#still exhausted but having fun with my hobbies again

[jinchuls-moved]

my laptop broke and now i have a new one maybe i'll try writing something teehee

[imwritesometimes]

ngl getting comments on fic is like hmmm maybe I should give this whole writing thing a try again....

[apollo-zero-one]

Singing employment paperwork be like "I, Legal Name I Don't Identify With, of not particularly sound mind nor especially able body, agree under coercion of society and so not exactly of my own volition, to give This Job all of my spoons and then some 5-7 days a week, in exchange for not enough money to move out of my parents house."

[eggsandramem]

thinking about the notes i currently have for nameless (siffrins nickname in the 1k loops au that ive kinda stuck onto him in a rp server)

i dont??? know if ive even shared them here??? erm

YAP SESSION TIME‼️ (below the cut)

[CW FOR MENTIONS OF IMPLIED SH, AND SUI]

[additionally, spoiler warning for pretty much the entire game :0c(?)]

yay! yay! yay!

`TIMELINE`

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

`. • Timeless days of Lost Reflections • .`

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

[ The AU itself takes place during the canon events of ISAT, but with the sort of effect of Siffrin losing more and more of his memories as he passes through loop after loop, forgetting more and more with each loop.

Its mentioned, and even *shown* ingame that Siffrin forgets entire loops, and the game will sometimes hop from, lets say for example; 320 to 326 [as i have personally seen happen to myself multiple times as i went through my own save file consisting of exactly 1000 loops (why i did this? i saw the post Adrienne(isertdisc5) made, with a video showing a false cutscene when you reach 1k loops, with loop responding with "Stardust. What the fuck". I thought it was silly) and thought it would be a fun bit to pull off), but happening more and more with each loop. The more loops that go by, the more his memory starts to decline; forgetting where traps, keys, items are... but as the loops happen more and more consistently, he starts to lose more *important* memories, those being that of what he did with his family before the loops, small little things that have made important memories with them, and even over time, he's grown to forgetting his family members as a whole. Forgetting all of this is bad enough, but there's a point where he forgets himself; the things he likes, the things he's supposed to do, the hobbies and food he likes and dislikes...

Loop is still apart of all of this, except they've kept every memory in this journey so far. originally, they thought it was rather funny at first, due to being "happy they weren't the only idiot who got themself trapped in time". Overtime, however, Loop just grows... exhausted. it was funny at first, but with Siffrins memory and motivation rapidly decreasing, they're just stuck with the memories that the universe has had them keep, rather than forget, and they start to think, even more so, the fact of what the point of their original wish was, if it was to turn out this way? It hits them hard, to say the least, having them think of if this happened to them in their own universe as well, what it would be like...

Siffrins forgotten loop multiple times as well, surprisingly. Loop would call to check in on Siffrin during loops, only for him to be startled, asking where the voice came from, who it was... They forget their physical appearance often as well, whenever this happens, they just look.... confused, seeing Loop under the favor tree when he goes to visit

Siffrin is..... extremely tired, fatigued, overall *exhausted* from all of these loops, and often stays within the meadow in Dormont. ]

[ This AU actually takes place in act 5, and sort of reverses itself as it goes on. Safe to say, Odile wasn't able to stop Siffrin from looping back during the fight, and it started all over again, from going in the house on his own multiple times, back to going with his party after not noticing many changes due to the Bigfrin fight not happening a second time, Siffrin being able to defeat the King on his own, only to end up with the same thing from the Head Housemaiden over, and over, and over again. Just. Like. Usual. After not being able to find any changes with going on his own, he starts going with his party again. Being with his party in the house again, he starts to try new things, only to forget things he's done beforehand, and repeating them when he forgets, but thinks of it again.

This continues to happen, until Siffrin sort of... grows tired, and his sense of time in the House, as well as his memory fail him. He starts to just remain in the meadow, laying in the field with the birds often coming to sit with him ]

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

`NOTES`

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

`✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦`

☆*:・ﾟ - Siffrin keeps number of how many loops he's gone through by using a small paper card to cut a tally into his skin. This being said, he has 1000 tallies total spread out along both of his arms. For some reason, his body has sort of just. goes on autopilot, and Siffrin usually doesn't even notice that it happened, especially later in the loops since he doesn't know where they keep coming from (despite being the one causing them). Why these remain is strange, especially since he loops to before it happens, but... weird thing in the universe, i guess

*: ･ﾟ ’★ - As a continuation to the tally mark scars; Overtime, the amount of deaths from certain things start to leave a mark on Siffrin, literally. Scars start to remain the more he dies to them, only healing them to be non-lethal, and just as scars in general. This includes; a scar on his head in reference to slipping on a banana and hitting a rock, a large slash-like scar going from the top to bottom of his torso (front AND back), partially frozen 'markings' from his hands and up his arms from frozen tear deaths, other random scars from fighting sadnesses here and there, and a scar on his neck from.... you know. `(visuals for scars can be found HERE. heavy cw for the sh-like tally marks!!!)`

☆*:・ﾟ - Similarly to the scarring, Siffrins hair length doesn't stay the same the more loops he goes through. Over time, his hair has grown to be able to reach where his tailbone is, and is still growing with each loop. Said hair is very messy; matted, unbrushed... He's thankful that he has the ability to shower and clean his clothing in dormont when he has the chance, atleast. You don't want to be walking around with overly greasy hair, and gross/smelly clothing, after all. Siffrins cloaks have also started to look more and more worn out along with his hair, and permanently has some missing fabric here and there, as well as parts he's had to sew back together.

*: ･ﾟ ’★ - `[cw sui ment.]`Siffrins dagger starts to have blood stained, or dried on the blade further in the loops, the more he ||uses it on himself.|| The more its used, the more present it is on the blade.

☆*:・ﾟ - One of the memories that can be equipped, is the "Memory of Memories". in the game, its description is [You can remember this, at least.], so i think that it would be interesting if it acts as a permanent Memory now that it's been made aware of. That being said, Siffrin can read the language of his home country, and even over time speak it, the more he needs to use it in the house. Below is the proper description for the Memory;

---- • Memory of Ḿ̶̨e̵͛ͅm̶͘̕o̶̥͠ŕ̷͂i̴̔̉è̴s?

[ you cannot forget this even if you tried ]

( allows the user to understand and use the north islands language) ----

*: ･ﾟ ’★ - On the topic of Memories; Siffrin forgets the "Memory of Emptiness" as soon as he stops going through the house on his own, and goes back to loops including his family. The only Memories he keeps are "Memory of Ḿ̶̨e̵͛ͅm̶͘̕o̶̥͠ŕ̷͂i̴̔̉è̴s?", and "Memory of Spiraling" after this. "Memory of Spiraling" is the other Memory that Siffrin keeps after the previously mentioned one. Instead of not having a Memory for remembering the script dialogue in the actual game, 1k loops Siffrin is *forgetful as hell*, so having a memory they cant forget helps with it. The memory is as follows;

---- • Memory of Spiraling (Passive Memory)

[ Turning back the clock- watch it spiraling, spiraling ]

( allows the user to ALWAYS remember their lines in the script. cannot be unequipped ) ----

☆*:・ﾟ - Siffrin experiences Craft Sickness due to very obvious reasons during all of his loops. Siffrins been brought down to his entire body being weakened, collapsing when he deals with it for too long with no breaks. However, Siffrin has grown to push through them with sheer stubbornness, before it gets too bad and it happens again. This happens over and over again, a loop within a loop in a way, if you think about it.

*: ･ﾟ ’★ - Siffrin avoided Loop for a good amount of loops after he looped back from the Bigfrin fight due to their previous convo, but went back after a while

☆*:・ﾟ - Siffrin, over time, has found himself collapsing from exhaustion within the house when with his party, and it causes him to loop due to the stress of something new happening. Additionally, a very common death Siffrin experiences is when he's exhausted himself to point of dying in his sleep when his party offers it

*: ･ﾟ ’★ - Siffrin, the more loops he goes through and the more he forgets about his Family Members and their Names, the less he can even hear their names, and his own. Names he previously knows of sound fuzzy and static-y within their hearing distance!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

MORE TO COME! BUT YAY! YAY! YAY! YAY! YAY!

[neetily]

Without Shame — (SDV) Sebastian

— ✧ warnings: Stepbro!Sebastian, pseudoincest, stepcest, Cheating, dubcon, Magic pocket pussy, mean sebastian, Name Calling, Cunnilingus, accidental creampie, Objectification, ruined orgasm, Fingering — ✧ word count: 7,617 — ✧ genre: smut (18+)

— ✧ A/N: reposting from my old account since i was asked to! formatting might be off, but it's still readable.

Ever since he can recall, you’ve been a fucking brat. There’s no other way to put it quite so eloquently, he thinks. At least when it comes to interacting with him, which makes it all the more frustrating when you play innocent with others. Has him feeling  insane  when no one believes his claims that you’re evil, that he’d really rather be alone than stuck with you as a sibling, that everyone else is wrong when they call  him  the mean one. You play the role of innocent little sister well in public, and though part of him is genuinely impressed at your acting skills, he unfortunately knows the real you; and you’re so fucking annoying. Especially the way that you know exactly how to get away with your mistreatment of him, remaining undetected the moment a third party shows up so that he has to take the blame. Every. Single. Time.

Which is unfair, right? Unlike his usual sedentary lifestyle, the one constant that he can always count on in life is that you’ll surely be there to cause chaos for him. Whether that be from your  ‘playful’  comments about his appearance, making fun of his lifestyle choices and hobbies, or the fact that you’re quite literally  dating his best friend ; it’s fair to say that you’ve always annoyed him. Siblings fight, sure, but he’s never called you anything close to  sister  in his life, and he doesn’t plan on it. He didn’t grow up with you so much as you just showed up one day to ruin his life, strutting around like you already owned the place with that dumb smirk he so often sees you wear, in spite of the fact that  you  moved into  his  home. More than anything he refers to you only as  brat , because that’s what you are. An annoying, good for nothing, stupid little  brat  who needs to be put in her place. Particularly considering that you’ve never been told no before; maybe that’s why you bug him so often, because he’s not afraid to say what you hate most.

No, you can’t have that. No, that’s mine. No, I’m not staring at your ass.

What’s worse is that he can’t even hide how much you get to him, retaliating to your attacks with barks of his own every time, too afraid that if he doesn’t keep if with you that you’ll only bully him more. And it’s  exhausting  watching you prance around the house, usually in next to no clothing, teasing him at the dinner table with your nipples poking through your shirt—no bra again, despite his begs for you to wear one—until he eventually snaps at you to  shut up ; and then it’s him that gets punished for it!

Unfair is to word that suits you best. How you treat him, and how he feels about you. Because at the end of the day, he’s just a man. A man with a stupidly annoying hot step sister who provokes him day in and day out, teasing his perverted mind with just barely not enough; because you’re  mean  and  you fucking know it .

Tonight, he decides to change that.

For all the pranks you’ve had him endure, he’s got his own devious plan up his sleeve. Been sitting on it for a few nights, a pure fantasy that even now he barely thinks is even possible, prepared for it to all be a scam, but fuck it. He has to try. Anything to wipe that stupid smile off your cute face, regardless of morals. And you only have yourself to blame, your dumb… Hot self.  Fuck  he hates you. Hates the way his cock twitches every time you enter his room, even if he knows you’re only there to upset him. Hates the way his heart hurts when you show him your recent selfies with Sam, how his tummy turns when you only give up on teasing him because Sam is calling you, a thick layer of bile always on the tip of his tongue waiting to put you down.  It’s disgusting , the way he actually loves it.

He especially hates the cute little pout you wear when he does bites back, mimicking your words in a high pitched mocking tone just to hear you whine some more, standing tall above you only to talk down at you.  God , it makes him so hard just thinking about your teary eyes when he takes it a step too far, commenting on that one thing he knows you’re actually   insecure about and big fat tears travel down your chubby cheeks. So fucking hot making you sob for him, turning your otherwise pretty smile into an earnest scowl, like you  hate him . It’s what you deserve for being such an annoying fucking brat. If he can’t have you be nice for him, he’ll take punishing you into tears happily. He doesn’t care too much either way, because you’re pretty when you cry too.

And it’s not that he doesn’t feel guilt for looking at you with a lecherous gaze, but rather that he simply doesn’t care. Knowing that it’s wrong and yet still he gives in to his perverted nature by stroking his cock to thoughts of you, of shutting you up by filling your throat, driven by the seed of shame taking root in his tummy to pet his erection under his desk every time you moan for him to stop teasing. It’s the only thing that helps, to balm the pangs of remorse when a smirk tugs at his lips every time you cry wolf.

Which brings him to the item in his hands, spurred on to get back at you after you recently attempted to go into deep detail about your oh so fun little date with Sam the other day. It’s bad enough that you went against his wishes and started dating Sam in the first place—he has some choice words for his best friend too—but you make things worse by  indulging . Elaborating on what you love most about Sam, teasing intimate details that he’d rather not hear about; and acting oblivious to his glares. You know damn well how to rile him up just right, to get him on the edge of fighting back before retreating to the safety of your room, or worse, your father. No, he doesn't want to hear about how Sam took you home after your date last night, or about how rough his hands are on your plush thighs. It’s  gross , because deep down he wishes it was  him .

You should be thankful, really, that he’s going to such lengths to prank you. Only you would have him acting this desperate, squeezing the soft silicone toy in his shaking fists like a stress toy, his ass perched right on the edge of his computer chair as if it were the only barrier left before the point of no return. It was through the old man camping near his house that clued him in to the supposed wizard occupying the tower in Cindersap Forest, a claim that he initially passed off as a farce, but after your latest stunt of divulging disgusting details he decided it couldn’t hurt to ask for more information, just to amuse himself. A little fantasy of getting back at you, nothing more. Though, now that he’s got the supposed magical object in hand, he can’t help but bounce his leg off his old squeaky floor, giddy excitement resting heavy in his chest as he gives the rubber toy another squeeze, already panting at the thought of executing his plan.  Fuckin’ brat,  he smiles to himself.  Only gettin’ what’s comin’ t’ya .

It’s the first time he’s getting a proper look at the toy too, unable to give it a second thought until right now thanks to you. Your petulant attitude when he arrived home only irked him, solidified his decision to defile you tonight even more so when you taunted him about leaving the house and how  he never usually does and was he seeing a girl? A friend? Must have been really important if he left his room, right?  God, even just thinking about your teasing voice causes his brows to furrow in frustration, tongue clicking at the mere memory of your pestering, gripping the girth of the toy in his hands as if it were your throat.

Selfish desire gets the better of him though, and for as much fun as it is pretending to choke you out, it’s getting late and his mom will be back with your dad soon. Which means he hasn’t got much time left to ruin you, so, he carefully holds the toy up to his face for inspection. What greets him is all pink and  pretty , his throat immediately drying when he realises just how  attractive  it is. Then, quickly, upset crawls up to his tongue and hides behind his teeth when recalling how the wizard called it a  replica , and knowing that your cunt is apparently this pretty for real angers him. Like,  how dare you  be withholding such a pretty pussy from your big brother, right? Shouldn’t he get first dibs on it, and not  Sam . Suddenly, calling you sister sounds appealing to him, and he’s almost tempted to pull his pants down and shove his already throbbing erection into your little unprepared pretty pussy just to punish you for keeping this cunt out his reach. But he’s too busy instinctively pressing the pocket pussy against his face as close as he can get without actually touching it and huffing. Sniffing along your faux slit and immediately leaning back into his chair as your scent washes over him, overwhelming and clouding his judgement.  Fuck,  okay, maybe it really  is  linked to your cunt. And because he's not as mean as you like to portray him, he decides to indulge himself a little. Or, he's simply too selfish  not  to eat you out, eager to get a first taste of his little sister, to see if she's really worth all the hassle.

And he’s so close too,  God ; about as close to actually fucking you as he can get right now that he’s honestly a bit dizzy, jutting his hips forward so his bulge can roll against the air in a mimicked action of sex. It’s instinctual, convincing his quickly emptying mind that this must mean that it’s  right , that your cunt belongs to your mean big brother, his breath fanning across the faux lips in rushed bursts of barely there restraint. He wonders if you can feel him already, wearing a cute confused pout at the cooling feeling between your legs;  fuck , he can unfortunately imagine it perfectly, his free hand coming down to pet at his pulsing cock with light touch, just barely there to tease him like he’s teasing you. Because this is better than he ever thought it’d be, having all the benefit of your hole right in front of him without needing to put up with... Well, you, and he’s afraid that if he gives in to his more baser instincts too soon; he’ll cum before he gets to have his fun.

Inhaling your scent some more causes his eyes to roll to the back of his skull, imagining how  quiet  you must be in your room all alone; even there you usually talk too much, way too fucking loud and annoying. Is his sniffing shutting you up? Cock dripping precum already at the image of you shooting upright in bed, forgetting all about what you were previously doing because  something  is happening to your body, left completely unaware that your mean older brother has his face practically buried between your legs right now. That’d for sure leave you gasping, right? Make you all squirmy and cute, soft and pliable for once in your fucking life.

And thanks to his depraved mind, his tongue automatically pokes out at the thought of you  listening  to him for once, kitten licking at the fake slit while he holds his breath. A natural action, one that he isn’t immediately aware he’s doing before he can feel soft skin against his teeth. His mind is slow to catch up to whats happening, too distracted by the palm circling his perverted bulge into submission, but when he realises that his lips are in contact with the pocket pussy, he rolls his tongue up to the swell of it, sighing against the slit in satisfaction over how you taste so  perfect . The more he teases his tongue between your folds the wetter he finds the fake cunt getting, and noticing that the magic imbued in the object is  real  causes his hips to jerk up into his open palm, rolling together in tandem with how he licks your cunt.

A soft curse escapes him when a gush of slick reaches his taste buds, immediately swallowing your liquid down like a dog. One hand holding the pocket pussy to his lips, the other tugging at his leaking cock. “Big brother making you feel good?” He whispers against it, only proving to rile himself up further at the verbal admission of touching his little sister so inappropriately. And he's so soft and tender with his tongue too, a momentary lapse in judgement, forgetting all about your brattiness the moment his lips grazed your puffy cunt, hypnotised by the taste and smell of your tiny hole into providing kindness to you.  Pussydrunk . It causes his cock to flex under his touch, dribbling saliva onto the toy to make his tongue glide easier between your lips. “ Dummy …” He sighs into you, giving your cunt a trail of kisses from top to bottom, and then back up again, letting his tongue poke out between kisses as if he were making out with your cunt more than anything.  Really  making out with it, sloppy sounds included with how eagerly he smacks his lips against you, the accumulation of saliva sticking to his chin as he presses kiss after lick at your hole. He shifts around on his chair, sliding down it just a little more to get comfortable and pushing it out away from his desk, his legs automatically opening while he slobbers all over the faux cunt, pretending that you’re riding his face right now because  fuck that’s so fucking hot, yeah?  Need big brother to eat you out and make your cunt feel all better? “Gettin’ all wet an’ slick for big brother? Preparin’ for his cock?” he continues talking to himself, voice hushed and mocking before diving back in to kiss the toy, easily believing that you’re in the room with him from the way your slick dribbles down his throat.  Linked  to you in your room,  fuuuck  he wants to see your face  so bad . Wants to hear your little hushed gasps and moans, clinging on to him for assistance without realising that it’s  him  that’s making you feel all funny. You just need big bro to take care of you, right? Need big bro to help make you feel all better, to work out why you feel all funny down there, yeah? There’s no need to be with Sam baby, big brother is just downstairs and more than willing to help your wet little cunt out.

A rough cough crawls up his throat as he pulls away for some air, a string of saliva keeping his tongue connected to your hole. It doesn’t last very long though because he’s diving right back in before he even fills his lungs, gripping at his cock and shaking it a few times before  attempting  to jerk himself off, but his jeans are too tight and he’s too drunk on your cunt to pull his pants down. Too busy with flattening his tongue against your wet little slit, slurping and groaning against your cunt while he gets off to just your  taste ,  fuck , can practically  smell  how much you need him by now, pressing sloppy kisses against your puffy little clit and tonguing at it desperately, humming with his kisses so that you can feel how much he appreciates your compliance: even if it’s robbed. “Pretty princess cunt,” He rasps to himself, dipping his tongue all the way down to your hole so that he can absentmindedly mouth at it, slipping inside with such ease as more slick gushes on his lips, making his fist tighten unfairly on his erection. He’s downright desperate. “Baby sister  cunt—”  He huffs roughly, tugging his cock only twice more before frustration overwhelms him and he’s reminded of your bratty attitude, placing the pocket pussy on the edge of his desk for you to drip slick onto his floor while his hands busy themselves with removing his pants and underwear as quickly as possible, only managing to get them over his knees before he settles back into his chair again, pocket pussy carelessly gripped and hovering dangerously close over his now exposed pulsing cock. He’s absolutely  trembling,  shaking with excitement while the faux cunt dribbles slick onto his already wet with precum cock, coating it in all your baby sister cream like a  good girl  for once. While he could eat you out  literally   all day  if he wanted to, face stuffed between your thighs for him to huff and kiss at mindlessly, insisting on continuing when you inevitably dig your nails into his hair and try to  yank  him off; his cock cries for attention. Twitches as fat globs of precum roll down to his balls, veins popping with impulsive need. He briefly wonders if Sam has ever gotten you this wet before, to the point of gushing over his cock before even entering.  Does big brothers tongue feel that good, baby?

Small  haah’s  are all he can let out as he squeezes the rubber toy in his fist, his other hand clenching tightly around the base of his perverted cock to angle it towards your sopping hole, staring at how your slick that leaks down to his tip shimmers in the seedy lighting of his room, where it connects to his own fat beads of precum that spill for you.  So close , he pants to himself.  Wanna fuck you so bad , he almost whines,  for so long . Stuck between ramming big brothers cock into your tiny little hole already, or to savour the moment for how monumental it feels. Sure, it’s not the real deal, but it’s  close enough ; even more depraved if he really thinks about it. Fucking you in secret, leaving you a mess all alone in your room; able to feel his girth but left unknowing as to why: he can’t fucking wait to bully you back some, make you feel how fat his cock is as punishment for tormenting him all this time.

And that’s all it takes, the promise of revenge. The torturous drip of your cunt onto his cock convincing him to enter,  inviting him , even, his fist lifting only to smear the combination of his pre and your slick over his hot and heavy length (as if it needed extra coating). He wets his lips in focus, lowering the pocket pussy closer to his red hot tip before some more pre spills for you, and as if that wasn't enough, he leans over himself to spit on his cock for extra lubrication. Don’t say he’s never kind to you, all right? “S’all your fault.” He chokes out, lowering the toy until the faux lips come into contact with his tip, automatically causing his hips to buck up into the soft feeling in search of  more ; but he forces himself to resist.  Wait , he tells himself, nonchalantly stroking the pocket pussy lips up and down his cock instead of entering, staining himself completely with your slick. Feels  so good, fuck , even just rubbing one out on you like this, pushing the fat of his cock between the fake lips to  really  hump at, y’know? Even lets his hip thrust upwards, causing him to fuck himself off his chair a little with how eager he’s pretending to hump his little sister, to properly punish you—or so he tells himself, but deep down he understands it’s more like he just wants to wet his cock, remind you of who you really belong to—because it’s what you fucking  deserve .

You deserve to feel the entirety of his greedy cock slipping and sliding between your folds, you deserve to feel the guilt and shame he’s desperately humping upon you for getting so  wet  due to big brothers cock. He’s entitled to this, he thinks. Putting up with you all these years, he takes his frustrations out by repeatedly knocking the tip of his cock against the faux clit of the pocket pussy to hopefully have you sobbing in your sheets, squirming under the phantom feeling of his cock bullying your upsettingly perfect little cunt. By the thick squelch that soon fills his room with every pass of his girth up and down the toy, he knows you must be enjoying his disgusting treatment.  Gross , he smiles to himself.

Busy humping himself silly against your fake cunt, he doesn’t fully register how close he is to slipping inside until it eventually happens. One minute he’s blissfully content rubbing one out against your slit, and the next he’s folding in on himself in a full body silent gasp, cock head fully engulfed in your tight little hole and knocking the wind out of him. Karma, he supposes, and then immediately forgets about as he feels your cunt squeeze around his intrusion for the first time ever; and you manage to effectively shut him up, no talking back or standing up to your teasing for once. Until you do it again, even if involuntary. “ Shit— fuck .” He groans, a rough sound crawled up from the pit of his tummy, drawn out from how nice and wet the toy in his hands is, thanks to  you . His weight shifts in his old computer chair, squeaking like it always does when he jerks off to the screen, only now it’s due to the immense strain he has to endure  not  to immediately bury himself balls deep in your cunt. You squeeze around him again as if asking for it and it hits him all at once, forced to realise with such sudden and alarming clarity that he was very much fucked.  Ruined , truthfully. The sinful suck of your linked cunt promising to spoil every other hole he potentially fucks in future, leaking little sister cream all over his twitching cock to entice him deeper, to fall further into your messy cunt depravity.

And really, it’s not bullying if you like it. He’s not being mean by rolling his hips into you  slowly , forcing you to savour every thick inch he’s got to offer as he enters you, tiny little humps upwards rather than forcing the toy down his cock to simulate sex better. You like it, don’t you? Dribbling all over his cock, bet you’re writhing in your sheets right now for him; because you must be just as slutty as him to be  enjoying  this. And it’s embarrassing just how much he likes it, how he already knows he’ll never be able to leave the pocket pussy alone, biting his lip raw to try and stifle his moans, squeezing one eye shut as if he was pained to be feeling so good, and he feels forced to swallow a bark creeping to his tongue at how  annoyed  he is. It’s  unfair  that you feel so good wrapped around him like this, half his cock buried in the toy, coating his length in even more slick to make the glide inside easier. And he thinks to himself that if you didn’t want it, you wouldn’t be this fucking slippery, his head thrown back at the soft squelch his cock fucks out of you. “ That’s it , fuck— what a good sister…” He ends up praising you despite his frustrations, unable to hide his genuine feelings for you in the secrecy of his own room, squeezing the pocket pussy even tighter around his greedy cock as he pushes up, up, and up until finally the faux lips rest against his pelvis and he can finally breathe again.

More than anything he wants to fist your hair and mess up your pretty styling, force his lips onto your own so that you can  taste  just how much he wants you; how downright desperate he is to claim you as his own. You’re his little sister, so you belong to him, right? Should be creaming on  his  cock and not anyone elses, cunt twitching around his fat girth as he grinds his hips into the toy, little circles to tease and taunt, bully you back into place for your petulant attitude he’s had to deal with his whole life.  Payback,  he muses, panting at the way your fake cunt accepts him so  easily , willingly wrapping around him so snugly; like you were made to take his cock. Just barely inside and you’ve already got him pulsing, balls taut at the way he so easily falls into you, how he’s sure he could cum right now just by circling his cock inside of you, stirring your insides up to prepare you for what inevitably comes next. Annoying, because he went into this perverted prank hoping to just upset you, to make you sob and whine on his cock like a  good girl  for once, and yet here he is struggling to regulate his breathing, fighting with himself to keep his hips from humping.

But  fuuuuck  you feel so good, nice and tight and  eager , constantly twitching and squirming on his cock to coax more precum out to stain your insides with, sucking his tip in so well as if asking for more, begging big brother to fuck you. And he’s watched enough hentai to know that he’s not immune to the little sister allure, despite his intentions to simply fuck with you; he has to show you that he’s the one in charge here, right? Regardless of his flimsy excuse, he does so instinctively, a flash of regret buried deep in his mind that’s easily clouded over by the sudden swallow of your cunt as he withdraw his hips, leaving only his tip inside to tease you with. More slick gushes out of the toy, trickling down to his balls and onto his chair, a tut escaping him despite being alone. “You’re such a fucking tease, y’know that?” He slurs, words caught in his throat and forced out of him as he drops the toy on his cock, shivering into the dirty action before repeating it again. And again. And again, until his fist wraps neatly around the toy enough to control the speed and he starts jerking off with your cunt.

Greedy gulps of air is all that’s heard in his room, besides the odd squeak and dribble of saliva, a few drops pooling on his tummy as he revels in the act of taking his perfect princess little sister in private. At least he tries to keep quiet, but it’s hard to keep his voice down when your walls squeeze him tighter, prompting him to suckle on his hoodie sleeve and pretend it was your nipple instead, lacing his tongue over the rough fabric as a means to distract himself from falling in love with your cunt. Is this how Sam feels when inside of you? Do you get this slippery for your boyfriend too, or is it because deep down you know  big brother  is fucking you properly.

God  he feels dizzy, so turned on at the thought of not only defiling you, but of doing it in a way where you’re left  uninformed . He wishes he could see your confused tear stained face, wants to watch you shake and cry for help while he bullies his cock into you, leaking all over the toy with every fuck of his hips upwards, matching the downward tug of his hands. And it’s even more fucked up that he’s treating you like the toy you are right now, literally jerking himself off as his tongue pokes against the inside of his cheek, furrowing his brows to gain greater focus, leaning back against his chair so that he can hump into the faux hole at abetter angle. “So good—” He babbles to himself, fluttering his lashes at the way the toy slams back down on his balls, the corners of his mouth wet with drool from the sound of your cunt making room for his corrupt cock. “Knew you’d feel s—so good—” The immorality of his actions only turns him on more, his legs coming out to straighten while his back arches against his chair, fucking into the toy with needy desperation, a tut on his tongue at how perfect you are for him. He hates how good it feels, wants to fuck his frustrations out on you, slamming the toy down as much as he fucks into it so you can really feel just how much you truly upset him. If it feels this good with a toy, he can’t imagine how ruined he’s gonna be when it comes to the real thing—because of course he’s gonna fuck you for real, are you kidding?  God , you feel too fucking good it’s  unfair , should be illegal—letting him masturbate inside of you like this; his infatuation for you deepens, and the closer he gets the less liable he is to hold on to his grievances.

“Stupid girl —” He mumbles, a line of drool spilling from his lips too. In the privacy of his basement room, he allows himself a moment to indulge. “If—  fuck, oh my God — if only you— If—” He tries. God, he tries to get his words out, clamping both hands around the slippery wet toy and leaning forward to rest his head on his desk, standing up off his chair—too hopeless to remain seated—so that he can drag the toy on and off his cock with more ease.  Faster , too, his hips try to keep up with his quick fists but they’re no match, he’s spent way too many lonely night pumping his cock raw to give his hips a chance. Slick drips from the pocket pussy, his feet planted firmly on the ground to give him better grip to fuck you with, and the floorboards squeak with the weight of his thrusts. But he doesn’t slow down,  can’t , really. Unable to give even himself a breather from the disgusting situation, frantically fucking the toy in his fists like his life depended on it, his previous plans of getting back at you forgotten about in favour of simply  getting off , uncaring for how you must be so scared right now because you’re making him feel  so good : and that’s all that matters. He's so selfish, focusing only on his own pleasure as he splits you in two in the palm of his hands, baby must be stretching so well to fit him all in.

“If only you were— were this good all the time.” He finishes his thought and half laughs, but it soon turns into a low moan when the toy clenches around him, shaking and shivering down his mean big brother cock for him to enjoy. “It’s like y’were made for this—” He continues to babble, huffing against his desk while his thighs shake with you, his tummy tight with lust when he imagines that you might already be close from his harassment, like you were in the room with him. And he  almost  wants to let you cum, only because he’s too selfish to pass up the opportunity of feeling you convulse on his cock. But he’s so close too, and he smiles with an offer you’ve got no way of reciprocating. “Wanna see who cums first?”

You have   been  such a good girl  for him tonight, haven’t you? Allowed him to inflict such lewd acts on you, and not only that, but you’ve  accepted  his brutish abuse so nicely. Never mind the fact that you quite literally couldn’t fight back, he’s far too pussy drunk and buried too deep in the faux cunt to rationalise with himself, mind empty beyond the need to breed his favourite new toy the way she deserves, snapping his hips into your hole with sloppy precision; he can’t seem to get the right angle, nor can he keep a consistent speed, rendered dumb thanks to the tight squeeze your cunt offers him. “Does it feel good?” He sighs, riling himself up as an orgasm creeps up on him, humouring his fantasies while he’s ball deep inside of you because: why not at this point? “Does big brothers cock feel  sooo good ?” He continues, adopting a babying tone as if you were actually under him right now, nails digging into the split wood of his desk as if it were your hair, or your shoulder, doesn’t matter; he just wants to keep you in place. “Gonna cum for big brother? Make him feel so good too?” He pants, an unavoidable coil tightening in his core as heat flushes to his cheeks, voice barely above a whisper while he fucks himself off. He can only imagine what he must look like right now, bent over his desk and huffing, head pressed against his forearm to hide his face into his desk, pants barely half on or half off, dangling by his knees while his hips swing in the air. And then, he tries to imagine you. How  cute  you’d look right now as he fucks into you with such speed he has to step back a few times to re-position, balls slapping against the magic toy with a resounding  plap!,  sticky sweet slick keeping him connected to you with a soft squish. He only stands up more so that he can continue his delusions, looking down to where his cock meets you cunt and how a ring of cream rests at the base, a sheen coating the rest of his length for him to gawk at.

A mistake, truthfully, but he isn’t complaining too much when he instantly shoots a load inside of the toy, shoving his cock as deep as possible into the tiny hole stretched to fit him so he can properly sow his seed, stake his claim all over your insides with thick white ropes. Mark you as:  Big Brother’s . It doesn’t so much as catch him by surprise as it becomes immediately expected, face all scrunched up in rotten pleasure for the accidental creampie, a strangled  sis  caught in his throat before moans tumble, followed by breathy laughter and sighs. He doesn’t stop thrusting his hips forward, riding his orgasm out by riding you, inadvertently fucking his cum deeper into the toy and  keeping it there , lazily tugging the toy up and down his still hard cock until he’s sure he’s made you’ve milked every last drop he has for you.

He only realises that he’s neglected to let you cum as he’s pulling out,  slowly  removing his cock from the toy with a wince, watching with genuine interest as drops of seed dribble out and over his spent cock. Serves you right for dating Sam when big brother has been right here this whole time, waiting to have you submit to his cock. He laughs, a sinister smirk with knowing that you must be  so frustrated  to be left high and dry like that, to no longer even appreciate the feeling of fullness as he twists the toy in his hand so that he can assess the damage, gently pulling the folds apart so he can watch more of his cum seep out. A deep urge to eat you clean rises to his tongue when he inspects your hole, but he bites it back, tells himself that there’s more satisfaction in leaving you to deal with the consequences of your actions than to reinforce your bad behaviour behind a tongue flat against your slit. That, and he’d hate to reward you and have you know that you’ve given him the best orgasm of his life; and you didn’t even have to do anything but lay there! He’s treated you well enough, he decides, dropping the toy on his desk for him to gape at lovingly.

He sits there for a few seconds, awaiting the wash of clarity over his system to come, but when it doesn’t he simply smiles. “Fuck.” He finally sighs, and it’s a confession of sorts. Of what he doesn’t have much time to figure out, seeing as his phone soon vibrates next to him, a flash of a notification on the screen. It takes him a moment to get to it, because he’s too busy admiring how messy he’s made your pretty princess parts, smearing big brothers cum all over the slit with his thumb just because he can. But he gives in to curiosity once he’s satisfied with painting, unlocking his phone only to be greeted by your name, or the one he’s so fondly given you.

Brat: Can you come help me sebby?

A loud bark of laughter rises in his chest, throwing his head back in the gratification you’ve so kindly offered him. You can handle a little more teasing, right? It’s only fair, seeing as this is the first time he’s fully bitten back at you.

Sebastian: No, I’m busy.

And it’s not even a lie, his thumb gliding easily over the faux clit to ruin you some more, a punishment for distracting him from his afterglow. He almost gets to forget about you before you draw his attention again, another vibration from his phone that reads:

Brat: It’s serious, please!

Sebastian: … Where are you?

It’s a stupid question, he knows, but he wants to make you  really  suffer. It’s not often you need his help, and he’d be a liar if he said it doesn’t feel nice to be relied on by you like this. All you need is him, right? Need big brother to come make you feel all better, yeah? Or maybe that’s just his cock talking, jerking at the thought of you relying on him for  more , needing him to help finish you off because you’re too fucked dumb on big brothers cock to function. He’s got half a mind to walk up to your room and fuck you for real, help you finish that way. Would you try to kick him off with his cock womb deep, tears streaming down your pretty face, or would you sob from pleasure, begging big brother for more, because you’re  so close  and you’d take  anything  at this point?

Brat: My room, please hurry.!

Definitely more his cock, twitching back to life with the promise of being allowed entry into your sacred room,  your hiding place . He locks his phone and throws it to his bed, tucking his stained cock back into his pants and pulling his skinny jeans back up, neglecting to zip in his rush to be at your side;  thankful . You should be thankful he’s even giving you the time of day, seeing as you’ve already exhausted your usefulness to him for tonight. Cock spent and hole used, what more could you give him? Regardless, he’s more curious than he is spiteful right now. Wants to see what you look like after taking his cock, and if it matches his thoughts. Without much more  convincing, he tucks the toy into his hoodie pocket, confident that you’ll somehow find the evidence of his crime if he doesn’t stash it close to him at all times. He can easily clean his hoodie of cum later, but he can’t face the ramifications of mistreating you in such a deplorable fashion; not now, not ever. His little secret, yeah?

But his chest tightens as he runs up the stairs, breath caught in his throat as he stands outside your room and knocks. Anxious? He can’t figure out what for. This is everything he’s been wanting and more, and when you usher him inside with a panicked voice, he thinks he might have taken things a bit too far; protectiveness surging past his lungs and heart, rising up in a breathy “What’s wrong?” as if he doesn’t know damn well why you sound so confused right now. But that big brother attitude doesn’t last for long, ignored the minute his eyes find yours, taking in the sight of you clutching at your sheets as if you were in pain, legs crossed and covered, like you’re  hiding  from him. And  oh  it feels good to be preying on you like this, he has to fight the urge to smile at the pathetic pose you take for him, all pliant and submissive and seeking  his  help. He doesn't miss the way your nipples poke through your little shirt, or how you sweat from head to toe; working out? And his imagination didn’t do you any justice, seeing you cower in front of him like this as your legs rub together is a wet dream come true. He’s definitely hard again, keeping both hands in his pocket and pushing it down to hopefully hide his embarrassment from your eyes as you shiver before him. He watches as you automatically reach out for him, your mouth opening as if you were going to say something and—

“I—  Ah! ”

Instinctively, his fingers dip into the toy the moment you try to communicate with him, surprising even him when you gasp at the slender prodding against your insides. If you say anything resembling coherent he doesn't hear it, zoning out as he zeros in on your tits, mouth watering at the sight alone. He wants to suck on them, curling his finger inside of you in response to your unknown teasing, a declaration of want to own every part of you. At least now he knows that the toy is  actually magic , unquestionably linked to your sopping wet cunt with how you’re currently reacting to his touch. The way you shake as his finger pad circles your entrance, gliding with the amount of cum leaking from it—and by extension  dirtying your bed sheets at this very moment —and how you bite your lip so cutely when he lets its dip further into the hole again, staring directly at you with concentration to commit every detail of you to memory for tonight,  almost  moaning at the sight of you squeezing your eyes shut to avoid his dumb gaze, how pretty you look with your brows all furrowed and hand hiding your cute little sounds.

All you’ve done is convinced him that he needs to fuck you for real, and  soon . Twisting the single finger buried knuckle deep in the toy around, exploring your pretty little cunt with precision. Like he already knows all your sweet spots given the reactions you’re offering him; or maybe that’s because he’s already fucked you close to completion already, fingering you to the cusp again as he stands awkwardly hiding his hard on in your room.

“What— Uh, what’s wrong?” He clears his throat, but still his voice is dry and  needy , a hidden deep want for you lacing the words as you squirm and sob on your sheets. For  him . It’s a bit weird that he’s waited so long to ask you, he thinks, but you also seem to be a bit too distracted to notice as he introduces a second finger to the puffy toy in his pocket, pushing in instantly and easily from the fluids leaking from your hole, leaving you unable to talk once more. “Are you okay?” He gasps,  knows  that you aren’t, fuck,  look at you ; but he has to ask to keep up his facade. Wants to pretend he doesn’t know why you’re struggle to do anything other than babble before him as a means to bully you some more.  It’s your fault , maybe if you weren’t so fucking  cute  when crying then he’d move on, but your tear stained cheeks coax him to continue, scissoring his long fingers inside your hole with eagerness, like doing so would make you feel better.

And it would, and he  wants to see it , but the second he begins to slowly pump his scissoring in and out of your greedy cunt you urge him to leave. A high pitched whine of  go away!  While you bury your face in the sheets, folding in on yourself—fucking  pretty , by the way—as he assumes you’re right on the edge is enough for him. Your hidden face providing him the space to smile down at you, but it’s loving. Adoration, even. Can’t quite believe just how pretty you are when you’re rendered useless on his hand like this, and he promises himself as he turns to leave to have you act so sweetly with him the next time you try to annoy him. This is the little sister he’s always wanted, and if you play nice for him, he’ll even call you as such to your face.

“Okay.” He simply leaves you with, all breathy and empty as he exits your room, slamming the door shut only because he’s in a rush to rest his back against the same door to pull his cock out, still fingering your pretty pussy in his pocket and listening out for your cute moans to soon fill your room. Another round wouldn’t hurt, especially when you start to whimper his name so  prettily  like that, right?

[creepypso]

Hii :D

Yeess I'm not dead!! I somehow survived the year and during it I kinda realized that social media is quite... exhausting.. so I stepped away from the pressure of constantly having to create stuff for a bit.

I think I can come back now but still need to think how I'm going to change some things around here to make the hobby of posting more fun for me again!

I haven't drawn that much but I have a few things :3 For example my little vampire wasp pilot boy <3 I designed him around 2 years ago for Halloween and drew him this year again

I should have my old written down ideas for him somewhere.

[olderthannetfic]

Nearly 75% of fic on AO3 has less than 5 reader comments. Can we please acknowledge that lack of engagement in a positive fashion is the norm in fandom and that writers are expected to work for nothing in return yet readers are allowed to be entitled?

The source of my number

https://www.tumblr.com/transholmes/738776926733336576/and-even-those-numbers-on-the-lower-end-are

--

Hahahahaha.

Oh, anon.

Okay, first of all, I just posted a bunch of graphs showing exactly this, so not only am I well aware of it, but you also clearly don't read my tumblr much and are just here because some friend of yours is upset that I responded negatively to them about their dumb bookmarking opinions.

Second and more importantly...

No, no one is expected to do anything.

That's crazypants influencer talk where you think your hobbies are jobs that you have no choice about doing.

I suppose I do expect fans to have something at least marginally worthwhile to say—or else I'll block them for being whiny little bitches who make my day dumber as well as less amusing.

But mostly, what I expect is that people will do hobbies because they are fun. If I ever decide that writing fic is too boring, I will stop.

I write because it's fun.

I write original work for money too, and if you want to read that, you're going to have to pay Amazon your cold, hard cash. But I still do it because I enjoy the actual act of writing... at least a lot of the time.

What I see in the bookmark boo-hooing is a bunch of people who haven't noticed the last eighty thousand rounds of this same dumb wank and who not only expect to get the last word but expect that somehow I'm going to signal boost it on my tumblr as that... a tumblr known for contentious debates and nobody ever getting the last word till everyone's exhausted and never wants to hear about paper plates or beans again.

I also see that some of the thinnest-skinned people have fic patreons.

Now, I chose not to bring this up before because it sounds a bit below the belt in that "And thus you're morally impure and thus I can ignore your argument" way... But it's a consistent pattern in these conversations over time, and I do think it's relevant. The biggest sensitive babies are always the ones most afraid of bad reviews but also low engagement, and I think it's because they're caught in some half-pro, half-not limbo where they want the best of both worlds but keep getting the worst of both.

If you behave like a professional who is owed compensation, you can expect a more professional style of response to your work.

And what does the pro world look like? Radio silence. The occasional harsh review. Nobody caring why you wanted to write X or why you couldn't finish Y on time.

If you're here to socialize, you should look for a beta or a couple of good friends who like your blorbos and your style of fic, and then you can squee together about what you've written. It may not come in the form of visible AO3 comments. It may be in private chat.

In some cases, it may just be friends you can talk to about your writing but who aren't actually going to read it. I have plenty of friends who read different things than what I write.

That's what socializing and hobbies look like, dude.

It's fine to point out that many writers do get discouraged by low comment counts and then stop, so if I, as a reader in a fandom, want more, it behooves me to befriend writers and make them feel good.

But at the same time, writers get discouraged or move on to the next fandom all the time for all kinds of reasons. If the critical mass and the zeitgeist aren't there, then they aren't.

Do your hobbies for reasons internal to you.

If the main point is external validation, get into BDSM and find someone excited to indulge your praise kink. It will work a lot better than chasing fame via art.

[i9messi]

Training session — Pablo Gavi

Training at home and doing exercise with your boyfriend was a good idea. But you’re too provocative and he is too temperamental.

word count - 657

warning - some insinuation and teasing, but this is safe for everyone guys!!

gavi's masterlist

You have started doing exercise just a few minutes ago. Pablo’s face usually grimaced when he didn’t like something, and in this case, he didn’t like to do exercise. According to him, it was one thing to run and train to play football and quite another thing to work out to strengthen his muscles.

You saw Gavi lift a weight with one of his arms and you laughed, while he looked at you.

"Is that the best you can do, amor?"

He completely ignored you, not before rolling his eyes and continuing with his famous angry face.

Pablo kept lifting the weight with his other arm, while you ran on the treadmill. Sweat poured down your forehead and you slowed down a bit, still watching your boyfriend work out. Pablo was handsome and did not need to work out to be even more handsome, you liked the way he was. However, you had told him that you were going to do some exercise and since he wanted to spend time with you, he told you that he would also accompany you.

Well, he was probably regretting it now.

Your favorite hobby was to make him angry. Just as he got angry during the matches, he also got angry when you told him something he didn't like. Pablo could get angry at anything, with that childish attitude that made you laugh. And at the time, you liked to laugh at how little tolerance he had for exercise.

"Are you that red because you’re out of breath?"

"Cállate."

"Shut up? Am I making you angry?"

He didn't answer. You spent good minutes running. However, when you finished, you got off the treadmill and while he was also changing exercise, you drank water. Pablo started doing some push-ups, but after a few, he got tired and sat on the floor. He was exhausted, after just fifteen minutes of training.

"Could you pass me the bottle, please?"

"Are you very tired, love?" you joked, getting a whimper from him.

You came over and passed the water to him. While he was hydrating, you started to do squats. Your boyfriend’s eyes did not take long to move to your ass. Through the mirror of the room you could see the way he looked at you. Despite being exhausted, Gavi still had time to look at you as if you were the last drop of water in the desert.

"Move your eyes away, Pablo."

"Why? You’re my girlfriend and you look good, as always."

You laughed and continued to do your squats. Pablo kept himself on the floor. Once you finished and before he got even angrier, you came over and left a kiss on his lips.

"You’re adorable when you’re mad," you said, cupping his cheeks and squishing them together. You had to resist the urge to kiss him again. Gavi looked at you with those brown eyes you loved and with a pot in his mouth.

"Stop making fun of me."

"I can't promise that."

Pablo rolled his eyes, "You're evil, you know?"

"I love you, you know?"

Even with those little comments and teasing, Gavi knew you loved him.

"I do. Because I love you too."

You smiled at him, "Well, let's keep doing exercise."

"Nah, I'm done."

You laughed.

"Really? Pablo Gavi, it's only been thirteen minutes and you're done?"

He shook his shoulders, like it was no big deal. You let out a sigh and pointed to some weights, "Could you pass me those weights, then?"

"This ones?"

"Yeah, I’m not a wimp like others."

Pablo passed you the weights and you kept training. He looked at you, agitated and with sweating on his forehead. You spent a good time training, until you finished your routine. You were both sweaty, and an idea crossed your mind.

"Elongate and then we bathe together?"

Pablo's face lit up with a sassy smile.

Now, he really liked working out with you.

[lilac-den]

Can we get a snippet of Sylphina regarding a gentle MC during their times in the forest?

A.K.A: Sylphina's bonding time with wet cat MC.

"[Name], you don't have to rush your recovery."

"With all due respect, I'm getting bored out of my mind just lying in the log, Syl."

Sylphina sighs as the Wanderer - a title that is now slapped onto the newcomer of her world - proceeds to try their third attempt in using their legs. It's only been less than 3 days since she found them awake and since then, the process has been going smoother than she thought.

Seeing how hard the Wanderer is trying to recover, with hands pressing against the trunk of a tree and feet shuffling in an effort to walk at least a lap around the large oak, she would describe the scene similar to a baby deer learning to walk after it's born.

When the Wanderer nearly slips, Sylphina reaches out with open arms. But they regain themselves, holding a hand out to stop her.

"I'm fine." They say, their voice strained with exhaustion.

"You're recovering much faster than most prophets already, [Name]." She reaches out again. "Let me help."

She places a hand on their bicep and [Name] flinches. Sylphina pulls back.

"I'm sorry," she starts, "are you alright?"

"No, I'm fine." [Name] sighs out a heavy breath, shakier than earlier. "Sorry, I...I just..."

Sylphina eyes them with concern. This hasn't been the first time [Name] has struggled to explain something, she suspects, related to the sort of life [Name] had. Sylphina hadn't touched them often, but even the lightest brush has left the Wanderer flinching or jerking back, like they're afraid of a burn.

The last person Sylphina recalls behaving like this is Enid, the only daughter of the Caespes family.

"Are you afraid of touch by any chance, [Name]?"

"No." The Wanderer answers. Then they frown, brows knitting. "Yes?" They shake their head. "I don't know. I...didn't have time to think about that."

The statement comes out uncertain. It's like the thought never crossed their mind. Sylphina can't help but ask.

"What did you have time for then?"

"You really don't want to know."

The words come out quick and stern. But Sylphina can tell; it's similar to how Maverick tries to downplay on the burden he had to bear when he first started out as the Duke.

"Not even a hobby?"

"I probably did have one." They pause in their attempts to walk and sighs, leaving one hand against the tree and the other wiping the sweat off their forehead. "Ditch those long time ago. Couldn't afford to waste more time."

"That..." Sylphina rolls her lips together, struggling for a decent enough word other than 'concerning'. "That doesn't seem particularly fun."

[Name] turns their head away from her. "Fun wasn't an option."

A glimpse of the world before. From the little she has heard and learned from the Wanderer, it wasn't a particularly nice place.

She still remembers that wide-eyed expression on the Wanderer's face. She has encountered a couple of prophets before, but they don't have the sort of look that [Name] had.

They were not just bewildered. They were amazed, enchanted and overwhelmed. They look as if it's the first time they have seen a blue sky.

Even recently, at times, Sylphina catches them watching the sunrise and sunset, like a child seeing a beautiful butterfly.

Fun wasn't an option, she hears their words echo at the back of her mind. They turned away but Sylphina can hear it; that hollow tone, a resignated fate.

It lights a fire on her heels. Moving closer, Sylphina proceeds to let the Wanderer's free arm wrap around her shoulder, jerking a response as they turn to her.

"What are you doing?"

"Your world may have been unforgiving," Sylphina tightens her grip on [Name]'s arm and midriff, "but I will not." She angles her head and smiles, watching the dumbfounded look on the Wanderer's face. "Let me help you. Please."

Ever since the Wanderer transmigrated here, Sylphina has seen harsh faces on them; tight-lipped responses, guarded expressions and distant interactions.

Yet here, under the glow of the afternoon sun, she sees a gaze much like how she had been years ago.

It's something raw and bruised. A hurt that is still there, under the shell that is holding on to keep everything together.

Then the Wanderer lowers their head, silent. Sylphina opens her mouth to ask, but the Wanderer beats her to it.

"Thank you."

The voice is said softly, one that Sylphina has to strain her ears to hear it. She smiles. She would pat them on the head if she could.

"It's no problem." Sylphina starts making the first step, guiding [Name] to the place where they must rest their body again. "Besides, how long do you honestly think it'll take for you to walk back before dinner? Certainly not on time."

"Hey, come on, crawling is a way too."

"Ah yes, I'm sure it's proper to eat with the entire front covered in dirt, grass and what have you."

A laugh comes out of [Name]. It isn't as joyful or loud as one would expect, but it is a start.

In her mind, Sylphina is already recalling what she could show [Name] in her county.

If fun hadn't been an option before, it shall be here for them. At least with her.

[marszzoc]

18.07.24 | sunny’s scrapbooking

. ° ₊* ♡ ↪︎ i wanted to feel like one of those pretty motivated girl bloggers so i’m starting a journal ! a journal blog. a diary .. a diary blog? idk .,

☆⌒*. 🧸 chapter 01 :

౨ৎ‧₊˚ — work has been hectic lately.! today is the first day i haven’t felt horrifically exhausted all day in a while. it has been very nice :) i’m writing this on my break rn for fun because i had nothing better to do than go on tumblr (as usual)

౨ৎ‧₊˚ — working full time is definitely weird and a change from high school. funnily enough though it kind of makes me want to get back into my old art hobbies, since i keep doodling when i get sick of editing invoices ..

౨ৎ‧₊˚ — i’m also honestly not sure WHY i’m doing this project thing since i don’t think anyone will read it and i don’t have much direction for it anyway? just for fun i guess

౨ৎ‧₊˚ — oh ! and my bday is today as of posting this! it is like 1am for me lol… 18!!!!! it is technically the 19th of july but i’m going to pretend it’s still the 18th for the sake of my health as i post this

. ° ₊* 🎧 ↪︎ again & again - the bird and the bee

[defiledtomb]

Ouroboros: The first year in development (+small update!)

On this day, a year from now, I sat in the stark light from my monitors, eyes bloodshot and hands trembling; and I clicked the post button. I then choked my pc to death and ran away screaming, scrambling into the corner of the couch on all fours, hissing at every shadow (only one of those statements is a lie).

It was 4 am and I had been scrambling to get the last details of the demo correct, mumbling to myself and reasoning with my dog. I was so happy to be writing again, after years of piddling around with lackluster projects. I never thought Ouro would be welcomed as it was, and to be honest, the fact that it was scared the living shit out of me. After the hype settled, and I sat watching the continuous stream of support that poured my way, I kind of crumbled. There was a long and dirty road of clawing myself out of self-doubt, impostor syndrome and perfectionism. Some part of me knew it was coming, since its very on par with how I am shaped as a person (sopping wet pathetic meow meow), but after climbing many hills on my ongoing healing journey, I felt like I was prepared for it.

Writing Ouroboros went from fun little sidequest to get my mind off becoming a sturdy part of society again (exhausting), to another workload, to form of therapy, then torture and back again. My writing journal is amusing to scroll through:

Things went from bad to...

worse,

until the storm finally weakened. Every entry in my journal from this point gets progressively more hopeful, more resilient against the bad days.

:> This was around the point where I decided I wouldn't give up, come hell or high water. The progress was slow, like bleeding stone and pulling teeth, but it was moving. By the turn of the new year I was battered and bruised, but still hopeful. And I know that this, these emotions that I went through, were way out of proportion for a hobby writing project, but with every ask that came through telling me about your MC's budding journey in Ouro, every gushing emotion you've shared with me, every gleaming piece of art, every kind word; every correcting one, too, this grew to something really precious to me. I wouldn't give it up for anything, even if it feels like I'm barely keeping my head above surface in this terrifying, stormy sea of a life.

I can't wait to see what comes next, even if the road is bumpy. All I know is that I will keep chipping away at this story with everything I got. And all I can say is that I'm so grateful for your continued support and patience, I barely have words for it. You are incredible. Thank you.

Now, enough of my bleeding heart. Get over here! I have some treats to share.

Mainly, it is the little update to the demo that I'd like to share; Idren/Ida's 101. I did my best to finish it today, but I only had an hour or two of effective worktime (excuse: I was outside for most of the day in bloody blizzard and it knocked me on my ass more than I'd like to admit). It is cut off at the different scene transitions, which I will add after I have some time to work on them this saturday. Id's 101 was the most complex out of all of them, so there is still plenty to explore and different outcomes to see. I hope you have fun!

To see it, go through Lena's scene and don't scream -> accept alliance -> visit archives. That will take you to the new content. CW for very emotionally charged arguments and... almost dying.

Play it here. Save often. (or wait until next week as I sadly couldn't finish everything on time for the anniversary) (I have done bare minimum playtesting, but I will fix any gamebreaking errors if there are any, immediately. There shouldn't be any, but you never know.)

A sneakpeek of the short I also will be working on on saturday:

It is sunny on the day of $!{leith}'s funeral. It is not supposed to be sunny. It is supposed to rain on bad days, and the wind is supposed to whip dry leaves into dancing columns. Thunder is supposed to rumble in the distance, and then right near so that the even the windows rattle with trepidation. But it doesn't. The sun lounges calmly on the perfectly still water of Riven's lake, glittering with winking light as the serene waves lick the edge of the populated harbor. There is chatter, too, not the moaning whispers of grieving people. Not a sob to be heard, but the flutter of a laugh and a joyous embrace of lovers right in front of you. 

"People have forgotten, the sacrifice we made." Lyselin stands in full knight-hunter armor beside you, the silver gleaming in the stark light.

And some art of F!Leith that I have started:

♥ That's it. Know that I'm working as hard as I can (both on Ouro, and learning how to balance work around it, lmao.), even if I fall short sometimes, there ain't no quitting. See you soon!

[maislovebot]

Top 10 bsd characters oral scenarios: Francis Scott-Key

Welcome to the chapter of my 4th fav Fitzy:3

Contains: afab reader, no pronouns, fuck me till I forget trope, overstim, they’re married and have a kid, silly, reader is 30-35, some au where reader takes Zelda’s place and their daughter isn’t dead but he’s somehow still attacking the ADA??, idk just imagine he goes against them for a different but still noble reason, domestic, vaginal fingering, praise kink, come eating, overstim, p in v at the end, service top Francis

Everything seemed to be going wrong lately. Your beloved daughter was struggling with her school work, even though Francis had hired the best tutors available. You didn’t mind helping her with her homework, in fact you enjoyed the bonding time, but it was like talking to a wall a majority of the time.

Let’s not even get started on work. While the Guild wasn’t technically your group, you were practically the co-leader, as to be expected of Francis’ wife. Some members were beginning to show some hostility towards Francis, especially one specific farm boy, and it was getting tiring. You knew he wouldn’t ever actually harm Francis, as he was the man in charge of his payroll, but it was still exhausting.

Technically speaking, Francis is powerful enough to just punch John's lights out if he ever became too much of a threat, but you knew Francis couldn’t do that. As vain as he may seem, he is fiercely loyal to any and all members of the Guild, even Lucy who got kicked out some time ago. She was no longer a member, but she was still receiving many of the benefits, along with a new payroll from some coffee shop near the Armed Detective Agency’s office. And if worse comes to worse, she would still be allowed back with open arms if anything were to get too difficult for her, or if she was dealing with an ongoing threat.

Pretty much, she was still a member, but she wasn’t doing any of the dirty work anymore. Francis claimed he simply couldn’t bear to let her go out there all alone, which you understood. Lucy was a delight after all. She was polite, and honestly quite fun to be around. If you were younger, you could see yourself being genuine friends with her. You agreed to continue giving Lucy a payroll, under the condition that if she ever betrayed the Guild, all those remaining assets would be cut off.

To sum it up, things weren’t going very smoothly at the moment. You knew this would all pass once everything with the Armed Detective Agency passed, but as of right now..

You were stressed. Very stressed.

You haven't confided in Francis with your feelings, as you could tell he already had a lot on his plate. If you were stressed, you can’t even fathom how nervous he must be right now. The succession of this mission will result in either prosperity, or the end of the Guild as a whole if he doesn’t play his cards right.

Even among all this stress, Francis still managed to make time for you and your daughter to eat dinner every night at the luxurious dinner table.

“Francis, I’m sorry I didn’t make dinner tonight, I’m incredibly tired. At least the chef is available.” You apologized, as you normally make dinner, even if you don’t need to. He has over thirty-five chefs working under him, it’s a nice hobby though, so you make dinner. Francis says that even if it’s not professional grade, it has a home-esque feeling no other chef has been able to replicate.

“Don’t apologize, dear. Everyone needs a break sometimes.”

Francis brought his hand to your knee, and rubbed circles along it. His hand trailed up a little, just enough to tease, but he quickly pulled away as your daughter bursted through the door, presumably finished with her tutoring.

“Hey, sweetie. Have you finished your homework?”

She nodded boldly.

“Alright..tell me three things you learned. You’re studying ecosystems, correct?”

“Mhm!” She nodded again.

You gave her a look she knew all too well.

“Alright, well then, tell me three things you learned.”

Francis looked at you knowingly, knowing all too well she was having problems processing the information given to her.

“Uhhh..I learned about..precipitation?”

“Wasn’t that last unit?” You chuckled.

She looked to the floor, defeated.

Well, that’s a dead topic.

“Alright. I’ll quiz you again tomorrow, but you better remember something in that big head of yours!” You knocked her head gently and she frowned.

“Alright, I’ll try, I promise!”

As much of a face as you were putting on, you were beyond stressed. You were worried about her test scores. Even if she was only in fifth grade, she is going to a private school. Grades work differently there. Anything below a B- and you legally have to retake the class. What’s even the point of all the other grades, then? you wonder. Private school nonsense, is the answer you come to.

Just as you were about to let out an accidental sigh, you were cut off by the chef walking in with a large tray with dinner on it, along with a dessert (mainly for you and your daughter, as Francis preferred simplicities like tea). Francis, however, noticed your cut off sigh, and raised an eyebrow at you, unbeknownst to you. He decided to put it aside for now, and he looked at the plate of food in front of him, along with the cup of tea that was brought to him while he wasn’t looking.

“This looks good!” Francis looked at your daughter and pet her almost like a dog before grabbing her cheek gently, making her frown.

“Right, doll?” Francis questioned your daughter, obviously teasing her.

“Dad!” She yelled out, “I’m not a little kid anymore! I’m ten!”

He raised his hands in the air.

“Alright, alright. It does look good though right?”

She nodded furiously, before grabbing her fork and digging in enthusiastically. You and Francis chuckled, and when you made eye contact, he made a knowing look to you, before you two were cut off.

Your daughter swallowed her bite of food, holding her pointer finger in the air.

“Yum! Alright, so my friends want to sleepover at their house tonight, if that’s okay with you two.”

You looked at her quizzically.

“Which friends?”

“The two sisters.”

Ah, they were good kids. It was only five pm, and she did have her homework done, even if she didn’t remember any of it. It was also a weekend.

And of course, there was Francis. Considering the looks he was giving you, you could tell he wanted something out of you, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t dying to find out what. You were even rubbing your thighs together once he had teased you earlier.

“Alright. You can. But you have to promise you’ll study at their house.”

Once you agreed, Francis smiled and placed his hand on your knee again, although it was rather innocent this time.

“Yes! I’ll call and let them know!” She ran off to her bedroom, before remembering one vital detail.

“Mom.. can I use your phone to call them?”

And now you and Francis were home alone, the only other company being the housekeepers packing up to return home for the day, and they’d be gone any minute.

You and Francis were going steady, with you straddling atop of him and kissing him deeply, ruffling his well kept hair with your hands. Although it was fairly innocent right now, you couldn’t ignore the strain you could feel against your crotch as you straddled him. Just as he couldn’t ignore how you were grinding up against his erection with each passing moment.

“Please, Francis.” You pulled away from his lips.

“Please what?” He teased.

“Please give me more.”

Francis nodded, and began to fondle your chest, rubbing circles along your nipples, pushing you over so you were now on your back with him above you. He trailed his hand down till he was prodding at your underwear, pulling it aside. You were only in your bra and panties now, and he was only in his button up shirt and boxers. So it wasn’t exactly difficult.

He pushed his middle finger inside your cunt, and he quickly moved his finger up to curl against your g-spot. When he dragged his fingers you trembled slightly and whined, making Francis chuckle.

“Looks like you needed this.”

Francis added another finger and thrusted inside faster, feeling you tighten around him. He smiled at your reactions, and kissed your forehead.

“You look stunning like this.”

He added another finger, and curled his fingers up to your g-spot harsher, and as he fucked you on the majority of his hand. Your eyes rolled back from all the intense feelings and you gripped the bedsheets. You gripped his wrist to keep him in place, aware of how much of a tease he could be at times. Francis chuckled, his voice riveting and vibrating against your skin. You couldn’t hold on anymore, and you let go of his wrist.

“Ah, close—I’m close..”

Francis sped up his movement, using his thumb to press your clit and rub circles against it. You arched your back up into his body and you finally came. The loud cry you let out went right to Francis’ ego and he got even harder than before, continuing to rub along your clit, slowing down his movements with his fingers. Allowing you to calm down from your high. Once your body relaxed and your orgasm died down, he pulled his fingers out of you and he licked his fingers clean before leaning down to kiss you again, making you taste yourself on his tongue.

“God, I can’t get enough of you.” Francis said once he pulled away, looking at your breathless face. Francis began to pull down your underwear, smiling at the small gasp you let out from your sensitivity.

Once he pulled your underwear down he continued feeling up your clit, relishing in the way you whined into his mouth as he kissed you. He needed this so bad. He was so tired, and you were proving to be a perfect stress reliever, even if he wasn’t getting all that much stimulation. He reached behind your back with his free hand and undid your bra, pulling it off your shoulders. You turned your head away from him, feeling a little shy. Which Francis wasn’t having at all. He gripped your chin with his dominant hand and looked into your eyes and kissing you yet again.

You were great at comforting him, but he was growing desperate for something that would help the ache on his hard on, so he straddled your thigh and started grinding against it like some teenager. He in turn whined into your mouth and groped you with his free hand. So much was going on at once, all you could do was grip his waist, wrapping your arms around him tenderly.

He was rubbing soft circles into your clit while leaning over you, helping you reach your absolutely ecstatic orgasm, your entire body practically giving out, with the only function left for your body to offer being to arch your back into him. The arching of your back brought your chest closer to him, and he almost instantly began licking at your chest at the opportunity.

It felt amazing, but it sent a wave of shock down your body and you jolted your back down into the bed, forcing his lips to detach from your chest.

“Are you okay?” He asked, looking up at your face with worry and regret covering his eyes completely, although he still had that iconic smile on his face

“No—no, it feels great, I’m just sensitive there as is, you going at it right after I come is..” You weakly got out, hoping that despite your underwhelming, tired tone you would get your point across.

That reassurance went straight to his ego, resulting in an aroused jolt (as if he wasn’t already painfully hard) on his end this time.

“Damn—I love you, s-so much—I want to—”

He didn’t even manage to finish his sentence before he was moving himself down between your thighs like a man starved. He tentatively licked at your clit and hole. It hurt a little because it was immediately after your orgasm, but it also felt phenomenal. It felt so good in fact that you rode yourself onto his face briefly before he took a hold on your hips.

“There’s no need to fuck my face, I’ll give you everything you want.”

And oh God did he keep his promise. He noticed how you were desperate for more tension, and pressed his tongue inside your hole as much as he was physically capable, stretching it out as far as he could reach. His thrusts with his tongue were emphasized by the way he tightened his grip on your hips, as he pulled your pussy onto his face as much as possible. Your legs were spread pretty far, considering how his head was separating your thighs, but it soon didn’t matter as you simply wrapped your thighs around his head.

You bucked your hips into his face, allowing his tongue to reach even deeper, and you cried out at your own movements. Francis’ thrusts of his tongue were driving you crazy, and you were starting to really forget about all the problems going on.

You didn’t have to worry about dinner right now, or tucking your daughter into bed, work was out of your mind, and all that you had to focus on was the miraculous way Francis worked with his tongue. No more stress today, Francis was going to make sure of that.

Francis was doing wonders with his tongue, kissing your clit whenever you whined particularly loud. He held your hips down with force, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. He kissed and licked at your clit, taking breaks every so often to kiss and nibble your thighs, it was sweet but you were going crazy with the way he’d switch from eating you out like his life depended on it to tenderly kissing your thighs, and in order to lock his head in place you gripped his hair, messing it up more than it already was from his rather stressful day. He throbbed at your actions and began licking and sucking your clit with even more determination. He moved his right hand up and put two fingers inside of you, curling them towards your g-spot, making you let out a loud whine and finally come all over his face.

You breathed heavily and slowly loosened the grip on his hair before letting go entirely, resting your arms on the bed.

Francis was known for being a man with a lot of self control, but he was absolutely desperate at this point and saved no time in kissing you quickly before pulling his pants down and lining himself up with your currently recovering heat.

“Wait.. Francis, I gotta recover.”

“Please, Dear. You can handle just a little more, just for me right?”

You nodded, unable to resist him. He treated you so well, he should get what he wants as soon as possible, right? You pulled him down by the shoulders and unbuttoned his dress shirt, his tie already long gone. By the time you were done taking off his shirt, he was already halfway inside of you, making you whine and tremble, and the buttons more difficult to undo.

Francis asked if you could handle a ‘little more’, but by the time he was done you were practically passed out. He went at it for such a longtime, you distinctly remember seeing white everytime you came. It was a strangely comforting feeling to fall asleep to. It almost felt airy, despite the aching pain in your hips from him gripping them so hard as he thrust himself into you. It felt like you were going to some second heaven, and it made you fall asleep with a clear head.

You fell asleep in Francis’ arms, holding him tight as he rested his head on yours, not having a care in the world.

You fell asleep with a smile on your face.

Wc - 2.6k

Omg we’re in top three territory now!! Ango will be next:)

[iravaid]

🎮🩹🩸💯🎄---for Mr Tommy Riley (yes, I consider him your oc) (yes, I picked the Christmas tree on purpose mwah 🫰)

(from this meme)

Heehee hii womby!! Snatching Thomas E. Riley from Lapham's cold, dead hands after Szilvi's oviraptor attack squad is done with him. I'm so happy you asked heehee

(and oh, so you're evil? You're evil, now? you're sick and twisted and evil?)

🎮 VIDEO GAME CONTROLLER — what are three of your oc's favorite hobbies?

Being a munch Although it was initially going to be his career (tattoo artist Tommy-truthers make some noise), I can see Tommy enjoying art as a hobby and way to relax/clear his head. He never used to draw a lot of people before, focusing instead on other popular subjects for tattoo designs such as ships and snakes and tigers. But his newer sketchbooks feature a lot more of Beth and Joseph, with a few of Simon and his mum interspersed between his studies of household items and appliances.

Tommy is a Man U fan, as is family tradition. I count football fanaticism as a hobby because have you seen these people. Do you understand the dedication to know so much about all those balls and points and such? Dear god. Tommy, Simon, and Beth on footie nights out were terrifying concepts, many Chelsea fans mauled. Sad!

It mightn't be strictly a hobby, but I can see Tommy redirecting any pent up energy towards making small renovations in his home/his mum's home, or even woodworking and making things like a jewellery box for Beth, or little carved nativity scene for Joseph's nursery class. Man works with his hands and his thoughts can get a bit much at times, so may as well redirect towards something productive, as he's been taught (even if this does encroach into dysfunction territor when he's working to exhaustion so he doesn't dream when he finally sleeps).

🩹 ADHESIVE BANDAGE — does your oc have any physical and/or mental disabilities?

I can see Tommy having chronic pain from his back injury and the resultant muscle strain and poor healing that came of it. Nothing a couple heat pads and, uh, working a labour intensive job can't fix...

Between drug addiction and childhood trauma, it's not out of the picture for Tommy to also have developed PTSD/CPTSD from his experiences. For a myriad of reasons (potential access to counselling, access to familial support, not being autistic, not being in the military) it's not as extreme as Simon's, and so his emotional intelligence isn't as stunted, but he's still very much living with the effects of being physically and verbally abused as a child, as well as being addicted to opiates in the past, far into adulthood. Again, has better tools to cope with it, but Tommy isn't perfect, and I can see most of his symptoms manifesting in fawning responses than Simon's fight.

Tommy also has leanings towards depression, and there are times when his mental health declines to the point of it being disabling. I don't see him being diagnosed with depression, nor complex PTSD, as the NHS mental health services are in fucking shambles and some doctors mightn't even recognise the latter in his time.

🩸 DROP OF BLOOD — what is your oc's blood type?

So. I don't have a clear answer to this, because I need to know what Simon's blood type is, and it's not listed anywhere. I think there is a fun off-stage/underlying tragedy in Simon and Tommy having incompatible blood types, in that even if Simon had gotten to the flat in time, he wouldn't have been able to 'save' Tommy via donating blood. Something something, the nature of tragedy so deeply set in Ghost's being that it's biological.

Perhaps it's campy, perhaps it's too much, but whatever‼️my oc now.

💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.

TOMMY IS THE YOUNGER BROTHER! The wiki is LYING the comics confirm so here:

Tommy is 6'2" and lanky as anything, and unless his brother is on leave, he tends to be the tallest person in the room, bless. Additionally, I can see Tommy having insane forearm and grip strength just from being a tradesman for the better guts of a decade.

Some people have noticed, but Tommy doesn't drink alcohol at all in 'I Wait For You', which is on purpose. He's chosen not to drink, in spite of Britain's heavy drinking culture, as a means of preventing any reliance/gateways, as well as the fact that he doesn't like getting drunk, anyways, primarily because of bad memories of his father after one too many drinks.

🎄 CHRISTMAS TREE — what is your oc's favorite holiday?

Of course it's christmghjgkfgwlisfhdn-

(jokes aside I can see Tommy not having a favourite holiday until he's an adult and meets Beth and falls in love with her, and they eventually have a family together. Then his favourite holiday becomes Mother's Day.)

Augh thank you for the ask :'D It reminded me i have very big feelings about Tommy Riley and his everything, and now my chest hurts heehee

[townofcadence]

I'm really grateful for the people who've made this space feel so amazing and fun to be a part of. Who've interacted and reach out and talk to me and make me feel like they want me around.

For a while when I first got back on tumblr, it was really hard; I had a few people who interacted with me before follow me to this OC blog, but I was pretty much starting fresh. I struggle a lot with my depression and anxiety and even just the usual insecurities, on top of a handful of other chronic health illnesses that make things really hard and painful in general. And for a long while, I was fighting the constant impulse to stop bothering and just leave tumblr again. It wasn't anyone's fault, mind you! I was just painfully lonely and struggling to feel connected or interesting enough or a good enough writer. When I started out, I had many interactions die very quickly without a word after a reply or two, both ooc and ic. All of that is fine to a degree, because tumblr isn't life, it's a hobby, and i totally get things like neurodivergence, exhaustion, forgetfulness, health, work, or anything else that really can impact being available and interaction! But the volume of times it happened was enough I started wondering if it was me, because there was a pattern that was widespread. I thought maybe I was doing something wrong. That maybe there was a reason, and maybe I wasn't worth talking to or playing with? I know I can come on strong, and be very overaffectionate, which doesn't always resonate with people, or might be too much and offputting. Which isn't indicative of anyone. But it's another way I sometimes can be a problem. So my brain started using my bullshit mental health against me. I did really start getting in my own head and letting the worries kinda eat at me to the point of feeling like vanishing wouldn't change anything at all. The worries are still there of course, but I feel like I have made some changes for my health, and quite a few friends and connections, and that make it easier not to listen to them. I feel a lot more connected! There's more back and forth. I have so many two way streets, which I really do think is where friendships get made, because I feel like people want to talk to me as much as I do them. I can reply to things and have a short talk, or we can chatter in rp tags, or even in IMs and stuff! And I separated from the spaces that made me feel I didn't belong, or stopped putting my energy where it wasn't valued, since I already have such a limited supply. I've also made some changes in real life that haven't fixed things for me, but have helped me improve in incremental ways and I think that's helping too. But honestly, I love seeing others on my dash and sending them things, and learning about their muses, and I love that people seem interested in mine too. I can have extensive conversations with a a lot of you at our own leisure. I feel like people at least want to write with me, even if I still don't always like the quality of my responses or think they're the best they could be. But we're still writing and making stories and even if not every reply is perfect, the important thing is we get to build those connections and have those moments that become a part of our muses history together! I love seeing them become friends or fight or bond in all the ways they do! I love getting to see everyone's creativity and the amazing things they make! I'm kinda just rambling to ramble, but the people here mean a lot to me and I just-- I'm here because of you guys, and I'm happy I am, and I care you very very much. I love you! And you have made me being here a very joyful thing that I look forward to each and every day! Each and every reply!! Thank you so much <3

[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐇𝐔𝐈𝐙𝐎𝐓𝐋 - 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟔

Summary: When Y/N needs help on a hunt, she doesn't expect Bobby to send Dean Winchester to her. Now the two must work together to solve the case and Dean has to deal with Y/N's sarcastic and biting personality, that maybe he likes a little too much.

Pairing: Dean × F!Reader

Warnings: none, i think. Just some kissing and a mention of sex

Word count: 1657

Series

"I'll have it engraved on my tombstone" she joked, referring to Dean's words, offering him a hand to hold on to pull himself up. Then she went back to hugging her other arm to her chest.

The leather of her jacket was torn, her shirt was stained with blood and not from the monster she just killed.

"Are you okay?" They they both asked at the same time.

"Well, I'm fine, thanks for asking!" a voice exclaimed from behind them, before either of them had a chance to answer. Michael, now walking towards them, didn't seem to have a single scratch but looked kinda upset.

Dean laughed at the sight of the shocked but visibly pleased to be alive man as he shrugged off the beast's slobber in disgust.

"We'd better bring him home." suggested Dean playing with the dog-like head on the ground, rolling it under the sole of his boot, just as if it was a soccer ball.

They burned the second body too and got in the Impala again, leaving behind the silent lake and the wood where only the sound of nocturnal birds could be heard.

During the journey almost no one spoke, probably too tired to say anything. A song on the radio kept him company on the way.

"There we go." Dean said as he parked and the three got out of the car.

"What will you do now?" Y/N asked Michael.

"What do you mean?" He said frowning, probably wondering what was yet to happen to him after everything he'd been through over the past few days.

"You know, many people become hunters after finding out the existence of the supernatural world." Dean explained.

Michael watched the two as they exchanged a knowing glance and burst out laughing. They were making fun of him.

Michael sighed. "I can't believe it's really all over. Thank you guys." For the first time in days he seemed really calm.

"Don't worry, that's what we do." Dean said before gasping in surprise when the man hugged him. "God, I'm so glad to be alive." He mumbled when Dean patted him on his back, before walking over to Y/N and extending his hand. It was probably some kind of peace sign and maybe he was even trying to apologize for running off and putting everyone in danger.

"Thank you for saving my life." Michael said as she grabbed his hand, shaking it.

"Hey, I almost died to save your ass, you don't even hug me?"

"I don't know if I can, you still scare the shit outta me." He laughed as she pulled his hand towards her and wrapped the man in a quick hug. This time it was the man to be surprised.

"Take care." She added before he walked towards his house and waved at them with his hand when he reached the threshold.

"Aw, you will miss our new little friend, isn't it?" Dean joked as they got back into the car.

“Oh, shut up." She rolled her eyes. Dean glanced at her hiding an amused smile. Annoying her would always be his favorite hobby.

"Let's go back to the motel" She murmured, exhausted, leaning her head on the seat and closing her eyes.

Dean and Y/N soon returned to the motel, more tired than ever. The only thing their eyes could see at that moment was the only bed in the center of the room, the one they had slept on for an entire week.

"That's why the dogotter killed those people," Dean thought out loud, as he slipped off his jacket and abandoned it on a chair. "He wanted to protect his.. son. Or daughter maybe. I'm not sure, I paid no attention to their sexual attributes as they tried to eat me alive."

"Very noble for a monster," Y/N joked, sitting down in front of the table in the corner of the room, pulling her emergency kit out of her bag.

"Let me help you." Dean said sitting down next to her. He disinfected the bite on her arm which had now stopped bleeding with hydrogen peroxide and then bandaged the wound. It didn't need stitches and it wasn't too deep, she was lucky.

Dean felt watched as he worked on her arm but never looked up to see if he met the girl's gaze. He decided that he would just enjoy the silence that had fallen between them.

"Thanks," Y/N murmured when he finished.

"Anytime" he replied, glancing at her quickly, starting to get up and then being pushed back down by the girl next to him. Her steady hand was on his shoulder.

"Hey, what-" He didn't have time to finish the sentence as she placed her hands on both side of his face and pushed him into a kiss.

Dean really wanted to say "finally" but it would have meant breaking away from her lips, so for once he stayed quiet as he entered his tongue into her mouth and pushed her against the mattress, causing her to end up with her back completely pressed on the bed.

"Dean," she said after a while, probably breaking the kiss when her lungs needed air.

"What?" he asked without moving away from her.

"You smell like shit," she said with a laugh, her lips slightly redder than usual.

"Oh c'mon, do you always have to ruin the best moments?" He said pressing his lips against hers one last time.

"Go to take a shower, I won't sleep next to you if you smell like that." She said as she indicated the door with a nod of her head, then sitting down on the bed to be able to take off her shoes still dirty with damp soil and the creature's blood.

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm not coming with you. I'm too tired to have sex right now. Now go, I promise not to spy on you through the keyhole."

"There's no keyhole on that door, Y/N," he pointed out, now with a slight smirk on his lips.

"And that's why I won't spy," she smiled even more, leaning back on the bed.

Dean shook his head in resignation, taking his things and disappearing into the next room. It wasn't his lucky day.

After some time, when Dean came out of the bathroom half naked, he expected to hear some ironic comment, instead he found Y/N sleeping with her head buried in the pillow and her mouth slightly open.

He couldn't help but smile as he got under the blanket and pushed her body against his with his arm.

It was a good feeling.

"Goodnight sweetheart." He said, sure he didn't wake her up.

"Goodnight love." She replied instead.

The night passed quickly, or at least that was Dean's impression. He was so tired that sleeping until the sun came up felt like closing his eyes for a few minutes. However, he was sure for the whole time they had slept he had kept Y/N's body pressed against him and every time he moved even a few inches, she sought out his body and repositioned herself close to him.

It was nice to see her like this, to see her trust him and let her guard down.

He hadn't had a single nightmare and he liked to think it was thanks to the girl who had slept curled up next to him.

In the morning, they packed their bags, checked that they hadn't left anything in that room, then closed the door behind them and returned the key to the owner of the motel.

Dean shuffled over to the Impala, one bag slung over his shoulder and the other held tightly in his left hand. He opened the trunk and looked around: it was better to make sure there were no people around before opening it.

He arranged the weapons together with the others, abandoned the second bag and then closed the trunk.

"So what now?" Y/N asked walking up to Dean with her hands in the back pockets of her black jeans.

"Now we go get Sammy. And we'll wait until we find another case to solve together. I'm sure Bobby and Sam have found millions already."

"Together?" she asked with a smirk.

"Of course, do you expect to get rid of me that easily? You kissed me first, now you're stuck with me."

She laughed as she slowly walked up to him. "Oh, yeah, I'm sure you didn't like it at all."

Dean captured her lips in a quick kiss, "Honestly? Not really. But we can try again" he replied before leaning towards her again.

When they finally parted, after a few glares from the people passing by, Dean got into the Impala and she into her old pick-up parked next to Baby.

"I'm sure I could beat you!" She said rolling down the window of her car as Dean did the same, alluding to a race to see who could get to Bobby's house first.

"Beat me? Please." Dean laughed as he turned on the radio, started the engine and drove away.

"Hey! I didn't say "go!" the girl yelled with a laugh as she hurried to catch up with him.

Those two really were a weird couple, maybe that was why they worked so well together.

Tags: @eevvvaa @spn730015 @supernatural111222 @youcancallmelily @clairenovakanddeanwinchester @dads-on-a-hunting-trip @3amstillawake @supernaturalmess @marvelandsupernatural @agirlwatchingalotoftvshows @candy-coated-misery0731 @impalaslytherin @rudy-the-winged-wolf @dean-winchester-6767 @samanddeansannoyingsis @roseblue373 @waynes-multiverse @random-spn-fan @xoxokiaraaxoxo

Series: @stitchintimefan @foxxymunson @sagexcandles @deans-spinster-witch @raisinggray @globetrotter28

[teaboot]

15 Questions 15 Mutuals

Tagged by @lost-and-cused 💛

Are you named after anyone? Yes, a musician my mother met in Russia!

When was the last time you cried? Huh. I think like, two months back? Trigun '98 episode 23. If you know you know. (I am wrapping u up in a blanket.)

Do you have kids?  Nope! I think I might like to be a foster parent someday, though, once I have the money and the time do it properly.

Do you use sarcasm a lot? I- huh. I was gonna say yes, but honestly, not much in the last few years? I used to be so snarky and biting, like, all the time. It must have been really exhausting for the people around me. Now I think mostly it's just when I'm venting. Wild!

What sports do you play/have played?  I dunno if it's a sport if I don't compete but I enjoy martial arts! I do BJJ sometimes but I'm not very good at it, it's just for fun. Oh, and I was on a basketball team for a couple years, but I'm 5'3" and still don't know the rules so I think I was mostly just just for the body count, lol

What's the first thing you notice about other people?  Demeanor. Are you calm or tense? Loose or tightly-wound? Are you likely to explode if you encounter a perceived obstacle? Are you agreeable and easygoing? Or are you pent-up and raw and itching for a fight?

God, I don't think people realize how visibly LOUD they are when they're unhappy.

Some people are like music, moving along to their own little beat or tune, and then a heavy, harsh note walks in and you just KNOW they'll fuck up the rhythm if you brush too close. It's wild. Are they aware of it? Do they care? Who knows.

What's your eye colour?  Brown! Sorta like.... hmmmm. #622a0f in the middle, with a darker ring around the outside. (Never did relate to the 'brown eyes are boring' gang, always liked mine too much. Then again, I was the only one in my family with brown eyes, so maybe it was that.)

Scary movies or happy endings? Scary movies WITH happy endings? But no, actually, I hate watching horror movies. I LIKE them, I think a lot of them are very good and it's an underrated genre, I just. Don't enjoy being scared. Or sad.

Any special talents?  I'm an artist- I enjoy watercolor, acrylic, and India ink as painting mediums, I'm rather good at realistic stippling, I'm decent at identifying animal bones, I enjoy sculpting and sewing and needle-felting, I'm finally at a point where I like to read my own writing, I enjoy interior design and have been told I'm good at it, I'm a pretty good cook, and I've been told I'm a decent singer! I can also fold incredibly tiny origami cranes, and pick up on new languages well enough for simple use.

And I be far more proud of any number of these things if I did them a little more often.

As it is, I sleep a lot.

Where were you born? British Columbia, Canada!

What are your hobbies? Lord, too many. I'm actually sewing a new battle jacket right now, and animating a short video. Also writing fan fiction. And reading! And I like to collect antique books and handmade ceramics and theater masks. And go antiquing. And I'm still learning to knit? Hhhhhhhhrrrrnnggfn I wish I could have a year off to just. Do things. I wanna take a pottery class! And do metalwork again!! I used to love making chain jewelry. Oh, I do beadwork sometimes! And paint! And I'm sloooooowly designing a guest room. Bfyvxuhfhgtjggjhgyu

Do you have any pets? Yes! Big baby bird cat. He lives out of the country now, though.

How tall are you? 160cm!

Favourite subject at school?  Art. And Metalwork. And Psychology. And Literary Analysis. (And lunch break.)

Dream job?  Okay so imagine this: There's a VERY rich eccentric hell-bent on accumulating strange art, and by some miracle they are both mentally stable and not a gigantic dickhead. They travel a lot and don't really enjoy socializing so I don't have to kiss their ass.

Twice a month I receive an automatic deposit into my bank account and in return, all they want is a reasonably steady continued production of literally whatever art. Portraits, statues, robotics, ceramics, conceptual shit, costumes, carvings, literally whatever.

And they'll cover educational expenses for it all so I can go back to college and learn screen printing and 3D animation and use the kiln and shit forever and ever, and take up apprenticeships at tattoo parlors and volunteer as a face painter and pick up photography, and just create as much beauty and love and confusion and joy as I possibly can forever and ever and ever until I die.

And I'll have enough money to own my own apartment that I'll paint in all my favourite colors, with murals and everything, and have a cat who I will of course spoil rotten, and maybe adopt a few weird and goofy kids who'll have sleepovers with their friends in the living room and play new bad music that I pretend to hate, and when they fuck up and do stupid shit like kids do, maybe I'll handle it better than my adults did.

And maybe if they like making stuff too, I can make stuff with them. And maybe I'll get to see them do it better than me. And maybe I'll get to see them do everything better than me. And maybe they'll be happier, too.

So, uh. I guess I'd like to be an artist. A sugar baby-artist? Sugar baby artist combo. I'd like to have a patron is what I mean. A sponsor. Yeah

Fifteen Mutuals*: @Melancholysage @Genderfuckedpigeon @Raspbrrytea @Qthewhatever @Sternenhimmel-mond @Mythosandsuch @Anunholymessofagirl @Ifitistobeitisuptous @Here-you-can-read-my-feelings @Meat-puddle @Catgirlwarrior @Rodeokid @Not-fae-no-sir @Inbox847 @Pip-53

*I have no idea if we're all mutuals but take this anyways