#a self-indulgent piece aaa

[cannibal-nightmares]

"I can hardly explain all of this love You're keeping me sane Because I've got you to adore Nothing is true anymore What I've been through isn't much What you've been through, let it go Your heart can heal the pain"

[ x ]

wips and bts

#cannibal queue #a self-indulgent piece aaa #soul eater #soul eater fanart #stein #spirit albarn #franken stein #my art #spiritstein #soul eater spirit #soul eater stein #spirit x stein #stein x spirit #professor stein #dr. stein #professor franken stein #dr. franken stein

[vasito-de-leche]

okay I read your analysis on Forget Me Not and I'm in tears now thank you. (No but really thank you, it's such a touching piece.) Can you PLEASE for salvation of our fans souls write anything to like,,, give him hope? Forget Me Not x reader but it doesn't have to be actually all-out with hugs and kisses. We may,,,,,,,, just show him a new hobby? Any hobby of your choosing or idk play an instrument together. Just to give him something else to focus on, to channel at least part of his energy from self-destructive activities to something less hurtful. I'd personally like to bandage his (not actually wounded but still) hands as if they were bleeding. Something of the kind. Sorry for mistakes writing is incredibly inconvenient cuz tears aaa.

;R1999 FORGET ME NOT - "hands, fingers, scales"

Forget Me Not x Reader. 2.3k words. self-harm implied You've befriended Forget Me Not the same one befriends a rabid, beaten, old dog. And while he's much too busy fighting his inner demons, you're more worried about stopping these "pernicious habits" of his. A casual afternoon trying to make sure he's taking care of himself turns into something deeper.

thank you so much for the ask, nonnie!!

I got a little carried away with this request because thinking about how fucking insufferable and confusing FMN has to be just to indulge in HAND HOLDING and GETTING A FUCKING HOBBY made me so deranged and feral as if hes not fucking TOUCHSTARVED lmfao. this guy's love language is straight up worshipping, mf is not subtle about it

either way, hope you like it! here's the lil preview!

Sometimes, Forget Me Not understands the reason men and women kneel at the pew to worship and pray.

Devotion is something arcanists and humans share, whether honest or not. He's witnessed the rich and the poor, the pure and the depraved, and every binary that rules this world - all of them begging, pleading and praying at the end of their lives, casting away the pride they've held on for so long for the chance of salvation. Once stripped down to their core, there is nothing to do but hope God has enough love in His heart to look their way. 

And sometimes, Forget Me Not prays that you’ll find someone else - anyone but him - to fill the role of devotee.

The gentleness in your eyes whenever you look at him is enough to bring him to his knees, and Forget Me Not doesn't know what to do with himself but to worship and pray. Praying that you'll continue to look at him for a little longer, silently begging for your attention until you finally tire of him. Do you think yourself holy enough to replace the vitriol in his veins?

He does.

On good days, he even hopes that you can save him.

You never asked him to become your one and only believer, of course. You're not even aware of the space you take in his mind, nor the conflicting images he keeps conjuring of you at night, he's certain of this. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here, holding his hands and inspecting them for any injuries. This role is one of the many self-imposed tragedies in his life.

Your thumbs knead and massage his palm, as if you could soothe the pain away, and yet you refrain from pressing down hard. He's at your mercy, why hesitate? What do you see that he cannot?

Something is bothering you. It's obvious in the way you touch him, like you're afraid of hurting him, as if you were the one with a body count between the two. Every so often, your movements come to a halt and you both sit in silence, until you return to your ministrations, filling the nothingness with your sighing and humming.

All he needs is to look up, right at your face, to know everything he wants to know - but he's too much of a coward for that. Instead, light grey eyes follow your index finger as it slides under the cuffs of his shirt. You trace over the bone of his wrist and continue upwards.

He can't tear his eyes away.

Normally, Forget Me Not wouldn't mind. There is an addictive thrill to witnessing the shock of anyone who dares get so close and personal, but he feels himself shrink when you brush against his scales and recoil away on instinct. That's when he raises his head and finds your eyes in the dimly lit staff room.

That expression on your face - surely, you were regretting every choice that led you to him. By now, you might've surely realized that there is nothing for you to salvage in this shipwreck he calls a life. All attempts to check on him were surely a façade for whatever ulterior motives you continued to withhold from him. He's stubborn, believing that he can read you like an open book, but now he's just as lost as you are. When he opens his mouth to speak, you beat him to it and he grows a little restless at your words.

"Sorry, sorry! Did I, uh, hurt you? Dumb question, you would've definitely told me if that were the case. Anyway, it looks like you're okay! I don't know why I was so worried, actually."

His silence prompts you to continue, and all Forget Me Not can focus on is the absence of your warmth.

You raise a hand to gesture dismissively at your behaviour, brush it off to ease your embarrassment, that much he understands - though it's painful to watch you fumble like that, to deny what he hides under his clothes. Forget Me Not thinks of filling the space between your fingers with his own, just to drag you back to that quiet, albeit suffocating, moment of peace. Instead of doing that, he retreats and places both hands neatly on his lap.

"Thanks for indulging me and, yeah uh, again - sorry about that? It just caught me off guard. I should've been more careful."

But you were never careful with his space or his rules, plunging in and out of his life and leaving him to figure out where he stood in his game of push and pull. Why were you being careful now?

"It's nothing, I understand," he lies. Everything you do means the world to him and he doesn't even understand why. "It cannot hurt to know what sort of things the person pouring your drinks might be hiding under their sleeves."

The word "hypocrite" lingers at the tip of his tongue, threatening to spill out with as much venom as he can muster, but it stays lodged behind his teeth because he knows he's even worse: Forget Me Not prays that you'll stay with him, while also opening the door right out his life for you. As much as he wants to, he has no right of calling you out.

He's not used to receiving apologies and so he chooses not to think too hard on yours - though he's dreamed countless of times for the perfect situation in which he finally rips out one apology after another from the throats of those who wronged him, this one feels different. Undeserved, even.

His heart, that wretched lump in his chest, finally settles down and he prepares to end this interaction to save you the awkwardness of addressing his "deformities". But then you go and surprise him once more.

"Come on, I already told you..." You sigh and he inhales in tandem, but you're much too busy rolling your eyes to notice. "That whole thing you do, when you start scratching or, like, picking at your hand? You've been doing it more lately. It had me worried you might've been doing, I don't know - something."

Forget Me Not's eyes widen in surprise. The audacity to notice such things about him? And to put them on display without a warning? What else did you find out?

Part of him wants him to embrace his nature and scare you away, but that's the side of him that's been slowly losing this battle of attrition in his heart - you're a bad influence for him, after all. The other part... Well, it's still trying to sort itself out.

He settles for slowly undoing the buttons on his sleeve. It only takes a moment to roll up the fine fabric to his elbow, knowing you're staring right at him, through him maybe. The expression on his face is one of indifference, one he fights to maintain - this is the most vulnerable he's felt in decades.

That unsightly pattern begins exactly where his sleeves usually end, coiling around his forearm not unlike a snake and traveling upwards. The scales are dark, an iridescent black that reminds him of an oil spill in the middle of the ocean, and the ones at the edges fade away into lighter hues until they mix with the pale, sickly tone of his skin. He knows the sort of beauty he holds, one that can only be admired at a distance, turning into a grotesque imitation of a man when up close.

Forget Me Not presents himself to you and, with his free hand, gets ready to pluck one of the scales off.

"Wait, don't do that-!"

Seizing his arm and holding it close to your chest, you deprive him of the catharsis that comes with this level of self-mutilation. He knows you're connecting the dots, feeling the scattered, empty spaces from all the times you saw him pick himself apart and more. Your fingers brush against his bare skin looking for said spaces, counting them in your head, mourning their loss.

Some scales are in the process of regrowing like unwanted parasites, and he wishes he could feel anything at all just to be closer to you.

"God, what is wrong with you?! What was the point of that?"

Something compels him to laugh (perhaps it's your heartbeat reaching out to him loud and clear through your clothes, he feels it faintly) it comes across as sinister and condescending, the only way he knows how to express joy. Like he's making fun of your concern.

"Apologies," Forget Me Not begins to say, readjusting his glasses. The way you try to keep his own arm out of his reach doesn't go unnoticed. It's such a petty, childish gesture that makes his grin widen and your frown deepen. "I was under the impression you found this little oddity distasteful. There's no need to worry - they will return in a few days, they always do."

"Still, don't do that. It's not funny. It must...hurt a lot."

"Ah, but it doesn't. If else, I'd compare it to being pricked by a very small needle."

"You're just going to find something to nitpick and contradict everything I say, aren't you?" It's the least he can do to repay all the headaches you've given him, and for forgiving his transgressions too easily.

An intrusive thought makes itself known from the depths of his mind - would you forgive him just as readily if he were to kill someone in front of you? If he showed you just how destructive his arcane skills could be when given free reign? Where would you draw the line? And how much could he continue to push his luck before he lost you?

Before Forget Me Not realizes it, you've loosened your grip on his arm and returned to that previous moment of suffocating peace - the only difference is that you've gone from being deep in thought to troubled and miserable, one hair away from darting out the room and refusing to speak to him. At this, his pinky finger wraps around yours and neither of you mention it.

"Can't you... I don't know, do something else?"

"I could be doing my job, but alas, you're keeping me prisoner here." He says, like he's not delighted to be given your undivided attention. There are no complaints when you step on his foot with a huff, he deserved that one.

"I'm talking about the scales thing! You could wear gloves. If it happens when you get distracted then, I could hang around to make sure you stop in time." A pause, and then the sound of your voice becomes unsure and so very small. "Maybe if we covered them with bandages...? But that could be annoying. Band aids? No, no - too unprofessional. It would ruin the whole aesthetic you're going for."

You continue to trail off, coming up with many different ideas and solutions to a problem he caused. He doesn't understand why you'd even bother in the first place. For you to reciprocate the attention he gives you, to care about him? That's the hardest pill Forget Me Not has ever swallowed - it's something he twirls around with his tongue, as if deciding whether to poison himself with bliss or spit it out and continue latching on to his doubts and insecurities.

Outside, in front of everyone at The Walden, he's the one leading the crowd and talking for hours on end, commanding their attention and manipulating the flow of every conversation.

Behind closed doors, all he does is listen to every nonsensical thought, unnecessary opinion and strange anecdote you throw at him.

"...No, that won't work either." Absentmindedly, you fix and button his sleeve back into place.

You've grown used to his silence the same way you've adapted and grown used to his flaws.

"I mean, it worked on me - getting a little slap on the wrist whenever I started biting my nails, but..." Without even thinking, you rub circles with your thumb across his knuckles.

You might as well be the stupidest angel in heaven.

"Why don't you just get a hobby? That's good enough, right? It's been so long since I've heard you play piano, the one by the stage." And just like that, you're on your feet attempting to drag him outside for a demonstration. "You could teach me! That way, we get to do something fun and I get to keep an eye on you."

Forget Me Not knows he has nothing to offer to this world, but when his saint looks at him with such hope, he cannot refuse. The path to recovery seems almost doable when you bump your shoulder into his, challenging him to play the hardest song he knows.

The stars in your eyes whenever you recognize all the songs he plays becomes intoxicating, more so than the sweet, sweet revenge he's yearned for since he spiraled into decadence.

Some days, his patrons join with their own singing or humming, and he forgets that he hates each and every one of them for as long as his fingers dance across the keys - a momentary reprieve from the constant stream of negativity. It doesn't take long for his body to remember his training and soon, he's improvising.

A melody for gloomy, rainy days. A whimsical tune here and there for celebrations.

A song for you and himself - the first one he teaches you and the only one he plays in private, when he's all alone with nothing but his thoughts. Solitude has gone from a noose wrapped around his neck to the perfect time to compose and hone this long forgotten passion. For the first time in forever, he doesn't dread the silence of an empty room, the endless wait between his shifts at The Walden - not when he can simply fill them with more and more music.

And so, Forget Me Not plays, hoping that you'll continue to cheer him on. Hoping that this tiny spark you've ignited in him can truly become his salvation.

#reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #r1999 #reverse 1999 x reader #reverse 1999 fanfic #reverse 1999 forget me not #forget me not #outing myself as a huge fuckin religion/devotion as a metaphor for relationships freak #and as a hand freak as well. love it when the smallest acts of intimacy are the BIGGEST FUCKING DEALS for characters who are touchstarved #i love writing reader inserts from the pov of the character instead of the reader like #what goes in their head and shit??? THE INNER MONOLOGUES AND DRAMA ????? #FORGET ME NOT'S WHOLE ACT IS A COVER FOR THE FUCKING MESS HE IS WHEN YOU LOOK AT HIMMMMM!!!!!!! #soggiest wettest most pathetic man at manus vindictae #i hope i got his whole fuckin two faced and contradicting mentality across. mf is not having a good time healing but my GOD hes. trying #he hates you but he loves you but god he hates you so much but yeah he'll still worship the ground you walk on #the title is a pun btw. scales. musical scales. his snake scales #IM VERY SMART

[the-darkness-does-not-bargain]

I'm on a cruise right now so of course I'm thinking about my blorbos going on a cruise too. Idk why maybe there's wraith demons aboard a particular ship and the company is trying to cover it up. The point is: Nuns on a Boat. I'm sure the Vatican forks over the necessary funds, probably for a week-long trip, enough time to investigate, plan, execute, and clean up. The original plan was to send a small team of two or three, but Ava probably pesters the new Pope into paying for the whole gang to go (she definitely plays the Jesus card).

It goes like this: the official OCS sisters enter as a group of 4 (Mother, Camila, Yasmine, and Dora) while the remaining 4 split into 2 pairs, Avatrice undercover as newlyweds on a honeymoon (it's good practice for the real thing, Bea!) and Mary riding as a solo passenger (hiding Lilith in her room). They probably have a contact in the ship's crew that sneaks them keycards and pass codes to restricted areas and makes arrangements for them to be in the right place at the right time for recon purposes. I don't know what the demons are doing, maybe planning some kind of mass possession within an enclosed space, but whatever it is will require asskicking through overpriced shops and probably flinging several pool chairs around to solve.

Assorted ideas:

1. The list of shore excursions has to be pried from Ava's hands by Mary because The Second Coming of Christ canNOT be trusted with them. Not because she doesn't know what she's doing, but because if they let her go unchecked she'll have their days booked 6 ways to the Sabbath with several activities overlapping each other. Baby girl wants to do EVERYTHING, time constraints be damned!

2. Beatrice is a little nervous about their cover story, not because she doesn't love Ava or doesn't see them getting married eventually, but because she's still battling some shame about being affectionate in public. This is, of course, in stark contrast to Ava, who is ecstatic over the chance to be shamelessly close to Bea with the tacit excuse of the mission. She drags them to every couple-y event aboard the ship and has no qualms about basically climbing her girlfriend whenever she can get away with it.

3. The God Squad is properly outfitted for just about every situation that could come up, and that includes swimming. For the actual nuns in the party, this means tasteful one-pieces that still earn respectful wolf whistles from Ava and the requisite number of sexy nun jokes. Ava wears a predictably tiny bikini that drives the boys and girls wild while Bea wears a more modest two-piece that drives Ava wild. Mary draws all the attention in her suit that shows off her killer arms and excellent abs. Lilith has to be coaxed into her suit because she's self-conscious. Jillian has probably come up with some way to either reverse or hide her scales, but the result is probably a lot of burn tissue that is difficult to conceal. Ava buys her a long-sleeve swim shirt with some silly design that Lilith threatens her life over but wears anyway.

4. Circling back to the excursions, an argument breaks out about which they should do, and whether they should stick together or split up. It gets a little heated until Mother shuts it down with "We will be doing the dolphin swim and that's final." "But why that one?" "Because I want to do the dolphin swim."

5. Ava is banned from the ship buffet after the third time she tries to dispense ice cream directly into her mouth

6. Camila gets a lot of attention from the fellas, and she gets permission from a quietly proud Mother to indulge them so long as she gets more information for the mission

7. Yasmine sweeps the trivia contests, winning all manner of silly knickknack prizes that she cherishes.

8. We don’t know much about Dora but I'm going to assume that she’s a prodigy in mini golf and collects a following of children who ooo and aaa every time she hits a hole-in-one. She and Mary clown on the competition in shuffleboard

9. Some guy sees Ava by herself (Bea is probably getting them ice cream since she's not banned) and attempts to shoot his shot. It's Ava, unfairly charming and distressingly cute, so he's practically bewitched two sentences into the conversation, but Ava's just being her normal, puppy self. Bea sees them and starts getting jealous, threatening to crush her ice cream cone to bits, but when Ava sees her coming back, she lights up with a "heeeyyy Boo-Bear, there you are! I missed you!" And immediately abandons the dude to press against her girlfriend. The guy makes brief eye contact with Bea before wisely choosing to walk away. Better luck next time, bro.

10. The tables turn when Beatrice is lounging in the sun while Ava is away (probably pestering Lilith) and an interested lady sits next to her and starts making small talk. Beatrice is extremely polite and doesn't quite pick up on the fact she's being flirted with, but Lilith has to punch Ava in the arm to stop her lighting up like an angry glowstick at the sight. Ava does march over there though and turns the puppy energy up to 11, wrapping her arms around Beatrice, nuzzling their cheeks together and pressing in until she's basically in Bea's lap. Bea is flustered and embarrassed, but the lady catches on to what's what and gracefully makes her exit. Ava drags Bea to their room for some quality time while Lilith does her best to look like she doesn't know them.

#warrior nun #save warrior nun #avatrice #sister lilith #sister camila #mother superion

[lunargrapejuice]

hii! i’m only starting my blog now, and i wanted to ask for a few writing tips, if you wish to share. i’ve been a fan of your works for a long time now, and i really really love the way you write! 🩵

hi babes! aaa congrats, thats so exciting!😍💖

i feel honored you'd ask dgfhfk🥺 hopefully this is okay!

i think my biggest piece of advice is to be kind to yourself and be so very self indulgent <3 writing can be hard sometimes and writers block can feel even worse but writing what you love and brain rot about can be so freeing and fun and bring out so much inspritation/passion!

this is something im really working on myself but trying to write consistently, to keep that writers voice active in your head even if its ideas you'll never share or don't think are good or are just silly or short. the more you write, the more you can practice and play around and really find your writing style 😊

i can't stress this one enough though - it is absoletuly okay and necessary to take breaks whenever you need them <3

write at your own pace and use plenty of references when you need them! there are so many cool tool online for writers that can help you out with things like helping you identify words when you can't quite remember the exact one you're looking for, websites for combating writers blocks, etc

i also think that talking with friends and moots and your followers can be really inspriational and amazing too💗 i can't tell you how many of my fics have come to life thanks to ideas that were submitted to me or because my friends and i were talked about a little idea or the way the characters would react it x happened or shared an art and said like 'okay but what if-'🥰💖

ahh okay sorry this was kinda long - i really hope you enjoy your blog and writing!🥺💖

#not me worried that im terrible at giving advice or wording my advice well haha #these are all really just based on my own writing experiences but i really do hope it was helpful to you! #also would you or anyone else maybe be intersted in me creating a page of websites i use pretty regularly? #i wouldn't mind looking at putting something together #i hope you're having a good day #🥰💖💖 #🌙asks

[cloistergardens]

1, 10, 29!

rebs thank you aaa!!!!!!

1: (copied from previous ask) What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting? I write in Times New Roman 12pt!! It used to be the default setting on Word like. 2006 or whatever but currently default on Word is Calibri and I hate Calibri so I change it Every Time lol. I also never write in Docs if I can help it which is why I’m talking about Word defaults :’)

10: Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you? haunting to me means something that feels like it sits in your chest cavity and plays on repeat from a distant speaker in your head. it finds you in everything you read and write and it affects the way you see the world. i have definitely been haunted by writing!! my own writing- it's complicated because I've had this concept from a dream for so long and it's slowly turning into something I'm able to write, but it's been a slow process. other people's writing- there's a lot since things will haunt me off and on for a while and it becomes difficult to separate things after a while, but there were parts of Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders, the Amberlough Dossier books by Lara Elena Donnelly, and King of Infinite Space by Lyndsay Faye that have been looping in my head the last couple months!

29: Where do you draw your inspiration? What do you do when the inspiration well runs dry? I draw my inspiration from everywhere really!! for fics the inspiration is endless; there are so many good aus I love that I want to contribute to and ship dynamics I want more of that I always have new ideas. for original fiction, it's extremely self-indulgent lol if there's something that I wish existed (like an all-lesbian heist movie as a definitely totally random example) then that's what I try to write! it's a blessing and a curse that my inspiration well never truly runs dry; if I can't think of anything specific in the moment I have pages of prompts in my writing notebooks of ideas I had but couldn't follow through with at the time, so I'll usually take one of those and run with it.

#thank you so much these were so fun!!!!!!!! ilysm!!!! #the muse responds #victorianpining

[rose-n-gunses]

A, B, and D for the fanfic asks pleeeeease <3

AAA hi absolutely!!

A - Out of the fanfic you've written, which is your favorite and why?

Probably midwest monster of the highest grade. It was really fun to play with and I was (still am) so happy with how it turned out. I sometimes struggle writing from Chrissy's pov because I don't feel like I have as good of a grasp on her character as I do Eddie's so it was a fun exercise to sort of get into her mind and how she sees things and I love it. (I actually just reread it the other day and I really am so pleased with how their chemistry and her personality turned out.)

B - What was the first fandom you read fic in? Which was the first you wrote fic for?

Reading is definitely Harry Potter. I was big (like. BIG) into Harry Potter for most of my life and iirc I probably got into reading fanfiction through like. Quotev fics I found on Pinterest 💀💀

The first fandom I wrote for was either Harry Potter or Les Miserables I will go check right now. (Please hold!) Okay yes the oldest fic I can find in my drive is Harry Potter related (it's newt scamander x oc specifically). My middle school best friend and I used to write fic together so yeah. Good times! (The second oldest is from about the same time and it is les mis so I was correct lol)

D - What's the most personal fanfic you've written?

Hmm. A lot of the stuff I've written (until hellcheer ofc) was just self indulgent i've created this oc and i'm going to put her into situations because im a middle/high schooler with an overactive imagination and time to kill type shit so it wasn't necessarily personal (except in the sense that like. I wrote it).

I also wouldn't say that any of my currently published hellcheer fics are that personal (again except for that they're mine) BUT I do have one that I've been adding bits and pieces to since like 2022 that, if it's ever finished, I would possibly consider my magnum opus. That one dives really deep into both Eddie and Chrissy's lives and personalities and mindsets and everything and I have taken a lot of how I see things and my experiences and sort of used them as a jumping off point for that so I guess that one would be the most personal (even if it won't see the light of day for quite a while).

Fic writer asks!

#sorry if my answers are lame LMFAO #thanks for the ask!!! #ask answered #ask game #my writing #just r's thoughts #blondiest

[casaplaya]

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[ladegaard59campbell]

The Posh Closet

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[caldwellcarson0]

The Posh Closet

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[church73josefsen]

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[dreamcrow]

writing ask game

i was tagged by @eri-223 to post the most recent sentence i wrote in any of my wips!

Magic pours off them in slow, radiant waves; even the Lady hadn't felt like this, up close.

i tag @megan0013, @feather-dancer, and... @slingerapen >|3c

#ask games #wip tag #it feels like so long since i was tagged in one of these!! thank you :0 #but aaa this piece is v dumb + self indulgent + that's why i'm in love with it #who's this about...and from whose pov? >:3c

[nanaaw]

I SAW UR DAZAI PIECE AND HAD AN IDEA, i personally thought about dazai leaving a little sibling behind in the mafia so what would he be like if him and his little sibling crossed paths and they tried to make him suffer cause their still pissed

omg omg omg hii! thank you for requesting <33

A/N: idk why i just started imagining a toddler going all 'gRrr' at dazai while reading this but i- yes. i wasn't sure if you wanted the reader to be the sibling but i just decided to do that since i SUCK at writing 3rd person ;-;

ANYWAYS hope you enjoy this... abomination

(p.s. y/n's ability is pyrokinesis)

as you were part of the command unit in the port mafia, you were usually seen with either akutagawa or higuchi. yet, here you were, attempting a case by yourself while they were too distracted by the bloody weretiger.

yes, you were y/n dazai, one of the strongest assassins in the mafia. you kicked the dirt as you walked, frustrated by the events that happened during the day. all you wanted to do was indulge in some alcohol with chuuya or kouyou at this point.

sensing a threat nearby, you got your guard up. turning around you met the eyes of someone you never wanted to see again. anger flooded your brain as you faced him directly.

"dazai." you say, venom lacing your voice. he smirks at you, being his playful self. "oh if it isn't my lovely sister, y/n! long time no see" he is then met a kick to the stomach.

"long time no see my ass. i never wanted to lay eyes with you again after you betrayed me. betrayed the port mafia." you seethe, walking towards his fallen form.

"you're as strong as always y/n-chan. just like chuuya." he praised. you send a light rush of flames his way. he manages to dodge it. out of your anger, you continuously throw attacks at him while he dodges them all.

"y/n. listen, i'm... sorry for leaving you." he starts, panting as he had gotten burned a few times. "but there were reasons for it. i promised a friend that i would leave for the better."

you took a breath in before crying out. "so was i of less worth than your 'friend'? obviously it's oda isn't it." without warning, you charged towards dazai, kicking him to the ground leaving you towering over him.

you eyed his bandaged form as you felt bad. still his suicidal self as always. "y/n it's not like that-" he tried to speak but was met with a punch to the cheek.

"listen osamu. it's not you leaving me that angers me. it's that you never thought of saying goodbye before you left." you explain. "if you could have given me a warning- or even just an explanation, i would be okay with you leaving."

"why didn't you tell me? why did i have to find out through the boss?" you felt tears well up in your eyes before rapidly rubbing them away. "i'm glad to see you happy now, but i think it's best we don't run into each other." you start walking away

"wait y/n. i'm really sorry, i should've explained it to you. i guess i just didn't know how. goodbye, y/n" he apologised in a serious tone.

without turning back, you replied.

"goodbye, 'samu."

---

BRO I'M SORRY I WROTE THIS AT 1AM AND I HAD NO IDEA HOW TO DO THIS LMAO. i don't know what i'm doing anymore i have like so much homework to do and i haven't started a single one i'm fucked AAA

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[child-of-hurin]

So sorry I haven’t answered yours yet! I’ve been busy and distracted but it’s so interesting!Yes, mermaids also make me 😍😍 I’m too into fairytales aaa…little prince playing with little mermaids who later save him from shipwrecks…It’s funny because Tolkien said once, “I don't like allegories. I never liked Hans Christian Andersen because I knew he was always getting at me.” I remember really liking Andersen’s fairytales as a kid, but haha I see why!

(This is funny, I was literally talking about this the other day with my wife because of some communication issues regarding (what we perceive as) the difference between metaphor and allegory... (I was precisely saying I hate metaphors but don't mind allegories 😂😂) )

I loooove more fairy-tale-esque interpretations and versions of the legendarium... My self indulgent headcanon is that all of them exist in universe, some in the form of weird bastardized oral traditions that were compiled sooner or later by a scholar & can be found in one of the vast libraries of Númenor 😌 but then we lose them all in the third age

It's not mermaids and the style is evocative of old English poetry rather than fairy-tales, it might not be your thing, but there's this short fanfic about Earendil's three sailors that is one of my favorite pieces of Tolkien fic: https://elwing.tumblr.com/post/623375882280714240/driftwood

#echoofthemusic #tolkien

[remember-to-be-gentle]

This piece is completely self-indulgent and I miss my sexy ghost uncle :(

Subject: The Demon Road Trilogy, Milo Sebastian aka the Ghost of the Highway

Title: Between a Charger and a Hard Place (Fem Reader)

Trigger Warning: Non con, crying, fingering, demon car, Reader is fucked inside a demonic car

You started crying when your battery died. You were alone on an unfamiliar road with only your cell phone able to produce light. The moon was new and the stars were useless. Who knew how far you were from home, or civilization for that matter. How close a hungry mountain lion lurked, or where an angry bear would strike. There was no cell signal out here either, no way to call AAA or even your family to let them know you were safe. 

No one.

And then, headlights swung around the corner, the engine of a car covered in shadows growling so loud it raddled you from the inside out. Your body tensed, fight or flight instincts struggling for control over you. This was help, you thought, there was no reason to get anxious. And yet you were.

The car's speed slowed, the growling engine settling into a quiet snarl when the headlights stopped moving. The car had stopped. The engine cut out, leaving the endless night full of silence. 

You swallowed. 

The cabin light flickered to life, yellow like a Halloween moon, illuminating a lone driver. He was looking at you. Handsome, square jaw and unruly black curls framing his brown skin. His eyes were the same dark shade of black, eyes that seemed to bore into you like a hawk that had caught its prey. 

You swallowed again. Something told you he wasn’t help.

The man stepped out of his vehicle. It was an old car, you understood immediately, probably a 1970's Charger. You didn't really know cars that well, but you’d seen a lot of Supernatural. 

He stalked across the road to you, the sounds of his cowboy boots crunching gravel the only noise that dared disturb the silence. The closer he got, the more of him you saw: streaks of silver in his hair, creases around his eyes and mouth. He was older than he held himself, ageless in his confidence and stature. He leaned against your door and knocked on the window.

Your battery was dead, so you couldn't roll it down. You opened it and he backed up. "Hey," he said, "you okay?" Immediately, your anxiety faded. He must be help. 

"My battery died," you said honestly, "you wouldn't happen to have a signal out here, would you? Or jumper cables?" 

He looked you up and down and then smiled, the act making your system flood with endorphins. He was really handsome. "I don't, have either that is, but I'll give you a lift into town. But only if my car likes you." 

You both laughed, but his felt... fake.It must have been flirting and he must have been nervous that his car would break down: cars that old didn’t function well on narrow roads like these, that’s how lots of people died. "What's your name?" You asked.

He gave you that charming smile again. "Milo. You?"

You have him your name. The two of you walked to his car, Milo petting the doorframe as if he were calming an animal before he opened it for you. 

Up close you could see that the car, despite its age, looked brand new. "She's beautiful." He must have been one of those motorheads that kept his car immaculate and then cried when a bird pooped on it. 

Milo seemed to beam at the compliment. Definitely a motorhead. "Most people call her an ‘it.’" 

You winked playfully. "I know a car is a man's most important tool," you replied.

He gestured to the car and you slipped in. He closed the door after you, the cabin light suddenly going black. "You have no idea." Milo went around to his door and settled in, the light coming on the moment he was touching the car again. Old cars could be finicky like that. "Seatbelt." You obeyed. He turned the key and the Charger roared to life, the headlights flashing red for a moment. You blinked and they were white. 

Milo drove out onto the road. And immediately, your anxiety was flaring, screaming for you to get the fuck out of this car. You ignored your instincts and let him drive, wringing your fingers in your lap as sweat slipped over your skin. And then, just as soon as he'd started driving, Milo pulled over. "I can't do this." 

That agitated your anxiety, bile clawing at your throat. “Can’t do what?” Your voice was shaking.

Milo sighed, put his head on the steering wheel but didn’t cut the engine of his car. Or unlock the doors. “I’ll give you two choices.” He didn’t look at you, his voice low as the engine. “I can kill you and feed your soul to my car, or,” he paused, listening for your reaction, any creaks that indicate you were reaching for the locked door handle. You sat still. Deathly still. 

You shouldn’t have trusted him, but you were too scared to do anything. You sucked in a breath, trying to calm your panicking heart but nothing was working and Milo wasn’t giving you your other option. The option that would reveal that this was a all a funny joke and you’d both laugh and he’d drive you into town. 

He didn’t press. 

You did. “Or?”

Finally, Milo looked at you. “Normally I don’t get passed the first option before they start screaming.” He wasn’t joking. He kept watching you like he was waiting for you to shed your mask of calm and jump on the door, pounding and screaming for freedom. “The other option is to let me fuck you.” The charger’s engine was quiet compared to the impact of his words. 

“Fuck me?” You whispered. Kill you or fuck you? Your instincts were right. You should have run when you’d seen this handsome stranger pull up. “No, I... I think I should go back to my car and pretend I never met you. I won’t tell a soul I saw you, promise.” 

The Charger growled. Milo adjusted his crotch, licking his dry lips. “I’m letting you pick. You won’t get another chance.” Tense silence filled the car despite the roar of the engine. “Normally I would have just smashed your car into a pancake, and you by extension, but I... I have another hunger that I need sated. And I don’t want to play with a... a corpse.” 

Your pulse spiked again. “I think you should let me go,” you said again, “I really think that right now you should unlock this door and let me go.” Your heart was going faster than a startled rabbit’s. Milo wasn’t joking, you could tell by the discomfort on his skin, the itch to do something he wanted: kill or fuck. Oh God, he wasn’t fucking joking. If the car could devour your soul, there was no reason to even attempt the door. You were fucked. Or rather, you were about to be and then he’d feed you to his car.

Milo sighed. The door swung open. You didn’t question it. You bolted. 

You didn’t get far. 

Milo snagged you by the back of your shirt, dragging you across the unpaved road and shoving you onto the trunk of his car. The metal  hit your skull, making it sing inside you. It hurt. Milo pressed you hard against it. “The Charger,” he growled in your ear, “can digest a living body fast. Undead ones are harder on her stomach. Do you want to end up in the trunk, Y/N, or do you want a stranger to fuck you for ten, uncomfortably, pleasant minutes?”

He was pushing into you, his cock hard against your clothed cunt. “Please,” you begged, tears springing to your eyes again, “I just want to go home.” 

You heard him unbuckle his heavy belt, then unzip his jeans. Sweat was forming on your palms. “You’re privileged to have a home.” He yanked down your pants, roughly shoving his thick fingers into your entrance, feeling your slick ring of muscle and stretching you out by spreading his fingers to get ready for him. You whimpered against the Charger which seemed to purr under you, excited for what was about to happen. Milo roughly shoved a thumb into your clit, your knees immediately locking against one another to try and stop him, but Milo was firmly between your thighs. “And you’re privileged to get a choice.” When you didn’t reply he added, “Women usually like me.” 

“They probably aren’t raped on a demonic car,” you hissed at him. 

He paused. “Would you rather be raped in a demonic car?”

Was he being serious? “I’d rather not have any of this happen, actually.” 

He ignored that comment and started rubbing your clit again. His fingers started to slide in and out of you, gathering slick quickly like he knew all the buttons to get you wet and relaxed for him. Once he heard your treacherous cunt start to squelch under him and your muscles suckle at him, he removed his fingers and slipped his cock inside. 

He was undeniably big, filling you completely and then some. Your body tingled from the sensation, a strangled cry escaping your throat. His thick fingers dug into your hips, pulling you back until the head of his cock was kissing your cervix and then pushing in further. You were accommodating him easily, too well. You didn’t like that he was able to play your cunt to whatever tune he liked, but you couldn’t fight back against him or else his car would eat you. 

Slowly, he dragged his cock out and then pushed back in, rocking slowly as the Charger continued to purr under you, warm like the sun was still on it. “It feels good, doesn’t it?” Milo purred, resonating with his car, “I know women like you well, your parts that is. I know how to navigate your cunt until you’re crying.” As if to prove himself, Milo dug into your g-spot suddenly making you cry out. You were glad you couldn’t see his face, you knew he must have been smirking behind you, satisfied with how easily he pulled your puppet strings. 

And then headlights rounded the corner. Milo swore, grabbing you around the waist and pulling you inside the Charger. He slammed the door after him, the cabin lights shutting off the moment he’d settled into the car. 

Another car. A chance to be saved. You started to shout, but Milo covered your mouth and then thrusted up into you, the sensation making your entire body stiffen. It was up to them, they needed to realize you were being held hostage in a demonic car. Tears welled up in your eyes. 

They stopped, saw the two different cars, and the fact that one of them still had their engine going, and seemed to decide that everything was fine before driving off. 

“We can’t stay here,” Milo muttered. He adjusted his seat, pulling back and pushing you against the wheel. “Drive. I’ll mind the gas.” 

His cock was still inside you. His hands were still on your hips. He expected you to drive down a windy, narrow cliff with his fat dick pumping inside your cunt. “No.” You sobbed. “Don’t make me.” 

“Then turn around,” he growled, “and hold onto me. Either way, I’m not done with you.” 

“I’ll kill us,” you sobbed. 

“Then turn around.” 

“You’ll kill us.” You sobbed, again. 

“I won’t.” He was barely giving you a choice again. Reluctantly, you turned to face him, his hands still on your hips to keep his cock where he liked it. Then he pulled your arms behind his neck, adjusted his seat again, and shifted the car to drive. It lurched under him, responding to his touch smoothly as it started its descent down the cliffside. 

Milo put one hand on the wheel on the other on your hip, pinching you to start moving. You swallowed a sob and obeyed. You lifted yourself and speared yourself coming down. Heat gathering at your core. Milo pinched you again and again until you’d built up a solid rhythm, up and down as he drove, trying to ignore the way your body swayed with each turn and how good he felt inside you even though this was the last thing you wanted. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, groaning as he went, the Charger’s engine sounding pleased as it purred down the cliff. It was reacting as if it were being ridden by a terrified stranger. 

“Faster,” Milo snarled in your ear, “move faster.” You obeyed, biting your lip to stop the sob of pleasure and fear. You slammed harder and faster onto him, choking on a moan when you accidentally hit your own g-spot. Milo didn’t seem to mind, pinching your hip to keep you moving. He wanted you to do it again. 

“Please,” you begged, “just let me go.” 

Milo shushed you, “We’re almost done.” He kissed the side of your head, making your stomach twist. “You’re allowed to cum, too.” 

“I don’t want to.” 

He remained silent and pinched your hip. 

You obeyed and swallowed your sobs, fresh hot tears streaming down your face and wetting Milo’s hair. He didn’t seem to mind. You kept riding him and kept swallowing your sobs as his dick hit your g-spot and you had no choice but to cling to him as both your ends were approaching. You were going to cum on a demon’s dick. 

Milo seemed to be growing impatient. He pulled over to the side of the road and put the cark in park before he wrapped his arms around your waist and started slamming into you, fucking you roughly until you were screaming for him to slow down. You didn’t want to cum. You didn’t want to cum. You didn’t—. You screamed as heat enveloped your body, something in your core snapping as your cunt sucked on Milo’s dick for his cum. He shot it inside you, hot and plentiful. Milo didn’t pull you off him, instead burying his face in your neck again. “I like,” he said, “I really, really like you.” 

The driver’s side door swung open and Milo walked out into the night, still inside of you. 

“Are you going to let me go?” Your voice was small.

Milo didn’t respond. He opened his trunk and cold dread welled up in your belly. “I haven’t made up my mind.” And then he was dropping you inside and slamming the trunk closed.  

#raven writes #Milo Sebastian #The Demon Road Trilogy #Demon Road #Desolation #American Monsters #Milo Sebastian x Reader #Ghost of the Highway #Ghost of the Highway x Reader #TW crying #tw non con #tw demonic car #tw demons #x reader #fem reader

[ddarker-dreams]

Hey! So I’ve been binging all your jjba works and I can’t help but notice how appealing and indulging your writing is to the reader and I was wondering if you could give us some tips? I personally find that my writing is more action based that descriptive and emotional, but I would like to expand it so it’s more like yours, as in covering all aspects! Thank you! All my love!💛💖

sweet anon <33 thank you so much aaa i always want my writing to leave that kind of impression... so i’m glad that you view it that way!! i’ll do my best to think of some writing tips, although i’m by no means or a professional!! in no particular order, just what came to mind first! 

1) having a general idea and building off of it might sound intimidating, and everyone has a different process. for me what i’ve found works best is that i go full steam and write what i’m strongly interested in first, and if a section stumps me, i write a note to come back to it later. that way i’m not just staring at the blinking cursor and feeling miserable. keep your flow going by not stressing over details like that yet, you can always come back to them!! and maybe by then, you’ll have a better idea than the one before. placeholders are good and useful.

2) it helps me a lot to get a concrete idea of characters down, so i don’t make them too erratic or self contradicting. i do this by referencing what i think their MBTI is, and coming back to that when i’m thinking of how they’ll do/react to different things. having your own headcanons for characters that you can mix in makes them feel all the more real. like what kind of movies, books, music, hobbies they might have... even if it’s just them mentioning these things in passing, it makes it more interesting (imo). i headcanon fugo as the type to like psychological thriller movies, so i threw that in my latest fic for example 

3) i think the best piece of advice i can give builds off the previous one some. ironically enough i’m not sure how to exactly put it into words, but don’t be afraid to incorporate your passion about things into your work! for example, an AMAAAAZING writer @redbeanb0i who has one of the best giorno fanfics i’ve ever seen in my life has a lot of knowledge on music theory and different books, and i see them include it into their fics!! it adds a lot of personality to stories imo, and makes it even more fun to write since you’re including your interests. a win win.

it’s like that one quote from la la land, “People love what other people are passionate about.” i can’t tell you how many times i’m reading something and i can tell the author was excited to include some knowledge they have in the story, and i loved experiencing it. i think my version of this is how i mention movies and video games in my stories sometimes... but it’s different for everyone. i’m kinda rambling but i hope this makes some sense 😭

#writing advice #brain goes brr when i think about interests #answered #basically...

[tizzymcwizzy]

hi!!! omg can i just you are so so cool and i love your art AAA can i ask for some advice? i want to be an artist here on tumblr too but i'm not super sure how... i know you should just keep posting and sharing your work but it's pretty scary and sometimes discouraging hahahuhu... anyway thank you so so much and keep creating such great art!!!

Some advice on being an artist,, uuuhhhuh I'm flattered you'd come to me, I'll try my best to clamber some tips together!!

Getting started

So, making ur first post! Aaaaah! It's scary isn't it! One thing that helped me start posting my art on Tumblr is to think of it as more of an archive of your art instead of throwing something out into the void and hoping people will see it.

If you view your art as something you are making for yourself and putting it up their for yourself so you have an archive of it, you're less likely to be discouraged. And, if someone else sees it, hey! That's pretty cool!

So in short, don't expect much from your first few posts, and just put them out their for the sake of putting them out there!

Also, if you are worried about posting something that you think looks bad, think about it this way; you miss all of the shots you don't take!!

Getting your stuff seen

Hahaha, this kinda contradicts my first point but whatevs,,

For making ur art look good in a post here are some quick things to look out for,

Make your picture easy to look at!! Make sure that your picture is cropped well and has an easily read composition, people scroll past art pretty fast if it's cropped weird or takes longer than a few seconds to understand the picture (this delves a little into making a good drawing but can be applied to posting ur art). What I do is have a full picture of the drawing, and then some smaller closeups of the details, this helps people appreciate the details of a picture without having to click on the picture, sometimes people don't click on pictures.

Add a caption!! People read images very fast but if you have a quick caption adding context to the art they are more likely to stop and read the caption, looking at your post for longer. Also, adding a caption shows more of your personality and humanizes you, making the drawing look more like a piece of art someone created instead of just a pretty picture.

Tag your posts!! This step is super important because it helps actual eyes see your posts. If you don't put tags then no one will see it and you'll just be posting into the void. I usually use just a couple tags, I'm a bit lazy and don't like to tag excessively, so I'd recommend just using the most popular tags for the thing ur posting. Also, make sure they are spelled correctly!!

Maintaining your sanity

Lastly, make sure you have a healthy relationship with your social media account and platform. Getting sucked in to the numbers is a really painful trap and can hit really hard on your mental health. So remember, you make art for yourself and no one else.

Even though any art medium is really made to be seen cause that's it's purpose as self expression, but!! It's super important that you don't get locked on making art for other people and for the likes and reblogs and follows.

If you feel like you're only making art to post it then try drawing something completely self indulgent that no one has to see. Because when you're just starting to make art, often times you'll look at the drawing and see all it's flaws and wonder, will anyone like this? Is this good in the eyes of others is this good art at all? And that can really discourage a new artist.

So, draw something that is fun! And that no one has to look at and that is just for you, because if you do that then you'll reconnect with the joy of creating, which is the ultimate goal.

Also, if it gets to a certain point where you are constantly checking your notifications, maybe turn off your notifications. If you come back on your social media and see notifications, hey! What a happy suprise! But you won't constantly go checking your notifications and getting discouraged by what you see.

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So all in all, have fun and make art for yourself!! Good luck fellow artists, have fun!!

.｡*♡(´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`)♡*｡.

#wooof sorry for such a long post!!! #hope this helps y'all aaaahh #ask #tizzy's tips