#no idea what's going on on ya'lls dash

[thegnomelord]

sof and cute hcs of eldritch reader trying to learn how to people (and maybe some raunchy ones about learning how human "mating" works) hhhhnnnngggh

Imagine Learning To Be Human

CW: SFW and NSFW First TF141 with SFW, then NSFW headcannons, sexting, masturbation, sex toys, morning after (no sex), sexual nudity, nonsexual nudity, implied poly141. GN reader, 500-900 words for each blurb, so somewhere around 5.5k words. Imma be quiet for the next week or so as I prepare for an exam so I'm feeding ya'll :Dd

Imagine SOAP— It's safe to say you're not the best with expressing what you think, especially not in this hollowed out corpse a tiny fraction of your consciousness inhabits. The more you try, the less human your attempts come out, only remembering that humans don't bend that way or don't do something after you've done it. You find yourself gravitating to Soap because he is the opposite of you, so open and responsive like an open book.

Imagine; observing Soap as he tries to piece together the fragments of a bomb, muttering curses under his breath as if the object had just called football 'soccer'. He's so concentrated he forgets the rest of the world exists, oblivious to you sitting across from him. But that's not a problem as it gives you a chance to watch and try to mimic what his face does; the slight hint of teeth as he nibbles on his lip, the furrow of his brows, the tenseness of his jaw pulling on his throat muscles…

You try to mimic every emotion he goes through as he tries and fails and succeeds and fails again to fit the pieces together like a jigsaw, but the hardest one to do is that smile of his. For some reason you just can't get it right, lips pulling back too far, teeth too much on display and brows too furrowed so you end up looking like an old savage.

Then as if to spite you, Soap looks up at you and immediately snorts. "What're yea doin' there Bonnie?" He coughingly laughs as your facial features return to your statue like state.

"Trying to look like you." You huff; at least you can do that correctly.

"Oh, look strapping don't I?" He snorts, doing what Ghost calls 'fishing for compliments' (though you're unsure how one can fish for abstract ideas).

"No more than the rest." You shrug and see him roll his eyes, though the corners of his lips are still quirked up, a hint of teeth on display and vestiges of dimples framing his mouth. "How do I do that?" You ask and motion to his face.

"Do what? Smile?" You snorts, already beckoning you over like you're a dog. "It's easy."

You lean across the table, tilting your head to indicate confusion but leaving your face a blank canvas. It takes all of your presence of mind not to give an earth shattering purr when his hands cup your jaw, distant stars quivering as his blunt nails scratch at your throat for a blissful second.

"Here," His thumbs settle at both corners of your lips, putting gentle pressure until he pushes the flesh back and up in a way that's natural to the skin suit but not you. "There yea go." He grins and pulls his thumbs away after a few moments, grinning when you hold the expression.

"Now yea're as dashing as me." He chuckles and you two must look like utter buffoons just grinning at one another; you wouldn't have it any other way.

Imagine GAZ — You're not exactly alive, technically you're the antithesis to life and existence, so to you, simple rules like eating or sleeping are no more than chalk guidelines after a rainstorm. Gaz doesn't subscribe to this idea, he's always trying to get you to indulge in these human comforts and you always allow him, even if it does include eating more things in a week than most of your kin have consumed in a millennia, if that.

Imagine; wandering the halls on a lazy Sunday morning, no drills to run or missions to prep for, and being drawn to the communal kitchen by the sound of boiling water and banding pans. You find Gaz cooking breakfast for the boys; he's the only one who can cook (according to him) seeing as Price seasons his food with hope, Ghost burns everything into coal and Soap's not allowed into the kitchen after he'd tried to make tea in the microwave (which Gaz had later asked you to exorcise).

"Mornin'." Kyle yawns and smiles at you, dressed in shorts and one of your 'lost' shirts. You do your best to replicate his expression. "Help me, yeah?" He asks and nods his head at what he's cooking.

Your expression falls back to neutral. "You'll need to show me how." You admit as you get next to him.

"Not a problem," He chuckles as he shifts behind you, pressing his chest flush with your back with his hands hovering over yours. You feel his warmth when he rests his head on your shoulder, his hands firm and steady as he shows you how to chop tomatoes and sausages, how to hold the knife correctly and pulling your fingers back when the blade draws too close to the flesh, talking you through it until you can do it on your own.

After that he leaves you to your task as he almost dances around the kitchen, stirring a pot here then putting the kettle on there and so many more little things while you remain where you are because you, by nature, are slow; to adapt, to age, to change.

But you do it for him.

"Those look great." He grins when you're done and then herds you in front of the cooking pans, and you're a little apprehensive about the bubbling oil when he dumps what you'd cut up into the pan. But his warmth is at your back again, steady hands guiding you on how to cook the food without burning your skin and leaving you to it when you catch on.

Then you feel a tug on your shirt, his presence once again next to you, but this time he's holding a piece of sausage on the end of a fork, a hand beneath it so it doesn't drop, "Hey, taste this for me."

You contemplate arguing you can't actually taste food the same way he does, but he gives you a look that has you letting him feed you. Though it tastes no different from everything else, from his hand it may as well be sweeter than ambrosia.

"Tastes good." The way he brightens up at your words makes the food only taste sweeter.

Imagine GHOST —You and him are similar in some ways, you both prefer to stick to what you know, who you know. It's harder for you to contain what you are inside your flesh body when there is so much life around you that every additional heartbeat pulls at the edge of your cold existence. So you stick to close to the people who's warmth has grown so familiar it's indistinguishable from the burning starts making up your real body.

Imagine; attending a celebration held by both TF141 and Los Vaqueros after a mission gone well, loud music and lewd lyrics blaring in your ears as men drink like teenagers at their first frat party. You're in a more secluded part of the bar next to Ghost, both of you nursing drinks while you watch the rest act like fools.

You're a little confused when you see Gaz and Soap move in a strange way, grinding against one another and pressed so close you'd think they're trying to mate, their hands roaming the other's body so roughly you're surprised no pieces of clothing come flying your way.

"Got a free show for my drink." Ghost chuckles next to you.

"What are they doing?" You finally ask when you can't contain your curiosity.

"Dancing." He answers and swallows the last inch of booze in his cup, setting it down on the bar. "For fun." He adds, already expecting the line of questioning, as if that's supposed to make you understand.

"They just look like they're trying to mate." You point out, receiving a long sigh in return.

"How 'bout I just show you." Before you can say anything he nicks the cup of untouched alcohol in your hand and swallows it all down in one go, putting the empty cup next to his before grabbing you by the arm and pulling you outside through the back entrance. You go along with him, but you're confused when you catch Soap's eyes and he wolf whistles at the two of you.

The world outside is calmer than the busy bar, the air much colder; closer to what you are. You turn to him once he lets you go, tilting your head and furrowing your brow to convey confusion. "So…what do I do?"

"Just follow my lead." A gravely chuckle escapes Simon as he closes the distance between you two, his rough hands settling on your waist as he begins to slowly rock both of your bodies along with the music, though his movements are more contained than what you'd seen, a steady push and pull compelling you to follow him.

"Why is this different than what Soap and Gaz were doing?" You ask, clutching his shoulders in return, your forehead almost resting on his chest as you look at your feet so you don't step on his toes.

You feel his chest vibrate as he chuckles, "They set a low bar." He rumbles and his hand moves to your jaw, tilting your head up so you two lock eyes, the intensity in his brown irises drowning out the sounds of the bar. "Eyes on me."

You nod. Your eyes stay firmly on him as you sway together to a tune he hums, finding a common ground in the way your cold and his heat mixes together. Above you millions of your eyes peer down at him, for as vast as you are, for this moment your attention is on him.

Imagine PRICE — He can tell how tired you are, not physically but mentally; having to communicate and understand people without the use of a mental link, when even the most complex ideas can be conveyed easily, was starting to fray the edges of your control over your human body. He decided to do something about it.

Imagine; Price taking you and the boys fishing to a remote cabin next to a lake. Knowing you don't sleep he pulls you out by the lake at the ass crack of dawn, having you watch as he sits down on the dock, his pants pulled up to his knees so he can dip his feet in the water while he sets up the fishing rods.

"What are we doing?" You ask but follow his example and sit next to him, the cool water of the lake similar enough to the cold abyss your true body resides to calm your nerves, though you're unsure of what to do when he gives you the fishing rod.

"Fishing." He says as he shows you how to cast out the line. "You look like you need it."

You don't argue with him and just try focusing on fishing, letting him teach you how to watch the line to see when something takes the bait and when to reel it in. You’re unsuccessful your first few attempts, and you have half the mind to just jump in and wrangle the fish in the lake with liquid abyss, but he stops you.

"Catching isn't the point." He says as he smokes his cigar while he takes an old boot off your hook. "It's about relaxing, the fish are just a bonus."

You let out a low sound that vibrates the water, but you settle next to him and cast out the line again. You don’t know how long you sit there next to him, your sides touching with the fishing rod sitting loosely in your hands. After some time you manage to yank out your first fish, and you certainly don't gloat when you pull a few more fish out of the lake while he only pulls out seaweed, but the look of pride in his eyes makes it even better.

Any prospects of catching any more fish are dashed when Gaz and Soap wake up and take running jumps into the lake, scaring all the fish with their splashing. "Like school boys." Price remarks as Ghost comes up to you both, offering beers as he sits down on your other side.

"Summer vacation, captain." Ghost says and slips into the water, and you realize this is calming; in the way you haven't felt before, doing something familiar like watching Soap and Gaz trying to dunk each other in the water but feeling like you’re right there with them, laughing alongside them when Ghost scares the shit out of them by lunging out of the water.

“See sweetheart? ‘S not hard.” Price hums, adjusting his hat though his shoulders are already reddened from sunburns. He offers you his cigar and you accept it, breathing in the nicotine and smoke despite not having lungs or a circulatory system to be affected by it, before you give it back. “Taking it easy is good for you.”

You nod your head, content to sit next to him until something tugs on the line of your forgotten fishing rod and you scramble to reel it in. You give a small grunt as whatever is on the hook struggles, "Yank on it." Price tells you and you do, nearly toppling on your back when you finally win the tug of war. You blink as you look at what you've caught.

A Speedo.

"Well would you look at that." Price chuckles.

Judging by the way Johnny's suddenly bare assed and throwing obscenities in Gaelic your way, you assume that it's his.

“Caught a big one there.” Ghost notes, not yet laughing but his shoulders shake with silent laughter as he slaps Soap's cheeks (of his rear).

He yelps, confident enough to be naked in front of all of you, but not shameless enough to where his cheeks (on his face) don't redden from the way Gaz cackles and wheezes with laughter so loudly he nearly drowns. You give Johnny back his trunks before he can drown Gaz but, maybe you should fish any more.

NSFW:

Imagine SOAP— If anyone ever asks Soap why he would ever send a dick pick to an ancient god, he'll blame anything and everything; on being stood up, on loving himself a little less, on mixing up the numbers, in being black out drunk…

Imagine; him being stone cold sober when the thought invades his mind and he spends the next hour trying to take a good picture: in front of the mirror, on the bed, no clothes, some clothes, the list of positions goes on. He doesn't want to come across like he's compensating by just holding his dick in his hand like some cunt; as silly as it is, he wants the picture to actually tempt you, to make you feel something, though the question of if you even can doesn't cross his mind. He ends up with a picture of him on the bed, the tip of his hard cock peeking out from beneath the band of his boxers.

He won’t admit he holds his breath when he sends the suggestive picture to you alongside a ;) , watching the text bubble appear and disappear multiple times before you just leave him on seen. He deflates and has half the mind to delete the picture and chuck his phone to the other end of his bed but he’s stopped when he gets a message from Price.

‘My office. Now.’

Turns out you were with Price when you saw that photo and without a second thought had shown him it and asked what it meant. Granted Price had seen more than just his dick, but he was less than happy about Johnny sending you unsolicited dick pics.

You quiz Soap for nearly an hour, stone faced and unbothered while he gets redder with every question (what can you send, what not to send, how much to send, etc.) and he gets the impression that's how his ma' felt when she gave him and his sisters 'the talk'. “So, yeah.” He clears his throat, whole face feeling hot. “Don’t do it ‘lest yea’r asked or yea like ‘em.”

Thankfully Price finally lets you go when you’re satisfied with his answers and Soap can’t scamper fast enough out of his office with his whole face in flames.

He deletes the photo soon after but you've already burned it into your memory where it will outlast the stars, and the idea to reciprocate festers in your ageless mind like rot until you find yourself in front of your mirror after a shower. You play with the phone for a long time, snapping a few blurry close up shots of your face while you attempt to change it from the front to the back facing camera.

It takes even longer to figure out what to send as Soap wasn't that clear with his answers. Your siblings give you pointers, and first you attempt to take a picture of your most private part — bones snap as your rib cage splits open into a maw, vines full of eyes wrapping around your ribs like ivy as tendrils of darkness unwind just enough for the anti-light of your very essence sucks up all the light in the room — but the mirror cracks and your phone just shuts off with a pitiful whimper.

After fixing the mirror you end up doing what you do best; you mimic one of the statues you'd seen the Greeks make, the towel wrapped just along the V where your thighs connect to your pelvis, exposed from the waist up with your skin still wet. Your body isn't as demure as the muses that sculptor had used, but you hope Soap will appreciate it as you snap a few more photos and send them to Johnny with the same ;) he'd sent you.

Soap nearly chokes on his spit when he gets the photo, all the blood in his brain flooding south as his eyes rake over every exposed inch of skin, every curve and every dip in the muscles making him drool and cock harden and he's racing to your room before you even have the time to turn your phone off.

Imagine GAZ — For all of your pitfalls and misunderstandings he likes the little hints of inhumanity in your speech, in your mannerisms, in knowing you could be anywhere and anytime but you choose to be next to him. He couldn't imagine himself being enamored with an ant, yet you hang on his every word like he's revealing secrets you don't know, making him feel special; he feels so bad when his thoughts of you stop being innocent.

Imagine; He tries to keep things respectful, but his imagination runs wild when you do the simplest things. Bend down to tie your shoe? He's checking out your arse from the corner of his eyes. Stand behind him? He's suppressing a shiver just imagining your body draped over his in post-coital bliss. Check his skin for injuries? Gaz has to bite his lip to keep from begging you to touch all of him, to explore his body. Work out? Kyle's lucky if he doesn't start drooling imagining going over and licking the sweat off your skin, of feeling your muscles tense beneath his tongue while you continue to work out with him between your legs.

When he can't think of you without popping a boner he ends up having to compromise before the shame eats him whole. He goes on a random porn site; he usually prefers just using his imagination but when his mind keeps circling back to you he has no other option, and his conscience gnaws on him when he ends up finding a porn star with similar features to yours. It's not wrong if he's wanking off to a different person, right?

Heat's already burning in his stomach when he slouches in his chair, his back to his room and one earbud in his ear. Shame continues to eat at him when he's both delighted and disheartened by the fact the porn star sounds nothing like you, that his bones don't shiver like they do when you talk.

He keeps the volume low and instead focuses on rubbing and squeezing his cock the way the porn star does to a second actor, and he can't help imagining what you'd sound like; high pitched and whiny? Husky and low? Completely silent or animalistic? The idea of pulling sounds of pleasure out of your throat has him leaking. His head lolls back and he moans as he squeezes the base of his cock, his eyes open just enough to blur the fine details on the porn star's face so you two become indistinguishable.

His heart stops when you burst through his door, a random question leaving your lips before your ears pick up the moans and slick sounds coming from his direction. You're next to him in an instant, looming over his chair and caging him in with your eyes stuck to the screen. "What are you watching?"

"Get out!" He yelps and tries to push you away but it's like trying to move a mountain.

"Why does that human look like my vessel?" You persist, "And why are you watching humans mating when you told me it's wrong?" You tilt your head, luckily not seeing his hand on his hard cock, the porn reflecting in the blacks of your eyes.

“It’s on the net it’s different! People upload it for others' pleasure and-” He sputters and cuts himself off when he registers your words, freezing in place and that accidentally gets him to squeeze the head of his cock.

Your pupils widen like a cat’s when you hear the little moan escape his chest, your head automatically dropping down to see where his other hand is. "Oh,” is what comes out of your mouth when you see his hard weeping cock. “Can I?” You ask, making an odd motion with your head.

He thinks you're asking to leave and nods. "Yeah-" Gaz wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole, his cheeks burning red like he's a lobster in a pot. “-can you pl-please leave-”

He wheezes when your cold hand suddenly wraps around his cock, your hold firm and just at the edge of pain but still making him throb. A few more eyes spread across your skin to see him while you watch the video still playing on his computer, giving his cock a small pump and shaking the stars with your purr when he moans.

"What are-" He neck nearly snaps to look at you, a shiver raking his body and another moan escaping him as you squeeze the head of his cock, your skin like ice yet it makes him burn with arousal.

"Watch." You order and turn his head with your free hand so his eyes are back on the screen. You don't know why he's watching a fake 'you' mate when he could just ask you, but you know one thing; the person on the screen is competition, and by the way you roughly stroke his cock until he's whining and leaking like a tap, Gaz can tell— you don't like competition.

Imagine PRICE — He never imagined he'd need to have 'the talk' with a god; sure, you may understand how sex works, but you're hopeless in understanding the nuances of it all. If someone doesn't directly say 'let's fuck' you assume any touches from them, even groping, is just them being friendly. It makes his blood boil, seeing you be taken advantage of like that.

Imagine; You're in the bar with the boys and Price is a couple of drinks in when he sees being felt up by a stranger and you're oblivious to his advances. A green eyed monster nips at Price's heels and he doesn't notice when he puts himself next to you, 'accidentally' shoving the other guy back with just his bulk. His presence, his demeanor, and the few harsh words spoken in a clipped tone has the other guy scampering off.

He doesn't remember much after that, only the way you'd looked at him — with the intensity of a ravenous void, like he was a bright star you wanted to devour.

What wakes him isn't his clock, but the rays of sunlight gently streaming through the curtains. He groans as he registers the awful ache behind his eyes before he even has a chance to open them. He feels his bed shift and his eyes snap open automatically, he nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees you laying on your side as you stare at him.

"Jesus!" He jumps up, nearly topples over from the sudden vertigo but your steady hand on his shoulder keeps him upright, making him realize he's nude.

"He's not here." You shrug and as you sit up his sheets pool around your waist, making him realize you're naked from the waist up, though he doesn't want to think if you're naked naked. His fists clench when his eyes roam over your exposed body against his will, settling on the various hickeys decorating your shoulders and neck.

His heart sinks. "What…what happened last night?" He asks and doesn't want to know the answer, his stomach churns with shame.

"Oh, uh, you got drunk, I got you home, you started kissing and biting me." You say, tracing the numerous hickeys and indents of his teeth across your human form like they're medals. "Then you pulled me into your bed and wouldn't let me go. Then you passed out." You say as if nothing's wrong, and even if no sex happened it's little consolidation to the fact he took advantage of you.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” He asks as he takes a shaky breath, shoulders hunched up around his ears and eyes downcast, bile burning in his stomach.

"Why would I?" You tilt your head and shift positions to face him fully, the sheets falling away to reveal you are naked naked. "I may not understand you fully, but I would have stopped you if you did something I didn't want."

Price hates himself for how he can't tear his eyes away from your body. "But you let me." He insists and tries to get you to see reason, to be as angry and disgusted with him as he is with himself.

“Yes.” You are growing annoyed as well, silently cursing the frailty of the human mind; things would be easier to explain if you could just use mental communication… “You are less than insects to my kin.” You sigh and move to straddle him before he can get away, pinning him under you. “You are a sun to me.”

Even calling him a sun doesn’t do him justice; suns die out like firecrackers when your immeasurable body passes over them, when you devour them, him, you want to keep, to protect, to wrap in your cold abyss until he’s warm and safe.

He sucks in a breath, the gears in his head turning as he tries to understand. “What?-”

“Can I touch you?” You ask, your hands respectfully on your thighs as if you’re not pinning him in place with your weight. There’s a dark intelligence in your eyes, the same ravenous void staring at him behind the black of your eyes. You are not a child, you are a god.

"Why?" He sucks in a sharp breath as he breathes in your smell, the scent of dying stars and burn ozone tickling his lungs. "You don't have to." He says weakly, because what would anyone, god or not, want with him?

"You left marks on me, I want to do the same." The way you say it makes him think of godhood; not the bleak madness you are, but the type humanity romanticizes. Your lips part as if you're thinking of marking him, bits of oblivion staring back at him from the darkness of your throat when he looks too closely at your mouth.

He submits so fast. "C'mere then," He pulls you close by your head, kissing you like he's trying to steal your ichor, his body burning hot when your hands grip him tight enough to leave moon shaped bruises in his skin — the first of many you intend to give him, until you've marked him as yours and yours alone.

Imagine GHOST — Ghost prefers to show you rather than spend hours trying to explain things to you, he's more stricter with you when you try to do things you're told not to, both for your and everyone's safety. You never do quite learn.

Imagine; Ghost recently confiscated your phone when you tried to see what humans thought about you, or what they imagined you and your kin to be, on a website called 'Rule34'. Ghost had snatched the phone out of your hands before you could even click the link. After a week he gave you the go ahead to take it back, but got called to run a drill so just said to go find it.

Now, you've been told not to go rooting around other people's belongings, but while searching for your phone you'd fallen back into your old habit and snooped around until you found a small box in the bottom of his dresser. Thinking nothing of it you opened it and found…something. A lot of somethings; handcuffs, rope, weird egg shaped thing, a weird tube with a hole in it that squished like a stress toy but had a cunt molded at one end, but what drew your attention — was the dismembered black cock in the middle of the box.

You and all of your kin scratched your collective heads over the thing you now held in your hand, you'd been under the impression humans didn't carry around body parts anymore so you were stumped why Ghost had a dismembered dick and balls in his dresser. Besides the pitch black color and flat base it looked so realistic and the way it flopped when you turned it in your hand made you feel the same way humans did when seeing you.

So you got up and wen to ask Ghost about it, the thing held out in your hand when you found him with the rest of the boys. "Ghost, why do you a have body part in your closet?"

Your question made them all turn to look at you, Ghost made a strange sound like a strangled dog while Gaz and Soap fell over laughing and Price shielded his eyes with the rim of his hat.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell.” He snarls and before you know it he’s stomping over to you and dragging you by the front of your clothes, “What I tell you about snooping?”

“I couldn’t find my phone,” You try to argue but don’t struggle and just let him drag you somewhere like you're a kitten until you find yourself in his room with the door firmly locked behind him.

"Right." His tone makes it sound like he doesn't believe you, his rough hand pushes you down on his bed and he yanks the thing from your hold. “You want to know what this is for?” He asks and holds the the cock with the head pointed at you like a knife.

You nod your head and try to rise up but he pushes you back down, you're not even sure where he gets the handcuffs from but there's cold steel around your wrists before you can notice it. It's his order to "Sit and watch." that actually keeps you down, and you see the corners of his eyes shift to denote a smirk. "Do what you're good at."

You don't blink as you watch him disrobe until he's only wearing his mask, and your surprise is obvious when he sticks the thing on the floor and it stays up right. "This," He growls and sinks to his knees on the floor, a towel under him, "Is a fuckin' dildo." He reaches over and takes a small tube, squirting viscous liquid on his fingers. "You don't ever take it out of my room. Got it."

He leaves no room to argue and you rapidly nod your head. You find yourself breathless as you watch him reach behind himself and you don’t even notice how a bit of your oblivion leaks from your pores and spreads across the ground like spiderwebs, eyes blooming in the small pools all around him so you can see the way he roughly pushes a finger into himself, your hands clenching as his rim flutters around his large fingers.

"What is it for?" You find your voice, the sound ringing like the inside of a dead star the longer you watch him roughly stretch himself, pushing two then three fingers into his ass.

"Fun," He chuckles and feels so powerful when your eyes have all but turned black with hunger you've yet to notice. "It's a toy, for adults." He pulls his fingers out and squirts more liquid on the dildo, before sinking down on the toy in one fluid move that leaves him hissing at the stretch, his rim fluttering around the thick base.

Something about the way the toy is of a similar color to your real body has you wriggling beneath your human skin, the air vibrating as you groan and try to reach out to him, wanting to cover him in your body and have all of him feel all of you.

"No." Just one word has you sitting back on the bed like a dog, a pitiful sound rumbling across the void as you can do nothing but watch. "This is what you get for snooping." He's so smug with the way he has such control over you without even touching you, his thick thighs tensing as he slowly bounces on the dildo, "Now watch. Maybe if you're good I'll let you touch me."

You'll do whatever he says so long as you get to feel him.

[midnightmoonytales]

hey can I ask Slytherin x reader what if the reader got into detention with Mattheo and Theodore and like in the first episode the detention was to help hagrid do something in the forbidden forest and the reader got lost and they all panic just to find tomorrow morning that the reader was peacefully eating breakfast at the campfire she build and be like "look guys I found a unicorn hair " sorry if it is to long I just can't get it out of my head

A/N: Uhm first off...I love this. Ya'll are feeding me, and I'm supposed to be feeding yall. It's also not too long, my dear; great ideas come at great lengths. sometimes. I started writing this at work and continued it in class - I totally have my priorities straight lol. I also apologize if it aint that good - I felt bad for how long it took to get this out

CW: Animal abuse, friends being sarcastic assholes to each other, death?. Lmk if I missed anything.

DON'T HURT ANIMALS - IF I FIND OUT YOU HURT AN ANIMAL IM COMING FOR YOUR KNEES

Summary: Mattheo and Theodore drag you into one of their little schemes, resulting in the three of you getting detention. What will they do when they seem to have lost you in the forbidden forest.

Not edited

WC: 2.8K

<><><>

It was an eerily quiet night in the castle. Too quiet, no student nor teacher in sight…not even a ghost. Halting to a stop, looking around suspiciously, straining your ears in search of a noise - maybe Peeves' vexatious schemes or Ms. Norris's beady paws- yet you heard nothing other than the wind blowing through the trees. Shifting the stack of books in your arms you continued your stroll back to the Slytherin common room. You spent the last beading hours of free time scrunched up over piles of books, preparing for OWLS. Chimes of the bells noted there were only a few minutes until curfew, most students had already found their way back to their common rooms - rather hoping to not be pulled into detention. 

You hadn’t worried about increasing your pace, seeing as the dungeon was only around the corner and down the stairs. Even if you didn’t make it inside the common room before the last chime of the bell, the prefects didn’t tend to be in the area till five after. Clocking when and where at certain times, after falling asleep one too many times in the library. The sound of rapidly increasing footsteps and the shout of inaudible yells caused you to stop at the corner, confused. Peering over your shoulder, you noticed dumb and dumber running from a fuming filch and Ms. Norris. The smell of burnt skin filled the hall as they approached, you didn’t have time to question what they did before they forcibly grabbed you by the arms and continued running, the books you had just checked falling onto the floor. 

You would think that the best place to hide would be the common room which was less than thirty feet away, and the benefit of Filch not being able to access inside. Unfortunately, Mattheo and Theodore dragged you down a different route. Up the stairs on the left, past the dragon statue, only to ascend up more flights of stairs. There was no reason that you would have to run away with these two - until the last bell of the night chimed, ringing through the halls - now you had no choice but to run from Filch. 

The boys were ready to dash left - until you forcefully grabbed them by the collars - forcing them down a different path away from the group of Ravenclaw prefects that patrolled that section of the castle. The last thing you needed was to get busted by a know-it-all Ravenclaw prefect. Your legs were aching and your chest felt like it was going to burst from running all around the castle non-stop, but Filch was still on you. That lot of you hastily made your way to the moving stairs near Gryffindor Tower in hopes of losing Filch. He might have enough joy from throwing students into detention to fill his stamina for a while, but sooner or later it would have to die out. 

You rounded the corner, the stairs were about to move and if you didn’t get on them now, you would be caught by Filch. The three of you booked it with what energy you had left, jumping over the gap created by the stairs moving. Mattheo and you landed barely just making it. Theodore on the other hand wasn't as lucky - holding on by his hands from the stairs trying to pull himself up before the stairs reconnected to another. Hastily, Mattheo and you grabbed him by his shoulder, hoisting him onto the stairs with you. Filch yelled at you all from his place on the bottom set of stairs that led to the third floor of the castle. 

As you all caught your breaths you made it into the hall, taking the long way back to the common room. Grateful for the breeze cooling you down, you didn’t realize how hot it had gotten running. The adrenaline pumping through your veins makes it feel as if your body is cold. Maybe this was the feeling Mattheo and Theodore were always looking for. The excitement…the rush. The boys were rambunctiously laughing and hitting their hands together, sweat flinging from their heads as they moved around. Already feeling gross, choosing to speed up faster to get in front of them and away from their sticky sweat. 

Rounding the corner, you immediately halted to a stop as you peered at the silvery-gray tabby cat, its eyes glistening eyes staring up at you before it morphed into a lanky woman in green robes, with pristine-pinned up gray hair. Any amusement that you previously felt earlier instantaneously drained from your body. At that moment, you wished it was Filch who had caught you and handed you off to Professor Snape, that would have been more tolerable. Maybe a little scrubbing of the cauldrons or the mopping of the dungeon floors. Mattheo and Theodore weren’t far behind, too busy messing around to notice the presence standing before them. As they approached your side, your hands quickly smacked them upside the back of their heads. Their quick remarks died out on the tips of their tongue as they finally recognized the women standing before them. You could almost see their souls physically deflating. 

“Professor McGonagall, looking good tonight,” Mattheo said with a wink, shooting finger guns at her. A swift bludger to the side would have been better than being forced to see Mattheos’ weak attempts at smooth talking his way out of another detention. She remained motionless, but her presence was still ever so threatening. Hands clasped together in front of her, quizzical brow sitting high on her face. The wind appeared to be enacting a mirthless taunt as her eyes bore into you all. 

“And what are the three of you doing away from your common rooms after curfew?” She questioned expectantly, her gaze piercing through your soul. A chill ran up your spine at her awaiting stare. There was no good lie for being on the other side of the castle during this time of night. Ms. Norris wouldn’t be the only cat you would have to watch out for in the halls from now on. It was like you were second years all over again, running into Professor McGonagall in her animagus form when you were roaming the castle - similar to tonight. 

A horsed breathing appeared from behind you, turning around slightly, you noticed an extremely out-of-breath Filch and Ms. Norris. You hadn’t heard his lopsided footsteps coming, too focused on the trouble you had gotten dragged into. If your fate wasn’t sealed before it would definitely be now. “T-they were,” Filch started, leaning over to take a breath, “They were setting things on fire, burned the end of poor Ms. Norris’ tail in the process, ma’am.” It felt like you had hit a brick wall. Of course, that's where the smell of burning flesh came from. Not even wanting to know how they managed to get Filch's mangey snitch involved. Leave it to Mattheo to set things aflame. 

With that, the professor requested that you all followed her to her office as she decided your fate. Maybe you would have to clean all of the animal droppings from today's Care of Magical Creatures class. Maybe she would have you scrub the great hall, or have you organize the entire library with the librarian. That would be a bore for sure. She sat at her desk silently, gazing up at the three of you every couple of minutes. Taking it upon yourselves to sit and relax before you found out your fate. Mattheo and Theodore took it upon themselves to start flicking pieces of paper at each other, not caring if it hit you in the process. It was a bad idea to decide to sit in between the two. “I’m surrounded by bloody idiots,” you groaned as you rubbed your temples, slipping further into the chair. 

“Hey, at least we’re hot,” Theodore barked out, flicking a piece of paper straight at the side of your head. Mattheo laughed in the background, giving Theodore a high-five. Maybe you could get away with their deaths, that sounded more appealing than sitting with them. 

“The only thing hot in here is the heat radiating from the lanterns,” you shot out with a laugh. Earning a ‘Hey!’ from the two boys sitting next to you. They weren’t going to be the only ones having fun tonight, especially not after dragging you into this. Mattheo and Theodore weren’t bad looking, but you would never confess that. It would go straight to their already small heads. They shared a singular brain cell most times for crying out loud. 

It didn’t take long for McGonagall to shush you all.  Standing up from her desk, pulling her glasses off to hang from her wrinkly neck, “Enough, tonight you three will be helping Hagrid in the forbidden forest.” She continued, gesturing to where Filch was standing in the corner, “Mr. Filch will guide you all there.” Filch's grimy smile spread across his face at the news. Groans left all of your mouths, going into the forbidden forest was a death wish. While Hagrid was never rude to anybody, unless they deserved it, being around him could be a bore. That was all left for Weaselbee, freak brain, and four eyes. You would think they were a gamekeeper like Hagrid with how much they hung out with the giant. 

<><><> 

The whole way to Hagrid's hut, Filch was going on and on about how he wishes he could punish students like he did in the old days. He even wished the lot of you a fake ‘good luck’, along with a ‘we’ll see if you're even alive tomorrow. His sickening laugh filled your ears as you pushed past him, ready to get this detention over with. Hagrid warned everyone of the danger promptly before rushing you all into the forest, complaining that it was us against the poachers. Whatever that meant, he didn’t elaborate until a while into the search, remembering that you didn’t know what you were searching for.

It had been an hour since you entered the forbidden forest with Hagrid, searching for an injured unicorn. Poachers had been on the rise and news got to Hagrid that an Unicorn managed to escape from their capture. Everyone was on high alert, between the acromantulas and dungbogs and the other creatures that resided in the forest, it wasn’t particularly the safest. Using your wands wasn't an option either, Hagrid was keen on it. Saying, ‘We don’t wanna get their attention,’ or something along those lines. Your attention is focused elsewhere. It was hard to see through the thick trees with only Hagrid's lantern. 

The forest was dense and never-ending, fog covered the grounds making it hard for you to see where you were stepping. You swore you stepped on a pile of bones at one point, the crunch under your heel leaving you disturbed. That poor unfortunate soul. The further you walked into the forest, the harder it became. You swore your ears were playing jokes on you, a distant wailing ringing in your ears every now and again. It almost seemed to be beckoning you away from the group. 

<><><> 

Mattheo had lost count of how long you all had even been inside the forest. He wasn’t really paying attention, to begin with. To him, this was just another unfortunate detention. The poachers had to get the unicorn by now, their “attempts” at saving the creature were slim. It was the cycle of life anyways, there would be more unicorns in the future, but it's illegal so gotta go save 'em he guessed. He rolled his eyes at the idea, shoving his hands into his pocket. 

Theodore and he tried messing around - whacking each other and jumping around - but were immediately stopped by Hagrid. Told that if they messed around they would scare the unicorn or attract poachers. Not that he cared much, he knew spells to easily get away from them or kill them. But he couldn’t mess up his father's plans, so getting away was the only option. Opting to mess with his wand in his pocket to entertain him. 

After a while he started growing hungry, having missed dinner. He knew you typically carried snacks in the pockets of your robe, turning around he was bamboozled to see you were no longer there. Smacking Theodore, he prompted him to turn around, becoming equally confused when he noticed you were gone. “Oi, where is she?” He quipped, stopping to look through the dense trees for any sign of you. 

“No idea mate, she was there a few minutes ago,” Theodore commented, walking back to where you were less than five minutes ago when he checked. He searched the bushes for any sign of struggle or broken branches but saw nothing. It was as if you vanished into thin air. There was no way in hell you would have gotten away from them without making some sort of sound. 

Hagrid turned around at the sound of their voice, “What are yer’ talkin' bout?” He questioned, raising his lantern so he could get a better view of the boys. “And where's yer’ friend?” He searched around the area, worried that someone might have snatched you up from behind, but he was sure he would have heard footsteps. “We ought to find her, let's go.” He grumbled, not only was he searching for a unicorn, he was now searching for a missing student. 

They had spent hours searching for you. The boys offered to split up to find you but were shut down. Hagrid couldn’t have more students to go searching for, finding you now was already hard enough. They had run into an acromantula nest at one point but luckily weren’t spotted. That was the last thing they needed. Theodore was unlucky as he had fallen into a hole, Hagrid spent five minutes pulling him out as Mattheo was dubbed over in laughter. That would be the highlight of his night. There was no way in hell that he would ever let Theodore live that down in his life. At this rate, they were lucky if they were to find you by daybreak. 

The sound of laughter filled their ears, the three of them going on to high alert. Or, well higher alert, their shoulders tensed with stress as they were already searching for you. Believing it ought to be a poacher camp nearby. Mattheo and Theodore grabbed their wands out in preparation, worried that if they stumbled upon a poacher camp, so could you. Hagrid was getting ready to sneakily guide them away when they heard your voice.

Stopping, Theodore pushed the bushes apart ever so slightly to try to find you. Hagrid and Mattheo stood over his shoulder to see. They all sighed when they noticed you sitting on the ground, a small fire lit in front of you with an injured unicorn sitting at your side. They stepped through the bushes, “We’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Mattheo spat in disbelief, “and with a bloody unicorn at that,” He was absolutely exhausted from searching damn near the entire forest for you, and you just happened to be with the one thing they came in here for. 

“Awh, you guys do care about me,” You gushed, tightening the fabric from your robe around the unicorn's injured leg. “And all this time I thought you were just heartless children with parental issues,” you laughed. You had broken off from the group when you heard the distant wailing. Normally you wouldn’t be bothered to look, but something in your gut told you to. When you reached where you heard the wailing, it happened to be the unicorn you were looking for.

 Her leg had a large gash in it and she couldn’t walk anymore. She looked exhausted. Approaching her slowly, you made sure to put your wand away and walk towards her with your hands where she could see them. She was a sight to behold, her coat shining as if it was moonlight. You understood why her coat was so valuable. It took her a while to trust you but eventually gave in. Ripping the end of your robe, made a makeshift bandage around her leg, having to tighten it every once in a while when she moved. Pulling out a baggie of mixed nuts, you offered some to her, while you didn’t know about unicorn diets you hoped she would eat some. Luckily she ate away, and when she didn’t leave after a couple hours you made a small, unnoticeable fire to keep you warm until morning. She snuggles up to your side, safely.

“Maybe we should have left you to die,” Mattheo grumbled, ready to smack you for making them worry. But they would never tell you how worried they were, they wouldn’t hear the end of it if they did. At the end of the day, or well morning, they were just glad you were safe. This would definitely go down as one of their most eventful detentions. 

<><><>

@ghostofscarley @devilishwitchfantasies

[welldrawnfish]

Okay... before this starts I apologize for both length and possible butchering of your art. I am not good at this, but your stuff wants to make me try it out. With that, here it goes:

Twig was walking through the brush, looking for stuff to throw in the pile. She thought over what Fish Guts said, “Anything pink good for food pot. Is usually soft and nummy”. She was searching for mushrooms or the occasional stray tongue. She walked through a bush when she saw them

Three humans, two facing away from her and bending over a map but one was facing her. It was a man wearing a breastplate and wielding a sword. His eyes fell on Twig, widening in surprise, before a look of recognition crossed his face.

Twig dashed off into the brush before the knight had a chance to react, running to get away from the group and trying not to lead them to the rest of the Goblins. After a few minutes, she was hiding behind a tree next to a pond, listening to hear if she was being followed. She breathed a sigh of relief and a gloved hand grabbed her shoulder. “Hey- “

Twig shrieked and jumped into the pond, swimming to the bottom. The figure walked to the edge and started speaking to her. “Whoa, Whoa, easy. I’m not going to hurt you.” When she didn’t surface, he continued, “I know you weren’t born a Goblin. I know how to change you back”.

At his last statement, her ears perked up. She’d been looking for ages, and here the solution comes walking into her forest. She surfaces and eyes him suspiciously. He has black hair and an easy smile. He sits down with his back to the tree and indicated for her to do the same. She slunk out of the lake and took a seat across from him. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I’ve been hired by the two biologists I’ve left behind to guide them here from when I was pint-sized and green. Scare off the bigger critters. Didn’t expect to see someone in the same predicament I was.”

“How do you know about that?”

“Uhh... Sixth sense I guess? I just look at you and see myself. I’m guessing it wasn’t just your nose and propensity for breathing water that’s changed, Huh?”

Twig scowled at him. She didn’t like being read like this.

“Look, I know that this is weird, but the damage can be undone. When you go into town, ask for Larin at The Drunken Fish. Oh, and bring this with you,” he said, bringing out a parchment with a runic symbol on it.

He got up and started walking away. “Wait,” Twig cried after him,”what if I don’t...”

He stopped and smiled back. “Let’s just say, you get to choose what you keep. This thing has a funny way of choosing the right type of people.” With that, he started walking back.

Twig took a last look at the parchment, and started running back to Fish Guts before they start to get worried. She was worried and excited, waiting to see what the future held

Any critiques and suggestions would be sincerely appreciated. Thank you and Good Night (or whatever time it is by you)

Are you kidding me!! You didnt butcher anything!!!

You know how amazing it is to feel like your work has birthed so many people being so creative its like, HOLY COW.

The story isnt even out yet and look how much twig has resonated with people, i love this! I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!

like you have NO idea omg

thank you so much this is so fun this si so good i cant believe people love twig that much to be writing fanfics!! it makes me want to share everything ive created and readied but if i do that then there will be nothing for the comic to surprise ya'll with!!

[turtlethebean]

Hello everyone, it is I, Turtle, the bean himself.

Silly introductions aside, this is a serious post I did not think I would have to make. Sorry if my words seem a bit scrambled; I just woke up not too long ago. Honestly, Grammarly is carrying this shit.

This is about the current situation regarding Andi and Zoe/Vaude. I just know there's going to be someone saying, "Oh, you've been friends with them for a while; therefore, you must be a zionist", and that is not the case.

Now, let me put it out there clearly: I am not on Isreal's side. I am not for this genocide. I'm not for ANY genocide. It's one of the main reasons I do not acknowledge the fact that I'm half-British.

I know I have not been as public about this as most other creators, but this is a shitposting account for the most part. I do not believe this situation deserves the same platform as my bullshit. I realise now that I probably should make a serious account, but I've had many blog ideas that have been yeeted out the window for various reasons.

Even if I don't post about it on this blog, I want people to know I've been doing my best behind the scenes - avoiding places on the boycott list, doing my click for arab dot org whenever it comes across my dash (hell, for a while it was broken for me (wouldn't proceed to the thank you page) and I used it as an opportunity to spam click), and keeping myself educated about what's happening.

I hope I've made myself clear in any way I possibly can. I just wanted to get this off my chest now before anyone tries to accuse me of anything. I have exams this week, and my mental health was bad enough the last time I did these same exams (I won't go into detail as this post is about Palestine, and also it's very personal).

Remember to do your daily click(s)! arab.org

As always, I love ya'll. /platonic

P.S. Feel free to add any other resources to this post. I just put the one I use bc I can't donate.

[pastelfates]

Talk about some of your favorite experiences on this website if you feel comfortable doing so! I'm meaning favorite threads, partners, muse experiences, etc. You've gone through a lot of hardship across multiple blogs yet you never give up and you keep doing what you love so I figured it'd be nice to talk about the positive stuff that helps you to keep going despite all the trouble.

◌・❀➵ Okie so this is gonna be long post so everyone grab a drink n some snacks! I just wanna start with that if it wasn't for my mutuals I have no idea where I'd be, ya'll have been with me through so much and some of the hardest times of my life and I can't thank everyone who has stayed enough.

◌・❀➵ FAVORITE THREADS/INTERACTIONS

➵ @morifactory ➵ Eddie and Serina meeting! Also the Riba and Serina and Riba ikea thread/ All our Carbon and Serina threads hav a place in my heart. And Talia w the blond bois! Also so far Kiki and Esmee has my heart. And ya know our first scarvi ocs and our stardew ocs. Me and Lena hav a lot of connected ocs

➵ I'm gonna count this as a thread bc it was a thread of asks but Mana once had multiple sections of the bee movie sent to her and it was absolutely hilarious. Committed to the bit with the url /frankiebeestan at that time.

➵ @constellationcrowned / @malusrecord ➵ LISTEN I care so much for Nellie, Mell, and Sunny's lil friendship (i hav a half typed starter for them in drafts shh), and Mana and Kariom's friendship is very special to me bc sobs Mana feels v comfy around him which means a lot bc she rarely fills comfy around ppl.

➵ @ervaurem ➵ Listen the family stuff with Law and the sisters is my weakness. It's been since 2021 that the fam has existed and I heccin cri. The treasure hunt thread has my heart,,

➵ This one is fairly recent but with @riftdancer, @ofstarsandskies, and @mathcs the whole Jude is evil arc has been so much fun so far!

➵ This was more so on discord but the relations have made their way to tungle but @pyonpyonpyon, @forgottenluck, @talesofourworlds, @mathcs, and @broadswordandpistol the sad boi drinking hours,, it was so cursed and sad at the same time, and it was such a highlight to me.

➵ @strebcr ➵ Can I say all of them? Just Streber and Mana have had so many good threads! Mana loves her new frog and just aaa

➵ @maligncntchain ➵ again with just recent threads but the two were cute and just silly gremlin uses the power of treats to not be immediately under the control of pecharunt was v funny to me

➵ @archivisim ➵ Sobs special place for the lil series of thread/asks we had just recently. Their similarities really just came through and they are hopefully gonna be more comfortable around each other!!

➵ @hxroic-wxlls ➵ cris it was like forever ago but the thread with Sunny and Luigi was so wholesome and I want you to know Sunny thinks Luigi is v cool. Also Mana and Simon has a v somft relationship i adore. the lil drill necklace he gave her for her birthday is one of her prized possessions.

➵ I know I posted a lot of newer stuff so I'm gonna bring up a thread from like ages ago?? 2018-2019 to be exact, the days I wrote non-seriously. I had a thread with two people over a skit in a game and it was just peak. Also that blog is still around (not deleted) so anytime I wish I can see the silly threads that bring me so much joy.

➵ Again on older threads, and while this one isn't on tumblr it is canon to Mana history. She has unapologetically set a bakery on fire with no remorse. That event also had like the first actual set appearance of REGRET and her lil maze which honestly makes me v happy bc REGRET is one of my all time favorite ocs. And Symonne's maze was there too, really care for that Ivar and Sync interaction in the rpg horror house w the fake Jude and stuff

➵ FAVORITE PARTNERS / People I adore seeing on dash

@ad-simul , @archivisim, @broadswordandpistol, @opscurus / @cpirits , @canidgrit, @castelias-comeups, @constellationcrowned / @malusrecord, @electricea, @ervaurem, @forgottenluck, @historias-multorum , @hxroic-wxlls, @kaizokugaris, @lightfallls , @maligncntchain , @morifactory , @nobuverse, @ofstarsandskies, @pinklocksoflove, @riftdancer, @talesofourworlds / @outofthisgxlaxy, @soulsbetrayed,

➵ I love seeing you all on dash, your threads are all peak and I just wanna say tysm for being moots with me and allowing me the opportunity to be a part of the stories you unfold for your characters. I am forever thankful to you all for everything and to the all of you have stayed with me despite how awful things have gotten, thank you for never giving up on me and seeing something in me when even I wasn't able to. You all are the reason I'm still here, continuing this hobby I love to my core. I hope I can be around for many more years to come and that I will continue to have you all by my side.

[illprotectyou-hearteyes]

Much Ado About Nothing: No Good Very Bad Version

Hi hello I'm having my semi-yearly Much Ado fixation. I was going to handle this with an overly long comparative post about productions I've seen, then quickly realized it would be too expansive for even a 'read more' to cover its sins. So instead I'll be spamming the dash with individual rants on productions. Because this is all I can currently talk about.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

First up: the worst Shakespeare adaptation I have ever seen.

Much Ado About Nothing (2012), dir. Joss Whedon:

There are no pictures for this one because I simply will not be revisiting this film to find them. Sorry.

It's so rotten ya'll. Yeah it's on me for putting on Joss Whedon's Much Ado, but it's short and my parent's copy of it was right there one day so I put it in. And then kept it in out of morbid fascination.

Full disclosure I watched it maybe a decade ago. But to my memory it's so bad it almost circles round to being an instructive case of How Not To Do Shakespeare.

My understanding is that Whedon basically invited a bunch of friends over for the weekend on a whim to film this, which I knew going in. So I wasn't expecting a polished masterpiece or anything, but one would like to imagine you'd get some fun, playful improv energy from a bunch of friends coming together to create something on a tight timeline like that. You don't

I'm not going to judge the actors' abilities on their performances in this on account of how hastily it was was tossed together. But not since high school have I heard Shakespeare read in a way that made it seem more dead-in-the-water. The lines read as if the actors are reciting from cue cards without having been given 5 minutes to figure the rhythm of the verse or what the fuck their characters are on about. For all I know they might have been.

Actually, my apologies to my high school classmates. We were a small group of theatre and/or literature nerds, and in retrospect we were probably insufferable, but we had an interest in the topic and two weeks to read each text and a great teacher who gave us notes to help us understand and emote the text when we read in class. We sounded better than this.

Okay okay. So by now I can't remember many specific choices this production made, But I sure do recall that instead of leaving Beatrice and Benedick's past to the ambiguous history implied between them by a few key lines of dialogue and the general built-up tension between them, Whedon chose to explain away this history with a flashback. In which the whole complexity of their past is that they slept together one time and Benedick left without saying anything. It's one of the stupidest adaptation choices I've ever seen, because. because. Okay look:

1. The (from what I can recall) two whole lines of vague dialogue about Benedick and Beatrice's history manages to imply so many more interesting potentials than—that. I'll save you the close reading in this already too-long post, but they gesture towards what may well have been the beginnings of a romance between them at one time; a potential fear of commitment on Benedick's part; some action that Beatrice felt as betrayal, and perhaps deception. These suggestions segue into what you see of them in the present: e.g. Benedick's insecurities—his misogynistic obsession with the idea of women's unfaithfulness, which at times topples towards the admission of fear that he's specifically afraid no one would be faithful to him. Further, in the course of the play choosing Beatrice means rejecting the boy's club that has given Benedick companionship, yes, but also protected and cheered on the worst of his behaviours—might he (in presumably less dire circumstances) in the past have been less willing to stand by brash Beatrice in the face of their teasing, and perhaps scorn? Or perhaps it was simply that their inability to 'woo peaceably' made a ruin of matters at a time before they built up sufficient trust in their mutual affection to take the poison out of it. At the end of it, there's no knowing the specifics, but the relationship in the present is tangled and interesting enough to stretch into a complex of potential pasts. Whedon's pat summary of that past in a silent insertion does not contradict those potentials, and could tie in well enough with some, but he put in no work into so tying. Instead he seeks to swallow the might-have-beens into a single, pat event, waving away the feeling of calcified layers of affection and resentment in to explain away their history without deepening it. 2. If he had to try explaining their present dynamic through a single past event, it would have been cool if he'd put at least a gesture at a thought towards selecting an event that would be thematically resonant. Again, it could even have been the exact same event if it tied in with anything at all. If I'm being really very generous despite the nothing he has done to earn my goodwill, I'll admit that owning up to the vulnerability of using words honestly to express their emotions is one of the things the characters need to learn to do, and it's a failure on this point that causes the rift in Whedon's version. But 'communication is good' is such a skin-deep layer-one read of all the play has to say about words, about their pitiful insufficiency and frightening strength, the reality they can lay bare and the terrible viciousness they can disguise. 3. The choice also hobbles the dramatic tension of the accusation of Hero. For as much as the accusation concerns Hero's supposed cheating on Claudio, there is an inescapable emphasis on female 'purity' and chastity. The weight even the most sympathetic characters place on the mindset is quite unbalancing enough to many modern viewers, especially when the production is set in a place such as present-day America, as this one is. Having Benedick and Beatrice sleep together in a sequence that implies all the issue lies with the lack of communication and in no way suggests danger to Beatrice's reputation and future from the act itself results in the 3rd act turn coming even further left of field, and makes the characters' ethical perspectives borderline incoherent. 4. Okay yeah it's starting to feel weird that I've spent that many words ranting about a quick insert of Benedick and Beatrice having sex. You have to understand I have so much pent up rage about this production and this is one of the only concrete details I can recall to direct all that at. To clarify I'd love for them to have all the sex they want and be as conflicted about it as they fancy as long as it is thematically coherent with the narrative. Yeah I'm also not sure that sentence made this any better. Can you tell I'm asexual

Anyhoo that's it for the ranting. This production does have precisely 2 things to recommend it:

Nathan Fillion is good at Shakespeare apparently. I have no particular feelings about him as an actor outside of this, but he is The person in this film who says the lines like he has any clue what words are coming out of his mouth. Also, he plays Dogberry. And I'll be honest—I usually find the Dogberry scenes a bit of a drag. I looked forward to them so hard in this production. They were the only times I laughed. Dogberry suddenly seemed vibrant, alive, the soul of the play. I understood him for the first time. If I was in a dark parallel universe where this was the only Shakespeare I'd watched, I'd remember Dogberry as his greatest creation.

It's made by Joss Whedon, which means I get to be mean about it without feeling bad :) However I offer my sincere condolences to any decent artists who got roped into his vanity trashfire. Except Nathan Fillion, who somehow came off looking better for it. Any warm feelings I have towards the man are for making some minutes of this atrocity bearable.

Fin.

[slightly-warmer-hibiscus-tea]

do you listen to music when you work on art? if you do, do you listen to stuff that matches the vibe of what you're working on, or just whatever you feel like listening to? the atmosphere of your pieces go hard. they're really immersive and makes me feel instead of just "see," if that makes any sense. artists can nail technical stuff like anatomy, color theory, perspective, and whatever, but the way you combine everything is next-level. beyond just being skilled like "this looks good," your work really pulls you into the mood/message. i zoom into your art and get lost in the sauce. love your work so much <3

For starters this is like such a huge compliment, thank you!<3

Funny enough I just got done throwing a fit over my headphones dying right before I could start on request.

I really know nothing about music, so I just listen to whatever tickles my brain on repeat most of the time. So warning on whatever I say because I've been told my taste sucks… But I listen to vibes I associate with the character I'm working on. Though this process is pure projection on my part, seeing a lot of the music is stuff I already listen to… Some examples like:

For Leander, I put on Shayfer James, if we're being more specific "For the Departed"… And if the piece calls for some Leander silly bitch mode, we throw in some musical theater "Trust Me" from Devil's Carnival (Note: We are a BIT conflicted about this one nowadays, but surface level it works…) then to fill the air a dash of instrumental from The Last Werewolf… When it comes to Ais it's straight Mother Mother.

We might also throw personal songs in the mix to keep my brain stimulated, so we juggle through Mitski and Dirt Poor Robins here and there.

Also, bless ya'll who make TS playlists! Forgive me my memory is shit, but whoever put Talia and Leander together you have my whole fucking heart!!!

I also make a playlist for different OCs and play it when I'm working on them (I'm still in the process of getting Noble's up and running, but I have one for my other two MCs. which has some of the same songs in both because they're story intertwine in some ways. I could honestly ramble just about the thought process behind the playlist, but I should probably save that idea for the 29th or something because I'm not even sure if that would be interesting to read.)

But yeah, that's the Hibiscus/Ak music ramble… A while back I had to make a bio for my school art portfolio and threw in that I wanted to make sure every picture told a story... Music definitely plays a part in the process, I don't know how big or small a part but it's definitely a part^^;

[light-the-aconite]

I can change for you... (Part 1 of 2)

"Well well~! To think they'd send some other rock-bottom rat after me. What, am I not worth a '7th' hero anymore?" The man dressed in red hues chuckled after he saw the pathetic state of an unknown face before him. One that had dared to call out to him as he was mere seconds away from destroying a new built city hall. Despite being out of breath, the new hero straightened themselves up since this was their first battle after all. One they would win. One they would proudly boast about in the future. And one, that unbeknownst to the two, would mark the start of an unlikely relationship. ꧁ 【 ⚘ 】 ꧂ The Raging Thorn had been looking forward to their encounter this week as it would be marking their second anniversary as Hero and Villian. But whenever he showed up to "kidnap" a bus full of students, "steal" the city's savings or cause general havoc, someone else would show up. To him, they were nothing but pesky flies looking to catch a taste of his food. So he would swat them away or drag out the fight in hopes that the association would send you as back up.

But something was definitely not right, as throughout the entire week nor he or his henchmen had caught sight of you. So, when he sent his men to figure out your whereabouts, they came back with an answer. An answer he wouldn't be fond of.

In the beginning of that week, you and two others had been sent out to deal with a being who was threatening to carry out the worst scenarios if the Hero's association didn't send someone to negotiate with him. It turned out that the being wasn't looking to negotiate but spill blood and make a name for himself. The three of you had been sent to a hospital with severe and life threating injuries but even with the best doctors and hero's aiding, your life was still in danger at the moment. Though that wasn't even the half of it. One of his men mentioned that the bastard had also recorded the moment you arrived at the location and the moment he was done with you all. He posted the footage to a few websites and even went as far as revealing your identities to the public.

Clenching his fist after hearing this, the Raging Thorn was nothing but furious. Ready to kill the one who had harmed you and aching to see his stupid face black and red. He stood up from his seat and stormed out of his lair. But on his way out, his men had stopped him and urged him to see you at the hospital as soon as possible.

"W-who knows what shape Y/N is in now!"

"The more reason to find this piece of shit!" The Raging Thorn growled and as he was about to push his man out of the way, he was slapped.

"Fuck are you listening to yourself boss!?" His henchman trembled as his boss scowled at him. "Do you really want this in your conscious sir, knowing that you could've been there by their side on their last breath but instead y-you wasted time looking for some shit head who you only know his name!"

At the mention of your possible last moments, the Raging Thorn stood still lost in thought.

His henchman flinched back as suddenly his boss placed his hand over his shoulder, "Which hospital are they kept in?" ꧁ 【 ⚘ 】 ꧂ "You'll think he'll fire me?" The henchman asked his colleague as they both watched their boss dash off to see you.

Scratching his chin, his colleague shrugged, "Ehh...but if he does, can I have your gun?"

I've had this idea since May and I'd hate myself if I just let it sit in the drafts. Hopefully ya'll enjoyed it and look forward to Part 2! ⸂⸂⸜(രᴗര๑)⸝⸃⸃ (The Raging Thorn's original villain name was going to be The Crimson Thorn, but I found out the name is already taken by a band, haha.)

[meatriarchived]

gently sets this across the dash, so ya'll know directly from this creatures' mouth,

so long as we're mutuals ya'll are always welcome to poke at me & my kiddos here at any time - be it thru ims or over disc (same as acct name uwu) - for just about anything; chatting, plotting, whichever c;

i am always gonna grabby hands, im awkward / anxiety-ridden so i tend to not wanna 'bug' peeps first but do know you can at any time drop into my dms. :)

that being said, because its been tickling my brain since gun dropped the Ass-Fanfic Lore yet again:

when it comes to ships / dynamics / bonds / however you wanna call them, i don't really auto ship any of my roster with anyone, incl any canon ships. i work that out based on chemistry & hashing out ideas and thoughts about them.

on that note though, for the core friend-group: with how i write maria and now danny, they both love very deeply and very passionately. their baseline dynamics however with literally any of the group is, to me, always platonic soulmates, with the possibility of budding into something else depending on chemistry / plotting / all that fun stuff.

so when i talk about how much they both adore and love their friends (and note that this extends to other muses who get absorbed into the friend group) by default i am always referring to that platonic soulmate type of bond if we haven't directly talked about anything going further than that. with a sprinkle of silly, playful flirtiness from time to time - because what friends dont occasionally flirt? fhsdkj

but yeah c: ya'll are always free to bug me, add me on disc, whichever you're comfy with!

[wanderingchocolateeclair]

Interdimensional Therapy AU

You already know what time it is~

Time to introduce ya'll to a new au! This time it is a joint au made by yours truly (me) and @laughteronsilverwings!!

I will be posting it in parts, like chapters on here about once or twice a week! (also fun fact...at the time of posting this post, we are just under 20k words on the docs............it has been like three days.)

Summary:

–

So, one day, Hakamada Tsunagu (almost-fifteen, vigilante, technically-kinda-terrorist but he’s moved past that) meets Hakamada Tsunagu (around twenty-one, hero, is being blackmailed by the HPSC but he’s trying to ignore that). 

They don’t meet with a bang, a whimper, or a shout- it’s actually weirdly, strangely calm. Not that Tsunagu cares. But Tsunagu -both of them- kind of have to give the slightest bit of fucks about this situation. Well. One of them does. Sort of? Eh, they’ll give it a few days to wear off before starting to worry.

-

Introduction and words from both of us, under the cut:

Here is the introduction!:

so, uh, italics is me (silver) and bold is eclair- writing the start of introductions feels very awkward lmao. anyways this is just… something me and eclair simultaneously spawned out of a throwaway comment in tumblr dms. i feel like thats something yall should know. zero planning is going into this, and if there is, it was on-the-spot. we are testing our improv skills! and writing this together! at the time of this introduction’s writing we have 14k words. it’s been two days. send help. the brainrot is very real and it is coming for us.

but anyways- here’s a little bit of background and information: the pov switches whenever there’s a little dash. like this. -. first it’s me, then eclair, and so on and so forth. this is just- well, i’d say jeanist on jeanist violence, but there’s no fight scenes yet, so… jeanist on jeanist kinda-sorta-maybe therapy?

i mean, this is called the interdimensional therapy au’ for a reason. but! back on topic. so basically my jeanist (will be referred to as s!jeanist, is 14-15 years old) and eclair’s jeanist (refered to as e!jeanist, around 20-22) both got hit by a quirk that yoinked both of them to e!jeanist’s place in paris. they are both from different universes. they have different backstories. they are different people, pulled from their place in the universe and into e!jeanist’s apartment…

…and then they just start talking because honestly this is an everyday thursday for both of them. mostly. kind of. s!jeanist is referred to as ‘arcane’ from e!jeanist’s pov. e!jeanist is referred to as ‘jean’ from s!jeanist’s pov. 

this is ALL the way self-indulgent and crack, just so you know. also kinda a character deep dive but lets not go into that. 

-

Well well well. ‘Tis me, Eclair, in bold! As all has already been said, this is a fun little self-indulgent crack au that honestly the brainrot has. Kinda. Taken over the entirety of brain already. Seriously, I have never written this much in such a short time span heheh….

Anyway- as it is quite literally named the Interdimensional Therapy AU, there may be some potentially triggering subjects that could pop up in the future, and I shall make sure to tag them and put up warnings before each part - please check the TWs before reading as always for your own safety and comfort!

No idea where this will go or how it’ll end up, but The Jeanists are here and they are going to have fun. Maybe. Kinda. Who knows what awaits them? I don’t think we do- but hey- if they don’t have fun, at least we will >:)

Oh. and at the time of finishing this introduction. We are now at just over 16k words. I think the brainrot is too strong…

-

we wrote our parts separately over the course of like, three, two hours? damm we might actually reach 20k today/tomorrow

oh yeah also these two are ‘divergent’ jeanists in the jean-multiverse. not alternate! theres a small difference lmao so it doesn’t matter, i am simply being Picky With Words

-

Please enjoy and look forward to it!! May we all try and find out how this will end up.

[softlittleheartsandsparkles]

So one of the babytalkers has blocked me. But just before they did, they told me there "Cg" is going to "talk to me" and "put me in my place" excuse me? My place? Actually EXCUSE you. bruh I'm a kawaii/anime blog. I reblog lolita fashion and larme kei. I'm unsure what place you think your "person" can put me in. :/ My blog is mine. Friendships or attempts come with boundaries. Communicate is like that. I'm not going to apologise for them, because I stated my discomfort and pointed out baby talk is ableism. (they got upset by the post) Baby talk is a big fucking no. It's a boundary. And while I don't cuss via dms, I'll do it on my page because I can. (and yes the person took issue with cussing saying it's taking them out of there 'babyspace', and seeing it on there dash is triggering them. Funny triggering you. I thought you didn't care about OTHER peoples comforts.) Your stepping into MY place. Pushing MY boundaries when it comes to communication. If your looking to baby talk with folks, find folks who are comfortable. There's so many on tumblr, and even more on discord. And I'd hate to say it, but inuyasha isn't for 'babies' so even the idea of 'but your blog is baby safe place' nawh not really. Inuyasha has violence. Witch hunter robin which I reblogged a while ago has violence, I reblog DB and DBZ which also has violence. (I mostly reblog bulma but still, the anime's she's from has violence.) I'm not a 'baby safe' blog. I wouldn't sit a baby down and be like 'here ya go, lets watch frieza fight goku." So please grow up, I'll be keen to tell this to your "CG" too. - ya'll wanna do lifestyle stuff? cool, don't do it in my dms, cause I'm not apart of it. I'm uncomfortable and I'm allowed to be. I'm also allowed to speak about my comforts. Your "cg" isn't meant to fix your messes. So fuck off the both of you.

[annesthaeticc]

just wanna share something with you~

okay, i wrote this right after 505, i was on a high of writing sherlock fanfics and i never got the chance to write it again, so i just thought, i might as well share a part to ya'll <3 i'll probably never pick it up again cause i have no idea how to continue it so yeah here ya go <3

Sherlock Holmes, your husband. The raven-haired consulting detective of 221B Baker Street. You smiled to yourself as you reveled in the fact that he is indeed your husband. Your love story was nothing but extraordinary, it was exhilarating and exciting, it kept you on your toes. Sherlock himself was unique and falling in love with him was easy enough. Sure, he exuded the charm that made your underwear burn just mere seconds after your first meeting, but goddamn he was arrogant, he was stubborn. You fell in love with him easily, but it was challenging for him to finally get his shit together and finally admit it to you that he feels the same.

Every day, you learn something about him. The first week of being together, you learned how he takes his tea; just a dash of milk and two sugars, always two sugars. Last week, you learned he’s quite particular with laundry; there’s a certain brand of detergent he uses with his undergarments and he knows it’s the best brand for his boxers and briefs because he tested the brands and this particular brand doesn’t irritate his intimates and it actually smells great (the detergent, you mean). Last night, you learned the pencils he uses has a certain grade, he only uses 2B pencils while composing. He’s very particular in almost everything, but when it comes it you, he wasn’t, he was almost always spontaneous.

Your first proper date was a masquerade ball, cliché yes, but by the end of the night he caught the cheating and murderous husband, and by the end of the night, the two of you shared a kiss by the door, with a promise to meet for another crime scene slash date. As your relationship with him endured time; you figured he wasn’t one for settling down; engagement, marriage, kids, a white picket-fenced house in the suburbs. And you were fine with it, you love him to the point you would stay, no matter what.

But how wrong you were when he suddenly slipped a ring on your ring finger of your left hand right after the two of you had sex on Valentine’s Day. The two of you didn’t mind much for celebrations but you came home that night to a bed full of roses. You gasped in surprise, clueless of what’s about to come (no pun intended). You were laying on his chest, basking in the afterglow when you felt the ring on your finger and his voice vibrate through his chest.

“I know people ask ‘Will you be my Valentine’ on this particular day, but you know me. I don’t observe and practice the formalities of the ordinary world. And asking you that question is a moot point, because you are my Valentine, we are each other’s Valentine.” he said and planted a kiss on your head. You looked up at him and stare at him in shock and in awe.

“What I’m trying to say is; be mine. Be my Valentine forever, please?” he said with such sincerity and love and you were all for him. And what was the point of saying no? It’s all but moot because you fucking love him.

“Honestly, Sherlock, you slipped the ring into my finger before you asked the question. I can’t say no anymore, can’t I?” you giggled and kissed him.

“Didn’t give you much of a choice. And I know you wouldn’t say no.” he smirked.

“And how do you know that?” you challenged him.

“Because you screamed yes and you’ll scream it again, that’s why.” he winked at you and all of a sudden you realized, with Sherlock as your husband, you would want nothing more, you had the world in your hands. Months later, the two of you were wed in a small chapel with all the trimmings. But it wasn’t a big celebration, only a few people were invited and Mycroft ensured the privacy of the celebration.

[unsettledink]

An interesting thread on comments and comment culture passed by on my dash, and for some reason it hooked me in. As usual, I started off wanting to say one thing and next thing I know, I'm 4k in with thoughts that everyone wants to hear. Right?

I left most of it on the post, talking about how comments used to be conversations, and how it never feels like people address the vulnerability of leaving a comment when they try and encourage more feedback.

I don't have answers. It's a cultural shift and how do things end up shifting again? Something big like a new platform or a radical change will probably have to appear before things go in a different direction, whatever it may be.

So no, I don't have an answer. I can say what helps me out, personally, when trying to remember why I want to go through the work of leaving a comment:

I write. I know from the other side what comments feel like. I remind myself of the excitement of seeing a notification pop up. (Obviously if you don't write, this doesn't help that much lol.)

Whatever I fear them judging me for, I can almost guarantee someone else has already judged me for something much worse. I mean, come on. I know the sort of things I write or rec.

I've done it enough I have a template in my head of how to write a comment. There are a few resources for that floating around that are good for getting started. Practice makes perfect.

Applying techniques from therapy. I'm not great at it, or have really internalized it, but at least aware that my fears are being egged on by anxiety, by past bad experiences, by the special hell of rejection sensitive dysphoria.

Easier said than done, especially on certain days, but just... running out of fucks to give. Like, oh my god self, so what if some author thinks I was too enthusiastic about their fic? What does it matter? They're just another random person on the internet, what are they going to do? Laugh at me? Then they're the one being a jackass, AND they don't get any more comments. Whatever.

And on that last one, if it's feeling impossible, like it'll never happen... holy shit this is going to sound condescending, but give it some time. Me from 10 years ago would have laughed at the idea of not caring what someone else thought. At some point, without me really noticing, I just could not care what some rando on the internet thought. It wasn't an active 'no I'm not going to care', it was 'wow I cannot find the energy to give a shit about you'. (But I can still find it to be mad when someone is Wrong on the Internet, so.)

I bring that up because every time I find out someone's age lately, I'm like, Jesus Christ. I forget how young fandom - esp tumblr - skews. Cause of course, I'm still young! It's not like I'm old, it's just that everyone is... younger... than... me. Wait. But for real, being in your late teens SUCKS. (Maybe you're lucky and they don't, but I doubt.) Being in your early 20's somehow sucks even more??? Being in your 20's period sucks. You couldn't pay me to be 20-anything again.

(Thinking of all the fandom people on here 20, 30 years older than me being like lol, you're still so freaking young :D )

Every comment I get these days I hoard like a dragon, and anytime I'm feeling crappy about writing or about some new thing being a bomb, I pull those suckers out and reread them for ages. I've got a whole doc just of tumblr comments, cause there's no other good way to find them again. if I'm really desperate, I go poke to see if there's any new bookmarks on my fic, in case they dropped a tag or put in a collection of favs or left a note of some sort (ya'll know authors can see those right?).

And I'd say I'm a pretty confident writer. I know I write a lot of niche stuff in tiny fandoms, so comparatively, I probably get a lot of comments. I have a moderately high opinion of my writing skills, so I'm mostly not sitting there going 'oh god I'm the worst writer ever', whereas I know that's the case for a LOT of fic writers. I'm mostly just sitting there like 'why didn't it hit the spot? why won't anyone say anything? I am so desperate to talk shop please anyone give me an excuse!!'.

So just... yeah. Throw an emoji at me. Throw a gif at me. Throw a novel that takes six comment boxes at me. Throw the exact same comment at fifteen different chapters/fics. I love it all.

(And hey. If you just lurk and read, it's okay. I get it. I still love you too.)

[palaceofpassion]

(Accept or throw this idea into a fire up to you~!)

Rainbow had been streaming for a fe minutes, up to her usual teasing scavenger hunt, fingering herself at the idea of being seen. Well, Spike hadn't been on Rainbow's stream, but his draconic ears had picked up on the Tomboy Pegasus' moans, finding her and 'winning' the game.

I'm going to answer this one, since I don't have any major order for these! But beware! It's dangerous for Spike to interact with any normal Mare without precautions, let this be a warning!

PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP

Being a dragon was a strange experience, at least whenever he spoke with his pony peers. There weren't many differences between him and the other's appearance wise. Short of his claws, tail, teeth, and a few scales he had here and there. But... if there was something that he could say he was better at, it was everything physically. From his strength, to his senses.

So! It wasn't odd for him to hear weird things every now and again. Today was no different, this time however, he'd chosen to follow his senses.

And when he did, he found himself being splattered on by an unknown liquid. Looking up, he could barely make out a lithe form floating just above him, a voice calling out. "Nnggh~ Almost there no one is here yeeeeettt~"

"Rainbow?"

"Huh?!"

Rainbow Dash couldn't believe it! Someone was calling out her name! "Well damn!"

She couldn't believe it! A fan had actually found her! And what do you know! It was Spikey! She wasn't even aware that he watched her streams, not that she minded, she knew she was super cool and all!

"Well well well! Looks like someone found me!" In a zip and a flash she was by his side before he even had the time to blink. Her Camera pulled up to her face with the chat log held on an extended device she had. "Look everyone~ It's my good ol friend Spikey Wikey~"

The name was an old call back to the way that Rarity used to refer to him, back when he was younger. Something Spike caught onto, though... his attention wasn't really on anything she was saying, rather more the fact that she wasn't wearing anything!

"Uh, Rainbow why..."

She didn't let him finish.

"Seeing as this awesome fan found me though~ I'm going to be showing him a good time! Ya'll take care!" She winked at the camera, turning it off and leaving her fans in suspense! What she didn't know, seeing as she never watched Spike's channel, was that she was now a public enemy!

That didn't matter for now, no what mattered was that she had to show Spike a good time! Which shouldn't be hard, considering that he was a virgin and all, so she thought. Though, that did bring up the dilema, if she went to far, she was sure she would be struck down by the heavens themselves. And it was like she was going down on her younger brother! She'd seen him grow up into a fine adult and everything!

Yet...

"Alright, pants down buster!"

"Excuse me? Rainbow what are yo-"

"Alright!"

She had no time, she had to be quick, before he could finish his question she struck. Her fingers looped around the bands of his pants, tugging downwards and taking his underwear with them.

"Huh... dragon's have slits... so like do you have a pussy or?"

Her question was answered as two serpentine like bulbs began to slither forward. Her eyes opened wide, shock covering her expression, because holy damn she'd never seen a cock... cocks like these before!

Before her were two red phalluses, towers looming above her blocking out Celestia's sun and leaving her in a horrified shade. Yet... it wasn't even the girth of the beasts that got to her.

It was something else, a reason that POnies weren't meant to be able to handle dragons. It was a powerful scent that left her mouth slightly open, and her tongue lazily hanging outwards, instinctively reaching for the promise land. Her pussy clenched down upon nothing, drooling uncontrollably as his male draconic pheromones disrupted her senses.

Dragons were a predatory species, they hunted they devoured, and they mated. And for a poor... poor non princess pony... it was too much.

She found herself worshiping his cocks, licking and kissing both members. Her hands reached around the hard red shafts, stroking them lovingly with enough force that Spike staggered a little. Before she knew it, her lips were around one of them, eyes rolling backwards as she attempted to choke herself on the thick rod. Yet she couldn't even get halfway down! She'd taken more than she could chew, and her womb was already going into overdrive!

Before she could even get Spike off properly she was cumming her brains out, spasming against his dicks. She clenched down but found herself bowling over, leaving Spike rather unsatisfied...

"Oh damn it, I bet she's not going to even remember this... you owe me dash!"

Spike, unsatisfied as he was, pulled her up and... "Damn it she doesn't even have clothes! And she's all sticky!" He was sorta glad he hadn't exploded on her, cause then he'd be touching his cum again and he didn't want that!

"WEll I'll take you home."

[wheeler-beretta-harwood]

You know this was coming sweet tits!

Oh I forget to mention in the questions but the majority of these all about my favorite story in the world meant to be 💚💜💙🧡❤️

1 Did your Cash Story idea just appear in your head or did you want to write a Cash story and than the idea came to you?

2 What does your planning/outline look like? And how long did you plan before beginning to write?

3 What has been your favorite part to write so far?

4 Will you be upset or happy when you post your last chapter?

5 How much do you relate to the main charter?

6 What part has been your least favorite to write so far?

7 when do you do the majority of your writing and where.

8 What was one of the most surprising things you learned about yourself while writing.

9 Any advice for people who want to start writing fanfiction or writers who want to improve their writing.

10. Do you have any ideas for your next story yet?

Okay, it is 6 am, Forbidden Door is tonight, and I am in Cash Mode (as usual)...I am REALLY excited to answer these!

1. To be honest, I can't really remember. Before I started writing, I've looked for Cash fanfics (I'm not sure if anyone has noticed yet, but I am a bit in love with the man), and there were...not many, even when I searched for Dash Wilder. Still, not a lot going on, and mostly smut. Then, "Weirdo" lived in my head for several weeks before I wrote it down. And I'm gonna tell you this now, everyone who likes Meant To Be (including myself) owes it to @elefrog25-blog. One of my first followers, the very first one to reblog, and the first one to ever leave a comment on my writing, for Weirdo. This encouraged me so much, because I thought 'Hey, maybe I'm not so bad after all. Maybe I should keep going.' And then came Meant To Be. I remember thinking there are not enough stories for him, so I decided to fill the void. It is always funny to me when some people say they like my Cash stories the most because, well, there are not many other options. You just have to live with what I come up with. 🤷🏼‍♀️

2. I'm gonna tell you a little secret. Before I started, I did an 'outline' that looked like this: 20 Chapters. (I wanted it to be long, but was afraid if I put a higher number, I'd get scared and just don't start writing.) 1-5: getting to know each other, relationship stuff (kiss, lovey dovey), 5-10: she becomes a part of the Pinnacle, is on TV, 10-15: something dramatic happens (not gonna tell you what, because I am still debating with myself if it'll happen or not), 15-20: happy ending, return to TV.

That's it. And I did not stick to it at all. It didn't make sense for the Reader to be in the Pinnacle, she never was a wrestler. I took way longer just for the first kiss. After that, I did no more outline... everything just lives in my head now. And I honestly think this is better. At least, for me.

3. The first chapter was a lot of fun because the whole time, I was like "Fuck Yeah, you're really doing it!" But I think the chapter I enjoyed writing most was the fifth, the one with the brother's suicide. Because that was the one where I thought I wanted this to not just be lovey dovey shit, I wanted this to be serious as well. With an actual story, not just "they were so in love, so they did this. Then they were even more in love, and did that". It was also the one chapter that was defining in a way because I didn't know if ya'll wanted potential drama. Luckily, you did. Noone sent me a nasty comment or anything.

4. I will be sooooooo upset. Meant To Be is all consuming for me. It lives in my head day and night. I sit at work and think about what could and should be. I lay in bed and think about it. I drive and think about it. I fear I'll feel empty once everything's said and done.

5. First chapter, that is me. 100%. Rock music, socially awkward, a loner, reading. That. Is. Me. And then it changed. I don't know how that went down, but it changed. She's bold, like I would've never kissed Cash first. He'd have to initiate it or it would've been the end of the story. No kiss ever.

That being said, I still throw a bit of myself in there. The book Cash gets for his birthday IS my favorite book. When they're in the mall, she drinks a milkshake because I love them. That kind of stuff is still me, and the readers might not notice these things, but I smile while writing them down. So no harm done, right?

6. Thirteen, the fight. Because the readers might have read that once and were a bit upset, but I have been fighting with Cash for a week in my head. Over and over again, until it made all sense and was leading into the direction I wanted it to. In the first version of the fight, reader didn't leave, they talked it out right there. Wasn't bad enough for my liking, so I started the fight in my head again. When I got to the point of writing it down, I was already exhausted.

Then, I am re-reading all my stuff a few times, tweaking it a bit if necessary. I did that here as well. Make Cash so angry he actually cries. Would any sane person react like this or that? No, it would be said like this (minor change, re-reading again.) Yes, better now. But bad enough yet?

That's what I'm doing...and the fight got to me.

7. I write most of my stuff really early or late at night. When it's early, I am sitting at the dining table to write, when it's late, I am in bed. That is for Meant To Be. For everything else: any place, any time. I have brought my tablet to work, and wrote in my 15 minute breaks. I'm sitting in our garden, watching our dogs goof around and something comes to my mind, I'll write it down on my phone. Anywhere, anytime.

8. As you know, best girl, I am kind of old and almost middle-aged, and I tend to forget things. Not for Meant To Be. I remember every detail. So I learned that me forgetting things is not because of my age, but because I am not invested enough. I simply don't care. Which is both relieving and quite disturbing. Mostly relieving though. Other than that, I don't think I have learned much about myself.

Oh no, wait, I have learned one more thing. I don't like to call wrestlers by their real name. I actually did that in the first one shot because I like it when other people do it. And then I felt weird about it. I don't know Daniel, I only ever get to see Cash. Even though I feel they are basically the same person, I just don't know for sure. So I write for Cash. Not Daniel. Even though Cash is a strange name and you can't have any progress with it. (Just imagine meeting Daniel, who becomes Dan over time because you get to know and like him, and then he turns into Danny when it's just the two of you...I love that kind of storytelling. And I can't do it with 'Cash')

9. Just start writing. Start with one shots because they are easier, less planning or backreferencing. Just some fun short stories. I'm not sure how other people do it, but I daydream a lot. That's where the ideas come from, but if you can't think of anything, use prompt lists if you need inspiration. I haven't used any (I'm not sure if it is the right thing for me), but some are really amazing. Write for characters you know and like, it makes everything easier and your writing will be better for them. Don't push yourself too hard. If you're stuck, you're stuck. Take a break, because nothing great will come out of it when you have to force it. Ask your favorite writers for advice, they are nice people and happy to support, at least that was the case when I asked for help. Oh, and read your stuff before you post it, because sometimes it sounded good in your head, but it does not 'on paper'.

For longer stories...know your shit, but don't try to write a biography for the wrestler you want to write for. And interlink your chapters, do some foreshadowing, bring back little details when they make sense.

Let me try to explain the first part a little better. I think Meant To Be works for me, because I have watched and read almost every interview with Cash there is. I just know little random facts about him. And I am one petty bitch. Like when his brother called him in Chapter 13, I was almost 100% sure he has a brother called James, and he calls him Jay. He mentioned that in his podcast with Renée. But I wasn't totally certain. So I looked it up again, found the bit where he talked about him. Turns out I was right, but I needed to know for sure. I don't even know if anyone notices these things, but they matter to me. But, I am not part of his life, so I only know what he let's us fans know.

Do I know that his stepfather was an ass and he basically ran away from home? Yes, because he said that.

Do I know if there was any domestic violence? No, because he didn't say that. That is my 'artistic freedom'. It makes sense to me, so I wrote it.

(Edit: I'd also like to say, because that is one thing someone has complained about. In my opinion, the book club meetings are not OOC, Cash said in UpUpDownDown that he loved reading as a kid, and is a Harry Potter fan. So I don't think it's out of place. Extra Bonus for me: he also said that he had read 'A Tale of Two Cities' and enjoyed it. Which is the book the reader has in chapter 1. So joke's on you, anon, whoever you are. 😏)

10. For one shots? Yes. Many. For a longer story? No. And I am not sure if there will be another multi chapter story. Ever. Because I know no one else as well as Cash. Kenny might be my number 2, but I have no desire for writing a longer story about him. Maybe Trent, but I do not know enough about him (yet). But there isn't any story planned in the near future. It's just Meant To Be right now.

[lorieninksong]

Hey not to be rude but, are you okay? Some tags on your reblogs got me worried about you.

(stumbled across your blog bc someone rb u and then I began scrolling and kind of forgot I wasn’t on my dash until I noticed the tags)

You don’t have to tell me what’s going on (unless you really want to) I just want to know if you’re safe and if you have people around you who can help maybe?

(You can totally ignore this ask if it makes you uncomfortable, I’m just genuinely worried eventhough I don’t know you)

Thanks for checking in on me, it means a lot to me. To be honest I'm not okay, I'm not sure its a good idea to talk to it online, but I am working very hard to get myself to a safe place. I've reached out for support because that's a thing in the UK, and have several social workers and mental health professionals trying to help me through this. When I feel more certain about what I can and can't talk about I may ask for help/support publicly honestly. There's always another website or organization and I can't find/know all of them. Also thanks in general tumblr peeps for being patient with my stuff. I'm really grateful that instead of being quietly unfollowed that ya'll tolerated it, and even check on me sometimes. You're good eggs.