#wrote this last night

[thehermitsaltar]

Offering Kurt weed to chill him tf out and hes never done drugs before (cause no one's ever offered him.) And he wants to seem cool (and cause he thinks your hot) so he takes the tiniest little puff and starts coughing his lungs out and you giggle and pat his back and the tiny amount of human contact makes his face heat up. He watches in awe when you take a big hit, watching your throat and chest contract and release. You blow the smoke out into his face and he hates how it smells but a second later he starts to feel a warm buzz around his skin and his mind starts to calm down. He realized that his pathetic hit did nothing and he got more high from you. He flushes and let's himself fall against you,begging for you to do that again. And totally blowing his mind when you shot gun him, he almost creams his pants. Like, seconds away from blowing his load.

[phoebespenglers]

um. poetry. or something

[toyota-supra]

And the bench loves you too

When I meet those who love you Always with a smile on my face I talk with someone pleasant and new And there fills your island in space

Friends, colleagues and every pet The sky and the moon above So glad I am to you have met And so is this one pretty dove

We talk of our favorite things I must admit, some secrets I pry Joyful think of you, flying my wings Then I sit on a bench and I cry

[annieroses-rant]

junioritis

am i doing enough? am i doing it right?

halfway through

the stack of homework i can’t finish tonight

are you still proud of me?

though i’ve fallen from grace

am i still beautiful with all this shit on my face?

do you want more from me

than what i already am?

will you still sit with me if I tell you I can’t?

i waste my time writing this

and feeling like a lost cause

feel like i’m the one booing over all the applause

smart girl

kind girl

“fine” not really fine girl

straight girl

strong girl

do you even try at all girl?

if i live up to what you ask of me

is it something you’d even see

if i could ever do enough

would you give me more, call it “tough love”?

every week feels like a year

and every slumber twenty seconds

blame it on my low attention span

and all my screwy methods

i can never stop trying all the way again

cause i’d lose all my passion and all of my friends

can’t afford to start over

only keep moving on

i seem to run so much

i don’t know what i’m running from

and will the hardships take that from me too?

i’m not living loud enough

so everyone tells me I'm through

something in me says, keep walking

smile as if you're still alive

some fighter spirit keeps me going

maybe soon I'll learn to thrive

and so close to something but so far away

my heart has begged so many people to stay

if i could write a poem called

sorta somewhat like okay

if i could get a streak going

happy day after happy day

but i’m three years into high school

and every day is just the same

i say i’m gonna work hard

and then i play video games

cause i’ll never be the girl everyone wants

so why even try to be something i’m not

i’m sleep deprived with no tears left to cry

and i’m fine for now

but i knew something so profound

and then i promptly forgot

[temporalbystander]

I know it goes beyond saying at this point (and yes I mean beyond and not without) but Union Cross and Dark Road did something so amazing that I don't think I've ever seen pulled off successfully in other games. Making an OC canon.

Now I bring this up because I just got done rewatching some old reaction videos if a let's player who is my gold standard of commentary, voice over and ad libs. Nicob. Just gotten to the part where the darkness reveals itself and my mind flashed forward a bit.

Before I go on did anyone else forget that the Master of Masters used the leaders, specifically Ventus, as sacrificial lambs? The darkness says it picked Ven because that's what it saw in the Book of Prophecies. We later find out that the MoM was well aware someone was watching over his shoulder and write what would eventually screw the darkness over. Part of which involved controlling Ventus.

Anyway my initial point. In most games where you have an OC trying to fit into established canon you get two responses "OMG I'm with all my favourite characters doing amazing stuff!" Or, the one that I'm saddened people experience, "why am I this random no name faceless person? Let me be the hero!" (Not sure if that says something about people with "main character syndrome" or if it's just the difference between liking the characters or the story/violence.)

The kingdom hearts mobile game though? Sidestepped this perfectly. At first it was so far in the past it didn't really matter how canon we were, besides there were a bunch of other characters that we'd never met before that were just rife with new potential theories. But eventually it ends and, having just come off KH3 where Xehanort puts his heart into everyone? The clips off the upcoming dark Road lead everyone to the same conclusion. "Our created character is Xehanort? Wow we screwed up, should never have chosen reincarnation.

Fast forward a couple of months and we are going through Dark Road, rolling our eyes whenever Xehanort brings up memories or lessons from union cross. Like "we get it, we know what you're thinking about, we're having the same thought. This is just like what happened in Union Cross, we did play the same game after all."

And then what happens? We get to the end of the game having been told how empathic Xehanort is the entire time and... Nomura pulls the damn rug out from under us. "Oh don't be silly, you didn't become Xehanort that would be ridiculous. Instead you're just the one raising him on destiny islands and may be important in missing link."

Just like that everyone accepted it. "Oh thank God we aren't Xehanort." "Another KH game it looks so good for mobile!" And none of these reactions, or at least none that I saw, were the incredibly valid "wait. We raised Xehanort? Wow we REALLY screwed something up."

[oraliefathdon4eternalia]

Rayni: Little Miss Neverseen - Chapter 2 (Mar 22 2023)

When Glimmer entered the room, two cloaked figures were curled up together on the gray Neverseen couch, which was dilapidated and falling apart.

"Hello?" she called.

The smaller cloaked figure, whose head was resting on the other's shoulder, looked up, straight at Rayni.

Er, Glimmer.

She still wasn't used to calling herself that.

"Who are you?" the person asked in a hostile voice. A lock of brown hair slipped out of her cloak.

"I'm Glimmer, the new recruit," Glimmer said as confidently as possible.

"Oh!" the other person said. "You're the person Lady Gisela was on about! She said a bunch of vague things about you not being satisfied with the system. I'm Trix, and this is my girlfriend, Umber." He gestured to the brown-haired person curled into him.

Glimmer smiled, relieved. At least one person was being welcoming.

"New recruit, huh?" a deep voice sounded from the corner.

Glimmer jumped. Umber laughed at her derisively.

"Who's there?" Glimmer panicked. Remembering her Flasher ability, she snapped her fingers to illuminate the dark corner.

A scarred person sat at a desk, but Glimmer was too distracted to wonder how he could do anything on a desk in that darkness.

But if she'd wondered, he would've soon answered that question.

"I'm Brant," he said. "And I have my own light tricks."

Brant snapped his fingers and a fire came to life in his palm. Glimmer shivered, thinking what the fire could do to her. Was this what Gisela was talking about when she mentioned the ban on pyrokinesis?

"Oookay," Glimmer said. "Anything else I need to know?"

"My hunger for fire was so great I lit my house on fire while my fiancée was in it. I got all these scars, and she..." He lowered his head. "Well, she died."

Glimmer felt deeply uncomfortable and just stood there, shuffling her feet.

Brant's head snapped up. "That was after I joined the Neverseen. Fintan told me to join this group because it would make my pyrokinesis legal again."

"What happened after you killed your fiancée?" Glimmer asked.

Brant flinched at the word killed.

"I pretended to her parents that I'd gone insane with grief. I feigned coughing, sickness, and inability to do anything. They visit me every year to check on me," he gloated with a grin. "The mother bakes candy for me. Little do they know, I don't spend the rest of the year skulking around that tiny house in sickness. I burn things. I get revenge."

Brant laughed a creepy, maniacal laugh that shook the walls. Glimmer backed away, making a mental note to avoid him.

Something bothered her about the exchange besides the creepiness, but she couldn't figure out what it was, so she turned to Trix and asked: "Are there any other members?"

"Oh, yes," Trix answered. "There are a lot of members, I think. But Lady Gisela prefers to keep information compartmentalized, and there are multiple Neverseen leaders with different plans stretching us in different directions. So I only know three more members besides the leaders. One's name is Ruy - no code name. He's a Psionipath. Another is Gethen - also no code names. Telepath. And Alvar Vacker, Vanisher."

"Okay," Glimmer said, processing. "Can you show me where my dorm is?"

"Sure. Follow me." Trix stood up, and they walked to another narrow hallway, followed by Umber's disapproving gaze.

There were only a few doors in a row, so Glimmer assumed this was a small Neverseen hideout.

Trix showed her a door at the end of the hallway.

"Thanks," Glimmer said, entering.

"No problem. See you around." Trix smiled and left.

It was only when Glimmer closed the door behind her when she finally got what was bugging her about Brant's story.

Fintan recruited him to the Neverseen.

The same Fintan who was kicked off the Council after the ban on pyrokinesis.

Glimmer slumped against the door with the weight of the realization.

Ex-Councillor Fintan was part of the Neverseen.

@winterfireice@rayniiariaa@official-kenralie-fanbase@you-have-been-frizzled @sewersewersewercouch@literaturewithliz

[bun-bun-selfships]

Please know that your f/os don’t mind if you don’t like to be touched. They don’t think you’re depriving them of anything, or being selfish, they know you’re just catering to your own needs and that’s okay. They don’t need to touch you to show affection, they can and will find other ways. They don’t need to touch you to comfort you, they don’t even need to be close, they have other ways of showing you that they’re there for you and have your back.

I know it’s easy to feel like you have to be physical with your partner to be loved, but not with them. They would never want to do something you’re not comfortable with, and if you’re not comfortable with being touched? Then it doesn’t happen

[pls read my dni before interacting]

[excessivelemon]

Mother

Before she was yours, she was her own.

The handkerchief - embroidered so finely in twining paisley - plucked from her sleeve to wipe your nose once wiped tears from a hundred mild heartaches.

The dinner she served each Wednesday was once a recipe she clipped from a catalogue and fought to prepare for the first ever time. Back then, she wasn't sure how much an ounce was in grams, or whether herd were better fresh or dried.

She knows it all now, like she knows the sound of your heartbeat in the dark.

Like she knows that baking soda strips rust marks with a good scrub.

Like she knows your height in centimetres, your dress size, your dreams.

Everything she knows she learned.

Before the creases by her eyes deepened permanently, before the vague pain in her back settled in for good, before she ever thought to meet you.

She lived her whole life n the nothingness of you. She was the child growing, learning. Aging. She was herself.

And when you arrived, squalling, creased as a shar pei pup, she felt the fragmentation of her. From herself to yours.

A possession to take for granted. Appreciated no more than the dry, grey carpet in your childhood bedroom or the way the light came in through the window in the summer.

Things that just were. That would always be.

[whyitsmeagain2]

My fantasy, part two

My tongue is teasing her wetness, she slips out a soft moan. I'm moving my tongue up and down, almost reaching her clit everytime, but just missing by a few millimeters. She's starting to squirm, she needs to feel my tongue on her clit. I ask her what's wrong and she just moves her hips. I slip a finger inside her pussy and ask again what's wrong. She gasps as she feels my finger and tries to move her hands but they're still bound. I slide another finger inside and start the well known "come here" gesture, massaging the right part inside her. She moans and I move my face closer to her pussy again. Her smell is intoxicating. My tongue finds it way back again, but this time it glides over her clit. It seems to be the right spot cause her moans are becoming louder and louder. I pick up the place an intensity of both my tongue and my fingers. I can feel she's getting close. She's squirming more and more and with my remaining hand I press down on her hips so she can't move. I suck on her clit and I start to feel her shaking. Her grip around my fingers is tightening and she screams. It lasts for a while, her hips still bucking under me while I keep her down as good as I can. Her grip on my fingers starts to loosen again. She collapses on the bed and I move up, my face now close to hers. I kiss her passionately, making her taste herself while also letting her feel how wet my beard has gotten. I can feel her smile as we kiss and she regains a bit of control over herself again.

[lilislegacy]

did anyone else ever find it odd how easily zeus offered percy godhood? and how it almost seemed like he secretly wanted percy to accept? well i did, and after thinking long and hard about it…

i don’t think percy understood what turning down godhood really meant

demigods do tasks for the gods because they don’t have to follow any rules. they aren’t controlled by anyone or anything. demigods are a strange hybrid - not god, not human. they are in between the laws of immortal and mortal. they are not supposed to exist. yet they do, which is what makes them so extraordinary.

percy is crazy powerful. of course, there’s the aspect of raw power. he has domain over air (storms/hurricanes), land (earthquakes and volcanic eruptions), and sea (monster waves, tsunamis, floods, basically anything that involves water.) he can control bodily fluids. he has super strength (with one hand, he held up an unconscious annabeth who was being pulled down by both arachne AND the forces of tartarus). he has super speed (he moves faster than bullets in TTC). no matter how badly you hurt him, he automatically heals and regenerates the second he touches water (an ability no other demigod has). he’s an extraordinary swordsman. very skilled in combat and warfare. he’s smart, and thinks of plans quickly. but he also has a great deal of social/poltcial power… i mean, he’s a leader and hero to both the greek and roman camps. if he says “attack,” all demigods, greek or roman, attack. no question. do you have any idea how threatening that is to the olympians? he’s also best friends and has an empathy link with the lord of the wild, which basically means all of nature is by his side too, including all land creatures. he’s also prince of horses, which means pegasi too (both of which are extremely useful in battle). and of course all sea creatures, including the mythical ones like krakens and leviathans. not to mention many of the gods really like him. hermes, hephaestus, athena, aphrodite, and dionysis have all gone out of their way to help him. artemis holds him in high regard, especially since he saved her. apollo literally considers him his friend! and poseidon - his dad, the god who is the biggest threat to zeus - is fiercely protective of him and cares about him a great deal. many minor gods also like him because he demanded them to be given more respect and for their kids to be welcomed at the camps.

percy unknowingly has more power, both physical and social/political, than anyone should ever have. he may have absolutely no idea, but it must scare the living daylights out of zeus. by accepting zeus’s offer to become a god, percy would have submitted himself to the control of zeus. zeus would be his king and ruler. zeus would then have complete control over him.

but percy said no. therefore, percy remains out of zeus’s control.

percy had no idea what he was doing. but thank the gods he made that choice. thank the gods he’s an incredible person. thank the gods percy jackson has no desire for power, because he has more of it than anyone should ever be able to have.

[lazylittledragon]

'i'll just do a couple of doodles of mombin™/platonic stobin parents' nevermind, borderline graphic novel

[sprout-fics]

Neighbors Alpha Ghost except he’s extremely polite for a man who is the biggest scariest alpha you’ve ever met. Alpha Ghost who’s lived beside you for years and has developed a rapport of trust with you, the sweet omega that lives next door. Ghost, who trusts you to watch over his place when he’s deployed and in return he helps you repair the various odds and ends in your place. Ghost who routinely asks you if you need anything from the store, and in return you give him baked sweets to take to base.

Ghost who’s gone for weeks at a time for work and you try not to entertain the idea that he may not come back, that one day you’ll wake up to your landlady emptying out his apartment and learning the hard way that you’ll never see him again. Ghost who always comes back, and feels a warm flush of fondness at the relief on your face when you see him again.

Ghost who once came home to find you cornered in the stairwell by an alpha you’d rejected, your face horrified at the things your would be suitor was snarling at you. Ghost who bodily hauled the smaller alpha down the stairs and threw him into the street with a snarled warning to never return, fangs bared beneath his mask. Ghost who returned to make sure you got home safe, and the next day helped you install a secure deadbolt for your safety.

Ghost who allowed himself a rare encounter that night when you hugged him in thanks, swallowing down tears and apologizing for the hassle. Ghost, who’s thought of the moment ever since, of how nice you smelled, how the feeling of you in his arms felt right.

Ghost, who hears you through the thin wall you two share a few weeks later, crying your eyes out. When you answer his gentle knock your face crumples. You confess that said rotten alpha showed up to your job and made a scene, and you were reluctantly let go because of the disturbance. Ghost, who for all his cold hearted demeanor and apathetic nature, feels only anger when you tell him this. Silently, Ghost vows to track down the fellow and discreetly ensure he’ll never hassle another omega again.

Ghost who stays at your request despite himself, allows you to put on old TV reruns and sniffle into his shoulder before you fall asleep there on the couch. Ghost, who’s instincts swell with pride at this omega who deems him safe enough to let into your den, to keep you safe while you rest against him.

Ghost who hears from you a week later, when you knock on his door embarrassed but standing strong with your fists clenched at your sides. Ghost, who is amused at your demeanor and listens as you tell him you have money for rent and groceries this month, but not for your suppressants. Ghost half expects you to ask for money, but is floored when you instead steel yourself and ask him to help you with your coming heat because you trust him. Ghost who freezes where he stands and finally tells you he’ll consider it, unable to shake your pleased smile for hours afterwards.

Ghost who sits on it for a few days, ignores the possessive, prowling thing in his chest as he weighs his options but agrees to help you. Ghost, who watches Price raise an eyebrow when he puts in for leave- his lieutenant who never seems to stop working, but approves it anyways. Ghost who researches what omegas need during heats, from nesting supplies to physical touch to…everything else and tries to remind himself it’s just a favor. It doesn’t mean anything, even if you asked him out of everyone else you know.

Ghost who gets a text on a lazy Sunday morning and is in your flat five minutes later willing but oddly nervous. He expects to find you in a state of debauchery but instead pads into your bedroom to find you curled under the covers sweating and glassy eyed, still coherent to smile and offer a weary thanks. Ghost who supplies a bag of scent laden clothes that has you curling into his familiar smell with a pleased whine. Ghost who tries his best at making you food while you arrange the clothes into a nest with sluggish limbs.

Ghost, who stiffly sits at your bedside and dabs at your sweaty brow, ignoring the flare of base instinct at the sweet, hypnotic smell of an omega in heat. His omega, his instincts purr. Just not yet. Ghost who cedes to your demands to cuddle, watching you go pliant and soft in his arms with a sigh, drinking in his scent as you drift off to sleep.

Ghost who wakes up hours later to you squirming and whining against him, panting and hazy eyed as the telltale scent of slick clouds his nose and draws an answering, primal growl from deep in his chest. Ghost who, with great restraint and gentleness works to prep you with large, calloused fingers, taking more time that he should just to make sure you’re ready. Ghost who firmly hushes your complaints and instead allows himself the selfish act of being completely involved in you, far beyond that of a clinical touch. Ghost who smears your tears of desperation with his thumb, murmurs a dark and heady “pretty omega” before finally, finally sinking into you.

Ghost, who maneuvers you as he pleases, watching the awareness fade from your eyes only to be replaced by heat-addled lust and your lips begging for more. Ghost who braces his full weight on you and rocks with slow, powerful motions that have you hiccup and writhe under him, pushing back onto his cock. Ghost who’s fangs pop out as he carefully refuses the instinct to bite the gland of the mewling, whimpering omega underneath him, but failing to restrain the instinctual growl of MINE that thunders in his chest.

Ghost who makes you come so slick dribbles down your thighs and you fist the sheets with a whimper of his name. Ghost who coos praises into your ear and grinds his cock into you so your eyes roll back into your head. Ghost who has you come twice more before he finally empties himself into you and silently feels the instinctual hope that it takes. Ghost who has no need to measure his stamina, ready to go again in minutes as you reach blindly for him, presenting oh so prettily for your alpha.

Ghost who takes all the time in the world for the days that follow, allowing himself to cave to the alpha instinct of providing, protecting, caring for the perfect little omega in his care. Ghost who watches you like shark as you fall asleep in the bath, sitting you in his lap after and making you eat before sinking you on his cock again. Ghost who coos at you as you go slack jawed and glassy eyed as he mounts you once more- ruining the sheets he just changed as you gush around him.

Ghost who wakes on the third day sore in all the best ways, noticing the way you cling to him like an octopus as you sleep. Ghost who pets at you fondly and noticed the scent of your heat finally ebbing away, blissfully shortened by his attentions. Ghost who watches your peaceful face and once more purrs happily at the thought that you’re his.

Ghost who can’t help but think about the next time he’s due to rut, about stretching you out on his knot and feeling the sensation of you clench down on him in climax. Ghost who reminds himself that it’s only one thing to look forward to, that courting is a careful process and that you deserve to be treated well in the duration of it. Ghost who now lays a palm on your scent gland and rumbles deep and primal, fulfilled at you being soaked in his scent, warding off any other alphas. Ghost who promises you and himself to do this right, to be the mate you need him to be.

Ghost who drifts back off thinking how beautiful his claiming bite might look against your throat.

[putridcowboy]

the most important step in the hero’s journey is the gay sex

[crybaby-bkg]

I think Deku has a bit of a mean streak, actually. he’s no Bakugou—that’s for sure—but he’s not this innocent, sweet angel baby that the media has painted him out to be. but you only catch it when you least expect it, when you’re pushing his nerves, when the stakes to everything around him are high, when he’s tired of endless sleepless nights and just—snaps.

“Oh?” you go, grin unfurling like some grinch, chin resting on your hands as you leer at him from across his expansive desk. “You’re mean.” your words are teasing, a snarl that curls your mouth up. Deku stutters, eyes going wide, jaw snapping shut in surprise as he tries to think back on how rude he just sounded.

“No, I’m not—I mean, you wouldn’t stop and I just—there’s a lot on my plate right now—and you just—you keep on—I’m not—I’m not mean.” He’s sputtering, hands all over the place, the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose falling even lower with how he jabbers on and on. it’s endearing really, to see how he tries to upkeep his image of being so kind and understanding, even though his nostrils just flared at you. and his eyebrows turned down and he gritted at you, his hands were balled into fists, his words were so nasty, so ugly, so unbecoming for Deku.

you liked it. loved it even—vowed to get him like this every single fucking second that you could.

you pick and poke at him whenever you see him, teasing him and pulling at him. pushing him around even though the hero is so much stronger than you, so much bigger. and he lets you, tries to defend himself but—that’s not what you want. you want the ugliness, the snark, the mean.

he snaps, eventually, when you least expect it. grabs you up in black whip when you go to push him against the wall for the third time in only a minute, his eyes suddenly dark, the aura of the room suddenly charged.

“That’s what I was looking for.” you whisper to him, the grin spreading your face quickly dissipating in only seconds when you become the prey. when you become the one pushed up against the wall with teeth at your neck, a hand in your underwear, bullying your hole with too thick fingers.

“Why do you want me to act like this? Be so mean to you, huh?” he sounds so frustrated with himself, with you, growling and nipping and licking when you don’t answer quick enough. but your breath is caught in your lungs because finally—finally, did you get what you wanted. it just took a little bit of pushing, you suppose.

[canarybell]

A little touch of Miles in the night

Do you think about this Michael Sheen post as often as I do?

Cause...you can see what he meant here, right? Comparing Aziraphale (especially this Aziraphale, with this boa) to Miles Maitland. Comparing two Sheens with twenty years between them.

And it's not just a boa. They are so...them. Gayer than a treeful of monkeys on nitrous oxide. Dramatic. Flamboyant. You can see this similarity in their energy in these particular moments.

And yet...is it all? Or there is something else?

Spoilers for "Bright Young Things" under the cut. tw:homophobia, just in case.

You remember what happened to Miles in the end of his storyline? To sweet, frivolous, charming Miles?

The police got Miles' letters to his ex-lover. It was 1930s, and one piece of paper with love confessions inside could lead you to prison. So he had to leave for France to avoid arrest, without even really packing his things. And it's happened just before WW2, so his further fate in soon-to-be occupied France was...unclear, let's say that.

And you know what's happening to our angel here?

He's so silly and happy. He's spending the night with a demon he just recently realized to be madly in love with. Crowley trusts him - as he showed in another round of their peculiar roleplay. He was able to be a terrible magician for one evening. This is a perfect evening, right? He's happy and is ready to share this happiness with the whole world.

There is knock in the door. In this second Aziraphale is beaming and shouts "Enter!".

The next second the door will be opened. Hell is gonna come into the dressing room. Hell that has evidence of an impossible, criminal connection. Hell, ready to trample not only over this second joy, not just this evening - but all past and possible future evenings too. Ready to destroy all of Crowley, and with him, all of Aziraphale.

All thanks to one piece of paper.

……. It was good that Aziraphale knew that trick with the photograph, wasn't it? After all, he and Crowley have nowhere to run to within the confines of Earth - the jurisdiction of Heaven and Hell is somewhat wider than that of an English court.

[knightoflove]

You’ve started to look like your f/o.

Not physically, but you’ve picked up some of their habits. Their nervous ticks, what they do with their hands. Little mannerisms that make others go “you’ve been spending too much time around them”.

They’ve done the same, mirroring some of your actions. It’s the art of noticing, wondering why and then incorporating it into the things they do because it’s something that you do, and it’s something that reminds them of you every day.

Pro/ship dni pls

Dividers by @.saradika-graphics