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paganinpurple · 1 year

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AO3 Etiquette -UPDATED

Based on both decent and not so decent replies, I have made some changes to my original post below.

It would seem a whole new kind of AO3 reader/writer is emerging and it is becoming clear not everyone quite understands how the website community works. Here is some basic guidance on how most people expect you to go about using AO3 to keep this a fun community archive that funtions correctly:

As well as likes, kudos is for when the story was interesting enough to make you finish reading. If it sucked or was badly written, you probably left. If you finished it, you liked it - so kudos.

If you really liked it, you should try to comment. It can be long and detailed or a literal keysmash. Writers don't care, we just love comments.

No critisism unless the author has specifically asked or agreed to hear it (so use your notes to say if you want some constructive feedback). Even constructive critisism is a no-no unless an author note tells you it's okay. No, posting it online is not an open invitation for that. Many people write as a fun hobby or a way to cope with, among other things, insecurity and just want to share. Don't ruin that for them. I've seen so many authors just stop writing coz they can't handle the negative emotions the critism brings, and it's only meant to be a fun thing shared for free (pointing out tagging errors is not included in this).

Do not comment to ask the author to write/update something else. It's tacky and off-putting and will probably have the opposite effect than the one you want.

There is no algorithm, it's an archive. Use the search and filter function to add/remove the pairings/characters/tropes etc. you want to read about and it will find you the fics that fit the bill.

For this to work, writers must tag and rate stories. This avoids readers finding the wrong things and missing the stuff they want. I don't care how cringy that trope is in your eyes - it gets tagged.

The tag exception is if you don't want to tag a million things or spoil your story, you can rate it as "chose not to use warnings," and maybe tag the bare minimum.

Don't censor tags. How can someone exclude a tag if the word isn't typed out correctly? There are no content bans for terms so don't censor them.

If the tags are mostly content/trigger warnings, especially if they are things considered very fucked up or graphic, you might want to use "dead dove - do not eat" to ensure people know that you're not messing around with tags and what they get is exactly what you've warned them about.

Character A/Character B means a ROMANTIC or SEXUAL relationship of some kind. Character A&Character B is PLATONIC, like friendship or family.

Nothing is banned. This is an rule because banning one thing is a slipperly slope to banning another and another, until nothing is allowed anymore. Do not expect anyone to censor for you. Because of the tags system, you are responsible for your own reading experience.

People can create new chapters and sequels/fic series any time after they "complete" a story. So it's considered perfectly normal to subscribe, even to a finished story. You can even subscribe to the author instead just to cover your bases.

Do not repost stories or change the publishing date without an extremely good reason (like a complete top to bottom rewrite or an exchange youve written for going public). It's an archive, not social media. No one cares what's the most recent, only what fits their tag needs.

Instead of deleting a story you wrote if you hate it - consider making it anonymous or orphaning it so others can still enjoy it, without it being connected to your name anymore. If you still want to delete it, fair enough.

It's come to my attention that metaworks ARE allowed on AO3, which is something I wasn't aware of. So if you do post an essay or theory, please tag it as such so others can choose to search for it or exclude it. Art is also allowed.

The only reason this archive works is because NON ONE PROFITS. Do not link to your ko-fi or patreon or mention monetary gain in any way or you violate the terms and risk having your account removed. If anyone does link, it leaves the archive open to people claiming it's for profit and having the whole thing removed.

I KNOW there's plenty more I missed but I'm trying to cover most of the basics that people seem to be struggling with.

I invite anyone to add to this, but please explain, don't berate.

#ao3 #using ao3 #archive of our own #fanfiction #fanworks

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helloyellow17 · 1 year

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Idk man I might get torn to shreds for saying this, but I simply cannot understand the new trend, particularly among younger internet users, where people write a laundry list of their triggers in their bio and then expect everyone to read and cater to said list on a PUBLIC PLATFORM.

This is the same mentality that drives people to attack appropriately tagged fics on AO3 for having x y or z content because “How dare you post this when I have trauma about this???” Obviously if someone is going to write a super heavy and highly sensitive fic and NOT tag it properly, they ought to be called out on it. But this isn’t about that, it’s about the people who don’t curate their own content, it’s about the people who enter public spaces and demand that the general public cater to THEM specifically.

Additionally: Listing out your triggers for everyone to see is just ASKING for trolls to come into your inbox and flood you with triggering content. (Unfortunately, as much as we would like to believe otherwise, the internet is full of selfish jerks who don’t give a crap about anybody’s trauma.) Not only this, but the algorithm does not read your bio. The algorithm does not care about your triggers unless YOU make sure to block specific tags and content.

YOU are responsible for curating your own content, and nobody else.

Obviously this is not to say people shouldn’t try to tag their posts for common triggers, because that’s the common courtesy thing to do. But if Becky has a phobia of bees, it is on her to block that tag and curate her feed around it, and she does not get the exclusive right to suddenly demand that nobody talk about bees within a ten mile radius of her. If Alec has a phobia of dogs, then it is well within his right to avoid contact with them, but he doesn’t get to go to a public park and yell at anybody who brings their dog there. It is his responsibility to know his own limits and seek out parks that are dog-free. (If someone brings a dog to a dog-free area, that’s a whole different issue that I won’t be getting into rn but yes, the person who does that is in the wrong there.)

The internet is widely a public space. If you want to create a safe space completely and utterly free of your specific triggers, you have to put the work in to make that space for yourself. You don’t get to ask other internet strangers to do it for you.

I’m saying this out of genuine concern (and admittedly, frustration) because there are so many young teens in fandom nowadays who don’t understand this, and they end up putting themselves in extremely vulnerable and even downright dangerous situations because they don’t understand that putting your well-being in the hands of a stranger is a terrible idea.

Please be safe, and for the love of all that is holy, be reasonable. Curating your content yourself is just as much a protection for you as it is a vital key that allows public communities to function.

#hyramblings #fandom culture #internet discourse #trauma triggers #anxiety triggers #safe space #if I get one person saying “BUT WHAT IF SOMEONE IGNORES X AND DOES IT ANYWAY #we literally went over this #they’re a jerk and have responsibility too #but this ain’t about them rn #ya feel?#internet communities #fandom community

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itspyon · 7 months

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how to adapt into dtblr culture for twitter refugees

so you've decided to move here from twitter. welcome and congratulations. this post is basically a big warning that goes THIS ISN'T TWITTER, DON'T BEHAVE LIKE IT IS, LEAVE THAT AT THE DOOR

i'll be teaching you two things, how the site works, and how to adapt your behavior to tumblr ( and really, normal human being ) culture. believe me, it's not that hard and it will actually feel very productive

let's start with the basics and frequent questions

your username can be anything, don't stress about it

your picture can be anything. a lot of us don't even have dteam related stuff up on our profile

your display name doesn't have to be your name. nobody is going to see it when you post, only usernames are visible

check your settings. do it. get familiar with them. turning on and off asks, turning anon off, turning submissions off. click on your blog, go to blog settings, check things there, go to account, your muted things will be there, go to dashboard and customize that. use your settings !!!

yes, pinned posts are fairly important and they tend to be pretty extensive. name age what you post about ( a lot of people here are multifandom !), just don't overshare ( no locations no trigger lists i beg you ). they also usually have a breakdown of your tags at the end

tags

it's a whole thing. some are actually useful. some are just passive commentary

the tags you put on posts ( both when you made the post and when you're reblogging something ) are both global and hosted on your profile. it's why you'll see things like "nameofperson art" rather than just "art". using just "art" will put you in the promoted tag, in this case

you can use spaces on your tags

usually you will tag what type of post you're making ( art, text post, ask post ), and then the contents keep in mind this is how people often mute things, some people tag the current situation, people use and mute ship tags. but this is also how people find things, like the specific asks from one person to another, so "username ask" is commonly used, "irl person ( dream, dnf, etc )" is also seen a lot just watch how others tag things and copy them. nobody will get offended you took their tag formatting, most of us will appreciate properly tagged posts

you do tag when you reblog people. you use tags to comment on things. don't really use replies unless you're, saying thank you to someone or pointing out a spell mistake or asking to add an option to a poll, etc. we don't do replies, just rb your reply

quick reblog and like deets

post popularity is measured in "notes" which is the sum of replies, reblogs and likes. we don't really care much about numbers here and if you start getting crazy about it people will not like it. this is more of a talking and showing site

you can reblog without tags, feel free to

you can hide your likes. you can and should like as many things as you want. they don't alter any algorithm, since there's none. a like is a "i saw this post" notification to the poster

actually posting

people talk a lot. a fucking lot, and it's something you will have to get used to, because it's very different from twitter

there are no qrts. callouts are looked down upon. breathe. if you don't like something MUTE IT DON'T POST ABOUT IT, because no one is going to listen to any callouts. you will have to learn to live with the fact people like things you don't. this will, with time, make you feel very free

the bulk of posting here is asks, as you might notice soon. asks are fun and encouraged. just don't name drop if you're talking about drama please ?

don't be scared to send asks off anon, this is how people will find you and get to know you really. people are also more likely to reply to you

block bait anons. yes you can block anons. yes it will block every blog they make

culture time

i've said this. tumblr is unserious. drama here is approached very differently and with several less layers of panic. you will see death threats. you will see slurs ( said in non derogatory ways ). you will see jokes about serious topics. you will see people say "i didn't like this" and nobody will care

tumblr is a community of individualism. you will like your own things within the thing we share we like. you might not like dream's music, you might not find irl streams entertaining, as long as you're fucking normal about it ? nobody will care and you're free to express your opinions. people will even come ask you about it and just have a chat. we're here for the same content to some degree

tumblr is also a bunch of people who understand they like another bunch of people. that none of the streamers have stopped being human. so you might see people defend things that, maybe, you'd not have thought to defend before. maybe you're even uncomfortable seeing them defending it. this is something you will experience a lot, and you'll learn to properly deal with it as time passes

because again. no one does callouts here unless it is extremely bad. no one cares if you don't really like them. and they also accept people might and will not like them. and that is fine. and that doesn't make either person horrible. you're just different people. and you don't even have to interact

you want to make friends ? ask people things, compliment people's work, genuinely attempt to make conversation. this is not an impersonal website the way twitter is. people don't care about your opinions because they care about you, and you are more than what you don't like

the more positive and jokey and interactive you are the more people will talk to you. there's no "hitting the algorithm", there's no "engagement", it's just people talking to people. so don't be a neg posting bot, and be a person

you will learn to be less miserable. you learn to stop giving a shit and just do what makes you happy. they cannot get you here. there's no qrts. the few antis you'll find can be blocked and you'll never have to directly interact with one. don't be mean to the people in your own community, even if you disagree

again, you are more than what you don't like. learn to be what you like instead. and leave the dooming at the door

#pyon long post #if you have any questions feel free to ask #i will be happy to attach them with a reblog

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shinestarhwaa · 2 months

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IT's You || JUNG WOOYOUNG

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Wooyoung X Fem Reader

Word Count: 2.2K

Tags/Warnings: College AU, Debate team AU, Enemies to lovers, (sexual) tension, confusion, Dirty language, Namecalling, Unprotected sex, Doggy style, Blowjob, Fingering, Semi-public sex

Taglist: @anyamaris @a-soft-hornytiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @pyeonghongrie-main @woosanbby @dreamlesswonder86 @changbinslovelylegs @jonghostie @lovjensoo @mjyungi @bratty-tingz @sugarnspice630 @stardragongalaxy @bro-atz @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisg00dgirl @vesvosmozhno

ENJOY!

You could not stand his smug face, knowing he completely drove you into a corner and there was no way out for you. "Fuck," you cursed underneath your breath. The timer beeped and his team cheered, knowing they have won. You stammered and tried to say something, anything, but his points were stronger and you agreed with him. It was too hard to come up with another argument. It was too late. "The winner is team TREASURE!"

He looked annoyingly happy while he cheered and jumped up and down with his team. Ugh. You stepped away from the stage and went back to your teammates who tried to comfort you, but you waved them off and sat down next to the table with sweet foods and sulked instead, looking at the winner with a pout.

You stuffed your face full with the chocolate muffins and red velvet macarons until he suddenly stood in front of you, his smug smile still irritating the shit out of you. "Hey, loser," he grinned sheepishly, "I'm just kidding. Good stuff out there, your points and remarks were quite good. Until I completely had you stuck." His laugh sounded like a fucking witch's, how annoying.

"Wooyoung," you sighed, "go back to your teammate's or something and celebrate your victory." "Oh come on Y/N, cheer up, there's more to come, isn't there? Tomorrow night we've got a big one coming again and maybe you'll kick my ass then. Unless you wanna tap it right now," he laughed, sticking out his ass. You rolled your eyes, grabbed the last chocolate muffin and walked off. What a jerk.

It wasn't a secret that you could not get along with Wooyoung, everyone knew it. He annoyed you everytime you were in the same room as him, it's in his nature. When you and him were up against each other everyone came to watch and to place bets on who would win.

Wooyoung was an interesting guy, to say the least. He wasn't too bad looking with his raven black hair, full lips and twinkling eyes. Only if he didn't have this astonishingly annoying personality. He was a know-it-all and he teased you for fun, because he knows just how to trigger you. The little fucker.

Literally little fucker, because the guy wasn't tall at all. He wasn't even that much taller than you and whenever he teased you, you just get him back with his height. But he never let it get him down because he knows he's good and he can wind anyone he wants around his finger. He knows he's wanted by a lot of people so he could not care less, and it kinda made him attractive. What an ass.

You were so glad he's not from your college because you couldn't imagine sitting with him every week, let alone practice with him for the debates. He's a big distraction and he always has been. You hate working with him.

But when you laid in bed that night you weren't just thinking about how to get back at Wooyoung, you also caught yourself thinking about what it would be like if you could corner him in a dark room and make out with him messily.

You looked around your room and bit your lip, anxious as if anyone could have heard your thoughts. God, that was wrong, wasn't it? You should not think of Wooyoung like that. He was the devil, to you. The enemy.

The next day you got up extra early to practice with your team and they were so uplifting. You were very happy with the people in your team because everyone had different aspects they excelled in. Your best friend of nearly 15 years - Seonghwa - was great when it came to empathy, feelings and humanity. Hongjoong could be very direct and Yunho knows a lot of stuff about all kinds of topics.

You put on your best shoes that day for the evening debate, and even dolled yourself up a little. "Flaunt it if you got it," Hongjoong had said with a shrug when he saw you unbutton an extra button of your white shirt. You laughed and rolled your eyes. But he was right, you were going to flaunt it.

Some people would say it's cheating to dress up a little more sexily, but you didn't care. You were subtle about it. You knew just how to define your features and you hoped it might just distract Wooyoung enough for him to fail his debate.

♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡

"And the winner is... TEAM AURORA!" The judge cheered loudly, and you squeeled out of excitement, jumping into the arms of your teammates. This time Wooyoung was left stammering, defeated. He stared at you but it wasn't with disgust in his eyes, but as if he was gonna hunt you down. And eat you up.

"You did so well," Yunho said with a huge smile, "I'm so proud of you Y/N! You totally killed him!"

You laughed and buttoned your shirt up a little more again. "It worked, didn't it?" "It did, I think, but I'm sure you didn't need it, you were so strong up there! You're amazing even if you don't show off, Y/N," Seonghwa commented, placing a gentle kiss on your head.

Feeling overwhelmed you decided to walk into the library with the glass of alcohol free champagne to cool down. You sat on the large table in the middle of the room and closed your eyes for a second, only to open them again because the door opened loudly. Wooyoung.

"What do you want?" You sighed. "You think I didn't realize what you were doing up there?" He grunted as he came closer. "What? Winning? Being smarter than you? Don't we all know that, Jung?"

"You shut your mouth, Y/L/N. You only won the contest of who's the greatest whore." You gasped, wide eyed. "Excuse me?" "You heard me," he smirked. "The only whore here is you, Jung. I don't sleep around with everyone on my campus."

"But you're willing to use your body to win a contest, aren't you?" Your blood was boiling now. How dare he just say these things about you? "It's a little sad, Y/N, that you need to use your body in order to be good enough for this contest." Now you've had it.

You jumped off the table and pushed Wooyoung against the wall, hands pressed on his toned chest. "You keep my name out of your damn filthy mouth," you huffed before kissing him hard on the lips. You had no idea what you were doing, why you were doing this. Why were you doing this?

To your surprise he kissed you back, hands roaming over your back and then over your ass, sliding under your skirt a little and feeling the bare skin of your butt. The kiss was rough and messy, sloppy when his tongue entered your mouth.

Your skirt slid up the more you moved around and soon enough your whole ass was out. Wooyoung turned the two of you around, now pining you against the wall. He slid down the tiny thong you were wearing under your plaid skirt and he slid his hand between your thighs.

"You're so wet baby, you really are a whore, aren't you?" You gasped when his fingers touched your clit. "The fuck I'm not," you cursed, ripping his shirt off and undoing his tie. Wooyoung slid 2 fingers inside your cunt and pushed them in deep, making you moan out.

"Well you're taking my fingers like a whore," he commented before attacking your neck with little bites and messy, wet kisses. "You're a fucking dick, Wooyoung," you moaned. "Hm, you wish for my dick inside you, sweetpea."

His skillful fingers moved quickly and curled just right to hit the right spots inside of you. He covered your mouth to muffle your moans and your hands clawed at his back and his chest, digging your nails into the soft honey skin.

"That's it baby, I can feel you clenching, you must be close already hm? Are you so pent up? Pent up with all that stress? Is that why you act like such a bitch the whole time? Because no one's fucking you right? Is that why you're dressed like a whore, huh?"

Two of his fingers entered your mouth and you whined around them, slightly biting down on them to stop yourself from screaming as you came hard. Wooyoung removed his hand from your cunt and licked the cum off his fingers with a big smirk.

"Fuck," you breathed out as he unbuttoned your shirt, revealing the tiny bra you were wearing. "You're such a little slut, Y/N, look at yourself," he cursed before diving his face into your chest, licking a stripe up from the valley between your breasts to your neck and jawline.

"Fuck off, Jung, look at how hard you are for me. You keep shaming me for looking like this but you fucking love it don't you? Aren't you embarrassed you've gotten so hard for a little slut like me?"

You pushed him back onto the wall and you dropped to your knees. The cold tiles of the floor would definitely leave marks later but you didn't care. You unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and pulled them down. He wasn't wearing any underwear, which resulted in his cock immediately springing free against your face.

Wooyoung's cock was bigger than you expected and fuck, was it sexy. It was so thick and the head was so pretty and pink like his lips. Thick veins ran up the shaft like on his arms and his balls were big and heavy, waiting to release.

You took the tip of his cock in your mouth and swirled your tongue around it. Wooyoung threw his head back and moaned, eyes rolling back into his head when he felt you take more and more into your mouth. You bobbed your head up and down his shaft, saliva leaking out of your mouth and dripping down to his balls.

"Fuck, such a messy little whore, sloppy little slut. Bet your cunt will be so sloppy and slutty too when I fuck it. Bet it's so tight. Cause you're an uptight little bitch, Y/L/N, fuck, can't fucking stand you."

Wooyoung rambled on while you deepthroated his cock. You felt him twitch in your mouth, signaling you he was close to coming. You let go of his cock with a loud pop, and panted heavily. "If you hate me so much why are you letting me suck you off, hm"

"Stop being a stupid fucking brat. Fuck, I'm gonna fuck that tight little cunt of yours now. Get up and bend over," he ordered. His hands were rough on your body as he pulled you up and bend you over just as he said.

Your bare chest hit the cold wood of the table and the cold air breezed over your exposed ass. You whined when you felt Wooyoung push his cock into your tight hole. It had been so long someone's fucked it right and you definitely had never had a cock like his inside you. You hated to admit it but it felt like fucking heaven to you when he stretched you out.

"That's right, feel how your slutty little pussy is taking my dick so well? That's what you're good for Y/N, for taking cock. You should just let me do the debating and wait for me with your cunt on display so I can fuck it right after."

"God, Wooyoung just fuck me, fuck me hard, use my pussy, please," you begged. He didn't waste any more time, pounding into you like there was no tomorrow. He reaches spots inside you, you had never even touched before and soon enough you were crying out his name.

It felt so fucking right to have him inside you. Somewhere deep inside you wanted him to slow down and savor the moment because you didn't want it to end. But God, the way he used you just felt so good.

"Fuck, not gonna stop fucking you, baby girl, gonna rail you 'til the fucking break of dawn, understood?"

"Y-Yes! Yes, fuck me, use me all night long, please, I'm yours, make me see stars, use my pussy, I'm yours," you cried loudly. Wooyoung moaned in response. He wasn't a quiet guy and right in this moment you loved it. You loved that he wasn't shy about letting himself go and you wondered if anyone might be listening to you on the other side of the door.

"Baby, fuck, my good slut, gonna fuck you full with my cum, gonna fuck all my cum into your slutty pussy," he moaned. You felt his cock twitch inside you and you cried out a few please's before his thrusts got sloppy and he released inside of you.

He slid his cock out and tapped it on your cunt a few times, making you mewl and squirm beneath him. "This isn't fucking over, Y/L/N. Gonna play with you all night long. I might've lost that debate but I'll still fucking win."

#kpop #ateez #smut #shinestarhwaa #wooyoung

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justsomeectoplasm · 11 months

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Hhhuugh so the reddit incident came and went but I know there's going to be a handful of twitter users that don't know jackshit about tumblr and are migrating here. Honestly it's valid that you all jumped ship because there's only going to be two outcomes to this:

-Muskratatouille is going to realise he fucked up and remove the rate limit.

- He refuses to admit his mistake and kills twitter.

So welcome! I hope you like my blog. Here's a revamp of some things you need to know before interacting with me and some general notes you need to know:

Massive porn bot problem here that can actually harass you and other users by sending porn through dm's and asks. Also shares malicious links to sites which is a big no-no. Therefore, PUT A DAMN PFP AND CUSTOMIZE YOUR BLOG, AND REBLOG POSTS. That's the only way to let people know that you're not a bot and that you're 100% a living breathing human. Lurking only works through reblogging without adding tags. (Side note: irl Hot lady pfps are not that great. Bots use them all the time. Anime hot lady is fine.)

Likes do jackshit. Tumblr is more of a blogging website than a social media platform. The way it circulates and brings attention to posts is by a sharing system called reblogging. If you really want to support artists, writers, game devs or just wanting your friends to see some funny posts, reblog it. (Reblogging artists work is not the same as reposting on this site. It helps us.)

Tags are your friends in this site. You can use them to navigate through content of your favorite subjects or you can add your thoughts to them. They can also help sort out your own original posts on your blog. (for example I use 'I ramble' on posts that have nothing to do with my fandoms.)

If you censor a word I will personally break your computer. You can say whatever the hell you want on this website and you won't get in trouble (unless it's hate speech, which you can report.)

Pt 2 of the above point: The reason why I'm so adamant on this point is because tumblr has a filter system. Users use this system to filter out content and tags that they don't want to see. This helps a lot for people with triggers and over all curating your online experience. By censoring words, you are bypassing these filters and doing more harm then good. Don't censor your words. If you want to use this feature go to settings and click on "content you see".

Pt 3. With that said, please please tag your posts if they have triggers or upsetting material. Whether you do dark content or not, it is important to tag your posts if they have a well known trigger.

There is no algorithm. You create it using tags. Your post going viral is a 50/50 gamble and you better hope it's a post that's actually great.

You can block anonymous askers since you need to use an account to send asks. Have fun.

Blocking users is much more effective. You can't see or interact with their posts and vice versa. Go wild.

#twitter

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andorerso · 2 months

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INTRODUCING REBELCAPTAIN SMUT WEEKEND MONTH

I'd made a promise to make something smutty, and I'm here to keep that promise. In the legacy of the much beloved Rebelcaptain Smut Weekend, I'm organizing a Rebelcaptain Smut Weekend Month! Since I felt like a single weekend was just not enough time for all the smutty goodness, I thought why not do four weekends instead? This gives us more to look forward to and more time to create.

SCHEDULE: the event will run during May, every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday (so that means May 3-5, 10-12, 17-19, and 24-26)

RULES

✩ the obvious ones: your creation has to be about Jyn and Cassian, and since it's a smut themed month, it should be at least a little spicy!

✩ I'll be using the tag rcsmutmonth for organization. feel free to tag your creations with it too so we can all find each other's works!

✩ no sign-ups required, anyone can participate. if you see a prompt you like, and you want to make something for it, go ahead!

✩ any type of fanwork is welcome! fanfic, fanart, gifset, graphics, rec lists... you name it.

✩ I provided nine prompts for each weekend as inspiration, but don't feel constricted if you don't like them. the point of this event is to encourage more smutty content for our beloved ship, so if you have other ideas in mind, go for it! as for the prompts, use as many as you like and mix them up if you want to.

✩ generally, I encourage you guys to post on the weekend, but don't feel bad if you can't get it done on time. this is a low-commitment, low-pressure event. we're all busy irl so if you're lagging a little behind, post it anyway! we'll be happy to see it whenever it's ready <3

✩ tag appropriately! if triggers or kinks appear in your work, don't forget to list them.

✩ any other questions, thoughts, ideas? let me know! this is my first time organizing such an event, so I'm sure I'm forgetting something

PROMPTS UNDER THE CUT

✩ May 3-5

last night on earth sex ┃ distraction ┃ "Touch me already."

sex pollen ┃ aphrodisiac ┃ "Tell me how much you want me."

"we're alive" sex ┃ birthday ┃ "I want you to take whatever you need from me."

✩ May 10-12

wet dream ┃ forbidden┃ "Want me to stop?" "Don't you dare."

hate/angry sex ┃ favor ┃ "We can wait if you want-" "We've waited long enough."

praise kink ┃ possessive ┃ "Tell me I'm the one. Tell me there's no one else."

✩ May 17-19

orgasm denial ┃ strip ┃ "Do I need to tie you up?"

snowed in ┃ undercover ┃ "Convince me this is real."

under the stars ┃ uniform ┃ "Say my name. I want to hear you say it."

✩ May 24-26

make-up sex ┃ elevator ┃ "I can’t get off unless I’m thinking about you."

accidental voyeurism ┃ sparring ┃ "Think we'll get caught?"

reunion sex ┃ honeymoon ┃ "On your knees, Captain/Sergeant."

#rebelcaptain #therebelcaptainnetwork #dailyrebelcaptain #rcsmutmonth #swfandomevents #rogue one #jyn erso #reblogs appreciated even if you don't plan to participate #let's spread the word <3 #im weirdly nervous i've never done anything like this before #cassian andor

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siriusleee · 1 year

Text

always

You watch as he lifts his fingers up to lick the mixture of you and him off of them. The sight makes your stomach flip, and you dig your nails into the comforter. "I meant what I said," Ghost says, hand settling against your stomach - a reminder that even if you tried to leave, you'd still be tethered to him. "I know." triggers/tags: dubcon, non-con, blood, fighting, simon is a jealous bastard, squirting, (I never know what to put here). Read all my works here. Find my A03 here.

You can't remember the name of the soldier that presses you against the wall - you had barely paid attention to it when he told it to you. His lips, chapped and tasting of cheap beer, trail down your neck as his fingers inch towards the zipper on the back of your dress. His teeth nip at your flesh and you shiver beneath him the alcohol making both of your movements clumsy.

You hadn't meant to find yourself here - you didn't even want to come to this stupid military ball, but Soap had managed to convince you to get dressed up.

"He won' be there."

You didn't need to ask Soap to elaborate; getting dressed up and going out wasn't exactly Ghost's thing. He wouldn't be seen with you out in public unless someone held a gun to his head. You didn't ask Soap how he knew about the fallout between you and Ghost; you just let him drag you to the location with promises of free alcohol.

It had been a waste of time until you'd found someone who promised they'd fuck you right if you gave them half the chance. You weren't going to let him until you'd caught sight of Ghost.

The two of you had been orbiting around each other for weeks, broken pieces who had found each other - and then broke apart again. He'd left you behind weeks ago, telling you that he didn't want you anymore, that he couldn't keep seeing you. It had killed you, and seeing him tonight, not even dressed for the occasion, had brought back all the sharp edges you'd cut yourself on when he left. You drank more than you were supposed to until you could get enough courage to say yes when this guy offered to bend you over and fuck you enough to make you feel better.

You had needed something - anything - to take your mind off of Ghost.

His hands hike up your skirt, and two of his fingers loop in your panties. He kisses you at the base of your neck, sucking a bruise there.

His warmth is jerked away from you; your eyes shoot open to find Ghost holding him by the back of his dress uniform. Ghost shakes the guy once, who tries to swing free. Ghost drops the guy to the ground, and follows him down.

You watch in shock as Ghost slams his fist into the guy, his eyes are emotionless behind his mask.

"Ghost stop! Stop!"

You wrap your hands around his wrist, trying to pull him away from the man crumpled below him on the floor. Ghost pulls his hand out of your grip, and shoves you away. You stumble back; he grabs the guy by his collar and lifts him up just enough so that the man is looking at Ghost beneath the blood streaming down his forehead.

"If you ever even look at her again, I will kill you."

He drops the guy and stands, blood staining his knuckles. Ghost turns towards you, and for the first time, you see him like the men on the field must see him: a specter of fear. You take half a step back from him; he crosses the distance between the two of you in two strides. He grips you by the elbow and pulls you behind him and out of the back of the building.

He doesn't speak to you as he drags you back to the hotel, past the night security guard who looks over his desk at the two of you in shock.

Ghost shoves you into his hotel room; you stumble over the hem of your dress. Before you can do anything, Ghost is behind you, gripping your hair, pulling your head back so he can kiss you. He tries to force your lips apart, but you pull back, biting down on his lip until you taste blood. He jerks his hand, pulling your hair until you gasp, fingers clenched in his shirt as you try to push him away. His nose trails down your neck; you try to shove him off and away, try to extract yourself because you know you aren't strong enough to do this again, to go through all of this again. To hear him say he doesn't want you again.

He fights with you as he drags your dress up, the sequins scraping roughly against your skin. Your knees collide with the edge of the bed, knocking you off balance. Ghost lets you fall and he follows. He wraps his fingers around the front of your panties and drags them down. You kick and he catches your ankle, sliding your panties off of one leg.

You know you aren't strong enough to fight back, to get him to stop. His fingers explore you - you realize with a pang that you had missed the feeling of him against your skin.

You refuse to make a noise for him; you know as soon as you do - as soon as you show any bit of pleasure, of weakness, at his actions that you're going to be lost again; drown in him without sight of the shore. Ghost's nails dig into the soft skin behind your knees, hands wrapping around your thighs to pin you down beneath him.

He bites down hard on your thigh, and your hand pushes against the top of his head, fingers digging into the fabric of his mask. You try to push him away as his tongue laps at the divots left by his teeth.

"Ghost stop it - get off I-"

You're cut off by your body betraying you, back arching against Ghost's mouth as he traces one tight circle with his tongue against your clit. You still don't make a sound.

Ghost releases one of your knees, his fingers tracing up the inside of your thigh before scraping down, the sting stoking the fire inside of you. You try to reach down and push his hand, but Ghost shoves your hand away.

He pulls his mouth away from you just long enough to tease you with his thumb before his fingers dip into you - it stings, he's never been this rough with you before you think as he pushes in slowly. He fucks his fingers into you; you can feel yourself dripping down his wrist and onto your thighs. Your grip on his mask weakens when his mouth joins his fingers. He slips another finger inside of you and you can't think, can't hardly breathe from how filled you are with him. You want him to move faster; you try to will him to speed up, and like how can always read you, his pace quickens.

It's disgusting: the sounds of the two of you in the quiet room; the wet sound of his fingers stretching you out, the sound of his breathing, ragged and broken against your skin.

The knot inside you tightens, and before you can try to steel yourself, it loosens. You cum against his fingers, body shaking and teeth clenched to keep from giving him the satisfaction of hearing you. Ghost pulls away, tongue lapping at you, tracing your thighs. You realize - your chest starts to burn red - that you've squirted against his fingers and he's trying to lick it up. Your head is swimming, the alcohol in your system burning through you with the feeling of Ghost.

"You think that fuck could have gotten you this wet? That he could fuck you like I can?"

You have to unclench your jaw to speak, your voice shaking.

"Of course, he could."

It's a lie, but you don't want to give him the satisfaction of telling him he's right: that he's ruined you for anyone else. That you don't even think of anyone else. That when that guy was kissing you, you were imagining it was Ghost. You feel it - the restraint Ghost had been showing you snap. His fingers disappear from you, and on instinct you lift your hips, searching for him again. He shifts, the bed springs groaning beneath his weight. His warmth leaves you; you open your eyes, wondering what effect your words had on him.

You barely get a moment to push yourself up onto your elbows before he's jerking you up out of the bed, his hands wrapped tightly around your upper arms. He holds both of your hands in one of his as he shoves your panties all the way off of you. He jerks your dress down, you hear the expensive fabric tear.

"Ghost -"

"Shut up."

He strips you, and your eyes refuse to leave him despite the vulnerability that clings to the both of you. He's seen you naked before but this moment, with the anger and want swirling between the two of you, is the most vulnerable you've ever felt near him. He turns to sit on the bed, pulling you down with him. You try weakly to break away, to pull away, but he tightens his grip. He settles onto the bed, pulling you down on top of him. He holds you captive with one arm, the other forcing your legs apart so he can put his thigh between the two of them.

You bury your nose in his neck and smell the cigarette smoke and gunpowder, the metallic smell of blood that never seems to leave his skin, and the detergent you bought for him weeks ago.

His hand comes down hard on your ass, the skin stinging beneath his rough palm. His hand lingers there, fingers teasing the edge of you. His hand connects again, and you try to jerk away, but the arm that's holding you down tightens pushing your chest harder onto the soft fabric of his shirt.

His hand connects with the spot a third time, and this time you let out a whimper in his ear. His knee jerks upwards and you grind down, trying to find some sort of release, some way off of this ledge Ghost has led you to. You whimper again as he doesn't stop, your hips tilting against his knee to find the sweet spot. You're so sensitive, the rough fabric of his jeans against your swollen cunt enough to make you nearly shatter.

You bite down on his shoulder; you feel him shudder beneath you as you bite down harder, moaning against his skin and trying uselessly not to let him hear. He doesn't stop until you finish, grinding down on his thigh wildly. The air stings against your raw skin, and you know tomorrow it'll hurt.

Ghost drops you, shoving you off of him. You're too dazed from your orgasm and from his treatment to do anything. You watch weakly as he pulls his shirt off, a bloody mark on his shoulder where you bit down. You're glad the mark will be on him for a few days - a constant reminder of you.

His hands work at his belt, fumbling over the buckle. You almost reach out to help him, but you remember how you found yourself here. Instead, you slide down and make yourself comfortable, but your eyes never leave him. He finally gets his belt off and shoves his jeans off. He palms himself as he crawls over you. You break your gaze away from him to stare at the wall. His fingers dip under your chin, trying to get you to look at him, but you resist. Annoyed, his hand grips your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

He's pressed up against you, the tip of him barely brushing against you. You resist the urge to shift your hips, to slide him into you.

"I should never have said what I did. Watching that fucker touch you - he should be glad I didn't kill him there. I would have if you would have asked, that's all it would have taken. I will always want you. You are mine, and I am yours. Do you understand?"

He lets go of your jaw, hand tracing up the tender and bruised flesh to tangle in your hair, to pull your jaw up enough to show the sensitive flesh of your neck.

"I understand, Ghost."

That's all it takes. His hand, gentle in your hair, fists and he slams into you, hard enough that you try to pull away, but he holds you down, holds you against himself as he fucks you in a way he'd never done before.

You'd missed the feeling of him filling you up, of the way it felt like he completed you. You try to moan beneath him, but his body weight is pressing all the air out of your lungs. Your nails scratch at his back, hard enough that you're sure he will have bloody scratches tomorrow.

He's whispering in your ear, low and quick.

"No one is allowed to touch you ever, but me. I am-"

His voice cuts off as he jerks away from you, pulling out just long enough to flip you over. His hands are bruising on your hips as he jerks you back, one hand pushing down between your shoulder blades to make your back arch.

You bite down on the sheets, trying to keep from unraveling. Another climax is building inside of you; Ghost grips your ass, slamming you back into him. Your walls grip him tighter as you finish again, a scream smothered into the mattress. Ghost folds down on top of you, one hand wrapping around your neck to give him leverage to fuck you harder until finally, he stills.

He doesn't linger there - he pushes himself up and away from you. You try to roll over, but he pushes you back onto the bed. His fingers trace down your back before dipping down. You feel him drag his fingers up your thigh before pushing into you. Your face burns when you realize he's pushing his cum back into you, to fill you up with him. To remind him that you belong to him.

Ghost shifts, collapsing on the bed beside you, his mask pulled up around his nose.

You watch as he lifts his fingers up to lick the mixture of you and him off of them. The sight makes your stomach flip, and you dig your nails into the comforter.

"I meant what I said," Ghost says, hand settling against your stomach - a reminder that even if you tried to leave, you'd still be tethered to him.

"I know."

#simon ghost riley #my fics #ghost cod #ghost cod x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost cod x you #ghost #simon riley smut #ghost smut #ghost call of duty #cod smut #cod x reader #cod fanfic #mw2 smut

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reasonsforhope · 7 months

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Heads up/warning that I'm going to start posting articles related to the Israel-Palestine War

I've worked really, really hard to keep my blog about positive news only, and that's going to continue - these posts will be only about good news related to the war.

Of which there really, really isn't much, so I don't know that there will be a lot of posts, but I will be posting articles about humanitarian aid reaching those who need it and actions that will prevent more lives from being taken.

I know that, no matter my position on the war, this is something that would be very controversial and make a lot of people upset, so I wanted to be explicit about my position on this - and my posting policy, which is not the same thing. I also wanted to give people a heads up because I know the war in general is really, really triggering for a lot of people right now, for a lot of different reasons. I'll be tagging all relevant posts, so if screening those out is something that you need to do, you can.

I have worked very hard to make this blog a space with only good news because I know how much it can matter to have just one place, if nowhere else, that you can count on to not give you emotional whiplash with horrible news. To know you have one place you can go where you are guaranteed not to see bad news that will send you into a tailspin. That's why I've had a policy of not including signal boosts or PSAs about tragedies, no matter what they are, on this blog. (I do post about some of that stuff, including the Israel-Palestine War, on my main blog, though. I consider this blog to be me trying to run a public service, basically, and so have specific policies for myself around that, including my editorial and fact-checking standards.)

I'm going to be honest, I was really, really hoping the war would end after a couple of weeks, which has historically not been uncommon for wars with/involving Israel.

But that's clearly not happening, and I can't keep not acknowledging what's happening on here, so, this post.

With that, I imagine people probably want to know my actual stance on the war, since that's what I'll be posting in accordance with.

So, here's the official stance of this blog:

Every time a civilian is killed, it is a tragedy; Every time a child is killed, it is a tragedy, no matter their nationality. I condemn all antisemitism and all Islamophobia.

I support all calls for a ceasefire, as well as demands that Israel immediately stop its repeated bombing of hospitals, ambulances, shelters (including UN shelters), and refugee camps.

There is no situation in which the repeated and/or intentional bombing of hospitals is justified.

There is no situation in which the repeated and/or intentional bombing of shelters or refugee camps is justified.

There is no situation in which the repeated and/or intentional bombing of ambulances is justified.

There is no situation in which the killing of children is justified. Yet more children have now been killed in Gaza than in all global conflict zones combined in each year since 2019.

There is no situation in which cutting off an entire country and/or territory's supply of food and water is justified.

Yes, this applies to every group involved in the war, including countries supplying either side, and any countries or non-state organizations who may yet join the fighting.

The initial Hamas attack on Israel was a tragedy. The continued Israeli bombardment and invasion of Palestine is also a tragedy.

Most of the things I post will be about aid reaching Palestinians or news about tangible, confirmed progress toward a ceasefire. I probably will not be posting good news posts about aid reaching Israel, unless it's explicitly and only humanitarian and/or barring drastic unforeseen changes in circumstance. This is because as of yesterday, November 7, the Palestinian death toll is over 10,000 to Israel's roughly 1,400 (only about 200 of whom have been killed in the past month, starting on October 8, aka outside of the initial attack by Hamas). At least 3,195 children have died in Gaza, 33 in the West Bank, and 29 in Israel.

The Palestinian death toll is nearly 8 times the Israeli death toll. The number of children killed is 110 times higher in Palestine than Israel. (Source for death toll here, ratios via calculator.) Every single one of those deaths is a tragedy - and there have been far, far too many tragedies this past month.

(On a related note, Israel stands very, very little chance of actually eliminating Hamas with this war. The US has attempted this same strategy and failed many times: the US failed to eliminate the communist/North Korean regime in the Korean War, which is technically still ongoing 70 years later; failed to eliminate the Viet Cong in the Vietnam War; failed to eliminate numerous groups of Iraqi insurgents in the Iraq War, which triggered Iraq's civil war; and failed to eliminate the Taliban in the Afghanistan War, even though that war lasted for literally 20 years. Afghanistan is once again under total Taliban control.)

The last thing we need is another 20 year war. The last thing we need is more civilian deaths. Bombing civilian settlements, as well as hospitals, shelters, and refugee camps are war crimes under international law, meaning that both Israel and Hamas have committed war crimes.

It's time for the war crimes to stop.

Humanitarian aid reaching civilians is good news, and I will be posting accordingly.

Ceasefire now.

#also heads up that I'm turning off anon on here because well it seems prudent #I'm not actually going to litigate technicalities numbers or international politics with anyone #I don't plan to talk much more about this aside from the aforementioned posts #including probably not answering any asks #because I really am trying to keep my content based only on good news #any asks that are trolling or threatening or supporting the deaths of any civilians on either side or are obviously in bad faith #will be deleted immediately #which has always been my blog policy btw so that's not anything new #I do actually get a certain number of troll and insulting asks/replies and I just delete them #also I reserve the right to turn off asks altogether but hopefully there won't be any need for that #mostly those happen whenever I have a new anti Trump post #gaza #save gaza #palestinians #isreal #free palestine #gazaunderattack #israel palestine war #international politics #cw child death #tw war #tw war crimes #tw child death #tw bombing #ceasefire #ceasefire now

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morallyinept · 7 months

Text

A Loving Ode To The Writers (And A Big 🖕🏻 To The Haters)

Friends,

I want to take a moment to talk about writers.

The amazingly talented writers, here in this Pedro fandom collectively (although it applies to all writers in any fandom really).

Whether you're an established writer here, or just starting out, I love you. You all rock. You're all incredible. Keep going and doing your thing, because you're so amazing at it. 🖤

No matter what anyone else tries to tell you...

Yes, I also want to address the idiots who feel entitled to send anon messages to you giving you tiresome grief about your work... sigh. 🙄

Think about this for a moment, if you will...

When you go into a bookshop, or choose to purchase a book online, do you have several tags listed on the back cover?

No.

Do you have the author of that book listing every single possible trigger/smut warning?

No.

Do you have the author writing an extensive author's note explaining their thought process, or how it came to be that Joel got with Reader, or stating that they're not sorry for this brain rot they produced at 2am whilst high, or apologising in advance if they spelled something wrong, or whatever?

No.

All you have is a book, a singular book, with a cover and a small paragraph with a basic plot blurb, that alludes to nothing juicy or that will spoil it. Because if the book gave away the full plot on the back cover, all the warnings and triggers etc... what's the point in even buying it, right? You already know the story. Job done.

Generally, readers will buy a book for these reasons:

1) The cover looked awesome and drew you in to read the synopsis.

2) The synopsis drew you in, or a review.

3) It's by an author you already love, so you read everything they release because you're a fan of their work.

4) It was recommended to you.

5) You brought it/were gifted it on a whim.

None of these reasons give you any prior knowledge to the outcome or ending of the story. You haven't met the characters yet. You don't know what's going to happen. Unless you actively look for spoilers...

That's the joy about reading stories. You're left surprised, not knowing.

With posting fanfic, there are slightly different "rules" (and I use quotation marks here because strictly speaking, there are no rules; it's just decades and decades of assumption and expectation that writers follow out of respect and care for their readers) in that the writer provides you with adequate warnings, or tags, for you to make an informed choice about whether this fic is something you want to read or not.

But, they don't have to do that.

The writer, also might offer a pairing, or mulitple. The writer might also warn you of triggers, or if a particular chapter is smutty, heavy, angsty etc...

Again, they don't have to do that.

No published book out there does this.

So, if that's the case, that writers here on Tumblr, and in fanfiction in general, not only spend hours of their free time in their personal life, dedicating themselves to writing a story, that you get for FREE, they also provide you with adequate warnings and pairings to cater to your particular tastes.

Again, they don't have to do any of this.

Remember that book in the bookshop? It does none of what fanfic writers do for you before you even get to the story... They've done all this for you before you get to the first sentence on your screen.

So you can make a choice, that is your own, on whether you want to read this story or not.

Your choice.

So, if you then choose to read it, are you really so entitled to then send an anon message telling the writer you didn't like it? When it was clearly signposted with all the possible warnings, outcomes, troupes, pairings... and was for free??

Imagine that, free stories that you can read as often as you like, for FREE... wow. What a fantastic concept!

☝🏻And that's not sarcasm. It's truly fantastic that there are thousands, upon thousands of stories here for you to trawl through and enjoy to your heart's content.

All. For. Free.

Catering to every Pedro Boy, every Reader type, every kink going. Fluff, smut, angst, romance, horror, thriller, crack fic. Multi-chapter series, one shots, drabbles. Happy endings, open endings, no endings... you name it.

You have it all here at your fingertips, whenever you want.

All. For. Free.

A lot of time and work goes into writing any kind of story, not just fanfic. Depending on a writer's skill level, it may take them longer than you may realise to complete a story from initial conception to birth.

English may not be their first language, for example. Or they may be dyslexic so have to spend additional time editing several times over so you can read their words coherently.

They may have spent weeks, months, maybe even years, planning, gathering and summoning the courage to write this story.

The story doesn't start on the page, oh no. It starts as a spark in their brain that ravages and spreads like a fire.

It's consumes them. Causes sleepless nights.

Causes stress and tension in their personal life because they've spent more time in front of their computer typing, than they have walking the dog, hugging their partner, socialising with their friends... remembering to feed themselves.

You may think that's a dramtic or romantic notion of being a writer, but I assure you, it's not.

It might not apply to all writers, but for some, writing IS their life. They live it, breathe it, far more than you care to imagine.

Far more than you give them credit for.

They've poured their heart and soul into this and are proud that, finally, fucking finally! It's on the page for the world to see. To read. To enjoy.

To pick apart scathingly... to critique. To compare. To belittle. To mock. To diss.

To demand.

You think writing is easy? That writers just bash out 10k words on a whim? Sweet delusion I hardly knew ye.

Even the most published and revered authors in this world will tell you it's anything but easy, bub.

Imagining a story in your head is the easy part. Getting it on paper to translate your thoughts into captivating words? Not so much.

And writer's block is certainly a real thing, FYI. Made all the more worse by pressure being piled on.

Pressure from readers who have the choice whether to read or not. Who have all these stories for free...

☝🏻And I'm not talking about readers in general. No. There are so many amazing and respectful readers here who are an incredible and integral part of this community. And I, for one, thank you, dear readers, for doing just that; reading.

Without you, no-one would read or share our words. You guys are the main cog in this clock, and as writers we want to keep you greased up so you keep ticking. We love your enthusiasm for our work. We love that you share it, shout about it, want to see more of it. You guys deserve all the love. 🖤

But sadly, there are also a select few individuals who crawl out of the woodwork, scittering around and shitting over things like the insects they are.

Respect. I've said it before, I'll continue to say it. Respect costs nothing. And yet, some readers find that to be an alien concept.

Think about the stories you really love.

Think about the one story you couldn't get out of your head for days. The one story that made you cry into your pillow. The one story that gave you hope when you really needed it the most.

The one story that made you fall in love. That one story you've read a hundred times, a thousand times, because you love it so fucking much and it changed you in some way.

Somebody wrote that.

Writers bend over backwards for you until their spines snap. Writers give so much of their heart into their work, their blood.

Writers give you the books you love, the shows you enjoy. The blogs you follow, the films you go to see. The fanfiction you consume.

Without writers, entertainment would not exist.

🤔 Ponder that for a second... you'd have nothing. No internet, no TV, no books, no magazines.

No imagination.

Writers give you chills, make you smile, make you cry, turn you on, excite you with their words. They lead you into unexplored lands, take you to new heights.

Writers hand your idol to you on a page, naked and panting for you, and say "here, this is my gift for you, dear reader. Have him."

Writers give you an escape.

Writers give you something to do on your commute to work. Writers offer an extension on your inner fantasies.

You want to have Joel Miller hug you and never let you go? Carry you out of the apocalypse as you cling onto his broad shoulders? Fuck you so hard into the mattress you're screaming for him?

Writers can give you that, bub.

Hell, writers will give you anything you ask for, within reason. All you have to do is simply ask.

Writers pull you into a world where anything, literally anything you want, is possible.

And fanfic writers give you all of this. For FREE.

You don't have to go to the bookstore and part with your hard earned cash.

You paid no money for this. The writer made no money from this either.

Writers don't ask you for anything except for you to enjoy their work, their creation, and to consider re-blogging it, so others can enjoy it too.

They ask you for nothing else in return except to show some basic respect.

R E S P E C T

All they want from you is your enjoyment.

They give it to you from the goodness of their heart, from the stem of their creativity.

And yet, some of you piss all over it.

Some of you have the termerity, the gall, the ignorance, to send a message anonymously - cowardly - to a writer claming that their ending wasn't good enough?

Wasn't to your liking? That Joel, or whichever Pedro Boy, didn't do this, or didn't say that? That their view is wrong because it wasn't canon, that their story didn't live up to your expectation, despite them giving you as much advance information as possible. Even when they don't have to...

And yet, you still chose to read it.

How dare you be so offended by a story that, was never written for you to begin with. The writer wrote it for themselves. They then decided to share it with you. For free, remember?

Are you for real?

If you think it's rubbish, or not to your taste, or boring, or lacks passion, or didn't end the way you would have wanted it to, that's fine - you're entitled to your opinion. Difference of opinion is what makes us unique as individuals.

But the writer, who gave you this story for FREE, and with plenty of upfront info for you to make an informed choice, does not want, or need to hear your self-righteous bullshit or negativity.

Move on quietly and find a story that fits your needs.

Or better still, put your money where your ungrateful mouth is, and write your own ending that you covet so badly.

I guarantee you, it'll be a lot harder to do than you think...

You didn't pay for this story, therefore your passive-agressive opinion, your cruel words, your whole mantra of being a dick for dick's sake, isn't worth a dime.

SUPPORT YOUR WRITERS.

Don't drag them down if you can't, or don't have the balls or talent, to do any better.

To every writer: You are incredible. You are what makes the world go round. Your imagination never ceases to amaze me and I will forever have your back and sing your praise from the rooftops. You deserve to be here, or wherever it is that you write and share your words. THANK YOU for sharing a piece of you with me, with all of us. 🖤

To every disrepectful anon who has ever sent a hateful or hurtful message to a writer: respectfully, go fuck yourself.

#pedro pascal #fanfic writers #pedro pascal fanfiction #javier pena #joel miller #support your writers #don't be a dick #jett has spoken

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palestaticexchange · 15 days

Text

PALE STATIC EXCHANGE... 2!

i said i'd do this again~

Welcome to the Pale Static Exchange... Two!

A few people lamented they weren't able to make sign up for last year, since it was such a short timeframe. I have ~listened~, I have ~learned~ from the first exchange, and ~*HOPEFULLY*~ I have streamlined the experience for you all!

FAQ

ASKS

CALENDER

LORE

KOFI

So without further adieu, this is how it's going to work:

Fill in this form to be included in the draw.

The form will be active until the 8th of June 2024, at which point I'll post a link to an incognito draw website (unless results in THIS POLL indicate otherwise!)

Me and @koreplus will message half of you each, letting you know WHO your recipient is as well as their likes/ dislikes

As long as you provide me with a valid Tumblr URL that allows me to tag you then everyone will be tagged on the post when it goes live :)

Access to the likes/ dislikes form will then be distributed..:

The likes/ dislikes form:

When the draw went live last year, a participant - rightly - pointed out that posting a link to a spreadsheet listing everyone's likes/ dislikes may not have been the best idea; since the dislikes section allows participants to list potential triggers.

Since the draw was already live, I rectified this by deleting the post and making the document accessible ONLY through being sent a link. This worked perfectly well last year, however (if somebody wanted to be a grade-A prick) they could have taken that link and posted it anywhere.

I've put a lot of thought into it and come to the conclusion that the only *perfect* solution would be to do the entire draw process myself, then individually message everyone who their recipient is, as well as their likes/ dislikes.

Now.

I'd really rather not have to do that, as it's going to make the entire process a lot more involved on my end; there were 56 participants last year (including myself) and I expect that number to be higher this time around since people have been following this blog in the off-season. I am very depressed and very lazy disabled and work so hard and have no monies.

But for the love of god, frotting, AND communism: I WILL pull my thumb out my ass and do that if people prefer it: Answer a poll!

ANYWAY:

You have until August 1st 2024 to create something; be that art, writing, music, ect. You then post your work and @ tag @ your partner in it! You can also submit it to this blog, however I will try to share everyone's works regardless.

Due to time zones and life in general I'll give a day's grace period, but the cut-off will be August 5th (If you fill in the form then PLEASE do try to create something for your partner, even if it's something small) Obviously things come up, so if it's looking like you won't be able to create something then please get in contact ASAP so that I can sort something out.

#pale static exchange #pale static info #disco elysium

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ageless-aislynn · 4 months

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Title: “15 Minutes” (9/?) Author: @ageless-aislynn Characters/fandom: Master Chief John-117/Reader, Halo the series Summary: You're in peril but don't be afraid, help is near. Series: How to date a Spartan (without even trying) Rating: T (PG13) Length: 2,568 (this chapter, 22,261 total so far) Spoilers: Set in the Silver Timeline of Halo the series, not the games or novels. Though we began with the events of Halo 1x06, there will be no more show spoilers. We are still firmly seated in the AU Warthog, merrily driving out to places where there’s only a passing nod to canon. 😉 Trigger warning: claustrophobia Disclaimer: Definitely not mine but I do enjoy borrowing them just for a bit! 😉 A/N: Text is both here in this post or available at AO3, however you like to read. Halo season 2 has finally arrived! However, this fic continues to zip along in the AU Party Warthog, so, while we began with season 1 way back when (and you’ll see a few more things from s1 along the way 😉), we’ll not be venturing into s2 territory at all. Unless s2 is going to take some verrrrry interesting twists, lol! Chapter 10 is in progress by hand but I hope to have it ready soon. 🤞😣🤞 The tags have been updated for hurt/comfort starting with this chapter. If you read, I hope you enjoy! ⭐💖⭐

Taglist: @pinheadbanger @mysardencut @laurenstacy610 @sporadicbelievernightmare @ultrablackwidower @bxmxtx @jellotherelol

If you would like to be tagged in my John/Reader fics, just let me know! I also write John/Kai, John/Cortana and Kai/male Reader, so I’m glad to tag you for whatever you’d like. If you would like to be removed from the taglist, also feel free to let me know, no harm, no foul. 😉 💖

Halo fic masterlist ⭐

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

Trigger warning again: claustrophobia If you need to avoid the actual scene, skip the entire first section but there will be a lot of mentions of it again through the rest of the chapter, just so you're aware. I don't want to cause any distress to anyone so if you'd like a recap of what happens in this chapter, feel free to contact me here and I'm happy to oblige so you can stay in-the-know without reading something that could trigger a bad reaction. Stay safe, my friends! 🤗

You tried to gasp in a breath but there was a weight pinning you down. Smoke burned your lungs and your eyes. Your left arm couldn't move but you were able to bring your right hand up to wipe your face, trying to clear your vision. The only light in the rubble came from a shower of sparks a few feet away, emitting from a panel half-ripped from the wall. There was very little to orientate yourself by.

"Hello?" you tried to call but you couldn't take a deep enough breath to yell. The muffled ring in your ears told you that at least one of your eardrums had ruptured.

Evaluate, you thought in the tone you used when triaging patients, shoving down a wave of panic. You tried to squeeze out from under whatever was pressed across your back. No good, too much weight.

There wasn't a tremendous amount of pain but you worried at the numbness from your waist down, behind whatever was restraining you.

Evaluate.

You tested moving your legs, your feet, your toes. It felt strange but yes, you had movement.

Spinal cord potentially compromised but not severed, you diagnosed as clinically as possible.

Something overhead gave an alarming groan.

Alert help. Report your position.

"Hello? I'm by the crane operator booth. Can anyone hear me?"

You couldn't get the volume you wanted and you automatically tried to inhale deeper. You couldn't and had to fight another wave of panic. The animal part of your brain wanted to claw the twisted metal of the deck, trying to squirm free, but when you twitched, something above you groaned again.

You had no way to know how perilous the collapsed structure was. A wrong move could bring it all down.

A fresh wave of smoke irritated your nose and you coughed weakly. From far away, you heard the muffled sound of a woman saying your rank and last name.

"Here," you choked out. "I'm here."

A blue light shimmered a few feet away, the lower half of a blue-tinted woman, her upper body phased through the rubble. Then she shrank until she fit the space, adjusting like a camera lens. A hologram.

She repeated your rank and last name. "We have your location," she said, your damaged hearing distorting her voice. "Sit tight, a rescue crew is on their way."

You tried to respond but the smoke triggered more coughing, so you nodded.

"I'll stay with you for as long as the holo-emiter holds," she said, gesturing towards the ruined wall panel that continued to spark.

"Thank you," you managed to say. "Casualties?"

She glanced up and away as if receiving new information. "Reports coming in of injuries but no fatalities. Your alert gave enough time for almost everyone to get clear."

"Good." You made yourself slow your breathing down, taking shallow breaths since you couldn't take deeper ones. For a moment, your head swam and it felt like the floor tipped. Your fingers scratched for a hold on the crumpled metal.

The sound of your rank and name cut through the terror. "You're all right," the woman assured you. "You're not falling. Try to stay still. Silver Team will be back on site in a few more minutes. John will be here soon."

It gave you something to focus on other than bring trapped. The way she knew that the mention of John would comfort you, that she didn't call him Master Chief like most people did, even the mannerism of how she'd looked away, like someone was speaking in her ear...

"Your name wouldn't be Ms. Classified, would it?" you asked haltingly and tried to smile.

"That's... not inaccurate," she said and maybe it was your blurry vision but you could've sworn she gave you a fond smile, like she knew you. "I'm not supposed to tell my name."

You tried to say it was all right but couldn't draw enough breath.

"Ah, screw it," she said. "What are they going to do, fire me? My name is Cortana."

You must've blacked out because the next thing you knew, she was kneeling next to you, her small holographic hand resting atop your outstretched arm as she repeated your rank and name.

If you could get a breath, you needed a good, solid breath. Your chest instinctively fought to expand but couldn't beneath the pressure bearing down on your back. Something above you slid and the pressure abruptly worsened. You clawed, you fought, you struggled to breathe. To live.

"John, get here now! The support beam is failing!"

"Not his fault," you tried to say. "Tell him. Not his--"

Metal screamed and everything went dark.

You woke, grasping at nothing. You still couldn't get a deep breath but this time you were on your back and it felt like someone had laced a corset brutally tight around you.

"Easy there. You're all right," said a deep voice.

Your vision swam and then Spartan Vannak-134 appeared out from the dim lighting. You were still clawing at the air, trying to sit up, and he caught your hand a little awkwardly in his much larger ones.

"Where?" you gasped.

"You're back on Reach, in medical."

Once he said it, details emerged like a black and white picture filling in with color: the beeps of the monitors, the distinctive antiseptic smell. Your hearing was still deadened but not as much as before, meaning they had already begun healing therapies on your eardrums.

Anything you might've wanted to say dissolved like sugar on your tongue before the words could be spoken. Your head seemed too full. I'm drugged, you thought and that was the last thing you knew for a while.

Voices drew you from the murky depths and you tried to open your eyes but couldn't.

"Hold her hand," Vannak said in a quiet rumble. "She likes that."

A new hand gently folded around yours and your fingers instinctively gripped hold.

You woke, feeling the phantom press of metal bearing down on you, forcing the air from your lungs. You tried to sit up, your limbs flailed, uncoordinated and leaden. A second hand closed around yours and a feminine voice began to softly sing, a lullaby in a language you didn't recognize.

The room was blurry but you caught a glimpse of red hair -- Spartan Riz-028. You went under once more, dreaming of music that soothed your fears.

Later, there was a new voice to lure you up from the sticky darkness.

"Poor little thing. She looks so small."

"She'll heal. Hold her hand, it helps."

At some point, you jolted awake to find your hand cradled carefully within Kai's.

"Hey," she said, sitting up straighter in the chair next to the bed. "You need anything?"

Your head felt less stuffed with cotton than before but now that cotton seemed to have been transferred to your mouth. "Water?" you croaked.

She jumped up and returned shortly, carrying a cup with a straw in it. You intended to sit up but a searing pain in your ribs immediately convinced you that was a bad idea and you let her help you by holding the straw to your lips.

"Slowly," she advised.

Once you'd taken a couple of sips, you mumbled your thanks then promptly passed out.

You thought you'd closed your eyes for a brief moment but when they fluttered open, it wasn't Kai sitting in the chair, holding your hand.

As soon as John knew you were awake, he was on his feet, carefully brushing the fingertips of his free hand along the curve of your cheek.

You mouthed his name.

"Rest," he said. "I'm here. You're safe."

For the first time in what seemed like forever, you truly felt as if you were. Your mind let go.

"And how's our favorite mech, the Hero of the Pit?"

"That's not a very heroic name," you confessed, smiling as Maria and then Jamie entered medical.

You were sitting on the side of the bed in generic gray scrubs, waiting for Dr. Savannah to give you final instructions before your release. It had been two days since the explosion. Your hearing had, thankfully, returned to normal. The rest of you... not so much but you were on the mend.

They both gave you careful hugs.

"You look a lot less like you were squashed by a building," Jamie said sincerely and Maria punched his arm. "Hey, that was a compliment!"

"Don't make me laugh," you begged, holding your left side. They'd fused your broken ribs back together but the tissue damage would take longer to resolve. Still, aches, pains, limited motion and all, you knew you were very lucky.

"I hope they're giving you a nice vacation, at least," Maria went on.

"I should be ready for light duty in a week."

"Technically, I said we'd evaluate you for light duty in a week," Dr. Savannah corrected as she entered. "Afraid your friends will have to catch up with you later."

They said their goodbyes and, as they left, you started to stand. The doctor quickly said, "No, you don't. I don't want you walking on that leg."

"It's not broken," you argued.

"Not anymore," she countered. "Stay put. I got you a ride."

"I don't need to be wheeled back to the barracks." You tried to keep your tone confident but the truth was even that little bit of exertion had left you feeling twinges all along your left leg. Your left shoulder throbbed with each heartbeat.

"Well, good thing you're wrong on both counts," she said, winking. "And here he is now."

John came through the door, dressed in his undersuit as if either about to head to the Brokkr stations to have his Mjolnir mounted up or returning from having it removed. You didn't even realize you'd moved to rise again until Dr. Savannah put a practiced hand on your good shoulder to keep you down.

"I'll be sending PT to you twice a day, starting tomorrow," she said. "They'll help you to get your strength and mobility back. Around that, rest. Catch up on your reading, watch some thoroughly trashy movies, and keep your feet up. Not too far up, though. Nothing too strenuous. Make him do all of the work."

That got you to look at her and she waggled her eyebrows.

John cleared his throat slightly, a faint but definite flush creeping up from his collar. "Yes, ma'am."

"All right, see you back in a few days, sooner if anything else develops. You know what to watch for."

It wasn't until she stepped back and John approached that it clicked.

"You're going to carry me?"

"Yes, ma'am," he repeated in a murmur that shivered straight down your spine.

Since your left side had taken the brunt of the damage, he put your right to his chest and cautiously picked you up in a bridal carry. Despite the care, being moved set a thousand things to hurting and your breath hitched as he straightened.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," you said, your tone tighter than you would've liked. You thought, I hope nobody sees me being toted around like this, but, as soon as you left medical, you realized that no one was actually looking at you.

I think if Master Chief offered to drop me and pick up any marine, ODST or officer in this hall, they'd be hopping into his arms before I even hit the floor!

At the first turn he made, you realized the rest of it. "This isn't the way to the barracks."

"Nope," he said and you knew him well enough now to see the hint of a smile in his eyes.

You didn't have to wait for further clues, there was only one place, then, that he could be taking you. "How many strings did you have to pull for this?"

"Not as many as you might think," he demurred. "Your actions saved lives."

And they could've blamed you for failing to make sure a bomb hadn't been sent to the Pit in the first place. The curly tailed Warthog had been your responsibility, after all. You'd been curtly informed of all that when they'd debriefed you the first day you'd had your eyes open for more than 15 minutes.

You doubted they'd told that to John, though.

When you reached his room, he maneuvered so to get his thumb on the panel without jostling you too much. The lights came on as he took you through the doorway and then he paused.

"Kai," he rumbled, shaking his head. "She said studies show people heal better with color. I should've known she'd overdo it. Say the word and I'll have her in here clearing this out."

"It's your room," you said, "but personally, I love it."

The duvet on the bed and the pillows on the couch were now a rainbow of jewel tones. A tapestry with a field of sunflowers dominated the wall at the foot of the bed and you could've sworn there was a dusting of diamond glitter shimmering on every wall, sending tiny holographic rainbows through the air in all directions. But the main thing that caught your attention was overhead.

"She put up stars," you said, brightening.

"Ah, that one was actually me," he confessed. "You seemed to really like those in her room so I thought..."

You stretched up in his arms, inhaling a little sharply at the stab of pain in your left side, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I love them, John. Thank you."

A short time later, you found yourself lying on the bed in the darkened room, looking up at those stars. John had profusely apologized for not being able to stay after getting you settled in. He'd turned down the bed so you wouldn't have to, had put your padd close at hand on the nightstand to the right along with a bottle of water and a couple of emergency ration packs in case you got hungry before someone bought you a meal. He'd even procured you a set of unthinkably soft civvies to change into, exactly your size and in your favorite color.

You couldn't imagine that a Spartan had ever taken care of a sick or wounded person before, other than in a battlefield triage situation, so he'd probably found a checklist from somewhere to guide him. His earnestness to make sure he'd done everything right sent warmth flooding through you.

Before he left, he'd paused to kiss the top of your head.

"You know," you said, lifting your chin, "my lips aren't broken."

He hesitated. "The last time I did that, an entire base fell on you."

"Only the warehouse part," you said dismissively, "and there was absolutely no correlation, I promise."

He tried to smile at that but his eyes still showed concern.

"I promise," you repeated more seriously and he exhaled as if about to make a tremendous leap. His kiss was so soft and gentle, it was barely more than a whisper against your mouth.

Once he had left, you'd considered taking Dr. Savannah's advice and watching a holo, reading something on your padd, or doing any number of things to pass the time but ultimately, you'd wanted to appreciate his handiwork.

After all, it wasn't just anybody who could say a Spartan had literally hung the stars for them.

#halo #halo the series #halo paramount+#master chief x reader #x reader #john-117 x reader #fic: 15 minutes #series: how to date a spartan without even trying #ageless aislynn #aislynn's fics #aislynn's fic

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mitsvriii · 10 months

Note

If you're taking requests, could you do Lyney fluff? With the reader as traveler and they aren't exactly dating but there's mutual attraction, but no one confessed yet. Basically Lyney has the day off and the traveler is still new to Fontaine so they finish mapping it out and he tags along. Like a vague telling of doing commissions, underwater exploration even, and going back to the city at the end of the day all filled with romantic tension( like butterflies n stuff). The entire thing is just very general fluff, so like some specific moments in the day where they were like this close 🤏 from just leaning in. And it ends with the two about to confess but Lynette shows up out of nowhere and is like "am I interrupting?".

Exploring (feelings)

Pairing: Lyney x Traveler!reader

Reader type: Any

Content: Fluff

Word Count: 712

Triggers: none

Extra: My requests are always open unless I’ve said otherwise :), I love this idea sm, shorter than I would like but it is 11:35 pm rn, reader’s kinda in their Adrein Agreste era, not proofread

“So after we get done with this location where do we go next?

Lyney voiced the question as you continued to fill out your growing map of Fontaine. You and Paimon had opted to go and explore Fontaine after the duration of trails you had.

Lyney had spotted you two and had opted to tag along, since it was his day off. You didn’t seem to mind as you agreed to his offer, both of you going on a long trip around the main areas of Fontaine.

You had completed your commissions with the help of Lyney. Surprisingly enough he seemed to be skilled with a bow and arrow, along with some flames from his hat.

Getting some teleport waypoints, to which you had to explain to Lyney what they were, you both had cleared half of the map. All that was left was to get one last underwater waypoint.

Apparently Lyney was just as skilled as his brother in swimming because he made sure to spin and do tricks for you when you both ventured underwater the first time.

He had picked a bouquet of underwater flowers for you, and you had to hide your face in them to cover up your blush. Paimon had caught the gentle pink dusting your cheeks, however, before you could hide it.

You were honestly surprised she hadn’t blabbered about your on-growing crush about Lyney yet. He was being cheekier than usual with his teases and gestures. He even went as far as to go get a waypoint for you so you wouldn’t have to “stress your pretty legs for such a silly thing”.

Getting the waypoint underwater, you decided that it was enough progress for today and walked tiredly back into the somewhat city with Lyney.

“Say why don’t I treat you to dinner? My treat after you did so much work today”, Lyney spoke gently as he flipped around a card or two in his hands.

“That would be great!” You jumped a little at Paimon’s quick reply. Giving her a slight glare you glanced at Lyney.

“Yeah, if you want to.”

Tucking away the card to who-know-where Lyney grabbed your hand and started to lead you to what you presumed would be the cafe.

After walking for a bit more, Lyney guided you to an outdoor table with an umbrella, “Here sit.” He pulled back a chair for you, “I’ll go order.”

You stretched as you go comfortable in the chair, eyes trailing to watch Lyney order. Paimon fortunately seemed too invested in the smell of food to notice your staring.

As soon as Lyney turned to go sit with you, your gaze snapped to the table. Seemingly trying to play it off you were interrupted by Lyney’s voice.

“Are you okay? If you’re not feeling well I can get it for takeout.”

You shook your head, “I’m good, just spaced out.”

You gave him a small smile and he returned it as he sat down. A somewhat comfortable silence surpassed over the two of you as you waited on the food.

You didn’t even need to tell Lyney what to order you because he had already memorized it for some reason. Maybe he just had go memory skills. It wasn’t long before your food arrived and you all started to eat.

Paimon excused herself to leave, most likely to go rest on a bench from all of the food she ate. Leaving just you and Lyney.

“Y’know watching you today was better than one of my own performances if I do say so myself.”

“Oh, thanks”, your cheeks turned slightly red again.

“If..if you have time maybe we could do that again sometime?”

You glanced up at Lyney. Was he proposing a date? Before you could reply someone cleared their throat from beside you.

You jumped as Lyney sighed in somewhat irritation.

“Hello Lynette”, Lyney emphasized her name as he stared at the monotonous girl.

“Am I interrupting something? Sorry, the crew needs you back at the theater, a prop broke.”

Another sigh from Lyney, “Right, right. We’ll talk later, hm?”

You nodded as you met Lyney’s slightly pink-purple gaze. He gave you a curt tip of his hat before he left with Lynette. You yourself sighed at the current change of things.

Standing up, a card slipped from your seat. You picked it up and it revealed that it was the queen of hearts.

Huh, so he did mean a date.

#genshin lyney #lyney fluff #lyney x reader #lyney and lynette #lynette #lynette genshin #lyney x you #genshin impact #genshin fluff #fontaine #fontaine x reader

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sixhours · 2 months

Text

Postpartum

A one-shot set in the One Day at a Time universe. This probably won't make sense unless you've read that, but you do you.

Rating: Teen Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel Miller x f!OFC, soft!Joel, no really super soft!Joel, mostly follows canon, angst, hurt/comfort, fluffy baby stuff, babyfic, postpartum depression-ish (not really, but could be triggering), ppd, hormones are wild y'all, breastfeeding is hard, mentions of Sarah and her being black so obviously leaning hard into the tv series and maybe racial themes if you squint? Word count: 1.8k

Notes: Sometimes I just can't get these characters out of my head.

You can also read Postpartum on AO3.

~*~

Joel wakes to the sound of crying, and not the baby’s this time. It’s Charlie, sitting up in bed with Anna at her breast, curled over the child’s nursing form and sobbing.

“Hey, whoa,” he rasps, sitting up and fumbling for the bedside lamp. “S’wrong?”

“She’s not getting enough,” she says through tears. “I don’t know…I just…it’s been three days and she needs to eat and there’s no letdown and I can barely squeeze anything out–”

“Hey, shh, s’okay,” he says. “Midwife said that’s normal, ‘member? Can take a few days for everythin’ to…uh…work.”

“But what if it doesn’t? What if I’m b-broken? What if she’s starving and she can’t tell us?”

He shakes his head, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and sliding over to tuck her under his arm, careful because she’s sore and tender everywhere.

“You’re not broken,” he says. “You’re just…tired. And–”

“If you say I’m hormonal I will hurt you,” she hisses, then her eyes go wide and apologetic in the dim light, lower lip quivering.

“I’m sorry,” she moans. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that–it’s these fucking hormones, isn’t it? Fuck.”

“S’alright, I know–”

“You don’t. You really don’t. Everything hurts and I’m wearing a goddamned diaper –and these fucking cloth pads are worthless, I think I’m leaking on the bed again–”

“S’why we put a towel down. It’ll wash out—”

“...and my vagina is fucking ruined . It’s g-g-grotesque.”

“Midwife said you didn’t even tear,” he says, biting down hard on his cheek to stifle a chuckle. “I’m sure your, uh…your…um y’know…is just fine.”

She doesn’t appear convinced, tears catching on her lashes and streaming down her cheeks.

“My nipples feel like they’re being rubbed with broken glass. She doesn’t even have fucking teeth yet, how can it hurt so much? And she’s not getting enough, I just know it–”

He swallows hard and rubs her back like when she was in labor, firm strokes at the base of her spine.

“I can’t do this,” she whimpers, rocking forward over the baby. “I can’t…I wanted this so bad and now I’m just going to fuck it up.”

Another sob and now the baby starts to fuss quietly. Salty tears drip from the end of Charlie’s nose and land on the shell of Anna’s tiny ear, catching in her hair, dribbling down her forehead.

“Oh, great, now I’m crying on her,” Charlie sniffs. “Take her, Joel, before I drown her, she’s gonna be soaked–”

“You’re not gonna fuck it up,” he murmurs, but he lets Charlie slide the baby into the crook of his free arm. He bounces Anna for a few seconds, watches her tiny hands and fingers flex, then relax. Soon she’s fast asleep, entirely unaware of the drama unfolding around her.

“You’re doin’ just fine,” he says, kissing the damp curl of hair at Charlie’s temple. “S’only been three days.”

“I’m so scared,” she whimpers. “How are we supposed to do this? The world is fucking over , and we’ve gone and–and brought a child into it. What the fuck were we thinking ?”

“We weren’t. We were really fuckin’ drunk,” he quips.

She glares up at him with swollen, red-rimmed eyes. “You’re not helping.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he mumbles, biting back the urge to laugh as he redoubles his backrubbing efforts in a silent apology. “But…you’re doin’ so good. She’s safe. She’s healthy. Look–she’s snorin’.”

Indeed, Anna’s tiny sniffles have deepened into soft baby sighs that puff against Joel’s bare chest. He finds himself unable to look away, drawn into a trance by the subtle rise and fall of her ribs, the rapid pulse of her heart thrumming under her delicate skin.

“She’s perfect, see? You’re doin’ great. Could use a little more sleep is all.”

Charlie whimpers miserably and presses her face to his side. “She can’t sleep if she’s starving, Joel.”

“She’s not gonna starve. We’ll call the midwife in the morning. She said they have—what is it, donors? If you can’t—“

This elicits another wail from Charlie. “You mean if I’m broken .”

Shit .

“No, no, that’s not what I—I meant just to—I’m—fuck,” he grits out, decides he’s better off shutting up. Instead, he rocks his daughter in one arm and holds the mother of his child in the other, waiting out the storm.

“Was it like this with Sarah?” Charlie murmurs after a while, voice laden with exhaustion.

“A little,” he says, hesitating. “Her mom was a lot younger than you an’ she wasn’t…wasn’t ready. She was a kid herself, and I prob’ly wasn’t the best partner. Hell, I was only 22. S’not an excuse, but…y’know. S’what it was.”

He shifts uncomfortably, remembering the long nights, the fighting, the abrupt dissolution of his family’s future before it had even begun.

“Anyway, she uh…she couldn’t handle it. Left when Sarah was a few months old.”

Charlie makes a sound in the back of her throat, then reaches over, gently grasping one of Anna’s impossibly small feet, rubbing at her little toes until the baby spreads them wide and pushes against her fingertips.

“She’s so perfect, I’m worried I’ll…I’ll ruin her, somehow,” she whispers. “But I can’t imagine leaving her.”

He meets her eyes, the next word rolling tender from his lips, tightening his hold around her shoulders to emphasize the point.

“Exactly.”

They stay like this until her breathing slows, until they’re drifting in that liminal space of exhausted new parents. Charlie wipes at her eyes, lets out a drained sigh.

“I wish he could have met her,” she says, her words muffled against Joel’s chest.

He . Her late husband, one of many ghosts that floats about the edges of their lives, caught in the periphery. Joel feels a twinge of something like envy, but it’s hard to be jealous of a dead man, so he brushes it aside.

“You’ve never told me his name, y’know,” he says instead.

“I didn’t? Oh,” she trails off. “It was Marcus.”

He rumbles an mmm in acknowledgment and rests his chin on the top of her head, marveling at how perfectly she fits there, wondering if he could fill that space for her someday.

“Sometimes I could swear I see him in her,” she continues. “Isn’t that silly?”

“I dunno,” he murmurs, swallowing hard. “Sometimes…I think I see Sarah in her, too.”

She blinks up at him. “Well…at least that makes sense .”

“Not as much as you’d think,” Joel sniffs, tracing a thumb down Anna’s cheek, lost in thought. “Sarah took after her mom…she was half black. Looked nothin’ like me.”

He regards their daughter–pale complexion, silver eyes, straight dark hair. But still, she’s in there; his Sarah, his baby girl. Something about the slope of her nose, the arch of her eyebrows, the curl of her thumb against her bottom lip.

“What was Sarah like?” Charlie murmurs sleepily, nestling further into the crook of his shoulder.

“Stubborn as hell,” he says immediately, the words pouring out before he can lose his courage. “An’ you don’t have to tell me she got that from me. Already know.”

“You? Stubborn?” Charlie says, and he can feel her smiling against him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he smirks. “When Sarah was about three, she threw a fit in the store. Wanted…somethin’ or other, I dunno. A toy, prob’ly. Wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I had to drag her outta there kickin’ and screamin’.

“Except…she doesn’t really look like my kid, y’know? So she had the whole store convinced I was tryin’ to kidnap her, and they got security askin’ me questions, and she doesn’t understand, just keeps…keeps cryin’ and holdin’ on to me–”

He breaks off, surprised at the clarity of the memory; his flailing, sobbing kid in his arms as the security guard grilled him, the creeping shame and anger at being singled out, him and his girl against the world. A lump lodges itself in his throat and he blinks back tears.

“Got us outta there as fast as I could,” he says. “God…haven’t thought about that in forever.”

“That’s…awful.”

He shrugs. “Losin’ Sarah was awful. The rest was just…life.”

“You don’t talk about her,” Charlie whispers.

“S’hard, but…this helps,” he murmurs, stroking Anna’s dark hair, ducking his head to place a gentle kiss to her crown.

“Anyway,” he sighs, a deep, shuddering breath as he brings himself back to the flour-sack weight of the baby girl in his arms, the warm comfort of Charlie’s shoulder against his ribs.

“All that to say…I get it. Hell, sometimes I catch myself thinkin’ Ellie has my eyes,” he chuckles. “Makes no fuckin’ sense…but maybe it don’t have to.”

Charlie shifts, rests her head against his chest, slurring her words slightly. “Mmmm…she does, though, doesn’t she?”

“Sure, let’s say she does. And this li’l one has…Marcus’ smile or ears or somethin’, maybe. He’s part of you…so he’s part of her, too.”

“Maybe,” she murmurs, yawning. Soon her breathing is slow and even, her body relaxed and pliant against his.

He allows himself the luxury of staring, struck by the way Charlie’s dark lashes fan over her cheeks, the mirror image of Anna’s.

Within minutes, they’re both asleep in his arms.

~*~

“Joel…Joel, wake up. I think–”

Charlie’s voice is soft and calm, no longer frantic, her words nuzzling gently against the dim reaches of his brain. He’s vaguely aware of the weight of the baby being lifted from his chest. He blinks, stretching, neck and shoulders tight where he’s dozed off against the headboard. The light is still on and a soft early morning dawn filters through the bedroom window.

He watches with heavy eyes as Charlie puts the baby to her breast, watches Anna’s little mouth eagerly searching for the nipple, bobbing against it greedily before latching on, drawing a soft hiss from her mother at the initial sting.

The baby makes deep, wet suckling sounds and tiny, satisfied grunts, making him think of a piglet. He smiles groggily and cups her soft little head in the palm of his hand, watching frothy bubbles of milk gather at the corner of her lips as she eats and eats and eats.

“Joel, look…”

Charlie’s trying to show him something but he’s too tired, too sleep-deprived to understand until he feels her hand guiding his, placing it on her swollen breast the way she used to place it on her stomach. The flesh underneath is tight and full and definitely not broken.

He kisses her crown and breathes her in, all lavender and powder and milk, still cradling the baby’s head in his hand as he drifts off to sleep.

#the last of us hbo #fanfic #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfic #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #babyfic #hurt/comfort #angst #postpartum depression #postpartum

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romanarose · 10 months

Text

Partner in Crime

Frankie Morales x fem!reader

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Summary: You can't always orgasm, and pressure to cum makes things worse. Frankie is willing to experiment, after accidentally hurting your feelings.

Warnings: struggles to orgasm, pressure to orgasm, a lil angst, piv sex, safe PIV sex (wrap it up!), use of sex toys. I think that's it?

Frankie and Marc are neck and neck for the WIP poll so i just went with frankie!

First time writing a one shot for Frankie! I have a series with him and a OC, a FishBen fic, and Frankie in the Triple Frontier orgy series but no Frankie x reader centered.

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“F-Francisco, ffuuuuuccckk” You cry out for your husband, holding his sweaty, broad, hot shoulders as he fucks into you.

“Tan bonita, hermosa, linda.” Frankie presses wet kisses into your neck, passionate and fucking loud. Frankie liked it sloppy, and that reflected in the way he kissed. “Want you to cum, baby” He pleaded with you. “Wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

You could feel him in your stomach, penetrating through every inch of you, and you could feel the warmth in your tummy. He never failed to make you feel good, so, so good. Feeling good wasn’t the problem.“Frankie, I don’t know if it’s gonna happen tonight, baby.”

“You can do it” He encouraged you. He continues thrusting at a pace he knows you enjoy, playing with your swollen and over-stimulated clit, mouthing and kissing over every part of you, desperate to bring you to completion. “I know you can, beautiful girl, you can be a good girl for me, can’t you?”

Just like that, your stomach sinks, and all chances of you orgasming tonight went out the window. That hurt. “Frankie, just cum, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine if you don’t get off, hermosa.” There was the slightest bit of bite in his voice, irritation you knew wasn’t at you, but at himself more than anything. It was his pride, no matter how many times you try to explain that your struggles to orgasm had nothing to do with his ability to pleasure you.

“Frankie, stop.” You slap at his arm, wanting him off and away from you.

Frankie stopped immediately, getting off of you and sputtering out half-sentences about how he was sorry and asking if you were okay. You were fine, physically and mentally. Nothing hurt and he didn’t trigger anything… but he hurt your feelings.

Furious, you scramble off the bed, tears pricking at your eyes as you grab your robe and Frankie tries to follow after you, keeping a respectful distance.

“Baby, I’m sorry, I just wanted to-”

“Go away!” You go to the bathroom, ready to shower the whole scene off of your body and fume under the hot water for a while. Eventually, you and him would have to talk about it. You always talked about things, that’s how after 5 years and a baby and a disastrous week in Colombia you were still happily married… So you showered off as much anger as you could, working through your thoughts as your fingers worked through your hair.

As far back as you could remember, ever since your first experimentations with your own fingers, you couldn’t reach orgasm for years, men going down on you just giving up. Hell, you didn’t even cum for the first time until your 20’s, and it wasn’t until the wonderful man that was Francisco Morales came into your life that you actually climaxed from a man. You had faked a lot in the early years of your relationship, embarrassed with yourself, but Frankie caught on the more he got to know you, and eventually called you out on it. After that day, you promised not to fake it.

He knew not to bother you in the shower, unless invited. This was your place to relax, to exist alone, to just be you. When you and Frankie argue, which admittedly is pretty rare, if the issue isn’t going anywhere you often find yourself showering, and when you are done, you’re usually ready to have a better conversation. Frankie is too, taking on a few different coping mechanisms he learned in rehab to calm himself as you do so in the shower.

When you get out, however, your daughter is up from her nap, and Frankie is busy getting dinner ready while she babbles about her friends in preschool. As you walk in the kitchen, scooping up your baby, Frankie smiles at you and nods. ‘We’ll talk tonight.’

Frankie put her down for bed that night after a long and happy evening together as a family. Another reason you two are so strong together, you don’t let issues get in the way of family time.

When Frankie walked into your bedroom, he gave you a soft smile, his large, puppy dog eyes crinkling at the corners, showing his age, an age he never thought he’d get to in a happy life he never thought he’d have. “Would you like to start first, hermosa?” Frankie offers you the chance to explain how you feel first.

You nod. “I don’t like when you put pressure on me to cum like that, Frankie. Telling me I’d only be your good girl if I cum.” Your vision started to blur as your eyes began to fill with tears. It frustrated you, being unable to have a normal conversation without crying, but Frankie knew better than to swoop in and hold you at the first sign of emotions, he knew you wanted to be able to have a conversation.

“I didn’t mean it like that, baby”

“But it felt like you did!” Your voice raised only a bit, and you made a mental note to tone that down. “You know how much that gets me, you know how much I w-wanna b-b-b-be your g-good girl…”

Frankie knew better than to swoop in at the first sign of emotions, but when you cried, your little lip quivering, he couldn’t help it. “Oh bebita…” He took you into his strong arms, firm and steadfast, the fat of his stomach pressing against yours in the way that always comforted you. “I’m so sorry I made you feel like that, but I promise you, you are always my good girl, and I swear I’ll never make that contingent on whether or not you cum.”

“It really hurt my feelings, I can’t control it!” You cry into him, not so much because you are sad or hurt, but pent up sexual frustration. “Please don’t put pressure on me to orgasm, baby, it doesn’t help.”

Rubbing your back, Frankie soothed you, the simple smell of him enough to calm your senses. “I know, I shouldn’t have done that, and I’m sorry, I’m so, so, sorry beautiful.”

You knew he was. “I forgive you, Frankie.” Pulling back, you hold his handsome face in your hands. “Thank you for apologizing. Baby, I need you to know I love making love to you, even if I don’t cum, and I don’t want you to not orgasm just because I don’t that time. It makes me feel close to you, it makes me feel good physically and mentally, and there are benefits to it even without finishing. And it has nothing to do with your abilities. It’s just something with my body or my mind that makes it hard, it doesn’t mean either of us are wrong.”

With a gentle kiss on your lips, Frankie nods. “I understand, I’ll do better, I promise. As long as you are happy, I’m happy.”

Things were great after that. You find you cum more with less pressure, and the more Frankie was able to let go of the idea his manhood rested on making you cum, the more you reached climax. Still, you knew Frankie wanted more for you. Not for him, but for you.

It was a few months in when Frankie was once again fucking into you deeply and he slowed his movements, asking if he could try something he bought. You said sure, always down for an adventure, but your heart sank a little when you saw the wand vibrator.

“Frankie, I thought we moved past-”

“You don’t have to cum” He was quick to reassure. “I just thought… well, we never tried toys before. If they help you orgasm, that’s great. If not…” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Then maybe it’ll increase your pleasure anyway?” Frankie smiled down at you, soft and gentle as he always was, and you returned it right back.

You felt relieved, but mostly excited. You’d tried vibrators before but honestly, they were intimidating and you weren’t sure if you were using them right. “You don’t feel… weird about using a vibrator? Some guys-”

He cuts you off with a kiss. “Some guys are fucking pussy’s, hermosa. A plastic toy isn’t my competition, it’s…” He looked at the purple wand, examining it as he thought. “It’s a little friend!” Frankie joked.

Giggling, you feel more relaxed with every second. “Frank, sweetie, if you wanted a friend here, I’m sure Santi would be happy to hop into our bed.” You tease him, and another man would be put off by the comment, but Frankie wasn’t deterred.

“Santi would hop into any bed he was invited to, let’s not get a big head here.” With a wink, he began to trail kisses up your body before encapsulating your mouth with his, tongue and spit and thrusts up into you, Frankie was all that existed right now. Well, that and your sleeping daughter in the next room, but that’s why Frankie kept his mouth over yours when he switched on the vibrator and placed it over your clit, right where he spread your pussy lips open.

“MMMPH!!” You whine into his mouth, hips bucking up at the extra sensation.

Removing the device, Frankie checks in. “Too much?”

“Just right, don’t fucking stop.”

“Yes ma’am”

And he didn’t. Frankie fucked you with all he had, his thrusts reaching the very depth of you, and you swore if he wasn’t wearing a condom, if he spilled into you his cum would shoot right into your woom, knocking you up with another child. The force of the vibrations was strong on the first setting, but it had several, all of which Frankie tried until you patted his hand

“First setting, baby, first one.”

He clicked it back to the first, and watched as the pleasure rolled up your body and into the very core of you, throwing your head back with the force of it.

“Oh, oh fuck Frankie, GOD, I- I think I’m- shit!”

Frankie kissed your temple, keeping a steady pace and rolling the vibrator up and down your clit. “Just focus on the feel baby, nothing else matters, just you and me. I love you so much, hermosa, nothing else matters. Let go and enjoy it.”

And you did, god damn you let go and fuck did you enjoy it, the orgasm rolling off you in pleasureful waves in a way it hadden in fucking weeks. With Frankie’s nails digging into your arms, you are vaguely aware that Frankie was cumming with you, spilling into the condom as your cunt pulsed around him.

For a while, you both just lay there, wet with sweat and cum and spit, your pussy still twitching from the force of it, and you weren’t even sure when Frankie removed the vibe from your body, but now it was just you and him together. As the air settled on you both, your sweat cooled on your skin and your body shivered, goose bumped prickling at you. Frankie noticed, of course, he always did, and even though his broad body was practically a blanket in and of itself, he pulled a real one over you. “Better?”

“Better. I should probably pee though.”

“Yeah, but let’s stay like this for a little bit…”

So you laid there, still speared of Frankie’s softening cock as you both languidly kissed each other, slow and comforting before he removed himself from you and took care of the condom in the bathroom. Oh-so careful, like he always is after sex, Frankie carries you to the toilet, kisses your head and leaves you in private to take care of business.

When you return, Frankie is laying on the bed with open arms and an open blanket which to quickly jump into, kissing him gratefully.

“Seems like we found a cure, huh?” You joke, referencing the apparent fix to your orgasming troubles.

With a smooch to your cheek, he gently reminds you that one orgasm does not a fix make.

“First of all, I don’t like you calling it a cure, because you’re not broken.” His eyes are soft and loving; adoring, even. “Second, you aren’t a robot. It’s not about just pressing the right buttons in the right order to make you cum. This may not work next time. However…” A shit eating grin spread across his face. “It did seem to help… a lot.” Frankie wiggled his eyebrows and you playfully smacked him.

“I love you, you know…” The post-sex daze is real right now, making you feel so warm and in love, so attached to the man whose arms were around you.

Frankie toyed with the ring on your finger. “Yeah, I had an idea.” Always one for a quip, Frankie never missed an opportunity to express his affection. “I adore you, hermosa. So fucking much.”

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@fandxmslxt69 @whatthefishh @campingwiththecharmings @ahookedheroespureheart @runa-falls @littlenosoul @mikaelak @ahookedheroespureheart @poeedameronn @stevenandmarcslove @scarletthefierce

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier #triple frontier smut #frankie morales smut #fem reader #fem!reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie catfish morales

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