#(i say as i draw her abstracting anyway)

[dovewingkinnie]

what if she abstracts because of caine

[sevi-rous]

AN ARTIST FOR AN ARTIST 📜

xavier thorpe.

word count : 1.196

genre : fluff, schoolmates to lovers (?), mutual pining

warnings : bad grammar i think, a few errors [ please ignore ! ]

being raised in a family of artistic vampires was an emotional roller coaster. there was your mother, who had a ridiculous fondness for landscape painting. your father, who enjoyed abstract paintings and portrait drawings. your brother, who was a fan of realism. and, of course, you, who was a mixture of them all.

you were walking around campus, looking for anything interesting to draw or paint. you came to a halt near the archery field and noticed xavier thorpe sitting down with his bow beside him. you turned around and sat down on the nearest chair.

you began drawing him because you found his appearance intriguing. his face shape was... pretty. of course, in your own opinion. your gaze alternates between him and your sketchbook. your fingertips were filthy from smudging the pencil. you were finished in a matter of minutes. you sighed and stood up to return to your dorm.

"oh, who's that?" inquired your roommate, yoko. you flinched and instinctively shut your sketchbook. "uh, no one. it's my oc. original character, i mean..." you said as you sat up in bed. "are you sure? that looks exactly like xavier thorpe. since when was he your 'original character?'" she asks, chuckling.

you sighed and leaned back in your bed. turning to the side "oooh, do you like him? i can set you up with him," she whistles as she walks to her side of the room. "and how will you do that? you're not even close, yoko. i think you don't even talk together," you say, sitting up again, arms crossed across your chest.

"oh shush, [name]. we're not close, but we have this secret society. i hope you understand," she said as she opened her notebook. she takes out a pen and starts writing. she then folds it into an airplane and launches it at you.

you caught the plane and unfolded the paper. It was written there,

"xavier thorpe's phone number — xxx-xxxx-xxx

thank me later, ♡"

you give her a blank look before taking your phone and leaving the room. "stay safe, my lovely [name!]," she exclaims before laughing.

you put your hood on when you noticed it was raining outside. you walked through the halls, holding the paper that yoko had given you as well as your phone. you went around in circles, debating whether or not to text him. a notification appeared as you were about to enter his phone number.

from unknown:

hey, i saw you staring. do we have a problem?

to unknown:

uh

who even r u

fom unknown:

dang you already forgot? seems like you were having a good time staring at me earlier

lol kidding

it's xavier

to unknown:

oh

sorry i stared, didn't know u saw me

from unknown:

how couldn't i? you have a very powerful aura

to unknown:

i do?

from unknown:

yeah

what do you say about meeting up rn? i'm bored

to unknown:

um sure i guess

i have nothing to do anyways

from unknown:

i know

unknown started sharing their location with you.

you ran back to your dorm room, your fingers running through your hair. you rushed through the door, grabbing your sketchbook in haste. "woah, easy [name], are you okay?" yoko asks, but you've already left. "my roomie has a crush. i can't wait to tease her about this," she sighs and laughs.

when you see him waiting for you, you hide in a corner. he was sketching something in his own sketchbook. he had airpods in both of his ears. you can tell he's lost in the music because he kept bopping his head to the beat. it's nice to see him at ease.

you approach him slowly, but he is too preoccupied with drawing. you sit next to him, peering at what he's drawing. he flinched seeing you next to him, then hugged his sketchbook as if it were going to vanish. you both look at each other in shock, but when you see his face, you start laughing.

"why are you laughing?" he inquired, removing one of his airpods and placing it in its case. he flipped the sketchbook over and placed it beside him so you couldn't see it. "your face is hilarious," you continued to laugh.

"is that supposed to be a compliment or not?" you ask, making him scoff. "we only met today, and you're already making fun of me," he said, putting his hand on his chest and acting hurt. you laughed at his antics and looked through his sketchbook. "what did you draw earlier?"

"uh, random stuff. do you want to see my ability?" he asks, his gaze drawn to yours. "sure, bet it's cool."

"oh, it is," he laughs as he takes up his sketchbook. he turns to a page where he drew a spider. he holds his hands above the drawing, and you can see the spider slowly emerge from it. "woah, that's cool. is it real?" you exclaim, your eyes wide with admiration and curiosity. "no, squish it."

you let the spider crawl onto your hands then you squish the spider. the spider vanishes into dust. xavier can't seem to take his gaze away from you as your mouth forms a 'o.'

"say... why were you staring at me earlier? at the archery field?" he asks abruptly, jolting you awake from your daydream. "oh that. um," you fiddle with your fingers, debating whether or not to show him what you drew.

you sighed, lost. you reached for your sketchbook, which was resting on your thighs, and turned to the last page. you look away from him as you hand him your book.

he silently scans the page. you were clearly thinking a lot. 'was he mad that I drew him without his permission?' 'does the drawing look bad? "Am I bad at portrai—'

when he handed you back your book, you snapped out of your thoughts. when you looked at him, he was looking straight ahead. he appeared to have a lot on his mind.

"is it bad?" you wonder nervously. you were on the verge of fleeing, too embarrassed to listen to what he had to say. he gives you a quick glance before returning his attention to the scenery in front of him.

you were about to turn away when you noticed a small smile on his face. "no one's ever drawn me. i figured no one would draw me because I'm the artist. but you did. it's nice seeing my face on your sketchbook. it's nice. really nice," he rambles, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.

"actually, i've been drawing you as well. i saw you once at Weathervane and you looked... cool. i don't usually leave nevermore, but i came to stop by weathervane every single day just to see you. oh god, that... sounds creepy, sorry," he laughs nervously, avoiding your gaze.

"no, it's fine. you're cool. this is all... so cool," you say, smiling up at the ceiling. "thank you," he mumbles.

"hm? for what?"

"for drawing me."

"And thank you," you say with a smile.

he looks at you, puzzled.

"for drawing me as well."

© sevi-rous (0i8ma). do not plagiarize, copy, repost, or translate my work. reblogs are appreciated.

[ravioliet]

ok so let me be cringe on main for a minute here (this is a joke btw i know cringe isn't real). odd squad mlp au for your consideration

please ask me questions about this by the way i have so much for this. i'll put some of the basic info (it's a lot more than that now but in my defense it started as a basic summary) and a few more drawings under the cut though please look at it with your eyes thank you

so for some basic explanations we have Olive who is a unicorn, Otto who is a pegasus, Olympia who is a part unicorn earth pony (which i'll explain in a sec), and Otis who is a full blooded pegasus (which i'll also explain the importance of in a moment). i haven't drawn Ms. O, Oscar or Oona yet but they are an alicorn (formerly an earth pony), a unicorn, and an earth pony respectively

Olive and Otto are the only two that i've come up with cutie mark designs for so far (they are so hard to design..) but Olympia and Otis have them too, they just get them mid-season. specifically after the talent show. i'm designing them side by side so that they kinda match because they get them at the same time and also they're besties your honor, but anyways theirs are a little fireworks design and some sort of a swan design because y'know. the ugly duckling story. and also i think part of his talent is dancing and like swan lake exists etc etc. and yes this does mean that he's a little bit scared of his own cutie mark at times but he just tries not to think about it and usually covers it with his wings anyway. all four of their cutie mark meanings are kinda abstract personality trait related things

Olive got hers after stopping the pienado because character development moments, which also kinda means that she's sorta tied to Todd because of this which she Does Not Like. i'll need to make a whole other post about Todd in this au because he's definitely a guy, but anyways while they were partners Olive was a blank flank and despite how good at his job he was Todd was one too and it was like one of the only things they really had in common, but it also ends up being one of the reasons he goes rogue because not only is Todd bored but he's also frustrated because he's tried everything he can think of and won every award he possibly can and he still doesn't have a cutie mark even though he feels like he definitely should by now because this has to be his talent. why would he be so good at it if it wasn't? he doesn't get his cutie mark until after he reforms btw, because before then he was either too certain about his talent being something else or too busy causing trouble to entertain himself that he never really took the time to stop and discover that his actual interest was gardening and that's when he finally gets his cutie mark. in my head i have this alternate version of Otis's tomato speech where when Todd is like "i'm Odd Todd it's who i am" Otis is just like "that's not what your cutie mark says" and it's very silly but anyways i'm gonna circle this back around to Olive real quick

so on top of Todd's cutie mark being in gardening he also has a sort of side meaning as well in the sense that he's a little bit like the CMC and has a sort of knack for encouraging character growth in others whether he realizes it or not because. encouraging plants to grow.. encouraging people to grow... the whole villain rehab thing...... you see what i'm getting at here. but the funny thing is the first pony he really did this to was Olive and it was completely unintentional. he didn't know that she would get her cutie mark by stopping him, at least not consciously, but she did. it probably takes him quite some time before he actually puts together the fact that he's had that talent the whole time.

Otto's cutie mark is a lot sillier. he actually doesn't know how he got it or what it means (as mentioned earlier it's symbolic but he doesn't know that. also shoutout to Shroom aka Evillandscaper for suggesting a paper crane because i did NOT know what i was gonna make it) he just kinda walked into work one day and Olive was like "oh cool you got your cutie mark?" and Otto was just like "WAIT I GOT MY CUTIE MARK?????" cue a whole silly filler episode involving the two of them trying to figure out what it means and also Olive having a crisis over the fact that Otto can do that pegasus thing where they use their wings like cartoon hands. both of these become running bits from then on. also i drew this comic about it and it might be one of my favorite things i've made for this au honestly

and on the topic of cutie marks as i previously mentioned, Olympia and Otis both get theirs after the talent show and they're also matching a little bit. theirs are also personality things but in addition to that Otis's is also for dancing and Olympia's is for magic, and you may be wondering how an earth pony can be a magic talent and this is where that half unicorn thing comes in!

so Olympia is half unicorn half earth pony which i don't think is too uncommon on its own, but the thing that makes her weird is that she inherited traits from both sides instead of just one over the other, so she actually has unicorn magic but no horn to actually use it with so she's unable to cast actual spells or anything but her magic will kinda spill over at times, especially if she's emotional, and cause things to happen like that one time she exploded into glitter when interviewing Olive or of course the fireworks! she's kind of like the Pinkie Pie character who just does unexplained things sometimes she's just very silly. fun fact in her ref you can see that her mane and tail are sparkly and that's because they kinda just perpetually look like they have glitter in them, but the thing is it's not really glitter it's all just magic. i imagine her coat is like this as well but i just didn't draw it in

also as a side note it came to my attention that she bears an uncanny similarity to Sparkleworks from G3 and i have absolutely no idea how that happened At All. like they have the same cutie mark and everything it's so weird. i've never even watched G3 i'm a G4 kid i legitimately have no clue how the hell this happened. i did make this out of it though

anyways for Otis, he's a pegasus of course but he's specifically a Cloudsdale weather pegasus, which yes i did make up but hear me out. so basically in my mind pegasi born in somewhere like Cloudsdale are more likely to have weather talents or like. stronger abilities in controlling the weather and such, which means stuff like larger wings and weatherproof wings and feathers to make it easier to deal with storms and stuff like that, so basically all this is just an excuse for me to give Otis waterproof feathers like a duck. but anyways since he was still raised by the ducks he doesn't actually know he's from Cloudsdale or anything so he just thinks he's weird for the feathers thing

okay i have. way more but i'm cutting myself off here so i don't overload everyone with information but anyways, please ask me about them, and also here's some extra drawings i've done of them :3

[mantisgodsart]

[...isolation of the transformation appears to worsen the standard disorientation of a new body. I believe that the familiarity of the upper body may be offsetting the psychological impact of the lower body - as not everything has changed, the subject still "expects", on some level, that their body will work similarly, despite radical changes to organ systems and locomotion and the near-total overhaul of the centre of gravity.]

[The subject appears to be leaning on hexapodal motion as a type of "crutch", despite the size of the lower body making most of these sorts of motions awkward at best - the tournament venue doesn't currently have many internal spaces sufficient to test this one's mobility, but outdoors venues seem more promising for testing, anyways. This confirms something that I've previously suspected, as well - subjects find it more difficult to adjust to addition of new limbs than they do subtraction of limbs.]

[Subject appears to exhibit difficulty with coordination in the lower limbs, and has adopted an extremely "cautious" form of motion, taking steps with one limb at a time. The difference between upper and lower limbs means that this mode of movement is extremely... clumsy, to say the least. I intend to keep them under observation for a few more days before release and see if this resolves within the initial settling period or not. After that, just some periodic check-ins should be...]

Hello, and welcome to: watercolor paintings for Round 2 of @bug-oc transmutations! Mirach by @ghost-of-hallownest. Some extra details under cut because this is a long post and we don't want to make it longer.

This one is based pretty heavily on Dragon!Falin from Dungeon Meshi, but we're bringing through some lizard-y aspects from last year, and very much having fun with the tabby-cat patterns on the back - though technically speaking, Mirach's blue is limited to her wings, adding some markings to the body helps us break up that big plane of sandy yellows and add some interest to the design. We think it turned out well!

If we could fit it in, we'd add a third bit of Marigold notes related to the actual transmutation method, since it's been living in our brain for a while, and we think our Potion Drawing might be a bit... abstract, otherwise?

More or less, the weave - the active transmutation medium - is woven to the inside of the lasso's... lasso, and upon encircling something with it, the weave is transferred to the target, thus making the lasso fall apart entirely as a major component of its structure abruptly ceases to be part of the object.

This transfer-and-break is the same general method through which most of Marigold's "one-use" charms work - as the effect is now tied to the target's body, rather than an object, it simply remains in effect until the weave "wears in" to the body entirely, shifting it from an effect active on the subject to a part of the subject's body.

This means that, before the effect is fully integrated into the body, it can be broken, though as with all charmcraft some effects may still linger. This also makes it so, technically, the charmcraft only casts an effect on the caster - the same effect through which pretty much all Medals work - rather than being a direct interface a la wiring it directly into the bug's body, which is illegal and what Marigold spends a lot of time tiptoing around to produce major effects on a bug's body without the single most useful method for bodily alteration Charmcraft has to offer.

...that was longer than we really expected it to be. We are working on the other contestants, both of this round and the last, though it's going very slowly seeing as the afternoon sun is currently hot enough to melt our brain into a fine sludge. We've got a solid idea of all three other Round 2 designs, and we've finally got a sketch for Mal - though Pola is being delayed, still, due to our poor comics-making decisions. We're working on it! Slowly!

If we could figure out how in the hell to represent it visually, we'd be working on making a loser's bracket, too, but as is... listen, we're not a graphics designer for a reason. If you are a graphics designer and we can outsource designing a loser's bracket to you then please contact us. We have a budget of approximately ten dollars. We can do PayPal but if your payment processor of choice is US-exclusive we cannot help you.

[livi-in-digital-circus]

Here are some songs that I think would match Ragatha/Miss Agatha and Jax/Jackson in your AU!!!

Ragatha/Miss Agatha:

- the grudge by Olivia Rodrigo would work with her and her terrible fiancé, especially after what he did to her baby. I think it could also work with her and Jax after she slapped him.

- Diet Mountain Dew by Lana Del Rey would work both Ragatha and Jax. It fits their will-they-won’t-they narrative.

- Bigger Than The Whole Sky by Taylor Swift. This song reminds me a lot of Agatha’s miscarriage and the horrible feelings that came with it. It’s the moment where everything in her world fell apart.

- Lose You To Love Me and Single Soon by Selena Gomez. The first one would work with Ragatha’s regrets over her past relationship with her ex, while the second one highlights a happier ending for her. It’s her new start with Jax, specifically her getting ready for the dance with him!

Jax/Jackson:

- Dancing With Our Hands Tied by Taylor Swift. I feel like this matches the dance scene, before everything fell apart of course.

- teenage dream by Olivia Rodrigo. This song would probably reflect the aftermath of Agatha’s coma and all the pain Jackson went through after finding out. Although this isn’t canon to the story, I feel like this would fit his 18th birthday party without her.

- Love You Down by Ready For The World. This song would resonate a lot with Jackson’s one-sided crush on his brother’s teacher and the dreams he had about her.

- Colors by Halsey would definitely work with Jax’s dreams about his past. It summarizes all the people and all the feelings he ignores to avoid feeling anything.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy these choices :D. Your AU has been one of my favorite TADC AUs I ever read. The amount of emotion, drama, and romance was captured perfectly without feeling OOC. Keep up the great work Livi!

AAAAAA THANK YOU SO SO MUCH 💕

I don't know why I didn't think of adding more Taylor and Olivia songs to my playlist, but I actually had those two Selena songs somewhere in the back of my head while making it!

I'll listen to all the songs when I get home from school in 10+ hours (it's past 1 AM here lol)

I would also like to take this opportunity to explain some of the Korean songs on the playlist:

Prologue by aespa is about feeling immature and not ready for adulthood, to me it fits Agatha perfectly because even though she has been an adult for some time, she still has the heart of a teenager and has trouble dealing with some adult issues

Checkmate by Xdinary Heroes is about feeling confident because of a won game, I relate this song to the moment when Jax's attack on Ragatha during their stage play was successful

The Ugly Duckling by YENA, well I interpreted the song's lyrics much differently than it should be interpreted, I relate it to Agatha's miscarriage due to the lyrics being about trying to move on after a horrible event and there is also a child mentioned so-

War of Hormone by BTS is a very controversial song which that has been accused of considering girls playthings for boys, basically Jax's attitude towards Ragatha before she almost abstracted

Doll by (G)I-DLE, the title says it all, it perfectly describes how Ragatha was treated by Jax and how she's fed up with it

Quarter Life by TOMORROW X TOGETHER is another song about finding adult life kind of hard and trying to go on despite you already screwed up a lot of things, every time I hear this song I think of Jax and how he feels after remembering his former life

Lonely Boy by TOMORROW X TOGETHER is a breakup song that in my opinion fits how Jackson felt after losing Agatha

Happily Ever After by TOMORROW X TOGETHER (yeah, it's my fav boysband lol) is the song I had in mind while writing the last chapter, even though it's upbeat it tells about how cruel life is and that there's actually no happy end, just like in the story :D

And thank you for enjoying my AU! At first I thought it would fail as it has no drawings (I'm really terrible at drawing + I can't do digital art) and focuses more on writing, but the amount of support and love my work has received in these few months makes me incredibly happy 🥺

[crystal-fems]

Current thoughts on the Pearl/Greg situation…

First of all, It’s crazy coming back to this Steven Universe centered blog after all these years since I still hold so much love in my heart for this show that allowed me to discover who I am and live with confidence as well as helping me through many rough periods in my life. And now since we’re suddenly getting a few trickles of new content here and there (and discourse, but it’s SU so that’s always been a part of the fandom lol) I’m getting the feeling we’ll be getting some kind of big announcement sometime soon. Fingers crossed!

But alas, on the GregPearl early drawings that Raven, a former storyboard artist leaked that were drawn by Rebecca that have been resurfacing around the internet, I am able to see both sides. And incoming is a bit of a rant on the latest debacle…

At the end of the day these are Rebecca Sugar’s (Who is bisexual and genderfluid btw) original characters who she poured her heart and soul into, a lot of whom she based characteristics around herself and the people in her life. So first and foremost, what she decides to do with these characters is up to her. Not you. Of course you’re allowed to have your opinion on it, but Rebecca is nowhere in the wrong here and I’m tired of hearing about it because of the lgbtqia+ community’s blatant biphobia. She also fought tooth and nail to have a wlw wedding in her show but people have the audacity to say this is lesbophobic when these concepts and personal sketches were drawn very early on anyway and not even implemented into the fucking show.

Now on the other hand, I also understand where certain people are coming from to an extent. It’s odd for me personally to see Pearl with Greg and really any other man for that instance, as she’s always been lesbian representation to me and many others as well. At the time, she was the representation in cartoons that we so desperately wanted and needed. She was actually the first character that made me realize I was attracted to women in the first place. And because of that, many of us attached so heavily to this part of her identity which was never officially confirmed.

But you know what’s forgotten? Pearl is also nonbinary. All of the gems are nonbinary. But there’s erasure in that too of course because the community only wants to see her as a futch presenting lesbian when in reality, she physically can’t be that. Now don’t twist my words and think I’m for a second implying that you can’t be nonbinary and a lesbian, because that’s just not true either, but she’s supposed to be an alien for fuck’s sake. The whole idea of gender and sexuality is completely abstract to her species. AND ESPECIALLY SO in a world so inclusive and accepting of everyone, no matter what race, ethnicity, physical capability, gender identities and sexualities. You’d think for a show with a plot that’s so integral on being open about embracing who you are and not being afraid to love yourself as well as the people around you no matter the status quo, that people would have a little more open-mindedness and compassion.

[conchiferrous]

repair and maintenance qualification

[IMAGE ID, IMAGE 1: Digitally drawn One Piece fan comic featuring Robin and Franky, pre-time skip. The first panel shows Robin on her knees holding herself up over Franky's lap. They're facing each other, and Franky's backside facing the viewer. His chest can still be seen from the side and his endo skeleton is exposed, and Robin is holding up non distinct wires coming out of Franky's chest with her right hand, and gripping Franky's left shoulder with her left hand. Robin looks panicked while Franky looks her in the eyes, an exhausted and worried expression on his face, and tells her: "Hey, relax. You told me you could handle this." Franky's sitting himself up using his arms, his right arm has been stripped bare and is drawn completely robotic. It's depicted as a series of iron bars in the shape of Franky's large barrel forearm, the robotic internals can be seen between these bars, drawn as a series of vertical piping and wires, though it's dark and hard to see. Franky is wearing a light green shirt and his speedos, while Robin is wearing her Galley Company shirt and purple shorts. They are drawn in a sort of cartoony style with sharp geometric angles. The second panel, drawn in the corner of the first larger panel, shows a close up of Franky's half exposed chest. While still drawn in a cartoonish manner, the edges are all rounded. The synthetic skin on his left pectoral has been torn off, leaving jagged edges on the sides of the hole. His chest muscles have been replaced with a sort of iron lattice in the shape of pectorals, various random wires can be seen behind it in various different colors. Robin is hovering her hand over the exposed area of his chest, the yellow wires still in hand. She's saying, "Sorry, I've never had to repair something with a heartbeat before." The text appears as boxes outside of this panel, with the Sorry handwritten and shown above this panel, and the rest of the text typed out in a nice calligraphy font (pristina). Drawn over top of the second panel is a heart, drawn over the covered side of Franky's chest with veins streaming out of it in various directions, as well as a few random gears drawn in the top corners and the bottom middle of the panel. The background for the entire drawing are abstract multicolored zigzag lines, mostly in hues of blue and purple. Franky and Robin are colored in bright hues, but stay mostly true to their canonical color palettes. Robins hair is colored as a dark purple, is darker skinned, has black nail polish, and her eyes have greenish yellow sclera with red irises. Franky's nose is a dull green and has red pupils. IMAGE 2: Continuation of the comic. The background is a gradient of dark blue to black, getting darker on the lower side of the drawing. There are no panels, and only two drawings. The first is in the top left corner of the drawing, and shows Robin saying: "Why did you let me do this, anyways?" in large white italic text. There is a closeup sketch of her eyes, drawn in blue pen, looking up, worried. The second drawing, on the right side of the canvas, is a sketch of Franky, from the lower half of his face down to his chest. He still looks exhausted, but his shoulders are relaxed. Only Robin's arms are visible, and she has her left hand inside of his chest and her right hand lightly gripping the side of Franky's neck. Underneath the drawing, Franky says, "I trust you." typed in bold text. In the bottom left corner of the drawing is Robin's text again, and she only responds with: "Oh…" END ID]

[blue134340]

Music, Love, and Lust.

Pairing: Namjoon x Yoongi x Reader

Genre: smut

Word count: I’m sorry I keep forgetting but like no more than 2k

Warning: sex, fingering, Namjoon watches, Nipp sucking, and I think that’s it.

Summary: you’re being a brat at the studio and Yoongi and Namjoon are annoyed.

Note: Hey so I noticed y’all really liked the last one I posted. So here is a new one! I think I have the AI bot a little to much detail but whatever anyways! I hope y’all enjoy you nasties 🥸!

———————————————————————

The studio was quiet, save for the sound of pen tapping against paper. Namjoon and Yoongi were focused, scribbling lyrics and jotting down ideas for a new beat. Y/N, on the other hand, was getting antsy. She had been sitting on the couch for what felt like hours, watching the guys work. She had no idea what they were doing, and it was starting to bore her.

"Hey, what are you guys working on?" Y/N asked, leaning over to peek at their papers.

Namjoon glanced up, giving her a small smile. "Just trying to come up with a new beat. It's not going very well."

Y/N shrugged, sinking back into the cushions. "Well, it looks boring. What else can we do?"

Yoongi rolled his eyes. "We're working, Y/N. You can't expect us to entertain you every second."

Y/N pouted, feeling restless. She glanced around the room, searching for something to do. Her eyes landed on the whiteboard that hung on the wall.

"Ooh, let's play a game!" she exclaimed, jumping up from the couch. "I'll draw something on the board and you guys have to guess what it is."

Namjoon and Yoongi exchanged a look, both of them looking slightly annoyed. "Can't you see we're trying to work here?" Namjoon said.

Y/N shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Come on, it'll be fun! If you guess right, I'll give you a prize."

The guys sighed, but they couldn't help but smile at Y/N's enthusiasm. "Fine," Yoongi grumbled. "But make it quick."

As Y/N drew, Namjoon and Yoongi tried their best to guess what she was making. But Y/N's drawings were so abstract and strange that they couldn't even begin to guess. They were starting to get frustrated with her constant interruptions.

"Okay, that's enough," Namjoon said, setting his pen down. "We're not getting anything done like this."

Y/N stuck her tongue out, feeling a little bad for being so disruptive. "Sorry, I just didn't know what else to do."

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Well, you know what they say about being bored," he said, crossing the room to stand in front of her.

Y/N looked up at him, a little confused. "What do they say?"

"They say it's a sign that you need to be punished," he said, before leaning down to press a kiss to her lips.

Namjoon chuckled, joining in on the fun. "Yeah, punished with kisses," he said, peppering her face with soft kisses.

Y/N giggled, feeling her frustration melt away. She wrapped her arms around their necks, pulling them in for a deeper kiss.

As their lips met, the tension between them grew. Yoongi's hands slid down Y/N's back, pulling her closer. Namjoon's fingers tangled in her hair, deepening the kiss even further. Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine, her body responding to their touch.

The three of them broke the kiss, panting for breath. Namjoon and Yoongi looked at each other, a silent conversation passing between them.

"I think we need to take a break from work," Namjoon said, turning back to Y/N. "Do you want to go somewhere more private?"

Y/N nodded eagerly, feeling her heart racing. The guys took her hands, leading her out of the studio and down the hall to a nearby empty room. As soon as they were inside, Yoongi pressed her against the wall, kissing her deeply as Namjoon stood behind her, his hands roaming over her body.

Y/N moaned softly, feeling herself getting lost in the sensations. She ran her hands over Yoongi's chest, feeling the muscles rippling under his shirt. Namjoon's lips trailed down her neck, nipping at her skin.

"God, you're so beautiful," Yoongi whispered, his hands sliding down to cup her ass.

Y/N gasped, feeling herself getting wet at his touch. She ground her hips against his, feeling his cock pressing against her. Namjoon stepped back, taking off his shirt and tossing it aside. Y/N's eyes widened at the sight of his toned chest, feeling herself getting even more turned on. Yoongi pressed his lips to hers again, deepening the kiss as Namjoon stepped forward to press his body against hers.

The three of them were lost in a haze of lust, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony. They took turns kissing and touching her, driving her to the brink of orgasm again and again. Y/N felt like she was in heaven, surrounded by the warmth and love of her two boyfriends. Y/N felt the overwhelming love and passion from both Namjoon and Yoongi as they showered her with kisses all over her body. Their hands roamed over her curves, feeling her up and down as they continued to tease and torment her with their lips and tongues.

She felt her body respond eagerly to their touch, her nipples hardening and her core growing wet with desire. She gasped and moaned, unable to control her reactions as they explored every inch of her. Yoongi's lips found their way to her neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin, while Namjoon trailed kisses down her chest, pausing to tease her nipples with his tongue. Y/N's fingers tangled in their hair, urging them on as her body shook with pleasure. As their mouths met in a passionate kiss, Y/N felt her body tense and her heart race. She knew she was close to the edge, but she didn't want it to end yet. She pushed them away gently, staring up at them with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Not yet," she said, her voice husky with desire. "I want to show you both how much I love you too."

With a devilish smile, she pushed Yoongi down onto the couch and straddled him, feeling his cock pressing against her core. Namjoon knelt behind her, running his hands over her ass as he watched her ride Yoongi. Y/N moaned, feeling herself getting closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy. She reached up to pull Namjoon in for a kiss, their tongues tangling together in a wild dance. Yoongi's hands gripped her hips, urging her on as she rode him harder and faster. As they all reached their climax together, Y/N felt a sense of euphoria wash over her. She collapsed onto Yoongi's chest, feeling Namjoon's arms wrap around her from behind.

"I love you both so much," she whispered, feeling her heart overflowing with emotion.

"We love you too, baby," Namjoon said, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

Yoongi grinned up at her, his eyes shining with adoration. "You're everything to us, Y/N."

They lay there for a while, just holding each other and basking in the afterglow of their passion. Y/N felt complete, surrounded by the warmth and love of her two amazing boyfriends.

[floralcrematorium]

fuck it, band AU time

with my mounting zine deadlines and drawings i owe friends for their b-days, idk if i'll ever get to draw the accompanying material i wanted to, so it is time to yap everyone's ear off. apologies if this is a mess! it's been a hot minute since i've properly spewed my nonsense out loud

i think i wanna talk abt Nat first... I love using Natalya in narrative works -- she's so so interesting to me and the character i've fleshed out the most

in Band AU, Natalya is a solo pop musician whose earlier music takes heavy inspiration from ethereal wave and dark cabaret. artists who frequent the playlist i've made for her are birdeatsbaby, revue noir, and then a bit of the dresden dolls and mirabilis. here's a hyperlink to her WIP playlist!

as for subject matter, her music probably deals a lot with existentialism and self identity

at the start of her career, Nat is very experimental in her sound, presentation, and image. i like to think she sees her music videos and stage performances as a version of semi-abstract performance art. she's very into symbolism

the pop part of her sound comes a bit later, after she starts dating Alfred Jones, the front man of Multifacet, an alternative(?) rock band (gonna be real, i have NOT nailed down what their sound is yet). her relationship with Alfred is mutually unhealthy - they are somewhat codependent and both feel a need to perform due to media pressure. he's using her for her preexisting fame, she uses him to feel the lonely void she feels

Nat cracks under the pressure. She was a very popular artist before dating Alfred, but she had control. When they start dating, her own achievements begin to be overshadowed. Her career becomes inescapably intertwined with Alfred's. She hits an absolute breaking point

as of right now, the sound of nat's music when she's with alfred is a bit like rina sawayama's. i find her voice gorgeous and i like the sound of urgency in the songs I have added to Nat's playlist -- it's a stark difference from her earlier slower music. I think Frankenstein embodies Nat at this point in her career the best

i know billie eilish is WAY too mainstream for Nat's taste, but I can't help but think of The Diner from billie's latest album for the AmeBel breakup...

also I much prefer platonic AmeBel - I think when in a romantic relationship, these two enable the worse parts of one another. however as just friends, they work quite well! anyway the best way I can sum up how I see AmeBel is:

someone else: what do you even see in him? Nat: he makes me laugh. he's stupid. i like that in a man.

I think the constant theme for Nat is a constant searching for a sense of identity because she continually destroys the identity she's built. I think Nat is a little insecure and to truly flourish, she needs to find some confidence. she also needs a good support system, which comes in the form of Tereza (miss Czechia), but I'll talk about them at a different time (wink wink, nudge nudge)

If I have to give you examples of Nat's different "Eras":

Debut: The Silent, The Tragic Tantrum She's having fun. Nat's a bit cryptic, she's eclectic, and enjoys putting on a show on stage. Start of the AU: Girl Anachronism, The Dresden Dolls I associate Girl Anachronism a lot with Nat in general, band AU aside Dating Alfred: Frankenstein, Rina Sawayama The lyrics of this one really hit for Nat. "All I want is to feel beautiful inside and out/You're the one who can save me from myself." This is when AmeBela are mutually codependent Breakup: Nothing Lasts, Glycerine I don't have anything to add other than this is an old personal favorite of mine. That's it. Breakup, but with plot relevance: The Diner, Billie Eilish I really want to use the lines "I'll go back to the diner/I'll write another letter/I hope you'll read it this time/You better" Nat and Al are having a very public breakup, that's all I have to say Healing: Seventeen, birdeatsbaby Nat's like. 27 at the start of this AU, but I think the themes are still relevant. I also LOVE the dramatic and grandiose intro to the song -- I feel like it's a return to form for her... Healing Nat Part Two: I Always Hang Myself With The Same Rope, birdeatsbaby

Nat will get a happy ending. I do need to figure out in more detail in what ways she damages Alfred, but I think with the general theme of the whole AU being a cautionary tale about fame and the effects it has on an individual, I've focused more on the "good ending" route with Nat's story. She has a moment of self realization and puts in the time to work on herself.

[rey-jake-therapist]

*sorry I think my ask cut off the first bit here so I'm sending it again (Haladriel reminds me of Darklina, in the sense that both characters are so loved by me individually and the dynamic is fascinating, but as an actual ship in fandom? I have to navigate through the misogynist takes that are reducing the female character to a trophy)

I saw this in the haladriel tag on x and I think I pinned down the reason why there are certain people who can't handle dark ships and won't stop invalidating them by screaming about abuse/misogyny. It's because in their minds, they take things very concretely, not being able to 'read between the lines', and thus it's hard for them to really think in abstract ways. They just can't divorce fictional characters from actual problems in society. Don't get me wrong, there is a parallel between them that exists as a fine line, and we should absolutely call some things out. But in the realm of fictional characters, shipping, and make believe? That's strictly a 'them/individual' problem, not an 'us' problem. There are SO many haladriel shippers. We get so many fanart by talented people, many of whom haven't even heard of Tolkien. Are they supporting misogyny or have they had to 'navigate thru misogynist takes' in order to draw two characters together because they like their dynamic? It's not our fault that these canon police antis can't separate fiction from reality, and see every aggression toward a female character (unless it's by another female character, or it's a m/m relationship) as misogyny, while ignoring actual inequality in societies around us, as well as ignoring the truth that men can also become victims of abuse/violence. It all goes back to the funny hypocrisy of touting a beloved female character with admirable traits like strong, fierce, powerful, but the instant a male character challenges her and shows any kind of aggression at her - because spoiler alert, he's a villain, it's literally how he was written - these canon police antis whine about misogyny instead of just saying they don't see what shippers see in a fictional pairing and leave it at that. Like, it's ok, you don't need a reason to not like a pairing. The funny thing is, for all their fascination on Galadriel and Sauron as individuals, they fail to comprehend Sauron's character beyond what is stated in black and white in front of them (going back to the concrete vs abstract thinking). I'm not even a huge fan of Charlie, and even I can understand the 'seeing Gal as a trophy' bit is just a very simplified jest at the comparison to Morgoth and the Silmarils. If they actually bothered to read more of his interviews, it's very clear he sees her as beyond just that. Oh, she's just another ring to him basically? Ok but then why do I keep hearing cosmic connection spoken by him anytime Galadriel is brought up in interviews? Cosmic connection flew over this person's head like a frisbee.

I hope you don't mind me saying I never liked Darklina 🙈 I don't know if it's because I wasn't a big fan of the show in general, of because of the actor I found too pretty, or the dynamic in general... It just never worked for me.

I'm probably significantly older than most Tumblr users, old enough to remember how Mulder and Scully shippers were shamed and mocked when Internet and forums barely started to be a thing anyway 🤣 If you ever heard of X Files or even better, watched it, you know that there isn't a ship that's more vanilla than this one. And yet shippers were being mocked for seeing romance where there was only "platonic friendship" (joke on them, 9 years later Mulder and Scully were endgame), when we weren't told that "Scully deserved better" because "Mulder was abusive towards her

Shippers were always made fun to and it'll never stop, I'm afraid. I've stopped caring about what anyone has to say about a fictional romance I like tbh. I don't know if you use social media such as Reddit and Twitter, as far as I m concerned avoiding these places help a lot. Haters don't seem aware of Tumblr's existence, and I pray every day that they remain ignorant because I really like it here 💜

The best we can do is to keep having fun with what we love... That won't change these idiot's minds, but it will probably piss them off ;)

[desertsfic]

Hi!!! You don't have to respond, but I can NOT stop thinking about the part in rng where Bro puts Dave's sword back in his strife deck and like??? I'd never considered??? That??? Ive been chewing on this for a while, but could you possibly elaborate on it? Like how did you come up with including it and what is the context within the universe?

Hi!

No, I would love to answer, actually. :) I actually think about this kind of thing a lot, and a lot of thoughts led me to writing that moment lol

If you know me you know that I really love working with the mechanics of sylladices! Generally I have been following the (extremely interpretive) rules as best I can, but not all mechanics are explained in detail, so sometimes you just make stuff up!

To start, we don't actually know what kind of fetch modus alpha Dave has, and because of that we can just make up anything we want. I think it actually makes that more fun! :)

but I like to think given the fact that the beta guardians seem to have fetch modi that differ from their kids, that Dave at least might be in possession of the original sylladex that Dirk possesses (techhop modus).

It's also the modus that I gave Bro, since he and Dave have been known to use them in quote unquote "rap battles", and it is the only other rap based human modi I know of (and because he is a Dirk).

Guardians are just made up guys, y'know, so we can say whatever we want about them.

And anyway, since it's the one that Dirk has, it just made sense for alpha Dave to be the previous owner! or at least have been vain enough to have assumed that his kid would want the same decks that he has lol

So we can assume, if they have the same fetch modus, and obviously the same strife abstratus, then Bro would be familiar with it.

So they have the same dex, and they're living in a world where this is a normal thing that people have, and have access to.

And if that wasn't the original intent thats not my problem because it's a fascinating world and I love exploring it.

Also just as a relevant side note I assume pickpockets exist in Homestuck I mean I don't have proof but I assume they do, right, so I assume, using a sylladex as an analog for a purse that can hold you wallet, there are people who are gonna want the stuff in your dex, and surely there are people amongst them who have found workarounds to accessing people's dexes or abstratus.

Bro seems like the kind of person who would be interested in exploiting those workarounds, and I think so in particular after the way he slices through the ABSCOND bar in the early acts, interacting with an abstract object that perhaps previously, in video game logic, we'd assume only the player character can see.

For him personally reaching into somebody else's sylladex, I was specifically thinking about Gamzees miracle modus when I was writing, and the way he just kind of reaches up in there and grabs the thing,

versus the other ways we've seen people interacting with them, from Dad Egbert's wallet (able to hold his car in a captcha card) to Jade and her pictionary fetch modus (which requires a drawing).

I don't remember the exact moment I decided on it, but I just remember thinking about abstrati and 'dices and being like, "wouldn't it be absolutely fucked if someone interacted with your own personal inventory space?" something I'm sure has occured in video games, but I can't think of an exact example off the top of my head (undertale maybe?)

I just imagine it would be extremely uncomfortable, perhaps a bit like a mix of having someone rooting around in your pockets with an extreme personal space violation and maybe even a little bit of head fuckery, since it seems that a deck is (maybe I misremember this) generally only seen by the person to whom it belongs.

It just seemed like the ultimate dick move, enough to leave someone like alpha Dave speechless, and kind of exploring the question "can someone interact with someone else's sylladex and strife deck?" I don't know! But it is fun to think about :)

[limbus-limousine]

Do you have design takes on Kromer, Knauer, Alfons, and Frau Eva. I'm dying to know

Okay first and foremost I apologize because this kind of turned into an essay but like❤️

When it comes to Knauer and Alfons, honestly, I don't have much of a mental image???I have aphantasia, so it's hard for me to imagine appearances from only text and usually stick to specific representations of them, limbus designs are like super ingrained in my mind but I do think of their book descs aswell. Mostly I'd say Knauer would be physically similar to Sinclair to some degree, but their main differences lay on face, eye shape and such. I usually draw Sinclair with round shapes, but then roughen him around the edges a bit (I make his eyes sharper, hands calloused etc). Knauer would look more soggy i think

About Kromer, I always try to make her look bulkier in a way?? Blocky and spiky at the same time if you will. I also love making her sclera a dark greenish hue, it makes her look like an animal being hit by camera flash a bit... I also lean more into her limbus character because I love how much more relevant she feels, I at least try to portray her in a slightly animalistic, scary way, in contrast to Demian with whom I also lean towards animalistic, but more like, sly??? If that makes sense, fox/snake like. Kromer to me is more feline (cat hunts bird uhu) but also insectoid, to represent that while she is scary and such, she lacks Demian's sly mystique and intelligence (in other words, the mark)

As for Eva, I imagine her very similar to Demian (obviously) although in my mind, both of them aren't super defined, the lines are blurry. I think I mentioned this before, but they feel to me like some kind of cryptid. I boost the "creepy/scary" aspect for them a lot, I think because I deeply resonate with Sinclair's more abstract view of love, it reads to me like he finds beauty in the grotesque, and I want to interpret that as nonchalance and even appreciation to something that is outwardly scary. Also going to the whole star symbolism... God, space is scary, but ohh is it beautiful as well.

It doesn't feel completely right to portray them as people sometimes tbh. They are more like masses of light and energy floating around to me. Demian to me represents camaraderie, guidance and a more childish (but still profound) love, while Eva leans more toward the whole mothery love thing, maturity, home, safety. But they are like, two ends of a spectrum?? Sometimes it will be an in-between of those shapes of love and feeling, is it Max or Eva?? Doesn't really matter, they give of the same light, same star... This is why I portray Demian differently as well, sometimes I will make his hair longer, face a bit older looking, etc.

IM SORRY this is really rambly and super long auughgg😭 I'm not very clear with specific design aspects but the way I see them psychologically really influences how I draw them... Thanks for the ask anyways!!! I love talking about these freaks mannn

[philtstone]

Aragorn/Arwen, 63

#63 -- tujhe dekha toh from dilwale dulhania le jeyenge ok so the soulmatism of it all had me going completely nuts (simrans waking dreams.....i need to lie down) & before i knew it i'd re-read their appendix had 3 literary analysis epiphanies and was neck deep in the wiki page on love death and meaning and the paradox of religion and nonreligion in tolkein i say all that like i didnt just write movie verse kidfic lol. ellie is a shortened version of "nethel" which means sister in sindarin. in a different time in my life i would have named every single one of canon girldad aragorns "many daughters" & also included 5 of them but alas, at this time i am Busy. so we'll pretend that the other 3 havent come along yet. arwen has magic powers she will be fine. enjoy!

“My lady Luthien!”

The words come into Arwen's dream in the common tongue, whispered and full of a child’s awe. He is speaking as if to himself — the text has surprised him, or perhaps absorbed him so that he does not realize his mouth is moving, disrupting the Sindarin read privately in his thoughts with an impulsive, delighted exclamation.

To Arwen it is just as mesmerizing. She cannot know why her dream has brought her here, to this garden of her father’s House she has sought refuge in so many a time. She knows him very little, this child, not ten in the years of Men and so very human about it, with lanky limbs folded up against himself to cradle the book and a mop of dark hair that falls down over his eyes and the very beginning of spots on his chin (of endless intrigue to Arwen, who has only ever seen skin unblemished). 

She has not met him, but knows of him from her brothers’ letters: her father’s ward, sweet and grave and beloved amongst the Rivendell kindred as any novelty in the shape of a child might be. But Estel earns it, too. He is earning his presence in her dream in the same way, sat in the exact spot she always chooses, under bows of trees she has long considered friends. He earns it, though Arwen doesn’t quite know why he’s here. 

Don’t you? ask her thoughts of her self, and she does not answer.

Years pass, and she is home again.

“My lady Luthien,” he says, as she comes toward him, and within his voice is a gentle embarrassment that still manages to tease. 

Arwen, firm in her earlier, gentle rejection (he is far too young), cannot help but find this terribly charming anyway. It is just after dinner, and she has found him behind a pillar to the side of where they dine. He holds his cup in both hands. Until her appearance he was studying the carvings on one stone edifice to their side, and seems in every way his mortal age save one: there is a new and convoluted weight in his eyes that was not there in the early afternoon, when he called so clearly and sincerely to her. It seems to have entered like the broken branches of a sapling swept into a fast-moving stream after a storm. 

“I should be greatly flattered, Estel, to be compared thus,” Arwen says, offering that weight a smile. Estel drops his eyes back to the pillar. He seems to start and stop a few times before actually opening his mouth, and when he does,

“I should like to still be called Estel, for a while yet,” and there is great vulnerability there, in his young man’s eyes. It sneaks into her breast and cups a hand over the breath she draws, and despite the glade, and his youth, and the Truth her father has now shared with him, she is compelled: Arwen’s own hand slides over his knuckles, and they are holding the cup together.

“I will,” she promises. “I do.” 

On the edge of the last word do his eyes flick up to hers, canny in a way that sparks beneath her skin. He lives up to his name, she thinks then (not quite knowing why), and when she writes this to him after they have parted, in the letters they now share, he writes back: so do you.

Before Estel, her experience of Death was altogether different. She knew it first in abstraction and then in keen loss. Now she feels its imminance and urgency, in both grand and mundane ways.

For example, earlier this evening, Arwen thought she might die if she did not kiss him. It was a thought that crept over her swiftly, silent and keen as a fresh ice water brook spilling into open hands, very different from the thundering roar of the river spirits she had summoned to herself – until it was suddenly quite the same, roaring, and it must have shown in her eyes. In the late quiet of the night she came to her rooms and found him, there. 

(She has long since known why.)

The employment of her tongue is not new, but pulls a murmur out of him regardless. “My lady Luthien,” he starts, speaking almost directly against her mouth, with a wry amusement that is not so unburdened as to be playful and not yet a warning, either, and then he is properly startled into, “Arwen —!” when her next kiss includes a bite. The rasp of beard against her chin is uncomfortable and delightful. She can feel the rumble of her small victory in his chest. Aragorn has always done so much with just the two syllables of her name.

When she has lost all breath she pulls away, and does not pant — sweet air made salty by urgency comes in and out of her lungs in discordant sighs — but her lips stay hot against his ear and she feels every press of his fingers against the slope of her waist, burning. She thinks of death again; she has fought it off. Twice in one week now, in very different ways.

Aragorn does pant, in his own way. He lets out a quiet gasp and drops his head against the side of hers, not trembling but finding some stronghold deep within himself that begets composure. 

Slowly she begins to comb her fingers through the hair at his temple. In the dark alcove of her rooms (safe), they sway together.

“Tomorrow,” he murmurs, and she knows: tomorrow the council is held.

“I meant it, earlier,” says Arwen softly, into his hair. It has begun to grey, the strands too hidden yet to shimmer in the moonlight but there nonetheless. Every so often she will catch a glimpse of them and it will leave her wordless, and desperate to touch him. “Your fears are not the truth you think them to be.”

“Arwen.” She can hear the desperation that threatens to choke his own voice. Duty turns the peaceful twilight of her home into a foreboding shadow. There are two large warm hands on her face before she has noticed them move, and then she feels the wetness of her own cheeks: she had not realized she was crying. 

“I did not know it would be so momentous to love,” she says, while he wipes at her tears with war-roughened, gentle fingers. So many things about Men are a paradox. So many things about this man. 

“Meleth,” he says. 

“I meant it.” She repeats herself. “I know who you are in my heart, Estel.”

“You do,” he allows her, and she is not certain he believes it to be enough. No matter, Arwen thinks: her own belief will sustain them. It must, long enough that he has hope for himself as well as for Men, and then they might cross through the door, to the other side of the Dark.  

The Queen finds her husband in Faramir’s study, reading.

“My lady Luthien,” she is greeted, words threaded full of the subtle humour that has turned her head for over sixty years.

Arwen clasps her hands over the laden basket she packed without needing any kind of foresight and sighs thinly. 

“I did expect, mel nin, that you had gone the whole day without food, but I had thought you would be found holding grave council, or visiting the head healer, or even – forgivably – in the stables. Instead, you are here, nose-deep in an ancient poem.”

“It did not come to you in a vision?” he asks, and raises his eyes just enough to catch hers from beneath his lashes. This does nothing to diminish the focus etched into his dark brow, nor the way he holds himself (always it calls to her – it does not matter the shape), nor the deep blue of his mantle sweeping against the floor; he has not paused to change since returning from the Southern Wall. Whatever peace he thinks his feigned innocence will win him, she cannot know.

“Your Steward told on you, my love.”

“Aaah,” his face falls, so dramatically it is amusing.

She holds up her basket. “I have lunch.”

“My beloved wife has developed the sensibilities of a Hobbit,” Aragorn says, in her people’s language.

“Hobbits are good and noble creatures,” she retorts. She always argues better with him in Sindarin anyhow, “and have traditions from which we might learn.” She arches a brow: “Estel.”

“I am eating,” protests Aragorn, somewhat weakly. “I mean – I will.”

“You might do so now. With me – there is no one else here.”

It is a potent suggestion, she does acknowledge. She watches him think about it, proud to note all the little tells which she has known since he was a barefaced and impulsive young man. The same canny look sparks under Arwen’s skin. Once, decades ago, she had met him in the wild woods beyond her father’s borders in a stolen moment between darkness and duty, and convinced him to bathe with her in the river. She remembers her joy at seeing his wet dark hair plastered all over his forehead. She remembers his own joy, and how it fought off the lonesome blanket of the gathering shadow.

“Your thoughts are of something I know,” Aragorn says now, suspicion arching his tone and narrowing his bright eyes, no longer that of a young man but still full of a life that thrills her. “Some joyful mischief that you’re going to coax me into again, no doubt.”

“There is sadly no river in the palace.”

“Aaah,” uttered in a very different tone from before. His eyebrows twitch out of their focused furrow and his face warms with the memory. He lowers his book a little. “Arwen …”

But he does not move from his spot behind the desk, so Arwen places her basket down and sweeps forward, intent. The silver in his hair streaks liberally now, and lines furrow down his cheeks when he laughs – often – but otherwise Aragorn remains mostly unchanged from the presence filling so little yet so much of the many years of Arwen’s memory. Affection rushes through her, swelling like the river, growing like the trees in Lorien. That glade, too, is a memory full of joy. He is much better suited to a beard, though. Arwen tells him this.

“So you have said many many times,” Aragorn says, chuckling. “I have no plans of removing it from my face, beloved.”

“I know,” Arwen hums. “I am only observing.”

Slowly she comes around the desk, on even steps, until they are very nearly touching and she can fold her hands over the top of his book. She takes a long moment to look at him, and though she in her chosen mortality no longer carries the same potency of power that Tinuviel’s blood held before, she conducts her habitual scan of his spirit, the truth of it ebbing through her fingers where they touch. Beyond her duties as Queen (of which there are many, and she both capable and willing) this is what Arwen knows most deeply in her heart how to do. 

Finding Aragorn no more burdened than usual (though perhaps a little distracted) she leans in to whisper in his ear.

“Ah –” he clears his throat and touches two long brown fingers to her arm. Unexpectedly, then, Aragorn stage whispers, “We are not … as alone as it seems.” 

“What exactly do you mean?” Arwen, paused very close to his mouth, is compelled to whisper back.

And then,

“It’s alright!” comes a familiar little voice from seemingly nowhere, and all at once Arwen looks down to see the outside shape of the King’s voluminous cloak wriggle. Her mouth parts in surprise. The whisperer continues importantly, “You may kiss Ada if you like, Naneth. We are not looking!” 

“Ssssshhh!” materializes a second, equally familiar little voice.

Arwen tilts her head, mystified, as her husband sets his expression into something communicating exclusively the secrets and patient indulgences of fatherhood. Then he jerks his chin towards the door, eyebrows raised and everything, not a moment before there sounds the sharp cadence of what can only be a young boy’s footsteps (and Arwen would know this boy’s as she knows her own heart) and into the library bursts their only son. 

At the sight of his parents, Eldarion comes to an abrupt halt, and tries very hard to compose himself. 

“Ahem,” he says, straightening. She sees the way his body moves to mimic his father, and also the grass stains on his knees, and the disheveled mop of his curls that means he has definitely spent the last hour running around in the gardens. Arwen is unbothered by this. “Hello Ada, hello Naneth. Have you – have you seen my sisters?”

The front of Aragorn stays conspicuously still.

“Your sisters?” asks Arwen, clasping her hands demurely before her.

“I am afraid my attention has been elsewhere,” says Aragorn gravely, holding aloft his book.

“Indeed,” adds Arwen. “So much so that he has forgotten to eat.”

Minutely, the cloak quivers. 

“Hmmmm,” says Eldarion, lost in focus. “I must find them to create an alliance with the brave rangers in the North,” he speaks, almost as though to himself – he is really giving this quite a bit of thought. He is so absorbed that she could be in Rivendell again, drawn by a dream into her beloved, occupied glade … “For we must defend the townspeople but I cannot do it alone.”

Arwen blinks. Her heart is filled with tenderness.

“They have assigned you the role of orc again?” Aragorn is guessing, sympathetic.

Eldarion droops only a little before springing back up with full confidence. “Yes! But I am determined that we will create an alliance. I am a good orc, you see.”

With hasty goodbyes, he rushes away, taking the excitable sound of his footsteps with him.

A moment of quiet passes. Aragorn’s cloak begins giggling, so he spreads open his arms and herds them out one by one. 

“You must go quietly now, down the hall and into the gardens,” whispers their father.

“Naneth,” begins their youngest, halfway out the room, “Naneth, do you think if we formed a nalliance –”

“An alliance,” corrects Aragorn, still whispering.

“Shhh,” interrupts the other, “or Eldarion will find us!”

“But he must be getting lonely!”

“Oh, ellie …”

Their little voices trail out of the door.

“I believe an alliance would work,” Aragorn offers Faramir’s many inert books, speaking at a normal register once more. The study now empty, Arwen turns back to her husband. His eyes are twinkling. She does not say anything, but moves toward him, as she has done so many times before, and lays her head to rest against his shoulder. In moments the book is tucked away, and the warm hands she knows so well are cradling her arms. 

After a moment he says, “You are well? Arwen?” a gentle question in her ear. Arwen nods. She can now say what she knows, and why they are here: 

She sustained them, and there was hope to be found. 

Aragorn’s fingers rub over the gauzy sleeve of her dress. “Did you have your heart set on lunch?” he asks quietly.   

“I did,” Arwen says, and turns to hold his eye. “I do.” 

[vaguelyoriginaldrivel]

RANDOM TOWN GENERATOR

My longest-running campaign ended this year. Granted, that’s not saying much - only ran 9 sessions, started last fall, but still as of yet the only real “campaign” I’ve ever ran. Was some sort of “urban fantasy” thing, players a bunch of wizards (and one giant shrimp-man) driving around some undefined region of the USA in an again undefined recent past… though near the end I think I’d decided on it being set in Pennsylvania? Definitely a learning experience in a lot of ways for me, regardless. Anyways here’s some tables I made for it

Town name (d10):

Washington

Franklin

Chester

Dover

- 10. [random - roll prefix, suffix]

Prefix (d12):

Spring

Hill

Glen

George

Kings

Green

Arling

Clay

Ash

Gold

Mill

Fair

Suffix (d6):

field

lake

hill

view

ton

-Town

Notable Feature (3d10): 1-3. Can’t be rolled on a 3d10

Ignore everything else - this isn’t an ordinary small town, it’s a neo-nazi cult compound. They have guns and they don’t like you

Historic building - Weird modern house - all pods, steel, fiberglass, and concrete, with spherical pods covered in pods. Abandoned.

Ruins - Abandoned Shopping Mal

Speed trap town - local cops lurk on the side of the highway, entire town economy based on speeding tickets. Basically operates on piracy. Absurdly low speed limits not properly demarcated

Weird art installation - field of sculptures (d4 - abstract metal, cobbled-together trash, stone statues of animals and people, monoliths with inscriptions)

Historic building - haunted mansion, old style - wood, maybe some stone

Notable dam overlooking the town, potentially vulnerable to failure

Ruins - Abandoned Factory

College town - small local college dominates the local economy, most residents are students or staff

Tourist trap - Historic house (d4- Rotting wooden mansion with a ghost story, old colonial stone fort, weird modern house of a dead eccentric rich guy/ weird cult leader )

Large immigrant population from a distant country (ie not part of the Americas- like Kazakhstan or Swahililand or Lichtenstein, not like, Colombia)

Oddly high concentration of a hyper-specific specialized type of business - an entire district of dentists or dog groomers or something

Not a full on cult compound, but much of the town’s population do follow a specific esoteric cults religion like scientology or sedevacantist mormonism or something

Birthplace of some celebrity, statue in town square proclaims as much

Tourist trap -Giant sculpture, gift shop (d4 - historic figure, giant animal, mascot of attached restaurant, dinosaur(young-earth creationist))

Historic building - old colonial fort, earthworks and stone and wood

Geography - Subterranean water (1d4 - Hot spring, bottomless pit in a lake, water-filled mine pit)

Geography- Big rock (d4 - Balancing rock, weird outcroppings (like fang ridge nevada), meteor (in far-off museum, there’s a plaque next to the crater though), butte)

Geography - Weird Cliff (1d6: columnar jointing, waterfall, petroglyphs, looks like a face, church built into it, odd color)

Retirement community, no children whatsoever and everyone is either a senior citizen or a caretaker

Odd museum - animal (1d6- snails, songbirds, butterflies, earthworms, leeches, mice)

Odd museum - human (1d6- finger, ear, spleen, tongue, nose, lip, nail)

Odd museum - local cryptid (1d6 - sasquatch, lake monster, grey alien, weird alien (ie flatwoods), hodag, giant toad, devil)

Religious - large megachurch, drawing in the faithful from across the state

Weird art installation - small grove with (d4 - dollheads hanging from the trees, extensive etchings onto the bark, geometric statues in between the trees, the trees coated in colorful yarn)

Ignore everything else - this isn’t an ordinary small town, it’s some kind of hippy commune or cult compound or something. Either pseudochristian or pseudodharmic, flip a coin

Special - roll on Supernatural table

(intentionally weighted to be biased more towards the middle but I didn’t really check the probabilities here, might be way too hard to get the ones at the further poles)

Extra: Supernatural element. (d4)

Entire town was replaced with body-snatchers a few years ago. They’ll try to keep you in town for a few days - constantly surveilling you, in order to grow a body-double - when they’re done they’ll try and kidnap you to replace you with it the next time you wander away from the group. Body snatcher type varies - (Fae-esque boogeymen cuckoo-bird shapeshifters, pseudo-plant pod people, 1979 Alien style androids, etc)

Recent sightings of some kind of cryptid or something has drawn droves of “cryptozoologists” to town. This is a problem because some of you are cryptids. Coinflip if the cryptid in question is real or not

Entire town stuck in groundhog day loop - the US military has caught on and is using the town as a testing-bed/training site. Just like groundhog day, there’s one guy somewhere in town originating the loop - kill him or put him to sleep and it resets - make him learn the error of his ways - or keep him awake til midnight - and the effect ends permanently. The feds know about this, first thing they do every loop is send their special ops guys to bag him and hide him in a van before they start the raid in earnest. Outsiders, like you and the special ops guys, can enter the loop - no matter what happens, when the loop resets you’re plopped back outside right where you entered in exactly the state you were then except for your memories - even if you died you’re revived.

Certain nights, at the witching hour (12-1), local monsters and spirits and such emerge and walk the streets openly - certain stalls and shops pop up in areas that are normally unused, catering to this strange clientele, and others who sell mundane wares during the day reveal their magical affiliations at night. Also there’s street performances, music and dances and parades - and games, dangerous ones - ones you can join. The rest slumber on, but the magic that keeps them asleep does not apply to you. As magicians and cryptids yourself, this could be a good opportunity, but not all the spirits who’ve emerged are peaceful.

this is what the map of the actual campaign ended up looking like at the end btw

[melancholicheart]

All This Time- Chapter 6

cw: trans male pregnancy (past, mentioned), angst, miscommunication, fluff and happy ending

Two weeks have passed and they have been- hectic, for want of a better word.

Simon got in touch with Price, using a mobile of all things, and Johnny fumed at the fact they’re using mobiles now after all he went through trying to contact base.

Regardless, Price- and subsequently Gaz- were informed of everything. From Elizabeth, to the General, to Johnny himself and how he’s doing and it’s safe to say, Price was incredibly pissed too. So pissed, in fact, that he and Gaz have put work aside momentarily to launch an internal investigation with the help of Laswell.

They said they would keep in touch but these two weeks have passed without a peep from the 141 so Simon and Johnny are making assumptions that they’re busy working on it, scrounging up as much info as possible.

As morning rolls around, Johnny finds himself coming around at a distinctly later time that usual, which is all thanks to Simon. Johnny was used to the 5:30AM starts, working on breakfast and cleaning before Elizabeth would wake but now, it’s 8AM and Johnny’s never felt as well-rested.

He wakes to an empty bed, suddenly an unusual feat, as he feels around for Simon.

That’s another change. Somehow Simon has ended up sharing a bed with Johnny again and neither of them are complaining about it. There were brief words of ‘the couch isn’t that comfy, y’know, and the bed’s big enough’ and that’s all it took.

So lying in an empty bed feels strange despite the last five years being spent in an oversized empty bed. He’s quick to his feet, running quickly through his morning routine, before going to find his daughter and Simon.

He knows the second he steps out of his room to use the bathroom that they’re in Elizabeth’s room. The door is slightly ajar, light on and voices bouncing off the walls as they speak in relatively hushed whispers. Johnny is quick to join them.

Johnny pokes his head around the door, not disturbing the two but watching as they play. They have their backs to the door and Elizabeth is sat on Simon’s knee. His arm is draped over her legs as she doodles all over his arm.

There’s little creatures, ants and butterflies namely, scattered over his wrist. Up towards his elbow there’s little dinosaur looking things and just below the crease of his elbow, there’s a pretty good drawing of a flower (for an almost 5 year old, anyway).

“You’re just like your Papa,” Simon mumbles. His other arm is round her back, holding her still on his leg so she doesn’t topple backwards, “Always doodling. Your Dad used to colour in my tattoos when he was bored.”

“Papa always lets me doodle! I like it.”

“You’re very good at it sweetheart. The flower is excellent.” Simon says.

“It’s a daisy!”

“So it is.” Simon chuckles, staring at his arm that looks more like an abstract art piece than a limb at that point.

Johnny makes himself known then, stepping into the room and perching on the edge of Elizabeth’s bed. He takes a closer look at the drawings and smiles, “My, my! Who drew all these masterpieces?”

Elizabeth beams, “I did it, Papa!”

“I would pay millions for them, put them up in a gallery if I could!” Johnny exaggerates, making Lizzie giggle.

“You can’t put my arm in a gallery,” Simon argues, “I need it!”

Johnny almost makes a crude joke before remembering little ears are around, “Yeah, I’m sure you do. Should we go and get some breakfast?”

Johnny picks Elizabeth up and sits her on his hip, giving her a cuddle like he does every morning. Simon makes his way to the kitchen and starts poking around for food, “Not got so much in,” Simon says. He opens the fridge and gets the milk out. He sniffs it and grimaces before slamming the lid back on, “Can’t even have a brew.”

“I suppose we’ll have to go food shopping then,” Johnny sighs. A groan tumbles from his lips, “Again!”

Simon shakes his head, “Don’t worry, I’ll sort it. You and Lizzie stay here, I know you said you’ve got some things to talk about with her.”

Johnny ponders for a moment. He’s been wondering what to do about the entire ‘Simon’ thing and he spoke to him about what he wants to do. Simon said he’s more than willing to leave the army, move nearby and be a parent but Johnny wants to hear with Elizabeth has to say. He doesn’t expect much, not from a 4 year old, but he wants to give her a chance to ask questions either way.

“Alright. I’ll make you a list. We need more soap but you have to get the sensitive one because she gets rashes really easily.” Johnny says, picking Elizabeth up and sitting her on the counter in front of him.

Simon already knows the one, he uses it on his own skin since he is prone to outbreaks of his eczema. He lets Johnny make the list regardless. He lets him leave with a promise of sending him the money but Simon shrugs him off and says, “I think it’s about time I helped out.”

Once he is gone, Johnny manages to scrounge a small breakfast together, just apples and yoghurt for him and Elizabeth but he hardly touches it whilst he talks to her.

“Lizzie, darling, can me and you have a big grown up talk?” He asks.

She nods, dipping her apples into the yoghurt and kicking her feet about whilst she eats them.

“Now Daddy is here, I want to know how you’re feeling?” Johnny asks.

“Wha’ you mean?” She mumbles around a mouthful of food.

“I mean are you happy? I know you missed him before but I want to make sure you’re happy he’s here, and that you like him.”

Now her nods are more vigorous, “Yeah Papa! I like him, he’s nice! He tells silly jokes, like you.”

Johnny chuckles a little, “That’s what happens when you become a Dad, they give you a book on the silliest jokes to tell your babies.”

“You’re lyin’!”

“Okay, maybe a little, but it is a thing! The best jokes come to you when you’re a Dad.” Johnny says.

“So, is Daddy gonna go back fightin’ again?” She asks. Johnny takes a moment to eat some of his own breakfast as he thinks of a response.

“I don’t know yet, there’s a lot of grown up stuff to sort out but I know Daddy wants to be here with you, he told me himself.” Johnny explains.

“I wan’ him to stay. I loves having him here!” She exclaims and Johnny smiles.

“I do too sweetheart.”

Simon takes a long time getting back. Johnny wonders if something’s happened, if he got lost or he skipped town. He would be so pissed that he would storm onto his old base and beat the shit out of him if he skipped out on his daughter.

He manages to work himself into such a worry that he becomes angry and starts furiously cleaning the house whilst Eliza plays with her dolls and her dinosaurs. By the time Simon comes back, Johnny breathes such a sigh of relief that a few tears slip from his eyes and he wipes them away swiftly.

“Hey,” Simon says, placing the few bags on the counter, “Everything okay?”

Johnny nods, drying his hands on a tea towel after doing the dishes. He takes a deep breath, smiles and turns around to Simon, “Yeah.”

Simon looks straight through Johnny’s facade, just like he always did, and goes to question him when Elizabeth comes over and clings to Simon's leg, “Daddy you were gone ages!”

“I wasn’t gone too long sweetie, I needed to get a few extra things.”

“Like what?” Johnny suddenly snaps and he turns away before either of them can see the tears in his eyes again. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap- I just- yeah.”

“Johnny, what’s going on?” Simon asks, stepping closer to him and pressing a hand to the small of his back. Johnny takes a deep breath and sighs.

He looks down at his daughter who sees he looks upset and rushes to him, clinging to his leg instead and he reaches a hand down to play with her hair. He looks up at Simon and his heart clenches, “I- you were gone so long and I got worried. I thought- I thought you left.” He whispers, quiet enough so Elizabeth doesn’t hear.

“Left? Oh shit, Johnny I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you where I was going-”

Johnny shakes his head, “No I should’ve just trusted you, you’re a grown man, you don’t have to tell me where you are 24/7.”

“Well, you’re right I guess but I should’ve told you either way. We’re a team, right? Can’t be a team if I’m off sneaking around, can we?” He asks and Johnny shakes his head.

“Can we know where you were?” He asks and Simon nods, suddenly looking less guilty and more enthusiastic.

“Of course! I actually had a little surprise planned but I needed to go to multiple places to execute it,” Simon explains. He reaches to one of the bags, not a supermarket one and pulls out two beautiful bouquets. One is smaller than the other, a mix of beautifully colourful flowers with little decorations accompanying the flowers, dinosaurs of all things.

The other bouquet is full of purple, blue and white flowers, very deep but very pretty nonetheless and the decorations in there are full of bees and butterflies, Johnny’s favourites. He hands them both a bouquet each, corresponding to the decor within them.

“I suppose this is a sorry, a thankyou and a everything all together bouquet,” Simon explains to Johnny, before turning to Elizabeth, “And I couldn’t get Papa flowers without giving some to my beautiful girl, could I?”

Elizabeth smiles and begs to be picked up. She cuddles into Simon and plays with the little dinosaur decor in the flowers, “Daddy, I love it!”

“I’m so glad baby,” He mumbles, looking to Johnny who is staring at the bouquet with a bright smile, “I have another little surprise too.”

“Another?” Johnny asks as Simon sits Elizabeth on the counter, rolling his sleeve up.

On his arm, below his elbow crease, is a tattoo of the flower Elizabeth drew that morning. Perfectly imperfect, just like the original drawing, and just below it, there’s Elizabeth’s birthdate.

“Papa! Daddy got the drawing!” Elizabeth squeals. She kicks her legs in delight and Johnny places his bouquet down to look at the tattoo on Simon’s arm.

Johnny looks up at Simon, words escaping him and he just hugs him. Simon seems shocked before he melts into it and hugs Johnny back.

“Thankyou,” Johnny mumbles, “Thankyou Si.”

“I’m sorry.” Simon mumbles and Johnny knows what he means and that he means it.

“I know. It’s okay.” Johnny holds him close and Elizabeth begs to be invited into the hug, the two of them squishing her between them to cuddle her as she yells in laughter at them both.

[lifeonthemurdersim]

All Roads Lead To Here - Chapter 1: Left in the Dark Fandom/Universe: Siren From Hell (Sadistic By Nature Universe) Characters/Pairing: Trance x OC(?), Seiren x OC(?) AO3 Link(full tags, warnings etc here) Word count: 2,364 words Synopsis: Hope has been through a lot of murder loops, and they're used to seeing a lot of blood, torture and death in the process. But right now? She just really wants to sleep. Author's Note: This is a multi-chapter fic that will be completed by the end of Gorekinktober, forming the last (chronologically) part of Sadistic By Nature, a series of fics I've written for a shared universe between mine and @cptsadist's characters. Trance, Seiren(mentioned) and Egon(mentioned) belong to them! More about Gorekinktober on my pinned post here! Kinktober prompt(s) used: Blood Play Goretober prompt used: Possessed

Hope was in dire need of some help.

She was pretty sure it was evening now, approaching a full day since Trance had kidnapped her. The lack of sleep was actually rendering them vaguely delirious at this point. Shadows in the basement became shifting, abstract shapes. Everything had blurred edges. It wasn't just the tiredness, either. They were starving, dehydrated, they needed the bathroom, they honestly felt disgusting going over a day without a shower. Trance and, axiomatically, Seiren had left again, so conversation certainly wasn't an option. They couldn't even use their fucking phone to read or write or draw something; they were used to being overstimulated but rarely this horrifically understimulated. They felt like a Sim on 6 bars of fucking red.

She started singing quietly to herself just so she didn't lose her mind completely. "If I keep myself at home, I won't make the same mistake..."  They were a good singer, but the way it echoed around the dark basement was honestly kind of creepy. "That I made for fifteen years, I could be a new girl..." She sighed, already feeling weird just singing all alone in the dark, drawing slowly to a close after the single verse. "I will be... a new girl..."

You'd think if she was this tired, she'd be able to just... sleep, no matter what. But Hope had always been an insomniac. Sandy used to say they were "just a picky sleeper", like they were being purposefully difficult. But then Sandy used to say a lot of things. They'd had it more under control since college. They'd even made up a silly little acronym for it, an oddly fitting one considering they'd lived in Canada at the time. "I can only sleep when it's SNOWED." They'd only ever said it in their head, of course. Everyone else would find it stupid.

The first one, Silence, they had that. Truth was it wasn't really even silence they needed as such, just calmer sounds than those they'd grown up with; annoying sirens, fights breaking out, freight trains rattling over the nearby railway bridge. Right now it was too quiet, eerily quiet. Dark, that was fulfilled too, they couldn't really complain about that. It was the four criteria in the middle that were severely lacking for them, and that didn't look likely to change any time soon.

She heard what sounded like footsteps upstairs, right beside the basement door, and raised her head up slightly, waiting for it to open, a mix of scared they'd alerted someone and desperate for someone to come and talk to them. But when no trace of that came they slumped their head back down defeatedly. They shouldn't be hoping for Trance to get back anyway, it made no sense. Although... it did seem like he was only doing this to them because he had to. It wasn't like they hadn't killed out of necessity themself before.

God, they really shouldn't think like that. They couldn't risk getting attached to a captor again. Not after last time. But they saw so many similarities between themself and Trance that it was kind of difficult not to at times. The lines were admittedly kind of blurred by the fact that they'd already found him kind of hot as a celebrity. They still couldn't stop thinking about last night.

The way he'd teased his knife over her chest, tracing thin red lines over it. It was only when they'd made reference to the fact they, like he, had learnt to enjoy the sight of blood, did he begin to really cut. They looked down at the tear down the middle of their shirt and their heart beat faster again recalling it. The cuts that littered her pale skin there still stung a little, especially since he'd attempted to clean them with fucking whiskey this morning. It had hurt. But they enjoyed a little pain.

It was when he'd began to lick the blood from them, though, that their arousal really peaked. They'd have let him do almost anything to them at that point. They remembered the smarting sting from each lick, recalled the rough warmth of Trance's tongue against their skin, and their legs tingled a little, and at the time they'd moaned, god they'd flat-out moaned, he must have thought they were such a weirdo. But then maybe they were, because the memory of her blood and his saliva running together into wet, clear reddish smears against their chest was unbearably arousing. They wanted to beg him to cut more, lick more, cut more, lick more... lick more... lick more...

Imagining Trance running his tongue all over them again was making them shift their legs uncomfortably on the floor, already starting to blush deeply as their body tingled all over. Was it Trance, though, or Seiren? She recalled that little hint of fangs, the way his eyes had glowed... he may very well have been fully possessed by the demon as he did it. Was the imp just enjoying the taste of the blood... or was he actually in control at the time?

Either way... what if they hadn't stayed silent when he drew back, worried he was getting carried away? Those words felt like a warning, considering they'd already seen themself die at his hand the first time he'd uttered them. Hope's strange ability to die and come back, to experience kidnaps as some sort of endless loop until they found a safe route out, sometimes led them to overcautiousness, and now they were left with fear of missing out on what would have happened if things continued the previous night.

"Get carried away, please..." they begged in a quiet, delirious murmur. "Trance... Seiren..." She sighed quietly, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the pole. She wasn't averse to either of them being the one doing it, hell they'd probably be accepting of anyone's hands on them at this point, but they had to admit, they had a slight preference. They didn't fully like the way Seiren had spoken to them that morning. A little patronising, in their opinion, and that hurt their pride more than any taunts or abuse. She guessed she shouldn't really expect to like a demon. But she was going to have to live with the fact he was the one showing when their blood came into it.

"Seiren..." they repeated, still in that quiet, breathy murmur. "You'll get more blood out of me this way, Seiren..." the more confident version of them in their mind bargained flirtily. "Taste me again...?"  They imagined more cuts, more small sharp stings, more blood to sustain him. He needed them. He might not want them but he needed them to feed on at the moment. Almost like a vampire. Hmm. Maybe there was an appeal to Seiren there that they'd overlooked.

As they began to imagine, they tried moving their arms but they remained restrained, the rope chafing against their wrists. That was making the fantasy they had in their head more difficult, but certainly not impossible. They were somewhat of a writer after all. Seiren probably wouldn't agree to help, not wanting to give his iminent prey any kind of wiggle room no matter how much blood she offered. Maybe Trance would, though?

"I can't let you go." they imagined him saying, but then his face would soften a little. "But... maybe I can... bend the rules a little?"  They pictured him loosening their restraints slightly, their wrists still held tight against the pole, running his hands down their body and then taking their waist to slide them onto the floor, straddling them.

Yes, that preference was returning in full force. It wasn't even just because they were a fan of the singer, though there was probably some hint of parasocial fascination. It was actually because his personality when speaking with them here had captured their heart with sympathy far more than his more confident public persona. She knew it wasn't smart, but she couldn't help it. "Trance..." she shifted to whispering decisively in real life. Pleading with their imagined version of their captor. "Trance, Trance..."

"I think these are going to be in the way, aren't they sweetheart?"  he'd tease as he picked up on their desperation for him, running a hand over the fabric of her shorts, gliding across her thighs with only the thin layer of her tights between them."Whatever can we do about that...?" He'd make it difficult, like everything else, putting up obstacles, only this time she'd relish the challenge. In their head, they'd have to toy with him a little in return.

"What, you're that out of touch with regular people you can't undo a button, Trance?"  they'd reply with a playful wink. In reality they'd stopped saying anything at all, instead biting down on their lip, their eyes still shut tight. They hoped Trance would bite too, at their neck, at their lip as he kissed them, maybe even their thighs. In this idealistic little world they were carving maybe that could be their punishment for being a smartass. They'd bite him back hard though given half the chance. He deserved it for being an asshole. He also deserved it for being so sexy.

They were squirming against the pole as they imagined him spreading their legs and sliding in between them. Touching, teasing, slow as they lay there, bound helplessly. Their breath grew faster and deeper, their chest rising and falling as they wondered if they could get their legs around his neck. He wasn't that much taller than them. They bet they could. In their fantasy they certainly could. "Fuck me, Trance. Fuck me." He'd look at her like she was everything then. Like he adored her.

Because the truth was, last night had left her in a state because as always, it wasn't really about the blood, or the masochism, or being tied up. Yeah she got horny easily, but the fact she chose to share that wasn't because sex with another was necessarily better than on their own. It was the desperate want to be touched, to be intimate with someone, most of all to be loved. To be valued and adored and worth something instead of hurt and traumatised and killed over and over again. With the people she ended up with, be that through her own shitty choices or plain bad luck, the only way to really have that was to let themself be used.

Unfortunately with no ability to act upon her desires, all their active imagination was leading to was frustration. She squeezed her thighs together, shifting them back and forth to try to generate some friction, but to no avail. Finally opening their eyes, they let out an exasperated grunt, kicking their heel hard against the floor in frustration. It fucking hurt. But then what didn't anymore?

"...Everything alright?" Trance asked. The real Trance. They jumped hard. When the hell had he even come down here? They must have been so out of touch with reality that they didn't even register him coming down the stairs.

"Trance!" they replied with a mix of excitement he was actually there and a weird sense of guilt. "I-I was... just..." What exactly are they trying to cover up here? He had no idea they were just fantasising about him. He didn't exactly catch them red-handed when they were literally unable to use their hands. They tried to keep their breathing as quiet as possible so it wouldn't be obvious. "It's... good to... see you?" they ventured. What the fuck were they even saying at this point?

"Look, if you're going to try and persuade me to let you go, don't bother." he muttered. "Seiren made it pretty clear you're going to be the next one to feed him."

"I... I know..." they murmured distantly. They didn't know what to do about it with their brain too exhausted to function properly. "I just... I can't fucking sleep like this, Trance." they urged. Their dual needs and thier- ironically- vaguely trancelike state combined to induce them to mumble out an unusually bold request. "Maybe if I could... could share your bed..."

Trance raised a brow at them. "You gotta be fucking kidding..." he replied. There was some intrigue in his expression, his tongue running briefly across his lips, before he put up his walls again. "I'm not running a fucking hotel here, hun."

"I just, I really need something, I... I need..." they pleaded disjointedly, then gave him a desperate look. "I know you're only going to kill me but... but I just really need to sleep before I lose my fucking mind."

Trance scoffed slightly, rolling his eyes. "If I could wave a wand and give someone a good night's sleep, I wouldn't use it on you, sweetheart." he replied defensively, but then paused, looking her over with just a hint of empathy, and he seemed to be wrestling with his thoughts before relenting slightly. "Is there... anything else I can do for you though?"

"Fuck me...?" She obviously didn't say that thought aloud. If he wanted that he would have taken it from them already, just like almost everyone who'd had her in this position. Even a brief reprieve from all of this would help. Instead her eyes flicked to the side. "I really need a piss." they admitted, aware their involuntarily shifting legs would give credence to the claim. "A-and a shower, actually." they added quickly, eyes flicking upwards towards their now somewhat greasy hair. "Could I please just use your bathroom for like..." They didn't take long to get clean, of course. But what they needed right now might require a little more work, especially if they were standing. "...fifteen minutes?"

Trance looked at them suspiciously, stared at them for an uncomfortably long time. Eventually though, he seemed to take pity and relent, kneeling down beside them, untieing the rope Egon had bound their hands with and grabbing them by the arm to help them to their feet, his knife pointed in her direction. "Ten minutes." he replied. "Don't do anything stupid."

Since I'm guessing songs are usually credited, Hope's singing "Love Me More" by Mitski.