#wish writes things

[angstywishes]

Hands ✨

ok so this took me a minute because i. may have gotten a little carried away with it. buuut introducing irene and jasper finally! ^_^

(CW: needles, hand trauma/fingore obviously, toxic behavior, possessive whumper, some blood of course, this is kind of just abusive buildup till it gets to hand gore)

(wc: 920 oh my god)

“You have such nice hands,” Irene hums thoughtfully, running a thumb over the metacarpal bones, feeling the individual bumps breaking up the soft flesh. “It’s a shame you’ve done so much damage to them with all that work.”

Jasper is trying desperately to hold still. Just.. Hold still. Maybe she’ll get bored if he holds still. Maybe she won’t do anything at all.

She tilts her head inquisitively, deep in thought. Jasper hates it when she does that. When she looks like she’s coming up with an idea. There’s always a more than likely chance it will be something that hurts.

“You know, with a little work, we could make this into art.” She’s inspecting his hands closer, and he feels his heart in his throat. Art. She says it like nothing could be more normal. Like she means finger painting, or nail art. But he knows better.

He avoids looking at her, though he can feel her eyes boring into him. Like a sculptor trying to find the shape in their clay.

“Don’t you think? Maybe some embroidery, or some carving..” Irene idly fiddles with Jasper’s fingers. Her eyes light up with an idea. “I could stitch them all together and you’d never have to ruin your pretty hands again.”

He swallows, hard, eyes focused on the floor. What can he say? What can he do? His fingers twitch in Irene’s hand, and she laughs a bit.

“Don’t be nervous. It wouldn’t take long, if you held still.” She uses her free hand to lift Jasper’s chin, forcing eye contact. His green eyes reflect her white teeth as she smiles softly. “It might even be convenient, you know. It would make it so much easier for me to leave you at home all alone.”

Jasper finds it in himself to speak.

“What if — What if you need my help with things, though?” His mouth feels dry. He’s grasping at straws, really. “Holding, uh, needles, or something?”

“Silly, I can do that without your help.” She boops his nose affectionately. And Jasper wishes he were still able to fight back, as Irene stands up to go find her good thread. He wishes he could still run out that door. But wishing doesn’t do much for him now.

“Irene,” he rasps desperately as she returns, needle in hand, “Please, don’t — don’t do this.”

Her face falls. He regrets opening his mouth.

“Jasper..” She sits back down next to him, hands shaking a little. “You understand that this is for you, right? I’m doing this for you.”

He can’t tell if her shaking is from anxiety, or anger. Maybe both.

“And — All I want to do is show you how.. Important, you are to me. You know that, right? Right?”

Her voice is getting slightly more shrill as she continues, her hand tightly gripping the needle. She curls her fist around it, and slams it into the table, making Jasper flinch.

She takes a deep breath, and smiles again.

“I’m.. Sorry, Jasper, what were you saying, again?”

“..N.. Nothing, Irene.” He ducks his head, and puts his hands on the table in front of him.

Irene’s smile becomes more natural as she lifts one of Jasper’s hands, sighing softly.

“That’s what I thought. Now, this won’t take too long.”

It’s a lie.

The pain is excruciating — the needle sends a shock through his nerves, and the thread trails through for what feels like forever.

He can’t bring himself to watch the white thread being pulled through and turning red.

He bites down on his lip to keep from screaming. Irene hates it when he screams, but every stitch makes him want to cry. His hand twitches in pain, pulling one of the stitches tight, and he loses out against instinct as a sob pries itself free from his throat.

Irene pulls the next stitch tighter, and he presses his forehead into the table to suppress his cries. He wants to curl his fingers into his palms and hide, but he can’t.

“You’re being so good for me, Jasper,” Irene says gently, and Jasper whines in response. He doesn’t want to be good. He just wants to go home.

His hands won’t stop shaking, which makes everything hurt worse.

“This would be going so much faster if I were using my sewing machine,” the artist muses. Jasper stops breathing for a moment. “But your hands are too big, so this will have to do.”

Thank god, thank god, he can start breathing again.

He feels lightheaded. He can’t tell how long has passed since they started — Every so often his vision goes white with pain.

The needle moves in and out of the sides of his fingers, doubling back and stitching again for strength. The thread is blood red. The needle is so sharp it slides right through him like he’s nothing. He thinks he might throw up.

They must be done by now, surely. He can’t take any more.

“There we are,” Irene sings, “Oh, it looks so pretty!”

Jasper can’t look. He won’t.

He brings his teary eyes to his hand, and chokes out a sob. His fingers are completely stitched together. He can’t even bend them properly. He screws his eyes shut, not wanting to look anymore.

At least it’s over, he thinks.

“Do you like it?” Irene’s voice cuts through him. Despite everything, Jasper swallows every terrible thing he wants to say and nods.

“Good!” She puts down his hand. “Now I can move on to your other one.”

#asks #wish writes things #oc tag; jasper #oc tag; irene #whump #possessive whumper #hand gore tw #needles tw #blood tw #toxic behavior tw #writing that is so funny because yes irene is being toxic but she also is torturing someone #so like #?????? #also sorry that over half of it is buildup i wanted to do more but i didn't wanna go crazy #ok im gonna stop rambling now

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

#writeblr #warm up #this is longer than i wanted i really considered removing that part about myself and what i went thru #but i think it really fucking bothers me that EVERY time i talk about being an artist #ppl assume i just like. had the skill and ability to drop everything and pay for grad school. #like sir i grew up poor. my house wasn't a safe space. i gave up a FREE RIDE TO LAW SCHOOL. for THIS. bc i chose it. #was it fucking hard? was i choosing the hard thing?? yes. #but we need to stop seeing artists as lazy layabouts that can ''afford'' to just ''sit around and create'' #when MANY - if not MOST - of us are NOT like that. we have to work our fucking ASSES off. hard work. long and hard work #part of valuing artists is recognizing the amount we sacrifice to make our art. bc it doesn't just #like HAPPEN to us. also btw it rarely has anything to do with true talent. #speaking as someone with a chronic condition i hate when ppl are like u have it easy. like actively as i'm writing this my hands r #ACTIVELY hurting me. i haven't been posting bc my left hand was curled in a claw for the last week #this isn't fucking luck. after a certain point it's not even TALENT. it's dedication & sacrifice. #''u get to flounce around and do nothing with ur life'' is a narrative that is a direct result of capitalism #imagine if we said that about literally any other profession. #''oh so u give up 10 yrs of ur life to be a doctor? u sacrifice having a social life and u get SUPER in debt? #u need to work countless hours and it will often be thankless? well i wish i was that lucky'' #we should be applying that logic to landlords ONLY #''oh ur mom and dad gave u the money to buy a house? and all u did was paint it white and rent it? huh.''

[stoopidstapler]

SO IVE BEEN GOIN INSANE SINCE THIS TRAILER DROPPED. JUST. SIMON. SIMON. SIMON.

#simon petrikov #fionna and cake #adventure time #goin insane over him #thers no words to describe how im feelin #i wish i could draw somehtin better but i am goin INSANE #FINALLY. AFTER ALL THESE YEARS. we are being FED. #ALSO?? HOW THEY SHOWED HIM EXACTLY WHEN THE LYRICS GO ''WHATS WRONG WITH ME'. LIKE HELLO??????? #ive seen so many good theories PLEASE GOD WRITE FICS I AM BEGGIN I LL DRAW U FANART BLS HEL P #IDK WOT IM GONNA DO FOR A WHOLE MONTH #SOMEONE KNOCK ME OUT TIL THE 31ST. HIBERNATE ME. HELP. #also i need to put it out there the first thing i thought when i saw this trailer was simon is tryina rewrite fionna and cake #which is why their world keeps changin so much? idk idk #ive seen so many different ideas and they are all so good please help #ALSO GOD. THIS MAN IS JUST GOIN THRU IT. AND ITS ONLY BEEN A QUICK TRAILER. #im sorry for so many tags idk where to put these help #maybe i should make an actual blog for like. whatever. n reblogs. help.

[crispyliza]

I've got you all figured out fanartists

#I should have learned how to draw #i have so many ideas and so little time to write #i wish i could make a vague comic about them and have a fanfic author get hooked and write it for me 😭 #fanfiction #fanart #meme #crispy talks #shitpost #this was inspired by some overlord huskerdust comics with incredible ideas i saw on twitter #where the artists are clearly waiting for someone to get hooked lol #hazbin hotel #the witcher #hannigram #hannibal #geraskier #good omens #ineffable husbands #my edit #helluva boss #the magnus archives #house of the dragon #dungeon meshi #atla #stranger things #aang #zuko #steddie #mlp #dc #percy jackson

[the-witchhunter]

So Lucifer Morningstar, the fourth of the fallen, (retired) ruler of hell, the Devil himself, is a character in DC comics, appearing in the Sandman comics, his own solo run and various other comics

He is absurdly powerful

The thing is, Lucifer still has access to his Divine power, unlike other fallen angels, and is actually more powerful than other angels

What does this mean?

Lucifer was the guy that shaped the matter to create the stars, an ability he still has

Enter one Danny Fenton

“Omg(oh my ghost) I’m a HUGE FAN of your work”

Just Danny fangirling over the literal Devil because of stars and space

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #dpxdc #writing #danny fenton #space nerd Danny #lucifer morningstar #writing prompt #I just think it’s really funny #I gotta say Danny isn’t anywhere near Lucifer’s level #the guy still has power to manipulate and reshape matter of gods creation however he wishes #also has power over souls and ghosts are souls ergo he has power over ghosts #the thing Lucifer really hates is humans blaming him for their own evil #‘the devil made me do it’

[warlenys]

every birthmarks everybody dies parallel takes twenty years off my life

#this can’t have been intentional but then like. the boring thing #they absolutely rewatched birthmarks before writing that ending #so maybe it was #wish i could’ve gone into that writers room and strangled them all to death with my bare hands #also someone must have pointed this out already but i don’t think i’ve seen it if they have i think i would’ve gone insane then and there #house md #hilson #+

[aroaceleovaldez]

reminder that the only reason the "ADHD is actually demigod BATTLE STRATEGIES" and "dyslexia is DEMIGOD BRAINS HARDWIRED FOR ANCIENT GREEK" things exist in the PJO universe is because it's a very direct reference to early 2000s teaching/parenting techniques for neurodiverse and disabled children, which aimed to frame childrens' disabilities and hardships as a "superpower" or strength so that the children would feel more positively about their disabilities or situations. This technique has fallen out of favor since then for the most part since more often than not it just results in kids feeling as though their struggles are not being seen or taken seriously.

Yes, demigods are adhd/dyslexic (and sometimes autistic-coded) in the series. This is extremely important and trying to remove it or not acknowledge it makes the entire series fall apart because it is such a core concept. Yes, canon claims that their adhd/dyslexia is tied to some innate abilities, which is based on an outdated methodology. It's important to acknowledge that and understand where it comes from! But please stop trying to apply it to other pantheons in the series like "oh, the romans have dyscalculia because of roman numerals!" or "the norse demigods have dysgraphia for reasons!" - it's distasteful at best.

A better option is to acknowledge the meta inspiration for why that exists in the series, such as explaining potentially that Chiron was utilizing that same teaching methodology to try and help demigods feel more comfortable with their disabilities and they aren't literal powers. In fact, especially given Frank, there's implication that being adhd/dyslexic isn't a guaranteed demigod trait, which means it's more likely to be normally inherited from their godly parent/divine ancestor as a general trait, not a power, and further supports the whole "ADHD is battle strategy" thing being non-literal. It also implies the entire greco-roman pantheon in their universe is canonically adhd/dyslexic - and that actually fits very well with the themes of the first series. The entire central conflict of the first series fits perfectly as an allegory about neurodiverse/disabled children and their relationships with their undiagnosed neurodiverse/disabled parents and trying to find solutions together with their shared disability/disabilities that the kid inherited instead of becoming distant from each other (and this makes claiming equivalent to getting a diagnosis which is a fascinating allegory! not to mention the symbolism of demigods inheriting legacies and legends and powers from their parents and everything that comes with that being equivalent to inheriting traits, neurodiversity, and disabilities from your parents).

anyways neurodiversity and disability and the contexts in which the series utilizes representation of those experiences particularly during the 2000s symbolically within the narrative is incredibly important to the first series and the understanding of what themes it means to represent. also if i see one more "the romans have dyscalculia instead of dyslexia" post in 2023 i'm gonna walk into the ocean.

#pjo #riordanverse #percy jackson #analysis #meta #adhd #dyslexia #also this symbolism recontextualizes the relationship between demigods and their godly parents so much #particularly Percy and Poseidon and the whole ''I'm sorry you were born thing'' like DAMN that's an ENTIRE DIFFERENT IMPLICATION #honestly in general the first series' meta analogy of being a demigod as symbolism for being neurodiverse/disabled ROCKS SO HARD #that's SO COOL and im SO SAD NOBODY EVER TALKS ABOUT IT #i could write a whole essay on that alone like COME ON GUYS #can we PLEASE ACKNOWLEDGE THIS I WANNA TALK ABOUT THE COOL DISABILITY METAPHORS.... #anyways i didnt proofread this cause. re: dyslexia so if it doesnt make sense dont worry about it #i can try to explain further in supplementary posts if people so wish

[basaltbutch]

sorry not sorry but the height of romance in my opinion is sharing someone else's body with them. let me curl up in your brain i want to be lulled to sleep by the rhythms of your body and the sounds of blood whooshing through your veins. i want to take shelter in your body. does this make sense.

disclaimer: this post is about erotic cannibalism and being a symbiotic parasite and gay t4t sex.

#it speaks #i don't know if this is relating to the Thing im refusing to look at but. Yeah #but yea green is the character i write who i relate to the most. let me in please :(((( #not about anything specific im just always thinking. i wish my body was more fluid and i was immortal i would have so much fun with it

[sun-snatcher]

hello! i love ur work and i was wondering if u could do some live action zuko angst (that makes ur heart sink) and then it progresses to fluff (that makes ur heart swell) please? HAHA idk if it makes sense but i rlly love ur work!! hope ure doing well n no pressure!!!

🐉・ HEARTBURN

summ.  Fresh from his banishment, Zuko faces the aftermath of his punishment in both his dreams and his waking hours. pairing. Zuko x f!reader (established relationship) w.count.  1k.  a/n.  A bit abstract on this one, but just typical dream logic. A glimpse at Zuko’s descent into madness, almost? Sorry anon if this is mostly angst than fluff! 🧎🏻‍♀️

Zuko’s dreams manifest at the scent of burnt flesh and the sound of his own screaming.

He feels the molten sting of a melting crown upon his skin and the fantastical beast that is his father; something monstrous— something scaled, fanged, clawed, and too large an appetite, with a touch and breath of fire that lights the skies in a blaze.

( He wakes up with his voice hoarse from screaming. The 41st Division will eventually learn early on not to mention it. They just leave a hot pot of tea ready for him come the mornings, by General Iroh's orders. )

Sometimes, it transgresses. Sometimes, it’s his mother who burns while he watches from the sidelines of the Agni Kai; Or Azula. Their shrieks mix with his when he wakes. 

Sometimes, it’s Iroh who scalds him. Great Dragon of the West, jasmine-white with razor teeth and a flame that burns as hot as the sun; serpent eyes a shining gold and a sharper tongue that spoke of his disappointment for his nephew. 

Sometimes, it begins with you.

Please, you beg, at the foot of a winged beast. It speaks in the voice of his father; damning, all-encompassing. It warns the Prince the price of compassion, of mercies, and of weaknesses. Eliminate her, or I will. 

Rarely does Zuko ever move. He’d plead in your name, to spare your life. It never happens; he just wakes to the smell of smoke and the sound of your screaming.

( There are dreams he doesn’t speak at all to defend you. The shame devours him whole. )

“I’ve killed you over a hundred times, in my sleep.”

In the aftermath of another nightmare, you turn to face Zuko. You’re not quite sure what to say. 

“Other nights, it’s the 41st, or Uncle,” he says, quietly. “Even mom, or Azula.”

You turn back to the small medical chest on the desk. The infirmary is quieter at times like these; the soldiers of the 41st know not to visit the usual haunts of their Prince. Tonight, Zuko will have to replace the bandages of his scar, and there are only two people on this ship he’d ever trust in his life to lay a hand on it.

You’re shifting towards where he’s sitting on one of the cots. “May I?”

( You ask. You always ask. Even when you’ve done this nearly fifty times, you ask. Zuko is glad; there’s a comfort in agency, especially when he’s gotten so used to losing it every time he sleeps.  )

He nods, and you make quick work to unravel the bandages. When the layers come away, you observe the way his left eye shuts and opens as he blinks, remaining half-closed into a permanent expression of pain. He looks away, downcast. 

The skin around is stretched taut, some areas rawer than others, marred with growing scar tissue that knots in twisting valleys. ( Zuko has only seen the scar once. He’s covered the mirrors in his room ever since; avoids glancing at his own passing reflections. )

The wound is still fresh; the memories fresher.

You don’t flinch at the sight or recoil like the other soldiers or dignitaries. 

He finds… solace in that.

( Something roils in his mind. It uncurls and hisses and growls. )

“Tilt your head for me,” you say, ready to replace the cotton on his eye with a new one. 

He stops your wrist just as you do. 

Your heart jumps at the contact. His hands are warm.

“Why?” he blurts.

You blink in confusion.

“Why’d you come with me?”

The reply is instant, and unintentionally drowned in affection. “Where else would I have belonged?”

Zuko almost answers instinctively: With me. By my side. He shakes his head.

“You should have never come,” he says, instead. He’d grown fond of you over the years. Too fond; over some Firenation colonel’s daughter, a force to be reckoned with and yet a childhood friend who he’d played and studied and fought with countless times. Fond enough that he’d been foolish to let you step foot into the ship of the 41st Division the day he’d been banished; fond enough to be foolish enough to allow you to put yourself in harm’s way. “You could’ve had a better future back home.”

“But a miserable one,” you counter. 

His nostrils flare as he sighs. You watch the way his brows weave to a frown, the way they always did whenever he’s tamping down his frustration. "Nothing is more miserable than being banished from home. Yet here you are walking away from it.”

“You and I both know the palace was never a home for me,” you say. “I’ve been by your side my entire life. I’m not about to break that streak over some punishment. You matter to me.”

Zuko’s heart stifles. 

( Compassion, he hears the wings of the blood-red dragon in his dreams unfurl. Compassion is a sign of weakness. )

“It was a stupid move,” he blurts, letting go of you. He had wanted it to be emotionless, but it comes out as distinctively bitter: “Sooner or later you’ll come to regret your decision. Then, you’ll see I was right all along.”

“Maybe,” you say, just to appease him. “But I doubt it.”

( Lies, jeers the serpent. You have only yourself to rely on in this world, Zuko. )

For the sake of conversation, you don’t provoke him further. You continue, instead, with replacing the dressings around his eye. He’s angry enough as is with the world— with you. For being stubborn. And strong. And steadfast. And loyal. And—

Zuko glances at your face in focus, your hands so careful in binding the gauze it’s nearly featherlight. “Tell me if it hurts,” you say, with gentle authority. 

The ire leaves his body. Zuko’s gaze softens at a realisation:

“Not once have you ever hurt me. Not even in my dreams.”

It’s a statement so frighteningly vulnerable that it has you stilling. Your breath staggers. Something swells in your chest. You let your hand rest on his cheek, thumb below his scar. The touch is reassuring. Zuko wants to lean into it.

“I don’t think I ever could,” you answer, honestly. 

( She can, sings the beast. She will. And once she does, know that it will burn tenfold than what I've done. )

Zuko's hand settles on top of yours. 

“You can hurt me,” he concedes, solemn, voice barely above a whisper. “You can if you must. I command it.”

( The dragon in his head hisses. For now, it retreats. )

#‘you can if you must. i command it.’ #<- GODDD STFUUUUU IM SOFT #the symbolism is symbolism-ing!!! #this was so fun to write #Zuko's ptsd will NOT be overlooked in this blog #the fluff is there if you squint through the angst and whump i promise 😭 #Zuko’s dad manifesting into some beastly thing because trauma is. painful #but god would i be lying if i didnt say i dont enjoy writing the complexities of this angsty teen #zuko #atla zuko #atla #avatar the last airbender #natla #avatar: the last airbender #atla imagine #zuko imagine #zuko x reader #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #zuko x oc #zuko live action #live action zuko #atla live action #🪷 ; wishing well #🪷 ; atla

[hyukqi]

k.t.h. 🩵

drabble of… needy days with taehyun <3

smut, taehyun x reader, fem!reader, subby!mc >_<, meanie dom!taehyun, humiliation, spanking, name-calling, dirty talk

(been ia for a month whoopsies !! rmb when i said i daydreamed about taehyun to get through a power outage ?? ya this is it LMAO enjoy !!!)

──────────────────────

“oh g-god… tae please~~”

"what do you need, pretty girl?" taehyun asks, slowly pulling your panties down. "need my cock in your little cunt?" his fingers slide across your soaked pussy, running against your clit. "need me to fuck you hard and deep?"

nodding with wet tears dripping down your cheeks “p-please.. i..i can’t i need it now!” traces of ruined mascara and lip gloss are smudged across your face, in contrast to his well-maintained look.

"shit, you are so fucking sexy." taehyun groans, his hands rubbing your inner thighs teasingly. “pretty pussy" he murmurs, eyes fixated on your glistening sex, his hand moving to unbuckle his belt. "you want me to fill your tight little cunt up with my seed?" his cock eventually springs free, thick and hard, rubbing against your slick folds. the sight of it makes your mouth water immediately.

after guiding you to lie on your stomach, ass hiked up, taehyun pushes in slowly, feeling your walls stretch around him. he drills his hips deep inside of you until he feels like he’s a part of you, making you his <3

“nghhh—ah!” you can feel your eyes already rolling to the back of your head just from the insertion alone.

he breathes heavily, “there you go, slut… feel me stretching you? see how good it feels having my cock inside your hole? gonna fuck you dumb, mm?” fuck, does he fill you up so good… @_@

lifting his hips, taehyun pulls almost all the way out before slamming back inside you, shoving his cock into your sensitive walls. with a sharp thrust and a wail reaching his ears he grunts out, “you love being fucked like this, don‘t you? god your greedy cunt is so tight.. fuckin’ sucking me in.”

you can only gasp for air between moans, completely consumed by the sensation of being filled by him. “o-oh~! hhah… tyun!!” you find yourself lost in the pleasure from his cock ruining your warm, wet cunt. pretty pussy’s leaking juices onto the bedsheets.. so stupidly eager, aren’t you?

noticing this, taehyun evilly smirks and picks up his pace even further, reaching for your clit with a swipe of his thumb, making you cry out in pleasure as he pumps into you. "you're so fucking wet," he growls, his voice low and rough. "i can feel you dripping all over me. missed me that much?”

“yes..y-yes!! missed you so much tyun! missed your co—mmphh!!!” at this point you were babbling incoherently into the sheets, rendered to nothing but a fucked-out mess.

“thaaat's it, baby. gonna make sure you can’t think about anything but me," taehyun moans, his fingers digging into your hips as he pounded into you harder. his other hand found its way around your body, squeezing your breast roughly.

the sensation was too much for the both of you. your soaking velvety walls dragged across his girth perfectly with each thrust to your gummy spot. you swear birds were circling around your head from just how good taehyun aggressively turned you into his personal cocksleeve.

whining as your head lolls against the mattress, big eyes swelling up with tears that stream down your pretty face. knuckles turning white from how hard you’re gripping the sheets in attempt to stabilize your position, grinding your hips in coordination with taehyun’s thrusts. you hear him hiss from behind as you’re swirling your abused pussy around him.

taehyun’s marveling at the sight before him. he’s got you all spread out completely at his mercy, biting his lip to hold back a moan from watching your pussy engulf him whole. he could tell you’re close by the way you’re creaming on his cock sticky with your juices and clenching repeatedly. a filthy smirk forms on his face as he basks in the sounds of your loud whimpers and cries echoing throughout the room. nasty moans are getting so embarassingly high-pitched. “so fucking noisy… could you be any more louder?” taehyun taunts, his voice deep and harsh.

with cheeks flushing in humiliation and eyes blinking back hot tears, your forehead tilts down. you quickly scramble to shut yourself up by efforts of muffling your moans into your arm and shoving your fingers in your tiny mouth. both attempts were futile as small weak hiccups slipped its way out, and frankly you just sounded more pathetic as ever!

“are you that stupid? did i say to be quiet?”

your body flinches, ears twitching in surprise.

taehyun suddenly grabs a fistful of your hair harshly yanking you up till your back is flushed against his chest and a strained moan creeps up his ears. he leans in closer to whisper, his dick plunged deep into your cervix, “let me hear you, pretty.”

and with that taehyun lets go of your hair, your limp body falling forward, warm walls still fluttering around him, and head n mind oh so fuzzy. almost immediately does he give you a spank to your ass, an imprint of a gorgeous crimson color plastered on your skin.

taehyun’s gaze that was raking down your spine was interrupted by the throw of his head back, a soft hiss at the feeling of a tight clench gripping around the sides of his cock. the intensity of his slap has got you shuddering and spasming, crying out in ecstasy, and toes curling in.

momentarily, taehyun just stares at you almost in a mix of disbelief and amusement, meanly laughing at your pathetic release. “did you just cum from that? hah… maybe i should spank you more often, hm?”

and his pace picks back up, hips fucking you into oblivion, relishing in your screams and legs trembling of overstimulation…

“fucking take it all like a good girl.”

#txt imagines #txt smut #oh to be railed by taehyun #taehyun #taehyun smut #hehe taehyun hehe hes so hot hehe i want him so bad #taehyun x reader #backwards forwards sideways upside down right side up on the moon on the grass on a spaceship in public on a balcony on the beach in the ca #head full of taehyun #well there’s other things that i wish are full of taehyun ;) #MY MAN MY MAN MY MAN #taehyun ohh taehyun oh taehyun hhhhhhhh #I NEED HIM !!!!!!!!! KANG TAEHYUN WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MEEEEEE #writing smut >>>> writing my 2k word essay that’s due in 4 hrs #hyukqi

[starry-bi-sky]

more clone^2 memes because i think they're funny

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #clone^2 #danny fenton is not the ghost king #so canon to clone^2 and clone damian the portal that ends up transporting damian to amity park is left pr ambiguous #so really how he got there could be one of many things whether it be through divine intervention or clockwork's doing or hell #it could've also been quite literally the 1 in 1 millionth chance that a natural portal opened up beneath him and sent him to amity #and was a happy accident #but the idea that the laz pits or another adjacent such entity heard damian wanting an older brother (he meant og damian but oops never- #specified) and then sends him to the one person who could fulfill that wish and make him happy at the same time. #was really funny to me within the context of the lilo and stitch meme. the meme can also be seen the other way around with danny as lilo #and damian as stitch. but danny being stitch was infinitely funnier and ~technically~ more accurate imo #danny technically IS a nice angel but also. he's a developing menace to society (just ask wes) and he's going to make damian one too #danny being from the midwest means he has a midwestern accent and thats not something the bats know how to handle when they finally meet hi #hey look at that! my meme making skills are steadily improving. im no longer making the same joke six different times in different formats #those first two images i made a few days ago the rest i made in the last thirty minutes in a spur of clone^2 induced inspiration #and procrastination of writing the cfau rewrite of the first post. we are 10k words deep folks and just barely got past the 1st gala reunio #dunking on the giw is a god-given right and danny WILL pass it down to damian

[afewproblems]

The Holiday Party had gone quite smoothly, more than he was expecting if Steve was being honest with himself.

Until about halfway through, but that was pretty par for the course.

Jonathan had unearthed an old Rummoli Board from a box labeled 'Basement Misc', the Byers were still in the middle of unpacking from their move back to Hawkins, and brought it alongside a bottle of wine that Nancy had managed to smuggle from the Wheelers liquor cabinet.

Robin, who rode with Eddie and Argyle, brought pizza, the only copy of It's A Wonderful Life from Family Video, and way too much weed for just the six of them.

"It isn't a party without a little Kush Stevie," Eddie had told him, clapping his warm hand on Steve's shoulder, his thumb just high enough to rest on bare skin above the collar of his sweater.

All Steve could do was roll his eyes and take the pizzas, quickly ducking into the kitchen before Robin or, God Forbid, Eddie could comment on the pink flush that had taken over his face at the new nickname.

Robin had been insisting that Steve just tell Eddie how he felt for the last few weeks. Rip the bandaid off and come clean. What was the worst that could happen?

Which, really Robin?

Steve knows exactly what happens when someone puts themselves out there only for the other person to not feel the same way. His whole argument was currently sitting in his living room for fucks sake.

Sure, Steve and Nancy were on better terms now, but it also took two years to get there, and even still, there was a weird tension when they found themselves alone together.

So, no, telling Eddie was not an option, Robin.

Steve could keep it together. He could deal with the ache in his chest at the sight of Eddie's smile. Steve could deal with the way his heart beat quickened whenever Eddie said his name. He could deal with the heady flush that bloomed every time Eddie touched him.

He was fine, it was fine.

And, movie nights like these were nothing new in the wake of Vecnas defeat and the destruction of the Upside Down. Steve needed to keep it together if he wanted to continue to have this. Nights without the kids to look after or the adults to hide their indulgences from, these were the nights where they could truly relax.

These were Steve's favourite, and he was not going to let some Bullshit feelings stand in the way of being able to see Eddie.

This Christmas Eve found the six of them lounging on pillows and extra couch cushions from the basement to make the 'best movie watching set-up thank you very much', according to Robin, and watching It's a Wonderful Life for the umpteenth time.

"I can't believe that George Bailey would wish for something like that, when it's so obvious that people care about him," Robin scoffs at the top of her voice about halfway through the movie, prompting a irritated Shush from Nancy.

"That bro is depressed man, it's like a cry for help, and on Christmas, this shit is heavy dude," Argyle hums, lifting his fist up to Robin who shakes it with a wild grin. The two erupt into violent giggles which begin to creep into Steve and Eddie and eventually Jonathan as well. Nancy rolls her eyes but can't help the smile that takes over her face as well.

"Who would wish to never be born when you could just wish for the bank to like, not fuck you over, seems like a waste of a wish if you ask me," Eddie says as the last traces of giggles begin to finally disapate.

"Ooo, Eddie's right!" Robin says as she reaches for the remote, hitting pause on the movie. She waves her hands through the chorus of groans from everyone except Eddie who turns around to Steve with an incredulous expression on his face.

Steve shrugs as Robin continues, unable to look away from those large brown eyes until a hand darts out to smack him in the chest.

"Steve, pay attention," Robin huffs, "let's go around and share what we would wish for!"

Oh shit.

Steve turns on the couch to fully face Robin with narrowed eyes. She grins at him, lifting a single eyebrow as her blue eyes dart between Eddie and Steve.

Steve opens his mouth to argue, to insist that they just carry on with the movie, only for Eddie to drum his hands against his knees and speak.

"Oh birdie, I'm way ahead of you, this is Wayne's favorite Christmas movie so I've done a lot of thinking 'bout this".

Eddie clears his throat and lifts his hands from his knees now as though he's about to launch into a story for Hellfire, "I would personally wish for the money to be able to fund Corroded Coffin full time, get a demo done, and then be able to kiss this fucking one horse town good bye!"

Steve feels the words hit him like a bucket of cold water.

Eddie wants to leave Hawkins.

His wish, his dream, for forever from the sounds of it, is to leave them all behind.

To leave Steve behind.

The voices from the group, pitched high and low, all blend together into one as the rest of the group share their own wishes.

Steve absently feels a small hand grip his own, he looks up to see Robin staring at him, a worried frown pinched between her eyebrows. He answers her silent question with a shake of his head.

It was fine, he was fine. This was a good thing, better to know now than later when Eddie would inevitably leave him behind.

"Stevie?"

Steve startles as a ringed hand waves precariously close to his face. Eddie smiles faintly at him, one dimple on display as he speaks again.

"Kinda lost you for a second there, what about your wish?"

"Oh," he manages to say with a slight laugh in his voice, even as his brain fills with static, "um, I haven't ever really thought about it, maybe some new music or something".

Nancy and Jonathan both boo loudly from the love seat while Argyle nods with a hazy smile.

"Right on my man, sounds like Eddie'll be able to help when his band makes it big," he says before turning back to the television and slumping even more heavily into the couch.

Steve forces out another bright laugh, ignoring how much it burns his throat and crushes his chest. The only thing keeping him in his seat is the firm hold of Robin's hand on his own.

He doesn't look at Eddie as he leans forward to press play on the movie once more, letting the music and dialogue fill the room once more.

Later, as the end of the credits roll and the tape switches back to static, Nance and Jonathan are fast asleep. The pair are cuddled up on the love seat, their heads leaning against one another. It would almost be cute if not for the pang of envy that fills Steve at the sight.

Steve tries to bask in the warmth of having Robin cuddled into his side, knowing it will alleviate at least some of the ache in his chest. Robins eyes have been steadily growing heavier as she slowly falls further and further into Steves side. He smiles, reaching up to brush her hair away from her face.

At least he has Robin, and maybe for now that is enough.

***

This is a part one, let me know if anyone would like a part Two?

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #afewproblems writes #steve x eddie #getting together #holiday steddie #holiday fic #based very very loosely on the idea of a christmas wish in Its a Wonderful Life #been awhile since ive written these guys #i hope you all enjoy! #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #argyle #please ignore any typos i wrote this in one go on my phone #part one christmas wish

[uncanny-tranny]

Good news! You aren't required to make your hobbies and passions "marketable." In fact, your crafts, hobbies, and passions don't even need to be public if you so choose. You don't have to spend all of your energy becoming perfect if you aren't enjoying the process. You are not a product, you are a person, a creative, and your work also does not need to be a product.

#positivity #yet another post that's like... thinnly-veiled as being for myself #i find myself freezing with anxiety when i think about the things i used to do (writing especially) because... #...i had felt this force to make it ~content~ and ~marketable to an audience~ and it was so fucking daunting... #...it felt like being a gladiator in a coliseum #even now i fight the urge to equate being marketable to being acceptable and worthy of admiration and praise #i wish i hadn't burnt myself out of writing by doing this because i'm simultaneously grieving my writing and hating it #and it sucks the life out of what makes you feel like a person and it takes the art out of art #so be free! pist your art or don't! you are beholden to nobody!!! #(obviously this is not the case for professional artists who rely on their art to keep them alive) #(and i criticize heavily the idea that audiences are entitled to an artists labour) #(i understand that this isn't universal and if it doesn't apply to you then you don't have to take me seriously) #(if you are a professional artist or what have you i hope you are able to feed and house yourself off of that career!) #(i hope you are able to live a happy life and be able to keep loving what you're doing)

[defectiveferalfreak]

i rediscovered @nicktoonsunite and @choraa ‘s art like wowie did they inspire me to dip my toes into NUverse??

also i cant believe Dib and Zim basically waltzed into NU:GoD, like WHATS UP B*TCHS WE  GONNA HELP WHETHER U WANT IT OR NOT like can u believe that lol

#nicktoons unite #nicktoons unite globs of doom #nicktoons unite GoD #i find it ironic its called NU GoD #invader zim #dib membrane #iz zim #iz dib #ive been sitting on the doodles ideas since end of AUGUST. basically so long that i started to hate them lol #i have a lot of thoghts about nicktoons!Dib&Zim but almost no concentration to draw much of it #because helooo fandom interest change like autumn leaves #but i fell in love with possible nicktoons universe with those two assholes in it so they WILL live rent free in my head #so many details of this doodles that i want to talk about but im afraid to start rambling #so im just gonna sit and hope someone notices those little things #throwing this nicktoons!IZAU into the void so i could stop obsessivly staring at unfinished doodles. also gonna go cry over nicktoonsunite a #and choraa awesome OG4 art like those are fucking goals #and lack of fics for nicktoons adventures ;( like i wish someone was brave enough to write some cool NU advnetures <;( #danny phantom #fairly oddparents #the adventures of jimmy neutron: boy genius #spongebob squarepants #if someone asks me about this au i probably wont have much to say because its all very vague but i will most likely go feral lol #i wish i could finish my iz star wars au doodles ;( theyve been in my files since summer haha

[bluerosefox]

Of Godsons, Fruitloops, and Lois 'I will drag all secrets out into the sun' Lane

Danny loses his parents due to their own lack of safety in the lab (death? Coma? People finally putting their foot down about the Fenton's endangering their kids? Idk pick). Jazz can't take him in due to being in college and living on its campus (and he didnt want to force her into an apartment just to keep him, he saw the prices and knows she'll have to work to make rent) and Danny fears the only place he can go to is... Vlad. (Sam's parents would never let him live with her and Tucker's place doesn't have the room)

Vlad's been lording it over Danny, smug about it all, after all he IS Danny's godfather and he has the space and money to provide for the boy in his time of need.

Only, when digging into Danny's files, his social worker discovers Vlad isn't Danny's godfather, he was meant to be but the Fenton's forgot to send/sign in the final paperwork (even if those documents were the only contact they had with Vlad over the years before the reunion)

No Danny's godparent, the person to take him should anything happen to the Fenton's is....

Lois Lane.

His mom's childhood friend.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #blue rambles #crossover #writing ideas #random idea #danny phantom dc #dpxdc #Lois gets a call about her godson who she hasnt really seen since he was a toddler #both she and Maddie had gotten busy with their lives and careers but did still talk at time #she does still send things and have talked with Danny over the phone though #though last time they spoke was before his accident #when she see's him alarm bells start ringing #Danny just got out of a fight with Skulker and is kinda curling in on himself as Vlad is towering over him and threatening him #Vlad is trying to use Lois as a 'Tell her you wish to stay with me and I wont have to harm her' threat against Danny #ooooh what if Clark was with her #and hears EVERYTHING Vlad's been saying #normally i do the bats but hey I wanna switch it up a bit #Lois has a new rich target to sic her investigate journalism on #'hmmm yes EXACTLY how did you get so rich so fast again Mr. Masters?'

[solarmorrigan]

TW: Brief description of a panic attack, mentions of PTSD

-

Post-S3 AU with Steve who, after much badgering (and minor bribery) agrees to drive The Party out to The Good Haunted House outside of town a little before Halloween

He doesn't plan on going in, because after what happened over the summer, having people jumping out at him and screaming while possibly brandishing weapons seems like a bad idea. But then he sees the kids walking off into the dark, swarmed by people who look intentionally threatening, leaving his sight, and he decides "fuck it" and goes in after them

Unfortunately, he was correct, and being in an enclosed, poorly-lit space with occasionally flashing lights where people jump out and scream at him is, indeed, A Bad Idea. Worse, their group gets turned around and Steve gets separated from the kids, and then he's alone, he has no idea where in the house he is, or where the kids are, and he's panicking

It really sets in that he's kinda fucked when he stumbles into the the "haunted hospital" themed room and nearly decks the mad doctor in a bloody face mask and apron that comes out wielding a chainsaw. He catches himself in time, but it still makes Steve feel worse, because it's not this guy's fault that Steve can't handle a jump scare, it's not this guy's fault that Steve shouldn't be here at all, that he's fucked up and he should have known better than to come in, and Steve doesn't want to hurt anyone but he doesn't know how the fuck he's going to get out of there, he really doesn't, and -

Enter haunted house actor Eddie, who is used to being threatened with violence (and has, in fact, been punched once before), but who is less used to people having literal heaving breakdowns in the middle of his room. People get scared, yeah, but this - this is another level. This dude looks like he's about to pass out. He doesn't even really look like he's present; the look in his eyes is uncomfortably distant

So Eddie puts down the chainsaw, pulls off his mask and gloves and approaches Steve slowly. The room is fairly quiet without the revving of the chainsaw, so he manages to get Steve's attention, and asks if he wants Eddie to get him out of there

Steve can only nod

Eddie gets him out the back way, the way customers really aren't supposed to go through, but it's faster, and then they're out in the open air and Steve can almost breathe again. Eddie asks him what he can do, and Steve asks him to talk. To remind Steve of where he is

So Eddie talks; he tells Steve he's somewhere outside of Hawkins at a haunted house, tells Steve what it's like to work there, filling the space with funny stories, and it grounds him. By the time Steve feels like the world isn't caving in on him, he can hear the kids shouting from around the other side of the house, looking for him

He has just enough time to thank Eddie before The Party falls on him and he puts his attitude back on, herding them back towards the car with promises of dinner on the way back "if you can all shut up for five minutes"

In the back of his mind, though, he's wondering if he might just drive back out here on his own tomorrow night. Not to go back in--god, no--but to maybe ask at the front who the mad doctor is. Steve thinks he'd like to thank him for his kindness properly

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve & the party #eddiesteve #I dunno man I wish I had the energy to write this in full but here's a little steddie halloween thought #solar wrote #long post #tw panic attack #sorry for tagging triggers after the fact my brain was all over the place this morning