#never mind technical effects and mixing

[ro-is-struggling]

The Chase || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Requested by anon: "reader constantly calling geralt the white wolf or just wolf during sexy time and him breeding his pups in her bcs of it???"

Summary: Geralt always tried to keep the wolf inside him caged in order to control his animalistic impulses, but with you that didn't seem to be required at all. 

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI! Porn without plot, public sex (technically since they’re in the woods), rough sex, penetrative sex, fear play? (not really, but Geralt does chase the reader through the woods so maybe? adding it just in case!), scent play, size kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, biting (like there’s so much it’s a warning in this fic), fingering, possessiveness, a little fluff at the end, fem!reader

English is not my first language

Word count: 3300

Notes: This is definitely NOT inspired on THAT scene from beauty and the beast that has been going around twitter all week, nope, not at all

Geralt was used to being called 'wolf' or 'white wolf'. It was a nickname he'd had for most of his life and was constantly used by Vesemir and the other witchers. He never thought much about it, just like his own name, he had it so internalized that he automatically responded when someone called him by those nicknames.

That changed, however, when you came into his life. There was something in the way you pronounced those words that awakened a primal feeling in him. It was in the way you looked at him, eyes defiant and playful, waiting to spark a reaction from him. It was in the way your lips moved, always ending in a mischievous smile, and in the sound of your voice, sweet and seductive, inducing him to madness, pushing him to his limit. 

Everything about you awakened in him an urge to possess you, to mark you as his so that everyone who saw you would know you belonged to him. He had to make an effort to stop his needy hands to caress your skin, and contain the desperation of his lips to kiss your neck and mark it with his teeth. He didn't care if there were people around him, they all ceased to exist when you called him wolf. 

It didn't help his situation that you always played dumb, pretending not to understand the power you had over him. But Geralt knew it was all an act. He knew that you were well aware of the effect that the utterance of that nickname had on him. And you used it as a weapon, a way to get a response from him when you wanted to play. And today you were in a very playful mood.

"What is it? Is the wolf scared of losing?" you teased him, trying to persuade him to take the bet. It was a simple race through the woods, just get from point A to point B as fast as possible to win. Only you had no intention of winning. All you were looking for was the thrill of the chase.

Geralt gave you an unamused look, taking a deep breath to calm the revolt that your use of that nickname had awakened in him. But then, he sensed your perfume in the air, mixed with the intoxicating scent of your arousal. His look completely transformed, frown relaxing into a firm, intimidating expression. The game was on.

"Oh you don't want to play that game, bunny." He warned you, giving you one last chance to change your mind. Once the race started, he wasn't sure he would be able to stop. He could already feel his insides vibrating with anticipation, the chained wolf fighting to break free. He had been locked up for too long, his needs ignored and repressed, so when he let go there would be no turning back. He was hungry and you were offering yourself to him without hesitation. How could he refuse?

You approached him, taking the sword he was sharpening out of his hand and bending down so you could look him in the eye. Your movements were slow, sensual, captivating your lover's gaze. Geralt's eyes got lost in your cleavage for a moment, admiring the exposed skin of your neck and the valley of your breasts as he suddenly began to salivate with need. His pupils widened, staring at you with yellow eyes turned almost completely black with desire. He could barely contain himself and that only increased your arousal.

"I'm not afraid of you." you said, and Geralt held back the urge to tell you that you should be. "Are you, wolf?"

He stood up and suddenly his imposing figure towered over yours, forcing you to tilt your head up so you could look at him. He was so much bigger than you, so much more agile, that it was ridiculous to even imagine you could beat him in a race. But, again, that's not what the game was about.

Geralt leaned in towards you, his lips brushing your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin. "When you lose and you're on the ground begging for mercy, I just want you to remember that you asked for this." he whispered, defiantly, sending a shiver down your spine.

He looked at you and you knew it was time to run. He gave you a head start, knowing he could catch you without even trying —not only because he was faster than you, but also because you had no real intention of winning that bet. He watched you run through the trees, admiring the way your hair moved in the wind. Only when you disappeared over the horizon did he start to move. He walked at a slow pace at first, sharpening his hearing to follow the sound of your footsteps. But when he caught the scent of your arousal, he couldn't help but pick up his pace. It was like a drug to him, an intoxicating scent that messed with the hormones of the big, bad wolf he had set free.

Geralt let the scent of your floral perfume mixed with the sweet nectar hidden between your legs guide him towards you, an invisible force drawing him closer and closer to his prey. When he reached you, he found you hiding behind a tree, taking advantage of the moment to catch your breath. He heard you gasp as soon as you sensed his presence, holding your breath to avoid making your position known. Geralt smiled to himself, finding your small efforts to remain hidden adorable.

"You can't hide from me, bunny." He spoke, approaching you slowly. "I can hear the sound of your quickened breathing from miles away... smell the scent of your arousal... you want this, so why don't you come out and get this over with."

Geralt was offering you a truce, a chance for things not to escalate any further than they already had. Any sane person in your place would have taken it, it was the reasonable thing to do after taunting the wolf like that. But you were not just anyone. You wanted to face the consequences of your actions. You wanted to face the white wolf that Geralt tried so hard to keep in line. You wanted him to do whatever he wanted with you, that was the point of the game in the first place.

You came out of hiding with your hands up in a feigned sign of surrender. Geralt walked a few steps towards you, eyeing you with suspicion. You held his gaze, trying to hide your true intentions. But in the end the smile on your lips betrayed you, letting him know that you didn't plan to give up easily before you had a chance to run.

You barely made it a couple of steps before you felt the warmth of his body against yours, his arms wrapped tightly around you to keep you from escaping. You squirmed in his grip, trying to free your arms from his strong hold, but it was pointless. Geralt was much bigger and stronger than you, so you weren't going anywhere if he didn't want you to. He pressed you against him, pinning your back to his chest as his hands intertwined over your stomach, effectively imprisoning you against his body. You felt his nose against your neck, sniffing your scent with animalistic desperation. It made you tremble, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your heart pounded with anticipation. You pressed the curve of your ass against the bulge growing in his pants in response and you felt Geralt’s chest vibrate with a repressed moan.

"I got you." he growled against your skin before sinking his teeth into the sensitive area of your neck. "You're mine, bunny. Mine."

"I'm yours," you moaned, relaxing into his arms, tilting your head more so he could have better access to your neck. You wanted him to mark you. You wanted him to claim you as his own. "Please, take me." you begged. It was an airy whisper, but Geralt heard it with perfect clarity. And your consent was all he needed.

In a matter of seconds, your back was pressed against the grass as Geralt hovered over you. His hands were all over your body, lifting your skirt and unbuttoning the ties of your top to expose your breasts. His lips kissed every inch of exposed skin, but there was nothing romantic or sensual about it. It was rough, desperate, Geralt sucked your skin with the intention of leaving marks, sinking his teeth into your flesh as he growled that you belonged to him. It was too much and yet not enough. The pleasure coursing through your body was almost unbearable, but you needed more, you needed to feel all of him.

"You knew exactly what you were doing... calling me that name, making me chase you around." Geralt inserted a finger inside you without warning, earning a moan from you. You were so aroused, so desperate for his touch, that he had no trouble at all pushing deep into your core, moving his digit with ease and reaching up to brush against that sensitive part inside you that turned you into a moaning mess. "This is what you wanted, didn't you bunny? You wanted your big, bad wolf to chase you around and pin you down right in the middle of the woods, huh?"

"Y-yes, f-fuck." you managed to blurt out between moans and quickened breaths. Geralt inserted a second finger inside you and the air got stuck in your throat as the pleasure overwhelmed you. He increased the pace of his movements, showing you no mercy as his fingers moved in and out of you in desperate, almost aggressive movements. You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening, ready to snap at any moment.

"You awakened the wolf on purpose. This is exactly what you wanted, didn't you?" he growled in your ear, playfully biting your ear lobe. You could only reply with an incoherent moan, closing your eyes to focus on the pleasure coursing through your body. But that wasn't enough for him, Geralt wanted to hear you say it. "Answer me!" he demanded and you were forced to open your eyes just by the authority in his voice.

"Yes! I-I wanted this, I-I wanted the wolf to fuck me. Please..." Geralt smiled showing his teeth and you couldn't help but think how much he resembled a real wolf when he looked at you like that. His lips were slightly swollen and covered with saliva after working on marking your skin, his pupils blown wide with arousal. He was looking at you like a wolf looked at its prey, desperate to jump at you and devour his meal.

"Beg for it." He said through gritted teeth. He removed his fingers from inside you, leaving you empty and unsatisfied. It took your pleasure-clouded mind a few seconds to process his words, too focused on the high you'd lost to let out anything more than whimpers of frustration. But that was exactly what Geralt wanted. He wanted to see you completely desperate, surrendered under his body, begging for his touch.

"Please, wolf, I need you... I need to feel you inside me, please." You begged him, looking up at him through your eyelashes. He took his fingers covered with your sweet nectar into his mouth, sucking them clean as he moaned around them. It was the hottest image you had ever seen. He was so focused on the taste of your arousal touching his tongue that for a moment you feared he might not be able to hear your pleas for attention.

“I’m yours to take… please, wolf. I need you.”

The pathetic desperation in your voice was enough for Geralt. He wasted no time, freeing his cock from its confinement and thrusting it into you in one swift movement that left you breathless. He was big and even though your arousal was seeping down your thighs, it always took you a moment to get used to the way he stretched you. He showed you some mercy, giving you a few seconds to adjust while he enjoyed the way your walls closed around his cock. Nothing compared to the warm feeling of your walls wrapped around his cock, pulling him inside you, inviting him to stay. It was the closest he had ever been to heaven, if there was such a thing.

Geralt let out a grunt as you began to move your hips against him, urging him to move. He placed his hands on either side of your head, effectively imprisoning you under his large, imposing figure. Then he gave you a sloppy, wet kiss, biting your lower lip before moving closer to your ear. "Just remember you asked for this." He whispered, sealing your fate.

The rhythm he set was fast and rough, his hips moving against yours desperately. The sheer force of his thrusts was such that you had to cling to his body to keep from sliding upward each time he entered you. It hurt a little, but in the most delicious way. He hit that special place inside you with every thrust of his hips, turning you into an incoherent moaning mess that could do nothing but dig your nails into his back in a desperate attempt to keep you grounded. Pure pleasure coursed through your veins as you felt Geralt pressing deep inside you, filling you and claiming you as his. Your sweat covered skin was on fire, only finding relief when the witcher's cold medallion that dangled over your face made contact with your body.

"Scream! I want to hear you, bunny. I want to know how good I'm making you feel." Geralt demanded and your body instantly obeyed, as if he was the true owner of your mind. "That's it, don't hold back. No one is going to find us here, you can scream all you want. It's just me and you."

The forest filled with your moans and Geralt's animalistic grunts. He couldn't contain himself, seeing you underneath him with your tangled hair full of dry leaves and your watery eyes full of pleasure was too much for him. He couldn't stop the fast rhythm of his hips even if he wanted to. The wolf inside him wanted to ruin you completely, to mark you as his and make sure you were never satisfied with any other man but him. You belonged to him, now and forever. 

"You wanted this, you craved it... my little bunny, desperate to get fucked like a bitch in heat." He growled against the skin of your neck, sinking his teeth into the sensitive area below your ear.

"Yes! F-fuck, please... I'm so close." You begged him, feeling the familiar tingle spreading in your stomach as your toes curled. His fingers traveled to the little bundle of nerves pulsing between your legs, stroking it with rapid circular motions that increased your level of desperation. You were so close to your relief it was almost painful, but you wanted to wait, to hold back your pleasure so you could explode alongside Geralt.

"You want me to fill you up, mark you as mine, huh? Breed you with my pups so everyone knows you're mine?" It was an empty promise and you both knew it. Geralt was sterile and no matter how much he wanted to, he could not father a child. But that didn't make his words any less arousing. The idea of being his and having his child growing in your belly to prove it was so enticing that you couldn't help but entwine your legs around his waist as a way to make sure he didn't slip out from inside you.

"Yes, please! I'm yours, I always will be and I want everyone to know!"

"That's right, you are. And I'm yours." Geralt grunted, leaning his forehead against yours to look you in the eye as he quickened his movements, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased the sweet relief. "Can you feel how deep inside you I am?" He took your hand and pressed it against your lower belly, where you could feel the bulge of his cock moving inside you. "I'm going to shoot my seed so deep into you, you'll carry it inside you until your belly starts to swell up with my pups inside it. Is that what you want?"

"Yes! Please, give it to me, wolf! I need to feel you, please." You begged with your last breath, almost bursting into tears from the intensity of the pleasure you felt.

Two more thrusts were all it took for Geralt to push you over the edge. You came with a cry of his name, nails digging into the sweaty skin of his back as your warm walls tightened around his cock, forcing him to stay inside you. That was enough to trigger his own relief, his cock twitching inside you as he shot his load deep inside your cunt, painting your walls with pearly white ropes of cum. And yet, he continued to thrust inside you, making your body shake from the overstimulation. He wanted to make sure his seed stayed inside you. He wanted to be able to smell the mix of his relief and yours on you for the rest of the day.

When he finally pulled away you groaned, feeling empty. Geralt let out an airy chuckle as he dropped down next to you, struggling to catch his breath. He pulled you close to him, wrapping his arms around you and resting your head on his chest. Even after all that, he still needed to hold you close, to feel the warmth of your body against his. 

You stayed like that until your breathing returned to normal, reveling in each other's closeness. You were so relaxed in his arms that you might well have fallen asleep if not for Geralt breaking the peaceful silence by clearing his throat.

"We should head back." he murmured, his fingers tracing imaginary lines on the exposed skin of your arm.

"I would if I could move." You joked as you began to feel the pain in your tired muscles. You didn't regret anything, though.

"I'm sorry."

You lifted your head from his chest to look at him, giving him a smile to ease the guilt he might be feeling for hurting you. "Don't be, you did exactly what I wanted you to do." You reached up to kiss him and he gladly reciprocated, cupping your cheek with his free hand so he could deepen the kiss.

However, he pulled away faster than you expected. You whined again, but he ignored you, getting up from the floor and shaking the dirt off his clothes. "It's getting late, we need to go." He said and you huffed. You weren't ready to move yet.

"Geraaalt" you complained, pouting. He looked down at you, ready to scold you, but was distracted by the sight of his artwork in all its glory. Your sweat-covered skin glowed under the afternoon light, highlighting your beauty. Your body was covered in his teeth marks and a trail of reddened hickeys trailed from your neck to your breasts and disappeared under the fabric of your dress. You carried his scent on your body, his seed inside you and his teeth marks on your skin. That alone was enough to awaken the wolf inside him once again, though he held back.

"You look beautiful." He said, kneeling beside you to help you knot the ties in the front of your dress, hiding your breasts and the marks he had made behind the fabric.

The softness in Geralt's eyes was such that you felt the need to hide your face, feeling embarrassed and somehow more exposed than when you were having sex. However, he didn't give you time to react as he quickly pulled you into his arms and made his way back to the hut. You relaxed in his arms, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck and snuggling against his shoulder. 

"I love you." you said in an almost inaudible whisper. It was as if you were speaking more to yourself than for Geralt to hear you. As if the words had escaped your lips as you were lost in thought.

But Geralt's hearing was exceptionally good. And he couldn't help but smile to himself as he heard those words.

[johannestevans]

Is the Homophobia Worth a New Hobby?

Rolling the dice on homophobia in nerd spaces.

Photo by lil artsy via Pexels.

Originally published in Prism & Pen. Also available on Patreon.

---

I went to a board-game evening last night with my boyfriend Lewis, who’s nonbinary and uses he/they pronouns. Frequently, people assume they’re cisgender, especially because he’s fat and has a gorgeous, thick beard.

I’m a gay trans man, I only use he/him pronouns, and I’m at a point in my transition now where I almost never get clocked as transgender even by other trans people — a lot of the time other trans people don’t even realise I’m trans too unless I say it explicitly or take my shirt off and they can see my tits.

I occasionally joke that the time I really knew I was passing as a man was when other comics in stand-up comedy spaces started making homophobic jokes about me instead of misogynistic ones, joking that they didn’t want to bend over in front of me, or similar.

But just because they don’t know I’m transgender doesn’t mean they don’t know I’m gay.

I’ve written before about my nuanced experiences of gender-based interaction as a gay man who’s perceived unequivocally as gay and effeminate in every situation I’m in, even at a distance, and how this translates to cis women feeling more comfortable with and safer with me than they might if they perceived me as heterosexual.

Gay men often seek out employment in areas that are perceived as being “for women” or stereotypical women’s jobs — nursing is a stereotypical career for queer men, and much of the time, queer men will fall into step with women in retail, hospitality, and other customer service positions, especially if they’re very obviously queer from a distance.

Why?

Because homophobia is hostile to us in every environment.

People will often wonder why queer men will take up stereotypical “women’s jobs” when being men in those positions make them stand out more because there aren’t other men around. Won’t they be opening themselves up to more homophobia by being such a visible queer man among a staff of mostly other women?

And what those people are missing is how like… queer men among women in service positions will absolutely be treated with homophobia, but because they’re alongside women who are going to be treated misogynistically by many customers at a bare minimum, they will be amongst friends.

Even in more traditionally “masculine” careers and environments, queer men might gravitate towards socialising with the women in the space rather than other men who are cishet or just less visibly queer, because it’s safer as a queer man to be amongst those women than to be amongst the men — who might be violent, who might be hostile or rude, or might just treat him as invisible.

People often treat male nurses and midwives, male nannies and primary school teachers, male receptionists and personal assistants as jokes. They might think of them as stereotypically gay and effete, limp-wristed, “sassy.” I know a lot of those gays. They’re my friends and lovers and ex-coworkers.

I’ve worked alongside them. They’re absolutely real.

But what people mix up is the cause and effect of why those men are in those positions. They don’t become sassy and obviously gay because they took a receptionist job. They went for those jobs — and might excel in those jobs because — being hired elsewhere might be harder, and specifically, surviving elsewhere might be harder.

Because it’s not just about getting hired, it’s about getting to do your day-to-day duties, about going for promotions, about how comfortable customers or patients or parents or students are dealing with you.

And while, sure, they might treat you with homophobia in mind, or say homophobic shit to you — because the positions are stereotypical women’s jobs and you as an effete gay man are treated by much of society as woman-lite or basically a woman (“Except you’re technically a man… I guess.”) the idea that you belong in that position is natural.

These are the caring professions, the service professions.

People like women to be in those positions because they’re “more caring” or because they’re “good communicators” — and because they’re expected to constantly smile and be friendly and bubbly and pretty, and to do what they’re told and to say “the customer is always right” and make you feel good even as you treat them disrespectfully.

People are often more comfortable treating a woman like that than they are a straight man, because to do that to a straight man would be emasculating. It would be an insult to his manhood to treat him like that.

What are you insulting with a gay man, when we don’t have the same manhood to insult in the first place? What are you emasculating, when he emasculates himself with his very existence?

Some queer men I know go up the expected men’s path of advancement in their careers, while others are much more in the expected women’s ones. These men get treated in the same way their female colleagues are and impacted by a similar glass ceiling.

It’s not to say gay men can’t benefit from and leverage misogyny against female coworkers in the workplace, any more than women can’t benefit from and leverage homophobia against their queer male coworkers, depending on the dynamics of a particular workplace and the intersections of marginalisation at play — particularly given that I’m only discussing here the intersections of misogyny and homophobia. I’m not even getting into racism and particularly anti-Blackness, ableism, ageism, fatphobia, or any other form of bigotry that influences the power dynamics and marginalised experiences present in any given workplace.

The thing about workplaces is that we often enter them because we have to. We have to navigate different forms of bigotry or marginalisation, slot ourselves into wherever we can safely fit, or at least fit as safely as possible, because ultimately, we need to earn a wage.

We can’t just pick and choose and wait until we can find employment with people who don’t or wouldn’t leverage institutional power over us, or find a mythical workplace that’s untouched by bigotry or capitalism and the desire by bosses, not to mention society, to exploit their workers.

We do our best to fit ourselves into whatever career track or employment position will allow us best to survive and support ourselves, because we need to earn money to live — to pay rent, to feed and clothe ourselves, to support ourselves.

What about hobbies?

What about things that we’re doing ostensibly for fun? Is it worth it then? Any woman can tell you that navigating nerd spaces can be excruciating.

Frequently, women and people perceived as women are presumed to be ignorant of anything around them in such spaces. They’re guessed to be the wives or girlfriends of men in attendance. Simple concepts might continuously be explained to them when they’re veterans of whatever the hobby is.

They’re treated as romantic or sexual prospects of any man who lays eyes on them, with a refusal to allow them to just play and exist in the space without being sexually objectified.

In the event they do show their knowledge or expertise, insecure men might respond by quizzing them and putting them to test after test, or by furiously disagreeing with any mild critique or opinion they share.

And again, I’m only talking about misogyny here — if that woman is Black, or queer, or trans, or all three?

White cishet dudes will froth at the mouth to demand why she thinks she’s allowed to be there, why she thinks she can be comfortable or can enjoy the same things they do, or speak on them with any entitlement or expertise.

Many white cishet dudes in nerd spaces effectively believe that nerd spaces — sci-fi and fantasy literature and entertainment, board games, video games, computing and tech spaces, coding, comic books, etc — were invented by and for men like them. They respond to any kind of diversity of identity or experience in the space as if it’s an invading threat.

Photo by Tima Miroshnichenko via Pexels.

Particularly because many of them have experiences of being emasculated or bullied for not measuring up to mainstream standards of straight masculinity — because they’re disabled or chronically ill, because they’re autistic, or simply because they “look” and came off as nerdy or geeky since they were young, and were never able to navigate “popular” spaces — they take on a very competitive mindset with the other men within the space. A lot of these spaces can be horrifically toxic, with these men putting each other down, wallowing in their loneliness whilst gloating over men who are more lonely or more pathetic or uglier or nerdier than they are.

They don’t want solidarity with each other in most instances — until a woman walks into the room.

They use and have internalised deeply misogynistic ideologies, often thinking of women as prizes to be won, or beautiful trophies, or in general as people who experience emotions — especially loneliness or isolation — in “shallower” or less real ways than they do themselves as men.

Subsequently, they respond to the presence of women in their spaces as a potential threat and/or as potential reward for one of them.

Nerdy guys of this calibre are often very attached to their identity as a societal outsider, and by their own definition of societal outsider (based in faulty assumption and self-obsession) women can’t experience this sort of social isolation. Women are therefore treated as invaders in the space.

Visibly or obviously queer men are not treated in precisely the same way, but in many social environments, because of the ways in which effeminate queer men are socially sorted into a woman category by homophobes, we’re often treated in ways that effectively mirror expressions of misogyny.

I have a stand-up bit about how many cishet people effectively project their expected male-female dynamic of a heterosexual relationship onto a gay couple, where you can see them doing the maths in their head:

Oh, that one rides a motorbike and has short hair, so she must be the husband, and the other one wears dresses and paints her nails, so she must be the wife. But wait, the wife has a high-powered law career and the one with short hair is a stay-at-home mother! Maybe the lawyer is the husband and the mom is the wife! But wait! The lawyer was the one who carried the baby, and the stay-at-home mom is trans! But wait!

And so on.

Straight people are so obsessed with their gender binary that they’ll tell you something like “Dogs are boys and cats are girls,” to the extent that if you’re like, “What? Why?” they’ll say something like, “You know, because dogs are goofy but cats are sexy,” and they’ll treat that shit as completely normal rather than moderately deranged. They’ll act like you’re the odd one for saying how ridiculous that is, because it’s so ingrained in their world view.

So of course, meeting a couple formed of two men or two women (or two people they assume are two men or two women), they’ll naturally project the same gender binary onto them.

I like board games, right?

That’s not true.

I love board games. I’ve been obsessed with them since I was a child. I own dozens of them, and I’m only starting to get more into the hobby as an adult in the past few years, attending board-game nights here and there. I used to have a lot more social anxiety, and I tend to get quite overwhelmed in unfamiliar environments with large groups of people where I’m also learning new skills, so it’s taken me awhile to feel more confident about going to boardgames events — but I’ve pretty much always attended queer ones.

There are multiple queer board and tabletop game nights in the Bristol and Bath area. There’s one or two in Cardiff; there’s a regular running one in Galway; of course, there’s several across the Leeds and Bradford area.

Last night we went to a local board-game night — just a general meet-up. I liked the look of it because it seemed to have an older age cohort than many of the queer ones I’ve gone to, and a good mix of people.

Lewis and I walk in: they’re drinking a pint of cider, I’m drinking a double of Bailey’s on the rocks. They’re wearing an open striped shirt over a t-shirt and a pair of shorts; I’m wearing some blue trousers with a ruffled blouse and an open waistcoat. They have a thick gingery-brown beard; I have thick sideburns and a moustache.

Of course, I also wear eyeliner. He’s fat, I’m thin, and while we both have similar mannerisms — we hold our hands delicately, we both tend to sway our hips somewhat when we walk with a slight sashay, we both gesticulate and express ourselves with our hands — because of the way that people tend to desexualise fat people and particularly those they perceive as fat men, cishet men often treat Lewis slightly differently than they do fellow cishet men, even just assuming they’re a cis gay man.

We often notice and talk about the fact that when Lewis walks in somewhere on their own, people read him as gay, and that’s coloured and influenced by their fatphobia, where they just assume that fat men don’t fuck, but because of a combination of his fatness and his queerness leading people to assume a level of emasculation, they guess that a lot of people assume they’re a bottom.

Until I’m standing next to them and it’s clear we’re a couple — the assumption is that because I’m thinner and because I’m more pretty than Lewis’ handsome, I’m the bottom, and if we’re split into a cishet’s vision of a man and woman, that makes me the woman.

We put our drinks down as I take out the two games we brought with us and a man comes over — tall, white, cis and straight, in his 50s. He’s friendly!

To Lewis.

I was the one that RSVPed to the event, my name was on the attending list, and they were just marked on the list as a +1. I was the one that looked for the event and brought it to them for us to go.

He asks both of us our names, but when asking us about games, he directs most of his questions to Lewis; his body is angled toward Lewis’ conversation; he looks at Lewis about 70 or 80% more than he looks at me, even though I’m leading much more of the conversation.

It’s not that Lewis doesn’t like board games, of course he does! He attends regular queer board-game nights, they enjoy different kinds of board games, but they remarked that what stood out to them about the conversations of the night is that men kept asking them about the different games, and he didn’t know any of the terminology — deckbuilders or worker-placement games, co-operative versus area control games — and wasn’t as familiar with the stalwarts in each genre.

Whereas, I was and was just ignored. Lewis likes board games the way a normal person likes board games — he likes to play different ones, he enjoys them as a method of socialising with others and meeting and engaging with new people.

Photo by Pixabay via Pexels.

I’m a bit of a freak about board games. I own dozens of them, I browse forum entries and read reviews of board games, I’d play board games solo — they’re an area of special interest for me.

The man who walked over asked if anyone was interested in a particular game, and I put up my hand and said I was super interested in playing In The Year of the Dragon (which I very much enjoyed and was absolutely into). Even playing the game, he described a lot of it initially to Lewis and the other guy playing with us and made far less eye contact with me, talked less directly to me, but also in general acted as if I was less interested and invested in the game than anyone else at the table, despite the fact that I was the first volunteer for it.

It’s the sort of thing that’s so blatant when you experience it, and yet if I’d called it out at the time, I would have been treated as being very unreasonable, if not insane. A lot of the time, when cishet men treat women and effeminate men like this (as abled people with disabled people; as white people with POC and esp Black and dark-skinned people; the list goes on and on) they’re often not entirely conscious that they’re doing it.

There have been numerous studies into gendered interactions in different environments, how much men interrupt women versus the reverse, how a minority of women are perceived as making a more significant amount of the group because of how they’re treated as tokens. If you just speak with people anecdotally, some will absolutely relate similar experiences.

Some people will become angry and upset when you point this out, and say that it’s actually the fault of the people being ignored or spoken over, because they’re not being big or loud enough, or angry enough that it’s happening to them.

Except, if you get angry about it, you go from being the woman or gay man being treated as a non-entity to being the woman or gay man treated as an irrational hysteric, imagining mistreatment where none is happening.

As the game went on, and each of us made mistakes or showed that we were learning the game, the attitude toward me at the table did change a bit, especially because Lewis and I answered a lot of questions together, and we do, as a lot of couples do, add to each other’s answers or remind each other of things mid-discussion.

And then, another man came over to the table, because he was obviously a regular at these events, and had never seen Lewis before. He asked Lewis if they were enjoying this game, what sort of games they liked.

He didn’t even look at me, let alone direct any of his questions toward me, even though Lewis looked to me multiple times when they couldn’t remember particular games they’d liked, or wasn’t certain what kind or genre of games they fit into. I actually answered the question of what games I favoured even though he hadn’t asked, and he sort of nodded awkwardly as he left.

I shouldn’t be entirely offended — the thing about nerd spaces (as with many other cishet-male dominated spaces) is that conversation like this isn’t necessarily approached with a view to making new friends or social connections.

A lot of these guys just want to measure each other up so that they know where they stand in the pecking order, which other men are potential threats to their masculinity or to their standing in the pack — will they be better than him at his favourite games? Will they embarrass him by making him look bad, either by being better at certain strategies, or by knowing more than he does about his favourite subjects and specialist fields? Will they out-man him, in short?

I felt horrible after last night even though I genuinely enjoyed the actual game, because the thing is, like…

When someone turns around and calls you a faggot, or even when they make catty little comments about your sexuality, at least you know they know you’re there.

When you’re treated as functionally invisible, an extension of someone else’s humanity, and given the “girlfriend treatment” — whether because you’re actually a woman, because you’re perceived as a woman, or because you’re treated as woman-adjacent because of some element of your personhood that means you’re also deserving of misogyny— it’s maddening, and it’s sickening.

There’s no easy way to actually fight against it, most of all because it’s so thoughtless, and so easily denied as accidental or inconsequential.

One thing I’m very lucky for is that Lewis does know what that experience is like and clocked it and noticed it and why it was happening from the get-go, whereas I know a lot of women dating men particularly have difficulty not just relating that experience but describing it to an uncaring or oblivious partner. I think there’s something really unpleasant particularly about being in their position, because I’ve felt something similar, where you go to an event with someone similarly or differently marginalised to you, and you’re more keyed into what’s happening, but also like…

There’s a sense that you’re being afforded humanity effectively because your partner or the friends you’ve come with is being afforded less. You’re expected to be complicit or fully engage in their manufactured invisibility so that you can enjoy some conditional privilege.

Lewis didn’t, of course. Repeatedly, he would redirect some questions to me or turn and make a show of asking me. It was just ignored to a large extent, but it’s still shitty to be put in that position with the assumption that you wouldn’t want to do so.

We discussed it, afterwards.

If he’d gone alone, would they have shown the same amount of interest in him, or would they have treated him as they did me, without a faggier gay guy next to him to compare and contrast them with? If I’d gone alone, would they have been forced to extend more interest to me as a person, because there’s no partner to assume I’m the “girlfriend” of?

If we’d gone with a bunch of other queer people in tow, outnumbering them, how would it have been different?

How would it have been different if we’d been at a table with some of the women, or at a table where women were the majority? Middle-aged cishet women have their own homophobia, naturally, but it wouldn’t have been quite like this.

There weren’t any visibly queer men there, but what if we’d sat down with some of the lesbians?

I like board games a lot, and I really like talking and interacting with different groups of people, and especially as someone who writes in the SFF genre and regularly attends sci-fi and fantasy events and conventions, I’m familiar with this unsubtle and subtle homophobia, being snubbed or ignored by other men whether they notice they’re doing it or not, but it’s like…

How much do I actually like board games? How much am I willing to weather to establish my personality in certain spaces and to be afforded some humanity? How many times do I go back until I’m seen as a person — as a full person at that?

It’s just shitty, having to weigh up those calculations when all you want to do is sit down, roll your dice, and have a good time. At least I do have queer-run events to avail myself of, and I do know that I rarely if ever experience this attitude as a queer man at them, but they’re neither as often nor as local as other board-game groups.

Like I said, it’s one thing weighing up these things for somewhere you have to be — navigating a workplace, navigating healthcare, etc, but when it’s something you do ostensibly for fun?

It’s not quite as fun when you have to put in a twelve-step strategy just to be seen as a human being.

[dreadfutures]

impressions from the hades ii technical playtest

absolutely chock full of spoilers but also theories

Amazing gameplay, feels just as good as Hades 1 with improvements and creative changes. So many different builds/play styles will be possible. in the dev stream they talked about melee close quarters vs sorcery ranged, but I find myself doing HEAVY spellcasting while also stacking in heavy melee boons on the knives, and mixing and matching.

The boons have a few familiar perks but so many of them are new and creative, even for gods we know from the first game. All of them feel really good.

The SOUND EFFECTS are amazing. The sounds of your weapons change based on the boon equipped to each attack. the sounds of the arena change depending on the god at the end (if any). Nothing and I mean nothing makes the dopamine go off more than the sound of Hephaestus' boon blasts when I do my fan of knives and they all explode. PING PING PING.

I find myself doing "resource runs" and "story runs." they do overlap. It's tough to only have one harvesting item equipped at a time and I spent so much time looking for silver and looking that my eye has started slipping over the lone spirits who gives you psyche, even when Selene leads me to them lol. I do like that they have her guiding light, but it is subtle. I also like the way you can pin certain items when you're in a run so you can remember what you needed for a recipe.

Unfortunately I did so many harvest runs that I actually got all the recipes before I had a chance to USE forget me not on a run so.... woops on that fated list lol.

We are maybe going to romance Moros or Nemesis (probably both are options?) but maybe not both at the same time? since they're siblings technically (technically) (I wouldn't mind though). I love all these children of nyx and want to protect them and smooch them all.

EXCEPT. Mel is a Silver Sister, with Artemis and Selene. Does that mean she's gotta be a virginal girl squad? lol

I love sister Artemis. I love that she throws snacks!!!!! which is even more endearing bc it's fried and a chocolate bar and soda. I wonder if sometimes I hear a note of disapproval from her and I wonder where her plot will go later. Selene it's said may not be able to reach us in Tartarus, but Artemis might.

Speaking of found family.

I fucking adore Odysseus. I love Od. So. Much. Like I loved Achilles but Od is such a good girl dad for Mel, and his pep talks are the best and so sensitive ;_; what a guy I love him.

I think? that Hecate's familiars must be placeholders, since they're just little statues that vibrate when you give them treats. I can't wait to see where they go in the full game.

It's an interesting take on Hestia, that she hates everybody. It makes me wonder if we'll see Hera or not, since I kind of expect that behavior from Hera.

Hephaestus and Demeter and Aphrodite remain my favorite boon givers.

As far as I can tell there is no fishing rod in the playtest but there will be in the full game and I'm excited.

Arachne's self esteem hurts me 😫 I love you little bug!!!! I wonder if we'll find her shop in Olympus or in Tartarus -- and I worry about her. At least Athena is too busy to bother her! I hope! I love Mel's different outfits.

The amount of pets that Mel gets to have is delightful. I love her frog so much.

Hecate is fascinating. She is SUCH a mother, she is SO compassionate to Mel and trying to build her up! She is wry and dry but never cruel or negative. I love her sm. Poor Mel has some low self esteem and understandable doubts and is putting so much pressure on herself. And I really wonder about Hecate's relationship with Persephone and the house of Hades and with nyx. Nemesis says something that makes me wonder if Hecate is innocent. Either way I don't think she'll really be a villain. My heart would break if so. Mel would break.

Mel is so sweet and pure. ;_; and she says "death to chronos" so coldly. When she says "Hence I go" I just hear her as a little baby playing hide and seek with Hecate and it gives me so many feelings.

I want to know about Mel's arm!

I can't wait to see the other regions just from the Crossroads, since there's currently two doors we can't enter.

Also what are we going to DO with the fish?

Very exciting stuff.

[writernopal]

✍Writer Interview✍

Thanks to @teamdilf for tagging me here!

When did you start writing?

Technically, when I was like 15/16. I was writing a little bit back then but I don't remember what I was writing, which sucks. I really wish I remembered! After that I picked writing back up in summer of 2019.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

Yep! I think its kind of limiting to only read the genre you write. There's always stuff you can take from other places and work it into your writing. It can produce some surprising results! That said, my favorites to read are non-fiction and classic works of fiction.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

No and no. There are plenty of authors I admire but I've got a voice of my own and I don't particularly think we need two of anybody.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

So I have two main things I use to write: a desktop computer and a laptop. My desktop is on a desk (surprise, surprise lol) in the corner of a room with two little windows above it. I recently upgraded the setup to have one ultrawide monitor instead of two smaller side-by-side ones to help me focus when I write because I noticed when I was writing on my laptop I'd get more done because I only had one screen. I also have a mechanical keyboard with blank keys for cool points lol. On the wall beside my desk are a bunch of posters and things, some for inspiration, others just because I like them. Of course I've got some pirate/ship themed art there too! With my laptop I kind of take that anywhere, so with that I write on the couch, the dining room, cafes, libraries etc but never in my bed because then I won't sleep. I've been trying to have better sleep hygiene and phone habits in general which is only worth mentioning here because I used to write on my phone but I don't anymore.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Music, but like really listening to it. As in, closing my eyes, not doing anything, and being present as its playing. I'm very in tune with how my body experiences feelings/emotions so doing that will usually make me feel something and from there its just letting my mind wander.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Forbidden/taboo things. It can be anything from interpersonal relationships, oppressive systems, internalized responses to stimuli, etc. Also drawing connections between the world and our environment and the stages of our lives or even things that happening. To me, those things are all connected. And no, they don't surprise me one bit.

What is your reason for writing?

To make sense of the world around me. And to live lives I won't have time for in my short one.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

Anytime someone notices a theme or callback in my work. Which I think has maybe happened once so I do my best not to rely on engagement to motivate me otherwise I think I'd go insane.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Oh ideally I don't want my readers thinking about me at all lol. I want them thinking about the story and what it makes them feel.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Prose. Especially of the visceral or imagery-heavy variety.

How do you feel about your own writing?

I think its quite strong but I think I've reached the limit of what I can do on my own. I really want to start honing my craft and improving it so I'll probably be taking some courses and/or joining a writing critique group soon.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

I guess I'll say mostly for me. There is 'an audience' in my head but whether those are people who would actually read my stuff or someone I made up, I can't say lol. Also I have to have fun writing something otherwise I won't want to do it so its hard to say I'd want to write for someone else unless they had requested something specific from me.

Tagging (gently): @tabswrites @void-botanist @paintedbutton @sarahlizziewrites @oh-no-another-idea @kanobarlowe and anyone else who wants to play!

[13as07]

Our #4

(Shikamaru Nara)

[Art work is not mine! Credit to ruuunasan22]

Requested by: @tadomikiku

Word Count: 4,182

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

I 100% believe Shikamaru would take care of me and fix all my issues with some stability and routine

P.S. After the shit this man did to Hidan, you can't convince me people of the village didn't fear him

P.S.S. I love this story line so fucking much so if I can come up with an idea I might do a part five but we’ll see if I can come up with a plot for it

Soft Domination

Spanking/Temperature Play (burn marks)

DD/LG themes: Hand Signals, Line Writing, Diet Control

Collar (more or less)

Nick Names/Name Calling: Sir, Spoiled/Brat, Pretty Girl

———————————————————————

     Shikamaru's fingers rub together, sending out a snap before his finger points down to the ground. I do as the established signal demands of me, switching to the other side of him so I'm between him and the buildings lining the street.

     "You don't walk the closest to the road," he mumbles, glancing at me before continuing to look forward. It's one of Shika's unfounded worries, the fear of being grabbed at if I'm not safely tucked between the buildings and himself.

     Most of his day-to-day commands are from unfounded worries. I think Shikamaru's concerns are a mix of him being the established 'protector' of the squad and the after-effect of Asuma's and his father's death. I don't mind though, it's nice to feel taken care of, to feel protected.

     As we walk his fingers occasionally slide across my thigh, toying with my skirt as we walk to the Clan Center building. Shika is stressed, evident from his clinging to the hem of the cloth when his fingertips collide with it.

      "You're going to be great. Your clan is lucky to have you as a Chief," I praise, knotting our hands together.

     Shikamaru stops, his head tilting towards me. "Our," he mutters before leading me forward again. "Our clan is lucky to have us as Chief and Chieftess."

     "Alright mister technical, if we want to be specific with our words, I'm still not officially a Nara so no, your clan," I tease, wrapping myself around his arm.

     The arm I'm not tangled around reaches up, clinging to the chain I never took off last night. Shika tugs on it, the familiar clinking of the metal filling my ears as I'm forced closer to his face. His nose rests against mine, his usual bored expression set in place as he looks down at me.

     "No," he says softly, lips brushing mine as he talks. "Our. You have been a Nara since the first time you knocked into me at the academy. You have been a Nara since our first mission together. You have been a Nara since our first date. Do you know why?"

     "Why?" I ask, my breath caught in my throat from the seemingly calm demeanor my fiancé carries himself with. The seemingly calm demeanor that works so well for him and constantly reminds me how hot Shikamaru is.

     "Because you're my pretty girl," he answers, head tilting and eyes skipping down to my lips. My chain clicks some more, tightening around my neck as he plays with the metal. "Who's my pretty girl?"

     "Me."

     Shika hums in agreement, eyes skirting over my face before settling on my lips again. His head tilts the rest of the way down, brushing his lips to mine, finally. It's a soft, short kiss. A publicly acceptable kiss, now that we're more so in the eye of the Clan and in turn, the village.

     He pulls away a bit, eyes still locked on my lips. "We should get going. I have a meeting at eight-thirty," Shikamaru mutters, lips brushing against mine again. Another beat passes before he pulls away, dropping his hold on my chain. His hand squeezes mine a few times before I'm led forward, Shika's head back to business.

————————————

"This is such a drag," Shikamaru mutters, eyes scanning the livestock report as his hand toys with the inside of my thigh.

I'm standing next to his office chair, my upper half lying across his desk. My head is propped on my folded arms, glancing to the side to take in Shika's distress. "What's a drag?" I ask, fully aware of the answer. The livestock report is nineteen percent lower than last season. It's not a terrible number coming right out of the fourth war, but is a terrible number for the average seasonal report.

"The livestock report is... horrendous," he mutters, fingers dipping into my flesh, kneading it like a stress ball. "Last year the number stayed around two and a half thousand," Shika continues, speaking more to himself than me. "This year we're barely breaking two thousand, and that's on the high end."

His face is scrunched up, mind running a mile a minute with different solutions and their outcomes. "Skip the hunting season this year," I recommend, going back to burying my head in my arms.

"Poaching is high as is. The farmers are already struggling with the lost livestock from the war. If I ordinate a no-hunting time frame it'll only skyrocket," the explanation is what I expect it to be, but I know Shika needs a wall to bounce ideas off of.

"Limit it then."

"What do you mean 'limit it'?" He asks, fingers stilling as he grips my skin.

"I don't know."

Shikamaru tugs on me, sliding me closer to his chair. "Look at me." I do as I'm told, straightening up and turning towards him. "You are a pretty girl with a pretty mind. What do you mean by 'limit it'?" His eyes are dark, disappointment coated in them as he looks at me.

It's not a secret that Shikamaru is one of the smartest Shinobis of our generation, his only real competition being Shino. It leaves me feeling dumb, causing me to leave my opinions silent most of the time despite the fact he likes hearing them, no matter how stupid they sound.

"I don't know," I whisper, shifting my feet around, my eyes doing the same. "It's a dumb idea."

"Pretty girl," he coos coldly, using his hold on me to tug me forward. Shika turns his chair, settling my stance between his legs. "I asked you a question. Stop being difficult. Any idea you have to help feed our people is a good idea, even if it's not the best option."

I squirm under his demanding sight, not managing to get far from the hold his hand and knees have on me.

"I just thought to make a new herd, kind of. During the next health checks, the ones that seem the healthiest for the breeding season get marked. Declare them as non-huntable. Then round them up and confine them and sort of control their exposure to each other during their rutting season. Kind of 'encourage' breeding instead of leaving it to fate." The words come out jumbled, rushed out to hopefully escape the dumbness of the idea.

"How would we mark them?" Shikamaru asks, eyes fluttering as he looks up at me.

"I don't know... ribbons? Bands? Paint a stripe or something on them? Have them herded to a specific area and mark the area off-limits maybe?" My cheeks are heated at my idea. It sounds so dumb.

"How would we divide them back out to the farmers?" He asks, both his hands wandering up my skirt, continuing to use my legs as his personal stress balls.

"I don't know... it depends on how you want to do the round-up, I guess. We could have the farmers personally do the round-up and controlled breeding. Or, there could be a separate division to do it. Divide the fawns by percentages. If a farmer is responsible for ten percent of the breeding deer, he gets ten percent of the fawns... or something."

I'm pulled into Shika's lap, my legs resting against his sides as his hands wander under my shirt this time. "You're such a pretty girl when you share your thoughts," he praises, fingertips dancing over my sides as his nose shoves my chain out of the way. His mouth latches to my throat, gently sucking on my skin.

"But," Shikamaru continues, hands dropping down to hold my hips. The word makes my stomach drop, the promise of the forced answer being punished. "Well I write our proposal, you get to write lines."

"Shika," I groan, leaning backward to further my pouting.

     Tap, tap, tap.

I groan again after the soft smacks to my hip, sitting upright as I let my lack of enjoyment know. "Yes, Sir," I grumble, my compliance being rewarded with a kiss.

When we part, I'm shifted in Shikamaru's lap, the both of us facing his desk now. My eyes trail after his hands, watching them tug out a blank piece of paper and a pen. 'I'm a pretty girl with a pretty mind' is scribbled on the first line before the paper is shoved my way. "Fifty lines, pretty girl," he mutters, kissing me behind my ear before he focuses on his paper.

"This is such a drag," I mumble under my breath, poking fun at my fiancé.

     Tap, tap, tap, tap.

"Since you want to be an unpretty girl, you can do a hundred lines."

I groan again, letting my head tumble down to rest on his shoulder. "Yes, Sir," I continue to sigh, brushing kisses to his neck. My attempt at a distraction doesn't work, a simple hum of approval comes from Shika before he starts our proposal.

————————————

My eyes flicker to Shikamaru's hands. They're clenched around the menu, slowly going white from his grip. He's stressed about the proposal, along with about a hundred other issues that need to be fixed. "Do you want to go back to the office? We can get take out or eat later."

     "No," he utters, tipping the menu down to look at me. "You need to eat something and I could use the break. Being out from behind a desk might help clear my thoughts." The menu tips back up, hiding away Shika's distress from my sight.

     "I think I'm going to get some tahini ramen," I say, continuing to look over the menu just in case I find something that sounds better.

     Shika hums, setting his menu down so he can look at me. "No, you're not."

      "What do you mean 'no'?" I groan, already knowing the answer. Shikamaru keeps my food intake balanced, partly because I don't care enough to learn the needed balances and partly because I hardly remember to drink water, let alone to eat properly.

     "You haven't had any proteins today. You need something with protein," he shortly explains, eyes still scanning the options.

     "I had protein today," I mutter, picking an unneeded banter. I honestly don't know if I have or not, but Shika needs a distraction. Something that lets his mind rest a bit.

     "You had a bowl of rice with strawberries for breakfast, your grains, and fruit intake for the day. Then you had veggie curry for lunch, making up your veggie intake. You need protein," Shikamaru continues to explain, eyebrow raised as he looks at me, challenging me to fight him on it.

I roll my eyes at the demanding man, even though I know the command is in my best interest. "So just something with meat?" I ask, scanning the list again in search of a different dish.

"Ya, or something with eggs or nuts or beans."

"Oh, I'll just get shoyu ramen then with an orange ramune to drink."

Shika hums in disagreement, eyes flicker to me for a second. "You've had enough fizzy drinks for now. You're going to get a cup or two of water."

"Shikamaru," I groan, resting my head on the table.

"Be a pretty girl and I'll get you an orange ramune on the way home from the office."

"Yes, Sir," I mutter, propping my head on my hands. I watch Shika as his eyes scan the menu, enjoying the softness of his face. He's a pretty boy, with beautiful dark almond eyes, and hair to match. I like looking at him. "When do you want the wedding to happen?"

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," he repeats, focusing fully on me again. "If I could have my way anyway," Shikamaru adds, focus shifted away from me again before settling back in place. "Though, the sooner the better."

"You don't want a long engagement?"

His face shifts to his 'you’re dumb' look, eyebrows up, head tilted, and lips set. "I told you I wanted you pregnant last night. If we were married you already would be."

My cheeks heat at the memories from last night. Almost every round ended with Shika telling me how he couldn't wait to get me pregnant, how he is excited for me to get off my contraceptives, how pretty my baby bump would look, and how he wants to give our clan an heir as soon as possible.

"Ya, okay," I whisper, eyes locked on him again. "I'll start planning the wedding after dinner."

"Pretty girl," he hums, head shifting to the side.

My eyes trail after his, being met with our waitress back at the table. "Are you guys ready to order?" She asks, focusing on me, her pad ready to scribble down my order.

"Yes, we are," Shika answers, tugging the waitress's attention to himself. "The lady will have an order of the shoyu ramen with a water and I'll take the salmon kushiyaki with a cup of milk tea."

The waitress nods her head as Shikamaru talks, scribbling down our order. "I'll have that out right away."

"Thank you," Shika mutters, staring at me. I stare back, not sure what he's expecting from me. "Pretty girls use their manners," he mutters once the waitress walks away.

"Oh, shit, ya. I'm sorry."

"Pretty girls don't have pouty mouths either," he adds, tilting his head in fake disappointment.

"Whoops," I grumble, rolling my eyes at him. I rest my head on top of my folded hands again, watching him for his reaction. The game is afoot and I fully intend to use Shika's little confession from last night to my full advantage.

"I know what you're doing and it's not going to work," he tells me, a smug smile on his face. Shikamaru shifts his position, mirroring mine as he stares back at me. "Keep testing me, spoiled girl. See where that gets you."

I shift, sitting up again as a smile crosses my face. The game is afoot and I'm going to win.

"Here are your drinks!" The waitress calls out, walking back up to the table and setting our drinks down.

"Thank you," Shika repeats, sight locked on me still.

"Thank you," I echo, smiling at our server. Maybe I won't win this time either.

Shikamaru hums in approval, eyes snapping closed so he can further enjoy our break from the clan matters. "Pretty girl."

————————————

"Wait," Shikamaru grumbles, grabbing hold of my wrist before I have the chance to walk back into the building. "I want to have a smoke."

"Addict," I tease, letting him lead me around the side of the building.

"Spoiled brat," he shoots back, stopping a couple of paces away from the corner. "You shouldn't complain."

"Why not?" I ask, leaning against the wall like usual.

"Because," he mutters, digging through his pockets in search of his lighter and pack. "If you get your punishment now I have less time to stew on it."

I lean my head back, shooting a pout towards him. "I've listened today," I whine, trying my best to make my eyes watery, a ploy to get out of my punishment.

"Ya?" Shika asks, settling a cigarette between his lips before his hands cup it, his lighter flicking on to light the end. "You've also forgotten your manners, have a pouty mouth, and rolled your eyes at me. Your attitude needs to be knocked down a bit."

My eyes trail after the line of grey smoke sliding past Shikamaru's lips. I'd love it if he'd give up smoking, but he looks so hot doing it. He scoots closer, his free hand digging into my cheeks as he forces our eye contact. "Those pretty crocodile tears aren't going to work so you can knock that off too."

     "You're being harsh."

     "Ya? You really think that?" Shika asks, a smug smile on his face as he looks down at me. "Do you want to see harsh, pretty girl?" He asks, bending down to whisper in my ear. "If you want to see harsh, I'll bend you over and beat your ass like I did last night. Do you want me to do that instead?"

     "No, Sir."

     "I didn't think so," he murmurs, kissing my cheek before letting me go. "Besides, you look pretty with my cigarette stamps covering you." I hum in agreement, a trait I picked up from the man next to me.

     Every couple of puffs Shika huffs the smoke towards me, coating me in the scent. He might not be the most territorial person in the world, but he still likes people knowing who I belong to. However, I think he just likes the look of realization people get when they figure out my scent is a mix of perfume and his cigarettes. Or maybe the sight of their heads popping up and scanning for him. Or the expression of fear that coats their face when they do find him. Or maybe all of the above.

     "Shika?"

     "Yes, pretty girl?"

     "If we try for a baby I can't sit with you on your smoke breaks anymore."

     He falls quiet, focusing on his puffs as he rolls my words around. "Ya, I know," he finally answers back, eyes falling to me. They flutter a bit before I'm tugged in front of Shika, my back resting against his chest and our legs tangled together. "That's a later issue though," he mumbles, hand buried down my shirt, tugging it out of the way.

     Like always, Shikamaru tests the butt's temperature against his wrist before pressing it to my collarbone. He traces the marks from yesterday, reinforcing their pinkness. His nose presses my chain further up my neck, lips tracing my throat opposite to the spot he's marking.

     The familiar feeling of my skin sizzling under the dying flame fills my senses, making my mind foggy with pain and lust. "We could go to the courthouse," I murmur, our conversation at dinner still circling my head.

     "I don't follow, pretty girl," he whispers into my skin, kissing my neck once more before he pulls back for another cigarette. If I didn't sit with Shika during his smoke breaks, I'm pretty sure he'd chain-smoke his whole pack some days.

     "We could go to the courthouse and get married tomorrow like you want," I explain, still buzzing from the leftover tingles of the now-dead cigarette. My eyes trail after the butt, watching as Shika flicks it to the ground.

     His humming, lighter snapping on again, and the sound of his inhaling temptation with cancer fills my ears before he answers. "I haven't publicly proposed yet. Plus Mom knows I bought the ring so she'll flip if I both propose and marry you before the Clan knows. Just focus on planning the wedding, pretty girl. I can wait."

     "Shika - "

     "I can wait," he repeats, his free hand tipping my chin up, forcing my head backward so I'm looking at him. "I waited ten years to ask you out, I can wait however long it'll take to plan the wedding."

     "You did not wait ten years to ask me out," I laugh, smiling up at the unmotivated love of my life.

     He sighs, smoke coating my face because of it, before he leans down to peck my lips. "Like I told you this morning, pretty girl, you have been mine since the first time you bumped into me at the academy. I can wait a little longer."

————————————

Shikamaru’s fingers slide through my hair, gently untangling the knots that have formed throughout the day. I’m sat comfortably on the ground, kneeling between his legs as my head and arms are rested on his lap. His voice rings out, reading his father’s past proposals and rulings concerning livestock issues. His chair squeaks now and again when he shifts, falling short under the sound of his voice.

“Shika,” I hum, toying with his belt.

“‘I don’t want to get caught’. ‘It's too soon for us to cause a scandal’,” he mocks, fingers wrapping around my hand to tug it away as he throws my whines from the night before back in my face.

“I want to blow you,” I mutter, settling my head back down. “I like sucking your dick.”

“I know, pretty girl,” he coos, fingers tangled in my hair again. “You take good care of me.” Shikamaru’s hand slides down, tilling my chin upward so our eyes can connect. “When I’m done going through paperwork we’ll - ”

His sentence is cut off by a knock on the door, causing his eyes to tear away from me. “Or not,” he mutters, hand buried in the strands of my hair again. “Come in.”

My head tilts back, being met with the sight of Chief Akimichi. “Hello, Choza!” I call out, starting to climb to my feet. Shika uses his hold on my head to push me back down, keeping me in place.

“Hello Chieftess Nara,” he teases, smiling at me before he turns towards Shika. “Shikamaru,” Choza continues, nodding his head. “You called?”

“Ya,” Shika mumbles, his hand falling to cup my face as he shifts around. “There are issues with the deer population. To fix it, my pret - ” he cuts himself off, blinking a few times as he processes his words. Shikamaru’s exhaustion from the day is starting to show through, proven by the slip of his tongue. “She came up with an idea and I wrote a proposal. I wanted you to look it over since I can’t ask… could you look it over?”

The room stays quiet, Shikaku’s death hanging in the air. I shift my position, wrapping my arms around Shika’s waist and burying my head into his chest. His hands tangle into my hair, fingers going to work, swooping it into a makeshift ponytail. I can feel his eyes locked on me, using me as a source of control for his sadness.

“Of course, I can,” Choza answers, his voice soft and a bit sad. “If you have a copy I’ll take it home and read it over.”

“Okay,” Shika mutters, dropping my hair before he goes searching for our proposal buried somewhere on his desk. “If you have any past orderings on the Akimichi livestock I would appreciate getting the chance to read them too. I know beef is a lot different than venison but it would be good brainstorming and foundation work.”

“I’ll see what I can find. I’ll send out a call tomorrow. After I get a chance to read this over and have a look for the livestock ordinances, of course.”

“Thank you,” Shika mumbles, softly tugging on the ends of my hair.

“We appreciate it, Choza,” I add, tilting my head back to smile at the older man.

“I’m here for you guys… and Ino. I want you guys to succeed, and I’ll do my best to advise you. Don’t think… just because Shikaku and Inoichi are… no longer with us, doesn’t mean I don’t care about our clans’ alliances. Or you kids.” Choza’s face is tight as he smiles at us, the man trying his best to deal with the deaths of his friends. “You three are as much my children as Choji is.”

“We know,” I answer for the both of us, tightening my hold on Shikamaru. “Don’t be getting all soft on us though, old man.”

“Hey, this old man can still beat you in a sparring match,” he chuckles out, patting his stomach in the same way Choji does when he laughs. “I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

“Goodbye,” Shika and I both call as he walks out of the office, leaving us alone again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask gently, shifting my focus back to Shikamaru.

“No,” he whispers, hands dropping from my hair and settling under my arms. “I just want to hold you, pretty girl.”

The request is followed by me being lifted from the ground and placed on Shika’s lap. I curl up against him, legs wrapped around his waist, and arms around his neck. I brush kisses across his face, muttering ‘I love you’ on repeat against his skin.

Each mutter is echoed back as Shikamaru holds me against him, head resting on my shoulder. “I can’t wait to marry you,” he whispers, my shirt soaking up the silent tears spilling from him. “I can’t wait for our wedding. To see you in your wedding dress. To see you, and Ino, and Choji dancing together. I just…” Shika cuts himself off with a soft sob.

“I wish they could be there too. I have an idea though.” He hums against my skin, returning my kisses to my shoulder. “At the ceremony, we can set out chairs for them. For your dad. For Asuma, Inoichi, and Neji. For anyone else you can think of.”

“I’d like that,” he whispers, kisses crawling up my neck. Shika continues trailing his way up, finally pecking my lips before he rests his forehead against mine. “You are so pretty,” he mutters against my lips. “Our kid is going to be so pretty because of you.”

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

[astarionancuntnin]

✨Writing Interview Tag Game✨

Thank you for the tag @nyx-knox!! <33

When did you start writing?

Like wayyyyyyyyy back, I technically wrote my first story when i was 11. I didn't write again until i was 15 (original pieces + fanfics), then i stopped and Im back at it again at 26 ayoooo

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

if i really need to search further into my favorite books, i would definitely say psychological horror and dramas

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

I don't know writers enough to really get an idea of how to compare myself to any of them, but I do know that i tend to emulate what i'm exposed to, so if I read an entire series from an author, and they used a certain syntax, i'll tend to also do it by force of habit. (i also consider it a flaw cause i see it as hindering my writing creativity ;-;)

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

its my personal pc that doubles as my work space, so its a bit all over the place ngl haha, theres a lot of astarion stickers and posters, all the furniture (keyboard, mouse, desk, etc) is pastel purple (my favorite colour), i have three screens (mostly for work but its also useful in day to day life) and my three wallpapers are astarion, of course. sometimes when i feel a writers block, i found out that writing on my laptop does unblock me! in that case, youll find me typing away on my couch in my living room uwu

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

MUSIC. What I write will be highly dependent on what I listen at the moment, like I was really into boywithuke when i wrote my angsty fics, and then i moved to a dark romance playlist and that got me going for die for you but then i was unable to continue my other fic cause i wasnt in an angsty mood anymore ._. (i swear i didnt abandon it, it just isnt the playlists turn to play on repeat) and rn im a lot into sleep token and ari abdul

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

So. Much. Smut. And angst. not surprising! my writing will also often depict my current state of mind. dw im in therapy, im working on it

What is your reason for writing?

It's my favorite creative output/the one im most experienced in! i wanna start drawing but i never find the time to really get into it and also terrified of failure which brings me to my second reason, its all i think i can do and i get dopanine reading nice comments teehee

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

when people tell me about a favourite part, when they liked the tension i managed to create, how i convey some characters, and most of all when i get told they loved a character i created!! this is so encouraging and pushes me to continue <3

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

i dont know how to answer to that .-. uh, i guess i want to be liked? seen as a good writer if anything? idk man ;-;

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Definitely descriptions, and creating a build up in a scene. I feel like it comes naturally to me and people have often told me that they are never lost when reading my scenes which reassures me so much LMAO I feel validated I also think I make really fun dialogue, especially banter with my ocs/tavs

How do you feel about your own writing?

i often self criticise my own work a lot, and i get that imposter syndrome where ill reread my work before posting and go "what the hell" in those moments, im grateful im not writing on paper cause that sheet would find its way to the trash real quick ^^ ' im sincerely truly blessed that my partner offers himself to read my pieces and beta read them, and tell me his honest opinion (there are things i wrote i wish i could forget and yall better be thankful he was there to stop me from posting first versions)

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

mix of both definitely. initially i wrote my own ideas and if people do end up liking them hell yeah!!! glad im able to find people that vibe the same way i do! then again, when i write for people, even if most of it comes from my silly little imagination, it was initially influenced by the request itself and is going to guide the writing specific to this piece, which honestly makes sense imo

Tagging 🏷️: @marlowethebard @roguishcat @anacdoce @charmandabear @marimosalad

[pursuitseternal]

🩸✨Writing Interview Tag Game✨🩸

Thank you @90shaladriel ❤️. You’re the best!

When did you start writing?

I started in college technically, but I always used to love the idea of taking stories I enjoyed and tweaking them in my mind. I took a break for about a decade until Rings of Power unlocked my muse and then Astarion/Bg3 came along and now I’m stuck (don’t send help)

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

Yaoi, darker non-con when the itch strikes, modern au.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

More of a genre… I get compared to gothic romance (which is good bc I do try to weave that in my writings 🖤💀)

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

😅 Ummm it’s anywhere I have a moment of peace and my phone. I have a very full real life… you would never know that I’m siting in public writing Dark Lord/Vampire porn!

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Bantering with my besties! Primarily, I have to thank @marimosalad @nyx-knox and @myfavouritelunatic for always bouncing off ideas or beta reading my latest unhinged idea. [or when Mari starts a message off and I just know it’s gonna be good inspiration. 😘]. With that I can’t stress that a solid, trusting community is key (and I’m so thankful for my pack).

I’ve learned that I am very auditory. I can hear inspiration before I see it. I listen to a lot of soundtracks or thematic songs that fit my fic’s vibe. If you’re also auditory like me, I recommend audio books or ns/fw audios like the ones by @ogyscrypt Seriously check them out. You’ll be ✨inspired✨

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Monsters… redeemable villains… blood… gothic romance… equal power balance with unequal power smut…dom/sub… “be my queen/consort/let’s rule the world” and sacrifice

What is your reason for writing?

Creative outlet, wanting to take stories I already love and make them bigger, fuller, more sensual…

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

Nope, I love them all, even if i can’t reply back right away 🫂

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I want readers to see an update or tag and know something good is ready for enjoyment ❤️.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Dialogue… world building… staying in character… sensual descriptions…

How do you feel about your own writing?

I’m very thankful I’ve had as much fun as I have, I can’t believe I’ve put out 600k of writing in two years!

When you write, are you influenced by what others enjoy might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

It’s always both? I only can write what I enjoy, but I love taking smut prompts. I love filling someone’s request for them to come back and enjoy it. I like making people horny happy!

Tagging: @nyx-knox @charmandabear @marlowethebard @myfavouritelunatic @tragedybunny @snowfolly @aevallare @brain-rot-central

[m1d-45]

man red and shade make me Insane because first of all. the age stuff. red is the version of diluc right after the whole shit w his 18th birthday while shade is current-day kaeya, so it'd be reasonable to assume that shade is most likely "older" than red bc of timeline stuff, BUT ALSO. like you cannot tell me that they don't completely ignore that and still go by the older-younger dynamic that both of them remember. you simply cannot. add on how apparently diluc was a Bastard Of A Kid, and boom. full dynamic right there.

so anyways what i'm saying is that if you leave them alone together red will absolutely rope shade into whatever scheme he has. like i imagine that they still have to be led into reconciliation with each other at first, but your god personally asking you to talk out your problems and try to reform your relationship with your (technically kind of) estranged brother is a really good motivator it turns out! it makes it easier to leave them alone together, but give it a week and shade is also glaring at diluc whenever he's nearby and oh no red what did you tell him.

i keep on picturing you coming home after a long day of meetings and walking in on red and shade coming up with an elaborate murder scheme (shade is the one making it elaborate. red would rather just go in and Fuck Shit Up) - teddy anon

you understand my vision

putting shade and red together in a room is. one of the ideas you’ve had.

they’re very different from their base selves, but red still holds a strange animosity. he’s diluc with all the anger and none of the time for it to cool, and shade has a permanent guilt lingering in his chest he never can place. he just feels… off around red, and doesn’t really know why.

it takes quite a bit of work to get red to adjust to shade, but the process only burns shade more. it’s complicated, to put it simply, and takes time.

but that time passes. with enough quiet interactions without you there, with enough trust that the other truly has your best interest in mind.. they can connect. red shares the fire that drives him, shade chipping at the ice digging into his heart. they talk around the ashes of your campfire, slowly coming to a conclusion.

once shade and red fully reconcile, it’s… dangerous. shade’s constant need for your attention mixed with red’s need for your safety and immense distrust of anyone but nikki or the other reflections makes for a startlingly effective team. you’re happy they’ve made up, really, but shade seems to be pulling you away from your obligations more often, and red sticks closer to your side than ever. on one hand it’s nice to see them get along, and you do appreciate the affection, but on the other, it’s more than a little concerning. you just hope that nothing bad comes of it..

(you’re a bit too late for that)

[itsprjc]

Well, Season 2 of TDI Reloaded (TDI Rematch) has had its first four episodes out for about a week. I figured I’d share my thoughts about what we’ve gotten so far:

-The challenges are a little more fun than in Season 1. They have a good amount of variety and the often led to really fun moments between the characters. From the Skunks clogging the toilet slide, to basically all the Rat Faces being carried by Caleb, and of course the AB questions challenge. My girlfriend and I straight up paused the episode each question to try and guess the answers. (We got over half of them right.) As for my personal ranks on the challenges:

-Taking it to the Rim Reaper (Ep. 2): Memorable concept, without going too overboard with it. Also, I’m a bit of a simpleton sucker for the pratfalls.

-Choosin’ for a Bruisin’ (Ep. 4): Great challenge for both character insights and just playing along with it during a first-time viewing.

-You Poor Saps (Ep. 3): I technically prefer Ep.1’s challenge, but this one led to so many gold character moments.

-The Pink Painter Strikes Again (Ep.1): Solid start. Simple challenge, nothing too crazy.

-Animation is pretty much on the same level as Season 1. The facial expressions are GOLD! I’d argue some parts feel more dynamic than Season 1, like the slide moments in Episode 2, but overall, no complaints.

-The characters feel like they never left:

-Priya: I kinda get why she’d fall hard for Caleb, as keep in mind, she’s been stuck with this training with hardly any friends. This also explaining why she instantly jumped to befriending Millie when it seemed they got along. It’s clear that she does value the friendship as she was the only one to give Millie a chance after Episode 2. She also did work as an effective leader in the same episode, instantly taking advantage of the challenge’s slide order rule. Overall, I’m okay with Priya.

-Bowie: I dig his plot. Bowie made it clear at the end of Season 1 that he’s willing to bend the rules…and it’s clear that he probably cares about Raj more. Since people are more weary of him after the finale, it makes sense to have his conflict be more about whether he’d play dirty again. Also, this joker in Episode 4! As a captain (assuming those roles are official) I feel Priya’s more effective, though.

Millie: It’s clear she had alot more learning to do about being a good friend. (I still say both her and Damien could have taken the two-point slide together if they were both weary on the third.) Though her elimination was pretty anticlimactic, unfortunately. I do prefer her in Season 1, but I’m not against the plot they gave her.

Julia & MK: I’m putting them both together because they’re basically a package deal this time around. Overall, live their dynamic. It was a sudden jump from animosity to friendship, but that’s just because they know game when they see it. They have so much fun just being underhanded together, and it’s honestly a refreshing take on villain alliances. While I’d say MK is the breakout of the two, since she’s the brains of the whole alliance, Julia’s dialogue is so on point that it hurts. My hopes is that MK does succeed in backstabbing Julia, but she doesn’t even get mad. She just respects a player and roots for her to win…underhandedly, of course.

Emma: Compared to Millie…honestly not that mixed. I’m glad she cut the chord with Chase early and she got him booted in a clever way. The one thing that’s kinda backwards is how she ends up being a poor judge of character in Episode 4 when she basically red Chase like a book in Episode 2. But then again, I guess that’s just chalked down to being used to his sorry butt the most?

Chase: Everybody (including me) called that he’d be an early boot…and he was. I’m perfectly content with that, as it’s clear that character development was never the end-goal with Chase. And the moment he left, the Skunk Butts became the de facto best team. Props on his ballsy attempt to outrun the balloons in challenge 1, though.

Zee: All I wanted from Zee in Season 2 is for him to still be Zee…Good news, Zee is still Zee. I honestly got worried the “soda influencer” plot would be a cheap and easy way to make him an early boot…and they make him Papa Zee instead. I love this lanky boy.

Ripper: My one complaint on Ripper is that he feels like he’s really not there that much. In Episode 2, he disappears for a good while until the mid-end. And he doesn’t really get to interact with his new team that much. The only real time he interacts with the other skunks is when he asks about how to approach Axel. Let’s talk about Ripaxel…I honestly really wanna see what they do with it! It is a little sudden how it starts, but in its defense, so was Rajbow. Their interactions in Episode 3 were fun to watch, and that POEM. Hey, fanfic writers…Raj and Ripper having a poetry battle…think about it. Despite him disappearing sometimes, what we do get from him is enjoyable. Here’s to more!

Wayne and Raj: My boys are untouched! The one blessing is that they NEVER went for some stupid jealousy plot! (Wayne cares too much for Raj for petty stuff like that.) And they are arguably goofier than in Season 1. (Shoutouts to them wanting burgers after seeing the slides and the “Cyclone-Spin Cycle”) It is funny how many people (again, including me) wanted to see their mischievous side more, but instead the boys are even bigger boy scouts with their understandable disgust at cheating. While I still think one leaving earlier is more likely, I really, REALLY hope that they stick for a little. Imagine them against Julia and MK for at least an episode or two! And while I still would love a Damien VS. MK finale, Wayne or Raj VS. MK works great! Fair and honest player against a crafty cheater. It would be gold!

Damien: I’m really holding out for him since he’s pretty much jogging in place a bit. Sure, he wants to take more risks, but it’s not to a great extent. Then again, the season’s only gotten started. I just hope his crafty side comes out more later. He’s not too afraid anymore, so now he needs to push his brains to the forefront.

Scary Girl: I dig the “Lauren” design. Unfortunately, the “normal” bit wasn’t really used all that much, as she barely had a presence in Episode 1. She had some small scenes, but nothing outstanding until she got herself eliminated. Though given how she was enjoyable, but pretty one-note last season, I feel she works well as a first-boot. Will she return to stalk everyone? Who knows. Probably.

Nichelle: I dig her more confident attitude. Part of me wishes we saw her gaining that confidence DURING the season, rather than all that development being off-screen, though. It makes sense for her to train beforehand, but I would have just as easily liked her having a bit of fire in her and then training throughout the season. As she is, I like how she’s so done with her old Hollywood life. Hopefully she does interact with Damien more, as they seem to have a friendship growing.

Axel: Besides MK, Axel was the biggest relief of the S1 pre-mergers. She’s still hostile and hardcore, but I find her showings of care towards the team being well-needed additions. Examples being her helping Damien back to camp after the four-point slide, and her warning her team to be cautious about getting stuck with the sap. I already said my piece on Ripaxel, so my personal hope is that there is a survival or stealth challenge where the two have to work together. (Ala Hide and Be Sneaky, Eat, Puke, and be Wary, or Hurl and Go Seek if you wanna count the “zombie” thing.)

Caleb: Caleb was simple, and he still kinda is. I like how paranoid he was in Episode 1, but overall he’s just a more effective Justin. I do prefer him over Justin, as he can be a massive asset to the team, as shown in Episode 3. Like Zee, I’m fine with him as is, and can only wait and see what he does in later episodes. Will his alliance become genuine romance or just a tool for Caleb to outlast Priya? Probably the ladder, as he doesn’t seem to show any romantic interest in her that feels genuine.

And that’s Total Drama Island Rematch so far. Tomorrow should be the debuts of Episodes 5 and 6, so here’s to a great season. I was honestly shocked at how much I loved this cast, and how refreshing it felt seeing the show after a seven (eight if you ignore Ridonculous) year hiatus. I will be making sure to watch the series again when it comes to MAX in seventy years. As for whether or not I wanna see the Gen 4 cast again…I’ll probably be content with them stopping their run after Season 2. Reloaded and Rematch work as just two halves of a nice little package, and I really don’t want them to risk having this lovable cast go through what Gen 1 did. If we do get a new season, I’d be fine with them having a new cast. Fans will probably like them as much as they do with Gen 4.

[bithermal]

"anyways I’m gonna stop before I rant about how there is a fundamental misunderstanding of anarchy"

I for one would love to read your rant about it tho, if you don't mind. :]

Ohhhh man ok bare with me. I am responding to this while there are fire trucks outside because someone set their apartment on fire.

For the sake of ease I’m going to break this up into talking about what anarchy arcs can look like, and what I’d think one would look like on the QSMP specifically or at least how it would actually affect the server. For reference I am a legitimate anarchist so if you’re wondering why this stuff gets under my skin that’s why lol.

Now most anarchy arcs on SMPs usually spawn from someone having a problem with the current leadership, status quo, or societal structure of the server. They want to overthrow or disrupt things because, for whatever reason, they don’t like them. That is technically the textbook definition of anarchism. However, a common mistake is that there is no long term plan. Most creators focus so intently on the overthrowing the government part they don’t stop and think ‘ok what am I going to do after I’ve completed this goal?’ And I can’t exactly blame them. The aftermath isn’t exactly as fun as the overthrowing part, but it usually just results in a new ruling party stepping into the subsequent power vacuum. Let’s take Technoblade on the dsmp for example: as much as I loved his character, he never had a follow up plan once he overthrew governments, and that’s pretty much exactly why he got caught in a neverending struggle of destroying L’manberg only for it to be built back up again. This constant overlooking of a follow up plan often leads to viewers misinterpreting anarchy as just destroying any sort of governing body and leaving the citizens to clean up the mess. Now there are other contributing factors, namely the existence of anarchy servers. They tend to cause most to have a pretty negative reaction when ‘anarchy’ and ‘minecraft’ are in the same sentence lol, but the point im getting at is there is a difference between textbook anarchy and political anarchy and that’s often overlooked by creators and viewers when discussing anarchy arcs.

Now as for what an anarchy arc would look like on the QSMP? Honestly, not that different from what Bad has been attempting. Remember, anarchy is fighting back against a ruling party. Who is the island’s ruling party? The Federation. Now unfortunately Forever is going to get caught up in the mix since he won the presidency and seems to be intent on keeping that title, but you can’t make an omelet without cracking a few eggs. Most of the other islanders aren’t exactly actively upholding the Federation’s ideals. They all seem pretty vocal about their dislike of the Federation. Bad isn’t exactly advocating for going after the islanders. In fact he’s done a pretty good job setting up a long term plan by aiding in the island community so much. intentionally or not, he’s helped to mitigate any negative effects that could possibly come from overthrowing the Federation. I think a lot of people hear anarchy arc and automatically equate it to a villain arc, when in reality the only people that Bad might be antagonistic towards are Forever, since he is unfortunately upholding the governing body by remaining president, and possibly Cellbit, Jaiden, and Foolish (as they are Federation employees, but I trust Bad to recognize their situations.)

I hope this made at least a little sense lol I tried not to get too political on a post talking about… Minecraft politics

[summertimemusician]

Linktober Shadow Day 5

Master Kohga

*slams this down* LATE AND WITH ONE HECK OF A HEADACHE BUT I MADE IT!

Also I feel like we also need to talk about that the reason the Yiga are such doofuses usually is because they're riding the high of a full 100 years victory, and that after getting throughly kicked in the ribs they're probably gonna commit more crimes and probably return to their even more brutal roots actually, Kogah probably being the most likely one to shift to that first.

This goes out to you Warriors fans and simps, because ooh boy is he a delight to write, I think the duality of his name and status as a soldier is neat even if he's not my favorite Link.

Though the regular Linktober one will have to wait after I'm a bit more rested though so either later today or tomorrow, sorry folks.

Also uh warnings ahead?

TW:

Some descriptions of violence, specifically wrist targeted violence, kidnapping, and Reader going a little feral in defense of Warriors, nothing too big, but as this is coming from a horror fan I advise anyone who is squeamish to skip this one.

On a scale of one to ten of intimidation wrought by enemies of the Chain has faced, you’re pretty sure Kohga and the Yiga wouldn’t make even a negative ten on a normal day.

You’re not sure if it’s due to Wild’s most blase attitude about having a literal clan of traitorous, murderous Sheikah at him, a mix of bafflingly phlegmatic and elated with amused delight when talking about schemes you’d more associate to slapstick comedy than anything, the way you’ve seen any Yiga members dive for any throw bananas like a starving Wolfos pack on a lone Stalfos even if there was a cliff right in front of them with even more single minded determination than what was given to their mission, the way he’d refer to them as “Look they’re technically insane menaces to polite society out for mine and Flora’s blood, but they’re our technically insane menaces to polite society out for our blood” with a mix of bemusement and amusement or a mix of all three but according to the resident cook they truly weren’t a threat compared to, say, the cultists of Hyrule’s time whose sole goal wasn’t even to kill him but simply make him bleed, or Majora whom indirectly inflicted endless torture on Time, or Demise who literally started the cycle all of your heroes inevitably went through (because you could never blame Sky, none of you would even if it took shaking the notion into his thick skull). And they’ve apparently gone even more docile and to ground after Wild had defeated their master.

“And THEN he apparently has the nerve to go through our base and raid our banana supply! The nerve of that pesky, insistently annoying pest- Hey, are you even listening?” The sudden call made you jump, hissing as your wrist restraints dug into your skin, because apparently shackles with spikes on the inside of them are a thing and you very much would not have liked the approximate feeling of barbed wire wedged into your skin, biting into your flesh with all the viciousness and brutality that ensured you wouldn’t move your hands without feeling agony, the tone indignant as the presumably dead man stomped his foot nearby, “This is serious! First he peels me and my clan members like a banana, greatly exaggerates the rumor of my death and then THIS?!”

You school your features, trying really, really hard not to act out again as it comes down dangerously close onto Warrior’s unconscious head. Nodding along with the seriousness and solemnity worthy of a funeral, “Talk about the pot calling the kettle black! Such disrespect, at least you guys didn’t exaggerate about his death. And you’re supposed to be the bad guys here?”

(Well, more like you couldn’t move, really, funny thing about spikes on one’s skin and having one of your legs broken to the point glancing at exposed bone makes you want to dry heave at the gory sight, it.is.agony. Funny, how pain is an effective restraint in keeping people pinned down better than any arrow.)

You quickly revised your opinion and reassess the threat given the situation you're in now, as after your patrol on Wild’s Hyrule with Warriors you’d gotten ambushed and kidnapped through a mix of a double Silver Lynel ambush and sheer element of the surprise as bait, Warriors going down protecting you with all of the ferocity of his namesake, and choosing to risk getting a little roughed up over being separated from him.

You’re quite proud of yourself really, what with the way that you almost fully tore a chunk out of a Blademaster’s throat with your teeth and before they gave up, leg broken and with the spikes on your wrist as you woke up first with the fury of Volvagia’s fire scorching your veins, overwhelming the icy chill of terror in your veins and only instinct driving you because who knows what they’d done to him. Worth it. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you let something happen to your favorite soldier boy. At least now you’re both in the same place, even if it’s with the man running the doomsday show himself.

“I know right?! Once I get my hands on that little nuisance, I am going to kill him dead!”

It’s a bit of a pity, in a way. You’re sure that under better circumstances you’d be as amused as Wild by him and he’d be a lovely conversation partner, you doubt the Yiga would follow him if he wasn’t charismatic after all, like watching a wet cat get their head stuck in a jar you had to admit watching the man struggle and fail was just a bit hilarious.

Alas by the whims of the gods spinning the wheel of fate and making it be fully comprised of misfortune to the point you really would like to have a nice chat involving your fists and their faces and maybe one foot straight up Hylia's gash, twas not to be, but it works in your favor. You just needed to stall for as long as you could until Warriors woke up or had an opening stop feigning sleep, either works.

“I just had a thought, a truly magnificent idea worthy of someone as worthy of being the Calamity’s most trusted champion! You travel with that twerp and his companions don’t you?”, the man stilled, then swerved towards you, you contained a flinch in a sudden movement, just on the edge of cartoony, adamantly looking over his shoulder rather than the twisted, crimson eye of the cold mask of the leader of the people who joked about keeping one of Warriors’ eyes as a necklace for it worked just as well as gem, “You could work for us instead, we’d pay you quite well for the information.”

Adamantly trying not to look at Warrior’s behind him, you hummed, head tilted, pretending to think about it, then shrugging, “Eh, I’ll pass. You Yiga don’t take well to traitors no?”

The man crossed his arms, adamantly nodding, “Of course not! Any and all who forsake our god should be slowly watch as their body parts are fed to Moldugas while they’re still alive!”

Cool, cool, lovely imagery to have, you were going to have one serious talk with Wild about proper threat assement once you’re back in camp by the way. You smile a bit back, remembering Warrior’s and using it as a reason to force a grimace away. Of the way he could charm better than any prince, making people fall in love with him effortlessly for better or worse and how you or Legend would viciously defend him from the worse crowd even if it gave you both Time’s exasperation (and grief from the other Links, who are all menaces whom you wished were less perceptive at times). Of the way he amusedly shared with you he main advantage was that no one could ever tell wether he was being friendly or baring his teeth, and how he slowly let you notice wether the curve was sharp or soft as you got closer. Making a point of showing your bloody, bloody teeth from both the Blademaster and which dripped down your head from one heck of a Lynel kick, you did not have Warriors natural charisma but you’d make do with your mediocre charm. “Well, I’m not in the habit of liking traitors much either you see. Sorry to let you down on that, plus if I can turn on them I can turn on you right? Better we skip that, I can give you a banana cake and banana pretzel recipe from where I’m from as compensation though?”

(You did not, in fact, know a recipe for banana cakes and pretzels by the way, but at this point you'll say anything just to buy you more time. Nothing like the age old ancient technique of lying. Wars would be proud his lessons came in handy.)

To his credit, he didn’t flinch. You’d actually be a bit shocked if he did given his clans entire gimmick to be fair. Sliding away from Warrior’s prone form and towards the one actually open door, keeping his back to the soldier, although his attention immediately focused on you like a Guardians aim, completely missing the light twitch to Warriors’ fingers you could spot in the dim torch light, “Fair enough, though you’re missing out on a lot if you ask me. Now! Banana cake you say? Might you be a person of culture after all even with an horrendous choice of company?”

Would you look at that, looking like a horror show does have it’s advantages!

“I mean I’d write it down but you know,”, you make a vague motion with your wrists, wincing a bit at the spikes, those would be a pain to get out later, you’d much have preferred ropes or chains, “But if you get some paper or get me to a kitchen I can direct your folks how to make it? You’d be the first to get a taste of it if you’re there too.”

He hums, pacing back and forth, Warriors eyes lightly crack open, the sapphire clouding with shock at your state, you can’t look at him long enough to figure out the ensuing combination of emotions, flashing, but you do see when the gems are forged into cobalt blades, you quickly mouth to him ‘Get free’ as soon as Kohga isn’t looking at you, he closes his eyes as Kohga turns towards him and nods. Though the Poe flame azure of his gaze could have probably killed the leader of the Yiga ten times over as he addresses you, “You’re an awfully generous hostage aren’t you? Though I like the way you think.”

You shrug, “I mean I’m not being manhandled, plus I’m bored so why not make some good food to kill time?”

You can see him weight his options, unnervingly staring at you beneath the mask. You adamantly don’t look at Warriors’ as he slides his boot very lightly against the wall, a small blade springing from the small compartment, thanking the Three the Yiga didn’t check either of your shoes as he twists around as silently as he can manage to cut himself free as Kogah nods, “Anyone with an appreciation for bananas should be allowed to share their wisdom, can you walk?”

You give him a flat look, you think Warriors bites his tongue to keep from making an equally indignant sound as Kohga seems to have the dots, awkwardly coughing, “That was a retorical question of course you can’t! I shall however extend you my benevolence, and call on my subordinates to carry you-“

He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence when Warriors pounces with a snarl, you lurch back, hissing as the spikes make your wrists bleed and chocking down a shout at the pain that crawls through your leg like lightning, but it’s enough.

Warriors wraps the remains of his rope around the Yiga Clan Leader’s throat in a makeshift garrote, and make sure to use his momentum to slam his head against the cold, hard ground of the hideout, doing it again for good measure with all of the strength and ferocity you knew for a fact he kept as well sheathed as a hidden blade.

It all took but a second, he didn’t even scream. You doubt that killed him, but he isn’t getting back up any time soon.

You slump over, coughing blood from your mouth, it wouldn't help much but it was a start, “Welcome back to the land of the living, Wars.”

He rushes towards you as soon as he finishes tying Kohga up with the remnants of his own rope, gently wiping the blood from your sight, he was battered and bruised but the most beautiful thing you’ve seen in your life as he checked you over, and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, relief ringing like a sword being sheathed, it would be alright. “Can’t say I’m happy to be fashionably late this time. What did they do to you?”

“Hey, none of that,” you gently touch your foreheads together, you smile, tasting rust on your lips though Warriors doesn’t mind as you lightly try to take his mind out of it, “You should see the other guy.”

He sighs, fondly exasperated as he shakes his head, you consider the quirk of his lips a win even as he pauses over your wrists, eyes flashing with rage before focusing on your leg, “I’m sure, that was a killer performance. Maybe after all this is over you should take up acting back home.”

You snort, “I mean I did learn from the best-“

it distracts you long enough for him to snap your leg back into place. And all you know is that you with pain, ripping through your throat as you finally, finally, feel safe enough to pass out.

(Warriors winces sympathetically, heart breaking a little at your pain but knowing it was the only way you wouldn’t focus on it, better than for . Holding you close and allowing you to muffle your scream into his shoulder as he wraps your leg in his scarf, guilty and fury carefully hidden behind the soldier mask, knowing that the only thing that would satisfy the flames of retribution in his chest would be to use the Yiga as kindling until they eventually burned the remnants of protective rage all away to ash.

But he could make do with taking you as gently as he could as you pass out in his arms, resolve himself to get the contraption on your wrists out as soon as you were both back at camp. And to kicking Kogah on the way out. It's not nearly enough but it's a start.

You protected him as best as you could, it’s his turn to return the favor as he can as well. Anything else can come later.)

[ao3-softwarecorruption-exe]

📖 Writer Interview

Tagged by @writing-for-soup!!!! (unoffically lol) Defo go check out her interview, it was a blast 2 read! :D For my own answer- please continue reading after the cut!

When did you start writing?

Technically I've been trying to write ever since I was a kid. Doing small comics and writing the first pages of stories to never be finished. I loved the idea of making my own characters come to life, and to manage to write something of my own, but the task was always so daunting for me.

Then sometime during middle school I discovered fanfiction, and that made me want to writ fanfiction, though I never dared until Uni lol.

During middle school was when I started actually getting married to the idea of one day exploring writing. We had a lot of creative writing assessments during English class, and my English teacher was a wonderful lady who gave me such wonderful feedback, and she always, every single assessment, said she hoped to see me as an author one day. I hope I can tell her one day that she was the biggest reason that I never gave up on writing.

Then during Uni I finally managed to write. I found writing to be a great way to destress, and it was fun, and when I posted and got nice comments I started to lose that beginning anxiety that my words were awful and it became easier to actually get words on the page instead of just dreaming up ideas in my head.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

Perhaps Sci-Fi? I do enjoy Sci-Fi, but I don't think I could ever wrap my head around all the sci-fi-y terms and rules haha. It requires so much thought to world building and at least a basic understanding of science to start with before you start making up your own science lol.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

My favorite author might be K.A Applegate when I read all her animorphs books, and I've always enjoyed her blunt way of storytelling. I like getting to the point. But I wouldn't say I am only emulating her writing style.

I steal and take from authors everywhere, be it published authors of fellow fanfiction writers. I see a style, I consider how to mesh it with my own, until I have something a mix of all in some Frankenstein's Monster creation.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

My main writing space for max productivity is the gas station right down the street of where I live. Free wi-fi, barely any people, cheap sausages, and free refills of coffee. It is my ideal environment for calm of mind, though it can get quite freezing during the winters.

Other than that there is, of course, the mess that is my room. And sometimes I will treat myself to write at a café after my lectures, or else write during my lectures. (not a good thing for my grades lol).

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Probably songs. I've found that if I have a song I really like, and also connect to a certain piece of media I like, listening to that song on repeat will make me think up ideas and concepts and scenes for the characters or media that I connect it with.

It can truly be random. It's very rarely a song actually connected to that piece of media. I just decide by a whim.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

I've found that I enjoy writing characters who use denial as a defense mechanism. Avoiding problems, or more often the truth of their situation or their own emotions, is something I think I force upon many a character.

I asked my fantastic friend @lily-alphonse for help with this one, and she mentioned that I also use loneliness in a lot of my works. Which I believe is true. I do adore loneliness as theme or something to have a character suffer with.

What is your reason for writing?

It is fun, and I get a lot of enjoyment out of the art of creation. I love consuming art, but sometimes I need to scratch an itch that no-one can reach but myself. I am my own dumb scratching stick haha.

I've always loved the idea that when you write, you create actual little universes. Like there's a power in it, in creating, and having others see that creation and get something out of it. Art is so wonderful, so beautiful.

Also it's just so goddamn human. We can explore so much that we can't otherwise, we can get a better understanding of ourselves, the world around us, people so different or so alike. It makes me so insane, the way art can surpass us. I mean art has been around since the most early humans! Drawings, and architecture, and later writing. The earliest goddamn written story that we've found explores the same human concepts that we still ponder about today!!! Gilgamesh's intense existential dread, his fear of dying after his closest friend dies. Hello?????? Insane, wild, fantastic. Its fucking crazy, honestly, and it has brought me many spirals of existential dread and wonder at the same time.

And I mean- have you thought of how fun it is to see the same concepts shaped by the time they were written in? When I was reading Frankenstein in High School I was so fascinated by how Frankenstein acted when stressed and anxious, and how it was always explained away by him coming down with a fever. He did not have a complete mental breakdown that left him unable to leave his house for weeks due to how stressed seeing certain things would make him, no. He was sick with a fever. This was used multiple times. I found it so absolutely intriguing.

And I also just cant bare the thought of dying one day and having contributed nothing to the endless, beautiful wonder of art. I get to make things, I am so so lucky I get to make things, and I get to share what I make, and that's just. So fun. So fucking great.

Stopping myself from ranting further lmfao.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

God comments, I love you so much. Anything from a single emoji to a multi paragraph essay. I love you. It brings me so much joy, makes me so flustered.

The comments that have always made me fawn in utter appreciation, are those that have pointed out things I do in my writing which they enjoy. Especially concerning characterization, which tends to be the thing I'm the most anxious about when writing. When someone tells me they feel I've captured a character's personality/vibe, I feel so warm.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Someone who made them feel something, if only for the duration of the read. Even if it's just momentary contentment. :)

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Again I had to run to @lily-alphonse for help! She says that it's probably introspection, which might be true! It's something I really do love writing. God, to get into the head of people- its so fun. I love writing the way characters rationalize and think and decide on things.

How do you feel about your own writing?

Hahahha, my friends @lily-alphonse and @writing-for-soup will know that I am never at all consistent with how I feel about my own writing.

I've learnt during my journey of posting what I write, that I often love my work up until it is posted. Then I will go through a cycle of barely daring to touch it or read what I've written, and when I eventually force my gaze upon my wretched creation, there's a high chance I'll suddenly decide it is wonderful and the best thing I've ever made and wow look at me I'm such a genius I can't believe I wrote this.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

I mostly write for myself, though writing completely in self indulgence is something I have to work myself up to! I still write the ideas I want and daydream about, but some ideas, often of the darker and more dead-dove-do-not-eat designs, I must hype myself up for.

And I am of course influenced by trends and popular headcanons in the fandoms I am in haha.

Tagging (with no pressure); @steamyearlgray @vilukissakakskaks

[coraniaid]

20 questions for fic writers

Thanks to @isagrimorie for the tag!

1 How many works do you have on Ao3?

14

2 What's your total Ao3 word count?

452,732

3 What fandoms do you write for?

Buffy the Vampire Slayer (and technically Angel, I suppose, but not really), Mass Effect (but not recently)

I've also tried writing some Avatar: The Last Airbender and Farscape and Person of Interest works over the years, but nothing that I've finished yet.

4 What are your top five fics by kudos?

Coexist: Season 3 Buffy AU in which it was Giles, and not Jenny, who was murdered by Angelus in Season 2 [27 chapters; 277,084 words; various POVs but mostly alternating Buffy/Faith]

Last Year's Rain Didn't Fall Quite So Hard: Season 4 Buffy AU in which Faith wakes up from her coma having forgotten about killing Allan Finch and everyting that happened afterwards [one shot; 16,904 words; Buffy POV]

Together: Season 3 Buffy AU in which the Homecoming Dance goes a bit differently [one shot; 2,711 words; Faith POV]

Done: post-canon Buffy fic set a few years after the end of Season 7, with Buffy having mostly stepped back from being an active Slayer [one shot; 4,312 words; Buffy POV]

Mixed Signals: post-canon Buffy fic looking at Faith's changing relationship with Buffy since first meeting her [one shot; 4,919 words; Faith POV]

5 Do you respond to comments?

Not often or promptly enough. I try though: I really do appreciate the comments I get a lot.

6 What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Think this is a toss-up between two different canon-compliant Faith POV one-shots: One Girl In All The World and Calling.

7 What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Together is the happiest and fluffiest thing I can imagine ever writing.

8 Do you get hate on fics?

I don't think so? None that I can remember anyway. (I do use the block and mute features on Ao3 though, so maybe I'm just blissfully ignorant.)

9 Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

No. Just don't have the talent for it.

10 Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I don't have any published crossovers but I do have very vague ideas for a Buffy/Farscape crossover that I sometimes play around with in my mind. (Largely inspired by the joke of taking the couple of times Crichton makes references to 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' which his crewmates don't get, and pretending that they're right to assume he's talking about a person he knows rather than a TV show he used to watch.)

11 Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge (and honestly I'm not sure I'd want to know if I had?).

12 Have you ever had a fic translated?

If I have I don't know about it (and I would love to know if I did!).

13 Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. I think it might be fun, but I'd probably have to change the way I write a lot.

14 What's your all time favorite ship?

Moya!

I mean, look at her!

(Oh, okay, it's Buffy/Faith, if that wasn't obvious.)

15 What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I'd love to finish either of my uncompleted Mass Effect fics (the first and longest, Residuum, is actually fully planned out and has been for years: I just got stuck on writing a particular chapter and never managed to come back to it; I had a fairly detailed plan for Night Winds in Nos Astra when I posted the first chapter but then I decided I hated it and never figured out how to fix it.)

16 What are your writing strengths?

Dream sequences. Internal monologues. Foreshadowing. Planning. Quoting bits of canon back at the reader in hopefully interesting ways. Hopefully getting the characters' voices sounding reasonably accurate.

17 What are your writing weaknesses?

Deadlines. Brevity. Physical descriptions. Titles.

18 Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I haven't really thought about it much before, honestly.

19 First fandom you wrote for?

Mass Effect is the first fandom I submitted anything for anywhere online. I wrote some Avatar: The Last Airbender fic before that though (a long Azula POV AU that I would kind of like to come back to one day, though I'd probably have to rewrite it from scratch).

20 Favorite fic you've written

Realistically, I think popular consensus must be correct that Coexist is the best thing I've ever written (though I sometimes wish I'd spent more than a minute thinking up a title). It's definitely the work I'm proudest of, and I think it contains some of my best writing (and ... well, most of my writing, based on the numbers I just posted). But I have a bit of a soft spot for some of my earlier Mass Effect fics, which aren't incredibly polished but I learned a lot from working on, and for Last Year's Rain Didn't Fall Quite So Hard as well.

Tagging: @juanabaloo @beatriceeverytuesday @explosionshark @bodytoflame-ao3 and anyone else who wants to do this.

[crusherthedoctor]

I got tagged by @beevean for the WIP Whenever meme, so I guess I gotta share a little bit more now, eh. :]

How about a trademark scenery description this time:

The cliffs were blessed with a sleepy royal blue, with the foliage that was currently dangling from them sharing practically the exact same hue. From the corner of Tails' vision, he could have sworn some of the leaves were gleaming like glass, though perhaps that was merely the effect brought on by the rays of light seeping in from the pastel sunset above. Even the sand itself had gradually been taking on that distinctive blue with the further they went in, albeit it was considerably lighter courtesy of mixing with its natural creamy tones.

As the sound of water rang through their ears, no doubt the work of the generous helping of waterfalls that occupied both sides - of which some were wider than others - that brought Sonic's attention to the puddles that dotted the sand. Disregarding Trudy's efforts to not accidentally trip her way into any of them, the water was... glowing? He reckoned his eyes could have played tricks at first, but upon squinting, he could more decisively notice the water was indeed pulsating with illumination. Granted, they were technically indoors now, but it was apparent that this was not the sole culprit for this particular curiosity.

He took one more passing glance at the sights surrounding him... and frowned. As if by irony, the beauty in front of him brought his mind back to Eggman. How he could never appreciate something of this magnitude.

"Why would he want to ruin this," he muttered bitterly.

[cream-and-tea]

HEYYY so. scanning a menu rn. pallas & agnes 11 12 14 and 56 because it's been half a day and i'm still incredibly abnormal about them 👍

well i’m abnormal about them too this is very effective symbiosis 👍 (questions from here!)

If someone was impersonating them, what would friends / family ask or do to tell the difference?

hmm. when it comes to pallas i think it’d come down to how whoevers doing the impersonating acted around other people. because from the outside pallas seems like they act the same way around everyone, but in reality they really don’t??? like they are openly hostile to almost everyone but often in slightly different ways. how they interact with fiver (who they hate) and calliope (who they also hate) might come across as very similar to someone who’s only observed them, no matter how closely, but if those two interacted with a doppelgänger one after the other they would probably be able to put together that something was Up. either that or agnes could ask about any of the shit that happens in chapter ten of the book bc literally no one knows about that except the two of them.

agnes has a lot of niche interests and hobbies that would make for easy testing but it’s also entirely in character for her to sometimes not remember obvious details/facts about them or mix things up, so i think watching how the imposter acted as her in a stressful situation would be the most surefire way to tell. if the imposter can’t replicate the specific way she snowballs from placating and peacekeeping to denial that anything remotely bad is even happening it would be a hard sell to the people (especially pallas) who know her. also she’s allergic to strawberries and i feel like that would be a hard thing to fake effectively lol.

What’s something that makes them laugh every single time? Be specific!

oooo okay okay. for pallas i think there’s a painting in one of The Library’s art halls that’s some very simple pastoral scene of like. a girl sitting by a window with a cat on her lap. except. except. it is so clear that whichever artist did it could not paint animals for shit and the cat in the painting is medieval heraldry levels of weird looking. they probably found it while exploring as a kid, lost their mind laughing over it, and even now have to suppress a smile when walking past it. tbh not much makes them laugh but i do think they have a fondness for irony or observational humour, if only under very specific circumstances.

agnes struggles A Lot with jokes (itsthe autism ain’t it!!), she’s always laughing at the wrong things or not laughing at all or asking questions that ruin the punchline and it’s generally just a bad time for her, so i think for comedy to work for her it has to be very obviously intended as comedic and she has to know what exactly makes it funny, stuff like puns or even knock-knock jokes. she’s also someone who laughs a lot in general, either when she’s very happy or very nervous it’s kinda her go-to response. sometimes the circumstances of your life get so absurd that you just have to laugh at it all and she has loooong since passed that threshold

How do they put out a candle?

pallas does the “lick your fingers and pinch the wick” move but they don’t lick their fingers because they’ve got bloodflesh magic. except pallas almost never uses their powers for healing they just always think that hypothetically they could use their powers for healing, which means they’re accumulating reckless little injuries all the time bc technically they can fix them later. they like never remember to actually do that though.

agnes doesn’t “put out” candles if she lights one she is letting that thing burn to nothing so she can mess around with the melted wax. she’s also the kind of person who’d have more than one scented candle going at once so her room smells like a particularly tiny stuffy occult store

If they’re scared, who do they want comfort from? Does this answer change depending on the type of fear?

pallas generally doesn’t want comfort when they’re scared because that would require another person seeing them be scared and they would rather be dropped headfirst into the marianas trench than submit themself to that. but when they do want it they almost always want it from the director (<- head of The Library who became their personal tutor at age 13 when their powers started flaring out of control) (<- more succinct way of saying ‘who metaphorically stuck their brain in a blender and turned it onto the highest setting’)

this desire mostly stems from how they do view the director as a parental figure, despite her always insisting that all she has ever done for pallas is teach them and that is all she will ever do (<- things said by a woman about to obliterate any boundary in her relationship with this kid while still insisting on a facade of chilly professionalism.) and despite hating themself for viewing her that way. like that is their boss and their principal and their handler and their colleague and their god but that’s also their mom! and sometimes all they want when they’re scared is for her to tell them it’s not real it can’t hurt them and everything is going to be okay! the thing is that the director knows this and will occasionally offer parental comfort to pallas so that they have to choose between refusing it or accepting it and being punished for doing that. shits bad in here.

as for agnes she figured out pretty early that she couldn’t really turn to either of her parents (her mother would never take her seriously and her father would offer her comfort but then inevitably tell her mother who would get angry with her for upsetting her father. rinse repeat) so for years she ended up seeking out the ghosts she saw in the abandoned town her family were based in. bc of the nature of how ghosts work in lay me down they couldn’t be much help when it came to talking her down or empathizing with her emotions, but she developed a habit of finding the most frightening one she could (like someone who had died a particularly gruesome death) and focusing on that instead of what she was afraid of, which usually worked, and if it was only going to make things worse there were plenty of more peaceful-looking ghosts who it’d be easy to pretend to have a very soothing nice conversation with. flawless system!!!

now that she’s away from home and in The Library pallas has become her go-to person for comfort which they are. um. remarkably bad at giving. but the comfort they provide is a lot more tangible in agnes’s mind (even if something is coming to kill me pallas will kill it first. even if something out there is bad pallas is worse. pallas needs me so they can’t let me get hurt.) so she can handle their TOTAL lack of understanding and sympathy. they’ve also never outright denied her or turned her away when she comes looking for comfort no matter how uncomfortable it obviously makes them (i mean. they’ve never actively welcomed or encouraged her doing it either but that doesn’t matter to agnes at all) and she sees this as a promising sign that she’s making progress towards her eventual goal of Getting Pallas To Be Vulnerable. she gets to feel safer and she gets to make pallas express an emotion in front of her it’s a win win in her books. everyone is always saying ‘agnes why do you keep sticking your head in the lions (pallas’s) mouth’ and never how was the mouth was the mouth fun the mouth looked fun. also the lion (pallas) literally promised her it would never ever bite down. so there <3

[zacharyleigh316]

the ghost of you is burned in every tape I mix

Suptober Prompt: Day 9 - Vintage | the ghost of you is burned in every tape I mix | Word Count: 2.3K | Teen and Up | Read here (or below cut)

Feelings were never Dean's strong suit-much to his brother's chagrin, he's sure. But some things are just too painful, too fresh. And some things...just don't stay dead.

Me, posting in the year of our lord and savior 2022? A true surprise, I know, I mean, seriously who would’ve thunk? But alas, the cryptid (or hermit, whichever suits your fancy) emerges at long last with a little treat for Suptober 2022. I can’t do every prompt, unfortunately, because y’know ‘life’ but, if all goes accordingly, I’ll have some more to post throughout the month, opposed to my first, and only, submission last year. Anyway, I hope you enjoy ‘the ghost of you’, which, technically, shouldn’t exist since I swore to myself I’d never write anything post the latter half of s15...so you’re welcome. And I’m sorry (lol)

“Jesus, Dean, it’s like a cassette graveyard in here.” 

Sam fixed the box in his lap with a glare, the sound of plastic on plastic making Dean’s chest ache. He refused to even look over at Sam, didn’t dare turn his head in that direction, couldn’t bare to watch him sift through the collection of mix tapes, jaw clenched and knuckles white on Baby’s steering wheel. 

“Do you even listen to these anymore?” Sam asked, pulling one from the box. “I mean, this one looks like it hasn’t seen the light of day in years.” 

Dean said nothing, but swallowed harshly at the wave of emotion building up. Sam looked over, a series of emotions flickering across his face, too perceptive for his own good. 

“Dean-“

“They’re vintage.” He managed, finally, cutting off whatever Sam was about to say. 

He didn’t want to hear it.

“It’s part of my aesthetic. Can’t just ‘get rid of them’, Sammy. Who do you take me for?” He lied, chancing a look over at his brother.

Dean flashed Sam a grin; deflecting to humor was what he did best. He could tell Sam didn’t buy it, not for a second—they knew each other too well for that—but it didn’t stop Dean from putting on that thinly veiled mask anyway. 

Fake it till you make it, right? 

Sam huffed, and rolled his eyes, clearly tired of Dean’s bullshit, but too smart to dig any further. Dean reckoned Sam was right; knowing him, he was probably seconds away from clamming up at any mention of…feelings. 

Sam shifted his attention back to the box of cassettes, the movement drawing Dean’s own eyes down to the tape still in Sam’s hand, which in turn made the older Winchester’s breath catch. Feeling the hot sting of unwanted tears well up, Dean quickly looked away, and glued his focus back onto the road, an endless inky black river of asphalt that stretched on for miles, absorbing Baby’s headlights as she urged forward. Much to Dean’s chagrin, it didn’t provide any of its usual comfort—quite the opposite, in fact.

“Anyway, vintage isn’t the word I’d use, Dean.” Sam added after a while, breaking the silence. “I’m just saying, you could stand to lose some of these.”

“And I’m just saying you could mind your own damn business.” 

Sam sighed, “Dean,” and Dean rolled his eyes, hating how exasperated his name on his brother’s tongue sounded.

“Not in the mood, Sammy.” he warned, through gritted teeth. Too close.

“Do you even remember what’s on most of these?”

“I’m serious, Sam, drop it.” Dean snapped, body tensed and wired, looking for a fight. 

“What happened to the you of a few minutes ago, the version of my annoying little brother who wasn’t this nosy? Who knew when to stop poking the bear? Can I get him back?”

“I wouldn’t have to poke the bear, Dean, if you just talked to me, and answered me-“ Dean opened his mouth, “-without being a smart ass.” Sam quickly added, effectively shutting whatever smart ass remark Dean was about to make, up. 

“I haven’t even seen you listen to most of these.”

Because they’re too painful, he didn’t say.

“They’re basically clutter, at this point.”

But they’re not, they could never be, his mind screamed.

“I get it.” 

No you don’t, you can’t, Sammy, and his heart broke all over again.

“Being sentimental over the past, or whatever, but this just makes you a hoarder Dean. Sometimes it’s better to just let things go.” 

But can’t you see, that isn’t an option for me, because it’s the only thing I’ve got left of-

Dean made a sound that had Sam looking over from the passenger seat in concern, a sound neither of them knew Dean was capable of making, and Sam dropped the tape back into the box. 

“Um, okay, alright, we’ll just…I mean, I’ll just…” Sam trailed off, and swallowed thickly, placing the lid back on the box, and the box back into the glove compartment. 

“Right.” He muttered awkwardly, almost missing the broken, whispered ‘thanks’ that came from Dean. 

That alone was surprising enough for Sam to shut up for the remainder of the trip back to the bunker. 

Dean pulled the Impala up to the entrance and shifted her into park, but kept the engine running, making no move to get out. Sam furrowed his brows in worry, feeling that there was a lot unsaid between them, but undid his seatbelt and scrambled out of the car.

“Are you coming?” He asked, despite knowing fully well that Dean wasn’t. 

“Nah, you go ahead.”

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, Sammy. ‘S’all good. Just gonna go out for a drive.” 

Sam hesitated, standing just outside the passenger side door, before nodding and heading off into the bunker without another word. Dean let out the breath he was holding, and put the Impala into drive, pulling her back out, and away from the bunker entrance just as quickly as they had previously arrived. 

He didn’t drive for long, unable to stand the silence just as much as he hated the noise. He loved his brother, but it wasn’t who he really wanted beside him on the bench seat. He loved his brother, but it wasn’t the same. 

Dean stopped the car upon a nondescript field, empty aside from acres of tall grass. He figured it was as good a place as any to have a moment to himself, where he intended to let out all the pent up emotion that had been steadily brewing since Sam brought out that box full of tapes. 

Before he could stew any longer, or second guess himself, Dean leaned over and retrieved that very same box from the glove compartment. It didn’t take long for him to find the one he was looking for, the white plastic yellowed, and the sharpie faded, with age, but he knew what it said. How could he forget? He remembered the day he gave it to Castiel, after the many grueling hours he had spent painstakingly adding each song; all the things he could never find the words to say, so he put them into a mixtape instead, just as his dad had done for his mom all those years ago. How Cas tried to give it back, and how Dean had refused, picking it up off the edge of the table where the angel had placed it, oh so gently, as if giving it up was the last thing he wanted to do, and returned it with a gruff, “it’s a gift, you keep those”.

Dean’s hands shook as he put it in, and stopped, just short of pressing play. He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering whatever little resolve he had left, and jabbed the button, the intro to Zepp’s Ramble On coming through Baby’s speakers. 

The second he heard Plant’s voice, the air inside the Impala suddenly became stifling, thick enough to choke on your own breath. Dean stumbled out of the driver seat, knees and palms hitting the ground as he dry heaved into the grass. Bile burned the back of throat, and tears spilled steadily from his eyes, blurring his vision. A mangled gasp wrung itself up and out his mouth as he cried, his fingers digging into the soil for purchase, and the dampness soaking into his jeans went ignored. 

No matter how hard Dean tamped down the hurt, the pain of watching the one person, your person, die in front of you, knowing this time was real, this time was it, it was always still there. It never left. Because Cas was gone, lost to the Empty, and Dean was left behind with only the ghost of a memory, and some ‘vintage’ cassette tapes.

Tapes that he hadn’t listened to, not since he made the damn things, not since it happened. Where Castiel confessed his love, something Dean didn’t even think was possible—not for them, certainly not for him—and then fucked off to wherever with Billie and the Empty because it was his true happiness or whatever.

Whose true happiness was making this big speech about how the (supposed) love of your life changed you so irrevocably, and being okay with dying without reciprocation?

“Stupid.” Dean croaked, body shaking. “You were so fucking stupid, Cas.” 

He looked skyward, face streaked with tears, and screamed up at the heavens. “Fuck you, man. Seriously, Cas, fuck you!” 

He didn’t know where Cas was, where the Empty was, or if he could even hear him.

“What about my happiness, huh? Did you really think I’d ever be happy if you-“ he swallowed, “-if you weren’t here? After everything? After…what I said in purgatory? 

“C’mon, man, you know me better than that. Probably better than anyone. Even Sam. So why-“ his voice cracked.

Dean could feel the exact moment his heart split in two, opening like a fissure, a weeping wound reopened, just as fresh as it was the day it was created. 

“Why’d you leave? Why’d you leave me, Cas I-“ he dropped his voice, and whispered the last part, like a secret spoken only to the wind. “-I need you.” 

Dean closed his eyes at the new onslaught of tears, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of shit he was feeling.

“Fuck man, I need you, so friggin much, it hurts.” 

How years ago in days of old…

When magic filled the air…

“You gotta know that right? Even if I didn’t say it? If I couldn’t say it?” He pleaded, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes.

'Twas in the darkest depths of Mordor…

I met a girl so fair…

“Fuck, Cas, I don’t even know if you can hear this, wherever you are, but please…come back.” He pulled his hands away, and blinked his blurry eyes back up to the sky.

Come back home, to me, he didn’t say, but it was heavily implied.

But Gollum, and the evil one…

Crept up and slipped away with her…

“I was so angry, at first. You just fucked off, just like that, man, after telling me about the deal, and then saying you love me…who does that shit? I didn’t-I didn’t get to process shit, Cas, didn’t even get to tell you…and then I blink and you’re gone.”

*I guess I keep on rambling…*

“You know I sat on that floor for hours after it happened? Wouldn’t even answer my phone. Sam kept calling and I couldn’t even be bothered to care, because I just lost you. It hurts so freaking much, Cas, you gotta know. You gotta know how I feel.”

Doodoo doodoo doodoo doodoo doodoo…

I gotta keep searching for my baby…

Dean looked around, the meadow still just as quiet and still as it had been when he first arrived. He was still just as alone as he was when he first arrived.

(Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby)…

I gotta keep-a-searchin' for my baby…

“Yup. Figures.” He muttered, wiping the tears off his face. “Don’t even know why I thought that would work.” 

(My, my, my, my, my, my, my baby)…

Yeah yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yeah yeah 

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah…

“Fuck,” he laughed, the sound both bitter and hysterical, “what am I even doing? This was stupid…I feel like crap.” 

He got up, wincing at his popping knees, and turned back to the Impala, just as Plant’s vocals started to fade. 

I can't find my bluebird…

Cas was gone, his brain supplied helpfully.

As if he didn’t already know.

I can't find my bluebird…

His bluebird was lost to the Empty forever, that much was clear.

Dean let the song finish, using the last few seconds to collect himself, fists clenched down at his sides. He couldn’t help but think how wrong Sam was; he didn’t feel any better after letting his emotions take over. Hell, he just had a chick flick moment with himself, and he still felt like ass. 

He unfurled his hands when the next song on the tape rolled over, crescent shaped marks from his nails tattooed on the skin of his palms. He welcomed the pain, reminded him he wasn’t completely numb, yet, after everything. 

A small breeze made its way through the meadow, faintly rustling the grass, and sending shivers down Dean’s spine. Thinking nothing of it, he sniffed, and reached out to pat Baby’s roof, deciding now was a good as time as any to start heading back to the bunker; it would just get colder as the night went on.

Just then the tape stopped abruptly, and Dean cursed, but just as he reached in to take it out, the radio popped and crackled to life, rapidly scanning through static. He furrowed his brows in confusion, only to stumble backwards in surprise when Baby’s lights started to flicker.

“What the-“

The flutter of wings behind him effectively cut him off, and Dean’s eyes widened, heart skipping a beat. He whipped himself around, and let out a sob of relief at the angel standing there, his angel standing there, trench coat and all. 

“Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

He didn’t even care how it was possible, not yet, not when Castiel was right there. Dean ran toward him, and wrapped Cas in the biggest embrace, starting to sob proper when Dean felt Cas hug back. And, in a complete turn of events, Dean found he was done waiting.

He pulled away, just enough to see Cas’ face, before joining their lips together. Cas made a pleased sound, and pulled Dean closer, Dean letting himself melt into Castiel like it’s where he belonged.

”I know. I heard you, Dean, I heard you.” Cas whispered breathlessly against Dean’s lips. 

“I’m home.”