#jesus christ tagging critical role fic is so hard
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Pretend
In which Gwendolyn mimics her father, and Percy can't help but find it adorable.
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Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: None
Words: 1225
Originally posted: 12/3/22
Ao3 link: archiveofourown.org/works/43388748
A heavy sigh slips through Percy’s lips as he opens the door to his office, not even looking up from the letter sent to him by some diplomat from Syngorn. It’s a dreadfully boring thing, detailing useless information about the newest trade route that, frankly, Percy is struggling to care about. Gods, he needs a vacation. Perhaps he and Vex can sneak a trip to Zephrah soon. It would be nice to spend some time away with Vax and Keyleth.
His already drifting attention is fully snatched away by the sound of a stifled giggled from within his office. Percy snaps his head up. The sight presented to him is almost as baffling as it is adorable.
At his desk, Gwendolyn sits, lips pressed together to stop her laughter. To reach the tall desk, she’s stacked several thick, expensive tombs on Percy’s chair and sat atop them. Her form is positively drowning in one of his cloaks that has been repurposed as a blanket draped over her shoulders. A pair of spectacles made of wire and without lenses are sat on her face. On the desk lies a book about the history of Whitestone, and Gwendolyn appears to be reading it.
At least, she’s pretending to read it. The four-year-old can’t possibly begin to parse through the posh vocabulary, but she dutifully trails her finger along the words nonetheless, mouthing random shapes as if she’s whispering the text to herself.
Percy blinks. He doesn’t have any clue how to react to this display.
Gwennie looks up at him, clears her throat, and asks, “Can I help you?” Her efforts to sound professional are undermined by the way she can’t properly pronounce all her letters yet.
“Gwennie, what in Pelor’s name—” Percy begins, amused more than angry.
She shakes her head, bringing attention to her hair, and Percy could swear she’s covered the silky black strands in white chalk dust. “Nu uh. I’m not Gwennie. I’m Lord Percy.” Her legs are kicking gleefully under the desk.
Percy glances at the clock. Her lessons ended an hour ago, so she’s not skipping those. His office isn’t exactly off-limits, either, even though the children have an extensive playroom. And, yes, it’s discouraged for her to steal his coat and put chalk in her hair, but really, those are such small acts of disobedience that he doesn’t have it in him to be mad, or to deny her her game.
Especially when her game involves her mimicking him in such an adorable way.
“My apologies, Lord Percy,” he hums, folding the letter and slipping it in his pocket. “Are you working on something important?”
Gwennie grins. “Mh hm. Very important.” She gestures to the thick book on the desk as proof.
“Ah, I see. What are you reading?” Percy asks, approaching the desk to stand beside his daughter.
She looks down at the text, considering. “It’s about… um… dip-o-mats.”
Percy can’t stop his laughter. “Diplomats, dear,” he corrects her pronunciation, wiping some of the chalk out of her hair, careful to avoid the tender skin around her horns, which are just beginning to come in.
“Yep!” she agrees, despite having no idea what that word truly means. All she knows is that it sounds fancy and formal. “Like Mama! She’s a dip-lo-mat.”
It’s a bit surprising she even knows that much. “Indeed. So, what does this book say about diplomats?” Percy continues, pulling up a chair so he can sit beside Gwennie. Immediately, she chooses to forgo her own chair to clamber onto his lap. He doesn’t even care that the chalk covering her begins to transfer to his clothes.
“It says they’re really pretty, ‘cause Mama’s really pretty. And they’re super smart and cool.”
“Do you want to be a diplomat, Lord Percy?” he asks, tapping her nose to make her giggle and squirm.
“Nu uh. I’m a clock maker. I made this!” Gwennie insists, pointing to the bejeweled wrist-watch that her father had made her for her fourth birthday. “See? I even signed it!”
The writing she points to is not a signature, but an engraving of the words, ‘For Gwendolyn, my beloved daughter.’ Percy doesn’t have the heart to tell her that, though. “An admirable profession.”
Gwennie grins. “Mm hm. ‘Cause I’m super smart. Like you! Mama’s pretty and you’re smart.”
“And you are both,” Percy hums, adjusting his cloak as it tries to slip off her tiny shoulders. “My beautiful, brilliant girl. Did you make these glasses, darling?” he taps the wire spectacles on her face.
“Uncle Tary helped a little… but it was my idea!” Her pride shines through as she adjusts the faux-glasses to sit higher on her nose.
“A maker of clocks and glasses? My, aren’t you talented. What was the inspiration behind these?”
Gwennie throws her arms around his shoulders. “I just wanted to be like you, daddy.”
Oh, and that just makes him melt into something disgusting and gooey. Percy will never understand how he got so lucky to be blessed with Gwendolyn, or any of his children, but it’s a miracle he’ll cling to and appreciate with a fierce vigor. “You know, I’ll never complain about you playing pretend, dear, but I do like Gwennie far more than Lord Percy. And, ah, perhaps we should clean this chalk out of your hair before your mother sees it.”
“Too late,” the woman in question calls out, announcing her presence to the pair.
“Mama! Mama!” Gwennie calls out, clambering out of Percy’s lap so she can run up and bury herself in Vex’s poofy skirts. Vex smiles and meets her halfway, reaching down to lift Gwennie into her arms.
“Have you been playing dress-up, darling?”
“Mm hm! I wanted to be like Daddy!” she says, reaching out for Percy and making grabby hands.
Percy follows her unspoken instructions, joining his girls and wrapping Vex in a hug that sandwiches Gwennie between them, much to the little girl’s delight. She shrieks in laughter, and it’s a sound sweeter than the finest bard’s lute.
“Well, you certainly look the part. Though, that cloak is a bit large for you. I think we’ll have to make you one of your own.”
That’s an idea, Percy thinks. He makes a mental note to reach out to the castle tailor soon. Vex sends him a knowing look, but he can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed by appreciating his daughter’s adorable games.
Especially when Gwennie claps her hands together. “Can we? Please? Pleaseeeeee?”
“I’ll look into it,” Percy promises, finally parting himself from Vex’s embrace. “For now, I think it’s time to take a bath. Chalk isn’t typically supposed to go in hair.”
“Ten more minutes?” Gwennie asks, burrowing into her mother’s arms and batting her eyes at Percy.
With her, ‘ten more minutes’ really means at least an hour.
And yet, Percy is a weak, weak man, and really, what’s the harm in waiting a bit? “Alright. Ten more minutes.”
The speed at which he gave into her makes Vex roll her eyes, but she doesn’t overrule him. How can she, when Gwennie is already beaming with her success? “Thank you, Daddy! Mama, did you see my glasses? I made them!”
As his daughter dramatically explains her process of crafting the glasses and his wife listens along, smiling softly, Percy has never felt happier.
#Critical Role#Percy de rolo#Gwendolyn de rolo#Percival de rolo#percival fredrickstein von musel klossowski de rolo iii#gwendolyn zahra melanie von musel de rolo#jesus christ tagging critical role fic is so hard#why do they need such long names#Vox Machina#The Legend Of Vox Machina#critical role fic#critical role fanfic#critical role fanfiction
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Toss A Coin to Your Witcher
Henry Cavill x Reader
Words: 2,362
I am so so so nervous to post this because this is my first time writing a Henry fic and I know that the Henry Cavill fandom is such a tightknit family, I hope you guys have room for one more hopeless Henry stan. I know this isn’t even half as good as the other Henry fics out there but I had this idea stuck in my head for a very long time.
Please like and reblog or leave me some replies if I should do a second part! Thank you!
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The makeup brush swept precisely along your cheekbone, covering it in a subtle shimmer. Production staff milled around behind you, testing sound, testing lights. Being an actor, these things were nothing new.
"Now remember, say it with me,"
"Don't say or do anything stupid." you recited with your long time agent and friend, Marge.
You thanked the makeup artist and made your way to the set.
"When have I ever said or done anything stupid though?" you asked
Marge looked at you appraisingly before replying,
"There's always a time for everything. Now go on."
The vibe on set dialled to a hundred when you stepped on. It was really flattering how they cheered as you plonked your butt down on the wooden chair, a red tarp was set up behind you and the studio lights surrounded the area.
"Ready when you are Y/N!" the producer aka the ring leader of this whole operation flashed you a thumbs up
You nodded, feeling the nervousness bubble up your throat.
Surprise, surprise. You still got nervous in front of the camera. It wasn't hard to handle though, you took a couple of deep breaths and you were good to go.
"Hey guys, gals, and non-binary pals! I'm Y/N Y/L/N. I'm here with Buzzfeed and we're gonna be playing Twenty Questions." you winked at the camera with your arms wrapped around the little jar that had your questions in it
"Let's get started, shall we?"
Eager to begin, you stuck your hand into the jar without a second thought.
"I freaking love Buzzfeed, really. Especially Tasty, I mean, I don't cook. But," you shrugged, wiggling your fingers, hearing the tiny bits of folded paper move around in the jar. "I love watching people cook. Then I love eating."
Scattered chuckles broke out through the crew.
After a few minutes of rustling around, you figured you’d just come clean, "Okay. Small problem."
You lifted your hand, the jar coming along with it. The pieces of folded paper crowding around your encased wrist as you waved your arm.
Another round of shocked giggles started up as a couple of assistants rushed to you and tried to yank the jar off.
"This is too good," the producer chortled, "Mind if we keep this in?"
"Fine by me!" you watched intently as Marge rolled up your sleeve so one assistant could pour oil all over it. Eagle eyed, she watched as a drop of oil landed on the bottom hem of your sweater.
"Great job, Y/N. This sweater was a gift from that designer you met last week, he said he made it just for you." she scolded, taking charge by grabbing the jar with two hands
"It was an accident, Marge. It's not like I planned on getting my hand stuck in a jar today!"
With a tug and a pop, your hand was free and slick with olive oil. Marge landed on her butt on the floor.
"Marge!" you howled with laughter, helping her up
She straightened her blouse, all business but her cheeks were stained red with embarrassment.
"Can someone help Y/N wash the oil off her hands? Let's get this show on the road, people!" she barked marching orders at the staff, clapping her hands as she went. She wasn't in charge here but no one dared to question her.
You chuckled, knowing that this was a cute little anecdote you’d be sharing with anyone who was willing to listen.
A few minutes later, you were back in your chair, having a laugh with everyone. The jar incident already stripped away the majority of your anxiety so you were ready to go.
"Okay! First question!" you squinted at the strip of paper, "What is the most expensive thing you’ve stolen from any set you’ve been on?"
“Well!” you widened your eyes at the camera, “Bold of you all to assume that I’ve ever stolen anything!”
Marge scoffed rather audibly, making everyone raise their eyebrows at you.
“Okay, fine!” you held up your hand. The stunning ring you had on sparkled underneath the lights, nearly blinding anyone who looked.
“I did a period movie a while back and they had these drop dead gorgeous, and I mean gorgeous pieces of jewelry. I wore this piece,” you gazed down at the ring fondly, “for the whole of the film and I just pinched it after we wrapped, I couldn’t part with it, okay? I’m like a fricking magpie, I love shiny things.”
The crew burst into fits of laughter, making you laugh along with them.
“To clarify! This is the replica the props department had made, a very expensive replica. I can see you freaking out, Marge. And no, you don’t have to call the insurance company.”
You were a big hit, to say the least. You had them in stitches every time you opened your mouth but all good things had to come to an end, right?
It didn’t matter how carefully you dipped your hand into the question jar, this next one was going to make things very messy for you.
"What do you like to do in your free time?" you read out loud, tapping a finger against your chin
"There hasn't been much free time lately,” you chuckled, “Let’s see… I play video games, yeah. I am so obsessed with the Witcher, it's borderline unhealthy. I’ve read all the books and played the games so many times."
"What do you think of Henry Cavill as Geralt?" the producer asked you
Henry Cavill.
Just hearing that man's name was enough to make the blood rush to your cheeks. You brushed an imaginary hair out of your face. From behind the camera, Marge raised a knowing brow.
"Well," you cleared your throat and sat up straighter
"To be honest, at first I was really skeptical about his casting. I mean, he is way too good looking. Like way. Way. Too good looking. But…"
"But?"
Your mind drifted to the first time you saw a picture of Henry Cavill in full costume. The white hair, the golden cat eyes, the intense gaze and all that leather? It definitely made you feel… Certain things.
You cleared your throat, propping yourself on the table with your arms. To be honest, your head was still in a Henry Cavill haze so you had zero control of what came out of your mouth next.
"I'd definitely toss all my coins to that Witcher. Toss a few other things as well."
Everyone in the room ooh'ed and whistled, delighted by your saucy reply. The ruckus snapped you out of it and your hand immediately flew to your mouth.
“Please tell me I didn’t just say that out loud.”
“You did.” Marge mouthed at you, trying but failing to contain her laughter
"So you enjoyed his performance as Geralt?" the producer pressed on, hoping to get more audience-raking answers
How many times were you going to blush during this interview?
"Oh, well, about that, I haven't really gotten around to actually watching it.” you admitted sheepishly, “But I've seen photos and some clips. Very impressed by what I've seen so far."
"You will watch it though, right?"
"Oh, absolutely. No way I’d miss out on that! Henry Cavill is an incredibly wonderful, talented actor. I think he’s also a fan of the franchise so I have no doubt that he played Geralt to perfection as with all his other roles." you nodded solemnly, putting a hand to your heart
Everyone in the room with you caught on that you were gushing over the actor, the sly looks they all exchanged with one another were a dead giveaway. Too bad you didn’t notice before you could try and play it cool.
“Alright! I think it’s time for the next question!” you declared, swiftly plucking another question out of the jar
By the time it was all over, you had convinced yourself that your little crush-related blunder wasn’t even a big deal, it would probably just be a little footnote in that video. No biggie.
But, Jesus Christ were you wrong.
The video took a couple of weeks to edit and in that time, you were busier than ever. A movie you had just done was getting a lot of attention, your performance in particular had critics singing your praises. At that point, you were definitely getting noticed a lot more when you stepped out for coffee.
So, the timing was just perfect.
The second the video went live, your phone was going off non stop. Twitter mentions, Instagram tags, and articles. A few notable entries being:
“WATCH: RISING STAR Y/N Y/L/N GUSHES ABOUT HENRY CAVILL IN CHARMING BUZZFEED VIDEO”
“@geraskier-rights: Y/N Y/L/N REALLY SAID SHE’D TOSS ALL HER COINS TO HENRY CAVILL’S GERALT AND WE ALL KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS”
“@geralt-of-vengerberg: Y/N The Fond™ is showing👀👀👀”
Marge sat on your sofa with your phone in hand, absolutely thrilled while reading tweets out loud. You scheduled a panic session with her over lunch once everything blew up.
“Oh my God.” you groaned, massaging your temples. “Marge, what do I do?”
“About what?” she didn’t even bother to look up at you
You plopped yourself down next to her, laying your head in her lap, “All that. It’s everywhere.”
“And? There’s nothing wrong with it, they all think you’re charming and funny. A true Relatable Queen.”
Was it your sanity slipping through your fingers? Or the overpowering embarrassment? You had no idea but whatever it was, it had you laughing until your stomach hurt.
Marge tugged at your hair, “Get it together, bitch. Jeez.”
“What are you so worried about anyway?” she asked, placing your phone on your stomach
You swiped through your emails absentmindedly, “I’m not worried about anything, it’s just that what if…”
You left the words hanging in the air, you might as well have been dangling from a cliff from how much colour drained from your face.
“What if what?”
Marge shoveled some pasta into her mouth before noticing that you essentially turned into a statue right next to her.
“Y/N!” she shook your arm with a grip you were sure would leave some bruises. “What’s the matter?”
Wordlessly, you passed your phone to her, the comment from a certain verified account displayed prominently on Buzzfeed’s Instagram post of a little snippet from your video, the “I’d toss all my coins to that Witcher” part, naturally.
“@henrycavill: Dear Y/N, how many coins are we talking about here? Let’s talk about my reward.”
It was all Marge could do to not throw your phone across the room. Her eyes went wide, following your every move as you paced back and forth, a thumbnail in your mouth.
“That did not just happen, I did not just see that right now. I didn’t.” you babbled, your heart beating thunderously in your chest
There it went. Your very own ticking time bomb finally went off. Number of casualties? Just one. You.
“Okay. Just calm down, Y/N.” Marge caught you mid-pace, squeezing your arms
“Maybe it was a fan account. Tell me it was a fan account, Marge. Henry Cavill did not just hear me imply what I implied.” you grasped at her hand with your clammy one
“Well if he has a fan account that’s verified and has fourteen point five million followers?”
“Oh god.” you groaned, sinking to the floor and hugging your knees
“Oh, Christ.”
Marge hauled you to your feet and thrust your phone in your hand. She looked you hard in the eye, “Stop your whining and answer him. You’re Y/N fucking Y/L/N, one of the hottest people on the planet, start acting like it.”
You stared at her, eyes wide. Your chest rose and fell rapidly. Marge’s words started to make sense in your mind and adrenaline started surging through your veins. You nodded fervently, psyching yourself up.
“Fuck yeah.” you breathed, clicking ‘Reply’
“@yourinstagram: @henrycavill I know you take orens, crowns, and florens but maybe we should discuss further?”
Before you could even stop yourself (did you even want to?), your fingers already landed on the blue paper plane.
“I did it.” you exhaled, staring as the likes and overly enthusiastic replies started pouring in
“Fuck yeah, you did. Now, come on. Leave your phone. We’re getting drunk.”
More weeks passed and you actually ended up forgetting about that little reply you left Henry Cavill. You were busier than ever. Guestings, endorsement deals, and awards shows left and right. So, when you finally had a couple of days free, you decided you would set up camp on your sofa and finally watch Henry Cavill as Geralt of Rivia.
You even threw on your Superman pyjamas, “What the hell.” you shrugged
If you were going down this road, you might as well do it right. Maybe you would even watch the Man from U.N.C.L.E after or would it be Night Hunter? The decision would have to wait.
You watched, absolutely riveted as the White Wolf battled against the kikimora, his silver sword hacked at the creature with unmatched expertise. You were only a few minutes in but you already knew you’d be stuck on that sofa for hours.
When the kikimora had Geralt pinned underwater with his trusty sword just beyond arm’s reach, you found yourself on the edge of your seat, one of your cushions in a chokehold.
“Come on, come on, come on.” you muttered as Geralt reached for his sword
You wouldn’t find out if he got it or not. A knock on your door literally made you fall off the sofa.
“Fuck!” you exclaimed, your hip was already smarting from the impact
Whoever that asshole was, you swore you were going to give him a piece of your mind. You stomped to your front door just as that idiot started knocking again.
You huffed and threw the door open then your mind immediately went blank.
“I am so sorry. Are you alright? I think I heard you fall?”
Oh yeah. You were definitely falling.
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You can find the second part here!
#henry cavill#geralt of rivia#the witcher#the man from uncle#night hunter#henry cavill x reader#henry cavill fic#henry cavill imagine#fanfiction#henry william dalgliesh cavill#cavillry
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41-51! For the fanfic ask meme~
Hold onto your ass because we’ve got a lot of stuff to go through so here we go!
41. List and link to 5 fanfics you are currently reading:
Ok, I’m too lazy to link these properly but these are the ones that I’ve always got open on my phone:
Defenseless Present: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11153640
75. Role Reversal: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11275458
Nozomi’s Menagerie-a-Trois: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11336712
Dark Souls Isn’t the Only Thing That’s Hard (I dunno why it’s open it just is): http://archiveofourown.org/works/10655964
Winner Takes All: http://archiveofourown.org/works/7191539/chapters/16321640
42. List and link to 5 fanfiction authors who are amazing:
Ok I’m just gonna link their tumblrs if they have one so here goes:
@master-thief-gray-shadow, a lovely lady from Chicago who writes a lot of high quality futanari. I’m not into that stuff, sorry I’ve got shit taste, but she’s one of the only people to ever give me actual criticism on my work and she’s just a fun gal to be around so yeah do me a favor and go check her stuff out if you haven’t already.
@zippyzapmeister. Does she even need an introduction? Like, really? Y’all know this chick, she’s infamous for making a lot of smut that’s really varied. She also got me to be a little less harsh on futa stuff, and I’ve even written some stuff for her and vice versa. She’s also just an amazing friend and a wonderful person that I’m really glad to have gotten to know. So yeah, go check her out.
@zoegmiller, who does a lot of really good fire emblem smut. Like seriously, her stuff is at a level that I can only dream of reaching, and all of her work is just so goddamn amazing. I haven’t really gotten to know her all that much, but what interaction we’ve had has been great, so go read her stuff and be amazed by how awesome it is.
LordByronMudkippington is a guy on AO3 and FF.Net who writes some really good love live smut. And when I say good, I mean damn fucking sublime good. He is severely underrated in my opinion, and honestly, you guys should do me a favor and go read his stuff because it’s awesome and you’ll like it. He also does a lot of love live rarepairs so if you’re into that then you’ll be right at home. I dunno if he has a tumblr or not, but here’s his AO3 account: http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lord_Byron_Mudkippington/pseuds/Lord_Byron_Mudkippington
SatsunonSavior is a writer who wrote some really spicy Satsuki x Nonon BDSM stuff, but the thing that really made me love her was a thing called Dear Diary. Which was some Ryuko la Satsuki BDSM, and holy fucking hell on a bike, it was sooooooooooo sublime!!! Like, it’s my all time favorite fanfic, so yeah, she’s a goddess in my eyes. So go give her stuff a read: http://archiveofourown.org/users/SatsunonSavior/pseuds/SatsunonSavior
43. Is there anybody in your fandom who really inspires you?
Indeed there is, and those people are listed above, actually. Seriously, Gray, Bonnie, and Byron all give me so much goddamn inspiration, and I wanna be as good as them someday.
44. What ship do you feel needs more attention?
Nozomilla. Ok, I know it’s a crack ship, I know only like 5 people care about it, but it’s just something I hold dear. Like, I feel like I made something beautiful because of my love for that ship, and I want people to see the beauty that I see in it too. So while I know that it’ll never happen, I’m just gonna keep on hoping it starts to catch on.
45. What’s your all-time favorite fanfic?
Like I said above, SatsunonSavior’s Dear Diary will always be my all time favorite. It’s just…. it’s just so fucking good, man. Go read it. Now. Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6907453
46. If someone was to read one of your fanfics, which fic would you recommend to them and why?
Either Hot and Cold or Dark Souls Isn’t the Only Thing That’s Hard. Hot and Cold because it’s probably the best thing I’ve ever written and I just wanna show it off, and Dark Souls because it’s a lot more normal and it’s actually really solid, despite me finding the fetish I wrote it for not all that attractive. That and it’s genuinely funny, according to some people. But if they wanted something really fun to laugh at, then A Magician Never Reveals Her Secrets or FUCK BEES INC. would be more their speed.
47. Archive Of Our Own, Fanfiction.net or Tumblr - where do you prefer to post and why?
AO3, because that’s where all the good shit is. Also they don’t have fun police like on FF.net.
48. Already answered that one, sorry!
49. Do you care if people comment/reblog your writing? Why/why not?
I live for that. Like, getting any sort of feedback, be it positive or negative, is welcome (as long as it’s not telling me that my bellybutton fetish is gross, in which case I will kill you), but I just want people to see the fruits of my labor and I wanna know what they think.
50. How did you get into reading and/or writing fanfiction?
I was collabing with a friend of mine on this KLK story thing, and we decided to make it a series. So I thought it’d be fun to write one of them since he was doing most of the writing, and it turned out that my writing was really good and I decided to become a writer of bellybutton smut. Two years and 22 fics later (I’m slow when it comes to producing good stuff, I know), and I’m still going and I’ve met so many awesome people along the way.
51. Rant or Gush about one thing you love or hate in the world of fanfiction! Go!
Ok… I’m gonna put a cut under this because my rant is gonna be a little bit controversial. Enter at your own risk, kiddos. Seriously, don’t read this, it’s bad, like you’re gonna want to burn me at the stake for what I’m about to say because I am gonna sound like an asshole and you do not wanna see me when I’m being stupid.
Oh, so you didn’t take my advice, huh? Well, you’re here now. Might as well not hold back then.
So…. Here we go. Ok. I don’t like futanari. I think it’s gross, dicks are gross, and the way a lot of the stuff is written is just so… disgusting to me. Like, it’s fine if you like it, I’m not gonna tell you to fuck off for liking dicks, trust me! But it’s just a fetish I see EVERYWHERE, and it just won’t leave me alone. Especially in the love live tag on AO3, futa is just all over the place, and while I’m sure it’s fucking paradise for those who really like it, I’m kinda sorta absolutely fucking sick of it. Like, I’ve written for it too, and I’m ok with the stuff I did, but jesus christ it’s a fucking confidence killer when my futa gets WAY more attention that my navel stuff. Like, I know that the majority isn’t into that, but would it kill you people to just give it a chance? I’ve given futa plenty of chances, and I didn’t like it all that much, so could you please do the same for me? Seriously, I work my ass off and get jack shit for my efforts and I don’t wanna have to sacrifice my enjoyment for what I’m writing for stuff that I’m gonna hate.
And while I’m at it, I really fucking hate the way dicks are written. It just sounds so… dumb. Like, pants tightening? Bulge? Why is this hot? SOMEBODY TELL ME WHY IT’S HOT!!!! Granted, the same anger and logic can be applied to my stupid little bellybutton stuff, but hey, it’s not like any of you people read it anyways so I feel like I have the right what vent.
And another thing: Why the fuck are people on FF.net such dicks? Like, seriously, y’all who left a review on Trapped in the Closet (you know who you are), aside from Gray and a couple other people, fuck you for mocking my kink. Like, seriously, all of you who told me it was gross, go fuck yourselves. I know the fic was bad, I’ll own up to that fact, but saying that I should write something more “normal” really hurt my feelings, ok?
Now, you shouldn’t sympathize with any of this, and honestly I feel like I should be shamed for having these opinions, and I’m sorry for having them too. Just don’t let my stupid little feelings get in the way of you doing what you want. Seriously, go follow your dreams and do what you want, write as many dicks as you please. I just feel like I needed to get that off my chest. I’m sorry. Anywho, I’m sorry you had to read that, but I hope you enjoyed the rest of the ask and that you have a good evening!!
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