barelyhere1996

[imreaallyasorry]

I don’t know if this can be tagged as body horror but just in case snort

[blue-disco-lights]

Petition to make "they were both home monitors who see each other at the George Michael concert" your next one-shot.

Bonus points if they have to wear one of those sashes that says Hall Monitor.

Extra double bonus points if there was only one sash. 😱

You got it @ms-moonlight-inn! This is dedicated to you and my fellow 80s music and George Michael fans (and anyone who wanted to read a Hall Monitor AU in my Tag Game comments lol). @michellemisfit @jrooc @energievie @suzy-queued @mybrainismelted @francesrose3

====

He doesn’t know why they’d pair him up with Mickey Milkovich of all people.

Ian stands up straight, stretches to his full height and adjusts his white Hall Monitor sash. The halls are empty now after afternoon recess, but he walks from the attendance office to the boy’s bathroom, to make sure all’s clear. The halls aren’t going to monitor themselves.

He comes around the corner, and - of course - there’s Mickey, slumped against his locker, reading a comic book and playing with his dumb Yo-Yo. He’s not paying attention at all, and not even wearing his sash right. What a joke.

Ian doesn’t realize he’s staring at him, until Mickey looks up from his book and snarks, “Whatcha starin’ at nerd? Dontcha gotta job to do?”

“We both do,” Ian snaps back, rolls his eyes and goes back to his station. From there, he proceeds to glare at Mickey from a distance.

Ian can’t figure out why Mickey always gives him shit for being a Hall Monitor, when he’s one too.

He was really proud when his teacher recommended him for the school’s Safety Patrol program. His grades were good, and he always got points for excellent attendance and behavior. It was one of the most important jobs you could get at school. None of these asshole kids were going to sneak out of class and mess around in the halls on his watch!

He liked keeping order, and being a Hall Monitor helped him take his mind off his chaotic house, his unpredictable “parents”, and all his responsibilities at home with his young siblings. Plus he liked to be in charge of things... and maybe one day, he’d even get to live his dream and go into the military.

Two kids came around the corner out of nowhere and raced noisily down the hall, right under Mickey’s nose.

“Mickey! You just let those kids run off!”

“I ain’t no snitch like you Gallagher.”

“A snitch? I am NOT a… whatever Milkovich, don’t know why you can’t just take this job seriously.”

“Who cares?”

“I do! Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be in detention or juvie or something?”

Mickey laser-focused his eyes right on him. They were so blue. And there was this lock of black hair that kept falling into them every few seconds.

And then, much to Ian’s horror… Mickey lifted his hand and swept it through his hair, and how did everything start moving in slow motion all of a sudden?

And then Mickey had the audacity to smile at him, and Ian felt some kind of electric shock zip through his insides, and … noooo. Nope. He was not going to get a crush on Mickey Milkovich. NOPE.

…………………

10 years later

🎶 I swear I won't tease you

Won't tell you no lies

Don't need no bible

Just look in my eyes 🎶

Thousands of people sang at the top of their lungs together, the amphitheater buzzing with energy. Ian couldn’t believe his roommates got these incredible seats.

He’d always wanted to see George Michael in concert.

Ian looked down the row and watched his friends dancing and singing along, having the time of their lives.

His eyes swept around the whole theater, eyes catching on the performance on stage, George swinging his hips in his signature way, crooning “I Want Your Sex” as his backup singers grooved along. He followed the flashing lights around the venue, watching all the concert-goers in their cutest outfits having the best time with friends.

He couldn’t remember a more magical night.

And then his eye stopped and his breath caught. On one guy in particular…

And it must have been magic after all because at that moment, the gorgeous guy looked over at him too.

🎶 It's playing on my mind

It's dancing on my soul

It's taken so much time

So why don't you just let me go 🎶

Ian didn’t even think- he just moved. Past all his confused friends, down a couple of stairs. He didn’t have to go much further because the guy was moving too.

“Mickey?” Ian uttered breathlessly, leaning in closer so the guy could hear him.

“Gallagher,” is all he said, eyes not leaving Ian’s.

The concert lights flash across both their faces, the bass pounds through both their bodies.

🎶 Oh so much love

That you've never seen

Let's make love

Put your trust in me 🎶

Just then, Mickey swept a lock of hair off his forehead, and Ian was transported right back to their days together monitoring the halls.

And he knew he wasn’t letting Mickey go again.

[maridiayachtclub]

i've been reading the comic Monstress for several years now. i saw the first trade paperback at my friendly local independent bookseller, and bought it largely unknown and unread based on a skim of the art and the synopsis. (It also turned out that the very reasonably-priced Volume 1 is sold for much less than subsequent volumes, so i was perhaps, as they say, suckered in.) and like, it was neat, but a lot of it was very offputting- mostly a voyeuristic fascination with murder that i normally associate with the likes of Mortal Kombat. but there was a lot that i did like (the setting, the art and character design, the brazenness of its writing), so i stuck with it for three more volumes. the whole time i kind of regarded it through this lens of "yeah, i kinda like it, but I kinda don't." like, I'm not really at this party, i'm just hanging around at the door with my coat still on. checking things out but ready to bail at any time. caught between curiosity but also kinda looking for an excuse to leave. and that's a fine way to engage with something, i think, not feeling like you're on the hook because you took a closer look. not every engagement needs to become a thorough, ongoing exploration.

but anyway, I'd read far enough in the trade volumes that actual, live, individual issues were coming out close to the point where my books had ended, so i went to my friendly local comic book shop and had Monstress on my pull list. so its issues began to accumulate in my "to read later" stack, and i didn't really prioritize reading them.

so, several years after that, i was thinking about my sorta guilt-inducingly deep comic book backlog; regarding Monstress, i felt that it'd been long enough since I read it that I'd probably have forgotten a lot of its details- the story is 25% murder, 25% cool worldbuilding, 25% tense political and military discussion, and 25% seething personal confrontations, and i needed a refresher on the latter two categories at least.

so i started rereading it from the beginning. not a big deal, it's pretty breezy. and a lot was coming back to me, especially when i found myself looking forward to things i remembered and enjoyed during my first reading (like the big buff shark lady pirate boss. She's excellent. She's got this great devil-may-care attitude and some funny lines that help her stand out in a cast that is 50% sassy butch women in positions of authority by volume). it was easy to get back into the fun of things, and look forward to seeing where familiar characters were gonna go.

so now i'm about six issues into my... uh... 27 issue backlog (my god, i'm so sorry) and it's going great. i kinda have to pace myself because it's at the point where i could start ripping through the story (not literally. i like to be nice to books) without giving it or the art time to really settle in. along the way, there's some really comic-booky twists and turns in the story ("of course she would be her old teacher! she studied under the best military minds in the world, after all-!"), and while I'm reading them i'm enjoying how every twist is making things more tense. and then another novel violence befalls a character who didn't deserve it and i can't help but be like "wow! that's truly awful. i am continuously impressed that this story keeps finding new ways to emphasize how absolutely wretched its world is." there's a gruesome spectacle here and my buds are waving me over to take a look. the story's all "c'mon and get up here, we held you a spot! you gotta see this shit!" such an earnest invitation is captivating in itself!

and i realize that i'm no longer just hanging around, i'm actually having fun and genuinely enjoying the comic, if not for the first time then for the first time i am actively aware of. and that's cool, it feels kinda liberating to go from feeling like i was digging for something to justify an investment, to actually having fun at the function. it took a while to feel out my groove but now i'm on the dance floor. which is kind of an ill-fitting metaphor for reading comic books, so sorry about that

(it's a shame the tumblr hasn't been updated in like 7 years. they literally put that URL on the back of their books. you gotta admire the gumption of a book published by an actual publisher and sold in actual store that plugs a tumblr on the back cover)

[colliewolfdraws]

Are you gonna keep the Ghost/Ghostbusters AU going? Or did you stop it?

I would like to see what happens next :)

I am!! I just a little burnt out on making the comic, the ghost au is one of my favorites!! I have so many ideas for it that I can’t wait to share!! Just gotta get myself back in the groove of comic making!!

[eriaizawa]

[part 2] [part 3]

[snellyboi]

Ideas for the Owl House Musical

Dana Terrace has gone on record as saying “No, there won’t be a musical episode” or...something along those lines. But my failed musical composition career makes me uniquely qualified to Armchair-Sondheim my way through a score for an Owl House musical. Below the cut you can see some titles and liner notes! But it’s a long post so I’ll be adding a cut for convenience.

Oh, and if you have song ideas, feel free to add them on! Also, ask for permission before doing any arrangements/sketches of these ideas, simply put I may be using them as fan material in the future, ESPECIALLY the Hunter ones.

SERIOUS NUMBERS:

These are the showstoppers. The ones that get played all the time on Sirius XM’s On Broadway, between Seth and Christine talking about, like...Andrew Rannells’ dog or whatever. The stuff that gets performed at every student recital, that’s sung in every audition after the show gets nominated for a Tony. Hell, one of these songs is probably what they sing AT the Tonies!

Mother (Luz, Camila, Vee): What musical that has anything to do with a mom is complete without a song about moms? Sung when Luz is fading away from contact with her mother - Probably an act ending or something like that.

I Cannot Be Her (Lilith, Edalyn): A more serious take on a song we’ll discuss later, but that is basically Lilith and Edalyn discussing their past problems with each other, and both of them wanting to go back to the way it used to be (Hence not being able to be “Her” - a younger version of the self).

The Stars Outside my Window (Hunter): A soft, tearful, baritone-led, intimate number, dripping with melodramatic strings. A lamentation for his upbringing, specifically the @nadacwriter idea of his upbringing as Lilith’s long lost son, as he clutches Rascal close to his chest. Great for reprises when he falls in love with Willow (YEAH I SAID IT) and when he confronts Belos. That last reprise makes for a GREAT 11 o’clock number.

COMIC IDEAS:

Songs that are there not only to help beef up the count, but also to help keep things from being dower ALL the time. They also help sell tickets and work better in marketing material, and hey, they’re fun to play and fun to sing. Nothing wrong with a simple little tune here and there!

The Best there Ever Was (Gus): ...Gus is fucking awesome, that’s the song. The lead in is him showing off his illusion skills. Great excuse for a dance number but an even better excuse for Gus to be Gus. Who doesn’t love Gus? If there wasn’t an obligation to have other characters involved it’d just be a whole 2 hours of Gus!

I’m Proud of Myself (Because Mama Never Was) (Edalyn, King): Duet where they both talk about how they think they’re great, in spite of parental trauma™. Good stuff.

It Won’t Make me Love You (Amity, Luz, Ensemble): Every romance has at least one song where the leads say “I’m not falling for you, honest!” and then they IMMEDIATELY fall for one another. It’s just the sort of thing a show needs! Fans eat that stuff up and it becomes immediate undergraduate recital fuel - make sure to clinch the rights on that one before it gets to Musescore or IMSLP, though!

ROMANCE NUMBERS:

C’mon. Gotta have a love song. It’s a musical!

A Feeling I Just Never Knew (Luz, Amity): The big Lumity song. Softer, slow ballad, probably a slow groove to it. A bit more light hearted and fun, no ‘Music of the Night’ stuff here. More like Dancing Through Life, but less insidious and a little shorter. 

The Stars Outside My Window (Reprise) (Hunter, Willow): A reprise, featuring a voice from Willow and possibly a round of this and the previously discussed song. Also, uhh, look, I’m a Huntlow shipper. If you ship Hunter with someone else, that’s great! You can swap out Willow’s name and the concept still works great!

I Never Want to Let Go Again (Eda, Raine): A reunion song - their romance is hinted at but they only get back together near the end. The vibe here is something like Send In the Clowns, with an obvious difference in subject.

MISCELLANEOUS:

If these songs make it through workshops and previews, they can stick around, I guess.

Hooty Hooty Hoot (Hooty, King, Ensemble): A dance number oriented around Hooty recounting his dull boring day as a house. That’s it that’s the song. If we don’t give Hooty a song people will be mad at us.

A Day Without Sunshine (Camila): A song where Camila laments her daughter’s changes, and finding out that she’s literally run off. It might be TOO much to have it come right after Mother, but still, Camila should get a big part someplace.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Oh my God I just had this thought and it's been making me laugh so I must share with you.

You know that scene in The Emperors New Groove when Kronk cuts the chandelier rope to make it fall on Yzma, but it doesn't hit her because she's so thin she literally went right through it? What if the slashers and/or creepy pastas had that problem with their victims? Trying to kill their victim but them avoiding it for some comical reason? (I've been trying to think of examples but I honestly don't know the slashers and creepypastas enough to know what would- or in this case wouldn't- work XD)

I love this XDD

That's so funny haha XD Imagine how frustrated Slashers get XDD

Some examples I can think of:

Bubba keeps accidentally missing the hook when trynna put someone on it. Like, this girl is so thin and slippery with blood! Cant find any fat to stab her onto- The hook just scrapes over her skin!! He will cry!!

A victim is too scatter brained to follow Freddy's chosen storyline in a dream. He starts something he thinks will get to them and they get distracted by something that's happening in the background and he's gotta start all over again from scratch until he's just a grumpy old man barking for them to just sit down and be still for 2 seconds you Millennial- for fucks sake!-

Billy and Stu get a victim that surprises them with killer Horror Movie trivia and they just effortlessly answer every single question they throw at them. Billy is ready to strangle Stu if he doesn't give him something hard already.

Chucky crawls onto someone's bed with a knife- they immediately roll over and cuddle him; Still asleep. He's now stuck and the knife gets dropped in his surprise. (Chucky: ... fuck.)

Someone's chanting 'Candyman... Candyman... Candyman... Candyman... Candy- ' *Cell phone abruptly rings*

A victim cant seem to figure Pinheads puzzle box out XD

Jennifer luring a boy out of a party, chatting about nerd-stuff, until she smoothes her hand up his chest and flutters her eyelashes, becoming flirty- and he backs off back into the party, all awkward because 'sorry man I'm... actually gay, so... '.

A Prom-goer realises they forgot something in the car just before Tommy and Carrie are pronounced Prom King and Queen and gets distracted- just sitting in the car fiddling with something, or maybe clearing out some garbage he got distracted by, while a massacre is going in the gym-

[football-writing]

I love you out loud

Summary: Last part of the miniseries!! The new season starts and Mason has to leave after spending his holidays with Y/N. Feelings are accidentally revealed in the process.

Note: aahhh it’s the last part! Inspiration doesn’t often strike me like this and I’m so happy it was well received :) thanks everyone for reading ! Hope you enjoy this last part too💙

Warnings: Mason’s mum makes a guest appearance again, some curse words as always and *feelingssss* 

Mason was hurrying around the house trying to gather all his things for the first training of the season. After the euros and his holidays, she had spend most of her time at his house. But now it was time for him to start training at Cobham again, and she was there to wave him goodbye. It was their little ritual for when he started a new season; they would have one last day together to eat all the snacks that he wasn’t allowed to eat when the season started again, before they would say their goodbyes as his family picked him up so they could say goodbye too. It was the last day they had together before getting back to their respective busy lives.

But now it was time for Mason to leave, and he was running around the house trying to find everything he needed, while she was waiting amusedly for him.

“Okay, Y/N I think I have everything.” He finally said as he came jogging down the stairs with his training bag.

“Good, I was thinking I’d have to sit here all day waiting for you.”

“Oh shut it, you. You could’ve helped me look for my stuff too, we’d have more time left together.”

“Now, what would be the fun in that?” She laughed with him and ruffled his hair as he sat down next to her on the couch, putting the bag down beside him. Truth is, she didn’t want him to leave so soon. Their time together this year was the best time they’d had together, and she felt they had grown closer over everything that happened.

Unbeknownst to her, Mason felt the same. If he could extend the start of his season a bit, he would do it in a heartbeat just so he could spend more time with her. As much as he loved football, he had come to find out that he loved her too, and maybe even more so than his love for the sport. Although he had thought of telling her, he ultimately decided against it. With both of their lives being so busy, and him not even sure if she reciprocated his feelings, he figured it was best not to risk their friendship.

“I can’t believe the new season’s already starting. It feels like these holidays went by way too quickly.” She sighed as she broke their silence.

“I know.”

“Are you excited?”

“Maybe. I’m happy to see everyone again, hopefully get the groove back on for the first game” he chuckled. “but I could’ve used a couple more days off.”

She was about to agree, when his phone pinged with a text from his mum saying they were almost there.

“Well, I guess it’s really time for me to go now.” He spoke sadly as both of them stood up.

They both walked towards the front door, and she leaned against the doorframe as he stepped outside.

“Good luck, Mase.” She called out softly after him.

“Good luck? For training? I think I’ll manage, Y/N.” He laughed at her.

“Oh, shush you. Just accept it.” She rolled her eyes, a smile forming on her lips nonetheless.

“Fine. Thanks.” He deadpanned. “I gotta go now, I love you.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, both of them froze. He turned around with a shocked expression on his face, cheeks flushed and eyes slightly wide. Neither of them had ever said ‘I love you’ before. They expressed their love without saying it, just by being there for each other. Besides, Mason’s reaction to his own words told her that they had more than just a friendly undertone.

“Y/N- I’m so sorry I take that back.” He said as he panicked.

“You.. You take it back?” She questioned. He was looking anywhere but her right now, only nodding slowly at her question.

“Well, if you take it back than I won’t say it back either.” She said matter-of-factly.

The speed with which he turned around to look her right in the eyes, his mouth agape with pure shock, was almost comical if it hadn’t been for his previous confession.

“Would you.. Wait what?” He spluttered out.

He took a step forward quickly as he realised what she meant, his hands reaching out for her waist.

“I won’t take it back.” He whispered then, his eyes focused on hers.

“I love you too, Mase.” She whispered back, a smile taking over his features at her confession. Never in a million years would he have guessed she would feel the same, that this would ever happen. And now here they are.

And as they’re looking into each other’s eyes, both leaning in to finally, finally, kiss for the first time, a loud car honk broke them apart.

“Oh my god! I called it!” His mother yelled from the open car window from the car that was now stood in front of Mason’s house.

Mason threw his head back and let out a low groan in frustration as his mother interrupted their moment, while she just laughed at the whole situation. This was completely surreal.

“Well. I guess I really have to go now. Sorry about her.” He said as he pointed to his mum, looking at her apologetically.

“S’okay.” She smiled up at him. If it wasn’t for him now being painfully aware of his mum being there, he would get lost into her beautiful eyes. He’s still awestruck by the fact that she actually likes him back. Hell, she loves him.

“So. Goodbye, Y/N.” He says after clearing his throat, before awkwardly waving at her as he walked towards the car.

“Mase?” She called out sweetly. He turned around with a hopeful expression. Did she still want to kiss him?

“You forgot your training bag.”

“Fuck.”

[foibles-fables]

Hi miss fables.

any tips on writing like you?

also can we get an ETA for Hawk and Thrust?(no pressure tho)

Oh my goodness what a polite salutation, I adore it!!!

Tips on writing like me?? suffer, daily. KIDDING. Kinda. This is a tough question to answer--there's no one-size-fits-all advice, especially when talking in terms of style. Every writer's style is different, each with its own little ticks and nuances, and everyone's gotta find their own groove. The best advice I can give is twofold:

First, practice, practice, practice. I've been at this for a long time, and I'm still learning and growing and changing. And practice different kinds of it, too. My educational and career background kept me working when I took a long hiatus from creative writing--lots of formal and scientific writing in college, lots of technical writing at work now--and the practice there certainly transferred to my jump back into creative writing after a decade. Write for you, write what you're passionate about, craft some emails, make magnet poetry, try to think of a new Wordle opener daily. It all adds up.

Second, read! Read a lot and read often. (I need to take my own advice here and pick up the pace with it again.) And read varied materials--anything that hooks you in. Read fanfiction, yes, but also please read novels. Or read short stories. Or comics. Read nonfiction. Read autobiographies. Read research papers. Read game guide books. Read screenplays and stage scripts and librettos. Read poetry. Read nature guides. Read news articles and editorials (and apply your beautiful critical thinking skills!). Read obituaries. Read how-to guides. Read song lyrics. And in figuring out the things you enjoy reading, think about why you enjoy them. Take what that creator's done and--going back to point one--try to apply it to your own work. Experiment and branch out. Bringing these pieces you like together is what coalesces your own style.

That's the best I can do, besides like--just saying to suffer again, because that's sometimes how it feels on my end, lmao.

AS FOR Hawk and Thrust! Hah! It is still underway after this weird week of floating in Listlessness City. I don't have an exact ETA on it yet, but I'm finally feeling the weirdness of...well, all That lift off of me. And now I'm more determined than ever to bring y'all this ✨Officially Canon Divergent✨ Between-Installments Smut. What do I have to lose at this point? I'm also brewing a Number of other HFW-adjacent pieces (at lots of different spots on the spectrum of canon divergence and canon compliance), so watch this space?! I promised y’all I was only going to get Worse about these two. I'm about ready to fistfight with a god.

[johnshelbystoothpick]

'NO MORE HIDING'

[PETER MAXIMOFF X FEM!OC]

WARNINGS — explicit sexual references, strong language

WORD COUNT — 1,608

PROMPT(S) — “just a little more” & “i want everyone to know that you’re mine”

TRANSLATIONS — koroleva; queen

WRITTEN FOR — @lazylangdon’s one shots contest, round four (smut); she is also the one who was kind enough to make the above graphic for me! <3

———

“If we get caught, Maximoff, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Peter quirks his signature grin, all cockiness and bravado with no trace of humility to be seen. If Peter Maximoff is capable of embarrassment, it is not something that has ever been witnessed by another human being. Certainly not by Arcadia, at least, and she is quite literally capable of feeling his emotions - something she ordinarily finds useful, but in such circumstances as these the arousal radiating off of him in waves threatens to submerge her in a sea of eroticism.

“I love it when you’re feisty,” he growls lowly, dipping his head so that silver hair brushes against her sharp cheekbones. It tickles, but the sensation is sensual as opposed to playful which one may consider strange for somebody with as natural an affinity for immaturity as Peter. If Arcadia has learned over the past few months that the Peter Maximoff the world sees is not the whole man but rather a fragment projected.

Her fingers twitch with the need to move and suddenly Arcadia finds herself sympathetic to Peter’s everyday plight because this must be how he feels in any given situation: like things are moving too slowly. Torturously, agonisingly slow.

“I’ve never really understood the whole academic spiel,” Peter says after a lengthy pause, “but damn if thinking so hard doesn’t look hot on you, Brodeur.”

She rolls her eyes, more exasperated than annoyed, and her hands find the collar of his shirt. Yanking him forward with more force than strictly necessary, Arcadia effectively swallows his sharp intake of breath when her lips crash against his own.

It’s messy and without preamble, as is always the case when the two of them can find a spare moment alone away from the prying eyes of telepathic professors and fathers who aren’t yet aware that their adult son is living under the same roof as he is, currently making out with his girlfriend in an abandoned classroom two floors above his bedroom. There is still the raw passion that consumes Arcadia whenever Peter is in her presence, but the tenderness is quashed in favour of the rapid removal of clothing and skin-on-skin contact which drives her dizzy with desire every time.

“Are you done with the whole hate sex act?” Peter questions, one eyebrow raised. He’s obviously amused, almost definitely aroused if his body’s natural reaction is any indication, and looking at Arcadia through pupils blown wide with lust.

She brings a hand up to his cheek, cradles it for a moment, then lightly drags her nails across his cherry red, kiss-swollen lips. “Just a little more,” she whispers, breaths tapering into uneven huffs when she feels Peter’s hands weaving through dark tresses and lightly tugging the strands with just the right amount of pressure that the pain is gratifying. “How am I supposed to be annoyed with you when you make me feel like this?”

“It’s all part of my natural charms,” he claims brazenly, breath hot against the shell of her ear. The phantom sensation of his words across her skin sends a stimulating jolt of pleasure through her entire body. “Now, do you wanna talk or do you wanna make out?”

“God, you are such a boy,” she scoffs, slapping his arm lightly. It may have been effective in conveying her point, but it only makes Peter’s salacious smirk widen as he grabs her wrist and pins it above her head with a victorious expression.

“You love me for it,” he states.

It is not a question, though Arcadia finds herself nodding along nonetheless. “And what if I do? I could show you just how much, if you like…” She bats her eyelids with a faux innocent expression.

Peter groans, the sound deep and guttural. With her unrestrained hand pressed flat against his chest, she can feel the vibration of the sound. “Don’t say shit like that right now,” he warns, “I’ve gotta meet Jubilee for training in fifteen and she’ll never let me live this down.”

Finally, it’s Arcadia’s turn to smirk as she glances down at his hardening erection. “Not my problem, Pietro.”

Something she has come to learn in recent weeks is just how much her boyfriend enjoys being referred to by his given name in any circumstance, but especially when they are alone and domesticated, so to speak. The pressure on her wrist increases for a second before Peter relaxes, exhaling slowly.

“You’re a fucking tease, Arcadia Brodeur.”

“Don’t you forget it.”

He leans forward to capture her lips in a kiss which is so uncharacteristically soft that it takes her by surprise. His tongue moves languidly, glides effortless with hers as though they were destined to come together in some synchronised dance, and a plethora of metaphorical fireworks explode in the small room they are encased in.

“I love you,” he says against her lips, repeating the words a dozen times when his mouth leaves hers to trail wet, open-mouthed kisses across the expanse of the exposed flesh of her neck. His teeth lightly graze her collarbone, then again in the same place with a sharper bite, and Arcadia lets out a sound somewhere between a moan and a shriek at the paroxysms of pleasurable pain it leaves in its wake.

“I love you,” he rasps once more, tongue flicking out to soothe the stinging pain he had caused. Arcadia finds herself missing it, though the expert way that Peter works his tongue against her flesh more than makes up for the loss. “And I want everyone to know that you’re mine.”

He brushes his lips against her palm before finally releasing his hold on her wrist which hangs limply at her side for a moment before both of her arms wrap around his neck, clasped at his nape. The ensuing staring contest is charged with electric energy, the sexual tension so palpable one could almost certainly reach out and touch it.

“I love you too,” she says at long last when the silence has run its course. “I just wish we didn’t continue to hide away like this is something to be ashamed of.”

He cups her cheeks, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the grooves of her cheekbones. “I’m not ashamed of us, koroleva,” he insists firmly, “I just didn’t want to put any strain on our relationship with the whole Daddy Issues thing I’ve got going on here right now.”

“You’re an idiot,” she deadpans, “if you think I wouldn’t want to be here with you every step of the way, Peter. Even if your dad is terrifying…”

“Nah, he’s a softie really,” Peter claims, “otherwise he’d have smothered me in my sleep by now with how annoying I act around him.”

“Just around him?”

Peter mock gasps. “I am hurt, Arcadia. Shocked and hurt.”

“You should get over it pretty fast, Quicksilver,” she teases before unlooping her arms and giving his abs a firm pat. “You’d better go now before Jubilee sends out a search party.”

They both know that she would, so Peter doesn’t object beyond a frustrated sigh.

“Maybe deal with that first, though,” she adds. Her hand reaches out to lightly palm him through his jeans, revelling in the ensuing groan he emits as the heat travels from her cheeks to her clit in a way that causes her knees to quiver. She hooks her thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans to steady herself.

For a moment, neither of them speak. They aren’t confident that they could string together a coherent sentence with their hips grinding together with unadulterated lust; their ragged breaths indiscernible from one another’s so that it seems impossible to know where Peter Maximoff ends and Arcadia Brodeur begins.

“To be continued,” he pants after a minute or so has passed. He takes a step back but doesn’t tear his hooded gaze away from the dishevelled Arcadia. “We’ve got unfinished business here.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Arcadia responds, excitement rushing through her at the thought of continuing their little rendezvous. It’s excruciating to have to wait, but she figures having sex in a classroom with windows overlooking the lake where hoards of people seem to be more often than not probably isn’t the wisest decision, no matter how much she and Peter may enjoy the thrill of sneaking around so carelessly. The soft, red lace of her panties becomes wetter with the thought.

Alas, public makeout sessions are hot in places like the mall or the cinema, not so much at a school.

Pausing just before Peter leaves, she has to ask, “Seriously though; why this room?”

Peter’s smirk returns with a vengeance. It’s unclear whether this is due to whatever answer he may give, or if he’d picked up on the tremor in her voice as she’d asked. “Because Scott and Jean walk past here every day at precisely three pm,” he informs, watching with impish glee as her eyes widen comically, “and would you look at the time. No more hiding, koroleva.”

The clock strikes three hardly a second later and Peter gives a mocking salute before speeding out of the room in the blink of an eye.

“Peter Maximoff, I’m going to fucking kill you!”

Peering through the open doorway, Scott and Jean make no effort to conceal their snickering. “Might want to deal with that hickey first, Cady,” the redhead advises, flouncing away with her boyfriend before Arcadia can formulate a witty retort. She can feel the amusement emanating from the couple as they disappear.

God, she needs to get her own place. And possibly a new boyfriend. First things first: makeup.

[zippocreed501]

'The best fantasy is written in the language of dreams. It is alive as dreams are alive, more real than real … for a moment at least … that long magic moment before we wake.'

'The most important thing for any aspiring writer, I think, is to read! And not just the sort of thing you’re trying to write, be that fantasy, SF, comic books, whatever. You need to read everything. Read fiction, non-fiction, magazines, newspapers. Read history, historical fiction, biography. Read mystery novels, fantasy, SF, horror, mainstream, literary classics, erotica, adventure, satire. Every writer has something to teach you, for good or ill. (And yes, you can learn from bad books as well as good ones — what not to do).'

'And write. Write every day, even if it is only a page or two. The more you write, the better you’ll get. But don’t write in my universe, or Tolkien’s, or the Marvel universe, or the Star Trek universe, or any other borrowed background. Every writer needs to learn to create his own characters, worlds, and settings. Using someone else’s world is the lazy way out. If you don’t exercise those “literary muscles,” you’ll never develop them.'

'Given the realities of today’s market in science fiction and fantasy, I would also suggest that any aspiring writer begin with short stories. These days, I meet far too many young writers who try to start off with a novel right off, or a trilogy, or even a nine-book series. That’s like starting in at rock climbing by tackling Mt. Everest.'

'I hate outlines. I have a broad sense of where the story is going; I know the end, I know the end of the principal characters, and I know the major turning points and events from the books, the climaxes for each book, but I don’t necessarily know each twist and turn along the way. That’s something I discover in the course of writing and that’s what makes writing enjoyable. I think if I outlined comprehensively and stuck to the outline the actual writing would be boring.'

'I get up every day and work in the morning. I have my coffee and get to work. On good days I look up and it’s dark outside and the whole day has gone by and I don’t know where it’s gone. But there’s bad days, too. Where I struggle and sweat and a half hour creeps by and I’ve written three words. And half a day creeps by and I’ve written a sentence and a half and then I quit for the day and play computer games. You know, sometimes you eat the bear and sometimes the bear eats you.'

'I don’t write the chapters in the order that you read them. I do switch. I’ll get in a Tyrion groove, where I’ll write four or five Tyrion chapters, and I hit a stopping point or something like that. Or I’ll realize that I’m way ahead on Tyrion, and I gotta catch up with the other characters. And I’ll go back and switch to Arya or Sansa or something like that. It’s always difficult switching gears, because the characters have very different voices and very different ways of thinking about the world. I’ll be writing up a storm and doing pages every day, and the minute I switch to a different character, that first day it’s like, “Oh, God, I have to read all these characters again. I have Sansa sounding like Tyrion, and that’s not good.” I have to read more of her chapters and immerse myself in Sansa.'

'In creative writing classes in college, the professors will say, ‘Write what you know.’ And that’s often misinterpreted to mean you should write a thinly veiled autobiography. [Like] a graduate student in English Literature at University, writing a story in which the hero is a graduate student in English Literature at University. It would seem to, on the surface, disallow science fiction and fantasy and so forth, since none of us are actually barbarians or knights or lords or even peasants. But I think you have to interpret ‘Write what you know’ much more broadly than that. We’re talking about emotional truth here. We’re talking about reaching inside here to make your characters real. If you’re going to write about a character witnessing a loved one die, you have to dig into yourself, and say, “Did you ever remember losing a loved one?” Even if it’s only a dog that you loved as a child or something. Tap that vein of emotional energy. In some ways, it’s not terribly different from what method actors do…. We observe other people from the outside. The only person we ever really know inside and out is ourselves, and we have to reach into ourselves to find the power that makes great fiction real.'

''I think there are two types of writers, the architects and the gardeners. The architects plan everything ahead of time, like an architect building a house. They know how many rooms are going to be in the house, what kind of roof they’re going to have, where the wires are going to run, what kind of plumbing there’s going to be. They have the whole thing designed and blueprinted out before they even nail the first board up. The gardeners dig a hole, drop in a seed and water it. They kind of know what seed it is, they know if planted a fantasy seed or mystery seed or whatever. But as the plant comes up and they water it, they don’t know how many branches it’s going to have, they find out as it grows. And I’m much more a gardener than an architect.'

'I don’t like the strictly objective viewpoint [in which all of the characters’ actions are described in the third person, but we never hear what any of them are thinking.] Which is much more of a cinematic technique. Something written in third person objective is what the camera sees. Because unless you’re doing a voiceover, which is tremendously clumsy, you can’t hear the ideas of characters. For that, we depend on subtle clues that the directors put in and that the actors supply. I can actually write, “‘Yes you can trust me,’ he lied.” [But it’s better to get inside the characters’ heads.]'

'In order to get inside their skin, I have to identify with them. That includes even the ones who are complete bastards, nasty, twisted, deeply flawed human beings with serious psychological problems. Even them. When I get inside their skin and look out through their eyes, I have to feel a certain – if not sympathy, certainly empathy for them. I have to try to perceive the world as they do, and that creates a certain amount of affection.'

'All fiction, if it’s successful, is going to appeal to the emotions. Emotion is really what fiction is all about. That’s not to say fiction can’t be thoughtful, or present some interesting or provocative ideas to make us think. But if you want to present an intellectual argument, nonfiction is a better tool. You can drive a nail with a shoe but a hammer is a better tool for that. But fiction is about emotional resonance, about making us feel things on a primal and visceral level.'

'I’m a strong believer in telling stories through a limited but very tight third person point of view. I have used other techniques during my career, like the first person or the omniscient view point, but I actually hate the omniscient viewpoint. None of us have an omniscient viewpoint; we are alone in the universe. We hear what we can hear… we are very limited. If a plane crashes behind you I would see it but you wouldn’t. That’s the way we perceive the world and I want to put my readers in the head of my characters.'

'I did my sweat. That’s a technique I learned in Hollywood, where my scripts were always too long. “This is too long,” the studio would say. “Trim it by eight pages.” But I hated to lose any good stuff — scenes, dialogue exchanges, bits of action — so instead I would go through the script trimming and tightening line by line and word by word, cutting out the fat and leaving the muscle. I found the process so valuable that I’ve done the same with all my books since leaving LA. It’s the last stage of the process. Finish the book, then go through it, cutting, cutting, cutting. It produces a tighter, stronger text, I feel. In the case of A DANCE WITH DRAGONS, my sweat — most of it performed after we announced the book’s publication date but before I delivered the final chapters — brought the page count down almost eighty pages all by itself.'

'As for ‘too much description,’ well, opinions differ. We write the books we want to read. And I want to read books that are richly textured and full of sensory detail, books that make me feel as if I am experiencing a story, not just reading it. Plot is only one aspect of telling a tale, and not the most important one. It is the journey that matters, not how fast you arrrive at the destination.'

'That’s my view, anyway. Others writers differ, of course. There are hundreds of books where everything is subordinate to advancing the plot, some of them quite fine, but my work has never been about that, and never will be.'

'Writing is like sausage making in my view; you’ll all be happier in the end if you just eat the final product without knowing what’s gone into it.'

'Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end. Reality is the strip malls of Burbank, the smokestacks of Cleveland, a parking garage in Newark. Fantasy is the towers of Minas Tirith, the ancient stones of Gormenghast, the halls of Camelot. Fantasy flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest Airlines. Why do our dreams become so much smaller when they finally come true?'

'We read fantasy to find the colors again, I think. To taste strong spices and hear the songs the sirens sang. There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La.'

Author Extraordinaire George R R Martin

source: azevedosreviews.wordpress

(Usually I'm searching for hours for writing advice/inspiration from authors old and new, but there is a whole goldmine of advice from George RR Martin out there. And all kudos to him for that).

[duhragonball]

Bulma

Give me a character and I will answer:

Why I like them: Somewhere around 1998, Kurt Busiek took over as the writer for the Iron Man comic.   This was back when Iron Man wasn’t particularly popular and the last two attempts to reboot the guy had failed.   I read an interview in Wizard Magazine where Kurt promoted his upcoming run, and he explained the character this way: Tony Stark is a superhero, an inventor, a ladies’ man, and a billionaire.    You could have a blast writing a comic book about any one of those four things, but he’s all four.    I may have gotten those four items wrong, partly because it’s been 22 years, and partly because it was more famous when Robert Downey Junior echoed that pitch in 2012.    Take away the armor, and what is he?   A billionaire genius philanthropist.   

My point is that this is the appeal to Bulma as well.    When we first meet her, she’s an adventurer, but then we find out she invented the device that lets her locate the Dragon Balls.  And her mission is a romantic quest, so she’s like the heroine in a romance story.    Then we meet her parents, and it turns out she’s a wealthy heiress.    Well, I’m assuming Dr. Brief doesn’t plan on leaving his fortune to all of his pets, but you get the idea.  

There’s a lot of versatility to the character.   Some arcs barely make use of her, but others take full advantage.    You can plop her in almost any scenario and it works.    You want to write her at a fancy charity dinner?   She’d fit right in.   You want her teaching shop class in your high school AU?   No problem at all.   You want her to seduce a bad guy?     You want her to shoot a bad guy?    You want her to be the bad guy?   It all works.  

The main thing people dislike about Bulma is the way she treated Yamcha when they were together, and she’s kind of a jerk a lot of the time.    Fair point, but I think this adds to the character.   If she were sweet as could be and a rich, attractive polymath, she’d be downright insufferable.    Also, her attitude plays off of the compassion she shows through the series.   I can’t explain her behavior around Yamcha, but she did offer free room and board to the entire population of Namek, so I feel like that needs to be taken into consideration.

Why I don’t: In the first... hundred or so episodes of DBZ, Bulma doesn’t get a lot of chances to shine, despite all the screentime they gave her.   Early into my DBZ-watching experience, I found her to be something like a shriller version of TMNT’s April O’Neil, a sidekick whose job was to look cute and get into danger so the good guys could save her.   She really doesn’t get back into her groove until she returns to Earth, and once I saw those episodes, and her time in the original Dragon Ball, the character began to make a lot more sense.   Really, the Bulma in DBZ #1 through 108 was probably intended to demonstrate how out-of-hand the situation was.   She fixed the scouter and then it exploded.   She fixed Nappa’s spaceship and it exploded.   She fixed Kami’s spaceship and then Namek exploded.    She just couldn’t keep up with the crisis. 

Favorite episode (scene if movie):

Not exactly any one episode, but one of my favorite bits in the Red Ribbon Army Sagas is that the RRA has their own Dragon Radar, but it’s not portable, or anywhere near as precise as the one Bulma invented.    It’s Goku’s biggest advantage during that conflict, and when it breaks, there’s literally no one else who can fix it.    Those magic babies from Arale could make a new one, but I’m pretty sure they only did that by copying the design or something.   And the RRA assumes that Goku must have an entire team of scientists providing him with logistical support, and that Master Roshi must be their leader, since he’s so old.  

Also, near the end of the arc, Bulma needs to call Yamcha on the phone, but Roshi doesn’t have one, and then Turtle suggests that Bulma should just build one from scratch, since she had just finished building a robot drone a few episodes earlier.    And she’s like “Oh, yeah, I forgot I knew how to do that.”

Favorite season/movie: The Androids/Cell arc is a big deal because it has two Bulmas, and her son is in it too.   

And this is what I mean when I talk about versatility.    That Super Dragon Ball Heroes series has two Gokus and two Vegetas, and I have no idea why, because they’re exactly the same, except one pair does SSJ4 and the other does Super Saiyan Blue.   Bulma’s got more layers, so in a story like this, you can have 30-something Bulma care for an infant son and tackle logistical problems while she figures out her relationship with Vegeta, while the 50-something Bulma in the future can be this strong-yet-gentle post-apocalyptic survivalist, who hopes for a better tomorrow as she longs for her fallen friends.  

Favorite line: I’m gonna stray from the canon for a minute, because I’m having trouble coming up with something, but in DBZ Abridged, when she’s arguing with Vegeta during his training session, they just start shouting “Fuck you!” at each other.    Then she stops and says: “My room.    Ten minutes.” 

And holy shit, the delivery on that line was incredible. I knew they’d try to do something to set up their relationship, but there’s no footage to do that with, so they did it all with one line and some killer VA work.

Favorite outfit: This is a big, big wardrobe to choose from, but I’m partial to the one she wore in the Imperfect Cell Saga.

I can’t really explain the appeal, but I like this hairstyle and the clothing looks like authentic stuff you could actually buy at a store, which just makes it feel more real, even though it’s not any more detailed than her other outfits.    I’m not sure that makes any sense.    The trucker hat looks cute on her, let’s leave it there.

OTP: You know, there’s a lot of chemistry between Bulma and Yajirobe, and even though it’s kind of a rarepair, I can’t help but-- Okay, it’s her and Vegeta.   I’ll stop messing around.   

Brotp: Definitely her and Goku.  I’m imagining the set up to the DBS Broly movie going like this.

“Hey, I’m gonna invite Goku along on our trip.    That way you can fight him when you get bored.”

“Why do you keep asking him to tag along I can’t stand him.” 

“Yeah, but I like him and I paid for the resort, so I guess you gotta deal with it.” 

“...”  

Then he shows up and she sends him on some ridiculous mission to search the ocean floor for sunken treasure or something.   

Head Canon: Future Bulma does tech support in Toki Toki/Conton City, because Xenoverse is canon and the Goku Black Saga can just bugger right off because it never happened.   

She shows up from time to time to check on all the Capsule Corp tech in the city, and she drops by just to say hi to her boy, and also she has coffee with my Mary Sue OC, because Future Bulma appreciates how tough and cool my writing is.

Unpopular opinion: The Vegebul ship probably gets way too much attention.  Not that it’s a bad ship or that it doesn’t deserve the attention, but it feels like a buffet where all anyone gets is ranch dressing.    They just ignore the rest of the spread and fill an entire bowl with ranch and head back to the table to drink it.   Then they come right back and line up for another helping.  

I’m not knocking it.   I have a Vegebul calendar in my kitchen.   But it reminds me of how the “comics fandom” in the late 90′s was really just an X-Men fandom that acknowledged that other comic books hypothetically existed.

They’re gonna come after me now, aren’t they?

A wish: A lifetime supply of strawberries does sound kind of nice...

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: I hope we’re done with Bulma’s Resurrection F outfit for good.   The cowboy boots, no, we’re done with that. 

5 words to best describe them: Five would never be enough.

My nickname for them: Don’t have one.   Vegeta calls her “woman”, but I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t go over well if I started doing that.

[memepipboy]

Sorry if this is a bit random, but do you have any tips for comic artists that are starting out? More specifically finding the motivation to keep going with a long-term project like with Dependent? Because i've been having trouble just starting out and getting around to working on my own comic, even though i have a lot of ideas for it and DO want to work on it...

Hmmm

I think in terms of advice, I always say: find a working drawing and posting schedule for you, if that means no schedule, awesome some people work better without a deadline (me) but some people like the stability

In terms of starting, sometimes you just gotta do it. Most including myself have the mindset of “it’s not gonna be good, I’m gonna regret the first page, I need to get better at art before I start” and truth is, your first page will usually be your worst because you’re feeling it out and just getting started. You will improve as you write and as you draw, sometimes you may change the style in the middle and that is perfectly okay. Usually the only frame of reference we have for comics are professionally made and paid ones on webtoons or big time companies (ex. marvel), and the hardest thing to remember is that this is a hobby we do for fun. Usually that helps me make it less intimidating for me, that this isn’t my main source of income and I’m really only doing it for myself, yknow?

Honestly, motivation is a cruel bitch LOL some days you can draw for hours on end and other days the idea of picking up a pencil will make you wanna throw up, and of course that bleeds into your comic schedule. In my experience, forcing yourself only frustrates and makes it worse, sometimes the best thing you can do is just accept it and take however long you need to get back into the groove. I like listening to music you can make music videos in your head to and sometimes that gets me out of a rut HAHA

I know this sounds very lax, but because of the long-term project thing, my best advice is take it slow, because it will take you a long time and pushing yourself may not be the best idea for it. Once you get into the groove of it, you will get more excited for seeing peoples reactions to your story and art, and that’ll inspire you along the way.

[koiantlers]

I was super inspired to write thanks to THIS AMAZING COMIC by @skeleslime-phantom !!  Please go look at all his other artwork, it’s all so good.

The Conductor is used to doing things on his own.

He taught himself to fight, years ago, back when he was a wee chick with even bigger anger issues. He learned to cook in order to help his parents out, after he saw how hard it was for his mother to move, or how tired his father was. He bought his first camera with his own money, doing a job he hated.

And when his wife left, leaving him with a lil one, he took care of her all by himself as well.

He has no issue watching his grandchildren, happy to do so for his daughter. He can focus on them, feeding them, instead of thinking about how she's getting weaker, her feathers are falling off more, her eyes are dimmer-

No, none of that. The Conductor has to focus on his grandchildren.

"Clocking out already, darling?" 

The Conductor snaps, "None of ya business!" as a reflex, already on edge from today. But he glances at Grooves, and continues, "...But yeh. Gotta go watch the grand kids for a bit."

"Did something come up again? Is she…" Grooves asks him, and the Conductor hates how much softer his voice gets. And at the same time, his shoulders tense at the word again and that fatherly instinct kicks up inside of him.

"Save it, Grooves," he snarls, "don't pretend to to care." The Conductor won't listen to someone talk about his family like this, especially his daughter, who has worked harder than anyone else, especially DJ Grooves. "That's just cruel-"

He's jerked back, and he realizes his coat has been grabbed. He snaps his gaze up at Grooves, ready to yell at him, but the rockhopper is looking at him oddly, in a way that makes the Conductor pause.

"I don't need to 'pretend' if my sympathy is real. I'm finished for the day too, so if you need a helping hand, then you got one." They're close enough that the Conductor can see his eyes through the hideous sunglasses, those bright blue eyes. It makes him think of their sparring not even a week ago, when Grooves got the upperhand and won. And the Conductor had stayed on that floor long after Grooves left, staring up at the ceiling as he thought back on his rival.

"Okay?" Grooves speaks and it jolts the Conductor back. His head is screaming no, that he doesn't need this gaudy primadonna's help. But the Conductor keeps glancing at those eyes, and he ends up sighing, "Fine. If ye want to come so badly, I guess the kiddos wouldn't mind another pair o' watchful eyes."

"Happy to help, darling." Grooves has an annoying smile on his face as he follows the Conductor, and the owl chooses to ignore, walking slightly faster than normal.

--

The last kid has been put to bed. Despite the feeling of dread in his stomach, the Conductor feels at ease, for once not feeling so tired after spending time with his grandchildren. 

Though, he supposes Grooves is to thank for that.

The penguin is a natural with children, the Conductor noticed. Plays with them easily and is great at distracting them, with his glasses or bright coat. The Conductor kept watching him, something warm settling inside him as he sees Grooves pick up his grandchildren, calling them lil darlings.

He huffs a laugh. Little darlings, right. Their babysitter would get a kick out of that.

It's late now, and the Conductor knows he should be shoving Grooves out, mumble a thanks and be on with his life.

"Ye want dinner?" He asks instead, and he feels smug at the surprised look Grooves gives him, only for his heart to flutter at the smile he gives him, "Never can turn down food, darling."

So, the Conductor finds himself cooking dinner for two. Grooves hovers around him in the kitchen, and he finds her doesn't mind it. He cooks them steak, something easy, and stares at it instead of Grooves.

"Yer good with kids." He finds himself saying after a moment.

"Heh. Well...had a lot of little cousins growing up."

"No kids?" Conductor glances at him, and he does find himself a little surprised. Grooves is a peckneck, of course, but he's by no means ugly. Nice soft blue feathers, broad shoulders, a soothing voice...Grooves is by all standards, a handsome bird. 

"Ah, well...you know, guys like me can't really have kids." Grooves laughs, a nervous thing the Conductor barely hears.

The owl furrows his brows and looks at him. "Like you?"

"Gay."

Oh. "Ah." The Conductor clears his throat, and he feels so suddenly flustered.

Him and Grooves go quiet, and the owl hands him a plate of food. They sit next to each other on the couch, shoulders touching.

This feels odd, sitting like this, in his daughters home. Grooves eats quietly, and the Conductor's chest keeps fluttering, every time they brush against each other.

"You'd be a good parent." He says, suddenly, and can't bare to see Grooves expression. He sets his plate aside, and instead finds himself fiddling with his hands. "I, er, appreciate...you helpin' with the kids."

He does look at Grooves now, and his heart jumps into his throat. The penguin is smiling at him, that smile all lopsided and dopey, as his blue eyes are soft. He can see them clearly now, with the shades set aside because of one of his kiddos playing with them. 

He's suddenly very aware how close is he to Grooves. He shifts a bit, angling himself to face him. Grooves is still smiling, and says in that lovely voice of his, "Thank you, darling. You're not so bad yourself."

That teasing near the end gets the Conductor swallowing hard, feeling himself heat up because of it. Grooves is so close now, their beaks almost touching, and the Conductor should say something back, but all he can do is open and close his beak.

Grooves' eyes dart down to the Conductor's beak. "Darling?" He mumbles, quietly. The Conductor is gripping his jacket, and Grooves closes his eyes as the owl leans forward-

"Pepaw!"

Both the Conductor and Grooves jump, the Conductor shoving himself away from Grooves. One of his little tykes smile at him, crawling out from the kitchen.

Oh bloody hell, "Hidin' in cabinets again?" He huffs at the little one, who giggles at being picked up. He snuggles into the Conductor's chest, who shyly glances at Grooves.

The penguin stares, but manages to clear his throat. "Heh, uh...ahem, best put him to bed."

"Yeah." He says, and looks away. He quickly walks away, not at all thinking about what him and Grooves were about to do.

It was just the heat of the moment, he tells himself.

[marielambs-corner]

(Maybe should start with one of the listed AUs but I can't take this off my head so bare with me and I'll add it later)

The Emperor's New Groove AU

Joey as Kuzco

Susie and Sammy as Yzma and Kronk

Henry and Linda as Pacha and Chicha

Lacie as the Mudka's waitress

Wally as the Mudka's chef (that got Outta there)

Grant as Rudy the Old Man (trying to reason with Joey about their expenses)

Lost Ones are the guards (turned into Lost Ones)

Jack (the swollen one searcher) as the squirrel that was offended by Joey and summons a Horde of Searchers

Plot Points

Joey is bitchy. Threw Grant out because of his boring and annoying meetings about finances. And also called Henry to fire him since "he wasn't needed anymore" and "5 men could do his job by paying each a fifth of what Henry earns".

Joey fired Susie, and like in the movie, that blows all up.

Susie wanted to poison Joey and, since they already had the "dating thing", would pass as his heartbroken fiancé who now would deserve all of Joey's possesions, including the Studio and the Ink Machine.

Sammy gets it wrong, and instead turns Joey into a Perfect!Bendy™, and knocks him out with a dust pan.

Susie demands him to get rid of him. Sammy again screws up and ends up leaving the Bendy!Joey with Henry's stuff, which Henry picks up and he then leaves the studio (that might work as well)

When Joey wakes up and Henry finds him, is all confusion and fear until Joey recognizes him and realizes he's way shorter than Henry (and for some reason was watching him lopsided even when he was standing perfectly straight (except that his floating head is rolled to the side))

Joey blames this on Henry, after all he was just fired that day, and decides that Henry must be the one who returns him to the studio (he brought him there in the first place, And he cannot go out in public like that, people would know about the Machine). Henry refuses, leaving Joey the only other option he had to get back: through the machine itself (this is where realities kinda melt in one another, like The Studio actually Is located inside the Machine, but needs to have some sort of inputs and outputs with reality so they could move along) (ehh, gotta define it later. Thing is that the jungle sequences are kinda like the InGame studio but comical).

I already told about the searchers horde thanks to Jack.

Henry would throw Joey's minute body to a high place so he could reach a rope and give it to Henry (Joey takes his chance and leaves him in the middle of the danger)

Trapped in the river and cascading from it, well, the Ink River, but messier with no boat.

Henry making Joey pass as his child in the Lounge Room AKA restaurant.

Sammy and Susie following them there, Sammy somehow trapped as the chef there??? (Sorry, but is hard yet HILARIOUS to picture Sammy being so obliging even with what sounds like the demands of a capricious "kid" xDDD).

None of them realizing they were next to each other.

Henry taking Joey out of there and trying to tell him that Susie was trying to get rid of him.

"What are you talking about? She's my girlfriend! She'd never!! ...You, on the other side..." Aaaand they parted ways.

Joey then finds the truth and can't find Henry anywhere so now that he's a toon and after he mops about it all boohoo me and all that, he decides he'd go with the few toons that roam the studio: the butcher gang. They pay no mind to him.

He finds Henry again and apologizes and try to rethink their strategy.

Aaaaaand don't know how to adapt the rest of the part where they use Linda's help to slow Susie and Sammy at their place while Henry and Joey make their way back to the studio and the Main Ink Machine. But Yzma convinces the guards (turned into Losts Ones) to attack them, lot of nonsensical shenanigans, turning Joey into every possible toon. But finally Susie takes one last that seemed to make her all powerful and scary (shadow among the cloud of ink fumes being that one of Malice), to finally being revealed as some sort of Baby Toon Alice. And Sammy finally doing the "right" thing (basically choosing one manipulator over the other) and helps to (accidentally) defeat Susie and Joey finally gets back to normal.

Aaaaaaand that's all I got in mind. More than anything I just like the mental image of it more than taking it seriously. But here you have it~!

*End of Lamb's Rant!*

[dragongirl642]

Sunstreaker/Sideswipe x human!female!reader (bayverse) part 5

Recap:

Once he was calm, we hurried to collect the Allspark. That humming in my chest, just kept getting stronger and now it was accompanied by a sense of urgency from Starblaze but also this feeling of awesome power.

One thought crossed my mind. 'I got a bad feeling about this.'

-------------------------------------Recap end------------------------------------

I was riding an ATV following the transport units. My speciality is mobile battle. The modified ATV's two sub-automatic machine guns being my best friends in battle. Closely following my cousin's truck, I could clearly see Lennox sat in front of me, through the open back of the vehicle. He was briefing the unit on possible hostiles and giving the oh-so-positive, 'it's better to live to fight another day, than die doing a heroic stunt that gets you killed' kind of speech.

The Allspark and Sam were riding with Bumblebee up ahead. We were heading to Mission City; whilst there it should be easier to contact the copters and get the hell out of the Decepticon's reach. Keller agreed with the idea, so here we were.

Starblaze and the twins sent me encouraging pulses over our bond. 'Wait...I can feel the twins now too...must be a Gaian thing.'

I was busy watching William until I heard the roar of engines ahead. Holding the handlebars of my ATV steady, I twisted to look behind me. A blue Peterbuilt semi-trailer truck with flame decals (Optimus Prime), a silver Modified Pontiac Solstice GXP (Jazz), a black Modified GMC Topkick C4500 (Ironhide) and a Yellow Hummer H2 Search and Rescue SUV (Ratchet) were coming the other way. The songs bursting out of Bee's radio signalling that these were the other Autobots. They passed us and I heard the squeal of tires as they made u-turns at breakneck speed. 'But then again they don't have necks to break in that form'. They began gaining on us from behind.

My ATV's inbuilt radio crackled, orders to fall back and hold the rear; I complied. I slowed and allowed them to pass me. William threw me a thumbs up from the back of his truck, I sent back a small wave. We continued in this formation, Mission city in our sights.

As we joined the main highway, civilian cars either side. I heard metallic clicking behind me. Yet again I twisted to look and wished I hadn't. 'Scrap'. I faced forward and hit the throttle. Shooting forward just in time to avoid the metallic fist that came down were I had been moments before. I powered forward passed the Semi as it transformed into a tall, powerful looking Autobot. 'The red and blue really suit him'. He began skating and turned back to face the threat. I weaved my way through the other Autobots and came up behind Lennox. He looked at me as I jokingly called, "Definitely a Decepticon...get ready to have some fun", as I flicked the switch on my ATV's dash to power up my guns. The blur of motion as the chambers spun and set, hitting home. One recruit went completely white. 'Hope he doesn't throw up...too late...that's gonna be a mess to clean up later'.

We made it to the city. The communication with the Nellis Air Force base lifting spirits; help was on the way. The first transport units sending out fire teams to clear buildings and set up sniper points. The Autobots transformed and we spread out. I parked further up the street with my guns pointed towards the highway. The whine of an F-22 Raptor was heard. 'Thank God they're here...wait that was too quick, something's wrong'. I opened my mouth to call my cousin just as smoke flares were sent up. The Raptor changing course, heading straight for our position. I set my guns, plotting its trajectory. Good thing too...it was a Decepticon. The Black Autobot, Ironhide, called a name; "Starscream". Bumblebee and Ironhide picked up a truck as the jet transformed into a grey Seeler, 'seekey, seekser, oh...seeker I think it was'. Ironhide ordering everyone to "fall back". Starscream shot at them and the resulting explosion almost blinded me. My battle goggles tinting automatically. As the smoke cleared I could see that Bumblebee had been decapitated. Ironhide had been blasted backwards so poor Bee took the brunt of the shot.

Starscream stood over him, ready to give the finishing blow. Ironhide was coming around and the other Autobots were already springing into action, but an idea came to me, 'stupid but brilliant, as they say'.

I gunned the throttle, shooting forward at speed. I opened fire. Bullets distracting the seeker as I did one of those idiotic heroic stunts Lennox was talking about. Using a crushed car as a ramp, I leapt with my ATV, straight for the astonished Starscream. Knuckles white with the effort it took to stay seated as the wheels of my ATV struck his faceplate. I kept the throttle on as they gave him tyre burn. Also sending me into a backwards flip. 'This was not part of the plan'. Starscream fell back and holding his face transformed and flew off while I held on for dear life to my ATV. Thankfully it landed right way up, so I wasn't about to be a (y/n) pancake yet. But the resounding crack upon impact wasn't the most reassuring sound in the world.

Lennox sending me the radio version of an angry face. I just sent him back the radio version of a wink face. 'You gotta have a sense of humour in this job, otherwise I would've gone mad years ago'.

The sounds of battle crashed around me as I gunned the throttle once more. The familiar feeling of adrenaline filled me as I differed to my training, the battlefield becoming a blur.

I was moving, running, ducking through showers of bullets and firing my second sub-automatic machine gun, (I'd taken them off the ATV when it was scrapped by a Decepticon bullet shower). Just as I was about to turn a blast of wind rushed past, accompanied by a figure, 'no make that two'. The silver Autobot, Jazz, was being carried off by Megatron. The huge 'and I mean HUGE' scary looking leader of the Decepticons. Jazz was fighting bravely but I could already tell he was going to die. You would have to be able to fly to rescue him. 'WAIT A MINUTE'.

I ran for the building they were heading towards. Dropping my gun, I performed the transformation sequence as I ran. "Gaian fusion, partner up!" The transformation was quicker this time, maybe because I was in the middle of a battle.

With a powerful downthrust of my wings I was airborne and heading for the two mechs.

"You want a piece of me", I could hear Jazz's taunts. I raised my bow and drew back the string a glowing arrow taking form. It was growing the longer I held the bow taught, but I didn't give it time to grow. I let loose just as Megatron began to reply, "No I want..." The arrow hit his left servo. He yelled in pain and dropped Jazz, grabbing his injured servo with his good hand. On reflex I dived. My fingers finding the grooves in his armour, I took hold, and beat my wings furiously to slow us down. It worked and I deposited him on the floor. Floating before him I gave a quick nod before spotting my cousin over his shoulder.

Mouth agape, all surprised, he was quite the sight. Staring at me like I'd just turned into a 'wait'. The comic picture was broken by the sight of an injured brawl returning to his feet and aiming his gun for Lennox's unprotected back. I swooped forward. Shield at the ready I blocked the incoming fire. Ironhide, Ratchet and Jazz rushing back in to re-engage.

"How?...What?...When?...WHAT?" Lennox was spluttering and gaping like a fish. I composed myself, ready to tell him everything when he honestly surprised me. "You know what, tell me after we don't die" and he ran off.

The blur of battle setting in once more...this time though...I fought using my powers. Slash and parry, let loose a volley of small arrows, block, shield at the ready and begin again.

Startled once more out of my trance, by an almighty crash and the audible cracks of something very important. Glancing over my shoulder, Megatron is standing there, Optimus injured, sitting in a small pile of rubble, leaning against a damaged building and Sam running for his life. All the nearby soldier's radios crackled to life, Lennox's voice sounding from all around. #(y/n)...protect Sam#

I took the order to heart. 'So sweet of him to include me though' I thought, and vaulted over several cars to run beside the teen; along with Ironhide and Ratchet. Sam threw me an incredulous look but kept running. A Decepticon made a swing for him, raising my shield up to block the attack we slid under the blade. We kept running. The pounding in my ears almost drowning out the sound of Starscream engaging our two Autobot protectors.

A thump crashed behind, "Give me the cube boy!" Megatron was chasing us, 'well that's just fragging great now isn't it'. We didn't see the SUV till it was too late. I pushed Sam ahead, he fell and dropped the cube. A wave of power being discharged, hitting me and several machines; bringing them to life and causing general mayhem. While I dropped to a knee in pain. Heat flaring within my chest. The feeling of a sparkbeat began, then failed, then began again.

"Go Sam" I choked out before collapsing.

He ran on, darting into a relatively undamaged building. I lay there, wings twitching and body wracked by painful spasms. Images flashing through my mind, a planet wracked by war, a desperate plan, a secret, a void, "You will do my will"...and a dark voice. "They will never follow you brother". I watched helpless as two vast beings fought. Then the one who spoke last held out a hand, 13 pinpricks of light appeared and formed into, what I recognised, as cybertronians.

"Behold my Primes, they will be your undoing brother unless you turn back from this foolish path, return...please". The last part almost a whisper.

"NEVER!" The dark voice ringing in the void. It hurt.

A flash and the dark voice screamed, in pain and anger...slowly it faded, drifting away, swallowed by the void. I felt that kinder presence turn to me, "What you have seen young one, learn from it. You have felt the power of the Allspark and carry part of it within you, use it wisely." I felt myself being dragged away.

"Wait...what do you mean?" I called but no answer came. I was falling into a dark all-consuming abyss. Then a small spot of light appeared. I recognised it before it spoke. "Come back...partner" Starblaze. I followed and the light grew enveloping me.

I opened my eyes. I was lying on the ground, cheek pressed to the hard asphalt. Just in time to see my cousin perform another one of those heroic stunts'...on a motorcycle no less'.

Blackout fell and I slowly sat up. A headache slowly fading. 'When you're in the middle of a battle, you're not supposed to black out and hope for the best.' Silently berating myself, I stumbled to my feet, a cascading waterfall of dust and rubble falling of my body. 

Swaying I summoned my bow. Pulling back the string and taking aim. I could feel the F-22 raptor pilots panicking above as Starscream appeared in their midst. Lennox and the ground forces fired on Megatron, so did the remaining raptors. They were trying to expose his spark, but though he fell back there was still the protective layer of his spark chamber to contend with. 

I released the arrow. It struck home, burning through the final protective layer. Megatron howled in pain, Optimus using that moment to strike him. Grappling the two titans almost crushed Sam. I saw Optimus's dermas move but I didn't hear what he said. Nevertheless, Sam thrust his hands upwards, pushing the Allspark into Megatron's spark. Another white hot flare built in my chest and Megatron's spark shone and pulsed erratically. The Allspark burning up. Eventually it went dark and Megatron fell to the road, offline.

I ran over to Lennox, out of the corner of my eye, spotting Sam pick something up from the ground. He looked at me with a smile. I was not prepared to be picked up and spun like some doll by an over energised cousin. 'He's still in a battle high...great' I internally rolled my eyes.

When he put me down, he gave me a look up and down. I cocked my hips, giggled and gave a spin to show off my new look. My wings buffeted his face and he promptly sneezed. 'Who said I don't have a childish side'. The other members of the unit were looking at me in awe. One cheeky lad at the back even wolf-whistled.

"Ok, now I've seen it, is there any way to unsee it" he stated.

I performed the motions while calling "Power down" and with a flash of light I was back in uniform.

I watched as the Autobots and Sam gathered around Prime for a speech. I just smiled and turned back to my cousin. Opening my mouth to speak and finally explain my whole crazy story when I felt a tug within my heart.

Starblaze exuding waves of calm while the twins were frantically asking me whether I was ok. I responded yes and then their alt-modes just rolled, all calm like, out of a nearby alley and transformed.

With panicked yells everyone raised their weapons at the newcomers. "Whoa, hold your fire, hold your fire!" I called running in front of everyone, arms raised in the classic I-am-defending-this-person position. Lennox marched, like two steps, over to me, "Who are these guys?" He then studied me up and down, noting how I was calm and obviously protecting the trio, he rolled his weight onto his back foot and leisurely said, "Friends of yours?"

'How does he stay so calm?' I questioned in my head. I gestured behind me, "This is Starblaze, my Gaian partner and his siblings, the twins, Starocean and Starwave. I'll explain later Cousin..." I put on the most sweet voice I could, "I have something I need to discuss with dear Starblaze here." now I turned to Starblaze, "AND WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN, I'VE BEEN FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE AND YOU'VE BEEN CHILLIN' IN AN ALLEY THIS WHOLE TIME!" I was going into rant mode. "YOU COULD HAVE DECIDED TO HELP AT ANY MOMENT BUT NO..." Starblaze raised a hand for silence, cutting me off mid-rant.

He just looked at me, completely unimpressed, and said, "You're a competent fighter, I said we would come if you were in danger, you weren't. You are still alive are you not?"

'Oh that just takes the cake' I geared up for a real rant, I could feel my face going red as blood rushed to it. Some of the other soldiers, having realised these were friends, wore broad grins on their faces, just waiting for the show to begin.

"Should we run", said Starwave. "Probably" replied his twin and they slowly backed off hands raised, leaving their older brother to face his partner's fury.

Of course they didn't get off that easy,

.

.

.

The Autobots had noticed the new arrivals.