For The Mun, How Do You Feel About Writing Explicit Smexy Scenes, Do You Get Into It?

for the mun, how do you feel about writing explicit smexy scenes, do you get into it?

That's the $64,000 question, isn't it? I'll put most of this under a cut.

I don't mind it. When it is relevant to the characters, like when it shows their development, or how they are setting fears or worries aside to try out trusting each other, to experience vulnerability, then it can be a lot of fun to write. I need there to be some kind of context, and usually need at least some measure of a slow-burn approach. I know some things can surprise me with how much they make me uncomfortable, so I assume it can be the same for others. I strongly prefer that we be able to chat on Discord, because usually if we're to that point when hopefully we'll both be comfortable putting the brakes on if need be, for any reason. And it's just so much easier to check in and be like, Oh hey can I have my character do X thing?? to avoid potentially god-modding.

That all being said, I'm aroace, so I don't like... get turned on by smut? Although I've written with people who do, who really love writing it and will feel physically affected, or at least have told me they have. That's totally fine with me. I won't judge you either way. I also don't need to know. For me, if I comment something like Hot! -fans self- that isn't something I mean literally, it won't have actually affected me. Someone rambled to me for like an hour once about how much writing sex scenes turned them on and it just like, left me sort of bemused. I don't get it, but it sounds sweet and I'm happy for them if they feel that way.

As for plotless smut... I can write it, but you might feel like you're pulling teeth to get me to. And really, I'll probably only write it if we have a good rapport and have written together before. Because underneath it all... I still feel bad at writing smut. I'll do it, it'll be fun, but I will be constantly doubting myself and wondering, Is that too much? How do the allos feel?? People like that, right? xD Even while writing the most graphic DDDNE stuff, I'll be overthinking it, and like sitting here arms folded, staring at the screen, trying hard to come up with what my idiot would do next.

Whoooo okay this was a longer answer than you probably wanted, I'm sorry. I hope it makes sense. This took me a shockingly long time to write.

The mun is presented with an [offering] 

An Asvine P36 Piston Filling Fountain Pen, with a complimentary bottle of dark crimson "Writer's Blood" Diamine ink.

Listen, Writer's Blood is quite possibly the BEST INK OF ALL TIME. So if anyone is considering trying out a fountain pen? Do it. Do it. Get a cheapie fountain pen and get a bottle of Writer's Blood and indulge in the sweet sweet goodness. It's the only ink I have actually finished multiple bottles of. It's so smooth, it shades beautifully on the right paper, it has a subtle golden sheen sometimes, it looks like blood in the pen but a sweet soft purplish-red (blood with way too much wine in it; ie, writer's blood) on the page, and it is just. so. good! SO GOOD.

It's harder to use with a dip pen because it's just so wet, you need really good paper (Unison brand composition books, made in Vietnam, are AMAZING and affordable), but you can use it with a dip pen too, if you want to feel really extra.

Writer's Blood is amazing and this ask made me smile so much, thank you!

I decided to try the proper spelling of his name and...

This How Are You in Bed quiz is trying to flatter Blitz... and it's working xD

Unless he absolutely could not take the time away from work, Vox had a personal policy: he always accepted invitations to business meetings, especially when they came from fellow Overlords. Whether the Overlord in question owned one soul or a thousand, or a hundred thousand, didn't matter to Vox. He always sent a hand-written thank-you card -- his desk pen was a sharp stub nib, the cardstock rich and creamy, the ink a deep oxblood -- along with his response.

Usually, the meetings were a snooze, some sad little lost soul pitching terrible ideas, or just wanting to ramble off bizarrely violent fantasies and fetishes in the hopes that he would put a show together for that specific thing. Vox always tried to stay polite and upbeat, cheerful and engaging; whenever he was in the public eye, he assumed he was being watched. It was never just the eyes of whoever he was meeting with on him. It was all eyes on him. That was the only way to keep himslef sharp enough to never show his disappointment or frustration. He treated each and every one of them like a valued companion, even when it killed him a little inside, even when he struggled to find a friendly, upbeat way to say No. And all too often, it was a No. Not always--Vox loved to try new things, loved to be innovative--but most of the time, because most of the time, it felt like someone would need to suffer to make a certain pitch a reality. Val might play fast and loose with his employees' happiness and wellbeing, but Vox valued his--

And considered everyone a potential subscriber, a rich and bountiful vein to be mined for gems and gold.

Besides, most people in Pride--in all of Hell, for that matter--were already his customers whether they knew it or not. He was in damn near all of their modern technology, he could see out of any camera that connected to any of his many, mny networks at any time, he watched every credit card transaction, he paid attention to surges in the movement of souls-as-currency. Vox violated everyone's privacy to sone degree, and it was absolutely glorious. So, they were all his customers, and he would always, always make time for customers.

Still, walking into Visage's club? He was fairly certain he had made a mistake--or that she had. Given that the invitation was to her own establishment, he'd brought a bottle of decent wine with a nice ribbon on it as a gift, but the moment he set foot in here? He felt drastically out of place. He was tired, the ports in the back of his head ached from overuse that day, and he wanted to go home and unwind. Why was he here? This place was thriving, the flow of cash certainly noteworthy, and the dancers looked...

"Excuse me," he said, reaching out to stop one who was dancing nearby.

"You're supposed to go to the VIP booth, sweetie, keep going to the back," she told him, without missing a beat.

"Oh, no, I'm--yes. Thank you. May I ask you something?" At a nod from her, he frowned, hesitating briefly, studying her face intently. If she was going to lie, he wanted to know it. "Are you safe here?" Because that was it, wasn't it? That was why this place didn't feel as sticky and seedy as the haunts Val liked to drag him to? The employees here didn't look furtive, didn't look frightened or harassed.

The sparkle in her eyes before she smiled said it all. Stunned, Vox hurried on to go meet this strange new Overlord.

-

When he saw Visage, he was sure of it. He wasn't supposed to be here. She must have gotten him mixed up in her mind, and intended to invite Valentino. The woman was stunningly beautiful, enough that Vox actually noticed, despite so rarely letting himself notice. There was a sultry energy to her, but a sharp intelligence to her eyes.

Confused, he nonetheless offered her the wine--French, smuggled in from the living world, worth a few thousand souls or nothing at all, depending on one's tastes.

"Visage!" Vox's smile was bright and professional, and he stood with his customary poise and confidence, as if none of-- of this was happening around him. "I hope you'll accept this, a token of my gratitude. Thank you for thinking of me, and inviting me here." He offered his hand. "It looks like the night is going well? Profitable, anyway!"

(For @doublejango's Vox, because I have no impulse control. WHOOP! WHOOP! -- Visage despised politics. It was one of the many reasons she had never been all too thrilled at her 'promotion', but that ship had long since set sail. It was what it was, and she had done her best to make the most of it. Indeed, to make more of the position than many of those that were her peers. Where most of them saw fit to jealously covet their power and collect the souls of the downtrodden, Visage had instead seen an opportunity for change. There was a better way--she would prove it to them. Unfortunately ... going against the grain, especially in an industry so near and dear to another Overlord's heart, didn't come without its fair share of risks. Valentino was not a rival to take lightly, by any means. And while she lacked to power, experience and resources to face her opposition directly ... if she was clever, maybe she didn't have to.

Setting up a meeting with any of the Vees, for someone in her position, probably seemed like suicide on the surface ... but Visage felt confident all the same. Misplaced confidence based on inexperience? Perhaps. There was only one way to find out. Having deliberately chosen one of the busiest nights at the club as an opportunity to show how her business was thriving, the hellhound waited patiently in her personal VIP booth near the rear of the club. The invitation she had extended to the Television Demon had been accepted, but would he actually show...? Time would tell. Normally, the lupine Overlord preferred more casual attire or a 'business chique' sort of look when she was on the clock, but not this time. This was a night of making lasting impressions, and so she had taken the task to heart, dressed in a figure-hugging black glittering leotard with several large sections of missing material ... with just enough in just the right places to keep her breasts covered. These were paired with black metallic cargo pants with a low enough waistline to show that she was not, in fact, wearing any undergarments beneath that leotard. Just enough to make it seem that she just so happened to be caught on a night where she was wearing more revealing attire. Pure coincidence, really.

"Damn right!" Blitz couldn't stop smiling at how cute all of them were. "Hey, do any of them like scritches? These little fuckers are adorable. Yes you are, look at you! You're gonna grow into those big feet, and you're gonna get biiiiiiig chompers, and everyone's gonna live in terror, yes they will, oh yes they will."

The little dinosaur Blitz had scooped up blinked in confusion, but didn't really object to the affection. The imp was scratching it and rubbing its horned head on it, and that felt homelike enough to settle the dinosaur halfway to sleep.

Blitz looked up at Lucid before reluctantly offering it back out. "You tell me if anyone ever tries to hurt these fuckers. Oh, I will end a bitch!"

I mean Blitz brought Audrey II home. How bad could it be if dinosaurs come to Hell too? Lucid should definitely bring them all! What could go wrong? - @doublejango

Context xxx)

“You know what? You’re right! I will bring them all home. I bet Luci would be thrilled to have dinosaurs back too!”

for @botanikos's sweet Stolas, who deserves to be allowed to sleep in but unfortunately got involved with a gremlin. continued from here, because of reasons

.

"We're just going down to your kitchen, and don't worry, you're gonna love it!" Blitz declared with far, far too much confidence. Deep down, he had the sneaking suspicion that he might have maybe fucked up, and that Stolas might finally kill him... but hey, the chances were good that Stolas would actually love his present, right? So, fuck it! Hashtag Worth it!

He carried him towards the kitchen--and past all of the staff who might normally be going in and out of there. Now, they were all just standing there, some with wide eyes, some looking frustrated, one or two afraid. Their morning routine had clearly been destroyed by whatever Blitz had done--and one of them was tying the majority of Stolas's forks to himself, apparently as some sort of armor.

"I saw it," Blitz declared, "and the poor thing just seemed so stuck. It was squished up in a dumpster on Earth, and I know you're into this shit, so..." Pushing the door open, he carried Stolas through--and up face to face with an extremely large carnivorous plant. Hell had its fair share of them, of course, as did Stolas's palace--but this new plant, while very similar to some of his, wasn't from Hell. A few of his kitchen plants had edged away nervously, scooting as far away as they could get, while the 'rescue' Blitz had brought him sat proudly in the middle of the room, stretching its roots and vines.

At their entrance, the plant quickly wilted, putting on its most feeble, harmless act, just as innocent and helpless as a lamb--as innocent as it could look with one of Stolas's other plants still sticking partially out of its mouth, wiggling feebly.

Blitz set his baby down and hopped over to stand next to the hungry giant, holding his hands out like this was a prize on a game show. "Look! Ain't it great? It's like, exactly what you grow, right?"

The plant snickered under its breath.