#okay anon it is done

[writingbyshiloh]

En Français S.V.P.

AN: I’m Canadian so forgive me if this is more Quebec French than European French. My French isn’t that great (B level) so if something is wrong pls forgive me.

WC: 0.4k

You fiddle with the clasp of your necklace behind your back. The restaurant is new to you, but Vincent insisted that you would like it, due to the daring food pairings. 

But you were excited for a different reason. Slowly, you were learning French, wanting to communicate with your boyfriend in his mother tongue, but also the city around you. You just didn't tell the Marquis, wanting to keep it a surprise. If he knew what you were learning he would get you the best tutors, but also make your studies his newest obsession, guiding you on how he thinks you should learn, not how you best do. 

“Mon amour? Are you ready?” his voice became clearer as he pushed open the heavy door.

Mon amour was an easy one to translate, meaning my love. 

“Non. J’ai besoin du cinq minute additional." (No. I need five more minutes) your voice was clear, but some of the pronunciations were clunky in your mouth, home accent coming through, all while you tried to suppress a smile. 

Your suspicion was right. He pulled you from your chair into his arms, delighted with your surprise. At least that's what you assume he's saying but his French was too fast for you to understand except for the fondness seeping into his tone. 

“How long have you been studying?” He says. You envy how eloquently he can switch from one language to another. 

You shrug your shoulders, leaning into his arm wrapped around your waist. 

“I only know a bit. I can order in French though.” 

“What else can you say?” 

You pause for a second to construct a sentence in your head. It's not one of the ones you practiced but hopefully, it works. 

“Je suis excité, euh, pour le dîner ce soir.” (I’m excited, uh, for dinner tonight) you offer up.

His lips twitch slightly as if trying to tone down his smile.

“Le dîner? (the dinner)” he clarifies. 

“Oui?” you frown, trying to figure out if you used the wrong word for dinner. 

“Ou après?” (or after). 

You quietly repeat the words after him. His hand slowly dips below the small of your waist. 

“Je suis excité is I am excited.” he informs you. 

“I know.”

“Sexually excited.” His gaze is intense, almost predatory as he watches you understand your grammar mistake. 

That’s one French lesson you won’t forget soon. 

[kiksniko]

they were not let off easily btw

[markscherz]

Oh you like frogs? Name every frog then

Current tally: 90 (1.18% of all described frogs)

[i-am-church-the-cat]

logan's pov on the soulmate au? 👀🙏

😌🕶️🤏🏼😎

--

Logan had grown up dreading meeting his soulmate. His parents were soulmates and had gotten married less than a year after they met. Dalton didn't have a soulmark and his parents always treated it like it was some tragedy. They always told Logan that the day he met his soulmate would be the happiest of his life, that he would fall in love with her immediately and never want to be with anyone else.

That was a problem for two reasons. 1) he didn't think he liked girls enough to want to be around one all the time. And 2) he was always moving around and leaving for karting. Racing was his true love, he didn't have time for a soulmate on top of that.

Despite all of that, his parents hadn't been entirely wrong. Logan knew immediately when he met his soulmate (who was a boy and not a girl, just like he had told them) but he didn't feel any differently about him than he did any of his other friends.

As they got older and got closer, Logan realized how important Oscar really was to him. He'd never had anyone that he could count on to always be there for him. Oscar was that person for him, and he clung onto him like a lifeline. He's glad Oscar didn't seem to mind.

They got older though and Logan got a bit more independent. The day that his parents would claim to be the worst day of his life wasn't actually that bad.

"I think I want to ask Lily out," Oscar said, looking seriously into the phone screen.

"Lily Zneimer? Your classmate?" Logan asks, looking up from the homework they were doing. Though Oscar and Logan were close, Oscar went to a different school in a different town. It wouldn't take long to get there but since they saw each other most weekends anyway, they didn't bother. "That sounds good, dude, what's the issue?" He asks, cause he could feel that something was bothering Oscar.

"You wouldn't be mad?" The younger boy asked, looking worried.

Logan paused and thought about it. Everything his parents told him tells him he should be mad. But he isn't. If Oscar likes a girl, he should ask her out. Logan wants him to be happy. And the little place in the back of his head that is distinctly Oscar tells him that nothing would ever take the other boy away from him. Logan didn't have to worry about being left behind when it came to Oscar.

"Of course not. If you like her, go for it."

He felt and saw Oscar relax and the younger boy gave him a small smile through the screen. "You know, you can date someone, too, if you want."

"Yeah maybe," Logan says, shrugging the idea off. Over the last couple of years Logan has realized he doesn't have the desire to date and fall in love like the rest of his classmates do, like Oscar does. He wants to be loved and accepted by his friends and family, he wants to race and be the best that he can. He doesn't need another person to do that with, though.

Logan haltingly tries to explain this to Oscar but the boy stops him.

"I get it, mate, I can feel you, too, you know? If you don't ever want to date anybody, that's cool."

Logan gives his friend and soulmate a smile, falling into the easy acceptance that has always been a part of their relationship.

"Well, when you and Lily get married and have tons of kids, I'll be the fun uncle with 3 dogs and a yacht."

"Shut up, Logan," Oscar says, blushing bright red. Logan can't help but laugh at him.

--

"Logan can you get the bread out of the oven, please?" Lily asks as soon as she hears him walk through the door.

"Yes ma'am," Logan says, dropping a kiss on Lily's cheek as he walks by, grabbing the oven mitts where he knows they'll be. It's been a year since Lily and Oscar got this apartment together and between races and sleepovers, Logan feels like he's here more than his own apartment.

"You're late," Oscar says, coming in from the balcony where he was taking a call. Logan just smiles at him, the same smile Oscar always says makes him look like a puppy. Oscar shakes his head and leans down to kiss Lily before slapping Logan on the shoulder in greeting.

"How has your day been, Lo?" Lily asks, moving things around on the table to make space for the bread tray.

"It was good, Elias and I spent most of it training." Oscar shudders at the mention of physical exercise during the off-season and Logan laughs.

They sit down to eat, Oscar and Lily on one side and Logan on the other, and Logan listens as Lily talks about her newest project at work. Despite being around engineers all day, most of it goes over his head, and he can tell it goes over Oscar's too. Still, he's got experience at this point, and knows when to ask all the right questions.

After dinner, Oscar and Lily end up bickering over the dishes, Logan as a "guest" being relegated to the couch. He watches in amusement at the fight, the warm feeling of acceptance and domesticity washing over him.

His parents haven't stopped nagging him about getting a boyfriend and Dalton still tries to set him up every time he's in town. But really, this is all Logan needs.

[andorerso]

excuse me he asked for no pickles

[hella1975]

hiiii haha. hello. exceptionally awkward introduction bc idrk how to start something like this so let's just jump right in. im taking a break from this account for a bit. i know i said i wanted taob out before halloween and currently im fine sticking with that deadline, but if i decide i need longer away then i will take longer away. every time ive reassured people that id never abandon a fic and updates will always come eventually i never once considered that my writing and ability to feel safe and comfortable on this site would be actively taken from me, so im not even going to apologise. i dont want this either and more importantly i dont fucking deserve it. i dont know what it is in the past year, if ive hit a certain amount of followers or 'popularity' that's made it so the natural ratio of positive to negative interactions must in turn go up, but there's been a serious uptick in weird asks for me. the annoying part is that a very small amount of them are actually objectively mean and hateful, the rest are just weird and invasive from people who seemingly dont realise that's what they're being. ive reached a point where i dont care if the intentions are good. it's not my job as a 20 year old tumblr user of all things to defend the morality of someone who couldnt even bother to come off anon. unfortunately, after blocking only one or two anons, the weird asks have decreased substantially, which says all you need to know about the fascinating and exhilarating lives led by these people, but ive also gone on to turn anon asks off entirely. this is something i actively fought against doing and had to be pushed into by my mutuals (who have been the coolest people on planet earth during this entire thing). turning off anon was a big deal to me even if it sounds silly. i felt betrayed and like id been backed into a corner because it was so vehmently something i DIDNT WANT that to feel like i had to do it anyway for my own mental health??? that sucks. so even though ive 'fixed' the problem, im still kind of reeling and uncomfortable every time i come on tumblr. i hope it's just something i need time to ease because i'll truly be devastated if this becomes 'ruined' for me. tumblr exists as the only place in the world where i am honestly every facet of myself without shame or hesitation; losing that would be insanely harmful to me. and to the people who cant appeal to the actual human behind the post, let me put that in words you can understand: we wouldn't get any more writing 😦😦😦 riots and fires and sirens, i know. so yeah. to anyone who has sent me an anon ask and you're now wondering if you were part of the problem, im firmly of the belief that you'll know if you are. when i say 'weird asks' i dont mean 'you sent me a para about your personal life just to vent or ask for advice' or 'you sent me a really deep emotional compliment about the impact me and/or my writing has had on you' - i love asks like that, so much that i put off taking a break and turning off anon solely for the joy they bring me. im sorry that it might feel like you're being punished too bc of the actions of what in reality is a HANDFUL of weird people, but this is what i feel like i have to do to feel safe and not go insane every time i log in. love you guys, hopefully ill see you soon x

[genericpuff]

Hope you don't mind my asking but do you mind elaborating on why you don't like Mongie too much? I know all about why everyone dislikes Let's Play itself. There are various videos and post upon post online tearing it to shreds with criticism but I've not heard much about the creator herself like I do Rachel Smythe. Does she also run into the same issues that Rachel does or is her behavior different but equally questionable/annoying?

It's kinda equally questionable, kinda different. They both have the same issues of like, fetishizing youthfulness and creating unhealthy power dynamics. They also haven't done a great job at depicting POC in their comics, you can tell they're written by white women who don't understand other cultures but are trying to make their series more "progressive" by including stand-ins for representation.

That said, considering Let's Play is set in a real world setting, the POC characters (and the casually racist issues in their writing) are a lot more obvious than in LO (where you have to know the context that the neon-colored nymphs are based on POC to really realize that they're lower class POC people who are getting the shit end of the stick from the rich upper class main protagonists).

And I don't even mean in the usual "there aren't any POC in this comic" or "the POC in this comic are stereotypical/poorly written", I mean in the sort of white-victim-complex "I added in other ethnicities and people got mad at me anyways so what more do you want!" kind of way (paired with the "they're poorly written and stereotypical" aspect).

Dean is a good example of the stereotypical designing and writing, IIRC he's a Hispanic man but he's written like some Spanish soap opera character who flirts with every woman he sees and always has rose petals falling around him.

Even in that sentence he says "part Asian" which is weird because he's looking for Marshall who's supposed to be his best friend and it's been established in the comic that Marshall is half-Japanese, but that brings us to the other instance of mongie being casually (if not directly) racist and even more so than with Dean...

Apparently mongie thought it was a good move to say that it was "more inclusive" to make Vikki only vaguely Asian. Which is just... so not true LOL Asia is an entire continent made up of MANY different cultures and ethnicities and so generalizing all of them to just "Asian" is not a great take from someone who's trying to seem "more inclusive".

But of course, when her community called her out on this and asked her to elaborate, she and her mod team basically dug their heels in and made up excuses that made mongie out to be a victim instead of just acknowledging she made an error that didn't connect well with members of her audience.

And theeen in comes mongie ready to torch the place. Note that up until this point, it's basically been her mod team speaking up on her behalf and giving her benefit of the doubt, so when mongie DID get her chance to speak, she jumped right to:

"FINE, SHE'S HALF CHINESE HALF KOREAN THEN, STFU AND STOP ANALYZING ME WHEN I INCLUDE CHARACTERS FROM RACES THAT DON'T ALIGN WITH MY OWN !!!" (╯‵□′)╯︵┻━┻ is very much the vibe people got from this, understandably so. It's also odd (and extremely privileged) for her to say that she'd "rather focus on a character's personality and not their race" because it's very "I don't see color" which has been proven to be counterintuitive to understanding and celebrating different races.

And then we get a lot of self-victimizing "well I can't win no matter what so you people are ungrateful and actually it's MY feelings that are hurt" excuses:

Again it's weird because she had NO problem specifying that Marshall was half-Japanese and she didn't make him into any sort of weird stereotype like she did with Vikki. So I don't know why she's having such a hard time grasping that being vaguely Asian for Vikki isn't inclusive.

Although, let's be real here, the only reason Marshall is half-Japanese at all is because he's a self-insert of Markiplier, a half-Korean Youtuber who mongie apparently worked for on payroll as a graphic designer prior to Let's Play. Which is just a whole layer of ick that I think surpasses even Rachel Smythe and Mads Mikkelson. Like the Rachel and Mads thing is definitely creepy and weird because she's literally drawn herself - an adult woman nearing her 40's - being swept off her feet by a smoochy-faced Mads. But at least she didn't work for the guy or ever interact with him directly like mongie did with Markiplier. That's a whole separate level of "ew".

That said, mongie continues:

Which is just such a half-assed non-apology. Not "I'm sorry for misrepresenting a culture" or "I'm sorry I didn't do proper research", but "I'm sorry people think I'm being insensitive or that they need specific representation in my work that I'm claiming to be representation to be good". Completely shifting the blame from herself onto her audience for not being happy with the bare minimum that she gave them.

There's more though. Probably one of the worst parts and it's not even her, but one of her mods:

The fact that this is one of mongie's mods telling mongie's audience that her feelings - as a white woman who's just legitimately patronized her audience - are more valid than the people whose feelings were hurt by mongie being so insensitive... it's a real gross move and I can't believe they even pulled that.

Oh, and of course, as people like this tend to do, she goes on about "cancel culture" and how "terrifying" it is to her and then comes up with some imaginary scenario where a kid pays a hitman to kill her ?? as a defense for herself that really just further victimizes herself over her own misled actions ??

And this is something mongie does a lot, at least in this instance - she comes up with justifications for her decisions based on completely imaginary scenarios that she came up with and assumed, rather than just, idk, doing her research and being open to learning new things about cultures she's clearly not educated on. Shit like "well if I do xyz you'll be mad at me anyways so fuck you!"

When in reality? No one would have been mad at her if she didn't have any non-white characters in her comic. Would readers be disappointed? Probably. But - and I can't speak for everybody out there obviously so this is just my opinion - I know I'd much rather representation from someone who wanted to represent my respective groups and identities and put love and effort into it, than get it from someone who was just doing it because they made up a scenario in their head that they would be cancelled for not doing it. No one really has any tangible ground to stand on if they get mad at you for writing a cast of all-white characters you wanted to write, there are plenty of webtoons like that on the platform. We do need more stories that uplift and represent POC voices, but it shouldn't be from white victim complex people who only do it to virtue signal and ensure they don't get "cancelled". You know what WILL get you cancelled? Attempting to write other ethnicities and racial groups purely based on stereotypes for the sake of "representation" and then getting mad when people ask you to be a little more specific than "Asian".

Oh yeah, and then have your mods censor/delete any mentioning of educational resources regarding Asian cultures, and then essentially dox one of your community members by revealing their Twitter to the entire Discord group to boot!

oh boy mongie, if you think THAT'S drama, wait until you see the shit I do here LMAO

[zombified-queer]

Hi besties. Hotelpod cw masterlist is done. Here's the link (x).

[anantaru]

you're done give me your phone yoru

stacking pineapple rings up on heizou's cock as we speak

[somaticmilk]

Behold.. REN MILK FIC PT 2

Here’s the first part if you wanna make it weird ->

Just a FYI - I didn’t remember where I left off before I’m too ashamed to have continuity so SHUT UP AND TAKE IT.

(also originally it was implied that Ren was like drugged with Sildenafil or smth like that at one point but ig I forgot-)

Fic under cut - Soma was not responsible for any of this - I am ashamed - ALSO DONT HAVE A MILK KINK.

Ren woke up with an intense feeling of heat and a growing pain in his crotch. As he looks around, he remembers he is still tied up and completely naked. He noticed his captor was standing on the other side of the barn. Strade watched in awe as his cute little cow was slowly giving up, he went hard just by the idea of his sanity breaking.

"Morgen meine süße Buttermilch, you ready for today?" Strade’s words were like lukewarm beer laced with honey.. Gross.. - Ren cringed at the idea of submitting to his captor like this, even if someone were to find him, how would they take him seriously in this shape? Tied up, cock cage, and covered in dirt - No shit someone would mistake him as livestock.

Strade approached Ren and placed a large metal bit in his mouth. It was cold against his tongue and restricted the airflow from his mouth. Before he knew it the door of his pen was opened and he was being dragged to a different section of the barn. Despite the burning embarrassment of crawling on all fours, the sun on his skin felt nice. His stomach reathed and his joints were still stiff from the stall. With every step he took, he could feel little rocks and pebbles lodged between his fingers and toes, his face burning red with each passing minute.

Ren had never been more humiliated in his life. From being forced to act like a cow, all the verbal teasing, and being forced into a cramped inhumanization stall, it was all too much.

- - - -

Once they made it to the milking parlor Ren knew his fate was sealed. The beastkin saw a mirror behind where Strade was standing before and below it was a large metal machine. Strade then removed the chastity cage and gave a brisk hit to his half-hard cock to make sure no dirt on it.

(clean milk guys - clean milk ^3^)

The German then placed a foreign object onto his dick. Ren looked at Strade, who nodded after seeing the realization in Ren's eyes. Now waiting in anticipation, he could probably cum without any sensation, the drugs Strade put him on were strong. At this point, Ren just wanted friction, something, anything.. Strade placed a large, girthy dildo on the machine and set it up. But before turning it on, he turned to Ren's ass.

Ren tried his best to hide his face as if it would take him away from his humiliating situation. He almost believed it until he felt hands grabbing at his backside. Not only did the fondling reignite the fire in his rear, but also the fire in his face. Strade began to place his fingers in, stretching him out with a sloppy and heavy hand. He continued doing this, adding up to 3 fingers until he was satisfied.

“You have such a nice ass, Buttermilch” Strade teased as he continued to grope at the Beastkin’s flesh. “It's so round, soft, and perky!”

“S-Shut up!” Ren yelled back, making a pathetic attempt to intimate him. This only caused Strade to lightly swat at his ass, making Ren yelp. “That’s not the sound cows make, Schatz” he scolded. “Mmmf owfff!!” Even with the gag on, Strade knew that Ren had just told him to fuck off.

Without warning the German farmer then picked up Ren and strapped him down into the machine. The device already attached to his dick finally made sense to him now, it was a pump. Lifting his tail and hooking his throbbing cock into the milking unit, Strade walked to the other side of the parlor and removed his boxers. He then sat down and smiled.

"Aufgeregt, meine Liebe?” Ren felt a spray of lube on his cock and in his ass. In an instant, the dildo began thrusting in and out. It was painful at first. Too painful. The milker began to slide up and down, twisting and turning.

The sensation was a lot at first. There was a lot of friction between his anus and the large dildo as it slid in and out, due to the lack of lube and the sheer size of the thing. Ren didn't know how deep the dildo was but it had to be at least 8 inches. The howl Ren let out was inhuman as he was instantly stretched out and stuffed. The pump jerking him off got even rougher and faster, the feeling of hot pleasure building in his stomach ready to burst.

Ren was practically screaming while his asshole was getting completely ruined. Ren shook his head vehemently, his cock twitching in the pump. Meanwhile, Strade was jacking off to his display.

He picked up a remote and pressed a button. The pump started to engulf and pull away at the tip. His cock was enveloped in a warm comfort that made him feel like a knot tied in his stomach.

His moans were stifled but loud as the speed of the intake of the pump slowly increased and the dildo slammed harder into Ren’s prostate. Although he clenched his jaw around the bit to try and hide them, soft moans came out of Ren’s mouth, exciting Strade all the more.

Ren’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he was simultaneously filled to the brim and brought to orgasm. He came into the pump and he began to pant, cum spilling out and taken through a tube.

Ren’s vision blurred, his heart beating through his ears before feeling a wet squirt of liquid inside of him. He then realized that the two were connected and his cum was inside of him and being used as lube.

This sudden realization made him fucking nauseous. His vision spotted and he could feel himself gag, although, his boner didn’t give in just yet. Not even within a minute Ren was close again and came into the milker. The seed yet again absorbed and sent into his ass.

Ren shrieked and bawled with an exhibit of extreme pain and shame on his face. Ren had hot tears running down his red cheeks, and his lip quivered slightly. Strade then walked toward the exit of the parlor door before taking a final glance at his cow.

"You look wonderful, Mein Liebling," he said as Strade grabbed the remote and turned everything onto the highest settings. There was a security camera at the ceiling so he knew that his new piece of livestock wouldn’t do anything too feral but he couldn't just keep this showcase all to himself.

The vibrations became more frequent and intense. The pump was taking his cock up and down at an extremely fast pace. It twisted around his sensitive head which began to hurt. He was sent into a state of intense pleasure and overstimulation. He couldn't handle this for longer. The machine never stopped though. The constant abuse made his ass sting like fire. He was cumming less and less each time which meant less and less lubricant.

A while later, Strade entered the parlor again. He instantly turned everything off before walking to Ren and taking the bit off. "How was it?" he asked as he began unbuckling his arms and legs off of the machine.

Ren took a deep breath and ignored the question. While taking off the pump part of the milker, Strade accidentally grazed Ren’s dick. His tip was red, swollen, and extremely irritated. Ren let out a long, exhausted whimper…

-

I BE LIKE DUHH DUHHHHH - WHY YOU SOO FINEE

Lmk if you want more idk - #talkingfromtheheart

Soma milk fic pt three ??? 😰😰😰🫶🫶

[piratekane]

2

two: it’s okay to not be okay sometimes

Consciousness comes slowly, like the long beams of sunshine stretching their way across the bed and her face. It feels like warm fingers brushing over her forehead, coaxing her awake. A new day, new possibilities. She can be anyone she wants to be when she opens her eyes.

"Bea," Ava sings from the doorway.

She smiles, rolls over and presses her face into a pillow that still smells like Ava's shampoo. Today, she will be Beatrice.

The bed dips as Ava sits down, her bare thigh warm against Beatrice's bare arm. "It's late."

She turns her head, nose brushing against Ava's hip. "It's hardly past eight."

There's a moment before Ava breathes out a laugh. "How do you even know that?"

She doesn't. It was a good guess. But she's not going to let Ava think otherwise. So she rolls away a bit, just enough to see the soft tangle of Ava's hair where it rests against her smile, and she lets her eyes close again. There's a laugh, a sigh, and then a finger slowly walking from her forehead down over the ridge of her nose and off the cliff of her bottom lip.

Ava sings again. "Beatrice."

~

Beatrice opens her eyes. The room has shifted. The sun is higher in the sky now, the room a little hotter with it. Ava is standing at the window now, cradling a cup of something that smells warm. She looks back over her shoulder at Beatrice, a smile on her face.

"It's late."

Beatrice sits up, blinking. "I didn't mean to sleep so late."

Ava shushes her gently as she sets the mug down on the small nightstand. "You needed the rest. You've been working so hard." She sits at the edge of the bed, just out of reach. "Too hard."

"Not hard enough." Beatrice reaches for Ava, breathes easier when Ava slides into her hands like water into a glass. Ava doesn't say anything when Beatrice's grip tightens, when the space between them goes from paper-thin to nothing. "I'm going to work harder."

"Bea." Ava's hand brushes away her hair, fingers tickling her neck. "How much harder can you work?"

For you? Bea doesn't ask the question. She doesn't need to. Ava's fingers pause against her pulse and she feels her own heartbeat echoed in Ava's fingertips.

Ava keeps running long fingers through her hair, scratching at the sensitive skin behind her ear, murmuring her name over and over again until Bea can't distinguish one sound to the next. Her eyes close slowly, a heaviness drifting over her like a warm blanket in winter. She curls under its weight.

~

Beatrice opens her eyes. The sun is starting to set. Ava is sitting up in bed next to her, a book open in her lap. She's mouthing the words as she reads them, soundless as she goes over each one. Beatrice watches for her a moment, enraptured by the way Ava's forehead wrinkles as she stumbles upon a word that doesn't come easily.

She reaches up to brush the wrinkle away and Ava turns to her with a smile.

"It's late."

Beatrice blinks at the worlds stored in Ava's eyes, rings of honeyed color that shine back at her. "I was going to get up."

Ava waves her off. "You deserve a lazy day in. You don't take enough of them."

A tidal wave of affection threatens to drown her. "We can't all afford your amount of 'lazy days.'"

"You're not trying hard enough, then." Ava winks at her before her face softens. "Besides, this is not a true 'lazy day'. You're in far too many clothes."

The laugh that escapes her surprises her. She nearly stuffs it back down. But Ava seems pleased by it and so she lets it exist between them, huffing after a moment and burying her head into Ava's side. Fingers work over the side of her head, brushing against the shell of her ear. She resists the urge to shiver, afraid to dislodge Ava even a millimeter.

"Ava," she starts.

Ava shushes her kindly. "No, Bea. You deserve this. Here, listen." She props her book up with one hand, the other still working its way along Beatrice's skin. "I'm reading Le Petit Prince. See, I can do it. Lorsque j’avais six ans j’ai vu," she starts, mouth clumsy over the words.

Beatrice breathes in the sounds of a language she's never found to be romantic before and lets her eyes close as Ava's voice settles over her. She slings an arm across Ava's hip, hoping to anchor them both to the bed.

~

Beatrice opens her eyes. Night has fallen now, the sky dotted with stars like a black piece of paper dotted by a pinprick. She's stretched across the mattress like she's swimming to shore, but her shore is standing across the room, back to the bed and her hair blowing in the light breeze coming through their open bedroom window.

"Ava," she says, voice raspy.

Ava turns, a smile on her face. "It's late."

"I'm sorry." She pushes up onto her elbows. The moonlight hits Ava's skin. She seems ethereal. Beatrice stretches out her hand and Ava comes to it like a lightning lure, moving without hesitation. "I had plans to get up."

Ava shushes her. Her body molds into the space Beatrice's left behind. She pulls up her legs, leaning into Beatrice. "You're tired."

It's not a question. And Beatrice can't deny that she isn't. Things have been so heavy lately, like weights tied around her ankles. She can't move without monumental effort. She can't get ahead. Each day she falls further behind. Each day the mountain stretches impossibly higher.

"Ava," she tries.

Ava coos at her, pulls Beatrice around until they're sitting back against the headboard. Ava wraps her arms around Beatrice's shoulders, holding her close. She feels her heart beating through her back, their rhythms syncing easily. It's always been so easy with Ava.

"It's okay to not be okay sometimes," Ava whispers into her hair, the words a whisper in their empty bedroom.

Beatrice feels each muscle group contract and release, a series of steps she takes to ground herself. "I can't do this without you," she whispers back.

The truth is staggering. She hasn't spoken it before now. Years without Ava - miles logged and memories built and routines established - have done nothing to prepare her for the years without Ava that would come after.

Ava hums quietly, her fingers working in complicated patterns along Beatrice's bare arms. "You're not," she finally says.

Beatrice fights back the huff of indignation. "Then where are you?"

She doesn't want to doubt. She's a believer, she always has been. Her faith may have shifted, but her belief never has. Still, it's been so long, she's starting to see Ava in hazy half-memories that fade by morning. Her voice becomes a whisper, her touch more like a dream.

Time is moving forward and Ava is stuck somewhere in her past, becoming more of a thought than something she can hold in her hands.

"I'm here, Bea. I promise I always will be."

Beatrice shakes her head, hot tears stinging the corners of her eyes. She blinks them back, unwilling to taint this moment with that much grief. "I need you here. I'm so- I'm so tired, Ava."

Ava's lips press against her hair, her temple, her forehead as Ava gently tugs her around. "Then let yourself rest, Beatrice. Let your body rest." She taps Beatrice's forehead with a light finger, mouth quirked in one corner. "Let this rest, too."

Beatrice's throat is dry. "How do I rest without you?"

"You don't." Ava smooths a hand down the side of her face. "You let me rest with you." She shimmies down the headboard until she's lying next to Beatrice. Her hands pulls until Beatrice is tight against her body, her arm slung low across Ava's waist. "I'll be here, every time you close your eyes. You just have to look for me."

I'm looking in every corner and coming up empty. She doesn't say it. Ava hums softly into her hair, her fingertips ghosting up and down Beatrice's arm in a melody that Beatrice can't quite grab.

She can't quite grab Ava, can't quite make her stay.

But Ava keeps murmuring in her ear, keeps running her fingers across her skin, keeps her heart beating steadily under Beatrice's ear. Her eyes droop closed and peace washes over her like the warm light of the Halo she hasn't seen in what feels like three lifetimes.

She hears Ava's voice whispering her name as she falls asleep.

~

Consciousness comes slowly, like the long beams of sunshine stretching their way across the bed and her face. It feels like warm fingers brushing over her forehead, coaxing her awake. A new day, new possibilities. She can be anyone she wants to be when she opens her eyes.

"Bea," Ava sings from the doorway.

Beatrice smiles.

[blindmagdalena]

Question: Homelander response to an overprotective gf? Like she has no powers but she would still stand between him and anyone. Butcher, Soldier Boy she don't care get the fuck away from her man?

she's probably going to give him an aneurism.

Homelander taking you by the shoulders in pure frustration and gritting out through his teeth, "You can't protect me! You can't! Do you understand what any one of those fuckers could do to you?" Whether to emphasize his point or just out of sheer desperation, he's squeezing harder and harder. "Homelander-"

"They're not the good guys! I am! I'm the only one who gives a fuck about what happens to you. If they believed it would so much as inconvenience me, they would kill you. It would be easy. Do you understand?" "I-" He cuts you off with a sharp little shake. "Tell me you understand!"

"I understand!" You snap right back, matching both his tone and volume. It's enough to bring him back to reality, the boom of your voice shocking him. His grip on you instantly loosens, but he doesn't let go.

"I know that! Do you think I'm an idiot?" You ask, as frustrated as he is. "You think it's any easier for me? You're the one they're obsessed with killing! I don't care how indestructible you are. It scares me to death!"

The air between you feels thin, the silence loud. You're breathing heavily, he's watching you, his expression pulled six different ways. He wants to be angry still, to be carried by that conviction, but the wind is gone from his sails.

"I need you to be safe," Homelander says quietly. There's a woundedness in his voice that guts you, stealing away your own righteous flare of anger.

Your shoulders sag. "Me too." Tentatively, he pulls you in. You don't resist; quite the opposite. You wrap your arms around him and sink bodily against him, closing your eyes with a deep sigh. His grip on you is firm, but gentle. Your shoulders are already sore from where he'd gripped you. His touches are overly ginger now, slow sweeps of his hands. "Just..." You squeeze him, and in that alone, you feel the weakness of your arms. Holding him close, keeping him safe, feels like trying to envelop a star, or contain the ocean in your hands. A Sisyphean task. "Please don't go where I can't follow." "Okay," he says, voice soft. You think he's still reeling from the way you raised your voice. He kisses the top of your head. By the way he holds you, you know neither of you will be apart any time soon. Perhaps he finally understands how serious you really are.

[raviollies]

this might be silly question but ive missed some lore i think… how does lorelai fit in to the blythe/raha situation? i feel like ive never seen her around before so idk her place in things

She is not part of the relationship (As she is a Lesbian), but she travelled with Raha prior to Blythe meeting them (Both of them have very different story arcs that tie up neatly with a little bow with their dynamic - that and I wanted something FEEL GOOD OKAY). She has a separate story, one that is more-so developing (including possible relationship). She is EXTREMELY close to them though, and there is almost a familial, platonic love dynamic there. It's not quite just friendship, and not a romantic relationship, but a sinister third thing.

I debated making her part of the relationship at first, but settled on this instead because I like to explore different concepts with characters, and with her I wanted to work through the stage of defining your identity, of your preferences, and stepping over the boundary of your own self-consciousness and inexperience to explore new experiences and relationships, something I couldn't really do with Blythe as her story focused more on having this identity be shaped by society around her.

Vampirism is a metamorphosis of your body, from one state to another (a concept I explore with Blythe too) - but where as Blythe views it as a traumatic event that has left a stain on her, Lorelai doesn't have an issues with Vampirism in of itself, she doesn't mind the new state that her body is in, but rather is going to the growing pain of getting accustomed to it, and how it impacts her as a person (so working through a trauma and acknowledging it rather than denial vs your new defined identity and how you navigate the world based on it)

Lorelai is meant to be seen as almost floundering without knowing what she wants, and having a hurdle of fear and inexperience with the Big Wide World to step over ; this odd period of adulthood where you don't quite feel *adult*. Blythe grew up too quickly, while Lorelai feels as though she is lacking as an adult and as a woman. A similar theme can be found in 'My Lesbian experience with Loneliness' by Kabi Nagata.

Another post I made about Lorelai's Deal is linked here!

I keep forgetting that people can't read my mind and just see what I have to say about these characters without posting it 😭

[ash-arts-a-thing]

height chart of the pikmin captains.......? 👀

Thank you, anon, for finally pushing me to make some references with colour !!

[licollisa]

i’d love to hear your take on sans’ personality!

i was going through your whole blog (as you do) and saw ur post on how sans tends to be mischaracterized, but fanon takes are also very normal and generally just fine, and i agree - i feel like some amount of personal spin from the author is always expected (and keeps things fresh and fun to a degree), but i also feel as if sans is a somewhat tough character to actually pin down when you’re writing him, so i’ve similarly had to drop some fic when they stray too widely from my non-negotiable sans traits lol. (like Being Calm and unruffled. bc while some of that is depression, a large part of it is Just The Way He’s Built lmao.)

Oh for sure, I also have my own set of Sans mischaracterization pet peeves in fics (though I'd often look the other way if the fic is well-written because beggars can't be choosers, no writer owes anyone a perfect Sans voice, fanfics are for fun, etc etc. Hell one of my favorite fics of all time portrayed Sans as an asshole and I'm not complaining because good god the writing is just THAT delicious and I still can't believe I'm reading it for free).

E.g Sans calling another adult (often times the MC) with 'kid'. Or like I've mentioned on another post, if he's quick to anger or aggressive enough to attack at the slightest provocation. Sometimes it's not a case of mischaracterization at all, just something I personally can't read without feeling like a wet kitten (the next time I read an overused skeleton related pun I will escape my own and DIE).

I often theorize why this is a Thing. I yearned to understand why I'm subjected to read yet another skele-ton, tibia, humerus, funny bone pun. Maybe since Undertale was popular with a big ass fanbase, and Sans is like our mascot, so when you combine this with a majority of the fandom being in the younger side -- youths full of time and creativity and energy though lacked the writing experience -- what's left of our poor skeleton is a pile of flanderized bones. Which is often the case when you're young and you just started writing because damn that blue skeleton is too romance able to deny (want write... But HOW write???).

You thought of some of his traits you often see (ketchup, touch Papyrus and die, blue glowing eye, epic bones & blaster attacks, puns, depression, have I mentioned the touch Papyrus and die? Puns again, threats, the bad time catchphrase, so on so forth) and you use these as a guiding bible to writing Sans the Skeleton. Boom, Sans x Reader 200k enemies to lovers.

,,,Bottom line is, I'm kind of sure the tendency to mischaracter him stems from Undertale's popularity and the younger part of the fandom. That, or after all these years, people had simply grown to love and accept Fanon Sans in all his slightly unlikeable behavior glory (heartwarming). So the inaccurate potrayal is now, like, on purpose -- on top of fanon him being easier to pin down because the canon guy are too tricky to pin down, like you said.

From what I've seen though, the canon Sans starts to get the love he deserves again! All is good. Now I can read a Sans x Reader 200k enemies to lovers, but with the actual dude this time. Awesome.

Ight, that said. I legit also think people should write him in the way that makes them the happiest. Sans is fictional but your happiness isn't. Even if your Sans will finally be the one to prompt me to escape my own skeleton. Or your Sans is RABID and deserves JAILTIME and GROWLS and BARA. Go wild, be free, and more importantly, have fun! <3

[beautifulpersonpeach]

So,

As I said earlier this week, I'm on vacation and hope to get around to some of your asks soon. But in the time I posted that and now, things happened, the world has blown up and the life my 67 year old friend and helper had in Oahu, is upended. I'm currently helping with relief efforts for Maui, and if anyone is so inclined, please see this link for a list of local Hawaiian charities that can get real help to people who most need it right now. It's a list made by native Hawaiians with confirmed charities on the top tabs.