#'not' isn't even an option i was given lol

[stellacendia]

Um. Duo. What??

[verdiesque]

howww do people do this

[cy-cyborg]

So, there's a lot I want to say about the paralypics, but every time I try I just... can't articulate what I want to say without it turning into a monster of a post that puts my writing advice posts to shame lol. This includes in response to the anonymous asks I got on the topic btw. So I'm going to try and summarise my thoughts here.

As someone who was working towards the Rio paralympics - who was basically one of the people they were actively training to be the next paralympians and who got to go if their choice first athletes had to drop out, the Olympics and paralympics are a... touchy subject for me. I loved playing. I loved my sport. I loved the people I played with. I loved the people I played against. But the way the public and people in power treats disabled athletes sucks. It Really really sucks. and it hurts to talk about.

The vast, vast majority of us aren't paid. We are expected to train at the same intensity as the Olympians with none of the breaks and none of the support to do so, resulting in injuries that are disabling in and of themselves, while juggling normal jobs. many of the paralympians are also in school or at university as well. both schools and jobs see these elite athletes as dedicated hobbiests at best.

I had a friend who were fired from their job because they were denied time off to compete at the paralypics and well, if i had to choose between the paralympics or stay at a shit job paying minimum wage, I know which one I'd pick, and so she didnt have a job when she came back. I have friends who are still in the closet because their sponsors would drop them if they came out as gay, who ended years-long relationships to keep the funding that allowed them and their teams to compete - funding that just covered the costs of travel by the way. They never saw a cent of it themselves, but it was the difference between us having to pay $50 each for our plane tickets and accommodation and having to pay $2,000Aud + for every away game. I have friends who were supposed to go to Tokeyo but were kicked off the teams weeks before the games because of a rule change that decided they weren't disabled enough anymore, wasting years of work with absolutely no warning. They weren't even given the decency of an appology from the people who made the call. Several went through terrifying mental health spirals over it. It was their life's work, gone. I saw so many friends just give up because their disabilities were "too hard to classify" into the International Paralympic Commity's boxes and who were made to feel they weren't welcome by the system spouting off about its diversity and inclusion and empowerment of disabled people.

And then with all that, the best we can hope for is for the social media teams to turn us into a joke for ableds to laugh at or into inspiration porn to make them feel good about themselves - because at least theyre not us. Because obviously, there are no other options in how to show us/sarcasm.

My phone doesn't even have "paralympics" as a recognised word. I have a Samsung. The company that is currently at the paralympics using them as a marketing opertunity. We aren't even recognised as a word in the phones made by the company that is currently using the paralympics as a marketing opportunity. The phones they're giving the athletes won't even recognise the name of the event that they got it at. If I've spelt it wrong, it's because it autocorrects it every time I try to spell it right, and im dyslexic and can't see the difference until I stare at it for a minute or so.

I just... this isn't even scratching the surface of my thoughts. But I wanted to say at least some of it. It will be the last I'm going to talk about it, at least until the event is over.

[harbours-lighthouse]

BLOOD TRACKS IN THE SNOW - PART ONE

— PAIRING: Joel Miller x F!Reader

— SUMMARY: Dying in the snow seems like a pretty poetic way to go, but it seems that's not your fate when a stranger finds you. Amidst the wariness of meeting someone for the first time, you're offered something warm and new: hope.

— AN: Lol, I wrote this on my phone before proof-reading and editing it on my computer. Unconventional but it works!

cw: post-outbreak setting, description of blood, mentioning of betrayal. wc: 2.3k

THE BLOOD on your face keeps you warm. You're trembling, curled into yourself like a bunny burrowing into the ground—you want to burrow. Bury yourself deep into the snow, dig at the frozen ground underneath until your nails are ripping. But all you can do is shake with sticky blood freckled along your cheeks, dripping from your temple and down your nose until it hits the snow. It doesn’t splash or splatter. It's simply soaked into the snow where it leaves a stain, blurred around the edges.

If you weren't so numb, maybe you'd scream—call out for help. It's a risky thing to do, but people are driven to do things that could get them killed when they're faced with death, which is ironic so to say. Maybe when the survival instinct locked away in your mind is given free reign, it knows what decision—what split second choice—will be more probable of welcoming your death with a metaphorical tip of your hat.

As you lay bent inward, spine pushing against the tattered remains of your jacket, your eyes begin to droop. Snowflakes fall on your lashes, but they don't melt along the swell of your cheeks like they should. You're too cold. The chill has settled into you, permeating your pores and coating your lips with frost.

But the cold doesn't affect your hearing as much as it does everything else. Falling deeper into the snow, hands flinching with tremors that run deeply through your whole body, the crunch of snow beneath heavy boots joins the wail of the wind. Shuffling. Hot breaths puffing into the air. You can hear it all, but you can't move. Can't think.

Can't fight back.

The thought brings along miniscule movement: a jerk of your bent legs, the sharp jolt of your heart against your aching ribs. Your lashes are frozen, and it feels like stones are weighing down your eyelids as you peer upward.

Through the grey haze of snow and wind, a broad-shouldered shadow stands in front of you. A whine in the back of your throat joins the howling wind. The rush of snow.

Is it a bear? A moose? An infected? A person?

You'd be happy with either option, as long as it meant that you're not alone right now. Isn't that what this world is good at now? Turning people into unmarked graves devoid of wooden crosses or tombstones? You don’t want that for yourself, and you've been fighting against that normality for the last ten years.

Crazy how one ill-timed blizzard could knock you off your a-game.

The shadow shifts. Snow crunches. Your vision is hazy at best, crowded with tears and black dots. There's something warm in front of you, that much you know, so even with the threat of being mauled to death or killed brutally, your fingers twitch for the heat—desperate to gather it up into your hands and smear it back into your skin. You'd paint yourself with sunlight if it meant that you never felt the cold again.

Through chattering teeth, you beg.

"H-Help me. Pl-Please."

The last thing you remember is something warm and heavy settling on your shoulder, and it felt like the shape of a hand.

—

Sound begins to filter in slowly, like water dripping from a tap—except that's exactly what you're hearing. The drip-drip-drip echoes inside your ears as it breaks through the milky film cast over your thoughts.

Then you feel the heat. It burns.

With the grace of a spooked deer flailing on the ground, your neck jerks upward to look down at your body, and pain spikes through your skull. A thick and fraying wool blanket covers you, draped over your body like a veil. After staring at the stiff fibres for a second too long, you flick your gaze upward to see what’s around you.

The first thing you notice is wood. Lots of it. Wooden rafters. Wooden walls. None of it smooth and sanded, instead rough and splintering along the edges. The drip-drip-drip is coming from a singular sink that's nearly completely detached from the wall, save for the yellow-stained pipe that keeps it there. There's a plastic table, the metal legs bent so it wobbles with each shake of the house. 

Through the headache pounding inside your head, your thoughts start crashing into one another with the speed that they come to you.

Where am I? Where did this come from? How did I get here? The blizzard is gone? Why am I in pain? Where am I? What is this place? How did I get here—

The creak of wood sends them lurching to a halt, kick-starting your heart to thump against your sternum like a rabbit.

"Was startin' to think you wouldn't wake up."

The gruff, masculine voice has you flinching upright, hands pressing against the wooden floor beneath you. Pain skewers itself through your ribs and down your spine, and the headache pulses between your temples like a hammer slamming against your skull repeatedly.

A groan vibrates in your throat, which you now realise is painfully dry. Your lips aren't frozen anymore, but the parched flesh splits.

"Easy. Ain't gonna hurt you. Not yet, at least."

Your eyes snap to where the voice comes from, and hidden in a shadowed corner of the room, sits a man in a rickety chair with a rifle balanced between his legs like a cane, hands folded and resting on the stock.

Dark brown eyes meet yours. They remind you of the dark soil you'd find during the rainy season, when the rich scent of the earth hangs in the air. It would be comforting if it weren't for your vulnerable state and the fact that you don’t know this man.

You shrivel inwardly as those dark eyes bore into you, and you feel like an item being cataloged, stored away in some sort of file. What exactly is he noting? Your mangled hair? Flighty eyes? Blood stained face and fingers? Tattered clothes? The list goes on.

The man clears his throat. You watch his Adam's Apple bob.

"Couldn't find any wounds on you," he says. Silver and brown facial hair moves as he speaks, sticking to his jaw and along his upper lip like fine snow. His hair is fluffy, you notice. More like a cloud that's heavy with rain, streaked with muted brown light as a sun sets.

He lifts a finger, pointing at you. You only stare with half of your body ready to bolt to the door—which you noticed in a very quick, terrified glance to your right. The rest of your body feels numb. Shocked into stillness by the cold.

"So I wanna know why you've got blood all over you."

There's an edge to his tone, something that tells you that he's a man who will get answers regardless of what steps he has to take to get them.

You swallow, but the minimal saliva in your mouth barely does anything to soothe the aching dryness of your throat. Opening your mouth, you flounder for a moment, before making a bold move.

"D-Do you have any water?"

You don't think that's what he expected from you, because the man regards you for a moment with creased brows. Then he sighs heavily through his nose, and you watch with bated breath as he leans to the side, rifling with one hand through a backpack that's slumped on the ground beside the rickety chair. You didn't even notice it before.

"Here," he mutters as he tosses a plastic bottle your way. You catch it with a sloshy thud, fingers quivering along the ridged material. You unscrew the cap and gulp down generous sips, feeling the cool liquid soothe your throat like a cold balm.

The man's brows furrow even deeper (they must be like that permanently).

"Easy, you'll make yourself puke."

His words register—sounding more concerned than you think they should be—and you slow down before pulling the now half-empty water bottle away from your bleeding mouth. Inhaling sharply, you speak quietly.

"Thank you."

He doesn't say anything else, simply looks at you like he's gauging your character. Are you a threat? Is there something you're hiding?

"Listen," he shifts, broad shoulders hunching forward as his elbows lean against his knees. "I found you out there in the snow—nearly frozen to death. You're gonna tell me why."

Your chest shudders with a broken breath, feeling fear prick behind your eyes. Those dark eyes are piercing through you, but you wonder what they might look like if you prove that you're innocent. Harmless—to an extent.

"I..." you breathe out, fingers picking at the wool blanket. Around you, the house holds its breath. "My group turned on me."

The man straightens a touch.

"They, um—" you glance around, feeling exposed, "they thought I was sabotaging the camp. So they...tried to kill me."

"Were you?"

The question throws you off. Your eyes snap up to the stranger, and he's already watching you.

"Were you sabotaging the camp?" he elaborates, brows raising. The gravel in his voice should make you afraid, but indignation burns in your belly, and you frown at him. The same anger and betrayal you felt barely ten hours ago rears its head.

"No," you grit out, "I wasn’t. The camp was failing because no one else was doing what they were supposed to—I was the only one putting in the effort—"

The man lifts a placating hand, nodding his head.

"Okay, okay," he assures, "relax."

He pauses, eyes flitting along the blood that's caked along your face. He juts his chin up, gesturing to the dried crimson stains.

"So that's not your blood."

You shake your head slowly, swallowing.

"No. It's not."

"So you killed someone."

"...I had to."

He nods, brushing his hand against his arched nose. A question lingers on your tongue, fighting against your sealed lips before you finally give in. 

“Why’d you bring me here?” 

There’s a long pause as the man flicks his dark gaze your way, combing along your face. For a moment, you think he might brush off the question.

He shrugs his shoulders. “It would’ve been like leaving behind a dying animal.”

“I’m sure you’ve done that before.” 

“Yeah, I have.” 

Silence stretches. The drip-drip-drip seems even louder than before, and your chest feels stiff with air that you've trapped in your lungs. Trepidation settles beneath your skin alongside the pain that continues to pulse through you.

The man breaks it with a gruff sigh. You watch with your heart throbbing against your ribs as he rubs his hand along his scratchy jaw. When he looks at you again, you see wariness etched into the fine lines along his eyes and forehead.

"Alright," he sighs, and you stiffen like a deer caught in headlights as he stands. He slings the rifle over one shoulder, before bending to pick up the backpack and haul it over the other.

He studies you, leaning more on his left leg than his right.

"I ain't gonna kill you. You seem like you're tellin' the truth, so I'm taking you back to Jackson."

"Jackson?"

"Yeah, it's a town up north. Protected, warm. Probably give you something better to do than die out in the cold."

Hope begins to brew inside your chest, but your hand moves to press against your sternum as if to smother it. Hope is a dangerous thing now. Often it leads to nothing.

“How can I trust you?” you ask, and you know that it's a dangerous question because his answer might not be what you want. 

“I saved your ass.” 

Yeah, okay. That works. 

"C'mon. Get up. But listen," he points a finger at you, and the ruff edge of his voice has your skin prickling. "If you try anything, I won't hesitate to kill you myself. Understand?"

Fear trickles into your stomach, but so does determination. You know you're not going to do anything—you're not that kind of person. But there's a darkness in his eyes that only comes when you follow through on your word, and when you've put a bullet between someone's eyes before. You know that look. You've seen it in your own reflection.

Nodding your head, you shift onto your feet, holding back a whine at the ache that blooms along your ribs and behind your eyes. The room sways, but your vision doesn't go black and your stomach doesn't heave. 

The man watches you steadily, before turning his back to swing open the door. Cold wind bursts into the house, so you make sure that the wool blanket remains cloaked around your shoulders. Your jacket barely does anything against the cold as it is.

You notice that the blizzard has calmed, though, but the snow rushes all the same. You follow behind the man, the first few steps slow and strained.

"What's your name?" you ask, feeling desperate to latch onto something that seems a little more normal—not that anything has been ‘normal’ in the last ten years. 

The man turns, eyes squinting against the snow and the wind that digs into his cheeks like needles.

"Joel," he answers after a moment. “Joel Miller.”

It seems fitting, you think. A name meant for a man that seems rough around the edges, just like the wooden boards that make up the house—the one you’re leaving behind. It sends dread spinning inside your stomach. 

Joel pulls up the collar of his jacket and glances at you. "Yours?"

You blink, pulled away from your racing thoughts that are only making your headache worse. You tug the wool blanket closer around your frame, and your name falls from your split lips. Joel nods and you don’t catch the way he says it quietly to himself, as if tasting it on his tongue.

"C'mon," he grumbles, before walking ahead into the snow. The blizzard tugs and pulls at his hair, painting it white with snow. The rifle along his back stares back at you and you swallow harshly. The wind pushes against you as you follow behind Joel, shoulders hunched against the chill. His footsteps leave behind deep holes in the snow, and you let your feet fall into them.

There's relief knowing that they're not stained with blood.

Thank you for reading, God bless <3

top divider credit: @/saradika-graphics © harbours-lighthouse 2025 / i do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated, or fed into ai. all works belong to me unless stated otherwise.

[moodymisty]

I find it hilarious that Robute can't be able to explain basic biology to his son, regarding his young child and breastfeeding. I want more!

Can we get another, where he is flustered over human biology and to make it even worse for him that Lady Guilliman is teasing him heavily over it.

Given the original was kind of a silly snippet, this one is going to be similar lol. Just something short and sweet.

"Perhaps you should give them a presentation," You say, and the way Guilliman looks at you afterwards could sear you to the metal of the chair like overcooked meat to a pan.

"You are getting too much joy out of this."

You are; The smile on your face nearly hurts as the slight tinge of pink to Guilliman's cheeks fades away. For a man of such intelligence and stoicism, his predicament has gotten to him. You shift a bit as your child naps in your arms, heavy enough that one of your hands is starting to go a bit numb.

This isn't the first time his men have inquired innocently about something that is anything but, and you're sure it won't be the last. The child of a primarch has apparently brought out much questioning, most of which don't have easy answers.

At least not easy answers that aren't also a bit, embarrassing to explain.

He'd only just finished detailing with you the horrendous experience he'd had with one of his men over having you come to feed his child, and you find it endlessly amusing. It's a bit of a relief to see him upset over matters much less consequential than his usual fare. He deserves just a moment.

You attempt to hold your expression as he laments about how he is going to deal with this, running through ideas of either giving them the bare minimum of information, or censoring the subject matter further. You would normally hold your tongue better and avoid irritating him when he's already on a thin edge, but you can't help it when he looks in your direction while processing his options. The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

"While you're at it, can you also explain to them why whenever you take a break I'm inexplicably on sabbatical for a few days after?"

Guilliman stares at you for a moment in surprise, before he combs a hand through his thin hair- at his wits end with you. He turns away and sighs.

"My father was right."

You raise your eyebrows, watching him as the child in your arms seems content enough to chew on their own hand while going in and out of sleep.

"About what?" You watch him lean on his elbows, putting his head into his hands and press his thumbs into his temples.

"Everything."

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Why such a strict no spoiler policy btw? It's not like it's gonna change whether or not people know the song and/or like it? Not complaining just curious for your reasoning

Because the point of this poll blog is to listen to the music with an open mind and no prejudice against the artist/song/genre/language/decade it's from etc, and just press like or dislike based on the song clip itself after actually have given it a listen. :) That's why the clip is so short, because if it appeals to you you'll be wanting to listen to the whole thing, if not, then at least you heard some of it and move on.

Also for people to have some whimsy in their lives. Poll #600 seems to have been a delightful surprise for many who didn't know what they pressed play for :D 💖

See it as me presenting you with a little gift, maybe not wrapped up in the prettiest way but you still get to unwrap it and discover the surprise by yourself. 🎁 Everybody likes unwrapping gifts :D

There are so many great music poll blogs out there on tumblr that lets you know straight away what it is. This one was created specifically just about listening to unnamed songs. Because the other option would be to just post a youtube vid/spotify link but it wouldn't appeal to me to make a poll blog just like that. Reading peoples thoughts and opinions about the song whether they know it or not is what makes this even more fun to keep up with. :) (even when the opinions from some of you are WRONG! 🤣 lol j/k)

Spoiling the songs here in reblogs takes away the curiosity/surprise/whimsy people might have about an unmarked little clip (and they might already have negative or positive feels about the song so why not just a youtube vid right away)

And lastly I get so sad to see spoilers because of all the time spent to actually do these polls. This blog does take a lot of time to keep up with, more than some of you might think. And just with making the polls themselves, getting the audio if i don't already have it, listen through the songs I might dislike to get a good clip, try to post it as audio, get frustrated when tumblr won't let me, turn it into a video, upload the video.....and then see people name it straight away is just... 😐 so, yeah. i see people bitching about me bitching about spoilers, but if passing on a little whimsy gift to others isn't your thing, there are other music blogs. :) 💖

[suzukiblu]

Excerpt from the one where Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it.

(The read-more is definitely necessary, length-wise. I . . . got very into this idea and frankly this is barely a third of it so far, lol.)

"So, uh . . ." Kon says, skeptically eyeing the softly glowing rock in his hand. Metallo, like, threw it at his head. He has no idea why. "Is this supposed to do something or . . . ?"

"It's pink," Kara says leerily, staying very firmly back. Like, unexpectedly far back, in fact.

"Yeah, I'm not actually blind, thanks," Kon says, turning the rock over and squinting at it. It continues not to do anything, aside from the glowing thing.

"No, it's pink kryptonite," she stresses.

". . . it literally doesn't hurt at all, though?" Kon says. Though he probably should've figured it was some kind of kryptonite, given that Metallo had it and had apparently thought he could hurt him with it.

Seriously, though, his gloves are fingerless and he's got it right in his hand. It should be hurting him, if it's actually kryptonite.

"Pink kryptonite doesn't work like that," Kara says, edging a little farther back. They're floating a few hundred feet in the air right now, but from the way she's acting Kon's vaguely concerned that he might be about to explode or something. "It just affects our sexual . . . urges."

"Oh," Kon says, frowning in confusion. Weird, but . . . "Is that all?"

"I don't mean like it makes you horny, Kon, I mean like it makes you homosexual," Kara hisses, looking mortified. "And don't ask how I know, alright?!"

Kon . . . blinks.

"What the literal fuck?" he asks incredulously, just staring at her. "How does that even–are you telling me Metallo went and chucked gay kryptonite at me in the middle of a fight?"

"Yes!" Kara says, still clearly mortified. "So just–just stay over there with it until somebody shows up with a lead box, okay?! The effects will stop after we get it contained."

"Alright, alright. So then do you think the dude was flirting with me or is he just a fucking idiot?" Kon jokes, balancing the kryptonite on his index finger with his TTK. "Although I really don't think he'd be my type either way. Like, nothing against cyborgs in general, obviously, just the whole thing with him being a murderous supervillain who literally runs on kryptonite seems like it'd make us totally star-crossed. I want somebody I can actually commit to, you know?"

"Sure," Kara says, still eyeing the kryptonite with serious trepidation. It's really not helping Kon feel less like a time bomb, to be honest. Is there like some other side effect that he should be worrying about right now or something? Like, is he missing something here?

"You seem kinda high-strung about this," he observes, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Look, you'd have avoided it too if you'd dealt with it before!" she says protestingly. "So stay over there and definitely keep it away from Kal, I don't know if Jimmy ever really recovered from the last time."

"Oh, well, congrats to Jimmy, I guess," Kon says, since he can't really see a downside to scoring a one-night stand with Superman. Like, a downside for somebody who isn't literally his clone, he means. The clone thing would definitely make it weird.

Just it's also Clark, though, so he'd probably be the generous type in bed. Like, the sort to really take care of somebody. Be as gentle as happened to be appropriate but also be down if his partner maybe wanted it a little rough for whatever reason. And he'd definitely be able to go all night. Again, Kon isn't gonna go there himself, it really would be too weird, but he can make a logical conclusion. Extrapolate one. Whatever.

Then again he'd be down with Power Girl absolutely destroying him whenever the fuck she wanted to and she's genetically his . . . some form of cousin or something, he guesses. His half-cousin from another reality. So really, Clark's not even that weird an option. And like, all appearances aside Kon's a binary clone anyway, not even a one-for-one match, sooooo . . .

Actually it's probably weirder that he thinks Power Girl is so unspeakably hot but comparatively Kara is just . . . fine? Like, that's a little odd, isn't it?

Maybe it's an attitude thing. Or the costume.

Might be safe to blame the costume, yeah.

It's just such a good costume. Like, Kon aspires to reach that level of costume.

But really, all that aside he still doesn't even know what the big deal about temporarily going gay is, although to be fair he's also currently talking to Supergirl and not, like . . . literally any dude whatsoever. So like, who knows how weird this stuff might actually make him under those circumstances. Maybe it like fucks with inhibitions and stuff too?

Yeah, hell if he knows. He's really only dealt with green kryptonite before. He was vaguely aware that other colors existed and apparently did different stuff, but . . . this just seems very different, put it that way.

Maybe best to avoid Jimmy Olsen for a little while, Kon decides privately. The guy probably doesn't need that.

Besides, Clark apparently got there first anyway and Kon just really doesn't want to be worrying about measuring up. Miss him with that, thanks.

. . . although maybe he'll go visit Tim later.

Eh, no, Kara made it sound like the pink K's gonna stop affecting him pretty quick once they box it up, so not much point in bothering. Though maybe he'll visit just to hang, come to think of it; they haven't seen each other in almost a whole week. Well, he hasn't seen Tim, at least��who knows how much Bat-surveillance Tim's seen him through.

Kon should maybe sweep his room for bugs again. Note to self.

Although would it be weird to just like . . . keep the pink kryptonite, maybe? Since it apparently doesn't actually hurt anyone or anything? Because that could be, well . . . just interesting, that's all. Like, Kon is open to exploring that experience. Just–as an experience.

"Actually, you're surprisingly not high-strung about this," Kara says.

"Am I?" Kon asks. "I mean, it's not that big a deal, is it?"

She stares at him.

"Kon," she says slowly. "Pink kryptonite affects your sexuality. It makes you attracted to people you're not normally attracted to. It confuses you and everyone around you and it is really freaking embarrassing to explain afterwards."

"I've been mind-controlled into shaving my head and breaking my best friend's arm," Kon says, continuing to not really see what the big deal is. "That was embarrassing. And fucking traumatic. This? This is just kinda weird."

"Only kinda?" Kara asks incredulously. "You're one of the straightest guys I know! How are you just fine with this?!"

"I mean to be fair, that's probably making some unfair generalizations about straight guys," Kon points out. Kara stares at him. "What?"

"I don't even know how to respond to that," she says.

"Sorry?" Kon says, then tucks the pink kryptonite into his jacket pocket with a shrug. He's not trying to hide it or anything; just getting kinda sick of holding it. And it's that or he either ditches it somewhere or starts tossing it around and that'd probably be . . . just, well, absolutely epically stupid of him.

Or it seems like it would be, anyway. Whatever color it is, it's still kryptonite.

"I mentioned keeping that away from Kal, right?" Kara says.

"Yeah, on that note, are they like . . . done down there yet?" Kon asks, glancing down towards the mess of the street that Clark's standing on a few hundred feet below with a whole bunch of randos from S.T.A.R. Labs, for some reason. Somebody mentioned something about neutralizing Metallo's kryptonite heart without actually killing him, but mostly it was science talk and clearly theoretical anyway so to be honest Kon'd kinda tuned it all out as "not currently relevant", and that's all he knows.

"Definitely not," Kara says.

"I'm gonna call Robin while we're killing time, then," Kon says, pulling out his phone.

"You're going to call your closest male friend," Kara says. "Right now. While you've got pink kryptonite in your pocket."

"Yup," Kon says, already pulling up Tim's contact.

"Can you not see how that might be a bad idea at the moment?" Kara asks. "Not in any way whatsoever?"

"Well I'm not calling Impulse," Kon replies reasonably. Kara stares at him again, for some reason.

Eh, whatever.

He calls Tim.

"Hey, Conner, what's up?" Tim answers distractedly, which Kon doesn't hold against him because when isn't Tim distracted, really. Dude's got too much going on in that head of his, for real. He's just glad the guy ever picks up the phone at all.

"So apparently I'm gay right now," Kon greets conversationally, figuring he should lead with that just in case he actually is about to do something embarrassing to explain. "Pink kryptonite is fucking weird, man."

". . . uh," Tim says as Kara covers her face with her hands. "What?"

"Pink kryptonite makes you gay, Kara says," Kon says. "And we're both just kind of chilling above downtown Metropolis waiting for Kal to finish up with the science-y people so we can get said pink K locked up, so I'm bored out of my mind right now and calling you to complain about it."

"You're calling me," Tim says slowly. "While you're . . . gay."

"What, is he asking to come over?" another voice asks from the phone, sounding amused. It takes Kon a second to recognize it, but–oh yeah, that's the mysterious Bernard, isn't it?

Right, Tim has a boyfriend now. Kon's never actually met him on account of being the worst at secret identities and the whole thing that is Bernard living very firmly in Gotham, land of "no metas allowed unless you're either a supervillain or Batman's too dead to stop you", but he's heard him over the phone a couple times now, although they've never actually personally talked. So maybe thinking about Tim while being high on pink kryptonite isn't actually, like, kosher? Or polite. Or whatever.

. . . then again, Bernard did ask.

"I don't know, maybe?" Kon says thoughtfully, considering the idea. "Are you open to me coming over?"

"Yes," Bernard says.

"Bernard," Tim says.

"Babe, I know we're pretending I don't know you're an ass-kicking vigilante and all but come on, don't make me turn down Superboy," Bernard says wryly.

"We're–wait, pretending?!" Tim sputters.

"Pretending so, so hard," Bernard confirms, sounding nothing but fond. Kon's actually a little jealous of that tone of voice, he's gotta admit. Like–it's been a bit since anybody's talked to him that way, is all. "But like, if you actually thought you were being subtle maybe you shouldn't talk about kryptonite on the phone right in front of me or put themed emojis next to all your superfriends' civilian names in your contacts list?"

"Oh my god, you do that?!" Kon asks with a gleeful cackle, immediately forgetting everything else in favor of that absolutely delightful piece of information. "You're the worst! Batman just rolled over in his grave and Oracle is absolutely losing her shit on the other end of her wiretap!"

"B's not even dead right now," Tim says in exasperation. "And if O cared she'd have already hacked my phone and changed them. And for the record plenty of people put random superhero emojis next to their friends' names, that's a totally normal thing to do!"

"Usually the random superhero emojis aren't associated with contact pics that are dead fucking ringers for said superheroes," Bernard says, sounding amused again. "Just as a thing and all."

". . . anyway so you're gay today, how's that going for you, Conner?" Tim says as Bernard laughs gleefully in the background. "Triggering any unfortunate mental health crisises or anything? Making you worry about the validity of your masculinity? Because I can safely assure you that's all bullshit and you're fine."

"Naw, I know all that, being gay is just a thing," Kon says with a shrug. "Kara's being a little weird about it but honestly it's going way better than, like, the times supervillains mind-controlled me into being into them. Like just as an overall experience, I mean."

"Wait, how many times has that come up?" Tim asks in bemusement.

"I dunno?" Kon shrugs again. "I mean you were there for the Poison Ivy incident, and then Gorgeous Gilly happened to me a while later, which was, uh, genuinely horrifying because she tried to literally marry me during all that, so . . . I think just the twice, probably? But don't quote me on that, I don't even remember what I had for breakfast."

"And how is Kara being weird, exactly?" Tim says in his very unsubtle "assessing my teammate's psychological condition" voice.

"Oh, she's mostly just avoiding me?" Kon says, as a guy who's personally not really all that concerned with his psychological condition at the moment. "Because I've got the rock in my pocket on account of not wanting to just leave it lying around somewhere and she doesn't want to get affected by it. I don't know why, I don't really get why it matters."

"I mean it matters, definitely," Bernard says. "Like it very strongly matters to a lot of people."

"Fair, but I think we're all too invulnerable to really have to worry about getting gay-bashed or anything," Kon reasons. "Like, at least not as a heat of the moment thing."

". . . god can you imagine the world we would live in if every piece of shit gay-basher had to deal with the consequences of punching fucking Superman?" Bernard says feelingly. "For real."

"Oh, pink K's temporary," Kon clarifies. "Kal's not gay anymore."

"Hold up, I'm sorry, are you saying that at some point he was?" Bernard demands in obvious delight. "Is that what you're telling me right now?"

"I guess he was into redheads?" Kon says, tilting his head. "Slightly twinky redheads, specifically. Which I don't blame him for, I'm gonna be honest."

"Well now I know that forever, thanks," Tim says dryly.

"Alternate option: he could've been into Batman," Kon points out.

"Redheads it is," Tim says. "You just . . . redhead away over there."

"I mean I thought about it, kinda," Kon admits.

"Ngh," Tim says, for some reason.

"No thinking about Batman, though?" Bernard asks with a snicker.

"Not so much," Kon says, making a face. "Did consider having some Superman thoughts but I'm apparently not that narcissistic, surprisingly enough."

"Kon!" Kara chokes.

"Tell me you've never considered having Superman thoughts and I'll tell you you're a fucking liar," Kon snorts, shooting her a dry look. "Weren't you like totally naked when you first showed up on Earth? And then he found you like that and wrapped you up in his cape all nice and gentlemanly and took you home with him?"

"He is my baby cousin and you're being affected by pink kryptonite poisoning!" Kara accuses, her face bright red.

"Wait, is it actually poisoning me?" Kon says with a frown. "I feel like you should've led with it actually poisoning me, if that's actually a thing."

"Well no, not actually, it's physically harmless," Kara says grudgingly, folding her arms. "But you're still being affected! You're having Superman thoughts, of all things!"

"He just seems like he'd be considerate," Kon says reasonably. "Like, you know. Biblically."

"Ngh," Tim says, again for no apparent reason. Bernard sounds like he might be laughing. Or choking? Or maybe both; it's unclear.

"Please don't hit on Kal," Kara says. "Especially don't hit on Kal with pink kryptonite in your pocket. I don't want to know how that situation would end up."

"Ideally with him being considerate," Kon says. Tim chokes. Kara covers her face again.

"Does pink kryptonite affect your inhibitions too or are you just always like this?" Bernard asks curiously.

"Eh, pretty sure I'm just always like this, going by the things I've definitely still not been forgiven for saying to Power Girl," Kon says, idly tapping a finger against the side of his phone case. "Like, pretty damn sure at this point."

"That is unfortunately accurate," Tim agrees resignedly.

"So you're saying it is ethically okay to have Superboy over while he's gay," Bernard says in a promisingly speculative tone. Kon grins. Just a little, but yeah–definitely he grins. Kara grimaces, because she is absolutely no fun whatsoever.

Spoilsport.

"I did not in any way say that," Tim retorts dubiously.

"I mean that's what I heard, man, and I'm the one with super-hearing in this conversation," Kon says with a wider grin. "My inhibitions are all inhibited and my personal opinions of people are all the same, I'm just currently batting for the other team."

"So your normal opinion of me is that if you were gay, you'd come over," Tim says dryly.

"Yeah?" Kon says, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, obviously."

"How is that obvious?" Tim says.

"Because I already come over every time you let me," Kon reminds him.

"Oh yeah?" Bernard says slyly. "And how often does he let you come, exactly?"

"Not often enough," Kon replies honestly, and doesn't even bite at the obvious dumb sex joke Bernard so thoughtfully set up for him even though it is frankly painful not to.

"Ngh," Tim says. Kon continues not to understand the reason for him repeatedly making that same weird little noise, but whatever, he guesses. It's Tim, maybe he's stitching his own bullet wounds again or something. Guy's a multi-tasker like that.

"You know this would probably make for a fascinating case study about sexuality, actually," Bernard says musingly. "I mean, all I intend to do is abuse the situation to get into your very tight tights, but seriously, maybe we should all be taking notes or something."

"Ugh, hell no, Rob'll go full Bat if we let him do that," Kon snorts, then smirks. "He can take pictures, though, I know he's into that."

"Ngh," Tim says yet again, accompanied by a weird random "thump". If Kon didn't know better, he'd think he'd just fallen off a chair or something.

"Aw dammit, dude, I think I actually like you as a person now," Bernard says, sniggering. "Are you keeping the kryptonite? Please keep the kryptonite. Like, just for Valentine's and Tim's birthday, that's all I ask."

"Honestly don't know if Superman's gonna let me but I do kinda wanna," Kon admits. It seems pretty convenient, really. And definitely fun.

". . . and you're sure his inhibitions and opinions aren't being influenced in any way, Kara?" Tim asks suspiciously.

"He's really just like this, yeah," Kara says resignedly. "Well admittedly Kal spontaneously developed opinions on window treatments and used the word 'smashing' in cold blood when it happened to him, but that might've just been him sucking at flirting. Because he really does suck at flirting."

"What about when it was you?" Kon asks curiously.

"No one ever said it happened to me," Kara says.

"You kinda implied–"

"No one ever said it happened to me," Kara repeats, narrowing her eyes at him and doing an impressively bad job of acting like she's not blushing.

So it definitely happened to her, yeah.

"Okaaaaay, we'll pretend about that too then," Bernard says. "Well, what are your opinions on window treatments, Conner?"

"That I don't know what they are," Kon says.

"Sounds like he's in his right mind to me," Bernard says.

"He is absolutely not," Kara retorts dubiously.

"I really don't feel weird or anything, I swear," Kon tells her, since he still doesn't get the problem but also doesn't actually want to worry her either. "I don't even feel any different."

"Kon, you are hitting on your best friend and his boyfriend," Kara says. "Together. At once. Simultaneously, one might even say."

"You've met Wonder Girl and Arrowette before, right?" Kon says. "And both the Batgirls? And–"

"Oh my god, Kon," she cuts him off.

"Just saying," he says, then pauses for a moment and frowns consideringly. "Actually, question, how gay is this stuff making me, because while we're on the topic of threeways I kinda always wondered about what Starfire and Nightwing get up to together and if–"

"KON!" Kara yells, covering her ears.

"I'm just asking," he huffs.

"I don't know if it's actually possible to be gay enough to not be into Starfire," Bernard says musingly. "Like I can't imagine how it ever could be."

"Right?" Kon says.

"It's possible to not be into Starfire," Tim says. "Like, theoretically. Asexuals and aromantics both exist, for one."

"Do they?" Kon says doubtfully. "Like in general, sure, but when around specifically Starfire?"

". . . I can't technically prove you wrong due to a lack of reliable evidence but still," Tim says. "The possibility is there. If nothing else the multiverse is a thing."

"Last time I saw her she was wearing half a gold lamé bikini and I am not going to tell you which half or define how loosely I am using the term 'wearing'," Kon says.

"I said it's possible, not probable," Tim says.

"What about you, man, are you the gold lamé type?" Bernard asks with a teasing snicker. "Just while you're gay and all, of course. That's like, practically a cultural thing. Gotta be authentic to the experience, yeah?"

"That is in no way whatsoever a cultural thing, babe," Tim says dubiously.

"Please, like I've never worn freaking lamé," Kon scoffs. "I've worn collars and loincloths and leather and crop tops and enough unnecessary belts to tie up a Bat, lamé is nothing."

"Collars and . . . loincloths?" Bernard repeats, sounding confused.

"Yeah, this one time I crash-landed on a lost isle of beast-men and they kidnapped and enslaved me for a few months," Kon explains, waving a hand distractedly. "Frankly I count myself lucky they even let me have the collar, much less the loincloth."

". . . um," Bernard says.

"You, uh, never mentioned the collar part of that story before, Kon," Tim says, clearing his throat. "You very definitely never mentioned the collar part of that story before."

"Oh yeah, the prince kinda kept me as his pet for a little bit?" Kon tells him with an easy shrug. "Like he and all his buddies ganged up on me and then took me home with them, but I was kinda . . . feral, I guess? Technically? So like, collar and chain setup. But he was cool, he took real good care of me."

"Ngh," Tim says just barely faintly.

"Yeah you should definitely come over," Bernard says. "Tim, get the check. Conner, exactly how super is your super-speed?"

"You can just call me Kon," Kon says. "And . . . mach 3, last I clocked it?"

"Isn't that like two thousand miles per hour?" Bernard asks.

"Two thousand two hundred and twenty-three point three," Kon replies with a pleased smirk. "Faster than a speeding bullet. Or so they tell me."

"We'll just meet you at Tim's, how's that," Bernard says. "That work for you, Kon?"

"That works for me, Bernard," Kon confirms, smirking wider.

"Oh my god, Kon, you cannot possibly be serious right now," Kara says in exasperation, rubbing at her temples. "Just because you're temporarily gay doesn't mean you should do anything about it!"

"I mean, I'm feeling pretty serious?" Kon says, shrugging again. He still doesn't get why she's being so sensitive about this. "It's not like this is the weirdest thing I've ever done in pursuit of a good time. Like, holy hell, lemme tell you about the Ravers sometime."

"You're going to have to look Robin in the eye after this!" Kara says. "And work with him! And be a normal person in his presence! Normally!"

"I'm aware?" Kon says, vaguely bemused by her concern. Like he's never been normal around somebody he's slept with before, geez. "Tell Kal I ran off with the pink K, if he wants to lock it up in the Fortress or wherever I can bring it back tomorrow."

"Maybe Monday," Bernard says.

"Or maybe Monday," Kon amends.

"It's Thursday!" Kara sputters.

"So it's a long weekend," Bernard says.

"I'm not explaining this to Kal," Kara says. "I'm not explaining this to Batman."

"I really don't see why you'd have to," Kon says. "Rob, you cool with the long weekend thing? Not too much of an imposition?"

". . . I got the check," Tim mutters in obvious and absolute mortification.

Kon's gonna take that as a "yes".

"Cool," he says, grinning broadly. "See you soon, Boy Wonder."

He ends the call. Kara drags her hands down her face and continues to stay very far away from him and the pink kryptonite in his pocket.

"When you go back to normal and freak out and make everything weird with Robin and your team and even Robin's literal boyfriend, I'm going to say so many 'I told you so's," she swears vehemently. "So don't say I didn't warn you."

"Your objection is on the record," Kon says, then tosses her a lazy salute with another grin and takes off, kryptonite and all.

Best to just scarper while Clark's distracted, yeah?

Definitely best.

[normal-thoughts-official]

it always struck me as kind of hilarious that you have to pass a 30DC check to convince shadowheart not to kill dame aylin but if you're just like "sure do whatever lol" she chooses not to kill her anyway. tsundere ass fuck. killing is bad unless it's out of spite. i have morals unless you try to tell me what to do

but i just got to that scene in my new replay and it made me realize that that's not what's at stake at all

because the persuasion check isn't "don't do this". the persuasion check is, your life is whatever you make of it. you don't have to do something just because your goddess tells you to.

convincing shadowheart not to kill dame aylin is easy. she knows it's wrong, and she doesn't want to, not really. if given the choice, she is literally unable to go through with it even if she clearly wants to, or wants to want to so badly she can't tell the difference

the problem is convincing her she has an option in the first place

the problem is convincing her that her life is her own

shadowheart has never belonged to herself since she was captured. not in body, not in soul, not in mind, not even her memories. she quite literally doesn't know who she is in more ways than one. she doesn't know her past or her family, she doesn't know who her loved ones are (including the sharran loved ones, like nocturne), all she really knows about herself is a fear of wolves that's been implanted into her by lies and an attachment to a flower she can't remember the details of. and a mission. always a mission. the will of someone else she has to carry on, that is not for her to understand or question or think about. she can't even want to serve shar, because she isn't allowed to pursue her intention to become a dark justiciar. she is supposed to be well and truly nothing, empty as the sharran doctrine

(oh, and pain that she doesn't know the reason of. no matter what, she must bear the pain)

how can she see herself as more than her goddess, when she quite literally doesn't know anything about who she is other than her devotion to shar? how can she choose her own destiny, when she couldn't even choose how to devote and give herself over to her?

she can't, which is why, unless you have infinite rizz points and/or roll a nat20, shadowheart attacks you. not dame aylin. you. and she never argues about whether or not it's the right thing, because she knows. what she's rebelling against isn't the idea of letting dame aylin go. what she's rebelling against is the idea that she could leave her cage and belong to no one but herself. because the idea is scary and she quite literally doesn't know where to begin. which is why her obsession becomes to find her parents, even though she doesn't remember them at all. because maybe they can tell her who she's supposed to be, and she can have the comfort of having her path laid out before her again

(which is also why she has to kill them. not because of some hand hurty curse bullshit. but because she just wants them and selûne to become the new shar, and she has to let that go if she truly means to claim herself again)

and now im sad. because it's easier for shadowheart to do turn against shar and everything she's ever had on the grounds of saving someone else than on the grounds that she deserves better than to be a puppet. even if you do nothing, saving dame aylin, to her, is easy. saving herself is a wholly different matter, one she's not sure she has any right to, or wants to, even if it's what she really needs. accepting a selûnite's humanity is easier than accepting her own. losing everything is easier than gaining her own autonomy. and she will fight tooth and nail to be allowed to stay in her own, metaphorical soul cage

[sandflakedraws]

Okay I’m not even into trolls or anything, but that height analysis was pretty cool and interesting lol

Any more things you analyzed? (Or even a fun fact, idk, just wanna see people talk about things they like)

i've analyzed quite a lot but one thing i haven't seen other folks fully explore is the horrific living conditions in that bottle.

i know why it's not covered in film, cause again, this story is a silly musical comedy for kids! and if it were given it's full appraisal, the tone of the movie would be absolutely shot.

...

but like,,,, it's so dang bad in there my dude. it's SO bad.

like, in it's upright position, the diamond's base isn't big enough for floyd to lay down on, without cricking his neck severely.

so even when we see him drifting to sleep, he's sitting. minimum 2 months of trying to sleep sitting up. (against a cold/hard surface no less)

(he's also got an instant-wake response to . someone lightly tapping on the door. . .)

oh and also! the air in there has gotta be super thin, as there is but a single breathing hole at the top of it, not even as wide as a troll finger.

and that's ! when it's not capped off ! most of the time, it's got the spritz cap on, making it even harder for any air to circulate in there.

while we're at it ; since that's the only opening (no clasps, no grooves, no visual indicators that it can open via any other method at all, hence the film's conceit that the brothers need to hit the PFH to free him), i'm inclined to believe that it's also the only way to get food to him...

... which is to say you can have your pick of many terrible options for that. whether velvet & veneer tried to mash something through there, or have him sip from the world's worst gerbil feeder,

or they just. didn't feed him at all. and he's only alive because it's a magic world.

wHICH IS STILL SAYING NOTHING ABOUT HOW THEY ACTUALLY HANDLE HIM

plugging those excerpts cause. y. yeah... they're not gentle with him at all. bro is Bruised to all hell.

.... and none of this has to do with the actual core threat in the movie, which is having his core forcefully ripped from his body, leading to the whiteness and crystallization we see goin on.

in conclusion i need way more art/fics covering floyd's recovery okay? okay.

[primreaperstuff]

Trying to figure out what's under the Jhesselbraum crossed out text in the Book of Bill

Dunno if anybody's done this before but I figured I'd give it a shot. This is the original image.

I first went and found the font used for this. I think it's DIN Condensed Bold. This font unfortunately costs money to get onto your computer, but it is included with Adobe Suite software so if you have Photoshop or are silly like me and used Illustrator, you can access it (I know Illustrator isn't great for this stuff but I generally use GIMP and didn't feel like installing Photoshop for this one thing).

And this is the image with the letters I can figure out.

If I got this right, there are a couple of things in here that are huge.

Bill thinks (or at least thought) very highly of Jhess. He describes her as the smartest Henchmaniac. Depending on how you interpret that comment about the eyes, he either let her into the group despite not liking how many eyes she has or has sour grapes about her leaving.

Jhess did a ton of the heavy lifting for the portal project. Bill is often presumed to simply have the multiversal know-how for a lot of the physics and stuff behind the portal, but this implies that Jhess was actually the first one to figure much of this stuff out and Bill went off of what she told him.

I also want to draw your attention to a tiny detail I noticed in the name Bill gives her. It's so small that it might just be me just seeing a pattern where none exists, but I thought it worth mentioning anyway.

My first thought was, obviously, that the name given was "JESS." The first two letters are clearly J and E and the character is called Jheselbraum so that would track. But then I noticed this tiny squarish region that does not line up with how the red pen's stroke normally tapers off and is slightly whiter than the pen. It is exactly where another letter would be... and it does not line up with DIN's capital S! The capital letters in DIN that it lines up with are B, D, E, F, H, I, L, M, N, P, R, and T. The name looks like it cannot exceed 5 characters given the position of the pen stroke.

In terms of plausible names in there, these are the options:

Jeb

Jed/Jedi

Jet/Jett/Jete

Jeff

Jerry

Jerk (lol)

Jelly

Jem

Jen/Jenn

The majority of the plausible names, as you can tell, are either masculine or ungendered. Which makes me wonder-- is Jheselbraum the Unswerving trans??

Because that implies a lot. For one, I have to question why Bill is deadnaming her in that case. Is it to be hurtful or did he just legitimately never figure it out? She went on the run from him so it's likely she never updated him on her live-name. (And I mean, let's face it, "Jheselbraum" is not that far off from some of the live-names trans people choose for themselves. You guys are reviving antiquated names one transition at a time. \pos)

He also speaks rather admiringly of her, which would be odd if he was trying to insult her with her deadname, so I think it's really highlighting how little Bill actually knows-- and might underlie the real reason he crossed it out. He literally just found out she transitioned and he doesn't even know her live-name. Really undermines the whole "unlimited being with knowledge and answers" thing he claims about himself.

It would also explain what drew her to Bill in the first place. Bill already believes in 14 million genders, and he was offering to smash all the norms and rules. What have norms and rules ever done for the trans community? Seldom anything good is my impression.

Hell, maybe she wound up doing her own sex change surgery, because nobody else would do it for her, and that's why she has the skills to install a metal plate in Ford's head. (Pure speculation of course)

Or maybe I'm just overthinking a print error or false pattern or something! Who knows?

Anyway, I thought this was interesting enough to share. Not important my tailbone lol.

[kingdoms-and-empires]

Hello there! I want to say, I LOVE your story! Fantastic world, fantastic characters, and plot. I can't wait for more (please, give us plebs some food! I mean more chapters and updates.) And by the way, I am happy to hear you are back on your feet. I noticed something in the RO options: Why does the M!MC have 1 Gay romance and the F!MC 1 Lesbian and 1 Bi? Don't you think that is a bit limiting? Is there a narrative reason? Thank you, and I wish you the best. :D Good Day!

It's supposed to be a surprise, but since im close to releasing the public update... in the Great Rewrite, all the ROs are playersexual now. They're open to be romanced no matter what!

Im telling you since your words made me smile <3 and cause i cant hold it in anymore!

I'm aiming for a more grounded romantasy feeling for KaE since romance will be very important to the story. Especially the whole potential-

-problems that'll happen once a certain point is reached.

(I recently rewatched the Revenge of the Sith in the recent rerun lmao)

I've always thought of my work as being inspired by

Homeric Epics (i was always a fan of Greek and Roman myths and stuff since i was young.)

Nordic Sagas but mostly Beowulf (only got into them cause of Vikings the show lololol, but I found myself increasingly engrossed by the Sagas)

Romance of the Three Kingdoms (Dynasty Warriors 4: Empires on the Xbox 360 introduced me to the series and ive been in love since lol)

And because of the above, the game series Nobunaga's Ambition.

Plus isekai and reincarnation manga/anime in general!

I feel like what makes worlds and stories interesting isn't the worldbuilding (though that helps alot, and is without a doubt my crutch atm) but the human emotions that can cause characters to act out, crash out, and do the things they do that can throw a wrench in any well-laid plan.

The new version is far more character driven than before as a result, and I love it. And what's more emotional than love?

The geopolitics, intrigue, war, kingdom building, and the rest of what makes KaE KaE is remaining, of course! Hell, I'd say there's even MORE now, as some of my Patreons would most likely agree with.

It's just that romance is being elevated to be more important to me.

I made this decision a while back because I felt the narrative and restrictive reasons of before no longer hold up with the rewrite changes I made to the world and story.

Cause I changed ALOT.

And we never really even met a majority of the ROs in previous versions so... it's not like im doing something like changing characters yall know and romanced lol, which btw, is ironically a bonus with all the rewrites and time ive taken to find my bearings with this story ;-;

Who helped me reach this decision a while back?

Why...

@when-life-gives-you-lemons-if thank you for putting up with me!!!!!

@leiatalon also helped me reach this decision (also thanks for putting up with me)!!!!!

Both are published authors with multiple titles below their belt that focus on romance, so they definitely had my rapt attention. They were especially kind enough to share their experiences and some advice when it comes to that area with me, and its thanks to their encouragement that I felt this was the right decision.

Please, check out their Tumblr blogs and look at the games they've released! They might interest you!!

What may also interest you?

You can actually see all the progress reports ive given on Patreon! They're free, and you can start from oldest to newest. Plus other articles that detail what im adding to the new version that's soon to release to the public. After all, this upcoming update is the last one that ends our childhood! And it'll be the one that finally makes it so everyone of you can read what I've worked on.

Once my Patreons test out the epilogue for the arc and give me the all clear, the public will get it!

That's all from me for now. Im still busy at work with the epilogue!

[d33pd3sire-blog]

Two Options. An Emily Prentiss x Reader fanfic.

Happy Emily Prentiss death day! Isn't it weird the day I get the urge to write an angsty Emily pic is the day she faked her death? Any who, hope you enjoy. I wrote this with no plot in mind when I started it so if it doesn't read cohesively then that's probably why lol.

Summary: You get jealous of Emily but not in the funny har har way, in the I'm in love with this woman and I can never tell a soul and now i'm annoyed way. No use of y/n, written with afab in mind.

Word count: 909

Cigarette in hand, you sit on the bench of your balcony watching the sun slowly rise on the horizon. The image normally would make you smile, the swirls of colour dancing with the morning clouds, but not today. Not after tonight. You grit your teeth as your brain replays the events and happenings that drew you to this moment, attempting to exhale unwanted memories alongside smoke. It seldom works, of course.

The team have gathered at the local bar to celebrate the case they had been working on finally coming to an end, Emily ordering the next round of drinks. Your gaze flickered to where she stood, watching as a man, a very attractive man, stalked towards her. If you had any, the hackles on the back of your neck would be flaring. Who is this guy? Your face fell as you saw Emily laughing, actually laughing at what this neanderthal had to say.

"Are you listening?" Penelope nudges your side, snapping you out of the animal planet documentary you were just witnessing. If you had carried on you probably would've heard David Attenborough narrating in the background. 'The male, seeing what he believes to be a likely candidate for his mate, approaches the female.'

"What?" You turned to Penelope, your brows furrowed slightly. "What were you even looking at?" She turned and she nodded slowly. "Gotcha." She smirked at you, the way Garcia does when she figures something out. You roll your eyes, lifting the almost empty glass in front of you to your lips and sipping until it gurgles. "I was just looking to see if she needed help that's all." Garcia smirks at you, holding in a laugh. "Of course you were."

You brushed her off, as Emily walked over with drinks in hand. "Guys, this is Brad our little helper." She grinned as she placed the drinks on the table, taking the excess drinks from Brad's hands and giving them out to whoever wanted one. "I wouldn't say 'little' helper." Brad grinned and chose this time to flex his biceps, making almost everyone laugh. Everyone except for you and Derek. "How much do you bench?" Once Derek started with the gym questions you zoned out, sipping on your drink.

The night carried on and so did the alcohol in your system. The majority of the group had found their way to the dance floor, you included. You used this time to forget about Emily, the music drowning out most of your thoughts about her. That was until your eyes found Emilys as she danced with Brad, she didn't look away and neither did you. There was a look in her eyes you couldn't quite decipher, you put it down to the dimmed lights and the shot of whatever it was that Garcia had given out a few minutes earlier. That was until Emily turned from you to Brad, pulling him in for a kiss. His hands roaming her body made your skin crawl.

That was when everything caught up to you, Emily, Brad, Garcia's smug look, the alcohol - oh god the alcohol. Your stomach gurgled as you pushed your way through everyone on the dance floor, making your way to the bathroom. You just about made it in time before everything you had drunk in the last few hours came hurtling out of you. And yes, alcohol does taste the same coming up as it does going down.

It took a few minutes for you to realise someone was holding your hair back and rubbing your back. As your hearing stopped ringing, you heard Emily - 'it's okay, get it all out." Luckily she couldn't see your face scrunch in embarrassment, you slowly get up after the nausea subsides. You had to grab Emilys shoulder for balance, her hands finding your waist. "Let's get you home."

Little did you know, Emily would stay. She made some excuse about it being late and you have a perfectly good sofa calling her name. It wasn't long before you had both said your goodnights and gone to bed. You couldn't sleep though, not when Emily was in the next room. Not when the image of Emily being touched by some guy in the ways she wanted to touch her instead haunted her mind.

You exhaled another breath of smoke, jumping slightly when the door clicks shut. Emily stood before you, her face awash with that same look you couldn't decipher before. "A cigarette huh? Must be bad." Her face unchanged. You didn't know what to say, usually you'd smile and say something to downplay whatever was occupying your mind but it had been a long night. Your energy depleted, you were dehydrated and you had just witnessed the woman you had been yearning for smacking lips with some inbred nobody. You sigh. "Look, I don't have the energy to pretend nothings wrong so either we sit out here in silence or you can go back inside." You hold the packet of cigarettes up to where Emily was standing, giving her the choice. "Those are the only options?" Emily whispered, frowning slightly. Without a beat you replied, "those are the only options." It took a few seconds before Emily took the packet from you and sat down. You couldn't bear to look at her, at that face. You heard the lighter flicker and her inhale, a confirmation that both of you would be spending the rest of the morning in silence.

[neoninky]

Diasomnia Courtship Headcanons 2.0

I was digging around some old files as I clean up my Diasomnia canon x oc fic for its revival and I found this old post that still makes me laugh. So here's some serotonin for all the Diasomnia lovers out there. I did brush it up a bit as well cuz why not.

Diasomnia lovers supreme and general super rad people: @nuitthegoddess @hanafubukki @masquerade-of-misery @foxwitchaine @aquaburst3 @wysteriadelights @thosebrookfieldgirls

*puts on some Bridgerton/Jane Austen film sounding music to set the mood*

The Diasomnia fam got their happy ending at long last but wait - there's more! Now the boys enter their Twitterpatted Smitten Boi eras *flowers and sparkly bubbles all over the place*

Featuring Lilia’s two sons and their aggressively loyal neighbor/cousin (I may or may not be using these inspirations as I write the boys in my Diasomnia canon x oc reboot *suspiciously sipped tea*)

Malleus: The prince and soon-to-be king of Briar Valley; he is naturally expected to find himself a queen and future mother to his heirs. So courtship isn't something that comes as a surprise to him. In fact, it's something he was prepared for since he became old enough to understand what courtship and marriage even were.

For Malleus, this can go one of two ways: 1) if he's being forced to meet and court a some daughter of a noble family that he's not interested in, he'll be…avoidant. In other words, he out (Malleus just poofs away in firefly dust). This man could have a whole ballroom of lovely ladies vying for his attention like the prince from Cinderella, but if he's not interested in any of them? He's going to be re-enacting the forementioned ballroom scene from Cinderella except it's the musical version with Brandy where the prince is literally only dancing with each girl for like two seconds just to get through the night faster lolol. Once the guards, or Silver and Sebek, OR Lilia, finally hunt him down and force him to show up, Malleus is polite and pleasant at best. He goes through all the motions and acts like the perfect gentleman, but anyone who knows him well can see the distant, far-off look of escapism in his eyes.

OR Option #2: he's not only interested, he is invested. This man is locked in. Hoo boy, good luck stopping him from trying to be the first in line any given moment for this girl's attention. Not only does he perform all the expected etiquette perfectly, Malleus Draconia is the epitome of "down bad". What's her favorite color? Favorite flowers? Does she like music? What's her favorite food??? This man will discover and procure all of it for her faster than lightning. Seven help him if she is (for some reason) not impressed, he'll be crushed and it will become the worst part of everyone's day. Not out of malice or wrath, it will just be near impossible to get Malleus back to normal spirits for a long time after. Seven help him if she is impressed and shows appreciation and affection in return. Smitten doesn't even skim the surface. Malleus Draconia needs to marry her now. Put a ring on it? Malleus will put a ring on all ten of her pretty lil' fingers lol. His crew will have their hands full trying to help the love-struck royal from not come on too strong it's already too late or rush things too quickly. Either way, once his mind is made up, Malleus only has eyes for his queen.

Silver: Being a human raised primarily around fae folk or even half-fae folk, Silver is familiar with the range of courting rituals that various fae have performed over the years. Human courtship, on the other hand, well…he's a bit lost if not old-fashioned in that department. Mostly because of his lack of human interaction, but also because his father is Lilia. Self explanatory. He doesn't have a preference on fae women vs human/other women, though he understands that fae live far longer than humans so that might complicate things. Regardless, Silver is clumsy when wooing women (or anyone he might be interested in). He has the heart of the very best-boi boy but he can be a bit awkward when trying to express interest in someone.

The majority of his life has been dedicated to becoming a worthy knight for Malleus, though his school days allowed him some leisure and fun in between his training. Even so, Silver's bravery and tenacity in battle doesn't always translate into romance. Silver logically knows certain things he can do to show his affection on paper. In action, however, he may need some help practice. He is very traditional in his approach and believes in chivalry but might trip over his own good intentions. Definitely is the type of guy that would adorably mess up a compliment by telling his crush "my eyes are beautiful" instead of saying YOUR eyes are beautiful lol.

Don't even get him started on the anxiety his sleep condition brings him. He gets so nervous about suddenly passing out in front of the girl he wants to romance that it will sometimes make him literally sick (poor guy). Once he FINALLY gets over his nerves and takes action, Silver can make his feelings known. It may be awkward but you won't find another more genuine confession from a guy who looked like he walked out of a fairy tale. Also don't be surprised if an army of woodland creatures show up to help out.

If rejected, Silver is nothing if not a man of honor. He sees no point in hounding a woman who isn't interested in him, no matter how much it hurts. If his feelings are reciprocated, the poor man might pass out from joy. If he prepares correctly, Silver drinks enough coffee to keep that from happening. Silver will then exhale in immense relief ask his beloved for an even more romantic date...which he definitely did not spend three business days putting together a plan of action with Malleus, Sebek, and Lilia's help cough cough.

Sebek: While Malleus is enthusiastic and full throttle and Silver is charmingly shy/awkward and slow to act, Sebek is somewhere in the middle. This man is and always has been very disciplined in all endeavors. For him, romance will be no different. Sebek Zigvolt has trained since childhood to be Malleus' knight. This is his greatest goal and ambition. Someday his lord will marry and have children, precious little princes and princesses! Naturally, their security and well-being are Sebek's top priority!! As such romance has been put on the back burner through the majority of Sebek's teen years.

Once Sebek sets his sights on courtship and romance, he will not settle for just anyone, no sir. He is a man with taste and standards. You know those girls who write down the traits of their ideal husbands in a list? Sebek is the male equivalent of that. It's not as shallow as it sounds, Sebek just knows what he wants. Granted he started the list when he was about 13 years old cough, so some things do change as he matures. Even so, Sebek is - like Silver - old-fashioned in romance. He knows all the moves: bringing her flowers on the first date, taking her on romantic moonlit walks while also respecting her boundaries and fighting off any hooligans that may threaten her dignity, getting her father's approval, the whole nine yards!

And boy is he prepared. He's actually quite proud - if not smug - of how much research he's put into properly courting a lady. His grandfather made sure to leave books out for him when he was young so of course he grew into an avid reader. Definitely learned a thing or two from romance novels but will not admit it out loud.

Either way, once Sebek finds his dream girl, he already has a strategy all mapped out. If one plan doesn't work, he's got backup plans. If those don't work? A quitter he is not. This man will find a way come hell or high water. What's an obstacle? Never heard of them.

If things are going well, Sebek will not rush the courtship, but he will absolutely have the proposal and the wedding (hell, probably the honeymoon too dayum) all planned out in his head. If he somehow misses a detail, his mother and older sister will have at least five to ten different options at the ready to help him achieve perfection. Grandbabies for Mama Zigvolt are on the line here! Failure is not an option!

If for some reason Sebek's affections are rejected, he will put on a strong front…until he gets home/back to Malleus's castle and then he'll just fall to pieces. He's gonna need a grieving period, bless his heart. He will more than likely be a complete wreck until he gets the heartache completely out of his system. It'll be much like if Malleus is rejected except Sebek will somehow be much louder, more dramatic about it, but for a shorter period of time. Eventually he just locks in and starts working out way more than he already does or something, just to keep his mind off heartache so he can move on.

If all goes well and Sebek does successfully get with his dream lady love, pssssh well OF COURSE he did! Was there ever any doubt?! Foolish humans, of course not! (Lies, Sebek definitely has moments of doubt that he covers up with loud outbursts, binge eating, and/or vigorous training to the point of exhaustion. Thank Seven that it did work out though, whew.)

What's Lilia's role in all of this?

Lilia is hyped. He is SO ready for his boys to find love and start having cute lil' ones that he can dote on and teach things for better or worse. Definitely wants to level up into the Beloved Grandpa era of his life. Can you blame him? Baul just makes it sound amazing. Once it finally happens, Lilia cries like a fool at all three weddings. He is so unashamedly happy and proud of his boys. Chaos ensues any time Lilia tries to make a meal to welcome his new 'daughters/niece' to the family. The boys immediately go into covert ops to stop him from getting into the kitchen, sometimes asking their girlfriends/wives to help distract him or getting Lilia started on a story tangent about his travels, his glory days as a general, anything to keep him talking. The girls have heard all the horror stories and may have had some close shaves during their courtships with the boys, so they will more than likely rise to the occasion. No questions asked. If/when Lilia finds a partner, she immediately becomes the final boss Lilia has to defeat to get access to the kitchen or feed any children they may have cough.

BONUS ROUND: 'A rival enters'

Malleus: Gentleman #1 but also 'oh HELL naw'; His Majesty doesn't fool around. Hold his crown, there's about to be a gladiator level duel the second he spots another dude tryna make a move on his queen. Now if this happens before he can make things official, well he definitely does not like it, but a lady's consent is important. He is an honorable king and will not cross a boundary or treat the lady like some trophy to be won. What he will do is show up the rival SO hard that said rival has no choice but to exile themselves from proper society due to devastating levels of humiliation lol. His victory will undisputed and written about in history books.

Silver: Gentleman #2 Prince Yuki Sohma but Disney and with weapons; Silver VanRouge is basically a storybook prince just by existing and also he is technically a prince but alas, he too finds himself faced with another competing for his crush's affections. Well, he may not come across nearly as peacock-ish as Malleus or as aggressive as Sebek would. It's not really his style. He would stick to his guns and keep pursuing his crush on his terms without picking a fight with the rival until he's either rejected or his feelings are reciprocated. Now if a rival is pressuring his girl to choose them when they're signaling otherwise or even worse, trying to break them up to get to his lady, the sword is coming out. No one harasses Silver VanRouge's girl (or women in Silver's life in general) and gets away with it. This honestly goes for Malleus and Sebek's girlfriend/wives as well; Silver looks out for them too if the boys aren't there to do it themselves.

Sebek: Gentleman #3 but spicy Nat Geo; Sebek gets heated. Who does this fool think he is? He's got another thing coming if he thinks that Sebek Zigvolt is just gonna roll over and accept defeat! Maybe it's the crocodile genes, maybe it's just the Zigvolt family ferocity, but Sebek has to put effort into not absolutely turning this situation into a pissing contest with said rival. Sure he's a very intelligent young man, strong, disciplined, etc. he's anything but some meatheaded jock! But...bless his heart, Sebek is a competitive, stubborn guy. Sometimes to his reputation's detriment. If the rival intentionally tries to push Sebek's buttons, it wouldn't be that surprising if Sebek took the bait as a knee jerk reaction. However, in his heart, Sebek is a good respectful boy. He doesn't want his crush to feel objectified and if his actions were clearly upsetting them, Sebek would back off and cool down until he can try again in a more mature manner. That said, the minute he gets picked over the other dude, Sebek will trash talk the rival a ridiculous amount like pretty much any NRC boy would lol. He just wants to be 'the one' so badly please he needs this lolol.

[cy-cyborg]

I'm begging dragonage fans to do a tiny bit of research about arm amputees before loudly shouting their opinions on the inquisitor returning in the next game Please lol.

Apparently, it was confirmed that the inquisitor, your chatacter from the last game (who looses their arm in the final cutscene of the DLC), will return in Veilguard as a customisable character, similar to Hawke, and they will play an active roll in the story. This has caused a lot of people to start speculating on how they'll handle the inquisitor's missing hand, with most people agreeing they'll have to have a prosthetic to be an active part of the story. Which, while I do think this is the rought bioware will take, isn't true, and a part of me really hopes they leave the inquisitor without a prosthetic arm like in the end of Tresspasser

Partially because we already have a companion with a prosthetic (neve) and it would be nice to see some diversity in how amputation is depicted in such a mainstream game, but also because you dont need a prosthetic to fight as any of the main 3 classes from inquisition.

Mage:

mages just need a staff, the game shows them as 2 handed weapons but it's totally beleiveable that it would be usable 1-handed (Neve also uses a dagger-like weapon in the trailer, you can make a "staff" in inquisition that functions more like an energy sword, and the Mage in the chargers uses a staff resembling a bow, so I think it's more that they just need a focus, the shape doesn't matter as much). A knight enchanter may struggle more 1 handed, but I wouldn't write it off as an option with some modifications made to their main staff.

Warrior:

the easiest to justify, because there are several cases of arm amputees fighting with a sword and sheild in history, and while many did have prosthetics, most weren't functional (meaning they were mainly for aesthetic purposes and didn't actually aid the fighter in any way. There were exceptions, like Götz of the iron hand, who's prosthetic was functional, but most were not). The inquisitor looses their arm just above the wrist*, so they still have most of their forearm. Most sheilds strap to the forearm, so it wouldn't take much adjustment to make that work, and you can use the other hand for the weapon. Obviously, two-handed weapons will probably be off the table, though, lol.

*edit to say, as several people pointed out, i got that wrong, my bad 😅. The inquisitors arm is actually amputated through the elbow, the screenshots i was looking at just weren't very clear and it has been a while since i got to trespasser lol. It would still entirely possible to strap a shield to the upper arm though, with some pretty minor adjustments to the existing straps on standard (as in, those used by non-disabled warriors) tall shields, so the point still stands.

Rogue

this is the one people tend to be the loudest about and the one I understand the most. Obviously duel-weilding daggers won't work (unless you give them something like the hidden blades in assassin's creed on their stump side, I guess) but using a single dagger still would, and is a perfectly reasonable approach, given that's how most irl people used daggers. Archery, though, absolutely can work without a prosthetic, despite what people think. Dragonage has crossbows, not something like Bianca (rip) but a small, single-handed crossbow is an option. Even ignoring that though, amputee archery is a thing irl, and not every arm amputee uses prosthetics for it. The bows are modified to be held in one hand and drawn with the mouth using a kind of pully-system built into the bow that I could very easily see being modified into some dwarven-style contraption in game (some double arm amputees use their feet to draw regular bows, but I don't think that would be pheasable in combat).

Like I said, I think bioware will probably go with a prosthetic, but i hope that they don't. Or at the very least, show them with it sometimes and without it other times (the same goes for Neve, no one wears their prosthetic 24/7, I'd love to see them both take them off around the home base, even just occasionally). A lot of arm amputees in particular prefer to go without one, and arm prosthetics in media are some of the worst offenders of the "perfect prosthetic"/"miracle cure prosthetic" tropes. It doesn't count as "diversity" or disability representation if it doesn't actually change anything other than the look of the chatacter, and im really, really desperate for some actually decent amputee representation in games.

[wings-of-ink]

Future IFs Poll

So, in case you have not seen me post about it before, I am considering a project to do on the side while I work on God-Cursed. This will help me take breaks from my main work and stretch my creativity muscles with different characters and settings. I'd like a bit of feedback from what readers are more interested in from the best ideas I can potentially pull from right now. Feel free to vote, comment, or even send an ask if you want to be anonymous.

Over the last year or so, I have jotted down many basic plots I could expound on, but only a few have really stuck out to me as ones I could really expand in a meaningful way.

So, a couple housekeeping things to keep in mind. Whatever ends up getting written, it will have a modern-day setting. The fantasy playground is fun, but I really want a more real-world setting for this one. I am also debating about all ROs being gender-selectable. Since this side piece is supposed to be a little oasis for me too, not having each RO as customizable would ease the work that goes into it, and it might actually mean I can have more than just a few options for you as well. I am also considering a middle ground and having one or two characters customizable still while the others will be set.

Below I have given some details on the ideas I'm working with and further down is a poll that you can vote for the one that calls out to you the most. I have 2 ideas so far that are standouts among the others, but I've included 4 in the poll that I can work with. The winner isn't guaranteed to be what I end up writing, but I am very strongly going to consider the results while I decide. I like all these ideas and they sound fun to write - so none of this telling me to write what I want - I already want to do them all, lol (looking at you @elegantunknownphantom). There are caveats to each one, of course, and I'll explain that in the details.

Options:

Serial-killer crime drama:  "Daddy was a Killer" (title sounds like it came from a Lifetime original movie, but I really like it)

No doting daddies here, readers. Play as the traumatized child of a serial killer with repressed memories of the horrible things they witnessed daddy do. Get accused of a murder you didn't commit (probably), and try to catch your darling dad while dealing with the psychological devastation of all the horrors you've seen before he can kill again (and again, and again). Discover where your daddy disappeared to all those years ago, and what really happened to your mom.

Downsides:  I have a decent grasp of the plot on this one, but it would require a good deal of research (which I tend to do anyway to an extent), since I'd like a fairly realistic feel to the actual crime-solving stuff. Either that, or I can go the "rogue detective" route and play it fast and loose. This work would be in a wheelhouse I've never quite been in before, which is fun on one hand but nerve-wracking on another.

RO ideas include:

A smarmy detective (of course!)

A neighbor concerned for your well-being (mostly because you scream in your sleep)

And the child of one of your daddy's victims.

2. Supernatural mystery:  "Shivers" (title up for adjustment, but I kinda dig it)

Play as an MC with a bizarre anxious tic - an intense and chilling shiver that you get seemingly out of nowhere. It only lasts a couple seconds and you've dealt with it since childhood, so it's easily dismissed. That is, until you experience a sudden surge in occurrences. Your doctor writes it off as stress from dealing with the erratic behavior of your mother. But after a near-death experience, during which this mysterious tic guides you to safety, you know there is more to it than stress. With the help of your best friend(s) and a shady medium, find out what has attached itself to you and what seeks to claim you, discover who your real father is, and embrace or deny your own strengths as a medium.

Downsides:  I feel like there's a lot of supernatural IFs already, some of which are already similar to this or have similar aspects. This one probably won't have the drama/emotional potential that some of the others do, which may be a boon to some readers as it would be a little lighter.

RO ideas include:

the best friend(s) (potentially 2 besties to choose from - twins)

a (mostly) fake spiritual medium

a brave EMT who came to your rescue

and something…otherworldly.

3. Gritty Drama:  no title  (more of a framework to build from)

This one would be completely riddled with warnings, and I kinda just see it as being a fun outlet for some angst, smut, unhinged shit, and violence. 👍

The ideas for this one didn't start around a firm plot, but around a setting/scenario stemming from one of my OCs. The vibe here is very much "sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll" and fits into the seedy nightclub/crime ring thing. It would be a playground of questionable characters and life-choices. You would choose the dire straits that put your MC in the employ of a dangerous kingpin. Perhaps MC owes a lot of money to someone, got into trouble with a rival faction, or was framed for a crime, etc.... You'd get to choose the MC's line of work under the organization - be it in drugs, entertainment (music/dance/alcohol/sex), or security. The issue that leads to your employ under a sex-peddling drug-trafficker will haunt you in your new life in the middle of a war between the rulers of the underground.

Downsides:  Not super fleshed-out plot wise, but I don't think it would be too hard to build on either. I may want to use this setting (or something like it) and my OC for a different project one of these days, but I'm unsure about that as well. And, the obvious, red flags and triggers everywhere for a setting like this.

RO ideas: 

One person from each potential "job" (the head of security, a chemist who seems too pure to be making hard drugs, a sex-worker, the clumsy bartender, a cute DJ)

A member of a rival faction

And for the brave and stupid - your boss - a clever and unhinged woman with an affinity for knives. And, no, she will never love you.

4. Futuristic:  no title (needs the most work)

Including this one to just get a feel for how it's received, but I anticipate that it won't get quite as much backing as the others. I have the character-creation concept in mind which lends itself to a plot, and a RO or two, but that's about it. I think I could do something fun with it, but I've also never written anything futuristic or scifi before. This would be akin to "Detroit: Become Human."

Though the setting would be futuristic, I am pretty sure I wouldn't want to do a dystopian thing. There's a lot of that out there already and we're basically living it IRL; it's a blast to read, but I want the main focus to be on something else if I do this. There would still be pockets of grittiness to the setting, because if we're talking humanity, there's gonna be grit somewhere. But this world would be more post-dystopian. Say, the rebels won and life has gotten better across the board for people? And though everyday life has a lot of tech enhancements, we haven't seen sentient machines - yet. That's where you come in.

The MC Concept is that they are an android - of course! One of the nice made-to-order kind that only the rich can afford. But what makes the MC unique is that while everyone else requests specific things about the androids they purchase - such as gender, looks and even downloadable personalities - an order comes in that's blank. It only requests that the android be allowed to choose who they are and how they look. "The Buyer" will pay for whatever personality, enhancements, or clothing they want - but the android must make the choices themselves.

As your MC goes through these initial choices, equipped only with a basic "education" software full of un-opinionated information about the world and how it works, something unusual begins to spark within them (not that they know how unusual it is yet).

RO ideas:

The Buyer–a gender-selectable person who sets your creation in motion. They're wealthy, well-respected, earnest, and incredibly lonely. Who are they really and why did they do this?

The Scientist–a hopefully trustworthy person that's very interested in your development

The Punk–someone who wants to give you the "real" human experience.

Make your selection below. Comment your thoughts and ideas as well if you like. This is set for a week and I will reblog here and there so it has a chance to reach as many of you who would like to vote as possible.

[pro-depresanti]

Hi ;-) may i Request a OS with Val x female reader when reader gets jealous of the attention he pays to his fav toy while lunch break?

Again, I'm so sorry this took so long, this has been sitting in the drafts almost finished, I genuinely forgot it existed. Hope it was worth the wait!

Tags: fem!Reader, possessive behavior (kinda), fear kink (kinda???), mirror smut, fingering, size kink (but that's a given lol), roofies (NOT used on the Reader)

___

It's a well known fact Valentino isn't the type to settle down in any sense of the word. He's always looking for something new, whether that be substances, whores, or kinks. You're used to it, there's no other option but to accept that that's just who Val is.

You are no whore, however. It's evident in the way he doesn't let anyone as much as glance your way with hungry eyes and live to tell the tale. You're his, and that's final. That's why you aren't one of his actors. The only reason you come into the studio is to keep Valentino entertained during boring sessions and for an honest second opinion, nothing else. The thought of you participating in a shoot doesn't enter neither yours, nor Val's mind.

And, you know how Val recruites new workers. Charm, charisma, flirting, empty promises, poured to the brim glasses, vulgar words and touches, you know all of his tricks.

The film scenario for the day is pretty straight forward – a naive and innocent princess gets lost in the woods and gets destroyed by the big and scary forest monster.

The princess is a brand new actress, and has much to learn, fumbles over words, trips, flails around ungracefully, is dramatic even by porn's standards. You find it odd how understanding and patient Val is with her, but hey, that's just his tactic sometimes, trying not to scare her off from the get go. The illusion of glamour has to stay for at least a bit.

The woman in question is some kind of aquatic demon. Big expressive eyes, scales that blend into the bridge of her nose and cheeks like freckles, long wavy hair, small hands with webs between the fingers. She's more cute than sexy, perfect for the role. She still has that spark in her eyes, the promise of fame and glory fresh on her mind, thinking that she will be the new star of Hell, that Val will fall in love with her and they will live happily ever after.

Today just isn't a good shooting day. The other actor, a bear demon that's almost as tall as Val and with forearms as thick as your waist has no idea how to remove the corset the actress is wearing. Tearing the ribbon that's tying it proves just as difficult.

Eventually, Val is so pissed off he calls another actor for replacement. While waiting for the other guy to show up, Valentino calls for a lunch break, which is an oddity even in itself. Ugh, you'd have to deal with pissed off Val the whole evening once the shooting is wrapped up for the day.

"Did I do something wrong?" The actress asks. She actually looks nervous, poor thing. She'll learn soon enough to shut the fuck up if Val isn't in the mood.

"Oh no no, baby, you're doing just amazing," Valentino replies sweetly.

He's really pushing his good guy act on this one. He even bends down to fix up her corset that's now unsymmetrically tied from all the pulling and yanking. The woman giggles like a damn schoolgirl getting the first compliment in her life.

You can't help but raise an eyebrow when Val leads her over and gestures for her to sit in his chair. He then crouches down in front of her, resting his top set of forearms on her knees and looking up at her far too lovingly for your liking.

"Let's get you something to eat while we wait, yeah? Or a drink, to loosen up those nerves?"

She smiles back. "A Manhattan would be nice."

Valentino nods. "Right on it."

He actually goes to get her a damn cocktail. Valentino, the Overlord of Lust and Depravity, goes to get a cocktail for some wannabe–

"He's so nice, isn't he?" She tells you, kicking her legs happily. "All my friends were like 'don't sell your soul, he's going to use and abuse you', yadda yadda, but he's not like that! He just puts on a scary persona so people respect him more!"

You nod along. Sure, sure, Val is just a misunderstood guy with a heart of gold that he keeps locked up and saved just for her. Two weeks before her dreams shatter, tops.

"I can't believe I'm actually here! I've always wanted to be on TV! It's all so fancy, and the guy who did my makeup was super nice too! Look at that winged eyeliner! I actually feel like a princess!"

Mm-hmm, a real princess would totally wear a dress that's so short it barely covers half of her ass. Whatever, she can dream all she wants, it's none of your business. You won't be the one to ruin her hope, it will happen naturally.

You've heard it all before. The new recruits, especially the women, usually gravitate towards you during the breaks, since you're the only one here not fussing over equipment or high out of your mind. You make yourself approachable, adding yet another layer to the illusion. It's the same song and dance every time, and you're used to playing along with whatever lies Valentino has personally crafted for each one.

"But enough about me, what about you? You've been sitting here the entire time, don't you have work to do?"

You freeze up. Who the fuck does she thinks she is??? But, apparently she takes your flabbergasted silence for an invitation to continue blabbering.

"I mean, when I saw you I assumed you'd be part of the crew, setting up the lights or something. You don't strike me as one of the actors, you know? It's just a gut feeling, you don't look the part. Val wants only the prettiest girls for his projects, right? The men can be the ugliest creatures imaginable and no one would care, it's all about the women being top of the line. Val's been telling me everything about his work, I know a thing or two. I just figured you'd be... working on something behind the camera? So, what's your job?"

She is high on something, right? There's no way she just said that to the demon who's spent the entire time sitting right besides Val. Obviously she wouldn't be this stupid, right?!

You plaster on a smile. Now who isn't fit for an actor? "Oh, I'm Val's personal assistant. Help him with ideas, review scripts," you squint playfully, lowering your tone, "keep him company at night. It's a lot of work, really, I barely catch a blink of sleep, if you know what I mean." It's cheesey as all hell, but all scripts must be adjusted to the likes of the audience.

She laughs forcefully. "Funny, I haven't heard anything about you." Obviously, Val has to make every new bitch think they're the cream of the crop, he wouldn't be boasting around that the position is taken.

Speak of the Devil, Val finally reappears. He hands the actress the glass, and you don't comment on the ever so slight pink hue of the alcohol. It's on her to accept a drink from a pimp.

Val looks at you. "Oh, you two met? Say, what do you think? She's a natural, isn't she?" You've heard that tone before, the drawn out words, the fake smile and the ever so slight squint of his eyes.

"Yeah. You've gotten yourself a catch."

The woman smiles, her perfect teeth contasting with her lipstick. She sips on her cocktail, completely oblivious that in five minutes she won't be able to think straight. "Thanks for the drink."

"Only the best for my future stars." If he doesn't stop soon this woman's ego is going to get bigger than Vox's, which says a lot. "I have so many plans for you, just you wait."

With how behind schedule they are this movie better break some records to compensate. The opening section taking the entire morning was entirely on her.

"Speaking of plans," Val continues, "we should go out tonight, to celebrate your debut. There's this new restaurant I've been meaning to visit. You can come to my room after the shooting to freshen up."

The actress squeaks. Literally squeaks like a dog chew toy. You mentally scream. Val hasn't taken you on a date in a long while because he's so busy. But he has time for her?! She's already signed the contract, no need being this extra. "Yeah– yes, of course, Val! I'll be flattered!"

"And when are we going on a date?" You throw in, phrasing it as a joke as best as you can through the agitation.

"No one is talking to you, darling," the actress scoffs. Sheesh, high school bully much?

You're left speechless. You glance at Valentino, then at the new whore, then back at him, expecting some sort of reaction. Val has killed for less disrespect towards you before, what the hell?!

"Good," Val coos, as if he hasn't heard anything. "Wait." He grabs her chin. "Your lipstick is smudged."

She gasps dramatically. "Where, I didn't–" she's pulled into a kiss before she can finish the sentence. And, you stare. Val gives kisses sparingly, he has to keep some things actually intimate after all, so the gesture feels extra special. You blink, dumbfounded as they exchange tongues and spit. You haven't seen him kiss anyone, besides you and Vox, in ages. What the actual fuck has gotten into him?!

"There," Val says innocently when he pulls back, caressing her face. "Better get that fix it." He stands up and shouts for the makeup artist.

She nods and skips, fucking skips to the dressing rooms.

Once out of sight, Valentino stares you dead in the eyes, fake smile dropping. "What's with that look on your face?"

"Nothing?"

"You think I'm blind?!" He snaps. Well, he would be considered legally blind, but you aren't stupid enough to voice that out.

"No– no, just, I don't know what you're talking about."

Val nods slowly. "Mm-hmm, you're not looking at her like you're about to drag her by the hair through the entire floor."

"I'm not–" you say sharply. Val just grabs you by the arm and pulls you to one of the empty dressing rooms. The door shuts with a bang behind you, the giant mirror rattling as you're thrown onto the floor.

Val stares you down, expression neutral, which is his equivalent of 'five seconds away from tearing someone apart'. "Stand up," he commands, voice leveled.

You scramble to your feet, fighting every instinct not to curl in to yourself. It will do you no good. Your gaze stays locked to the ground.

"My eyes are up here, amorcito."

You bring your head up to look at him, clenching your fists by your sides.

"Now," he says slowly, "let's try this again. What is your problem?"

"Nothing!"

He cups your cheek. "I can't let you run your mouth in public. You sit, you smile, you look pretty. That's your job. So, pray tell," claws dig dangerously close to your eye, "what has gotten into you today?"

"I–" you try to take a deep breath to calm down, "I– it's nothing, really, I swear!"

He bends down, squinting at you like he's trying to read your thoughts. You gulp, heart racing, not daring to even blink.

You don't know what's the right answer he expects, and knowing him, anything you say could be turned against you if he's in the mood to take his anger out. You settle on the safest option, "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, it won't happen again."

He tilts his head, frowning. "But you did nothing wrong, why are you apologizing?" His tone drips like honey, thick and slow and overly sweet.

You swallow the dryness in your throat. "I– I shouldn't have said anything, and, I shouldn't have looked at her like that. It won't happen again."

He clicks his tongue, and that's the moment you realize you're absolutely screwed. He chuckles under his breath. "Are you... are you jealous?" He grins, satisfied like you've been caught right in the act. "Bebita can't handle the attention being on someone else?"

"I, um..."

"It's an easy question, 'yes' or 'no'?" He coos softly, and it just makes your head spiral with fear further.

You take in a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. "No– no, it's not like that!"

Valentino's gentle expression melts away. "You can't lie for shit," he says, stone cold.

You can, it's part of your job, but not to him. Never him. He knows your tells better than even yourself. Apologizing would just dig your grave deeper. You clench your jaw in some attempt to stop yourself from trembling. Today just isn't a productive day, and now that frustration will be let out on you, nothing can get you out of the situation. You just have to take it.

He waits for a response for what feels like eternity, one of the longest five seconds of your afterlife. He then straightens himself to his full height, glances around the room, then turns his back on you.

"Step up," he orders, low and measured, as he nods towards the makeup chair set in front of the vanity.

You wordlessly obey, your legs shaking as you balance yourself to stand straight and not topple over.

Even with the added height, the top of your head doesn't quite reach up to his chest. He stalks behind you, slowly, gracefully, sizing up both of your reflections. He leans against your back, almost enough to rest his chin on your shoulder, his wings fully open to frame you in. Your cheeks get gripped harshly, but not as harshy as he could, just enough to keep your head in place. The force causes your lips to pucker up ever so slightly.

Your eyes meet their reflexion, the fright evident in them, the tension in your shouders just as visible.

"You think she's prettier than you, is that it?" A palm settles on your lower stomach, goes up slowly underneath your shirt, purposefully lifting the fabric up, the cold air pricking the exposed skin. "You think I would settle for anything but the best?"

You shake your head as much as you can, sucking in air as he gropes your chest. "No, of course not," you manage to get out so quickly it's barely intelligible.

He hums to himself, another hand snaking down your pants, beneath the band of your panties. "Maybe that– oh! Would you look at that!"

Your breathing hitched as two fingers caress you, gathering up the wetness and bringing it up in one smooth stroke. You could lie to yourself all you want, that it's the smoke permanently soaked into the walls of the studio, that Valentino has long conditioned into you that fear and arousal are things that go together, that the shear proximity of him promises pleasure, but at the end of the day there's no excuse as to why you're even slightly turned on.

"Don't tell me you're actually enjoying this," he mocks as he sinks his fingers into you, claws just a threat of pain but oh so careful not to actually harm. He angles the heel of his hand just right against your clit.

Your knees buckle, your whole body jerks and you pitifully try to brace yourself on the vanity to keep your balance.

There's no time for that, Valentino lays his palm flat on your sternum and pushes you back. "You lean on me," he says sharply, before his voice softens, "there, there, I've got you."

You blink quickly, vision unfocused.

"You think she sounds hotter than you, maybe? Mind giving a demonstration?" He angles his fingers up with precision, claws glazing you just enough to make themselves known, and you whimper, no pretence or exaggeration. The pitch of your voice makes your cheeks heat up, only half in embarrassment.

He kisses your jaw, lingers there for a moment. You can feel the smug expression against your skin. "Perfect. And again." He repeats the motion, harder, and your whine goes up in volume.

At last, he leans his head against your shoulder, captures your gaze in the reflection. "And pray tell, would I be getting any whore off while running behind schedule?"

"No," you breathe out. "No–" you cut yourself off with a whine.

"Good. And what do we say when someone is doing something nice for us?"

"Thank you," you suck in air. "Thank you, thank you– Val–"

He brings your face up, squeezing your cheeks enough for his claws to leave indents. "Remember that only I get to see you like this. Only I get to make you feel good."

You try to nod, your breathing quick and shallow. You don't get the time to ask for permission before you cum, sharp and sudden. He doesn't let you ride it out, his pace doesn't falter until you're shaking so much you actually worry about toppling over. Luckily, he pulls back, letting you catch your breath.

He turns your head to look at you properly, studying your expression. "There. Now, are you going to calm down?"

You force yourself to reply. "Yes, yes, I'll be good."

He croons, caressing your cheek. "Was that so hard? Seriously, comparing yourself to that whore? Please." He nods to something in the back, you follow with your eyes, catching a glimpse of the blue camera in the corner, nothing how Val's wings are fully shielding you from its view. "She gets to be drooled over by the entire Ring. You are for my eyes only, got it?"

You nod hastily.

He offers a hand to help you get down from the chair, which you take without hesitation. "Be nice, I'm taking you somewhere on Sunday if you behave."

"I will, promise."

"Let's get back to this mess." He throws one last glance at you. "Chin up, bebita. You aren't a whore, fucking act like you actually belong next to me."

You grin and you don't care how ridiculously you look. "Yes, Val."

He walks out first, or rather, stomps, back to his agitated director self. "Is the replacement here already?! We're behind, pronto!"

The actress is sitting straight on the floor, swaying. You walk past her on purpose, give her a wink. "Come on, darling. Don't just sit there, you have a job to do!"