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fettuccin-e · 10 months

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Honey-Sweet

Description: You're far too sweet for him. He's determined not to ruin you, despite the fact that he seems to ruin everything, and everything about you just seems to make his fantasies worse. But one night can change everything, apparently, when Miguel finally sees how completely not sweet you can be.

Tags: Miguel O'Hara x Reader, afab!fem!reader, hoooh boy a lotta smut okay, oral (m and f recieving), unprotected piv (pls oh pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids), riding, doggy, missionary, some fluff bc i'm not completely deranged, light degradation (w/c: 2.1K)

A/N: oh lord the Miguel brainrot is REAL folks okay this is fucking crazy. I WANT THIS MAN TO **** ** **** * ****** ******* okay he has me fuckin frothing at the DAMN MOUTH actin like a DAMN DOG okay so please enjoy a bit of a miguel smutfest

You’re too fucking sweet for him. That’s what he tells himself. Miguel O’Hara doesn’t do sweet.

You’re fucking sweet with the way you bring cookies in for the other Spiders that accompany you on missions. You’re sweet in how you brought in a ridiculous hand-made baby blanket for Mayday when Peter first brought her in, emblazoned with his Spider-Man logo to wrap her up tight in. You’d kissed the baby on the head, whispering tiny sweet nothings into her bright red hair, and Miguel had had to hide the emergence of his fangs at the sight of it.

You’re too sweet, too kind for him. You organize little movie nights at the office, you make him stay a little longer on missions so you can see the tourist spots from different universes. And the way you look at him, all wide-eyed and bright and smiling… it does things to him.

It makes him want to bring you flowers, kiss you on the cheek. It makes him want to plan fucking candle-lit dinners and bake cupcakes with you. All sweet, too sweet.

But, because he apparently can’t stop himself, you also want to make him do decidedly not sweet things. Like grab at your tits through your suit, pinching your nipples until your knees go weak and you whimper his name in your gorgeous little voice. Like force you down on your knees, fucking his cock into your hot mouth while tears leak down your cheeks. Like tying you up with his webs, eating your pretty cunt out while you struggle against them, whining that “it’s too much, too much Miguel.” Like fucking you deep, so fucking deep on his cock, making you squeeze around him while you scream for him, beg for him to fill you up with cum. He thinks about watching it leak out of your achy pussy, dripping down your thighs.

But you’re so goddamn sweet, too gorgeous and lovely, and he can’t ruin you, he can’t.

So when you finally wear him down, finally get him to go to coffee with you, he tries to be just as sweet as you. You hold his fucking hand, you kiss him on the cheek. You smile into his mouth as his lips meet yours in front of your apartment door. Miguel swears that his heart will pop with how much it swells when you’re near him.

He brings you flowers, walks you to your door, brings you lunch while you’re filing post-mission paperwork. And God, it’s beautiful. It’s fantastic and bright and so wonderfully domestic that Miguel wonders if he’s died, gone to some heaven he doesn’t deserve. He’s determined to revel in the domesticity of this… thing he’s created with you, his disgusting fantasies be damned.

He doesn’t like to think about how he has to fuck his hand after he drops you off at your house, his lips still burning with the touch of your soft, soft kiss. He thinks about how your lips would look stretched around his dick.

He’s content. He’s happy. For the first time in so fucking long, he’s happy. And he’ll happily tug on his dick by himself for the rest of damn time if it means that he gets to revel in your soft, pretty, wonderful sweetness for a little bit longer. He will not ruin you.

But.

As he kisses you softly in front of your apartment, the both of you still suited up from your latest mission, you tug him closer. You pull him down into your hungry mouth, and you lick into him like you’re starving for it. He can’t help how he growls at the feeling of it, his big hands coming to clutch at your hips. God, you’re pretty, fucking addicting with the way your tongue tangles with his and how you whimper when his hands cup your ass, tugging you up just that extra inch.

“Take me to bed, Miguel,” you gasp between feverish kisses, and fuck, he’s gone.

He hauls you into his arms, and his knees almost go weak at the way you wrap your thighs tightly around his middle, the way you lick into his mouth all over again.

And Miguel has spent so much time in his head, thinking, no, knowing that you’re sweeter than goddamn pie. It’s in every fucking breath you take, every moment he spends with you.

But that night, as he lays you onto the bed, gently, gently like you deserve, he learns that you’re not as sweet as he thinks you are.

Not at all.

Not with the way you roll him over with your strength, begging for him to disengage his suit, looking at him like you want to devour him as it dissolves around him, leaving him bare to your gaze. You graze a reverent hand up his chest as he heaves under you, whispering, “God, can’t believe I’ve waited this long to have you like this. You’re so pretty, Miguel.”

Pretty. Pretty? He can’t be the pretty one, no, not when you’re unzipping your own suit, and he can see everything. Every inch of supple, soft skin. Your nipples, hard and peaked and begging for his touch. Your pretty, pretty pussy; he can see how you’re practically dripping, the wetness between your legs glistening in the soft lamplight.

And you’re not sweet, not sweet at all, when you nip and suck little marks down his chest and abs, grinning up at him like a damn siren when he gasps at your touch. Fuck, you’re the opposite of everything he thought when you take his cock into your mouth, bobbing deeper, deeper until you just can’t anymore, jacking the rest of his cock while you kiss and lick and suck at him.

You grab his hand with your free one, and pull it into your hair. You pull up from his cock, and Christ, there’s a line of your spit that connects you to his throbbing tip, and Miguel thinks that he might die.

“Fuck my face, baby?” you rasp, and yes, that’s it, Miguel is going to fucking die here. But he can’t refuse you, with those gorgeous eyes gazing up at him, the tip of his cock on your tongue.

It’s not sweet, not at all, when he forces your head down on his cock, pressing himself deep into your pretty little mouth. And you moan like you love it, just taking it as he thrusts roughly into your mouth. Your spit runs down his shaft, your little whimpers and the way you choke when the tip jams into the back of your throat all echoing in his ears.

He can’t hear himself, but God, you can. You relish the way he growls every time he pushes you down deep, telling you that, “You’re such a good girl, hermosa. Mierda, mi nena perfecta.” Your pussy throbs.

He isn’t soft, isn’t gentle like he told himself to be when he pulls you off his cock. You gasp for air, and Miguel groans as he pulls you up by your hair, dragging your spit-slick lips to his mouth. He can taste himself on your lips, all sticky and hot and puffy.

You whine against his mouth, murmuring little pleas of “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” into him, and his cock twitches, red and aching desperately for your touch.

“Have to make sure you’re ready,” he mumbles, even though he aches, even though his claws threaten to show.

“Nononono,” you whine, and then you sit back, hovering over his cock, fucking monstrous compared to the tiny opening of your dripping pussy, and press down.

Fuck, it’s like heaven inside you, all perfect and wet and hot, and you whine, muttering that, “It’s so fucking big, God, stretches me so perfect, so fucking perfect, so much bigger than I could have dreamed-“

“Nena,” he interrupts you with a hoarse groan of his own, “gotta stop, ‘s gonna, gonna hurt you, oh fuck-“

And you grin at him again, filthy and raunchy and not sweet at all, as you say “I fucking want it to hurt, Miguel. Wanna feel you in the morning, wanna feel you all the time.” And you press yourself the rest of the way down his thick cock, gasping for air, your hips twitching like they can’t decide whether to run away from the sensation or seek it.

“Fuck, wanna feel you all the time,” you murmur and Miguel can’t decide whether you’re actually talking to him or not. “Want you to fuck me so hard I can’t breathe, fill me up so fucking perfect, God, oh my God, ‘m so fucking full,” you roll your hips forward in desperate little circles, a weak attempt at getting him deeper. An endless stream of “fuck me, fuck me, please please please,” starts to leave your lips again, and you sound so desperate, so needy, that Miguel can’t help but roll you over, pinning you underneath him, and fucking his cock so hard and so deep into you that you dig your fingers into his back and sob.

He does what you ask that night. He fucks you and fucks you and fucks you, until tears leak from your eyes and your bed is soaked with a mixture of yours and his cum. And God, you scream for him, begging him for more, deeper, harder.

The slick sounds of your bodies meeting over and over must be heard all over the building, but Miguel can’t bring himself to care, not when he’s able to fuck you like this, disgusting and filthy.

How could a sweet, lovely, soft thing like you love this so much?

From that night on, it seems that all bets are off. From that night on, it seems that you make it a mission to show him exactly how not sweet you are.

Fuck, there’s no sweetness to you when you hump your hips into his face the next morning, practically smothering him in your pussy as you squeal and tangle your fingers in his hair. He digs his fingers so hard into your thighs that he’s sure they’ll bruise, and licks up your juices. Your pussy is honey-sweet on his tongue.

You’re not soft when you ride him into the mattress, throwing yourself down onto his cock and moaning as you stretch yourself out. You drag your nails down his chest as you bounce desperately in his lap, and Miguel kind of hopes you draw blood.

There isn’t an ounce of innocence when you sink down on your knees under his desk when he’s in a goddamn meeting, pulling his cock out and sucking at him until his claws shoot out and leave splintering holes in his desk. He has to hide his fangs from the video camera when you choke.

When he finally, finally cuts the meeting short, feeding the other Spider-Men some bullshit excuse about a new anomaly, he presses your head to the base of his cock and shoots his cum down your throat. He means it as a punishment, but when he pulls you off his cock, and sees you with your eyes all glassy and smiling lazily, he can’t help but bend you over the desk and finger fuck you until you cry and scream and beg for him to fuck you with his cock.

You are so far from sweet when he fucks you on the floor after a mission, tensions run too taut and adrenaline racing through your veins. You throw your ass back onto him with every thrust into your sloppy cunt, moaning as he growls, “Such a fucking slut, can’t get enough of this cock, huh? My sweet, sweet girl, what would the rest of the Spiders say if they knew what a fucking whore you are for me?”

And when you choke on your spit around your screams, he leans down to whisper that, “I know, cariño, I know. I'm gonna take care of you,” before he shoves your face down into the carpet and mounts you, shoving his fat cock down into you again and again and again.

Miguel is positive that he’s died and gone to heaven.

It’s not to say that you’re not the same, sweet girl who brings cookies to the office and holds his hand. No, you’re the same, perfect, sweet girl, only that you let him thank you for the cookies by eating you out on the kitchen floor. You hold his hand while you jerk his cock and swallow his moans with your kiss.

You’re just the right kind of sweet for him.

#yeah so #i wrote this in a TRANCE #want this man to throw me around like a ragdoll #can you tell that im ovulating #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #across the spiderverse fic #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x reader

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rochenn · 3 months

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The year is 2034. Disney announces the production of the show "Resistance: Dooku of Serenno", set during the early days of the Empire, starring CG Christopher Lee.

We begin with a flashback to Revenge of the Sith. After Dooku is beheaded, we learn that he used the Force to supply his brain with blood and oxygen. The movie is visibly retconned - as Obi-Wan, Anakin and Palpatine flee the Invisible Hand, four human parts can be spotted stealthily floating after them.

Dooku, being Dooku, survives the crash and manages to steal away. His head is surgically reattached. Don't ask why nobody else ever stitched their lightsaber-chopped limbs back on. He ends up getting prosthetic hands, anyway. David Filoni said in a behind-the-scenes interview that he thought they were cool.

Previously established canon prevents Dooku from doing anything in-character until Order 66. He lets loose in Coruscant's undercity and becomes the local kooky old man who couldn't possibly be public enemy number one until Mace Windu, freshly fried and unhanded, crashes down in front of him. What a coincidence.

Mace is still played by Sam L. Jackson. He is So Old. He is only there for the paycheck. Disney didn't know how to recast him. He is acting alongside the shell of a man who has been dead for two decades.

After a joke about missing hands that is very funny, the two get along swimmingly. They don't really talk about Dooku's various war crimes. "My droid army would never traumatize a young child," Dooku says with a wink into the camera. Remember to buy your Mandalorian merch.

Mace and Dooku organize an underground resistance on Coruscant in the spirit of the Confederacy. Mace is okay with this. Choice aspects of this arc are compelling, like the fight against fascism under the yoke of cruel state suppression, but tone-deaf allusions to the work of Sophie Scholl cause controversy abroad. Andor did it better. Critics on YouTube who thus far lauded the return of fan favorites and 'faithful casting' tear into the show for pushing the woke agenda.

Nothing Mace and Dooku accomplish has any impact on the Original Trilogy. What were you expecting? The end of the show teases a second season with the arrival of a mysterious woman. Dooku's secret wife. You never knew of her because she was never relevant before. As the final credit music slowly creeps in, she says: "Don't you want to see your son?"

The music swells and we cut to Serenno. The planet has never been mentioned throughout all 15 episodes of the show. Standing in the ruins of Dooku's castle is Dooku's son: back turned to the viewer, gazing into the sunset. Dooku II of Serenno, proud heir, turns his head. He is played by Harry Styles.

Roll credits.

#count dooku #i #I'm actually so sorry I don't know what overcame me #i wrote this in a trance #shitpost

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silusvesuius · 8 months

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oh i'm playing dress up all right

basically what if u put them in the 19th century and took all their magic away (my evil vision)

#tes #skyrim #elenwen #elisif the fair #general tullius #ulfric stormcloak #ondolemar #rulindil #my art #if there's typos here anywhere i'm srry i wrote every and all text in a trance #🖼️

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ge · 1 year

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okeyyy...i know this acc is preddy much good and dead, rest in peace all my dearly beloved tgcfmdzs mutuals and followers who moved on to smth else in the yrs since mdzs ended, ....but i still have a big enough active audience methinks soooo i wanted 2 promote a korean novel thats REEALLY unappreciated in the eng community ITS SO GOOD its my favourite novel atm and i really want it to catch on w western audiences bcuz i swear it has the potential to be as big as mxtxs novels were if given the opportunity to blow up...

RETURN OF THE MOUNT HUA SECT (aka, officially, RETURN OF THE BLOSSOMING BLADE) is an action, fantasy, comedy korean novel by BIGA on Naver, with a webcomic by STUDIO LICO on Webtoon

THE WEBCOMIC IS CURRENTLY ON BREAK AFTER THE COMPLETION OF ITS FIRST “SEASON” (will be returning sometime mid 2023) AND THE NOVEL IS STILL ON GOING WITH 1494 CHAPTERS (as of 4/15/2023)....if uve read tgcf in its entirety pls dont let that chp count scare you..rotmhs is a very bingeable novel... while rotmhs doesnt have an official english translation, the ongoing fan tl has 379 chapters translated (as of 4/15/2023) [LINKS PROVIDED BELOW]

MY SYNOPSIS: the story follows the main protagonist chung myung, a member of the mount hua sect who was formerly known as the legendary ‘plum blossom sword saint’, reincarnates into the body of a beggar child a hundred years into the future after dying following the beheading of the demonic cult leader, chun ma, who slaughtered his clan members as well as countless other sects during the war. when he wakes, he discovers that his once proud and respected sect has fallen into ruin during the century following its defeat. chung myung, hiding his identity as a fabled hero from the past, rejoins the mount hua sect under the guise of being nothing but a beggar to help restore the mount hua sect to its former greatness while making friends as well as enemies along the way..

the official (webtoon) synopsis:

When Cheongmyeong of the Mount Hua Sect awakens a hundred years in the future, his last memories are of a bloody battle against the Leader of the Demonic Cult, the evil Cheonma. The battle almost saw the end of the Ten Great Sects of ancient China, when Cheongmyeong ended the hard-fought struggle by striking down Cheonma. Soon after, he succumbed to his wounds, filled with regret at their pyrrhic victory. All is not lost, however, as he awakens to his second chance at life. Shocked to find his beloved Mount Hua Sect reduced to a mere shadow of itself in the present day, Cheongmyeong embarks on a journey to restore Mount Hua to its former glory.

while the official synopsis does make it seem like the story is going to be heavy and action focused, the novel itself is more comedic than its led on to be and its action scenes are rlly fun and exhilarating to read..

the main cast are extremely likeable and their relationship w each other is very funny and heartwarming... that being said i feel like if uve come from any of the popular danmei novels and r interested in reading rotmhs (PLEASE BE INTERESTED) i feel like i shuld mention that THERE IS NO ROMANCE IN THIS NOVEL... its not a BL, theres no romantic connotations between any of the main characters, this novel is more focused on found family and the bonds between friends than anything BUT PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT LET THE LACK OF ROMANCE DISSUADE YOU..

AIIISSHH THIS IS GETTING LONG ENOUGH soo basically here are links 2 where u can read ROTMHS please consider reading it PLEASE bc im sick as hell of not having enough fics or fanart of it or ppl to talk to abt it with..feel like im rting art on my priv to brick walls....!!!!!!!!!!

(official) NAVER (1494+ chapters, korean) https://series.naver.com/novel/detail.series?productNo=4130558&isWebtoonAgreePopUp=true

(official) WEBTOON (73 chapters, english) https://www.webtoons.com/en/action/return-of-the-blossoming-blade/list?title_no=2849&page=9

FANTRANSLATION (379+, english) https://skydemonorder.com/projects/return-of-the-mount-hua-sect

one last also before let yall have at it, if u’ve read the webcomic and dont feel like rereading the entire novel up to the webcomic stopping point, jump to chapter 117 on the fantranslation.. chp117 is right where the webcomic leaves off👍

OKAYYY HAVE FUNNNN PLEASE READ RETURN OF THE MOUNT HUA SECT PLEEEASEE SHARE THIS POST W EVERYBODY OR ILL KILL MYSELF IDK YAYYYYY YIPPEEEEE ROTMHS SUPREMACY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! if u do end up reading and liking it please god..talk to me about it..... im literally shaking scratching my neck rocking in a corner crying sobbing sniffling snotting

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no-1-rosalind-lang-apologist · 2 months

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Juliette, the Girlboss Trope, and Structural Change

From what I’ve observed, stories with “girlboss” protagonists tend to be less likely to critique existing power structures and end up focusing more on slightly tweaking surface level aspects of them to allow the protagonist to prove themselves within the context of the existing system. To me, this is extremely interesting within the context of These Violent Delights because Juliette is arguably initially set up to fulfill this archetype. Because she is a girl, her claim to the status of heir is questioned by those around her more than it would be otherwise. She feels more pressure to be ruthless and to do whatever she can to earn the respect of those around her. Toward the very beginning of These Violent Delights, she threatens to kill Tyler when he attempts to upstage her, saying that she will kill him before she lets him take her heirdom away from her. Without knowing that These Violent Delights is a Romeo and Juliet retelling, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to expect Juliette to become the leader of the Scarlet Gang and somehow fix things from the inside at the end. She is well set up to be the Strong Female Protagonist ™ who takes what is owed to her and is hardened and kickass and ruthless and doesn’t let interfering men get in her way.

But importantly, regardless of how much Juliette initially knows it, this is a facade. The image of the hardened ruthless heir may be one that Juliette encourages, but it is a heavily distorted reflection of who she truly is. Because at her very core, though she was raised to be the heir of the Scarlet Gang and therefore should be the literal personification of the continuation of the blood feud, that is not who Juliette is. Throughout the duology, her main motivation is protecting those she loves. At first, she believes that she can do this by working within the existing system. She tries to legitimize herself as heir within the existing power structure of the Scarlet Gang. However, the Scarlet Gang Juliette is set to inherit is one built upon a foundation of fractures that legitimizes its existence through the perpetuation of the blood feud to the extent that to solve the blood feud, or even seek to calm it, would be a violation of its very nature. The Scarlet Gang could never accept a leader that sought to do this, nor could the White Flowers, who equally rely on the blood feud as a source of power, accept the figurehead of their rival gang as an ally. To do so would be a fundamental betrayal of the nature of these two groups. Thus, Juliette must choose between legitimizing her position as heir, bringing more suffering upon the people and city she loves in the process, and giving up her position as heir and forfeiting her power.

But if Juliette forfeits her power, who does she forfeit her power to? After all, if she merely walks away, the blood feud will still exist. The refusal of one person to fall in line cannot topple an entire system. The answer comes back to Tyler who, unlike Juliette, truly is meant to represent the continuation of the blood feud. He feels the need for vengeance and hatred at his core, and is constantly suspicious of Juliette, recognizing her lack of loyalty though it is incomprehensible to him. Ultimately, there was never room enough for both of them. When Juliette threatened his life in These Violent Delights, she did so out of fear of him usurping her place. Little did she know, he already had. In representing the longevity of the blood feud, Tyler, not Juliette represents the longevity of the Scarlet Gang. While she was the heir in name, he embodied the very lifeforce of the gang. In a way, he almost represents the Juliette that could have been. And that is precisely why Juliette had to kill him.

Though Tyler’s death is foreshadowed by Juliette’s initial threat in the first book, when she shoots him in Our Violent Ends, it is not the callous, unfeeling kill of an heir pushing aside the final obstacle before claiming their rightful place at the top. Instead, it is Juliette’s final severance from the vicious cycle of the blood feud and the illusion of her status as heir. She recognizes that the power she would wield as the future leader, or even the true heir, of the Scarlet Gang stakes its legitimacy in the continuation of the blood feud, and therefore, she would lose legitimacy as a leader if she were to act against the blood feud. This is further demonstrated when Lord Cai tells her that she can choose between dying a White Flower and being heir following his discovery of her relationship with Roma, representing her direct defiance of the blood feud, and her murder of Tyler, representing her sabotage of the longevity of the blood feud and her rejection of her status as heir.

By this point, Juliette has established that she cannot live as a part of the blood feud. She put a bullet through its heart, firing on her own kin to do so. Because the blood feud has no future, she can no longer pretend to occupy the role of heir. But at the same time, in killing Tyler, she has rejected her place within the blood feud. She cannot die a Scarlet, and she cannot die a White Flower because she refuses to be either. In the end, it is not her and Roma’s apparent deaths that aid the end of the blood feud. Instead, it is their rejection of its perpetuation through their rejection of their statuses as heirs. Their continued survival after their apparent death and the birth of their daughter stands in direct defiance to the division brought on by the blood feud. Though, as is further explored in Foul Lady Fortune, this division is still very present, Roma and Juliette’s continued survival both acknowledges that the kind of change required cannot be brought about by the efforts of one titular protagonist, no matter how world ending their sacrifice, and gives hope for a better future. Unlike the girlboss protagonist, Juliette rejects the status quo and achieves her goals by rejecting power. Instead of seeking to be the figurehead of change, which would also be extremely ahistorical, she does her part and steps back, acknowledging that as a singular person, she does not and should not have the power to fix everything. In the end, she watches from the outskirts of Shanghai, and though she is doomed to forfeit her place within her home to protect the people she loves, she is safe enough to live with her husband and raise her daughter and use her remaining connections to do what she can. Because in the end, one person cannot fix everything, no matter how powerful they are. And the spark of hope represented by Juliette and Roma’s continued survival and the birth of their daughter as well as the protection offered by their weapons ring is enough.

#disclaimer: i am not necessarily saying that that any of this is correct and true i just sort of went into a trance and wrote this #also i didn't even touch on juliette grieving for tyler and the contrast that was drawn between them there #i might revisit this and talk more about how structural change is approached throughout chloe gong's work #and/or maybe how this is continued within foul lady fortune #or maybe the difference between the girlboss trope and the morally gray thing #hopefully this is coherent #if someone wants to add onto this please do i love overanalyzing things #i was going to wait to proofread this again after sleeping but its fiiiineee #chloe gong #secret shanghai #these violent delights #tvd #our violent ends #ove #last violent call #lvc #a foul thing #aft #juliette cai #roma montagov #juliette x roma #romajuliette #mai #katherina montagova #tyler cai

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deadliestfishinthesea · 2 months

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And what if I uploaded this? What then?

#that is a threat #i wrote this fic while in a trance #captain boomerang #digger harkness #george harkness #dcu #ssktjl #suicide squad kill the justice league

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sandshadow9 · 1 year

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Love Language

“Are you okay? You’ve been staring at that scroll for hours.”

Peril watched as Clay heaved an enormously dramatic sigh and flopped his head on the desk. It hit with a rattling thunk.

“I knoooow,” he moaned, his usually adorable face scrunched in misery. “I’ve been trying to write this letter to Umber for hours but it’s really super hard.”

Carefully, always carefully, Peril approached the desk. The light from her firescales joined with the small halos of orange that flickered from the candles that lined the desk. Beneath Clay’s head was a piece of parchment half filled with his signature left-leaning scrawl. She glowered at it. “Want me to burn it for you? Would that make you feel better?”

The smile that fell across his face was like a summer wind under her wings. “That’s very…sweet, Peril, but I don’t think that’s going to solve my problem.” He lifted his head, his sweet brown eyes flitting across the page sadly. “I just… never really got good at spelling and stuff. I want to get better, but every time I try to write to someone or help a student with their work, I end up getting all confused and mix my letters up.”

Peril leaned over his shoulder, eyeing the evil paper that dared to hurt Clay in any way. The written text had several sections that had been marked out and re-written. At the bottom of the page was a word – at least she guessed it was the same word – rewritten in multiple ways and scratched out every time.

“What’s…gongeous?”

Clay put a talon over his face. “I’m trying to spell gorgeous. I’ve been sitting here forever trying to spell it.”

“Oh!” Peril said brightly, titling her head to the side. “G-O-R-G-E-O-U-S. Gorgeous!”

Clay looked at her wonderingly, like she had just shown him a portal to an endless field of cows. “Peril…yes! Thank you! That’s exactly it!” Quickly he began scribbling down the letters. He smiled down at the parchment, a weight lifted from his wings, and then he looked back at her in a way that stole the breath right out of her chest. “You’re so smart. I wish you could help me write all my letters.”

~~~

In Turtle’s opinion, a SeaWing was the perfect dragon for a midnight snack stealth mission to the kitchen. First of all, he could see in the dark so no worrying about slamming into walls or stumbling down the wrong tunnel. Secondly… uh… he didn’t actually have a second point down yet.

The list was still a work in progress, after all.

As he approached the entrance to the library, he noticed that the solid darkness eased into something more shadowy and flickering. Light filtered out of the library entrance and fell over the stone cave in warm puddles of soft orange. Alarmed, Turtle realized someone must have left a candle burning in the library.

Being the self-preserving and heroic dragon he was, Turtle immediately hurried into the library to save the school.

He did not find a candle. What he found instead was a hundred times more dangerous.

Peril was sitting in the library, holding some thin granite slates in her burning talons. Turtle recognized them as the slates Starflight had made so that he could read by touch. Luckily they also doubled as fire-proof reading material.

Peril was studying the text so intensely that Turtle had to clear his throat several times before she looked up.

“Go away. I’m busy,” she said.

“Okay but…what are you doing?” Turtle asked.

“I’m reading the dictionary,” she stated mater-of-factly, “and memorizing the spelling for each word.”

Turtle considered this. He considered it for several minutes, turning it around in his head so many times it made him dizzy. Finally he asked the only question you can ask in this sort of situation. “But…why?”

Peril looked up from her reading, her eyes dreamy and unfocused. “In case… someone needs to know how to spell a word. Then I can always be ready.”

Turtle decided not to point out that there were easier ways to check one’s spelling that didn’t include memorizing the dictionary. But, it was late and he was hungry.

“Well… have fun with that. I’m off to find some leftover croissants.”

“Bring me back some, would you?” Peril asked, and Turtle stifled a groan. He and his stomach had really been hoping to finish off whatever was left.

But then he turned back and saw Peril, his best friend in the whole world, sitting on her own in a dark room.

He sighed to himself and, being the heroic dragon he was, promised to be right back.

#TUMBLR EXCLUSIVE for now #Uhh I wrote this in a trance at 10:30 pm and its kind of valentines themed ig #romance love #BUT ALSO platonic okay folks #anyway lets see if people read fanfics on tumblr #wof #wingsoffire #wings of fire #Clay wof #Peril wof #Turtle wof #my writing

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lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar · 6 months

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#badfinger #we're for the dark #bbc in concert #1972 #1973 #one of the softer songs #this live version put me in such a trance when i first heard it #it's so pretty #i used this picture just because i love it and felt like it went with the way the song sounds #and because pete wrote this and sang it so i wanted a picture of pete #also can i point out how pretty tom's backups sound #the way their voices sound together #beautiful

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sochilll · 1 year

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J tells H 👁️? what does he tell her,,,,,

Oh possibly my saddest wip. this was a recent one I randomly sat down and wrote a bunch of it (tw for discussions of suicide but nothing graphic/specific)

Basically Jared realizes Evan either tried/is going to try to kill himself (I haven’t decided if the canon arm break happened) and freaks out and tells Heidi because he doesn’t know what to do. And Evan is like furious with him because his mom is obviously devastated and he feels like Jared overstepped.

So just a lot of like Evan being angry and feeling betrayed and now guilty because his mom is worrying more than before. So he doesn’t want to talk to Jared but at the same time he does because he’s reckoning with the fact that Jared cared enough to freak out and to actually talk to Heidi about it because that is obviously not a Jared thing to do. And Jared feels guilty but also sure he did the right thing so he’s digging his heels in and being stubborn about it. So it’s a lot of them just fighting but underneath it’s just “I love you I love you I love you” you know?

Just like the whole plot of deh is about suicide and mental health but it’s all after the fact. And I was simply interested in what they would do if they knew before. If they had a chance to stop it. Because it’s hard! When you’re like 17 and you know your friend is thinking about that like what do you do? And when you’re the one dealing with it it can feel like such a huge betrayal for your friend to tell an adult. Just lots of thoughts and emotions about this situation.

Snip:

His mom took a slow breath. “Jared came to talk to me today. He told me some things.”

Evan’s heart rate spiked, mind immediately racing with everything Jared could have possibly ratted him out for. The time they snuck some of Jared’s parent’s alcohol at their Fourth of July party sophomore year? Or maybe the time they snuck out in middle school to go to a high school party that Jared’s cousin invited them to? Oh god what if it was about that test Jared had helped him cheat on? He knew he shouldn’t have done it. And now he was going to have to admit it and flunk out of high school so close to graduation.

The part of his brain that wasn’t worried about dropping out of high school was wondering what the hell he did to piss Jared off enough for this.

Send a title from my wip list that interests you and I’ll talk about it/post a snippet

#thanks Zoe ❤️#i was wondering how immediately obvious it would be who was in the title but I guess there’s only one J and H in deh anyway #this one is very much in the *sat down and entered a trance and wrote 3k words in one setting* stage #she needs editing and some scene transitions #but many thoughts…#deh #my writing #kleinsen

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taihua · 2 months

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Getting an email from AO3 about a fic you have no recollection of writing is a wild experience

#writing fq fic is just going into a trance like state for me #anyway I guess I wrote a whole nanyao fic and forgot about it! neat!

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the-spooky-alien · 2 years

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heyyy, im back with a little piece of cancer angst (is it even surprising at this point ?) I hope you will like it :)

Mulder doesn't even know they're arguing until Scully's snapping at him to leave her alone for once before storming out and leaving the room – her motel room. He can only stand there, trying to remember why they began shouting at each other when they should have focused on the case at hand.

Something about her having another nosebleed. Maybe he hasn't hidden his concern in time. Maybe he shouldn't have touched her shoulder. But he's beginning to get tired of having to hide how nerve-wracking it is to witness her shake and cough, one bloodied hand pressed to her face.

He wishes she would let him hold her through the pain.

(For her sake or his, he can't tell.)

Shaking his head, he sits on her bed, letting himself be immersed in her soft scent. He's not sure what it is, but it's soothing. Reminds him of the whisper of the wind in his hair in the spring. Of late nights, spread on his motel bed with her, trying to solve cases while bantering, as they always do.

Did.

He shouldn't let himself wander down this path. Because, of course, his eyes begin to burn, and his throat closes, and he feels like he can't breathe, but now is not the right time, he's still in her bedroom and Scully could come back any time, and oh God, there won't be any more nights like that, the only thing that will remain is him and the vague scent of wind and late nights to keep him company when her absence will be too much, and it hurts so fucking much-

His lungs burn, screaming for some air, so he tries to inhale. It doesn't work, breaths too shallow, and the ache in his chest builds until he feels like dying. And wouldn't it be perfect that way ? If he died, he would only have to wait for her on the other side, and he wouldn't have to live without Scully, without fiery hair and fiercer arguments.

It would be perfect.

Everything hurts, and it would be absolutely perfect.

Something freezing lands on his cheeks, snapping him back to reality, enough to realize he needs to breathe now. His vision is blurry, but he thinks it's Scully in front of him, the distinct shade of her eyes shining in fear.

''Mulder ? Mulder, listen to me.'' I am listening, he wants to say, but there's no air in his lungs, his tongue is too heavy, and the words get stuck underneath the lump clogging his throat. ''You have to breathe, do you understand ? In and out. Listen to me, Mulder ! In. Out.'' He only manages to wheeze, tears hot on his skin. ''Come on, Mulder, for once in your life just listen to me ! Breathe. In and out.''

It builds in his chest, tearing through his throat, landing on his tongue with a bitterness he never associated with the word. Her fingers dig in his skin. It doesn't hurt, not really. She's still alive. At last, he chokes, ''Scully.''

''Yes, Mulder, that's it. I'm here, you're safe,'' she whispers, each of her words ending in a puff of air against his lips. She's so close, merely inches apart. She's so far away, here but not here, her skin still red from where she scrubbed clean her skin. Alive or dead, he can't tell. ''No, no, Mulder, just breathe. Don't think about anything, focus on my voice, alright ?''

He smiles through the agony in his body. Her voice sounds like music to his ear, her hands like a balm to his burning skin. He won't have any of this anymore. He will only have dust gathering on her shelves of the office, heavy silence and a heavier heart.

He's in love with her and she's dying.

''Mulder, please, breathe. You have to breathe. Come on, Mulder.''

He has never been able to refuse her anything.

(Sometimes, he can't decide whether she is his strength or weakness.)

So he does breathe. Only to soothe the fear lacing her tone. Only to appease the horror rising in her eyes. Only to lean a little more into her warmth.

Scully welcomes him, tugging him closer clumsily. Her lips are scorching against his skin. It's better than her cold hands. She whispers against his hair, shoulders shaking, and it takes him a long time to understand what she's saying. Her words are muffled but he recognises her tone, darkened by guilt.

''I'm sorry,'' she says again and again, hugging him so tight he doesn't know his body from hers.

He should be the one to apologise. He has ruined her bedding with his trashing and crying and whining. He has ruined her whole life too. Doesn't this deserve an apology ?

He's too tired to say anything but her name. ''Scully.''

It's okay, he wants to say, I'm a mess too.

Scully's arms tighten on him. She's wrapped around him in a way that makes him feel safe for the first time in his life. It's easier to breathe now. She smells like the wind and late nights of work.

He lets go, burying his face in the soft skin between her neck and shoulder, where he doesn't have to look at her hollowed cheeks and tired eyes. ''It's never going to be okay.''

Her chest stutters underneath him. ''No.'' Her cheek rests atop his head. ''No, it's not.''

Neither of them disentangles themselves from each other.

He wishes they could stay like this for the rest of their lives.

#txf #dana scully #fox mulder #msr #if it's a bit disjointed it's because I've wrote it in a trance while being tired as fuck #but i needed to write something about them and it's the first thing that came to mind #i don't know why the cancer arc is so inspiring to me #but it is so here i am serving you once again with cancer angst #i hope i didn't butcher their characterization though #thank you for reading !

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musicalchaos07 · 1 year

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Me: I'm going to take a little mental health break from Fandom

Also me: Stays up until 4 am to write a 12000 word, six chapter, Jancy fake dating AU fic

#as in i started this at 9? and just finished all but one chapter which is 50% done #i even wrote smut for the first time #like what the fuck #the spirit of Jancy entired my body and i was put into a trance #i cannot wait to update y'all tbh #there's even a matching playlist #stranger things #jancy #personal #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler

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planetamarte · 3 months

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i have to keep writing shadomega one way or another and this time its in comic format

#talking #u cant make out SHIT in this screenshot everything is gray thumbnails except those black bg panels. which arent finalized either #been thinking about comic making recently. i dont think id ever do a long-running thing but i do have comic ideas in my head :)#a lot of it comes from like... when i write sonic in general it feels like some of it would fit rly well as a comic. LOL #that sonado fic i wrote last year for example. i wrote that in a way where i can imagine it as a comic so fucking easily in my head LOL #especially with the action scenes its like fuuuck i take so much inspo from idw for those #this shadomega one is just a short internal monologues thing so i wrote it up in a trance n was like. this would be really good illustrated #ive been rotating this shadow & princess rosalina comic idea in my mind for months too LOLLL fuck that the school semester just started man

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23sibylcake23 · 9 months

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Sometimes I find a stomach and ask about, wander through the town, old wooden sign (one chain broken so it dangled and the termite eggs hang from the bottom as they are building houses), and knock on the doors. People come to messy hairdo hands busy pots and pans people; kids and husbands people; sex and drugs people; but no people with teeth. They answer their door unafraid to see a stranger, do not say I should’ve called ahead.

(Were you planning on eating that?) scrutinizing gaze like they’re trying to see what scheme I’m playing at (I’m talking to you) they shiver and shake in a way that I don’t think is a mistake to take for no. Front porch hole raccoon burrowed in greedy yellow eyes paws at the edges scratch marks even sunlight filtered through the cracks of the trees like river water through the sand; like river water through the sand; like waterfall breaking against the rocks; like a pond.

The crickets have begun to chirp outside of town when the last door closes holding hands people who also happen to have other body parts. I can see their calluses on the chicken coop, on the porch, in the paint, in the driveway, in the garden. (People who know a thing or two about rituals) and they scream inside, frightened. I can see their calluses in the broom they throw outside scare me off like a stray cat mange all filled vulture wings starlight guides me to the edge of town.

Crickets; pond, that bacteria grows in. Moving water cannot become sickly, moving body cannot become sickly. I have found something gross in her. Bite into the angels hip under the curve of the new moon. Watch it curl its sick lips into a sneer, turn its nose up at me. She and I haven’t been friends for a long time now; her she is so feminine I am just me I praised her then envied her then realized she is nothing without the grass watered by the blood of the open body all sickly green insides spilling over white wings and eyes like code onto a fresh page like ink dripping into linoleum

like the moss dripping into the surface of the lake on a white sky day. (The surface is all that matters) the termites leave home and burrow into the signs leaving egg sacrifices as if I care I pull the wings out and plant them in her eyes using her vision of the future as fertile soil. (The surface is all that matters) guttural laugh billow chuckle moon sneer darkness. Not a light. Not unlike the disturbed surface of a lake on a white sky day. The moon loses her silver as I do not care about a silver lady who only shines on the surface teeth crack hipbone bite down crack my teeth split in half on her body digs through her like a cat on the blankets of a homely lap teeth crack split open gold inside ichor drips lava seismic explosion of my mouth. I feel her intestines wrap themselves around my tongue like a guillotine’s preparative phase. Ribs drop down. Kneading her soul. My mouth is so full. I struggle to swallow another bite, pull my head up, use the force to tear.

Hands halfway into her sinking into the ground body only half exposed to the silent darkness of the inside room late at night starless moonless not a light to be found safe as shelter horrifying danger hairs on neck can feel but nothing else believes. Up to the shoulder. Down on my knees. Bowing down for her. My ichor and magma in her open wounds she is looking at me and I am feathery and light because she is (looking at my surface).

#PersephonePosting #I wrote this while absolutely possessed in a trance and going batshit in a friend’s DM’s. ♡

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