#spontaneous writing

[tawaubast]

O pure Mother,

Lioness of two Crowns,

Great Bast of cooled fires,

And calm waters,

Rejuvenate me.

Purify me.

Cast aside the hurt,

And the rage,

And the pain.

Fill it with your love,

And your joy.

[thedarksideofmymoonhasmatches]

I like the kinds of love you have to work on everyday, the relationship that's never gained, the woman who's never fully won over, the abrasion of daily passion for another that's not found in lust, not attained through sex, not delivered in grand gestures but that is driven and tells you, you, that I am here fully aware, whatever has been thrown at us.

[cyndilou314]

today, I am doing what I want to do. today, I am doing nothing at all.

today, I appreciate all that is around me. today, I create more beauty to surround me.

today, I feel no guilt about anything I have done. today, I feel no guilt about the things I've yet to do.

today, I breathe in and absorb all the sunshine. today, I exhale negativities and release shadows.

today, I accept love from all sources. today, I put my love into all energies.

and tomorrow, I'll do it all again.

[e-s-willswriting]

Mini-Writing: Childish

I curl up under my blankets, biting and sucking on a toy. It's safer than the alternative, which is punching the wall until my knuckles break and my skin blisters and bleeds. In the dark, grasping for the little warmth I can get from the cold, I'm safe for now. The headache from the crying dissipates.

If you saw this, you would say I'm childish.

It's not for you to get, and you never could. This is breaking the cycle, and you've long been a cog in the machine.

I may be childish, but I was never a child. In my childhood, I was intimately aware of emotional pain at an age where the worst wounds should have been scraped knees and picked scabs. And yet I couldn't be sad. God forbid I be sad! Only you were allowed to be sad and angry and annoyed and tired, because I was just being ridiculous!

When you say I'm childish, you're really saying that I'm disagreeable to you. Adulthood is hiding, it's covering up pain and issues as if dusting the surfaces while the house stands on broken foundations.

Now, I choose to let myself nurture the inner child. I allow myself the innocence and needs that weren't met. The blankets are freshly tucked around my curled up body. The pillow I lay on is the lap of me; the adult. The adult me strokes my hair, hums a soothing lullaby, and tells me that it's safe and fine to cry. I'm both my own parent and my own child, looking out for myself in ways you never did.

[grimesgirll]

“good fucking girl.”

is definitely not something rick should be saying to his best friend’s girlfriend - especially not with his cock halfway down her throat.

the moment shane had stepped out for a run with glenn and michonne, you and rick were all over each other. you couldn’t handle sneaking into rick’s bed down the hall anymore. you were bound to end up in his lap on the sectional, pawing at him like a bitch in heat.

it’s not that shane didn’t fuck you; he took every chance he got. you’re just enamored with rick. ever since your boyfriend had “shared” you with his fellow officer, rick had been on your mind.

the way his brown constable’s jacket fit against his muscles when they flexed. the glint of his chocolate curls. how good he is with judith.

rick gets you goin’ in a way shane hasn’t for quite some time. he was right when he got you down on your knees back at the rest stop. you did look at rick like you wanted to drain him and then have him bend you over and fuck you silly - and that’s what ended up happening.

ever since that day, shane got off on toying with you and having you sit on rick’s cock in addition to his own. he uttered excuses about the stresses of their new duties as constable but you just slid down your denim skort and squealed the occasion away.

you’re quiet now, nice and muffled on rick’s dick as you swallow around him. the motion has him twitching in your mouth. wanting to finish off inside of you for the night, the thick length in your mouth is withdrawing and suddenly you’re in that familiar face down position again.

“so wet, baby,” rick remarks in awe as his length brushes your slippery entrance.

you’re squeezing your thighs together - trapping him between the pillowy soft surfaces. “rick,” you cry. “c’mon, already.”

“what’d we say?”

you swallow, a tear from how needy you are sliding down your cheek. “please, sir.”

you could care less if shane walked in right now. as long as rick keeps driving his hips into yours and breathing your name like a prayer, you’ll be content. content to get fucked silly by the man before he takes you in his arms and spends the night with a hand on your waist and his nose buried in your hair.

that’s after though.

now, you’re being nearly fucked up the couch.

rick’s just enjoying the way your sweet little cunt grips him like it needs him. the little thing sucks him in even better than your mouth.

and you’re a whole other story. sweat sticking to your glistening forehead, you’re babbling incoherent thoughts, strung out on the cock molding you to his shape.

your slick is pooling around rick like he’s in the fucking atlantic. so close to losing it all over him already, you’re making an absolute mess of the couch that you’ll have to resolve before shane gets home. don’t want him suffering from any fear of missing out.

the man is swept from your mind when rick absolutely crams his cock inside of your clinging cunt. the kiss to your cervix is enough for you to start seeing spots around the older man making you take his cock so well.

every time you park your pussy on rick’s thick dick and come, you ground down, grasp his hand, do anything to get as close as possible. feeling him to skin to skin is second only to feeling him fill you up. the filthy praises coming from his lips come close as well.

“fuck, baby, so nice and tight. you want me to come inside you, huh? have shane come home to this pussy all messy?”

you’re shaking your head like you have any idea what you’re asking for. “yes, rick! i want you to make a mess of my pussy.”

“then come all over this cock, honey.”

“mhmm, rick, i-,”

“that’s it.”

“i love how deep you are, rick-,” you’re bumbling like an idiot and muttering a string of “i love you”s as the dam bursts and you come undone on rick’s cock.

the pulsing warmth beneath you is accompanied by a husky, “i love you too,” and a chorus of your name into your shoulder as rick used his horsecock to fuck you two through your climaxes.

the friction on your clit heightens the heat surrounding you and flooding into you from rick. you’re almost overwhelmed by the bruising kisses rick purples onto your neck as he gathers you on top of him.

“you did so good, honey,” he’s praising you and you’re just nodding, humming, “thank you”s and “i know”s until he’s bear hugging you again. the way he nuzzles into your neck from behind and exhales into your hair is enough for you to forget trudging up to bed and drift off into rick’s touch right there.

you’re already asleep in his arms but he takes the time to stroke your hair and kiss up and down your temples. god, he loves getting this time with you to himself - even if you’re asleep.

with you pressed against him and your heartbeat thrumming, the world is still and rick realizes something - he’s never letting you go.

[bidonicart]

Lyanna Stark and ser Gerold Hightower at the Tower of Joy.

A scenario conceived by @seaworthit, scripted by @nobodysuspectsthebutterfly and adapted into a comic by me.

where else to find me

[poeticintelligence]

Poem On Spontaneous Play Fore-playing To Bromance: The playfulness and pleasure in enjoying each other. Coupled with love and spontaneity … Their arousal grows undeniably. Just waiting for zippers to come down, then playfulness in discovering each other all the way to climatic heaven.

[actual-changeling]

Crowley screamed for Her when he fell because She wasn't the one who cast him out, she couldn't have been; the love so bright it blinded him whenever he reached for it was real, is real, it has to be.

He did not scream for God or the Almighty, he cried for his Mother, the one who had smiled at him with a tenderness unlike any other and named him Starmaker.

They rushed by him, his stars, when he fell, colourful streaks blurred by the tears in his eyes as the grace defining his every cell left him, scream after scream. Crowley called for Her, seeing blinding white taking shape, and he dared to hope, stretching out an arm right before the flames of hell swallowed him whole.

In his weakest moments, curled up on the concrete of his balcony with his face bared to the sky, he tries to believe that a hand, slender and familiar, had been reaching for him. Tries to believe that She still loves him, that She never left him even though he left Her.

Crowley stretches one hand skywards, watching the stars twinkle between his fingers, and all he has left to offer is a whisper, the same question that ripped him away from everything good, everything light.

"Why?"

Every time, he asks. Every time, all he receives is silence, and then he waits until dawn washes away his creations. Crowley unfurls his wings on those mornings, presses them to cold concrete and metal in a doomed attempt to try and soothe the ever-present burn caught in his feathers.

If he closes his eyes, dizzy with uncried tears and cramping muscles, the morning sun slowly warming on his face, it almost feels like it did back then when he was tumbling through nebulae and constellations; rage and disappointment both so laced with fear they became one and the same.

Sometimes, when the tethers connecting him to hell and earth are two shackles holding him down, he thinks about flying as high as he possibly can just to let go and feel the air rushing through his feathers - so he can pretend there is nothing waiting for him, nothing but stars and more stars, and empty spaces for him to fill.

When he inevitably moves, his wings stiff but momentarily soothed, he remembers that he doesn't need to do anything at all to reclaim that feeling. It is enough to drive too fast with too much fizzling rage only to let himself be broken apart by his longing when Aziraphale is always, always an arm's length away.

Crowley lies on his back, the Bentley cold beneath him, one hand stretched out to the sky, reaching for the stars, reaching for him, his eyes violet, his lips familiar.

Sometimes he still thinks he can see Her reaching for him as his wings wither and his stars burn.

Sometimes he thinks he can see his angel looking back, his tears blinking comets burning up in the atmosphere.

Sometimes he thinks he never stopped falling.

-

edit: now with amazing art by @ghoullerr 💚💚

[chatdae]

I'm watching ep3 of Yuri on Ice again and wow, Viktor having Yuuri skate Eros really is so fucking wild to me. On the one hand: reasonable choice. Viktor wants Yuuri to surprise the audience. He knows Yuuri can perform like this (cough banquet cough) and he knows that Yuuri capitalizing on this potential could win him the season.

On the other hand: oh my God. Does Viktor want to torture himself.

Listen: Yurio says Viktor was contemplating choreographies for himself during the past season. So, Viktor's been thinking about Love as a theme for himself. Man is 27. Everyone's asking him if / when he'll retire. He's considering his future. He's been thinking about love. He's considering his future he's been thinking about love He takes a season off, flies to Japan -- for Yuuri--,, he has Yuuri (who ran away from Viktor's flirting in ep2!) skate Erotic love. (aka the emotion he didn't return to Viktor during Viktor's first days in Japan ((aka an emotion that Viktor's been thinking about for a while (((aka an emotion Viktor believes Yuuri can pull off (because he's SEEN Yuuri pull it off (((at the FUCKING BANQUET where he flirted on Viktor THEN DISAPPEARED))))).

TL;DR this Russian knows how to pine.

[gt-daboss]

JEALOUS GIANTS JEALOUS GIANTS JEALOUS GIA-

I want them

That face when you found an injured borrower, nursed it back to health, slowly, slowly gained its trust and companionship. you put your blood, sweat, and tears into making them feel safe above all else... only for Joey McSmallpants to barge in out of nowhere and try to steal YOUR tiny away from you? Worry not fellow giants! you can simply use your superior strength to flick the other tiny away!

On a serious note, I think the potential for this trope is always massive. Perfect for a dramatic payoff, and everytime i see it being used my heart skips a beat >.> like, realistically tol could simply force them to stay, go against everything they have wanted to represent for their tiny friend, and truly become the monster that they've been trying so hard to not be since their meeting. but they know it would only make it worse, despite their love for their smol, if they truly want to leave... its not in their right to keep them, no matter how much it hurts...

[gmaybe666]

will making ....a comic for mike

I propose that will draws all the time because losing himself in drawing is when he feels the happiest and most free, I also propose that he's obsessed with collecting images of knights and soldiers and medieval fairytales and sticking them on his wall because he is Very Gay And A Nerd

link to read will's comic

message me to buy will's comic !

[thedarksideofmymoonhasmatches]

I linger for one hour, I imagine, I remember, the dresses she wears in the summer, the sun on her skin that makes her smile louder, the cooler breeze gently blowing in her hair in the evening sitting in the warm light of the bonfire, of a one-second sight I make a lifelong landscape, I rewind, I savor, I change the decor, her locks from the moon, the sunbeams highlight the curvy shades under her dress and I'm hungry for my everything hour, I linger, I eat her blues, I live in her coves, I was never a believer before I met her, I like her more than I ever could a sister, the way she sways when she forsakes me, how she mocks me when she comes back, how she rocks how she pokes how she licks her lips when her eyes are brimming, I'm a fish out of its bowl, I always want to hold her but I let her leave, and I linger for five more minutes, and the dream fades out, the kisses in the woods, the kites and the pleasures, and the dresses she wears in the summer.

[ivetried27nameswhataboutthis1]

Enid: Yesterday I missed you a lot, but then I read this article, which reminded me of you and I immediately got all the butterflies, imagining you in that scenario.

Wednesday: What was it?

Enid: It was called: ‘Homicidal teen sets local coffee shop ablaze, then blames it on spontaneous human combustion’

Wednesday: I wish you had told me you were into that, before. I would set any building on fire, that dares to insult you with the wrong color. Just say the word, my heart.

Enid: You are my dream girl.

[liatai]

Question!

Neurodivergent peeps of Tumblr, I have a question.

I know that "nonverbal" or "selectively mute" are specific terms that mean "I cannot force words out no matter how hard I try," so... is there a term for "I can speak if I have to, but right now it requires extra energy?"

Like, I'm autistic. I have times where I can speak and even hold conversations, but stringing a verbal sentence together takes effort, the same kind of effort lifting a heavy load with your body would but in your mind. I can be perfectly eloquent and verbose in text when this happens, and sometimes I'll even make some of the limited signs I know in ASL without an issue, but speaking aloud uses up all my mental RAM and I can feel the metaphorical fans of my mind-computer whirring in overdrive. X3;

It's exhausting, too. Usually if I've been verbally social for a while, that's when it kicks in.

I can understand spoken words just as well as other times when this happens, as long as I don't have to speak to reply. If I have to speak, the mental effort and stamina needed to do it tends to push details aside in an endeavor to save processing power. ^^;

I know autism is a spectrum, and I'm hoping someone might have a name for this "not QUITE nonverbal but verbal words are VERY hard right now" feeling ^^; "Partially nonverbal" or "partially selectively mute" doesn't seem quite right.

Help?

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

ROSE: That dream you had is very interesting, Dave.

ROSE: Freud would say it's indicative of intense sexual repression due to dealing with your brother so often, and having little physical freedom.

ROSE: Although Jung would say that it has nothing to do with sex, and simply indicates that you want to be a person with more of a purpose in life.

ROSE: Then Freud would say, "No, that's stupid. Purpose is so vague and hardly means anything about the patient or the dream. The interpretation of the genital fixation makes far more sense."

ROSE: Then Jung would retaliate with, "Not everything is about sex, you idiot! He's a teenager! How much could unconscious sexual desires affect him? And purpose just means that there is a lack of direction in his life. He wants something to do, something to strive for! Shouldn't we try to help him find that purpose instead of just attributing everything to this reductive view of human psychology?"

ROSE: Then Freud would go, "Perhaps you're right. But you can't deny that something is being repressed here. Maybe not sexual desire, but there is certainly a desire for something other than purpose."

ROSE: Then Jung would say, "Not really. What else could it be? Love? That's just an offshoot of sex in your view. I don't get what it could be at all."

ROSE: Freud would nod sternly and say, "Perhaps the patient desires connection. Not necessarily closely tied to purpose, but connection to others in the world is something he needs. That's what the globes in the dream represent. Connection to the world, something other than the living space he is stuck in. That's certainly a major effect of having no mother figure in childhood."

DAVE: rose

ROSE: Jung would sigh and say, "Connection. I see. Maybe that's something we all desire innately. We need to connect to each other and the world in order to understand what we need to do."

ROSE: Freud would take a step towards Jung and reach out a hand, saying, "Jung. We disagree so often that it feels there is no connection in the world. But I know we know each other. We can understand what we mean. If we all desire connection, that includes you and me. Let's try to connect more with each other, okay?"

DAVE: rose

ROSE: Jung would take Freud's hand and pull him close to his face, just inches apart from each other, and softly whisper, "Freud, you know that when I disagree with you, it's more because I envy you. I want to connect with you more, we can satisfy our... deepest desires, as you say... and become the ideal people we want to be if we are closer."

DAVE: ROSE

ROSE: What?

DAVE: shut up

DAVE: i did not sign up for your psychologist fanfiction

DAVE: tell me if im gay or not

[sualne]

nerfing law