#I COULD DO THIS ALL DAY FOLKS I COULD DO THIS ALL DAY

[sachinteng]

Syntax Error

After years of being asked about it, I thought I'd tell the story of my peculiar name, and explain what this little logogram I started using is about.

I don't look like my name should be Sachin. South Asian folks point it out to me all the time. If you don't know, Sachin is a Sanskrit name, and I am visibly not Desi, so people are often confused. People usually ask if I'm named after Sachin Tendulkar, the famous cricket player. And for a period of time my local Indian restaurant thought I was Indian and would give me free rice! Until they found out I wasn't and stopped. Very sad day.

So why am I named Sachin if I'm not Desi?

The name my parents gave me is 十晴. Specifically my dad. My father insisted on naming me. Spent months obsessing over it. But he never gave me an English name. And on the day I was born my dad was…asleep, didn't answer the phone which rang all day, and missed the entire birth. To this day my mother tells this story whenever I miss a phone call. So, when I was born they had no idea what to put on my birth certificate.

The pinyin translation for 十晴 is Shí Qíng. But my mom didn't know pinyin. The lawyer who drew up the paperwork for my birth certificate was Indian, and when he heard 十晴, he said, 'that sounds like Sachin. I'll just put that!' And my mother, tired and alone in the hospital, in a foreign land called Flushing, Queens, said okay. And who can blame her.

And that's how I got my name. In the most arbitrary, accidental way possible. My dad, after months and months of hyper-focusing on a name, fumbled it all right at the end. I wish I could say my name was meaningful in Hànyǔ at least but, my name is very strange to Hànyǔ speakers as well.

The character 十 means 'ten' as in the number 10. And 晴 means 'clear sunny skies.' It's the kind of word a weather reporter will commonly use in the forecast. Honestly, Ten Sunny Skies sounds like a Wǔxiá character. Like Eight Flying Lotuses or Five Poison Fists, or something. Not gunna lie, I prefer this explanation.

So my dad loves to tell this joke…about how his name is too hard to write. It has so many strokes in it that when he was in school taking tests it took him so long to write his name on tests that when he was finished writing it the other students already finished taking the whole test. So, when he has a child he's going to make sure to give them the easiest name with the fewest strokes possible.

And that's where it comes from. Some dinner party joke he liked to tell friends. Thanks dad.

My name has a different meaning to me now as an adult. Over the years many people have heard my name and said, 'Do you know the story of Hòu Yì 后羿?'

An old folktale says there used to be 10 Suns. They would cycle one at a time, because there can never be more than one sun in the sky at the same time. But, one day the suns got lonely, they wanted to see each other and broke the rules. All 10 suns burned at the same time. To stop the suns from burning the entire world down Hòu Yì, the legendary archer, shot the suns out of the sky and left just one, the sun we have today.

It's a fable about doing too much, not thinking about the consequences, and literally burning out. Something I relate to more than I'd like. I burned out hard a few years ago and recovering was a long, painful journey that I never want to repeat.

In the end, the last Sun loses all their siblings and has to carry the burden alone. But, if they'd just had patience and paced themselves, there would still be 10 suns across 'Ten Sunny Skies 十晴.'

[wakayrd]

More theatre stuff! I've started to put all the theatre doodles I do under a tag called "isat curtain call" because I wanted to be organized lol

MIRABELLE! Mirabelle is kind of a powerhouse at the theatre. She acts in a lot of the plays they put on (and gets really nervous before going on stage). She has lots of folks who are her neighbors or friends who attend shows and always overwhelm her with tons of flowers. She appreciates it but it can be a bit much! She's always around to help- She will show up for set construction, set decor, lighting design... anything- and all on top of acting! She's even the theatre's health and safety rep! (the little bit at the bottom is inspired by true events... yeah...)

Bonnie!! Bonnie started volunteering with the theatre recently after coming to see a pantomime for Peter Pan. They love to help out with the snack bar, and even wear nice clothing for the shows to look all professional. They also usher sometimes! All with adult supervision of course. They are allowed to come help with set decor (painting the set!) but NOT set construction. They sometimes convince their older sister to stop by the theatre when everyone else is working to drop off homemade goodies. They also like to hang out in the sound/light booth, the stage looks so different from up there! They're close with Odile, who shows them a ton of stuff. They hope that sometime they can also start doing the light cues during a show. They don't want to work near Siffrin backstage, even though that's something they could perhaps start doing now.

Sometimes... it feels like there's something in the theatre, hanging out in the catwalks, judging silently. Maybe... someone... But if you turn around to see them, they're gone! The theatre might be haunted, who knows. That seems the most plausible theory... Siffrin tends to spend a lot of time on the catwalks as well. Perhaps he'd know more about this mysterious spirit of the theatre?

The Spirit of the Theatre! (Loop!) They're always around. They're actually convinced that they're not able to leave the theatre. The hat? They stole it from the costume room! It makes hiding that glow ever so easy- Sometimes they steal coats or matching robes from there, just to make hiding easier. They're so knowledgeable in all things theatre, especially the theatre the group operates out of. Sometimes they spend their time alone at the theatre straightening up the props room or making sure all the actor's props and costumes are in their proper places. It really seems like they consider themselves an integral (and invisible) part of the team. They like to watch from afar, that's all. Meeting Siffrin was an accident, one that The Spirit of the Theatre couldn't avoid. Now they have to deal with Siffrin coming to talk to them often, even looking for advice. It's unclear how long they've been there, and when asked for a name, will only say they're the "Spirit of the Theatre."

And that's it from me today I promise I am normal lol I am having fun watching this all form in front of my eyes a little. It's mostly silly goofy stuff and as much as I'd love to stick to canon best I can, I may have to fiddle with it to get it to make sense... especially for Loop :) but if you have any ideas or stuff my inbox is so open I love talking about this- these drawings were stacked up from the last couple of days just me preparing to post... teehee!!

[beloveds-embrace]

So, someone may have already thought about this, but after reading the comments from other folks in the neglected!aus of the Dukedom, I'm looking for a sliver of hope for poor Duchess.

What if there is a newly-hired maid who actually gives a shit about Duchess's well-being, but also not one to take bs? When she notices the duchess being treated unfair, she's quick to ask the rest of the staff. They're no help, and John just turns a blind eye to it. "If you're so worried, then why don't you take care of her yourself?" says half-heartedly.

Challenge accepted (with the utmost diligence).

Because regardless of how things are, she's not gonna let The Lady of The House wither and waste away. Anything Duchess needs, Sweet Maid will be the one to take care of it, not accepting any help or pity from anyone. Plus, less problems means less rumors.

The manor was cold.

Not in the way that stone and drafty halls made a place cold, but in the way that loneliness settled into the bones of a home, making it hollow. You felt it in every ignored whisper of your name, in the meals left at your door but never shared, in the glances that once lingered but now flickered away, as if your presence was something to be endured rather than cherished.

You had learned to sit in that silence, to let the days pass with only the ticking of the grand clock to keep you company. No one seemed to mind that the Duchess of the house was wilting. Not the servants who barely acknowledged you, not the man who had vowed to be your partner in all things.

So it was a surprise when a sharp knock interrupted the monotony of your existence.

You barely had the energy to respond. “Enter.”

The door swung open, and in stepped a young woman dressed in the crisp uniform of the household staff. But unlike the others, she did not hesitate in the doorway, did not cast you a wary glance before hurrying off to complete some other, more important task- because you were at the bottom of the list of importance to them.

No- this one marched inside with purpose, hands on her hips, bright eyes scanning the room like a general surveying a battlefield.

“Oh, absolutely not!”

You blinked, fully looking at her. “I beg your pardon?”

The maid- Shirin, you would later learn- looked positively appalled, her gaze darting between the untouched vanity, the dust gathering in the corners, the discarded meal trays with barely a dent in them.

“This is unacceptable!” she declared.

You almost laughed. You had never heard one of the staff speak so freely before, but you didn’t mind. At least she was speaking to you.

Instead, you tilted your head, studying her. “And you are?”

Shirin straightened, her expression softening when her eyes met yours. “Shirin, Your Grace. I’ve just been hired, and let me tell you, I do not approve of how they’ve been treating you.”

Your lips parted, but before you could respond, she was already moving- striding toward the heavy curtains and yanking them open, letting sunlight pour into the dim room.

“Goodness, no wonder you look so sick! They’ve been keeping you in the dark like some tragic ghost.”

You winced at the sudden brightness, but you found yourself watching, entranced, as Shirin moved with swift efficiency. She gathered the abandoned trays and muttered under her breath about the nerve of leaving food for a Duchess like she’s a stray cat, shaking her head in obvious disapproval.

You frowned. “Why does it matter to you?”

Shirin turned, her brows furrowing in genuine confusion. “Because you’re you!” she said, as if that should be obvious.

You didn’t know how to respond to that.

With a huff, Shirin clapped her hands together. “Alright! First things first, we’re getting you properly bathed, dressed, and fed. No more arguments.”

You raised a brow. “I haven’t argued.”

“Oh, you will,” she said knowingly, already heading toward the bathing chamber. “But I’m terribly stubborn, and I always win, my lady.”

For the first time in ages, you felt something unfamiliar flutter in your chest. Something warm. And you weren’t quite sure what to do with it.

Within minutes, Shirin had the bath drawn- hot water steaming as she added fragrant oils with a hum. She returned to your bedside, hands on her hips.

“Well?”

You hesitated. You didn’t even know why- and yet tou hesitated.

She softened, stepping closer. “Your Grace,” she said gently. “You deserve to be taken care of.”

Something in you cracked, and without a word, you let her help you to the bath.

She was kind but firm, helping you undress without making you feel small, washing your hair with a gentleness that made your throat tighten. When you were clean and wrapped in the softest robe, she helped you to a chair before the vanity, brushing creams onto your face with careful strokes.

“See?” she murmured. “Not so bad, my lady.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. “No,” you admitted. “Not bad at all.”

Shirin, and you found yourself helpless against the warmth of it. She squealed when she noticed your own smile.

By the time you were settled in fresh clothes, Shirin had already changed the linens, aired out the room, and brought in a meal that smelled heavenly. The warmth of the plate alone almost made you tear up.

She cut the food into small bites- not in a condescending way, but in a way that said she simply wanted to make things easier for you.

You took a tentative bite, and Shirin lit up.

“Oh, thank the stars, you’re eating!” she cheered.

You gave her a look, but there was no real heat behind it.

“I always win, my lady. I told you so!” She reminded you with a wink.

And for once, you didn’t mind losing.

Meanwhile, the rest of the staff had noticed Shirin’s warpath.

She was sweet with you- warm, chatty, the very definition of a doting maid. But with them?

“Oh, no no no,” she had scolded Johnny that morning. “You expect the Duchess to eat this?” She had snatched the meal away with a huff, muttering about standards before personally overseeing a proper one.

And when she had cornered John, her expression turning so positively icy, she hadn’t even pretended to be intimidated.

“If you’re so worried, then why don’t you take care of her yourself?” he had muttered, dismissive, too focused on his work to care about a singular maid taking pity on you.

Shirin had only grinned. Fine. She will take the very best care of you!

[hexb0nes]

Could I request a smutty one-shot with Viktor x transmasc!Reader where reader is pent up after not seeing Viktor due to him being in the lab and Viktor helps them get off on his thigh?

Only if you feel comfortable writing that though! And take your time! xx

Clean Up on Aisle 5

word count: 1.3k

contains: transmasc!reader x vikto (you two are established boyfriends), many mentions of clit/boydick/cunt/boypussy, praise, dirty talk, thigh fucking, semi-public sex, pathetic whimpering from reader, this is what the folks back home would call a 'slip n' slide' pussy, use of sir and goodboy, czech terms of endearment

summary: viktor has been spending too many all-nighters in the lab and your vibrator is broken, it's time to execute plan b to solve your dire need for sexual release.

a/n: yes, this is a cheesy title, but it's the best one i could come up with!! anywho, love me some transmasc!reader smut <3 you came to the right place, for i am the transmasc!reader KING!!!!!!!! ok enjoy :D

You mindlessly scroll through the various channels on the television in you and Viktor’s shared apartment. News, news, soap opera, history documentary, more news, more, more– “Gods, why isn’t he home?” you shut off the TV and toss the remote across the sofa. For the past two weeks, Viktor has been all work and no play, pulling all-nighters in the lab. It’s for the sake of science, he would argue to you, we’re making a breakthrough with Hextech’s capabilities, I’ll be back tomorrow night.

Yet, each promise to return extends day by day, as you’re stuck eating dinner and sleeping alone. You yearn for your boyfriend’s presence, to hug him tight and play with his hair. Gods, Viktor is just the cutest human being you’ve ever laid eyes on; how you admire his wavy chocolate hair, the moles that adorn his face, his crooked smile with that little fang of–

You’re wet. 

You peek inside your flannel pants and stretch your boxers out just a bit, examining the scene. Sure enough, you’re drenched, slit staining the inside of your frog-patterned boxers. Days spent all pent up with no sexual intimacy has you in a precarious state. You leap off the sofa and make a beeline for the bedroom. You rummage through your nightstand and locate your vibrator, “Jackpot.”

You click the power button and nothing happens, so you click it again. Then again. Then again and again. It’s dead. You pop the batteries out of it and discard them in the trash can near your desk. Setting the sex toy down, you dig through the contents of your desk in search of new batteries, but to no avail. 

“Fuck,” you groan. That’s the only toy that gets you off, other than–

Viktor.

Your eyes light up with an idea, a mischievous glint in your irises. Throwing your coat and shoes, you exit your apartment and hail a carriage, directing them to the Academy District. Upon arrival, you tip the coachman handsomely and hop off the carriage, jogging over to the Hextech Laboratory. You exchange smiles and pleasantries with the Enforcers on watch, as you make your way to the lab with a proud stride. 

You arrive outside the lab and–with the strength of a sexually frustrated man–swing the door open, “Viktor!” you shout without care for the late hour. 

The man in question pauses his tinkering and turns to face you. Viktor moves his goggles up to his forehead, exposing his deep honey amber eyes, “Miláčku, what a lovely surprise,” he snaps his goggles back on and continues his work, “Did you leave something at the lab?”

“I do,” you waltz up to him and press your chest against his neck, “Its name starts with ‘V’ and ends with ‘iktor’, have you seen my lost possession?” you hum. Viktor sets his soldering tools down and tilts his head up towards you, “You seem upset.”

“I’m not upset,” you retort. Viktor raises his eyebrows at you and you quickly concede, “Okay, I’m a little upset. It’s been two weeks of you living in the lab 24/7!” you wrap your arms around your boyfriend’s neck and squeeze him, “I miss you, baby.”

Viktor softens at your explanation, “Miláčku, I truly am sorry for all these late nights. The Council has us on a crunch time to present our latest invention and some errors have left us scrambling,” he pecks the underside of your chin, “Once this is all over, I’m treating you to a night of celebration and hedonism.”

“That sounds great,” you chuckle and release your hold around Viktor. He reaches for his tools, but you intercept him and gently grab his chin, making the inventor look you in the eyes, “But, Viktor, I need you now,” you guide one of his hands down your pants and boxers so he can feel your wetness, “Viktor, please.”

Viktor releases his hand from your undergarments, some slick on his fingers and glistening under the moonlight. He licks his hands clean of your juices and murmurs, “I have a solution,” he cleans his hands off with medical grade hand sanitizer and adjusts his position in his chair, his stronger thigh and leg facing you, “Fuck yourself on my thigh, kočičko.”

You shudder at the pet name and more juice leaks out of your cunt, “Yes, sir,” you remove your clothes and become fully nude, your boydick throbbing hard from the arousal and the coldness in the lab. Viktor casts you a smile, his pupils enlarged at the sight of your nudity. You walk up to his leg and hover over it, slowly going down until you make contact with the fabric of Viktor’s pants, “Oh Gods.”

“Miláčku, you’re going to stain my pants,” Viktor chuckles, not taking his eyes off his project. He jerks his thigh up and hits your boydick, earning a strained mewl from you. Your cunt aches for your boyfriend’s touch, but for now, you must satisfy yourself with his thigh and his thigh alone. 

You press your cunt against Viktor’s thigh and shiver, the pressure on your clit clouding your mind with lust. Timidly, you begin to rub yourself back and forth, securing yourself and Viktor by wrapping your arms around his torso. Pathetic whimpers fall from your lips, as you pick up speed, rocking your hips against Viktor’s thigh.

“I promise to worship you like the divine being you are very soon,” hums Viktor, as sparks from his soldering tools fly about in the air. So much for lab safety, you’re pretty sure that you and Viktor have broken at least ten lab safety protocols with this. Yet, you don’t mind, too busy humping Viktor’s leg like a bitch in heat. Slick drips from your sloppy cunt and down Viktor’s pants leg, a few drops getting on the linoleum floor of the prestigious lab. 

“Viktor… Viktor…” you chant your lover’s name like a prayer, as you moan and groan from the friction against your cunt and boydick, “Touch me… Touch me, please!” 

“Sorry, miláčku, but I’m not done with my work just yet,” he answers. You sense the sinister smile behind his words, Viktor always relishes in the act of making you unravel. Not wanting to waste another moment trying to get your boyfriend to join in, you continue your grinding against his thigh, the metal stool Viktor sits on creaks with each thrust.

“Can I cum?” you whine to Viktor.

“Say the magic words, first,” Viktor states.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes, orgasm on the horizon, “Please, sir, please let me cum!”

“Good boy,” Viktor nods, “You may cum.”

You fall apart on Viktor’s thigh, as your body seizes from the orgasm. Your cunt pulsates from the intensity of your climax, more slick and juice spilling out. You pant and try to catch your breath, your mind hazy from the pleasure. Once adjusted to your surroundings, you slide off Viktor’s thigh and examine the damage. About two-thirds of his thigh is soaked, the impression of your boypussy stamped in the center.

“I’ll buy you new pants,” you laugh. 

“That would be appreciated,” comments Viktor.

“You got any paper towels, though?” you then inquire, “The floor around your chair looks like the aftermath of a tsunami-” you pause and sniff the air, “And some air freshener. The lab smells like sex.” 

“Top drawer by my desk, I’ll help clean up shortly,” Viktor responds.

You can’t have the janitor come in and have to put a wet floor sign up because of this!

[fifilefttheloom]

A few months back I wrote this fragment of fic in rhyme. The idea that started it all was imagining a Shen Jiu who was kept at Cang Qiong as a prisoner for his association with Wu Yangzi. He's taught proper cultivation to calm down his qi deviations, and let out when he shows he's no longer a demonic cultivator. But he's not allowed to leave Cang Qiong. So, he builds a little hut in the woods on QingJing peak, so he doesn't have to face Qi-ge, but can still be close-ish. He spends his time listening in on lectures and getting really, really, REALLY good at everything. He's this mysterious shadow of Qing Jing peak, a myth passed around after lights out.

Eventually young, struggling students find that if they brave the scary woods they can get some tutoring (or a beating if he's in a bad mood) by the eternally bored mysterious hermit amongst the bamboo.

A Merlin type character, basically. And thinking of that made me want to put it into verse.

I'll never finish it, but it's a lot of fun anyways.

Intro:

Many worlds away a fool lay wandering

his mind whirling with visions pondering

the lives and habits of men and beasts

of faces fierce and fair, of fights and feasts.

A prophet and a fool, bound to capitalism

brought these wild dreams into commercialism.

As is often said, when coin enters a tail,

the truth and heart of it are slain.

Backstory:

When the wisest witnessed the rotten killer

mumbling into the earth the shameless murderer

he was hostage, homeless, hapless prisoner

have mercy, don't main me, no further torture,

death will suffice for my wretched, worthless life.

Were the wise moved while wielding the executioner's knife?

Or had lost too many to the Demonic Path's strife?

Or was their sadism not slaked by the boy's death,

so they left him and his pain to grow with every breath?

Mercy or sadism, the result is the same.

Under the wisest watchful eyes the prisoner came

to dwell in a ramshackle hermitage hidden amongst bamboo.

He's live out his days in quiet contemplation of broken taboos

and his numerous sins.

Luo Binghe enters stage left

Luo Binghe hears whispers of a hermit

of whom the hallmasters do not permit

a single outspoken word of deference.

Their eyes sharpened and their shoulders wince

whenever a student's skill suddenly rises.

The children bear any harsh prices

for their impudence, disobedience,

independence, putrid adolescence.

No punishment can compare to a breakthrough.

If one fails to learn, a desolate life off the mountain,

threatens more to a poor youth than any cruel due.

Our main character is hopeless.

His calligraphy chicken scratch and tea ceremony a mess.

The hallmasters look down their noses and spit.

The raggedy riff-raff that crawl from fetid pits,

should stay where gentile folk need not smell them.

The penniless waifs are wastrels all,

how could they have heard the noble mountains' call?

Roughly taken is the thought that,

the highest cultivator once was a street rat.

So our youth, with fists clenched,

follows Ning Yingying into the dark bamboo forest drenched

with mystery and lost history and bitter dew.

The sun cannot reach the forest floor in leu

of the verdant canopy. Only for her practiced pace

do our trembling couple find the hermit's place.

Her eyes brighten but the hermit turns sharply to frighten

the interlopers who dare to interrupt his attempt to heighten

his reach with his broken step-ladder. Indeed,

his person, basket, bundle of thatching reed,

all tumble into an inglorious muddle.

He curses and snarls in indignation,

fighting back his humiliation.

Why are Ying-er and this snot nosed brat,

here unexpectedly to witness that?

They beg and weave their woeful tale,

The hallmasters are determined to fail

this undeserving peasant boy.

[soul-meister]

BASOPHOBIA : poly!lost boys x fem!emerson!reader : the lost boys : oneshot

not beta read

cw: basophobia/fear of falling, the boys pressuring reader, sexual harassment(comments/the boys→reader), reader has a decided first name but goes by her middle name--(your name)

summary: your brother brings you along on his hunt to find this mysterious girl from a few nights ago.

"Are you sure you'll find her again? It's been a couple days... Plus, it sounded like she had a boyfriend," you spoke from beside your brother, making your way from the clothing shop where he had bought a leather jacket with the money he gained from his job as a lifeguard. Or was he a beach janitor?

"I just know I'll see her again... And that doesn't matter cause she seemed interested in me," he replied, his head swiveling in various directions as he kept an eye out for a brunette with bouncy curls. An eyebrow raised at your brother's nonchalant attitude at becoming a possible homewrecker.

"Right... So, if you think she's interested in you, why am i here?"

"Just in case she's too nervous to approach me because...well..."

"Because you're a stalker?" You finished for your brother, referencing what you had heard from Sam about Michael following some mystery girl around the board walk a few nights ago.

"Exactly...wait. What?! No!" His head snapped to you, an an incredulous look on his face before he scoffed and rolled his eyes, turning his attention to a piercing stand where a girl was being consoled by the piercer and her friend.

"It's a rip-off," a voice whispered from behind you, causing both you and michael to turn and see a beautiful woman.

Michael nodded his head in her direction, mumbling the words, "that's her," before taking off after the woman with you not far behind. "Hi."

"If you want your ear pierced, I'll do it."

Michael ignored the offer for now, "what's your name?"

"Star."

"Oh, your folks too, huh?" A small smile surfaced on your face, knowing what he was referencing to.

A nervous chuckle then broke through your lips at the quick turn of star's head and her words, "what do you mean?" She seemed anxious at the littlest mention of her parents.

"Ex-hippies," he replied, and you could see her body loosen up once again. "I came this close to being named moonbeam or moon-child. Someone here wasn't as lucky, though," he elbowed you lightly.

the girl's eyebrows scrunched up near the end, "are you two...siblings?"

The corners of you lips dropped slightly at the allusion of you and Michael--Sam, as well--not being similar in appearance as you looked more like your father, something that made you insecure. From what you remembered your mom telling you, she had met your father on the road and ended up pregnant. They only lasted a few months before she met your brothers' father while in the later stage of pregnancy.

You quickly fixed your expression, now coming off as happier than before, "we are. He's my younger brother," your ruffled said person's curls, ruining all the work he had put into styling his hair at home for the possibility he met some concert girl, now known as Star.

"Just call me (Your Name); it's my middle name. Cloud just sounds so stupid to me." A few seconds went by before you realized you basically just insulted Star's name. "Yours is so cute, though. It really suits you, " the words rushed out of your mouth in hopes to lessen the damage.

Glancing at your brother, you noticed the small smirk he sent your way, probably trying to hold in a laugh at your nerves. His attention turned back to the beauty, "Star's great. I like Star."

"Me too," you nodded your head in agreement, worried you had already fucked up and would be seen in a bad light by Star. More like a light that flickered constantly. The thought of her knowing, even if she didn't, that you and Michael didn't share a father carried along in the back of your head as a fault.

There was awkward silence between the three of you and your brother decided to end it by introducing himself, "I'm Michael."

"Michael? Michael's great. I like Michael," Star's gaze fixated on you and there was a playful gleam, "yours is so cute, too. It really suits you." You relaxed at Star's mimicry of you and your brother, seeing that she knew you had no ill-will in your remark.

Seeing that the three of you reached his bike, your brother leaned into your ear, "I'm thinking of getting some dinner with Star, want me to bring you home anything?"

You thought over the prospect before shaking your head, "Sam probably hasn't eaten anything either so I'm gonna try and find him so we can eat together.'

"You sure?" You nodded your head in confirmation. "Alright, see ya later, Cloud."

"Bye, Mikey," you turned your attention to Star who stood off to the side, waiting for you and your brother to finish conversing, "Bye Star. I hope to see you again sometime."

Before you were able to take a step away from your brother the rumbling of engines raced towards your trio. The front wheel of a somewhat familiar blonde with curls--where had you seen him again--got a little to close to your feet for your liking, forcing you to back away and hide behind Michael.

"Where you going, Star?"

She glanced at your brother, not entirely sure what the two were going to do, only having heard snippets of your conversation only a few minutes ago. Noticing her questioning gaze, Michael answered for her, "gonna go for a ride and get some dinner."

"Right," Star nodded before introducing the two of you to who you assumed were her friends, "this is Michael and his sister, (Your Name)." At the mention of your name, you could feel various sets of eyes land on your figure but you ignored them by staring at the familiar head of brown hair.

"Star," the unnamed man spoke again and silence followed as she didn't respond outwardly, though it seemed as if she were inwardly fighting herself. And those inner thoughts that had gone against her wants had won as she made her way over to the bleached blonde and sat herself on the back of his bike.

A blonde with hair that resembled a lion's mane chuckled.

"You know where Hudson's bluff is overlooking the point?" The leader of this oddly dressed biker gang questioned.

"I can't beat your bike."

"You don't have to beat me, Michael. You just have to try and keep up." The faux blonde's head tilted, allowing him to get a better look at you, a smirk adorning his features, "and why don't you bring your sister along with you." It wasn't a question, he was telling both you and Michael that you were coming along for the ride whether you liked it or not. And you most certainly weren't going to enjoy it.

Not waiting for michael to reply, you spoke for yourself in a polite manner, "I'm sorry, but I have plans already. Plus, my mom said she was gonna drive me home."

"We can take you home, babe, if that's what you're worried about. Though, I'm not too sure you'll want to be going home by the end of the night." It was the chuckler"**Not even having to take a glance over, you just knew his eyes were traveling up and down your body. You felt it. And it felt...weird.

"Yeah, hang with us, sweetcheeks," the curly flaxen with the face of a cherub spoke, his upper body leaning forward with a forearm resting on one the handles.

"Unless, you're scared," that was the leader, once again, making another statement. He could probably smell the anxiousness oozing out of you at the thought of riding a bike. And just like he did with your brother, he was egging you on but you needed a little more push to go through with something like this.

"Oh, you are scared. Aren't you, sweetheart? You can ride with me. Promise I won't go easy," the cherub gave you a wink as he began to nibble at the nail of his thumb.

"Why don't you go with me instead? The drive can be bumpy and I'll make sure you don't fall off. Might even make you feel good." You felt how your cheeks burned at the innuendo coming from the messy blonde.

You also noticed how your smile began to slip as the two blondes "charmed" you into going, but you willed yourself to keep the corners of your mouth turned up, even if it oozed nervousness. "I'll- I'll go with Mikey."

Said person's gaze switched to you, his eyes widened slightly as you've never wanted to go on a ride with him, or even simply sit on the contraption--you preferred to keep yourself rooted to the ground. Pushing away the shock, Michael slid onto his bike before helping you on behind him with you wrapping your arms around his torso not long after m

"We're going for a ride," there was a new voice, though barely audible through the engines of the bikes. It could only belong to the last man, a brunette with no shirt underneath, and a young child sat behind him. It was the young boy from the other night.

One by one, the bikes rode off down the boardwalk, forcing pedestrians out of their way unless they wanted to be part of a hit and run.

note: this was meant to be longer but I wanted to get it out of my drafts. Will I finish it one day? Maybe...probably not.

[not-poignant]

it’s funny, you used to put advanced excerpts but now you barely ever do, is that cuz your chapters are way shorter than they used to be?

Oh, my dear troll, I hope you're coping with the world disasters going on okay without spreading hate a- too late!

I've been posting advance excerpts for all of my chapters for months, including for all three that went out this month. And then people get a bunch more (usually too NSFW for me to trust Tumblr with them) on the Discord. I'd give you a link, but I don't specifically want to put it in this post because of reasons.

And my chapter length has been around the same for 1.5 years! It's actually trending up in length :D (about 1.5 years ago it as around 2.8k-3.2k and now it's around 3k to 4.2k - which is all much, much longer than the recommended length of the average serial chapter). Prior to that, I never once posted excerpts when my chapters were longer, so you must be new here, anon.

It's funny how much this reads like one of those negative AI bot scraper comments on AO3, but with the added knowledge that it's probably just a 16 year old who feels very overwhelmed right now with the state of the world and wants to harass a disabled trans person about it. You know, it's true, therapy is expensive, and sometimes it's impossible to find a good one. It's hard when you don't have support or good people in your life, so you find a target you can dehumanise and not think of as a real person, and try to make their life harder.

A lot of folks don't know what to do with their emotions constructively, and so they just want to hurt people with them in a way to feel a rush of dopamine, or feel like they're superior to just one person. The thing is, anon, my life's already pretty difficult, and you might want to at least take your hate and your need to hurt people to like, a transphobe's doorstep or something? Or call a politician and tell them how much their policies hurt you. I'm sure you could use your ability to make jabs at folks and use them for the power of good, y'know? It's hard to be emotionally healthy in this day and age, maybe just don't kick the little guy when they're already down, especially on stuff you're wrong about.

I wish you the best!

[thrushforreal]

It's long, maybe ooc, but who cares, here you go!

~~~

Jason: This is horrible! This is the most humiliating thing to ever happen to me!

Trace: Oh-? Even more humiliating than-

Jason: We are not doing this!

~~~

Steph: You get turned back into a baby but you retain all your skills and memory, what do you do?

Jason: Eat a nickel.

Steph: A reminder: You have retained all your skills and memories.

Trace: Eat a nickel.

Steph: Ok.

~~~

Duke: What's your greatest fear?

Dick: Being forgotten.

Duke: ...

Duke: Damn, that's deep.

Duke: Mine is the Kool Aid man, but I feel kinda stupid about it now...

~~~

Damian: I'm not funny, I'm just really mean and people think I'm joking.

~~~

Duke: The Ocean is a soup.

Trace:

Trace: Do elaborate.

Duke: What are needed for something to be a soup?

Trace: Erm... Water, salt, some form of vegetation, and personally I prefer some meat in mine.

Duke: *Tilts head*

Trace: The Ocean is a Soup.

Duke: The Ocean is a Soup.

~~~

Tim: Yeah, well I've never died so how do I know that god is real.

~~~

Tim: Don’t worry, I know exactly what I’m doing. Everything is going to be fine!

Trace: How can you still say that?

Tim: Because sometimes, when things get tough, denial is all we have.

~~~

Duke, being robbed: Please! Have mercy! I have a family! A wife and kids… a dog…

Cass: Literally none of that is true, Duke.

Duke: Okay, but I’m sexy! That’s gotta count for something, right?

~~~

Tim: Don’t weep for the stupid. You’ll be crying all day.

~~~

*after the Squad's plan goes horribly wrong*

Steph: Now it seems we're back at square one-- finding Cass.

Tim: For the record, I already found them.

Dick: And you let them get away before we could have a meaningful conversation.

Tim: They stabbed me!

Steph: I'm surprised they waited this long, Tim. We've all had the urge.

~~~

Trace: I’ve been here in jail so long I think I’ve lost my mind.

Trace: The days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months.

Trace: How long have I been in here now? Almost a year?

Tim: This is Monopoly.

~~~

Tim: We’re going to defeat you with the power of friendship.

Damian: We’re not friends.

Tim, holding an axe: We’re going to defeat you with the power of incredible violence.

~~~

Trace: I found a note in one of my old word .docs that said Note to self: Get revenge on Tim.

Trace: Except I couldn't remember what I was supposed to get revenge for.

Trace: But I trusted my own judgment, so I went with it.

Tim: Hmm... I don't know what you were supposed to get revenge for, either.

Trace: I can only assume you got what was coming to you. Not 100 percent sure, though.

Tim: Well, whatever I did, I guess I deserved it.

Trace: Let that possibly be a lesson to you.

~~~

That's all, folks!

[polutrope]

Daeron's Foresight

Instead of working on one of my myriad ideas and projects that might actually yield a Product, here's an unsolicited overview of why I headcanon that Daeron is foresighted, or at least a bit of an oddball seer-type.

His mentor is (not explicitly in canon but quite naturally) Melian, not only the most gifted of the Maiar in "songs of enchantment" (also like Daeron) but one known to foresee the future and cultivate this gift in her mentees (e.g., Galadriel)

Association with Music (and water: "made lament beside dark waters") in Tolkien lends itself to greater access to the Meaning of the Universe™ past/present/future, given it all began with a Song.

This passage in Lay of Leithian (Canto V). Thingol has just summoned Daeron to ask him why everything has fallen silent in Doriath (it's because Daeron cast a spell of silence upon seeing Luthien with Beren).

... Daeron coming no word spoke, silent amid the woodland folk. Then Thingol said: 'Oh Daeron fair, thou master of all musics rare, enchanted heart and wisdom wild, whose ear nor eye may be beguiled, who all that passes in this land dost ever heed and understand, what omen doth this silence bear? What horn afar upon the air, what summons do the woods await? Mayhap Lord Tavros from his gate and tree-propped halls, the forest-god, rides his great stallion golden-shod amid the trumpets' tempest loud, amid his green-clad hunters proud, leaving his deer and friths divine and emerald forests? [...] Would it were so! An age now hath gone by since Nahar trod this earth in days of our peace and ancient mirth, ere rebel lords of Eldamar pursuing Morgoth from afar brought war and ruin to the North. Doth Tavros to their aid come forth? But if not he, who comes, or what?' And Daeron said: 'He cometh not. No feet divine shall leave that shore where the Outer Seas' last surges roar, 'till many things be come to pass, and many evils wrought. Alas, the guest is here. The woods are still, but wait not; for a marvel chill them holds at the strange deeds they see, though king sees not - yet queen, maybe, can guess, and maiden doubtless knows who ever now beside her goes.'

First of all, there's Thingol's intriguing way of addressing him, "who all that passes in this land / dost ever heed and understand / what omen doth this silence bear?" which gives strong "you have above-average insight" vibes (don't ask me why he doesn't ask his wife -- we all know there's something Weird going on with the Melian/Thingol/Insight situation). The last part is straight-up asking him to read an omen.

Then Thingol goes off on this tangent about Orome (Tavros) returning, and the hooves of Nahar, and oh that the Valar would come deliver them from Morgoth! and Daeron has this unhinged response. "He cometh not." Can you just imagine that three-worder landing like a brick after Thingol's florid speech? And he goes on to explain himself in these cryptic terms, "'till many things be come to pass, / and many evils wrought." I mean, sure, this could be humorously dismissed with a "No shit, Daeron" but I think he knows a little more about those Things and Evils than he lets on. Then he follows this up with a riddle -- very oracular behaviour -- about Beren's presence in Doriath.

Anyway, I just think Daeron is neat. And even neater if he knew all along, like Melian, that Something was going to happen with Luthien. But, unlike Melian, he does not handle its actual happening with the calm (if grief-laden) acceptance of a god who sang the world into being. He spirals, because his worst predictions are coming true and that means all the rest of it is going to come true also and he just LOSES it and wanders off on "strange paths". That's all we get of him in Silm, but in Leithian there's more. His behaviour is erratic, first "haunting the gloom of tangled trees" and getting enraged when he sees Beren and Luthien together; but then when he's about to divulge to Thingol, he sees Luthien's eyes and won't; then Luthien confides her hope to flee to him, and Daeron spills those beans to Thingol; then he regrets that and actually facilitates her escape. Then he joins a search party to look for her and ... disappears.

His is not the mere despair of a jilted lover: it is the despair of someone who sees the full horror of the future rolling in and can do nothing to stop it; nothing to stop the destruction and death of all that is beautiful (embodied in Luthien, but existing in everything) in the world.

[bodysnatch3r]

copy/pasting my last reply to @darethshirl because i feel like it captures what i'm trying to get at, as someone who has criticisms towards veilguard but also thinks the ideas it presents and the additions it brings to the lore and the overall story are worth exploring:

in a way, it reminds me of the discourse that exploded following star wars: the last jedi's release, how people claimed it had destroyed the franchise, it had gleefully ignored the lore, it had made nonsensical choices and insulted its audience. does the last jedi have flaws? yes. of course. its writing is at its weakest when it fumbles with giving finn a meaningful arc. but i also, personally, think it was one of the best modern star wars movies, and still is. i think it asks interesting questions about legacy and what star wars even is, and when it released if you even dared express this opinion on the wider internet people were ready to nuke you from orbit. and these people won, in the end! i saw the rise of skywalker exactly once, realised it had walked back everything interesting the last jedi had to say, and never engaged with it again. i feel like the same is happening with veilguard: the predominant narrative on the internet being that it has destroyed the franchise, the implication it is more stupid or less complex than its predecessors, the unwillingness to interact with it or give it the same grace that inquisition and the other games get after a decade of percolating in the fandom consciousness. r/dragonage is mostly negative; r/solasmancers is mostly negative; twitter/bluesky hounded john epler into deactivating his account for a day; every youtube that posts about it is inundated with right wing grifters and critics alike (not the same thing, i know!); even the dedicated veilguard subreddit is mostly people either criticising the game or apologising for liking it in the first place. i'm not saying criticism should stop: ongoing, constructive conversations like this one are how fandoms stay alive. but when the dominant discourse is constant criticism, when the general implication is that whoever likes veilguard is stupid or a corporate shill or up bioware's ass… it's hard.

and a brief addendum: my aim is not to tone police or tell folks they should not criticise veilguard or should not voice their disappointment. there are things in veilguard that have disappointed me too. i wanted solas' modern-day rebellion. i wanted more on the evanuris and the world before the veil so we could truly understand the depth of the moral dilemma at the heart of the veil. i think the game is poorer without these things. i've said often that veilguard's flaws are due to the writers correctly employing the rule that the best way to write about social issues is through characters and then sometimes forgetting the social issues at all. i still mourn the reactivity that we lost and the carryover from previous games; i recognise bioware has been plagued by mismanagement longer than i've been an adult.

these games will never be perfect. but when i write, when i make my own art and my own stories, it is so much healthier for me to do so in an environment where the relationship between artist/creative and art enjoyer is not endlessly antagonistic. why create at all, if people's first point of order is to assume the worst faith possible behind your own art?

FUCK ME. art really is subjective.

[vaguely-concerned]

the mourn watch background gives you such a GIFT in having other characters notice and call out on-screen that rook code switches like a motherfucker. the whiplash of hearing my snarky 'heeey I'm just a little guy! :>' funnyman rook speak the heightened ritualized phrases of the mourn watch with perfect seriousness and gravity completely naturally and/or break into an academic tone that can keep up with emmrich at the drop of a hat never stops giving me such endless delight. truly their real mind is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside some hideous mourn watch casual wear

[elany]

Yk what I want? I want a very early stages post canon labrumisu, but from Chilchuck's POV.

Imagine mister 'interparty romance is the devil' visiting court just to see these three circling each other like a pack of uniquely unhinged cats. And of course he sees it immediately, he's nothing if not perceptive and he's seen this happen so, so many times before. Kabru is hardly subtle in his fascination with Laios, who trusts him in turn more than nearly anybody else. He can see how close Mithrun and Kabru still are, even when there's little reason for the former captain to even stay in Melini. He can see where this is going. And he can see the disaster it's gonna end up in.

So he's just staring at them in horror, trying to figure out what in the world the dynamic here even is and glaring daggers at Kabru all the while for seemingly being the linchpin of this entire bullshit situation. King, his adviser and a fucking foreign noble?? Who thought THAT was a good idea! Is nobody else seeing this?? (no lol) Why is nobody objecting to this politically unsound love triangle that could literally ruin the kingdom they've only just established??

The anger! The distress! The despair when he first sees Laios getting all giddy when Mithrun so much as talks to him. Because hell, now he can't even blame the entire situation on one pretty boy insisting on having fingers in every possible pie, on political and personal level both!

And then they just. Quietly get together. All three of them. And Chil's just watching from the sidelines in complete bafflement because he's invented infinite worst case scenarios for how this will implode in all of their faces and destroy their friend group and topple the entire country and--

Instead they do. This. He'd be relieved if he wasn't so goddamn mad that he's spent months worrying about this shit just for them to resolve it in the least dramatic way possible.

Fuck this, he's taking a holiday.

[i-like-forcefem]

Being a Forcefem hacker really got so easy since July

Back in my day we had to take over their YouTube account, make it push femboy videos, push TG comics on their twitters, make them win Guilty Gear give always, put Blahaj’s in their carts when shopping for furniture, make up tutorials, cosplay guides, so so much effort for just one cute girl

Now all I do is take over the pc, put on “I watched the TV glow” and it does the rest

[wigglebox]

First Day 🌙☀️

[front-facing-pokemon]

[carlyraejepsans]

i don't think I've ever enjoyed a birthday party with friends as much as today i am genuinely getting a bit teary eyed