#(alternatively I could draw just one for the whole series though)

[maideninorange]

Sometimes I debate to myself it'd be cool to draw covers for my fics using my limited drawing skills, but then I never have any ideas on what to do for them, being too busy brainstorming OC art I'll never draw...

[moondirti]

animalic (4)

← chapter three // series masterlist

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader rating: mature word count: 2.5k summary: things don't go according to plan warnings: enemies to lovers, light bondage, sexual tension, arousal, choking, canon-typical violence, dub-con elements, paralysis, suicidal ideation, self-hatred, angst, miguel o'hara is not nice, no use of y/n notes: y'all. i promise we are getting somewhere. i promise. lmk what you think tho cuz i thrive off comments

“Lyla?”

While you’re – regrettably – unable to make good on your promise to phase through the floor, you catch yourself hoping it splits to swallow you whole instead. It certainly would be a better alternative to the purgatory you currently face. 

“Lyla? Come in, Lyla.” 

Feeble rays of light filter in through the weathered windows, their reach slowly growing as night surrenders to the wakings of dawn. Variegated motes bob lazily, suspended upon the streams of sun, quivering back and forth between a range of countless colours. Paralysed and splayed atop the frigid, hard ground of the empty store-lot, you try counting them all for lack of anything else to do. Pink, green, orange, gold. You wonder what force chooses the order, whether it’s sequenced to fit some plan of high design. 

“¡Ay, coño–”

Slowly, you let yourself scrutinise other things, too. The scent of neglect that permeates the stale air, particularly pungent around the entryway. You trace the yellow-brown mass that runs along the door’s hinge edge, and attribute the vaguely muddy smell to rot. Then, it’s the glint of shattered glass, winking at you from lost corner’s of the room. They look narrow, far too inconvenient to clean out with a standard broom. You revel in the understanding that whoever had been in charge of scouring the wreckage appears to share your habit of quick quitting.

It’s only when your vision begins to water do you divert your attention to the situation at hand. Last you needed to blink, it took half a minute for the command to register, and even longer for the motor neurons in your eyelids to act. By the time you eventually got them closed, you’d already started contemplating whether his venom would be the death of you. 

(Lame end to a lame life.)

It didn’t take a genius to figure out, though. You know that, if he wanted to, he could’ve kept imbuing you with the substance until your body was no longer able to perform the basic mechanisms necessary to sustain life. He could have kept his fangs lodged deep into your neck – encroached upon your stuttering veins, bathing in the ichor that flowed – until he felt you go limp, concentrated with his poison. It would have been a denouement to his problems – right there, easy, sandwiched between him and the wall – but it wasn’t. Because he didn’t. 

Just like he didn’t let you plummet to your death that day at the quarry, or strangle you while you were unconscious back at HQ. 

So, no. It doesn’t take a genius to acknowledge that Miguel O’Hara doesn’t want you dead. As he fiddles with his malfunctioning watch, you endeavour to come up with a divisive list as to why that is. 

One: you’ve charmed him. The notion is almost funny enough to elicit a snort, given that you weren’t cast in an immovable anathema.

Two: he’s a good guy. Somehow, this option seems less viable to you than the first. 

You find your third prospect slinging from the threads of a fraying memory. 

You’d been a student, before – attending college at a reputable institute close to home. It’s easy to forget what it was like most nights: cramped in that two hundred square foot dorm, borderline losing it as you tried to validate your claims on matter-antimatter rockets and their potential contribution to interstellar travel. There were concerns of total annihilation, and sourcing, and an array of other limitations – that which you’d dedicated your academic career to drawing up proposals for. It’s laughable now; the stress and theories blurring together to form a vague picture of your long-lost ambition. 

You have a hard time conjuring what exact future you were so hopeful for, but the lamp by your roommate’s bed remains clear in your mind’s eye. Warm-white, comforting. For as long as you were awake, tapping away at a never-ending thesis, she’d work through the latest volume of her beloved murder mystery anthology. 

It was the night before your start at an internship with Alchemax that the series came to a close. Her aggravated screams still ring fresh behind the clouded pane of time. You had thrown your pillow at her in a belligerent plea.

(You wanna elaborate?

The suspect behind every case was shot!

So? Isn’t that a good thing?

No, dumbass. It means the detectives fucking lost! They’ll never be able to prove how right they were.)

Admittedly, you know very little about Miguel, but you have an idea of what matters most to him. It’s entirely possible, then, that he refuses to kill you for what your death would do to negate his efforts thus far. 

“Oye,” 

Your mental traipse is reeled in when the devil himself snaps at you. Steadily, your pupils roll up to look at him. 

“I need your day pass.” 

You continue to stare. His jaw clenches. 

“Because of your little headbutt outside, my watch is busted. My only hope of fixing it is by using the parts of your day pass.” 

Is he asking? Does he expect you to respond? 

You can’t fool yourself into believing he’s that ignorant. 

But Miguel stays on standby, scanning your lax form. He takes in the webs that wrap around your waist, branching out to your thighs and shoulders, restraining your arms behind your back. When his eyes meet yours again, the reluctant question you see glaze over them pushes the recognition to the forefront of your mind. 

He is asking. 

Or, notifying – making sure you’re aware of what he’s about to do. 

God, you wish you could speak. You’ve never come up with so much to say without promptly blurting it out before. Irritation and amusement rip at one another within you, locked in a brutal dogfight fated to have no real winner. How hypocritical of him to pick and choose when your treatment takes priority over his mission; you’re littered in marks that all point to his prior negligence of such subtle humanity. Four stabs above your wrist, a pounding migraine at your temple. If it weren’t for your paralysed stomach, you’re certain you would have regurgitated your innards as consequence to the concussion he’s given you.  

But, oh. 

How funny would it be if you agreed. To let him discover the harrowing truth for himself. 

Deliberately, you muster an affirming blink.

Miguel's weariness escapes him in a heavy sigh, the weight of it etched upon his expression. Thick brows furrow, evidence to his age creasing between them, before he sinks down with a purposeful grace and carefully flips you over. Despite the resentment that festers in your gut, you can’t help but hiss a mental sigh of relief at the service it does to your elbows, which had begun throbbing in response to the pressure that the hardwood floor exerted.

From that point onward, it becomes a guessing game of sorts; you can’t see him, nor are you able to tilt your head and confirm your assumptions as to what he’s doing. Deprived of your most reliable sense, the others strain to fill the gaps in your knowledge, drawing upon every available cue; the sound of his miniscule grunts, the warmth of his skin – that which penetrates through his gloves. You’re alarmed into attempted action when the characteristic rip of his claws equipping pierces the strained air – your body powerless in addressing the adrenaline it secretes – until the spider-man touches his forefinger to your palm.

“Relax.” He all but commands. “I’m just cutting the webs off.” 

You’ve no reason to trust him, of course, but you can’t exactly pitch a complaint right now. 

(Perhaps it’s in your best interests to ignore how easy he’d been able to read you.)

A few moments of jostling ensue, before he withdraws with a curse. Your arms remain ensnared in the tight restraints, the ache that smarts your skin all too real for the continued predicament to be illusory. An assortment of jokes occur to you. 

Can’t get it up? 

In your peripheral, you catch him weighing his options. The pause is laden with a sticky indecision – this change in placement, you realise, exacerbates the already difficult task of breathing for you. 

While you fixate on that fact, he seems to come to a conclusion. With one swift manoeuvre, he positions himself astride your thighs, straddling the deadened extremities, and reaches forward to push your wrists apart. You’re quick to catch on to his intention, how the arrangement gives him better leverage, yet–

His groyne presses into the swell of your ass, worsening with every bid to sever the webbing. It’s impossible not to notice, especially not when the seam of your jeans start to shift in tandem, smoothing over your clothed core.  It’s not exactly ecstasy, far from it — no rainbow blooms, tingling gold from your toes to your nose – but it’s been ages since you were last roused like this. Enough for it to feel brand new, a wrapped curse in a prim little bow, eager for all that you shouldn’t be. 

And… Christ– 

And then he unfastens the lines around your arms, and runs his hands up your skin. It’s not gentle, nor is it brutish, but you can feel his desperation escalating. His touches grow progressively antagonistic, kneading your palms up to your shoulders, patting down to the shallow pockets of your pants. You’re searched like you hold the key to his success – you suppose that, in some oddly comical way, you do. And it should be upsetting, blasphemous. 

But you’re no sacred thing. You’d laid down that possibility a long time ago. 

No. You’re foul, questionable at your best, and erupt into goosebumps over the ruthless grip of a man who hates your very soul. You’re a deeply detestable spirit, truly, but a detestable spirit who has just managed to get one up on Miguel O’Hara. 

He throws you back around, wrapping his hands around your throat. His snarl is primal, maturated in acrid anger. 

“Where is it?” 

You’re sure that, in some alternate reality, your face is stretched in a shit-eating grin. 

“Where’s the fucking day pass?” 

Your satisfaction is short-lived. 

You’ve never been one to notably detest humiliation. It’s productive – healthy, even – in smaller doses; a fitting consequence for those who you deem deserve it. Yet, as you find yourself unceremoniously hoisted over Miguel’s shoulder, forced into a meandering parade through the streets of New York, you breach into uncharted territory – a threshold where your tolerance encounters its breaking point. 

He makes no effort to soften his strides, unmoved by the idea of providing even a shred of respite for your susceptible self. If anything, it feels as though he deliberately seeks out the harshest terrain, silently chastising your earlier defiance in the most passive aggressive manner known to man. He’d reinforced your constraints before marching out on this fruitless venture, and now you bobble uselessly, backside pointed upward, anchored solely by the meaty arm around your knees. 

At least you’ve regained control of your mouth. 

“D’stroyed it. Gone. Dearly d’parted–” 

“If you’re going to run that little mouth, then make it helpful.” 

“M’bein’ helpfoo,” you start, straining your weakened vocal cords in an effort to mock him. The grip of paralysis may have slackened its hold, but neurotransmission remains at an all time, sluggish low. In all actuality, it astounds you that he can even begin to decipher your words from the tangled murmurs they become. 

“You had it on at the convenience, and a little bit afterward. You can’t expect me to believe that you dealt with it while running for your life.”

Running for your life. Sure. 

Displeasure sparks at the confidence he imbues in his assumption.

“Escoos m– hnngh–” A sudden jump of stress robs you of breath, your stomach plummeting alongside the rapidly distancing ground. As Miguel propels himself above the city skyline, effortlessly evading the crowded streets via a web he’d grappled to an adjacent building, you’re confronted with a stark reality – that this is the very first time you have ever, and likely will ever, experience what it’s like to swing. 

It’s exhilarating and nauseating all at once, gravity relinquishing its command as you transcend the confines of the physical, soaring through some reality where law loses significance. If it had been you, your arms and skill and jurisdiction, you’d never come down. But maybe that’s why it isn’t; maybe your life was meant to lead up to this, and only ever this. 

(Not antimatter technologies or heroic conquest. Yeah, this feels more fitting.) 

Your skin prickles. You phase through the sturdy frame that’s held you up so far, and plummet from its grasp.

Slicing through the boundless sky, you’re accompanied by a profound tranquillity. It isn’t absolute – fear still gnaws at your core, its presence undeniable. But, amidst the churning horror, your instincts are fainter than they ought to be. They whisper in a subdued tone, overshadowed by conflicting conceptions. One, being the inference you’d drawn earlier about how – whether you like it or not – Miguel would not let you die. 

Another, quieter suspicion hints toward the full reality of your… relief.

Though, of course, you’re right about the former. Tree-trunk biceps wrap around your waist, pulling you close as he slingshots off to a nearby rooftop. You flop into him, a ragdoll to the overwhelming force of his agitation, and squeeze your eyes shut at the hints of patchouli permeating from under his mask. 

You don’t have to face the gospel just yet.

“¿Qué mierda? Eh?” He shouts, propping you up against a ledge. “What the fuck was that?” 

You don’t have an answer for him. Your heart lurches, catching up to the urgency at hand, striking on the hollow bars of your ribcage to some reckless tune. It’s only amplified by the torrent of blood distending through your system, throbbing at your temple, rushing by your ears. 

What the fuck, indeed. 

He damns you, it seems, with a fervour that breaches the heavens, as if willing God Himself to commit his plea to eternal memory. Or not; truthfully, you can’t tell. With the roar of your own snowballing thrill, it becomes impossible to discern the sequence of interrogations that explode from him. The world around you fades to the background, your preoccupancy consumed by the disquietude it leaves in its wake. 

Your sense is only validated a minute later when, two blocks away, an ear-piercing shriek ruptures your dissociation. 

Miguel stiffens, slowly turning to face its source.

𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘈𝘙𝘈𝘊𝘏𝘕𝘖-𝘏𝘜𝘔𝘈𝘕𝘖𝘐𝘋 𝘗𝘖𝘓𝘠-𝘔𝘜𝘓𝘛𝘐𝘝𝘌𝘙𝘚𝘌 𝘋𝘈𝘛𝘈𝘉𝘈𝘚𝘌:

Earth-15 – analysed, marked as closed. 

Spider-totem – The Spider: soon after being bit by his radioactive spider, convicted felon Peter Parker merged with Earth-15’s variation of the carnage Symbiote.

Notes – do not engage, at any cost. 

chapter five →

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[dogtoling]

General life- and blog update , since I assume at least a few people might have been wondering where I've been and what i've been up to recently. I obviously haven't been posting or drawing much this year in general. This will probably be an important post if you care about stuff on this blog, and I already rambled on Sheezy, but that site isn't very populated yet and it's also very good at hiding journals so let's just ramble again...

The summary of this post if you hate reading: I'm heavily considering just stepping away from Splatoon. That decision obviously would affect this blog (mostly, my OCs, which is kinda most of the blog at this point). I don't think the blog itself will go anywhere, and I'll probably use it for something in the future... alternatively i'll cherry pick stuff from here into an archive for people who like the worldbuilding.

Longer post under cut:

So what have I been up to this year? The answer is quite simple: NOTHING. Like, actually absolutely nothing. Aside from Art Fight, this has probably been one of my worst art output years of all time, which is really frustrating. That's between my horrendous mental health and depression chasms this year and a complete lack of both focus and inspiration (which can also get chalked down to the depression to a degree, yeah). So the very real reason to why there hasn't been much activity on this blog this year is because I just haven't Done Anything in general.

Now because I know there will be a few people who think "that's fine! you shouldn't judge yourself based on productivity!" you're right! I also agree. However the issue for me specifically is that most (if not all) the time I spend NOT drawing or creating, I spend sitting around wishing I could start drawing or creating, because that is like the 1 thing that keeps me sane on this freaking earth. Unfortunately coming up with OC scenarios in my head doesn't really result in output I can feel fulfilled by in any form as much as I wish it did, lol.

Now; The Issue. It doesn't take a genius to see that if you spend 9 months trying to finish like a dozen OC pages that you COULD do in a week or 2 if you wanted to, then there's probably more than just the problem of executive dysfunction (even though that's at least 60% of it for sure). Obviously my other major problem is that I live by imaginary rules and structures that make sense, but aren't actually useful at ALL in reality and are more than a hindrance if anything (the mental to do-list in my head that says i can't do X until I've done Y doesn't do very much if task Y takes 10 months and I also don't want to do it, and it also has no structured ending).

How does this tie into stepping away from Splatoon, you may ask. Well, the issue is that I have foreseeably fallen out of love with the series. Which isn't exactly news lol. Currently, I'm not even sure i will get the next game, if and when the time comes. Yes, the loss of interest is also expected, given that Splatoon 3 has ended and every fandom has this kind of downtime and lukewarm in-between-titles period. But the truth is that modern Splatoon (almost 10 years old!!!!) is tangibly different from the way the series was back when I fell in love with it. That was Splatoon 1, and while the series has improved in a lot of aspects and is thriving, it's grown in a direction that I just don't really like. Splatoon 3 had the most freaking horrendous, immersion breaking story mode they could've done, then they followed it up with a DLC story that was pretty cool but also compounded a lot of my fears about the series' future and played into every single thing i do not want Splatoon stories to be - fully character focused, random fucking villain, mundane event that's unrealistically world-threatening just because a kids video game needs a scary climax even though it's immersion breaking AGAIN, the whole thing taking place in cyberspace and thus offering basically no worldbuilding even though there is SO MUCH WORLD. I COULD GO ON.

The gist of it is that nowadays, rather than playing Splatoon and being inspired and excited at what comes next, I mostly find myself dreading what dumbass plot they will do next to throw a wrench in the otherwise good stuff. And when that's like THE main approach I have to what's supposed to be my favorite series, it is HARROWING. I can't even really blame the game for this; the story is NOT its selling point, the developers probably do their best to get the bits to us that they really want to tell, and at the end of the day the game is unfortunately a product. Worldbuilding for Splatoon is fun to a point. It's less fun when in order to actually write or create something coherent, instead of filling in the blanks, the blanks are 90% of the freaking thing. At that point you're just better off making something of your own instead of being anchored onto an IP that gives more problems than answers and occasionally shoots you with like a machine gun. Working in the realm of Splatoon is frustrating because more often than not, the questions I have ARE NOT MINE TO ANSWER, and the likelihood that the specific-ass questions I need answers to will ever be actually addressed is really low.

Tying this back to my OCs. Obviously I love my OCs more than I love myself which admittedly isn't that high of a bar but you get the point. The problem is that I spend a lot of time mulling over worldbuilding that, again, frankly isn't mine to do. Because if I want it to be Splatoon, then it should be mostly accurate to how Splatoon is! But the problem with that is that there's really not THAT MUCH worldbuilding in the series that you can work with, and most of the core game mechanics are just abstract enough that it's actually horrendous to try and come up with workarounds and ways for things to make sense that don't require just constructing a full knockoff version mirror dimension of the game and saying fuck everything that's in place here because Inkopolis Plaza literally has no roads in or out of there and I have no fucking idea how that's allowed when your only option is to jump the fence (or, nowadays, take the train which also isnt connected to a street as far as I remember). Between the face value issue and the lack of REALLY IMPORTANT worldbuilding, like - I will always come back to this - THE INK TANK'S FUNCTION 10 YEARS DOWN THE LINE - there's a goddamn ocean of plot holes and things that end up being obstacles to creativity rather than inspiration. I feel like I'm pretty solidly at the point (and have been for a while) where hanging onto Splatoon is really only contributing to creativity block and frustration with lack of freedom and the ability to actually do things.

So I guess those are my reasonings that I've put together just sitting here for the time being. The TL;DR is that I wish I could just do stuff without Splatoon's canon getting in the way, which is a really stupid problem to have if you're making Splatoon OCs. I feel this frustration extremely strongly every time I have to work with actual bigger aspects of the world; we still don't have an Inkopolis map, we don't know what the world around Inkopolis looks like, we don't know what the wilderness is like aside from Just Normal Forest and Desert and very few snippets as to what modern wildlife MIGHT be, I still don't know how the fuck the Inklings teleport to the goddamn arctic ocean to play a turf war at Shipshape Cargo co. These are all actually really important things if you're trying to establish a setting in any kind of storytelling that's outside of immediate city bounds (and even there, you need to know the layout of the city and its important areas). Also a fucking mutant bear and a baby salmon and a squid not wearing suitable gear went to space and fought on a rocket in space. These are some things that would give me peace of mind to not have to deal with in my own writing, probably.

So where do we go from here? Unsure. I haven't really made a decision on this front yet, though right now I'm leaning more towards actually going ahead with trying to do my own thing. That will result in obvious design and setting changes for my OCs whenever I get around to it. This blog probably won't go anywhere (again, unless I impulse delete it during a mood swing like i've almost done on like three separate occasions this year), but it will probably get less use, and I will probably end up making a new blog to post about whatever I end up doing once I get to a point where it feels like it makes sense. There's a chance that I will delete this blog and put all the interesting stuff on an archive blog for the people who are here just for the worldbuilding. My actual true passion for a long time now hasn't even been Splatoon anymore, it's just been cephalopods. I'm kind of done having Splatoon get in the way of the cephalopods, as thankful as I am that it introduced me to them...

If you read this to the end heres a treat for you = 🍪

[g1rld1ary]

bloody genius ; anthony lockwood x fem!reader

➻ rushed to get this out before I go out tonight (wish me luck lols) but am pretty fond of it !!

➻ word count: 1686

➻ synopsis: after a long night of sifting through research for an impossible case with lockwood, you do something you didn't quite mean to

➻ warnings: light mentions of series typical murder/violence, kissing, idiots in love

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You groaned, tipping back in your chair and rubbing your eyes, trying to make them see straight. You and Lockwood had been pouring over photocopied newspaper articles, floor plans and assorted research for hours and you weren’t getting any closer to stringing any of it together. With Lockwood & Co steadily improving their reputation, the company was getting more and more cases with shorter and shorter timeframes. To combat this influx of cases and the consequent research that needed completing, you’d all decided to split the load where possible. This meant that currently George and Lucy were in the library researching one case whilst you and Lockwood had shut yourselves in the kitchen to struggle through another.

You supposed you had the better deal, though, supplied with easy access to tea, the thinking cloth, and, of course, Lockwood. He was your secret favourite out of your coworkers-turned-family, though if you asked Lucy she’d say it was no secret at all. Regardless, that brought you to the current moment where the thinking cloth was filled with nonsensical lines following trains of thought, all edges punctuated with a frankly ridiculous number of question marks.

Lockwood himself looked almost as frustrated as you felt, but you could tell he was trying to hide it and save face. He caught you staring and flashed a smile, but it lacked its usual charm when his eye bags were more pronounced than usual.

“Hey,” He said softly, putting his hand over yours to stop you drawing stress doodles — the latest one a crudely drawn murder scene, “We’ll get it soon, just gotta find the connection between it all.”

“Sure, Lockwood.” You tried for a smile but it came out as more of a grimace and Lockwood could see the exhaustion etched into your features. He frowned, more concerned for your wellbeing than the case at the moment.

“Maybe you’ve done enough for tonight? Go get some sleep and we can pick back up in the morning?”

“Are you going to go to bed?” You asked, already sure of the answer, “I’m not leaving you to do this on your own, not this time.” He opened his mouth to argue but you shut him up with a glare. He held up his hands in light-hearted surrender. As an alternative Lockwood suggested a break; only a few minutes, but enough for you to make two new mugs of steaming tea and him to crack open a new packet of biscuits. “I’ll even let you break the biscuit rule,” He stage whispered, ducking out of the kitchen to check on Lucy and George and refill their own stash of snacks.

You watched him go, smiling softly. You loved evenings like this — well not like this where trains of thought didn’t quite make it to the station and you had the infuriating feeling of knowledge being held just out of reach, but nights where you were all home and together. You liked them even more when it meant you got to spend time with Lockwood and he got like this; treating you just a little bit differently to George or Lucy, offering you extra biscuits and giving you that soft smile, the one that made your heart flutter in a way it probably shouldn’t when looking at your boss. It fed your delusions of one day telling him how you feel, sure, but the lightness of his attention overpowered the inevitable heartbreak you’d face when he got a date that wasn’t you.

He returned with a confident grin, snapping you out of your stupor. You buried yourself in a new file, scanning for anything that could make sense of the mess of a case you were given. Maybe a Type Two, could be a poltergeist or not, who knows who the ghost was — the whole thing was ridiculous and you had no idea why Lockwood would even take it, but he said he felt sorry for the poor old man who came to the doorstep of 35 Portland Row. The both of you sat in comfortable silence for what felt like hours, knee-deep in paper.

Your eyes were glazing in and out of focus until you caught a snippet of something that had you gasping and tumbling out of your chair, standing frenetically in front of Lockwood looking ready to perform.

“What if I told you,” You said grinning, “That your dear old man had a sealed criminal record until a few years ago? For being a suspect in a murder case no less!” Lockwood was solely focused on you now, dark eyes searching your face for more information. You were no less enthusiastic, eyes scanning the police report quickly for the relevant information. “He was a suspect in the murder of a Charlotte Black back in the 50s. Her sister alleged that the two were involved but the police found no evidence of his involvement, nor of their relationship at all, with the exception of two letters the sister sent during the time of the investigation. Officers on the case said his apartment was ‘severely lacking a female touch’ — ouch — and said to them he was definitely not in a relationship. The record was sealed because the allegations had a dire impact on his accounting firm!” You were buzzing despite the grim subject matter, as you’d finally found the link that could tie the case together.

Lockwood was similarly ecstatic. “Obviously the relationship had to be a secret for whatever reason which was why there’s no marriage certificate or record of letters between them. The letter I was looking at before must’ve been from this sister, it detailed her desire for independence and her interest in his business. She found out about his shady numbers—” He jumped up to grab a letter of complaint over botched figures from a client, “He got mad and killed her! Y/n you’re a bloody genius!” You flushed at the compliment.

“And she’s here now because he’s coming out of retirement, he bragged about it when you were hearing his case! God, it would just be great if we had, like, one more piece of evidence, just to confirm they knew each other,” You sighed, clenching your fingers at the single hole in the puzzle.

The door opened suddenly and George appeared, holding a small folded piece of paper.

“I think this might be from your case, not ours — odd looking couple,” George said, popping the photo on the edge of the dining table, giving a quizzical look at the two of you standing in the middle of the kitchen before heading back to the library. You and Lockwood exchanged a look, almost too scared to take a peek, it was too perfect. You grabbed the photo of Charlotte Black her sister had attached to the letter, plus the one of the man that you’d found in a local newspaper in the archives and laid them both out on the table for comparison.

Lockwood sucked in a nervous breath before slowly peeling open the photo. You couldn’t contain your joy, it was them! The whole night was suddenly worth it, the two of you jumping around the kitchen like little kids on Christmas. One second you were doing a stupid victory dance and the next your lips had pressed themselves to Lockwood’s. The moment you’d become cognisant of what had happened you stepped back, feeling your heart plummet to your toes. This was not how you’d imagined that would happen. Plus, Lockwood’s unusually stoic face was igniting your anxiety, cold spreading through every branch of your veins.

“Oh my God,” You breathed, willing your legs to work, “I am so sorry, Anthony.” Your body caught up to your brain and you headed to the door until you were pulled back, a hand on your waist twisting you to face him again. And then his lips were on yours with purpose this time, the hand not on your waist finding its way to cup your jaw. When your brain was done short circuiting you matched his fervour tenfold, bringing your hands up to rest on his chest, gripping the collar of his shirt to bring him impossibly closer.

You only pulled away when you were at genuine risk of passing out, unable to conjure a single word. Lockwood gazed at you with glossy, blown out pupils. That, mixed with the pink blush on his cheeks and swollen lips created your favourite ever version of Anthony Lockwood — an image you hoped would be privately yours from now on.

“So, is this where I ask to take you on a proper date, love?” He asked, his smile melting your heart into a puddle in his hand. You couldn’t let him have all the fun, though, and willed yourself to produce a teasing grin.

“Seems appropriate, doesn’t it?” Your eyes strayed to the clock on the wall that showed an inappropriately early hour of the morning, “I think we both ought to get some sleep, tomorrow’ll be a big job. Goodnight, Anthony.” You punctuated it with a soft kiss to his cheek before slipping out of the room to silently scream as you bound up the stairs, victory dance making a reappearance behind your safely closed door.

Anthony was left standing in the kitchen like a fool, hand sitting softly where you’d kissed him. A lovesick smile passed his face, thoughts of the impending case long gone from his brain, and in their place sat pictures of you and a looping memory of you slotting your lips between his. He wasn’t sure how long he was standing there basking in your light, but Lucy walked past to drop her mug in the sink, shooting Lockwood a knowing look before heading up to the attic. Lockwood found himself giggling uncharacteristically, giddy with the glee of finally telling you how he’d felt since you first walked through the door of 35 Portland Row.

[offtorivendell]

Is an oily residue corrupting Azriel's hypothetical mating bond and making him feel off kilter? Is it related to Valg-type magic?

Disclaimer: this theory is a continuation of a few of my others that I've been too lazy to post until now - first I was going to post it for Elriel Month 2023, then Azriel Week 2023... it never happened - but like everyone else I'm having massive FOMO before HOFAS, so here we finally go, even though I know I've forgotten something lol. As usual, this makes no claims of being accurate, it's just theorising for fun.

A massive thank you goes out to @wingedblooms, @tswaney17, @silverlinedeyes, @psychologynerd, @ladynightcourt3, @cassianfanclub, and anyone else I've forgotten (sorry!) for all of our discussions that finally became this post. Love you guys. 💜

Spoilers: this is a Maasverse post, and draws from the ACOTAR series, CC 1 & 2/HOEAB & HOSAB, and the TOG series. It is CC 3/HOFAS spoiler free, as I'm waiting to read it in its "original English" 🤓 on the 30th of January. Please be respectful of that if engaging in the comments before it's published!

Plenty of people, including @silverlinedeyes, @icedflames and myself, have posted our thoughts on mating bonds in the Maasverse, and this theory builds on those previously established - though again, as yet hypothetical - ideas. Specifically, this post about the use of “oily” throughout the ACOTAR series is recommended reading.

What we do know is that:

Mating bonds contain threads, and so do spells.

Mates are the song/music of the soul, and their laughter is likened to music.

Different fae, and magics, contain different scents, be that personal or regional

First, let's go back to ACOWAR, when Feyre described the Ravens' entrance into the library as being like an off-kilter chord:

I felt it at the same moment she did. The ripple and tremor. Like … like some piece of the world shifted, like some off-kilter chord had been plucked. We turned toward the illuminated path that we’d just taken through the stacks, then to the dark far, far beyond. - ACOWAR, chapter 30

Initially, I had wondered if the King of Hybern had had Jurian use the Harp to infiltrate Velaris, but it was @merymoonbeam (I think) who theorised that the Cauldron might be mimicking the Harp, and maybe not doing the best job of it. Which made me wonder, could it do the same with mate bonds?

He left the rest unspoken. Because her mate was here, sleeping a level up. Because her mate had been in the family room and Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much. - ACOSF, Azriel's bonus chapter

Looking at her now … She was pale, yes. The vacancy still glazing her features. But he couldn’t breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen. Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He’d said the same to Jesminda once. But even as shame washed through him, the words, the sense chanted, Mine. You are mine, and I am yours. Mate. - ACOWAR, chapter 24

What if the Elucien bond, as either a spell or piss poor Cauldron-Made approximation of a bond, causes Azriel - and maybe Elain, possibly Lucien - nausea when Lucien is around because it's constantly changing, or reverberating over the top of, what remains of a hypothetical Elriel bond?

What if it's making the Elriel bond off-kilter, out of whack, imbalanced?

Does this make Azriel feel sick, nauseous, or simply overwhelmed/overstimulated?

When people are feeling off-balance, for whatever reason, they can feel sick or nauseous. It's one of the symptoms of vertigo, which can be triggered by severe headaches such as migraines. And guess who rubs their temples? Azriel!

Alternatively, certain chords played loudly enough on a string instrument can really mess with your chest - and where do mating bonds attach - if you're standing close enough for them to vibrate through you (at least, they do for me haha). It can be weirdly disconcerting, and I'd imagine that if Azriel or Elain feels something like this, no wonder he describes such severe discomfort that he needs to leave, and she shrinks away from Lucien, the unintentional cause of her pain.

Same with the smell; if the magic of the Cauldron, in whatever way, is messing with the smell that should be there? Contaminating it? Unbearable.

Is this too crack for you? Well, let's get even crazier.

I have previously suggested that the Cauldron's actions throughout the series could be tracked, in part, by SJM describing a feeling or quality as “oily,” and I've also wondered if the dark maker of the Cauldron - Koschei? - could have hijacked it in some way, as the Book of Breathings being made from leftover iron gave me “One Ring” vibes. I still stand by that, but with a clarification (and here is where the TOG and CC spoilers come in, FYI). I think it's only half of the magic belonging to the Cauldron that is "oily":

Throughout TOG, the Valg are heavily associated with “oiliness,” in terms of their blood and magic. The smell “reeks” and always results in the involved characters experiencing extreme revulsion, including headaches. Sound familiar?

Wyrdstone has an oily, hideous aftertaste.

Even in CC 1/HOEAB, Danika was described as oily when she came into Griffin Antiques.

Celaena looked at the sealed door, her stomach turning. A half-dried pool of blood lay at the base of the door, so dark it looked like oil. She crouched, swiping a finger through the puddle. She sniffed at it, almost gagged at the reek, and then rubbed her finger against the pad of her thumb. It felt as oily as it looked. - COM, chapter 45

“What the hell is that?” Rowan demanded, kneeling beside her, sniffing her outstretched hand. He jerked back, snarling. “That’s not dirt.” No, it wasn’t. It was blacker than night, and reeked just as badly as it had the first time she’d smelled it, in the catacombs beneath the library, an obsidian, oily pool of blood. Slightly different from that other, horrific smell that loitered around this place, but similar. So similar to— “This isn’t possible,” she said, jolting to her feet. “This—this—this—” She paced, if only to keep from shaking. “I’m wrong. I have to be wrong.” There had been so many cells in that forgotten dungeon beneath the library, beneath the king’s Wyrdstone clock tower. The creature she’d encountered there had possessed a human heart. It had been left, she’d suspected, because of some defect. What if … what if the perfected ones had been moved elsewhere? What if they were now … ready? - HOF, chapter 45

The overseer roared, thrashing as her magic swept into him, melded with him. But there was nothing inside to grab on to. No darkness to burn out, no remaining ember to breathe life into. Only— Aelin reeled back, magic vanishing and knees buckling as if struck. Her head gave a throb, and nausea roiled in her gut. She knew that feeling—that taste. Iron. As if the man’s core was made of it. And that oily, hideous aftertaste … Wyrdstone. The demon inside the overseer let out a choked laugh. “What are collars and rings compared to a solid heart? A heart of iron and Wyrdstone, to replace the coward’s heart beating within.” - EOS, chapter 15

* Side note, it's giving Tamlin and his stone heart.

Danika didn’t just look like she’d been rootling through the garbage. She smelled like it, too. Wisps of her silvery blond hair—normally a straight, silken sheet—curled from her tight, long braid, the streaks of amethyst, sapphire, and rose splattered with some dark, oily substance that reeked of metal and ammonia. - CC HOEAB, chapter 1

The Hind held Ruhn’s gaze as the game began. She was the spitting image of Luna, with her upswept chignon, the regal angle of her neck and jaw. As coldly serene as the moon. All she needed was a pack of hunting hounds at her side— And she had them, in her dreadwolves. How had someone so young risen in the ranks so swiftly, gained such notoriety and power? No wonder she left a trail of blood behind her. “Careful now,” the Harpy said with that oily smile. “The Hammer doesn’t share.” The Hind’s lips curved upward. “No, he doesn’t.” - CC HOSAB, chapter 33

I think the dark maker of the Cauldron could have been Valg, whether that's Koschei or someone else I don't know though Koschei currently makes the most sense. I also don't know when the dark maker would have had the chance to influence the Cauldron; was it always made from dark and light, or - as @fawnandshadows theorised a while back - did Koschei bastardise it after the fact? Where the Valg would fit in with the Daglan and the Asteri is also a mystery, though my current train of thought is that they could be family names or allegiances, like different clans of the same parasitical species, thanks to the description of Danika in HOEAB.

But, back to Azriel and his severe reaction to the Elucien bond.

I know I'm not the only one who wonders at the very Valg-ish themes with which Rhys and Azriel's powers have been described - maybe one day I'll post my thoughts about the possible link between lightsingers, shadowsingers, daemati and the Valg (but it is not this day lol) - and how that may have come about. For example, are the Valg interwoven, genetically, with the Avallen people, or is it because the Princes of Hel are also involved, and have similar magics? Are the Princes of Hel a similar species as the Valg, Asteri and Daglan, or completely different? Ugh, let's stop this spiral here.

Oily: the obvious train of thought being that oily things are slippery, which can lead to an imbalance… ie. becoming off-kilter.

Sounds like Azriel could be suffering from some sort of vertigo, of which symptoms can include nausea; severe headaches, such as migraines, may trigger an episode… and who rubs his temples enough that Elain noticed it?

Maybe Azriel can sense the corruption in the bond, either the current Elucien bond, or the hypothetical original bond between Elain and himself; if like calls to like, and his shadows are Valg-ish, maybe it is because his OG bond was fucked with. So, what if:

Azriel's shadows can slip away from spells and binding magic (Slippery > oily > Valg).

The guards at the prison know what he is.

Valg magic making Azriel nauseous and Elain sourcing/making a healer's powder for him? It's giving Chaol and Yrene. Especially since Elain (and Mor) make his shadows brighten.

So, we have in-text mentions of Azriel feeling overwhelmed due to the proximity of the Elucien bond, as well as Elain shrinking from Lucien - an action that parallels Azriel hanging out in the doorway, and even Lucien retreating to the human lands, if he feels any bond-related discomfort around Elain. But what about his initial response to seeing Elain, and thinking she was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen? The quote that sent me down the “oily” rabbit hole to begin with?

Looking at her now … She was pale, yes. The vacancy still glazing her features. But he couldn’t breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen. Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He’d said the same to Jesminda once. But even as shame washed through him, the words, the sense chanted, Mine. You are mine, and I am yours. Mate. - ACOWAR, chapter 24

Well, Aelin felt oily disgust at the thought of marrying someone who wasn't Rowan:

“There are no allies,” Darrow said. “Unless Her Highness decides to be useful and gain us men and arms through marriage”—a sharp glance at Rowan—“we are alone.” Aelin debated revealing what she knew, the money she’d schemed and killed to attain, but— Something cold and oily clanged through her. Marriage to a foreign king or prince or emperor. Would this be the cost? Not just in blood shed, but in dreams yielded? To be a princess eternal, but never a queen? To fight with not just magic, but the other power in her blood: royalty. She could not look at Rowan, could not face those pine-green eyes without being sick. - EOS, chapter 5

This example from Aelin could describe Azriel and Elain’s potential future if Elain accepted a theoretically Cauldron spelled bond to Lucien, but also for Lucien and Jesminda, if they were originally true or fated mates before she was murdered.

Some final thoughts:

We know from TOG that healing light is known as the Valg executioner. In a parallel to Yrene killing Erawan with her healing light in KOA, Elain killed the King of Hybern - who I suspect was possessed or assisted by a Valg, as Feyre described his magic as a “galaxy” in his palms - with Truth-Teller, which had recently devoured the (her?) sunlight; does this mean that Elain could heal or purify Valg possessed things, with or without the magical, Made dagger? Could this be extrapolated to Azriel's magic, the Dread Trove, or even the Cauldron (possibly with Feyre and Nesta for the bigger ticket items)?

If the Asteri are the same species as the Valg, and the Valg somehow had a hand in making or twisting the Cauldron, it could follow that they used the Cauldron to create offspring bonds for a more powerful food source. If this pans out then Elain, bright light, could hypothetically heal the Cauldron. Maybe that is why Azriel describes her with purity language? Not because SJM wants to display Azriel's apparently toxic thoughts about her (🙄), but because she, along with her sisters, will be his/their salvation? Rhys once said as much to Feyre!

@mrspettyferr has suggested that Azriel's shadows ability to hide him from binding magic - see: the High Lord's meeting in ACOWAR - could have prevented his true bond from snapping with Elain when she came out of the Cauldron. This could be supported by any Valg/shadow link.

Thank you for reading! Please don't mention any CC HOFAS spoilers in the comments or reblogs until after it has been officially published. 💜

[ostrichmonkey-games]

FitD Settings and Unnamed Furry Crime Game and You

Alrighty, as promised, time to talk about Setting Stuff.

This is a post both about what the setting for (the still!) Unnamed Furry Crime Game is going to generally be like, and also a bit about settings in Forged in the Dark games in general. 

Okay so, let’s define Forged in the Dark games as ttrpgs that cover Blades in the Dark and any game that uses the same general engine and setup. Blades is the progenitor, and a lot of FitD stick relatively close to its formula (but not all, there’s plenty of room to poke around and rearrange things), and one of the more important elements, I think, is the “powder keg sandbox” setup.

In Blades, the players are underdog criminals doing underdog criminal things like causing problems on purpose. Those problems cascade, intersecting with the different factions/characters present in the setting, and usually then creating more and more problems for the players to deal with. That’s the powder keg sandbox — a relatively open setting, filled with kindling (factions/characters with conflicting and interesting goals and motivations), and then the players are dropped in the middle of it, and positioned in a way that no matter they do, they are going to be conflicting with at least some of those characters/factions, thereby igniting the kindling and making the whole thing explode in a blaze of fun. It’s great.  

So, in short, the purpose of a setting in a FitD game is to create that powder keg sandbox. It has to be filled with interesting characters/factions that are both compelling (to encourage players to interact with them) and conflicting with each other and players (so that when players interact with them, explosions happen!), while still providing enough purposeful space so that there’s room to be flexible as players start interacting with everything and changing the world around them. A good sandbox has plenty of room to play and dig around in, and then to make it a powder keg, just bury some sticks of dynamite in there and hand the players a bunch of lit matches. Boom.  

Now let’s talk about Unnamed Furry Crime Game (UFCG because I’m done typing all that out and I don’t want to think about coming up with an actual title right now). I don’t mind wearing my influences on my sleeves, and the biggest one here is Lackadaisy. I mean, the whole concept of the game was sparked when the animated pilot first released and I did a reread of the webcomic (pretty sure I first found it around 2009, which is wild to think about), and what’s more fun than a bunch of anthropomorphic animals doing crime things in a period setting? So, the initial spark for the game was Prohibition era Crime Time, but with furries (not just limited to cats, as a way to distance the game more from the initial inspiration and also because it’s fun). However, this was never going to be a purely historical game, it was (and still is!) going to be set in a fictional city in a fictional world — so more historically inspired than truly set. 

This was done to free myself from doing too much research (there’s still necessary research though), and also to give myself more creative freedom. From there, the premise started to turn into “What if the Prohibition hadn’t ended? What would that look like?”. And that’s still part of the core premise. So I guess, it’s a speculative alternate fictional history thing?

Freed from any truly historical restraints, I started tossing in other extras that could be fun. Like, what if airships/dirigibles were still in major use? Yeah, let's go for it. What if the city the game takes place in draws from classic Hollywood and noir? Yeah, let’s go for it (also at this time I had watched Babylon, which, not going to say was good, but the vibes are fun). What if I also pulled aesthetically from Gotham, specifically the Batman: The Animated Series version? Yes! Now we’ve got a setting of glitz and glamor and shady hard-boiled grit. Which is a great setup for Crime Time. 

Being less historically strict, also gives me more room for exaggeration and over-the-top-ness. I want UFCG to be characterful. I want there to be an emphasis on larger-than-life elements, both player characters and all the factions and NPCs. Especially in the case of the factions/NPCs, they need to be chunky and discrete blocks that are easy to instantly grab onto and pick up and play with. This loops back to filling your sandbox with cool things, and if the sandbox itself is cool, then that’s going to rub off on the stuff buried in the sand. More exaggerated components make for more flammable kindling. 

This is another reason having just a singular city-setting tends to work well for a FitD sandbox powder keg — a city is just naturally densely packed with stuff (now, the hard work will be writing all that stuff, but I’ll get to that bridge eventually). In a densely packed space, it’s also very easy to make everything connected to each other. Which means it’s going to be very difficult for players to make a move without impacting someone or something else! Again, boom. 

So then, why furries? Well like I already said, it’s fun. That in and of itself is enough reason, but also, I think it creates a useful level of abstraction that makes creating exaggerated characterful characters more easily. It’s easier to be a little more goofy without breaking things when you have a bunch of animal people running around. 

That’s the general gist and thought process behind the setting I’m assembling. There’s still most of it to actually write, but you do need a fun concept to make a fun setting, so it’ll get done as it needs to get done. 

I am still a little unsure of what I want to do for something weirder within the setting. Should magic be real? There’s plenty going on that it doesn’t feel super necessary. Or, what if magic is not real, but that doesn’t stop the existence of various occult-y factions/organizations from springing up, and maybe they think magic is real (or even leave it ambiguous). On the opposite end of the spectrum, what if I tossed in some dashes of retro-future-y superscience? Atomic Robo style maybe. Basically, I’m still exploring what the line is for pushing things too far. 

With all of that said, what is the text of the game going to provide in terms of setting? What I’m picturing is probably pretty similar to Blades, but maybe with less overall exposition and pulling the most useful setting-building stuff from various N/OSR stuff I like. You can convey a lot of setting information in relatively compact ways that also double as tools to use at the table (i.e. random tables, my best friends). The city will have various breakdowns on districts, notable locations, individuals, etc etc. Factions will have clear goals, conflicting with each other so as to create a web of Problems. Plenty of little miscellaneous details on “life in the city” to function as small nuggets of information and flavor. 

The hardest part will be striking the correct balance of information. You’ll need enough to feel comfortable playing in the setting, but not too much that it starts to feel like homework to run it. Figuring out what’s the correct amount of sand and all that. 

[metalbvcky]

Bloom!Verse Masterlist

It's been three years since the birth of this enormous series. I never thought a oneshot (which became eight chapters) could lead me to such character development and world building, but here we are. And I'm still writing, the muse hasn't died, and I'm not nearly finished (or ever will be). The lore is ✨ infinite ✨ So I thought I'd make an updated masterpost— in chronological order (as it's been written in reverse)— for the new year. Aster should be finished by the late spring and then I'll likely start the wedding fic 😉 I still have dozens of ideas for this series, it's insane. In fact, I have a poly fic in the works, I just need to continue and finish it 😋

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Shelves of Aster - 96k (WIP)

Tags: Alternative Universe - Bookstore, Sugar Daddy, Meet Cute, First Meetings, Age Difference, Falling In Love, Healthy Relationships, Experienced Dom/Inexperienced Sub Snippet: Their eyes lock the second Steve pulls back slightly. They gaze at each other for what feels like forever, as if a magical force is drawing them in, closer, and closer until neither of them can ignore the tension surrounding them. Steve’s breath puffs against Bucky’s lips when he speaks, “Can I kiss you?”

Peach and Lemon Blossoms - 1k (oneshot)

Tags: Established Relationship, Office Sex, Implied Top Steve/Bottom Bucky, PWP Snippet: Bucky has always fantasized about office sex, and always found the risk to be a bit thrilling. He made sure to lock the door before he came inside, so there wasn’t a chance of anyone walking in on them, though there was still a possibility someone could knock.

Rose Blue - 60k, 8 chapters (complete)

Tags: Established Relationship, Married Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, 24/7 D/S relationship dynamic, Kinky Husbands In Love, a whole bunch of smut tags Snippet: Steve smiles at Bucky before he reaches across the dresser, to the dedicated spot where they keep their accessories and things. Draped around a velvet bust is a sterling silver choker, the petite chain link gleaming in the soft lamplight. Beside the bust is a ring boat containing a wedding band that matches the one attached to the choker’s oval pendant, curved downward. Blue accent roses decorate the gold tinted sides, a crystal stone shining in the center with leaves tucked throughout.

Dreams of Poppy Fields (3 times Bucky pretended to be asleep and 1 time Steve caught him) - 4.8k (oneshot)

Tags: Established Relationship, Married Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Fluffy and Smut, Light Angst, Possessive Steve Snipppet: Steve kneels down to pry the trowel out of Bucky’s hand from where he’d been tending to the garden. He slides Bucky’s stained gardening gloves off and tosses them aside, out of Dum-E’s reach. It isn’t the first time he’s had to carry Bucky to bed, and it surely won’t be the last, so Steve sees no problem in picking him up.

A Mug Filled with Pink Irises - 2.3k (oneshot)

Tags: Established Relationship, Married Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Kitchen Sex Snippet: Steve crosses his legs, fixated on Bucky’s exposed collar bone from the low-cut neckline. Peppering kisses to his husband’s neck, not to mention sucking on the most sensitive spots, has always been his favorite part about foreplay.

Dark Dahlias at the Annual Potts/Romanov Costume Party - 6.5k (oneshot)

Tags: Established Relationship, Married Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Halloween, Humor, House Party, Domestic Fluff, Pepper Potts/Natasha Romanov Snippet: “Give me your best sexual pick-up line,” Bucky says, one-hundred percent intending to use it on Steve, if Nat doesn’t beat him to it. Clint leans against the counter, scratching his head in thought. Dressed as Fred Jones is truly uncanny for this particular moment. “I’m peanut butter. You’re jelly. Let’s have sex?”

Wild Amaranth Desires - 5.1k (oneshot)

Tags: Established Relationship, Married Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Roleplay, Cages, Leashes, Blink and you'll miss it mention of a threesome Snippet: Bassy music thrums through the walls, the sound rushing in and around the small, closed-off area. A few multi-colored lights gently strobe in the background, occasionally highlighting over the cage that sits in the middle of the room.

Amaryllis in Baskets - 1.3k (oneshot)

Tags: Established Relationship, Married Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, PWP, Dirty Talk, Cooking Snippet: Now here they are, Steve finishing up lunch while Bucky sits at the breakfast table with the warm, afternoon sun slipping through the curtains.

His Precious Primrose - 4.1k (oneshot)

Tags: Established Relationship, Married Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Christmas, PWP, Aftercare Snippet: Steve takes the steps one at a time, his cotton, calf-length robe grazing the railing. Once at the bottom, he strolls through the hallway and into the kitchen, passing the dining room while on his way. He walks slowly, with no rush at all, when a gift wrapped up in front of the lit fireplace slips into the corner of his vision.

Identical Mauve Carnations - 3.6k (oneshot)

Tags: Established Relationship, Married Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Dream Sequence, Wet Dream, Self-cest, Bucky/Bucky, Winter Soldier Bucky Snippet: “It’s been a while since I’ve been with a pretty thing like you,” James purrs, reaching up to brush a metal knuckle over Bucky’s cheek. “Think you can handle being with me?”

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Because I know not everyone reads threesomes, I've listed the rest under the cut (and this post is long enough) 😉

Cattails In the Rogers-Barnes Household (A Scavenger Hunt for Lube, 5 +1) - 12k, 2 chapters (complete)

Tags: Married Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Threesomes, Pre-Poly, Dom Loki, Switch Loki Snippet: Loki vaults themself forward and successfully closes the door without alerting anyone. They scan the room slowly, spotting every little detail. The desk is rather tidy, however, the sitting area is the polar opposite. Magazines are scattered across the floor, throw pillows shoved to the side, and overall just in a disarray. What really catches their eye is the pair of leather cuffs poking out between the cushions, along with a thin strap for a blindfold.

A Toy to Share, Restrained by Coriander - 6.7k (oneshot)

Tags: Threesomes, Pre-Poly, BDSM scene Snippet: Loki pushes off of the wall from where they’d been leaning, arms no longer crossed, and takes a couple of long, determined steps. Bucky cranes his neck up due to Loki’s height, just an odd number of inches taller than him. Both of their gazes are locked in on each other, eyes unmoving while Loki curves a single finger under Bucky’s jaw.

Strangled by Thoughts of Poison Ivy (Bucky Rogers-Barnes and the No Good, Very Bad Week) - 9.2k (oneshot)

Tags: Pre-Poly, Scene Gone Wrong, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst Snippet: Steve doesn't think, he just reacts, his body moving on its own as he scrambles to loosen the straps holding Bucky in before he hurts himself. The second they loosen even a fraction, Bucky breaks free, scrambling rapidly backward off of the bench, his back slamming into the wall behind them. Steve tries to catch him but Bucky pulls his arm away, and god, it feels like a stab to the heart to watch Bucky curl on himself like a wounded animal.

Honeysuckles Growing on the Window Sill - 22k, 5 chapters (complete)

Tags: Threesomes, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, Relationship Discussions, Fluff and Smut Snippet: Steve’s face turns serious, absolute fondness written in his expression. “Without a doubt in my mind. You were so beautiful for me,” he says, voice turning soft as he tucks a loose strand of Loki’s hair behind their ear. “I really like you, Loki. We like you.”

Lobelias in the Meeting Room - 4k (oneshot)

Tags: Threesomes, Polyamory, Light Angst, Fluff and Smut Snippet: Loki follows Steve with their eyes, holding their gaze until Steve comes to a stop near them, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed. They regard Bucky with a soft look before capturing his lips, inhaling through their nose as arousal swells in their stomach.

A Threatening Snakeroot (Hidden in the Crowd) - 7.1k (oneshot)

Tags: Threesomes, Polyamory, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Sex Club Snippet: As Bucky is led down the hallway, taking an immediate right, Loki directs him over to the side of the bar. There’s a square pedestal off to the side, which was added the same day Bucky received his pillow. A sign on the left of it read, ‘Pet on Display,’ while on the right it said, ‘ Display Only - Do Not Touch.’ It was a nice little spot to watch people come and go, and was close enough to the bar that Val could help keep an eye out for him if Loki and Steve weren't nearby.

Succulent Strawberries, Dangling from the Branches - 1.6k (oneshot)

Tags: Threesomes, Polyamory, Fluff and Smut, Domestic, Bookstores Snippet: The warmth of Steve’s breath causes a shiver to travel through Bucky’s back. He lets out a whine upon the slender hand urging him back inside, his legs going into autopilot mode as his doms tower over him. The door shuts with an audible click, followed by the window shades rolling down and blocking the evening sunlight.

The First Sprouts of Spring - 1.6k (oneshot-- recently switched to complete since my brain had other ideas back in 2021)

Tags: Threesomes, Polyamory, Fluff and Smut, Cuddling & Snuggling Snippet: As Steve steps onto the porch for a few pieces of wood, Loki strolls over to the closet and takes out some blankets. They return to find Steve rearranging the furniture, pushing the two couches together, creating a square hollow. They promptly hand the stack of blankets to Steve at his instruction, then head back to check up on Bucky.

[lesbianpunkghost]

Ashley Campbell moodboard + some of my headcanons

Okay guys, I've been in the Sally Face fandom for a long time (4 years) and I have an AU based on the game (I have it written but I've never posted it anywhere) so some of the headcanons might seem weird in the game's canon.

- Ash definitely listens to Billie Eilish and other famous singers. But she also listens to a lot of Indie rock, alternative rock (e.g. Big Thief, Sparklehorses, Radiohead, etc.).

- Continuing with the music world, she certainly has several different playlists for very specific situations. And she organizes them all frequently.

- (I think this one is kind of canon) she is a protective friend and probably stops thinking about herself to help her friends, which ends up making her destroy herself.

- She is lesbian and non-binary, her pronouns are she/they

- She loves more "neutral" clothes, like suits, leather jackets, loose sweaters, because it makes her feel more androgynous and she loves it

- She and Larry have obviously been best friends for a long time and know everything about each other, but she is also VERY close friends with Todd and they definitely gossip a lot.

- She and Sal were always very close but they still didn't know much about each other. One day they discovered that they were fans of the same series and began to have the courage to open up to each other, discovering that they are practically identical (in relation to many things).

- She has had a secret (not so secret) crush on Maple since elementary school, contrary to what many people think, they have always been friends (they even drifted apart at the beginning of high school) but then they got closer and had a quick "casual" relationship, because Ash was going to move to college.

- She and Maple stayed out of touch while Ash was in college (against Ash's will), so she didn't know that Maple had started a relationship with Chug and received the news as soon as she returned to Nockfell.

- She drew Maple at every possible opportunity and in every possible drawing stroke.

- Ash never got over Maple and when they were finally able to be together again she felt so happy that anyone could tell.

- Ash DEFINITELY sang Good Luck Babe to Maple while she was still married.

- Ash and Larry have a habit of leaving the group for a while and going out just the two of them to smoke and talk about life.

- She definitely has mommy issues and her mother was responsible for Ash not getting into an art/photography course.

- She has a problem with self-harm but whenever Sal says he relapsed she starts with the speech that it's not good and that he should stop.

- She hates math.

- She listened to "Do I wanna know?" thinking about Maple.

- She's the friend who has a camera, so every time she goes out with her friends she takes a bunch of pictures and gets a bunch of messages from them saying "send me the pictures from yesterday please"

- She uses kitty emojis

- She loves Instagram or any other social network where you can post photos and her feed is always methodical and organized.

- She has another Instagram, but this one is private and she uses it as a photo album (this one is not as organized) and she always posts everything about her/her life there.

- She and Sal are the "old-fashioned" friends and they make the whole group wear friendship charms, post texts on social media, take funny photos and record videos (and everyone gets on board with them).

- She writes letters (and then turns the letters into text) to all her friends all the time and always posts cute posts about them on Instagram.

- She is an alcoholic who only drinks wine.

- She's a smoker too btw.

- She and Maple have a Pinterest board where they share how they see each other with beautiful pictures.

- She is borderline and the symptom she suffers most from is dissociation and the constant desire to change.

- She is an outgoing person and talks a lot all the time.

- She loves to read and has a giant bookshelf full of books

- Even though she was the one who helped/taught Larry most of the things about art, she is insecure about her drawing style and took a while to show them to her friends often.

- She was a terrible cook as a teenager and now everyone is afraid to try what she makes, even though she has learned to cook properly.

- Her natural hair is wavy and she straightened it during her teenage years.

- She has a problem with anger and suffers a lot because of it because she sometimes pushes her friends away impulsively. And she feels that deep down everyone hates her because of it.

- She has a YouTube channel that she uses as a blog.

- She sees art in everything and is always painting and taking pictures of something.

(Just these for now because I'm sleepy)

[dandylovesturtles]

This is 2AL Propaganda

I bring you propaganda for the @rottmntpeepawpolls advocating for 2 Arms Left Leo by @intotheelliwoods in the form of another fanfic drabble! Please go check out their comic series, it is extremely good. And vote for 2AL Leo in the poll tomorrow!!

(Also Ell I'm sorry if I get f!Leo and p!Donnie's relationship wrong I TRIED

ALSO I PROMISE THIS ISN'T ANGST

also also this is set still somewhat early in his recovery time OK NOTES OVER)

...

"I can feel you lurking."

Leonardo looks up from his phone and locks eyes with Donnie, currently peeking through the crack in the curtain to his train car. He disappears from view and a moment later waltzes his way inside like he hadn't just been hiding.

"I have a question for you," he announces.

Leo sits up and drops his legs over the edge of the bed. "Shoot."

Donnie hesitates. He looks anxious, and Leo tenses in anticipation.

"It's about your timeline."

Leo's heart drops.

He'd known this would come eventually, but he'd been hoping it would be later rather than sooner. Of course they would want to know eventually, though. What happened to them. How things in his time had... ended.

He just isn't prepared for it. He isn't sure if Donnie is prepared for it, either. He's still so young. Should he really be hearing this now? What kind of damage does that cause on a young mind?

His mouth is draw when he says, "What's your question?" He scrambles to prepare answer, some way to put it off, or maybe to soften the blow, or-

"Did you still have the Lair Games in the future?"

-gape at Donnie like a fish because what?

"What?"

"Did you still have the Lair Games in the future?" Donnie repeats, a little louder as though that were the issue here.

"...We were a little busy with the whole alien apocalypse situation."

"Scoff." Donnie waves a hand. "As if a little apocalypse could stop this family from being competitive."

He has him there. Leo can't help but snort in amusement. "You're right. But it was less formal and more like... bragging about how many Krang hounds we could kill."

"Ah, I see... Well, we're lacking in those, so... goodbye."

He turns on his heel to leave.

"Hey, wait wait wait! Why the sudden interest?"

Donnie turns back around. He still looks anxious, but now Leo realizes it's more embarrassed than upset like he initially thought.

"Well, as you know, I am the current champion of the Lair Games."

"Heh, as if you'd let me forget."

"And I'm very eager to defend my title! And especially after his-slash-your nefarious tricks last time, I'm ready to grind Nardo to dust." He rubs his palms together with an unhinged glee, and Leo winces internally. Yikes. "But..." and there he stops, "Leo seems... reluctant to participate. We did not design the events with... one of us missing a limb in mind."

Ah, right. Hard to do a Handstand Hillbomb with only one arm. Even if they put things off until Leo's port and prosthetic were ready, he probably still wouldn't be experienced enough with it to do anything too taxing.

Leo could already imagine his younger counterpart had waved it off with a smile and a, "You guys have fun," and, "I'll be cheering for you." He would swing by his room later to check on him; for now he had another kid to deal with.

"So that's why you came to me?"

"I was hoping you might have some ideas for alternative events."

"Hmmm... I might be able to think of some." He grins. "On one condition."

Donnie looks wary. "What?"

"I get to play, too."

"What, so you can twist both my ankles this time!?" Donnie shakes his head. "Oh no. One of you is enough."

"Come on! It'll be fun."

"Doubt! And besides, the bylaws state that we can't add anyone to the competition."

"Ah-ah." He waves a finger. "The bylaws state that the competition is between Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, and..." He trails off, putting a hand on his plastron with a smirk.

Donnie's eyebrows are furrowed so hard they're at risk of smudging. "...You have out loopholed me, sir."

"Don't worry, I'll give you guys-"

"Do not."

"-a handicap."

"Groan! Why didn't I send Mikey to do this instead?"

"'Cause you love me." Leo gets up from the bed, walks over and catches Donnie in an affectionate headlock before he can flee. "Alright. Let's get brainstorming!"

[juuuulez]

Okay but since that anon mentioned your Capulet series, I've re-read it and as I am also re-watching The Last Of Us, I can't help but Invision pre-apocalypse Negan and Reader as Joel and Sarah, esp when the outbreak happens at school, it gave me TLOU ep 1 vibes tbh! <333

ALSOOOO I can just SEE a younger reader pulling a "drugs. I sell hardcore drugs." at Negan if she ever gave him a gift for his birthday or something post-apocalypse!

UM UM UM WHY IS THIS IN MY DRAFTS!!!! WHY DIDNT I POST THIS!!!!!!!!!!! okay lock in for my walking dead infodump

oh wow this is so cute… my TLOU and walking dead obsession go hand in hand so knowing that it gave those vibes is the biggest compliment ever

but can i admit something naughty…….

there’s actually an alternate ending to capulet. like, a “canon” version that goes along with the rest of twd……and i never wrote it because, well, it’s a carl fic, and we’ve already mourned his death once.

i’ll put some stuff about it under the cut, because who knows, maybe one day i’ll write it:

basically, if carl had of died like canon, reader would’ve went a little bit crazy. not terribly so, just paranoid, and probably bitching out even more on the saviours.

when negan’s captured it’s like the nail in the coffin, and she’d basically beg anyone to stick around and help her break him out, but nobody wants anything to do with it: the sanctuary is completely abandoned. she spends days, maybe even weeks, incessantly plotting some stupid plan, but never gets around to committing because ultimately she knows it’s slim.

this is simultaneous to rick going a little off the rails, y’know, cus his son is dead. so, with rick paying less attention, and reader still a giant red question mark on the community? maggie takes things into her own hands.

because she’s not risking negan escaping. as far as she’s concerned, you’re a loose thread, someone who could fuck this whole thing up. but being pregnant she can’t exactly do much about it, so instead, she handballs the task to michonne.

the instructions are very clear: kill her. doesn’t matter how, or where, or with what, just make sure it happens.

michonne spends maybe a day hunting you down. the second you even spot her at the sanctuary, you run, letting her chase you anywhere you can get on two legs.

that doesn’t last forever, for michonne is smarter, and probably quicker. she corners you in this dusty area at the edge of town, finally getting you down to your knees. up until this point, you’ve been a rabid animal, fighting and yelling and spitting.

but she just needs you to listen to her.

because she’s not gonna kill you.

instead? you will go far, far away. anywhere but here. and if you ever showed your face again, if anyone even caught the tiniest whiff of you, you’d be killed on sight.

that’s not a bad deal, though. compared to execution, at least.

michonne takes your bat, deciding that would have to be ample proof that she got the job done. you also hand over that little notebook you always carry, the one with drawings of carl in it.

(years later judith would find this notebook and go down to interrogate negan: before eventually suggesting that he keeps it, for he has nothing that reminds him of you. he declines and says that you’d probably wanted judith to have it).

everyone in alexandria thinks you’re dead. michonne tells maggie, who subsequently spreads the news, taking some satisfaction in telling negan, who’s downright miserable.

because it’s depressing. you had been free, and now you were dead. it was almost animalistic, like you’d been put down, like your life wasn’t human enough.

it was unfair because his mistakes got him imprisoned, whilst yours got you killed. that’s fucked up. but, it’s meant to be fucked up, because it’s meant to be a lesson.

years pass like this.

it only serves as another point of tension between negan and maggie, but that isn’t uncommon at this point.

“you killed my husband.”

“you killed my daughter.”

to which maggie would always say, “she’s not your daughter.”

not entirely untrue, but it still stung.

and now it’s 2028: the unlikely pair has ventured into new york in order to rescue hershel, and have been tipped that there’s somebody who knows the area like the back of their hand.

someone who works for the croat, but never speaks with him directly, and can therefore fly under his radar. a scavenger who travels across cities searching for any supplies that could be of use, all in exchange for safety and protection within the bounds of new york.

aaannnndddd i think you can figure out the rest

[the-irken-pony]

Haven't visited this blog in a long time, finally decided to follow. Anyways, the new Among Us show. Trailer's out. Heard of it? Thoughts?

Yes I have watched it and yes I have thoughts lol

First of, my one main criticism: I don’t think Among Us lends itself well to a thin-lined art style. At least, not as thin as the show uses. While thin line art makes animating easier and is useful for smaller details (such as hands or outfit details, the Among Us art style is already very simple and the thin line art doesn’t look nearly as nice when it’s applied to the whole body. Even just a border along the outside of the characters would be an improvement imo.

Ok now onto the good stuff lol

It looks like we could get some info on what the crewmates and the Skeld in particular actually do and what their mission is, which I love. While finding (or running from) the impostors is the point of the game, there’s a lot of small details that tie the various areas together, such as the loading room/Skeld being present in Mira HQ and Polus. By extension, I notice that a lot of characters’ concepts are drawn from the various tasks in the game, which I also like.

I have no opinion on the VAs since I don’t really recognize any of them and we didn’t get any voice clips in the trailer. Better than all the voices once again going to Big Name VAs, though.

Given that the series is drawing from the various maps for pretty much every aspect in some way or another, that means we should address the elephant in the room (or my personal hiding hole, specifically) of what they’re planning to do with the airship map. The airship map is solely an homage to Henry Stickmin and holds no remnants of the Skeld or any Among Us continuity, so it could easily be just passed over and not appear in the series at all. Alternatively, it could lend itself well to a one-off crossover episode, either being just an AU of both Among Us and THSC, or being a meeting of the Skeld crew and the AU!Toppat Clan (haha AU bc it’s an alternate universe but also it’s… sorry ignore me). Of course this all depends on if PuffballsUnited would even want to, but while I won’t keep my hopes up too high I also wouldn’t discount the possibility.

That brings me to my final concern, which strays from the main topic a bit so I’ll put it below a cut:

With the new series comes the potential for there to be a resurgence of the THSC fandom. On one hand, the THSC fandom is pretty homogenous, and it’s hard to gain traction unless you either work your way into one of two, maybe three circles of people in the fandom, or you happen to fill a specific niche that no one else does. On the other hand, while I didn’t join the fandom right after THSC released, I did catch the tail end of its time having been more popular (particularly the discourse), and that’s a part of the fandom I wouldn’t want to see revived. I won’t say that the fandom as it is now is immune or exempt from displaying toxic behavior or stirring discourse, but it is a lot better than it was around 2021. That said, my autistic ass is probably biased in that regard.

[asher-agere]

My parents helped me seek my old guitar for some money and they said next week they’ll take me out book shopping with the money and yippee I’ll be able to make my bookshelves even more filled!!

Anyways requests time :3 As me saying “requests” instead of “request” suggests, I am doing two requests in one ask because I thought of two things I wanted to request right now!! I hope that’s okay, I find it a bit less awkward to send two requests in the same ask instead of one directly after another…

Request 1: Caregiver Fyodor with a little who doesn’t say words, but does just make various sounds that are definitely not words but probably mean something! Not because of how little they regress, just because they do not like speaking in comprehensible words.

Request 2: Caregiver Shirase with Little Chuuya!! Set during when they were in the sheep together. You mentioned thinking the sheep taking turns taking care of other members regressions and I quite like that idea and I can’t stop thinking about it :3

- Fyodor Enjoyer

Woah more books? That’s so super exciting! I don’t really read much anymore sadly. Just manga and my one favorite book series. I honestly miss reading ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა But my attention span is far from what it used to be. But I love both of these ideas! Meaning it’s time for a…

♫ 2 Part Request ♫

Caregiver Fyodor + Non-Verbal Little

⋆♱✮♱⋆

ִֶָ࣪☾. Sometimes the age that someone regresses to has no impact on if they’re non-verbal or not! Younger ages tend to be non-verbal yes. But someone can regress to a bigger age like 6-7 and still be non-verbal! And there’s nothing wrong with that! ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ) Sometimes words are just yucky. And a little one shouldn’t have to do yucky stuff!

ִֶָ࣪☾. I think initially Fyodor might be confused? If he asked his little one their age and they said they’re feeling bigger, and they’re acting like they’re in a bigger headspace, he’d expect them to be able to talk! Even if their pronunciation and grammar is far from perfect, he’d still expect words. But once he gets over that initial shock he’s all good! No judgement from him!

ִֶָ࣪☾. I think that Fyodor would almost obsessively try to figure out what each of the little noises means. He wants to communicate with his baby! That takes time though. Which means he’ll just talk to his little one a whole lot! While they’re watching a show, playing, coloring. He’ll just idly talk to them! He takes mental note of the noises made, the context, and what it could possibly mean! He likes knowing everything, especially about his little one

ִֶָ࣪☾. Once Fyodor figures out what most of the noises mean he’ll proudly make use of this information! He’ll constantly converse with his little one, he’ll ask about what they’re playing or drawing, what they think about the show they’re watching, everything! Anytime there’s a noise he doesn’t understand yet he’ll just calmly ask “What was that my dear?” Hopefully he’ll get a compliant baby and they’ll repeat the noise! Once again he’ll store away the important information!

ִֶָ࣪☾. During the time Fyodor is still learning what all the noises mean I don’t think he’d find alternative ways to communicate. Would that be easier? Probably. But these babbling noises are what his darling is most comfortable with. And how will he learn what they mean if they just find an alternative? If something is super important though he’ll try making it into a yes or no option so they can just shake or nod their head. Only as a necessity though!

ִֶָ࣪☾. Fyodor would never force them to actually talk. He doesn’t want to make them uncomfortable! If they’re not talking then they’re clearly uncomfortable talking for whatever reason. He doesn’t want to push them! That’s like making a baby grow up to fast, which is the literal opposite of what regression is supposed to be

ִֶָ࣪☾. I think that Fyodor would learn babble language really quickly! He’d very intelligent. His good memory can store away all the important information while he uses his intellect to make sense of it! With those skills combined together Fyodor would learn incredibly quickly. Wouldn’t take long at all before he’s at the stage of understanding his little one completely

⋆♱✮♱⋆

Sorry this one feels kinda short (｡•́︿•̀｡) I felt like I articulated all my thoughts on this idea then I looked and I was like oh- That’s like really not a lot. Hmm. But luckily this’ll be posted simultaneously with the next part so there will be more to read!

[yenn-reads]

A new month, new favorite series. And this month it’s going to be spooky.

Where are all my monster fuckers?

I have some treats for you. I have to admit it was hard this time to decide on three stories and maybe some of you are a little disappointed not to see their favorite monsters. I'm 100% a vampire fucker. I always was and always will be. So there's a lot of them in here today.

But like always, if you have your own favorite, tell me in your reblog. Share all the vampires, werewolves, ghosts or whatever monster series you love!

These are mine:

The Pull

Vampire!Henry Cavill x OFC Rowena (💕🔥🌩, status: completed)

@sillyrabbit81 is one of my favorites. I don't think anything I've read by her has ever disappointed. But this one really needs more praise. The story of the Crown Prince of Vampires Henry and his mate Rowena is breathtaking. It is full of emotions and the plot will keep you hooked until you manage to read all 25 parts. And if that's not enough to draw you in, perhaps the cameo appearance of Werewolf! Alexander Skarsgard will make you read it. You definitely should!

Natural

Mikey (+Walter+August+Sherlock) x reader (💕🔥🌩, status: ongoing)

This is my all-time favorite supernatural story, ever! @raccoon-eyed-rebel built a world and a whole lore around this story that is absolutely spectacular. It's fun, it's romantic, it's heart-breaking, it's hot. And because she has the incredible talent to put more than just one Henry-shaped guy into a story and make it work, we get Mike, August, Walter and Sherlock to live with us. All of their characters are built so uniquely, you're going to love them all. So it's a good thing we're in a slowly developing reverse harem.

And because I'm an annoying little fan girl I got some glimpses and spoilers for it and let me tell you, @raccoon-eyed-rebel is going to give us some really good stuff for this one!

Worship

Hades (Geralt/August) x OFC Eliza (💕🔥🌩, status: completed)

Second post, second time I have @daydreaming-in-letters on my list. Though this wasn't intentionally, it's far from a mistake. Because she is a favorite writer of me for a reason. And her Hades-AU is my favorite of her stories. It's absolutely unique. As always @daydreaming-in-letters knows exactly how to build worlds and atmosphere with her words. Let her take you to the underworld. Get to know Hades. In his divine form or his human resemblance. He will take your breath away.

Take a look at those stories, read, reblog, talk about them. Every time I see someone of my mutuals reblog something I recommended, my heart fills with joy. And be sure, the heart of the writer feels the same.

By the way, sorry for shameless self promotion but I couldn't let that opportunity slip, if you still want more vampires, you could also take a look at my own series

[vampiremeerkat]

I kinda need some advice (if you're comfortable giving), how does one keep their cool/sanity in the hellish atmosphere that is fandom nowadays? I really wanna get back to fanart and stuff as purely a hobby (and it was a huge part of my childhood) but considering how much of a warzone it is nowadays, I dunno if I can. Got anything?

Don't think I'm the right person to ask, I've not had that many entanglements with fellow fans throughout my online career. It's easy to assume that's because my overall viewership/online presence is low, but I've had the occasional semi-viral success and always enjoyed more praise than "criticism". I'd say fandoms in general are lenient and supportive, but every and any kind of community in the world has an insufferable minority. They shout and have alot of time on their hands, making it seem like you're dealing with a crowd, but that's never the case. Even if hundreds of people jump you, billions walk the Earth; it's not even a fraction of a percent you've displeased. But here's an actual answer to your question: In short:

Choose your fandoms wisely.

Don't overstay your welcome by sticking with one.

Don't join any online communities or participate in ongoing discourse. You're only here to draw.

Train yourself to understand that nothing in life fucking matters anyway. :(

In ｌｏｎｇ: I switch my focus alot. If I attract fans of a particular fandom, but the next thing I show off is less likely to tickle their interest, most will leave again, and it's kinda protecting me from growing an unsettlingly invested fanbase. Praise and attention never motivated me to stick around with one series for long, because I know what's waiting around the corner and don't want to be known as "the <insert this one piece of media here> artist", anyway. Look at my nonsense and go away, I just want to die alone! I'm also not active at any online forums and rarely look up and comment on other people's work. Spares you alot of "who asked you"-styled responses. I might've not when I was younger, but agree with the sentiment now. Unless you come across something criminal, why intrude on someone else's fun. Grumble about it on your account if you must, but don't take it to theirs.. even though it's valid to argue that posting something online is an automatic invitation for others to critique it, especially when you don't apply any form of visibility restrictions. I don't really care to discuss ideas with fellow fans. Weird claim, since my Tumblr exists, but I started this account to post Deviantart stuff. People showed up one day and started asking questions about the fandoms I've been involved in (or haven't), but it's not my hobby to get deep about a fictional property. Without getting instigated, anyway. I think about a question's subject as I read the words, do my best to dissect the whole thing and not throw around one-sentence replies, but seldom have the answer ready in my head. The3Eds was the only forum I enjoyed myself at, and the things I talked about over there barely had anything to do with Ed, Edd n Eddy. In the end, no one will be able to offer you one foolproof strategy on this matter. There've been many artists in the past who minded their business and were slaughtered by strangers. You need to be the kind of person who doesn't take online verbal abuse to bed. That's hard to do if you're looking for validation. You could avoid large fandoms that are known to attract the overly defensive and offensive, but if you have to tiptoe through life for others, what's even the point. Know that the internet is a luxury you don't have to participate in. Log off for a week or so if you're feeling down, or alternatively, delete all comment notifications indiscriminately as you keep on doing your thing.. unless you insist on deleting negative comments, but I don't think you should. Why stop people from embarrassing themselves in public. I don't think I've ever deleted comments, unless it's copy-pasted stuff/spam, because what often happens is that the poster regrets and deletes it themselves. I suppose that has value too. Allow that shit to stay alive, so the poster may one day return to it and potentially realise they're better than that. It's easier to keep your calm when you humanize your critics, if you can. The way a person expresses themselves may be trash, but what is it they're saying, and can the reason be empathized with? Sometimes you're dealing with someone who's obviously a child. I struggle to get angry at people under the age of 20. But really -and more importantly- no one should waste their time on fighting fellow fans when it concerns an issue that's objectively not important, you have better things to do. Try to close your eyes for it, it's seldom personal, even if the attacks try to be. People can pretend, but they don't know you and never will.

[quartings-main-blog]

Pseudo Harem Reviews: Episode 11

Finally, we’re at my favorite arc!! I think they did it justice, more or less. It was so great seeing Cheeky and Tsundere chan out in full force! My one wish not just from the arc, but from the series as a whole was to see Cool-chan more involved here, but given how her absence is mentioned in the actual manga, I knew this was just a pipe dream, haha.

I’m impressed that they composed and wrote out the whole Angel Jewel song- it’s pretty cute! Also I love the irony that Rin doesn’t think she can sing well when her VA sings the ending sequence (plus an alternate version of the opening sequence too), plus many other acclaimed songs in her career!

I see they put a lot of effort into the backgrounds this episode- it always blows me away just how well all these different anime can draw the Japanese cityscape when they need to! Though I wish I could say the same about the animation quality- we still have multiple noticeable off-model shots, and the scene of Eiji and Rin playing at the beach is notoriously bad- it’s just a lot of looped 4-frame shots over and over that don’t match up with the voice acting. I bet even some smarter directing could make the scene work better without much extra workload for the animators. It makes me wonder if this show was just given a criminally low budget because this is a low-action romcom. But then other slice-of-life I’ve watched like Squid Girl and especially Komi have crazy good animation, and even less-intensive shows like Takagi still have passable animation. Idunno…

On the brighter side of things, I’d say that similar to previous episodes, the quality does get better in the second half of the episode- and we’re beginning to ramp up into the show’s final arc! Given how this anime has cut some major moments, all I can ask for at this point is that they keep the final-final chapter (manga readers will know the one) fully intact and even extend it! Peeking into the spoilery song titles released soundtrack on Spotify tells us that we’re likely getting it, so fingers crossed!

And finally on the note of the soundtrack, they also have a 1min30s version of the magical girl anime opening our cast was listening to in this episode! You can check it out if you want!

[mischief-lies-and-stories]

11 Thoughts I Had While Reading Loki Issue 3

Contains spoilers for the first three issues (but mostly the third issue) of the Loki miniseries. Also likely contains spoilers for many of the comics starring or featuring Loki I normally talk about (including King Thor, Loki: Agent of Asgard, Defenders: Beyond, Young Avengers). Also alternating pronouns for Loki throughout.

So in the "And that's what you missed on Glee" (by which I mean the recap/prologue), they explicitly call Loki the God of Stories, which apparently I missed or forgot about in Chapter Two (or they didn't call him that, but I think they did). So, post-Agent of Asgard, but as yet unclear (to me) if post-Defenders: Beyond or mid-Defenders: Beyond or what.

"But we know what you're probably wondering. What has any of this got to do with Loki?" WHOLE-ASS MOOD. That's what I'm constantly thinking!

Can I just say how much I love whenever Loki hangs out with their Young Avengers friends post-Young Avengers? The YA aren't exactly warm towards them anymore, but they're also not outright hostile usually, so they're almost real friends. It's sweet. Loki deserves to have more than just Verity and Thor in their life. (And they don't even have Verity in this comic, which I'm upset about.)

Loki's look in this issue is just peak genderfluid Loki for me. The fingerless gloves, the coat, the black nail polish, the slightly less angular but not quite smoothed over facial features, the slightly longer and wavier than usual but not shoulder-length hair with the bang flipped over one horn. The make-up.

(I did not take this picture for this post. I took this picture because I love the way they look in this panel and needed to save it to look at later.) And there was something about his chest on the cover that I couldn't quite put my finger on, but I just put on my binder and looked at myself in the mirror and something about how my chest looks in the binder made me go 'Is Loki wearing a binder?' (This is just my personal headcanon based on the similarities in appearance from my current experience, I don't necessarily think the artist intended to draw him while hinting at a binder, and I'm not even sure how you would do that without showing all or part of the binder itself. Practically, it could just be the effect of his armor. But I'm going with it, even though Loki can shapeshift.)

KO-MIR PULLING A LOKI IN KING THOR CHILLING (no pun intended) IN A SUN

Not me stretching the allegory of Ko-mir to its breaking point trying to make it relevant to Loki.

Ultimately, I don't care how much of a lie the story of how Loki got the piece of Naglfar back is. I love watching Loki at peak power, even if it's not true. I mean, he achieved it somehow, who's to say he didn't do it this way?

The way Loki has nail polish on his cuticles. Something about how his hand isn't steady and he's not so much a perfectionist that he won't go back over the edges with rubbing alcohol afterwards.

Should...should I know who Bullseye is? The only Bullseye I know is a gangly toy horse. This guy looks like someone tried to make a Captain America toy but wanted to avoid a lawsuit.

"Corporate wants you to find the differences between these two pictures" meme, but it's Muck Mulligan making mob bosses' eyes bleed with the Good News of Naglfar, and an Early Modern painting of missionaries bringing typhoid and gunpowder--I mean, Christianity, to the far corners of the world.

So final thoughts re:my post before issue three came out: I wrote an entire note about when I thought this series takes place in Loki's comic arc, and in explaining why I thought it occurred then I ended up talking myself out of it. So at this point I actually think this is after DB, like entirely after DB. He seems enough like his end of AoA (post-ego death) self that I think her memories have been restored to her. The only thing is that Thor isn't dead, like he is for this iteration of Loki, which is established right at the beginning of DB (the timeline for that comic is really confusing), and implied that Loki had a hand in it (again). I think Loki's memories have been restored post-DB, and that enough time has passed since then that Thor's come back (as he tends to do). Probably other comics have established how/why he died in that part of the timeline and then how he came back, and then at some point after those events I think is when this miniseries takes place. Loki isn't quite their old self again, but is sorting through their memories and current personhood and trying to reconcile the two, as well as reclaiming her vocation to save the cosmos (from the end of DB) and figuring out what that means. And making up for past and current mistakes in the form of stopping the pieces of Naglfar from wreaking havoc on the universe. Very much looking forward to what issue four and beyond has in store for him; I think we might finally be back on track for what Al Ewing had envisioned for this character and I'm appreciating that a lot.

What did you all think of this issue? When do you think it takes place, or do you think it's its own timeline that is just cherrypicking interesting story beats from comic Lokis past?