#I saw someone putting their thoughts of their art under the cut and I thought that was SO FUN . im doing it too

[strawberry-seal77]

pleaseee kitakawa plushies . I will be so responsible and cause zero property damage

Progress pics yayyy !!! Took about 2.5 hours, which is about my average for this kinda drawing. If I'd gone full in on the shading or done a background I think I'd have hit 3 hours or so like I usually do.

That first two-page spread helped IMMENSELY with figuring out uniform colors!! straight up saved me.

The positioning of the plushies DOES IN FACT have a meaning but tbh I've forgotten it over these fine 2.5 hours. Something to do with Hina taking control, and Airi leaning over to show she's sad. Her neck crunches a little weirdly but shhh shhh it's ok dont worry about it

The uniforms don't actually fit with that era but I think they're CUTE so they stay . >:3 muahaha

[averlym]

HI I DIDNT KNOW YOU WERE INTO ADAMANDI HOLY SHIT. Can’t believe so few people know about this masterpiece of a musical

:OOOOO hai i agree it is criminally (haha yknow bc there are crimes..) underrated!! and really brilliant!!! discovered it literally midway through the week and akdfjgsjhdsjhjgdf

have a doodle of the saints :3

[foldingfittedsheets]

A basic human skill that people usually lock down around the age of three or four is impulse control. To conceptualize an action and it’s consequences before taking it. Maybe considering how that action affects other people. We then refine it through most of our childhood.

When I was a teenager my hold on this ability became… tenuous. I became a volatile and dangerous creature.

It’s probably not unique to me, but I had a perfect storm in terms of mental upsets. I had just mastered enough basic social skills, so I finally had a strong group of friends when my dad suddenly needed to move for work. Ripped away from my support network, blooming with hormones, I was dragged to Arizona. I was always a child of forests and mist and suddenly everything was hot, dry, and extremely pointy and aggressive.

Additionally to being abruptly transplanted I found myself an object of affection in a way I’d never been before. Lonely and desperate to make friends the only people who wanted to spend time with me had romantic designs. I just wanted to figure out my shit but I had a baby lesbian flirting with increasing aggression in art, a soft boy making heart eyes at me in biology, a senior nerd asking if I wanted to play Halo at his house and could he hold my hand?

Reader, I snapped. I didn’t want this romantic attention but I also didn’t want to be alone. My brain coped the only way it knew how, by simply cutting out decision making. Any action was the right action to take.

It started with the boy in biology. I’d stolen his pencil out of mischief and to my overwhelming fury instead of trying to steal it back he just softened his eyes and chucked me gently under my chin, a gesture so overtly sweet and romantic that I saw red.

I stabbed him with his own pencil.

I honestly and truly have no memory of it. It happened as fast as a snake striking and I was instantly filled with terrified remorse. Unfortunately that manifested as psychotic giggling.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I don’t know why- I’m so sorry!” I said, while hysterically laughing. I ended up having lodged some graphite in his palm and had to tweeze it out with my nails while apologizing furiously. (It’s very important to note here that he forgave me and we’re still friends)

That was weird, I thought. Why didn’t I think before I stabbed someone?

The next event was equally catastrophic, and I had even less reason to do it. In gym with two girls I was tentatively befriending, we were warming up running laps. I started racing one of them. At breakneck speed we were sprinting around the gym.

This time, there was a blip of thought before I fucked up. I should get the other girl! I have no idea why or what the plan was but I turned on a swivel and body checked the other girl. We both fell down in immense pain. I think that’s the moment I broke my tailbone. Her knees were horribly bruised and she looked at me in bewildered pain. “Why did you do that?!”

I had no idea. I apologized and helped her up, both of us hobbling like newborn horses, bruised and hurting.

By this time there’d been enough social upheavals that I was reduced to spending time with some girls I had nothing in common with and low key disliked. Sat at a table listening to this girl talk about how she wanted to be a stripper when she grew up I thought, You’d better put the cap on before you throw it.

I then chucked my empty water bottle directly at her face. It bounced off her forehead with a bop! that would have made a sound mixer weep at its perfection.

All eyes turned to me is startlement. I stared back at her, stunned by my own action, just as confused as everyone else at the table as to why I’d done that. One of the girls to my right said, “Were you trying to hit that fly?”

“Yes!” I lied, “I’m sorry, I thought I could hit the fly!”

Everyone laughed at my antics and I joined in rather than admit I had just chucked something at her for no reason.

Things did start to improve after that. I solidified a friendship with the girl I’d raced (who I developed a massive crush on and ten years later would go on to date). My outbursts turned more whimsical rather than aggressive. Like accosting a girl leaving the cafeteria to look deeply into her eyes and say with great compassion, “It’s going to be alright.”

My new friend and I snuck into the van that delivered our cafeterias baked goods and lay giggling in the back. When I’d impulsively hopped in she’d joined me and made it a game.

After a year in Arizona I broke down crying to my mother, an act of great desperation, and we ended up moving back home. My impulse control returned to normal teenage levels and life resumed in a happier state of mind.

[ratedfleur]

i'm obsessed with scream rn and i'm thinking abt ghostface!wonyoung.. that woman is so—[gunshots]

I JUST NEED TO SCREAM RNNNNN!!!!! also i feel like this is messy so! and i added this post i saw on x which pretty much gave me an idea for this request soooo 😁

🔞 under the cut: bloody themes, ghostface, knives, blood.

okay so ghostface!wonyoung right? i just thought of her being a part of the photography club and she’d be the president because of her experience and portfolios. one thing about wonyoung and her works is that they were either gore themed or bloody.

her co-members praised her for her creative eye, always capturing her art in such a captivating way. the backdrop would be so simple and yet it would send a shiver up your spine once you saw her model. her models would be women and only women, her model would be unclothed as she lied on the floor, eyes all drained out with no signs of life with her body covered up in blood.

“oh no, it’s just that my models are just good at what they do.” wonyoung smiles when one of the members compliment her work, pointing out parts and bits that they liked meanwhile wonyoung simply listened and agreed.

“you need to send me at least one of their numbers, i need to shoot with them too.” sunghoon commented as he nudged wonyoung’s arm. the woman laughs as she shook her head, “they only work for me, oppa.” she chuckles.

you knew something was up, it was eerie how the ghostface reports would be put up in the newspapers right at the same time that wonyoung would send her portfolios in for approval.

nobody batted an eye, everyone had their own suspicions on who the ghostface was and their fingers would never point wonyoung.

deciding to follow wonyoung after she left the building, you trailed behind her merely a few steps away, close and yet far enough for wonyoung not to notice you. your strides become bigger as wonyoung picks up the pace as she crossed the street, head high as people looked her way.

feeling your phone buzz in your pocket, you take it out as you answered your phone, “hello? no, i’m home. i’m just busy with the club, i don’t have a portfolio for the month so i’ll call—“ you say before someone pulls your arm, pushing you into a dark alleyway. a hand quickly snatches your phone and slams it on the floor, making you gasp as you looked up and saw wonyoung standing in front of you, eyes staring right into your soul as she looked down on you.

"why the fuck are you following me around, ____?" wonyoung spat at you as she stared you down, eyes piercing and terrifying as you looked up at her with your own shaky ones. you blinked profusely as you tried to look for a way out, "i-i.." "you what, you little rat?" wonyoung spat once more.

seeing that you were unable to speak, wonyoung scoffs as she corners you into the wall, head still held up high as she looked down on you, “it’s because you’re jealous of me, huh? you want to be president of the club that’s why you’re trying to look for holes in my career.” wonyoung smiles sinisterly, orbs of brown shining with something else.

“it’s not like that—“ you say before she interrupts you once more, “then what the fuck is it, ____?” wonyoung replies as her face falls into a stoic expression.

“what? are you curious about how i work? is that how desperate you’ve become to try and beat me?” wonyoung exclaims, throwing her hands in the air like a maniac as she cackled— then her face falls flat, eyes no longer full of any life.

unable to respond, you watched as wonyoung silently turned around before she faced you. to your horror, thee ghostface was standing in front of you, “what if i tell you that all of those models were my victims?” the voice says— real voice hidden and morphed through the voice box in the mask.

“do you want to be next since you’re that curious?” ghostface says to you as she takes a knife out of her black coat, the knife shines under the white light in the alleyway, tip sharp enough to cut after one soft touch.

gulping a ball of saliva, you start to panic once wonyoung ghostface starts to walk over to you, knife facing you as she came close. you gasp when you feel it poking your shirt, close enough for you to feel it’s presence.

“stay silent about your little discovery and i’ll step down from president, take it for all i fucking care." ghostface says as she fiddles with the knife’s handle, making the tip nip a small cut on your shirt when she pushes it slightly. ghostface reaches up to push her mask up, revealing wonyoung’s face once more, “got it?” wonyoung says firmly as you nodded, eyes brimming with tears as her knifes digs past your shirt and into your skin, leaving a cut on your stomach.

“good.” wonyoung says as she stashes her knife back into her coat and her mask back into her bag, she steps away from you with her eyes full of fury and warning as she leaves you in the alley, knees all shaky before you fell to the ground, still in disbelief about what occurred.

[tossawary]

I still think that the ending of "Avatar: The Last Airbender" was poorly foreshadowed, specifically the lion turtles and the energy-bending. (Not Aang not killing Ozai! I like that part! It suits the themes, it suits the characters! That part is fine. I am glad that the last airbender found a way forward that respected his people and beliefs.)

Like, I saw ATLA when it was originally airing and I thought these things kind of "came out of nowhere" at the time. I have heard the arguments to the contrary over the years and I have never really been persuaded by them, while at the same time personally agreeing that the lion turtles and the energy-bending absolutely do fit the world and lore! They are fitting elements! They work! I like this ending at the same time that, in my personal opinion, I think it was poorly established.

I think that the story BEGINS to establish lion turtles and energy-bending well enough. We meet both many other spirit beings and bending-capable animals earlier on, including the Moon and Ocean Spirits who apparently gave the world water-bending. S2 introduces Ty Lee's chi-blocking techniques and Guru Pathik teaching Aang about chakras. There are also a handful of lion turtle easter eggs in the background of some episodes, the most prominent perhaps being on a scroll in Wan Shi Tong's library.

But the story then jumps from these various establishing elements all the way to "lion turtles are real and not extinct and telepathic and can also energy-bend and Aang has suddenly mastered this new art well enough to take someone else's bending away permanently, and these relatively new elements are going to resolve the main conflict of the show". It feels like "1+1=3" to me. I think that last jump in the story is too big. Like, we're REALLY close, but I personally needed another 1 in there somewhere to bridge that final gap and get to that 3.

(Includes some fic ideas / suggestions on how to maybe add to strengthen the foreshadowing under the cut.)

The fact that a lot of people, especially more casual viewers, were really confused by the way all of these elements suddenly came together at the end says to me that, no, the foreshadowing that WAS done (there WAS foreshadowing, I cannot rightfully say that it all came completely out of "nowhere", but it) was not good enough. Or maybe I should compare it to someone presenting me with all of the necessary ingredients for a cake and then telling me that it IS cake? Yes, all of the right ingredients are HERE, I agree, this COULD be a really great cake, but... you still have to mix it all together in a bowl and then put it in the oven to bake to get that specific cake. It's not quite cooked yet.

(Okay, wow, that sounds kind of mean. Maybe I should compare it more to a missing stair? We have MOST of the staircase, I just need one last step to get to the Deus Ex Machina at the top. To be clear: I don't think a "Deus Ex Machina" is inherently bad. I often like them a lot. I just wanted a little more foreshadowing than the stuff that is already there.)

In storytelling, there's this technique casually called "The Rule of Three". (And yes, of course, rules were made to be bent or broken depending on what story you're trying to tell, but usually, these rules exist because they are effective.) This rule is also sometimes known as "Introduction, Pattern, and Payoff". (It has other names, but that's how I remember it.)

Very loosely, this rule states that an important element of the story must appear at least three times. 1. It must be introduced / established in the world. 2. It must appear again to remind the audience that it exists / and establish a pattern such that the audience begins to expect it to appear again later. (And is hopefully excited for it.) 3. Payoff. The element returns in an important way, probably to resolve part of the plot. The previous two appearances have acted as foreshadowing for this ending.

There's also a "Rule of Two" version of this general storytelling technique. Like, "If this special crystal can zap the bad guy and save the day, we have to have shown or at least told the audience that it can do that BEFORE the big final fight scene."

In regards to ATLA, no, I don't think that a scroll in a library or a statue in the background of some scene served as adequate introduction and reminder for the existence of lion turtles, so it didn't necessarily feel like a payoff for me that they solved the main conflict. (It's the "solved the main conflict" that's most of the issue for me. If the lion turtles had just appeared in another episode as a random cool thing like those sea monsters by Kyoshi Island, I would not have cared.)

I actually think that the establishment of other spirits like the Moon Spirit and bending-capable animals like sky bison and dragons can serve as a decent enough "Step 1) Introduction". Though this does not establish that lion turtles specifically exist, we have established that powerful creatures similar to lion turtles exist. But I still needed a solid "Step 2) Pattern / Reminder" that would have established that lion turtles specifically exist and are important BEFORE one shows up at the end like that.

I think that there's at least one episode somewhere in Book 1 or Book 2 that could have been cut in favor of an episode where the Gaang meets and rescues a young lion turtle baby or something.

Maybe Guru Pathik could have learned his ways FROM a lion turtle? Aang could have gone to an isolated village somewhere (with more brown people besides just Guru Pathik?) where people are living in harmony with a lion turtle, or maybe even on the back of a lion turtle! That would be cool!

Concept: Aang encounters Guru Pathik living alone on the back of a lion turtle which doesn't talk to people anymore (Aang swims down to look at its face and it doesn't even look at him), because its kind have been hunted nearly to extinction and it's tired of violence. Guru Pathik learned his ways from his old teacher, who learned from his old teacher, all the way up the teaching lineage from a person who once learned from the lion turtle itself before it gave up on the world. Guru Pathik tends to this nearly empty temple on the back of a silent lion turtle who ignores him, because he will not forsake his teachings even when the world seems uninterested in hearing them and the old lion turtle seems like it could die any day now. The people in the fishing village on the shore think that Guru Pathik is crazy and most of them don't even believe that the floating island really is a lion turtle, it's just weird geography.

Guru Pathik could also have chi-blocking abilities! We could see him demonstrate them in self-defense! He could teach a few chi-blocking moves to Aang, who could later go on to use them occasionally in Book 3, and it would have been really cool to see Aang exploring non-bending skills. We don't need Guru Pathik to explicitly name energy-bending here, but I would like to connect him just a touch more strongly to chi-blocking. Like, he IS connected already by helping Aang clear chakras, which is kind of like a reverse of chi-blocking, but it would be nice to establish Guru Pathik as somewhat capable of the opposite but perhaps not liking to use the skill.

Aang really vibes with this dying culture of pacifists, but he still has to leave Guru Pathik before he can finish the training. Later on, he can encounter Guru Pathik and the silent lion turtle again, and he can confess to them how desperately he doesn't want to have to kill anyone, no matter what his past lives say. He just wants to STOP the violence and restore balance to the world without sacrificing himself. And THEN the lion turtle could wake up and gift him with energy-bending.

Or something like that! The foreshadowing doesn't have to be THAT heavy-handed, but SOME brief appearance by an actual lion turtle would have served as a better "Step 2) Pattern" to me.

Things like chi-blocking, chakras, water-bending healing, water-benders losing their bending when the Moon Spirit was killed, and even Zuko's spiritual turmoil serve as a good "Step 1) Introduction" to the concept of energy-bending to me. The ingredients are THERE. But again, I would have liked some clearer "Step 2) Pattern" that had actually baked the cake in regards to this being a skill Aang had specifically.

The above episode concept with Guru Pathik on the back of a lion turtle could have worked as a "Step 2) Pattern / Reminder" for energy-bending.

ANOTHER option would be to have Aang temporarily lose his bending at the beginning of Book 3, after Katara resurrects him with that special spirit water after Azula killed him at the end of Book 2.

I think Aang losing his bending for at least 3-4 episodes would have been really good for him / the show. So much of Aang's identity is tied up at this point in being the Avatar and the responsibilities of being the Avatar. Losing his bending, especially his AIR-BENDING, and his connection to the spirit world and his past lives would send him into a personal crisis. The Gaang could worry over whether or not a new Avatar has somehow been born or if the Avatar powers are gone forever. The characters could confront the fact that perhaps they've been relying too much on Aang as the Avatar and what they'll do now without the Avatar.

Also, it would be really funny if Aang woke up and picked up his glider to jump off that boat, then just fell into the ocean, and Katara needed to fish him out. (Which would then transition into the dramatic revelation that he has lost his bending!!!)

Katara could use her healing abilities to tell Aang that what's happened to him feels a lot like Ty Lee's chi-blocking. Katara would then probably try to emphasize with Aang, who gets angry with her and says she has no idea what this feels like! Katara could then have a really good intimate scene with Aang over how scary it was when the Moon Spirit was killed, what it physically felt like to lose that spiritual connection, and how scared she was even afterwards about what it would have been like to permanently lose that connection to her people and her culture. Aang then apologizes to Katara and they resolve to find his bending again.

Aang then goes on some spiritual journey with his friends to reconnect with his bending and his past lives as the Avatar. Probably some partially internal spiritual journey with Guru Pathik's teachings. Katara and Toph could both talk about what bending means to them personally as different people, and also what it feels like to them as they interact with the elements of the world around them.

Aang could have some cool fight scenes where he dodges some random thugs using all of his bending skills (martial arts) without the actual bending, air-bending techniques, water-bending techniques, and earth-bending techniques, and then finally some chi-blocking techniques that Guru Pathik showed him. There could be some scene where Aang saves a kid from these random thugs and realizes that he can still do good in the world even if he's not the Avatar! Even if he's not a bender anymore!

There could also be some REALLY funny scenes of Aang trying to get Appa and Momo to teach him how to reconnect with his air-bending. Aang mimicking their movements and so on. (Sokka: "Is that... working so far, buddy?" Aang: "NO! They're terrible teachers!!!" Cue sad Appa bleating and offended Momo chittering.)

You could even do it in a cycle of sorts, where Aang reconnects with his air-bending first using Guru Pathik's teachings and his friends' help. (He is OVERJOYED.) And then Aang slowly regains water-bending and earth-bending over the next few episodes, culminating in him having to face his fears learning fire-bending again. I think you could accomplish this storyline by squeezing it into about 3-4 episodes, or else starting off with losing then regaining air-bending plus the Avatar state in the first 2 episodes of the season and then threading relearning the other elements in the background through later episodes.

ANOTHER option where Aang temporarily loses his bending is after the eclipse, because he has a spiritual crisis over the fact that he was resolved to kill someone and he really doesn't want to do that. I don't like this option so much because it feels a little too late in the season compared to kicking off Book 3 with the drama of Aang losing his bending(!!!), but it's an option.

See, if Aang temporarily loses his bending and has to find it again somehow, then the show could establish what this kind "energy-bending" and spiritual manipulation within a person looks like. If Aang has had to get his bending BACK, then it would better establish Aang then using this ability he has now practiced on himself to take bending away from another person. It's a pleasantly surprising twist that Aang figures out how to reverse a previously established energy-bending technique and successfully uses it against Ozai.

And then the ending, though arguably still in the realm of a Deus Ex Machina (which is cool), would feel more like "Step 3) Payoff" instead of "What just happened?" We needed to see more obviously that Aang was capable of ANY kind of energy-bending before it saved the day like that.

Anyway! This post became way longer than originally intended! I hope this has made it clear that I like both the lion turtles and energy-bending as concepts. I think there are many elements in the show that begin to introduce lion turtles and energy-bending as Aang uses it as things that COULD exist. I just think that the show needed some kind of additional baking step in the middle to establish a pattern and use those ingredients to foreshadow that specific "an ancient lion turtle teaches Aang energy-bending and Aang then uses it against someone else" ending.

[aneveningsword]

Hi! Tw: sh. Would you be willing to write a Jordan li x fem reader one shot where they bicker a lot (maybe like academic rivals or something) but then Jordan some how finds out that reader self harms (maybe like sees some cuts when a sleeve moves or something if they’re sparring or during class?) and so they put their bickering and rivalry aside to make sure that she gets help? If not no worries but I thought I’d ask/put it out into the universe

Hi anon! Thank you so much for the request, I'm so excited to fulfil it. I hope it's up to standard and what you are looking for

pairing: Jordan Li x fem!reader warnings: not proofread, mentions of self-harm words: 909 summary: basically the ask

masterlist

It was well known within Goldukin that the two biggest rivals were you and Jordan Li. You two had been neck and neck from the beginning, always switching places in the ranking, always trying to one-up another in classes. It was getting exhausting just watching you two go back and forth trying to outsmart the other while half the people around you had no clue what you were talking about.

Jordan was always one to bicker, correcting you with that stupid smug grin, showing off their test scores with a mocking pout. It was infuriating, but just as much as they annoyed you, you annoyed them. How you seemed to effortlessly know everything, how you had such control of your powers, how you so easily gave their snarky words right back at them. You took up so much space in their mind that the only way not to admit it was love was to believe it was hate.

Hate because you were seemingly everything they were not. You were so put together, you had it all brains and beauty. Only a fool would not be jealous of you, and Jordan Li was no fool. In their mind, they believed that you too hated them, for being such a large obstacle on your path to the top. But even someone so smart could be so wrong.

It was hard trying to be the best, to get perfect scores, to have such control over your powers, to be liked by so many. It consumed every moment, not even in sleep could you escape the stress. Your body began to feel it, losing hair, bags under your eyes, losing sleep. It made you feel horrible, a shell of yourself, an imposter parading around people much better than you. There was no time to rest, no time for a moment to consider your mental health, not when a single mishap could spell you losing it all.

Despite the stress of your life, the stress Jordan added to it unknowingly. You held deep feelings for them, feelings you did not want to classify as love, so instead you believed it to be disdain. There was no room in your life for love, for friends, for parties, for every waking moment was spent obsessing about your scores.

You can’t remember when it started, perhaps by accident, perhaps on purpose in a desperate attempt to find a release. But you remember when you couldn’t stop, not when it allowed the stress and heartache to leave you for a moment. It was like a drug, consuming your mind and body, a compulsion to do it, to harm yourself. It was a disease that you didn’t have a cure for.

Hiding this was something you had to fine art, you hand various jackets, gloves, long sleeve shirts to wear. No one bated the eyes at what you wore, why would they? It was all perfectly normal, there was no reason to think you were hiding the thing you were most ashamed of under a thin piece of cloth. 

It was by complete accident that Jordan saw the scars, the movement of your hand reaching up to grab something exposing them just enough for them to figure out what they were. For a moment they did not wish to believe it, that someone so put together like you was secretly falling apart. That the scars they saw weren’t from a cat or botched training session. But instead done purposely by your hand, that you would subject yourself to that pain. Was it because you believed you deserved it? Was it a release of sorts? A way to escape the pressure?

Their hand was so gentle as it grasped your wrist, eyes big and full of worry as your own met theirs. Just as confusion was clear on your face, sorrow was clear on theirs. You racked your brain trying to figure out what may cause this large shift in Jordan, no longer bickering or scoffing at you but instead looking at you like you had destroyed a beautiful artwork. In a small way you did, for to them, you were the closest thing they had come to an angle. They believed you were untouchable, above it all. But even angels fall sometimes.

There was a long moment of pause as Jordan struggled to find the right words to say, and how to approach the topic. Yet, there was only one question they could think of asking. “Why? Why would you do this to yourself?” Their voice was soft, body close to yours as their hand still delicately held your wrist. For a moment you are confused by the question before you pale and a sense of dread fills you. You could deny it, swear up and down that they are mistaken. But what was the point? The evidence was there and Jordan knew.

“I-I…” Your voice turns watery as you think of an answer, just something to say in your defence. But tears spring to your eyes, yet to fall and trail down your cheeks. A small ‘tsk’ leaves Jordan as they pull you into an embrace. Your hands grip their clothing as though they would disappear and Jordan wonders how long this has been going on, how long you have felt this way. But they know now and come hell or high water they would help you.

“It’s okay, we’ll get you some help. I’m not going anywhere.”

[acetone4veins]

Quotes + Mean Girls

associating angsty quotes (and some fluffy ones) to mean girls characters and dynamics, this is definitely longer than it should be and will probably be part 1 of many but anyways. lmk which were your favorites and which ones ruined you :) also shoutout to the cautionary tale discord who saw some of these already and ramble about these characters with me <3

posting under the cut so i don't clog anyone's feeds

Regina

"what a terrible thing to wound someone you really care for - and to do it so unconsciously."

Haruki Murakami

"and when nobody wakes you up in the morning, and when nobody waits for you at night, and when you can do whatever you want. what do you call it, freedom or loneliness?"

Charles Bukowski

"i am changing. i am trying to be better. it is slow; it is rough; it is repetitive, but i swear i am."

Abdulsamad S. M.

"i did not like to be touched, but it was a strange dislike. i did not like to be touched because i craved it too much. i wanted to be held very tight so i would not break."

Marya Hornbacher

"i was not a loveable child, and i'd grown into a deeply unlovable adult. draw a picture of my soul, and it'd be a scribble with fangs."

Gillian Flynn

"if only my heart were as cold as i pretend it is, maybe i could get over this."

Jessica Katoff

"i wasn't beautiful anymore. now i looked like what i was, a raw wound."

Janet Fitch

"i'm restless and harsh and despairing. although i do have love inside me. i just don't know how to use love. sometimes it tears at my flesh, like barbs."

Clarice Lispector

"i did not mean to be cruel. i swear i am good, i am good, i am kind. i have love inside me. some place far far away."

unknown

Cady

"how much can you change and get away with it, before you turn into someone else, before its some kind of murder?"

Richard Siken

"your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing."

Dyodor Dosteovsky

"what and how much had i lost by trying to do only what was expected of me instead of what i myself wished to do?"

Ralph Ellison

"my god, my god, whose performance am i watching? how many people am i? who am i? what is this space between myself and myself?"

Fernando Pessoa

"it was good for a while, being empty. i didn't hurt anymore. but as time went on, it was like i could hear myself from far away, begging for permission to come back."

Myra McEntire

"is it better to out-monster the monster or to be quietly devoured?"

Friedrich Nietzsche

"who's the real you? the person who did something awful, or the one who's horrified by the awful thing you did? is one part of you allowed to forgive the other?"

Rebecca Stead

"you're a mess of good intentions gone wrong. you strike a match on yourself to keep others warm, and now the whole goddamn world's on fire. you try to put it out, and you try so hard. the dam breaks, and the waters of your sorrow pour free. you are sorry; so very, very sorrow - and you will drown everyone to prove it."

unknown

Janis

"there are times when i am convinced i am unfit for any human relationship."

Franz Kafka

"i am eternally, devastatingly romantic, and i thought people would see it because 'romantic' doesn't mean 'sugary'. it's dark and tormented - the furor of passion, the despair of an idealism that you cannot attain."

Catherine Breillat

"but whatever came, she had resolved never again to belong to another than herself."

Kate Chopin

"there were two reasons i was scared to let people in; the damage they could do, and the damage they could find."

Chris McGeown

"perhaps its good for one to suffer. can an artist do anything if he's happy? would he ever want to do anything? what is art, after all, but a protest against the horrible inclemency of life?"

Aldous Huxley

Gretchen

"i want so obviously, so desperately to be loved, and to be capable of love."

Sylvia Plath

"she wanted to say 'don't leave me', but she couldn't do it, not again. she was so tired of begging people to love her."

Kristin Hannah

"he is charmingly telling me how much he does not love me...and i, - listening to him carefully, - am approving it."

Marina Tsvetaeva

"she's gonna forever say 'i got this' even with tears in her eyes."

unknown

"still there is this terrible desire to be loved. still, there is this horror at being left behind."

Michael Cunningham

"can you understand me? someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little?"

Sylvia Plath

"i am trying to make myself digestible. i am trying to make myself easy to love."

I.B. Vyache

"do you think it is possible that some people are born to give more love than they will ever get back in return?"

Tyler Knott Gregson

Karen

"the sensitive suffer more; but they love more, and dream more."

Augusto Cury

"a lot of people tell me i'm a bit dreamy. but i like the idea of that. of being somewhere else."

Alam

"you cannot make everyone think and feel as deeply as you do. this is your tragedy, because you understand them but they do not understand you."

Daniel Saint

Regina and Janis

"the bear loved the deer, it was obvious. it ripped the deer's throat out, and then licked the dying deer with the most passionate affection. i thought of you and me."

David Cronenberg

"can you hate someone for what they have done, but still love them for whom they had been?"

Jodi Picoult

"love isn't soft, like those poets say. love has teeth which bite and the wounds never close."

Stephen King

"i love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul."

Pablo Neruda

"they will hook me up to a polygraph and ask me if i love you and i will say no but the needle will jump and sputter exactly how you laugh."

unknown

"there's a sickening feeling of familiarity, when the wrong person knows you too well and you know them too well. and they weren't always the wrong person."

unknown

"we don't mean to hurt each other, but we do. and perhaps no matter how right we are for each other, we'll always be a little wrong."

Beau Taplin

Regina and Cady

"i am intense darkness and you are a golden sunrise."

Arijit Singh and Pritam

"even before you touched me, i belonged to you; all you had to do was look at me."

unknown

"whether you come as a lover or an executioner, i am ready to receive you."

Agustin Gomez-Arcos

"for the longest time, i saw myself as a bad person. you don't know how much it meant to me when you looked at me and could see the good."

unknown

"but i have seen the best of you and the worst of you, and i choose both."

Sarah Kay

"i promised myself i would never fall in love with you. but it was 4 am, and we were laughing way too hard, and i felt happy for the first time in a long time, and i knew i was screwed."

unknown

Gretchen and Karen

"i would rather be with you - even the you that you seem to think is diminished - than with anyone else in the world."

Jojo Moyes

"it hurts, he realizes, to love someone who can't love themselves. like watching a work of art set itself on fire."

unknown

"how amazing it is to find someone who wants to hear about all the things that go on in your head."

Nina LaCour

"come love, make me better than i was. come teach me a kinder way to say my own name."

Andrea Gibson

"i wanted you to see a mess and still find me worthy of love, to tell me that you could still love me anyway."

Georges Bataille

"sometimes, love is as simple as watching the moon and sometimes its as difficult as counting the stars. but i love doing both for you."

unknown

Janis and Damian

"you may be born into a family, but you walk into friendships. some you'll discover you should put behind you. others are worth every risk."

Adam Silvera

Regina and Gretchen

"but i am very homesick for arms that have never held me."

unknown

"i burned so long so quiet you must have wondered if i loved you back. i did, i did, i do."

Annelyse Gelman

"so i wait for you like a lonely house till you will see me again and live in me. till then my windows ache."

Pablo Neruda

"how do you tell someone that the reason you're sad is because you love them?"

unknown

[serpentinesketches]

More for my GO Gladiator AU! I started thinking up what I wanted their first meeting to look like, and this scene popped into my head. I imagine the vibes here are much like the drunk "Dolphins!" conversation in S1 canon (you know the one). Very silly and good bonding time for these two :D

I'm not fully done writing it, but here's a snippit of their first meeting scene under the cut to accompany this art:

---

The woman drags Aziraphale by the hand off into one of the side-rooms, pushes him down onto a small chair, and puts a knee up on the large, circular bed that is the main centerpiece of the room. She fixes him with the same amused look as before as she fiddles with the serpent clasp on her left shoulder, “So, tell me, what is it you really want? You have something specific in mind, I can tell.”

Aziraphale clears his throat, suddenly realizing they were very much not on the same page, “Ah, apologies my dear, I believe you’ve misread my apprehension earlier. I actually, um… Don’t? Want to sleep with you, that is.”

“… Eh?” The woman had seemed ready to accept most feasible answers to her question. This answer was not on the list.

“It’s just…” Aziraphale sighs, a fullbody thing, “It’s dreadfully boring, mingling around, talking about conquests and the like. And I’d much rather curl up with a good book. But I’m not allowed to just leave, there’d be… consequences.” Aziraphale shudders, involuntary, “That lot does not just send rude notes.”

Aziraphale shakes himself and blazes on, “I’ll compensate you handily though! Enough you shouldn’t have to work again tonight,” he pulls out his wallet, “assuming I remember the going rates for these things well enough…” he mumbles the last bit, more to himself.

He extends his hand with the money, offering it up, “All I ask is you stay in this room with me for a couple hours, and if anyone asks, we had a lovely time.”

“… Uh-huh.”

“I’m sure you could use the break, either way.” Aziraphale continues, to fill the silence, “I’ve never met someone of your profession who is not dreadfully overworked.”

Taking the money, she seems to catch up to reality and cracks a smile, “Well, yeah - you won’t hear me complaining!” She flops down on the plush circular mattress, melting into it. He hadn’t realized how precisely she had been holding herself until she finally actually relaxed.

“It’s kinda funny, I thought you’d have no interest in sleeping around when I first saw you. Good to know my instincts aren’t waning on me.” She winks at him - seems flirting is just a default for her, no matter the circumstances.

“Yes well.” Aziraphale wrings his hands, “I know it’s odd of me, but I simply have no interest in sleeping with people I hardly know”

“Certainly unusual, but not bad.” Her head tilts side-to-side as she considers this. She looks down, pauses for a beat.

“Well. Let’s get to know each other then – the name’s Crowley,” she leans up, extending a hand.

“That’s an odd name for a—Wait, no, you don’t have to-“ Aziraphale stutters, several thoughts getting caught in his throat while he attempts to voice them all at once.

Crowley laughs, but not a cruel laugh, more endeared than anything by Aziraphale’s stumbling. “I know, I know, I’m not trying to get in your pants. I just don’t want to wait here in silence, and you seem interesting.”

“Ah, well then,” Aziraphale takes her hand in his, ever so gentle. “It’s a pleasure. I’m Aziraphale.”

“Oh wow, really?” Aziraphale nods, sheepish. “Huh! Never figured I’d get to fake-bed someone of your renown – that’ll be a feather in my cap for sure.” Crowley continues, undeterred.

“Mmm, glad my ‘renown’ will be helpful to one of us” Aziraphale snarks, annoyance seeping through his normally reserved exterior. Crowley looks taken aback at his admission, but not wholly surprised.

There’s a moment of quiet, and Aziraphale remembers his other train of thought, “Oh! If I may, I don’t mean to be rude, but your name - it’s not usually a name for a lady…”

“Ah, clever man!” Crowley waggles his finger at him, “that’d be because I’m not one.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I should’ve asked- I just assumed-“

“Don’t worry about it, seriously.” Crowley interrupts before Aziraphale can apologize himself into a tizzy, “people assume, and I play into it intentionally.”

“Plus, I mean, it’s all made up anyway, the way I see it. Woman, man, whatever else, who cares. We’re all just human at the end of the day.”

---

If you've read to this point I appreciate you very much, I hope you liked my nonsense! Have a virtual cookie! <3 🍪

[cosmic-seer]

I saw your terastilized juliana art and it reminded me of a moment in the dlc. When you approach the elevator, your asked if you've gone down it before. Answering 'i dont know' makes Briar say "Oh? Did you already forget what happened last time you were here? Perhaps this is a side effect of prolonged exposure to Area Zero..." Which just, gives so many ideas to ways being down in area zero for too long could mess someone up

God, okay, man-

That was where I was coming from with it, though my interpretation is pretty sure that the response comes from being uncomfy about Briar’s intentions, which, thoughts about Briar aside (and I have a l o t to say), my inspiration from it actually came from seeing the crystallized tree you find in the Underdepths. (Which reminds me a lot of Xerneas which, yknow, the theories about Paldea and Kalos being connected and the crater a result of it have some ground here I would think.)

I did have a mini uh au/worldbuild about it that I’m mentally fleshing out.

Putting stuff under the cut —

Originally it was inspired from the fact that AI Sada and Tulo both terastalize as a failsafe result of the programming and also just from overuse of the time machine harvesting terastal energy.

My idea was that the Paldaen Squad all got ‘terastal scarring’ as a result of this; it affected EVERYONE, but MC (Juliana) gets the worst of it from directly taking the burden of battling AI Sada/Tulo.

For the most part, cos they all left immediately afterward, they were pretty okay from it and it didn’t have too many adverse effects.

So it isn’t until MC agrees to go down to the depths the second time around that the consequences start really taking effect due to the energy being more pure and potent than from the caves above. And the deeper they go the worse it gets and then I haven’t quite yet worked out the rest, but I am thinking extremely heavily about the emotional ramifications regarding the ‘Dons and how it affects everyone else (including Kieran). The image of a Titan Terastal Koraidon trying to defend MC (Juliana) currently lives rent free in my brain. And maybe there’s a way Terapagos can be helpful rather than being misused.

When I work it out, I’ll make a post and draw stuff about it (probably) but yeah.

[charmandabear]

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Leather and Lace

Summary

Lady Estelle wasn't expecting to fall for her tailor, of all people. But with everything under her control during the day, she's more than content to cede control to him at night.

Pairing: Astarion/F!OC Rating: E Word Count: 5.7k Tags/Warnings: unprotected sex, orgasm denial, safeword discussion, light bondage, d/s dynamic, p in v sex, vampire sex, biting, vampire bites, blood drinking, sexual tension, casual classism, AU, (sorta, you can make an argument), praise kink

Read on AO3

Something in me turned feral when I saw Hamrikaa's tailor!Astarion art and I needed to get this out of my system. It doesn't help that I work with costumes irl and I suddenly got a lot of opinions about Astarion and sewing.

I have more thoughts on this relationship, particularly with the class difference and power dynamics. I also really want a story with a plus size protag since I'm really tired of feeling like the implication is that all Tavs/OCs are the type 1 body. So let me know if that's something that appeals to you, or if you're interested in a longer version with more than just sexual tension and smut, lol.

Fucking Arfur.

It’s sundown on a Saturday and Lady Estelle Rosewinter is traipsing through the Lower City looking for a tailor. Arfur Gregorio had shown up to her masquerade several hours early already intoxicated. While trying to shoo him off the grounds, he had stepped on her gown, ripping the seam of the thigh high slit to a nearly obscene height. Now, as guests are beginning to arrive, she isn’t there to greet them and is rather passing shop after shop putting up their closing signs. 

She could have just chosen a different gown as her handmaiden Celia had suggested, except that it took her so long to get into the damn thing. She thought that getting it fixed would take but a minute. It did not occur to her that, given the hour, finding an available tailor would prove so difficult.

Estelle is about to give up when she sees a dim little shop out of the corner of her eye. It’s not on the main drag, but rather up a quiet alleyway. But there’s no mistaking the sign.

Threads of Starlight

The door to the shop is clearly open, so she rushes in, desperate to speak with the proprietor.

“My apologies, I know you’re probably about to close, but I have an emergency, and I promise that I’ll pay handsomely for the inconvenience–” she cuts herself off as the tailor walks out from the back. He’s so much more attractive than she would’ve expected from someone of his station. His clothes are humble but understandably incredibly well-fitting, his trousers gently hugging his lean legs and the sleeves of his light linen top rolled up above his elbows, revealing pale, slender forearms. His silvery hair looks windswept and effortless, although Estelle knows it takes a practiced hand to get one’s hair just right like that. There’s a measuring tape slung around his neck and he looks briefly startled by her appearance before a practiced charm takes over.

“No need for apologies, Lady…” he leaves a gap in his speech for her to tell him her name. His voice is melodic.

“Estelle. Lady Estelle.” She tries to match his honeyed tone but her mouth has suddenly gone dry. He takes her hand and gently presses his lips to her knuckles.

“Lady Estelle. The pleasure is all mine,” he coos and a shiver goes up her spine. What on earth would a tailor need with this much charisma? Without letting go of her hand, he gracefully leads her up onto the fitting stand in the middle of the shop. She has danced with the finest nobility in Baldur’s Gate, and none of them were even half this elegant.

“Now please, tell me what I can do for you. I hope there’s nothing wrong with this beautiful gown of yours. Is it one of Galwen’s?” The way he looks at her makes her feel exposed, almost naked, despite the conversation literally being about her clothes. She clears her throat in an attempt to regain some composure.

“Yes, I’ve been going to her for years, but she’s tragically unavailable this evening.” Not that Estelle didn’t try. She sent three messengers and finally went to Galwen’s door herself, but she refused to open back up. Pity, since it looks like she’s lost Estelle’s business for good, especially if this one turns out to be as good as he looks. And gods does he look good.

“All the more fortunate for me that I stay open late,” he says in a low tone, and gooseflesh breaks out over Estelle’s arms. “Now, tell me darling,” he coughs at letting the casual pet name slip out, “pardon me, my Lady, how can I be your gown’s savior this evening?” Estelle hadn’t heard the rest of his sentence because her ears started ringing at the “darling.” Normally she would not take too kindly to someone in the working class speaking so informally to her. She’s beginning to feel lightheaded. Has she been hexed? Does this happen to any who cross his threshold?

“It’s torn,” she says in an uncharacteristically small voice. “Right here.” She lifts her skirt at the thigh slit, threads popping out of the seam. In an instant the tailor is on one knee, examining it closely. With him suddenly this close, all of her symptoms dissipate and are replaced by just one: desire.

She tries to shake herself out of it. Not only would anything of the sort be wildly inappropriate - given her status in Baldur’s Gate, an affair with a lowly tailor would be splashed all over Baldur’s Mouth within hours - this man is a consummate professional, and she’s certain that he would never return her affections. He must look beneath dozens of hems a day, this is nothing out of the ordinary for him. 

He touches the fabric as he studies it, cool fingers lightly grazing Estelle’s skin. She gasps at the sensation, and he looks up at her sheepishly.

“I’m terribly sorry, I have poor circulation. My touch is always something nasty, I’m afraid.” Estelle shakes her head and finds anywhere to look but into those piercing red eyes. 

“It’s fine, really. I have an important evening planned, so I’m a bit jumpy,” she lies through her teeth. He steps away to pick up a needle and thread from behind the counter. While his back is turned, Estelle takes the time alone to wipe sweat off her brow. This man is making her burn up inside and out.

“Oh really?” he sings as he’s back down on his knees, dangerously close to her upper thigh once again. “And pray forgive me, but I must reach up slightly in order to make this repair, if that’s alright. I promise, I’ll be the picture of a gentleman.” He looks up at her, waiting for her consent before touching her further. Estelle, worried what might come out if she opened her mouth, just nods. 

He slides his hand between the fabric and her leg, pulling it out slightly so he can tuck his needle into the underside of the seam. Estelle bites down on her tongue to keep from moaning. She knows that she’s touch-starved, it’s been far too long since anyone has warmed her bedsheets. Between running a household, meeting with politicians and nobility alike, and her position in the Baldur’s Gate arts council, she hardly has the time. But this is ridiculous. A gentle caress from a man should not elicit this much heat between her thighs, and yet here she is, keeping them pressed together tight, the slight pressure her only relief. 

His fingers move deftly, pulling the needle through the fabric with ease. He’s focusing on his work so intently, and Estelle watches him almost like he’s a dream. He begins tying off the thread, and before he’s complete, his eyes flick upward to meet Estelle’s.

“All finis-” he begins, but Estelle is so startled by the intensity of his gaze that she jumps, causing him to prick his finger with the needle. A tiny droplet of blood lands on the pale pink silk. The tailor jumps back, horrified, and immediately starts apologizing profusely.

“Oh gods, Lady Estelle, I’m so terribly sorry, look at what a clumsy little fool I am, gods on such a beautiful dress, too,” his words tumble out of him, all composure that was once there, now gone. She’s finding this flustered side of him possibly even more appealing than the cool and collected version. Her lady-of-the-house instincts kick in, and she addresses him like a new maid who has accidentally broken china while transporting it to the kitchen. 

“Darling,” she breathes and lifts his chin with a finger. She can finally look into those crimson eyes, feeling herself regain the poise she’s accustomed to. “It’s nothing to worry about. Just a speck.” She swears she can hear his breath catch, but maybe it’s just wishful thinking because he recovers quickly.

“Perhaps, but I still feel terrible. This mend is on the house, as well as any alteration you might need done on another garment. And, ah. How to say this.” He looks flushed again, despite the paleness of his skin. “There is a foolproof way of getting one’s blood out of fabric, but it’s not the most, er, refined shall I say.” This piques Estelle’s intrigue.

“Really? And what way is that?”

The tailor shifts nervously, and she positively relishes in the trade in demeanors. 

“This only works if it’s the one the blood belongs to, but if you can catch it straight away, then, erm, saliva will do the trick,” he says with a chagrined smile. Whatever Estelle was expecting, this is not it. 

“Oh,” she responds, and suddenly she’s back to that lightheaded feeling. What is he proposing exactly? Whatever it may be, she’s certain it will involve his mouth in some way and she’s not sure how she’ll handle that.

“The next five alterations are free, I’m so very sorry, this is very uncommon while working on a garment. At least, I’m usually better at catching myself,” he adds with embarrassment. 

“Uh, yes, whatever- whatever needs to be done. Thank you.” She peers down at him, willing herself to find somewhere else to look but unable to tear her eyes away. He pops a thin, pale finger in his mouth and swirls his tongue around it. She swallows loudly as he takes his finger out and dabs it on the slit of her dress, still achingly close to her thigh. He rubs at the spot, but evidently it’s not enough, because he then brings his lips to her dress and lightly rubs his tongue on the silk. 

“Oh gods,” she can’t keep this moan from escaping her lips. If he can hear her, he doesn’t respond, blessedly. He pulls away from her, silver hair ever so slightly disheveled, and rubs at the spot with a handkerchief to dry it.

“Apologies again, my Lady,” he says with a frown, examining the spot for any remaining blood. Then he stands and they’re face to face, the few inches of pedestal putting their eyes at the same height. “I hope this doesn’t make you think any less of my skills as a tailor.” She briefly wonders what other skills he might possess before banishing the thought from her head. 

“Not at all, er,” she falters, realizing she never asked his name, which is unlike her, she usually tries to learn the names of all of the people she contracts to work for her.

“Astarion,” he says with a bow.

“Astarion, yes,” she repeats breathlessly. “Well, Astarion, you came to my aid in a time of desperation, and I suppose there was a blood price to be paid.” He lets out a startled laugh, clearly not expecting her to make such a joke.

“That’s very clever, Lady Estelle,” he says, his eyes sparkling. “You were a pleasure to have on my fitting platform, I do hope to see you again soon. At least to make up for my absolute buffoonery.” He’s back to the confidently poised man who first greeted her when she entered the shop, and he plants another light kiss on the back of her hand. 

“I assure you, the pleasure was all mine,” Estelle murmurs, almost hoping that he doesn’t hear her. “Oh, and Astarion?”

“Yes, my Lady?”

“Please. Call me Stella.

***

Several tenday have passed since Stella’s first meeting with Astarion, and she had visited his shop nearly every evening. It didn’t take long for her to admit her feelings; she couldn’t hide them even if she wanted to. Even when Astarion confessed his status as a vampire spawn, she wasn’t deterred. If anything, it aroused her all the more. Something happens to Astarion when he drinks her blood. The humble and subservient tailor disappears, and in his place is a self-assured and dominant man. Stella is more than happy to relinquish control over to him. She’s responsible for so much during the day, making decisions, telling people what to do, so there’s an appeal to having someone else take that role for once. 

The moment she walks into the shop she’s met with the graceful gentleman. No matter how many times she sees him, that wicked smile sets a small ember in her belly that quickly spreads. Each point of contact lights on fire despite his chilled skin. A spark in her fingers as he pulls her forward, a flame on her cheek as he strokes it gently. In an instant he shuts the door and flips around the open sign. With the darkened windows and the door now closed, they’re plunged into semi-darkness and Stella feels a chill go up her spine.

Astarion wastes no time in pushing her against the door and kissing her deeply. He presses his body up against hers and she gasps into his kiss as he pulls her in closer by her waist. He slides his knee between her legs and she lets out a whimper. Astarion chuckles in her ear.

“Eager, aren’t we?” he coos, lifting her slightly with his knee putting a delicious pressure on her mound. She clutches the back of his neck and hair, wrapping her leg around him to get even closer. He hikes up her skirt to her waist and scoops her up so both of her legs grip his midsection. Keeping his lips locked on hers as she continues to devour him, he carries her through the shop and to one of the adjacent rooms where there’s a bed and two untouched glasses of wine sitting on a side table. The tailor’s quarters. 

He throws her down on the bed and she looks up at him, cheeks and lips flushed, eyes glowing. Her typically neatly coiffed hair is mussed and strands splay out beneath her head like a halo. Astarion straddles her waist, pinning her in place, as he strokes her face.

“Tell me what you want,” he breathes, looking down at her with heavy lidded eyes. She grabs his shirt and pulls him in close.

“You know what I want,” she smirks, gaze flickering between his eyes and lips. He laces his fingers through her tousled hair and gently grazes his fangs over her neck, eliciting a sharp gasp.

“And you know I like to hear it,” he murmurs into her neck, and another full-body shiver goes through Stella. His breath feels chilling against her warm neck, blood pumping eagerly through her arteries. She grabs his face and forces him to look her in the eye – the last bit of control she has before she cedes it completely.

“Astarion,” she says slowly, measured and teasing, “I would enjoy it very much if you bit my neck, drank my blood, and then had your fucking way with me.” He chuckles darkly.

“Well,” he grins, a mischievous glint in his eye, “since you asked so nicely.” Stella lets out a moan as his fangs sink into her skin, the piercing pain soon giving way to a throbbing ache. His lips close around the wound, drinking in her delicious warmth, leaving her feeling blissfully lightheaded. She hums with pleasure as she curls her fingers into his silvery locks, hips unconsciously rolling into his, hungry for more contact. She can feel him growing stronger as her blood flows into him, his thighs tightly gripping her hips, keeping her locked into place. 

Astarion pulls away from her before going too far and Stella lets out a small whine at the loss of contact. He’s out of breath, chest heaving as he licks the last of her blood from his lips. He presses two fingers to the wound on her neck to stanch the bleeding as she looks up at him, pupils blown wide with lust. Once he can feel that the blood is no longer flowing freely, he takes his fingers away and hovers them centimeters above Stella’s lips.

“Open,” he commands, and she dutifully obeys. She takes his fingers into her mouth and sucks on them lasciviously, the metallic taste of her own blood filling her mouth. It’s one thing to prick her finger and to suck on it to make the bleeding stop. It’s quite another to lap her blood of Astarion’s fingers, languishing in the vulgarity of the taboo. She yearns to hear his breath hitch as she works her tongue over their length. 

He slides his fingers out of her mouth and grabs her chin, reversing the roles from moments before. He examines her face, turning it this way and that, like he’s inspecting a prized golden retriever at a dog show. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he lets out in a low tone. “Trapped underneath me, open and wanton, ready to let me do whatever I want with you. To you,” he adds on with an impish grin, and Stella squirms with anticipation. He swings a leg over her and stands by the edge of the bed, towering over her.

“Up now, on your knees,” he instructs and she scrambles to sit on her knees, still looking up at Astarion with lust-filled eyes. He reaches behind her and fully releases her hair from its loose braid letting it fall down the length of her back. He runs his fingers through her hair, humming as he does, “Good girl.” Her chest swells with the intake of breath as she leans into his touch even more.

“Undress. Quickly,” he demands. Her skirt is already up around her waist so she peels the rest of her dress off in a fluid motion. The corset provides a little more resistance, but even with fumbling fingers she manages to untie the laces and undo the hooks, letting it fall behind her. The sudden exposure to air makes her nipples go hard. Astarion smirks and cups one of her breasts in his hand, stroking her tit with his thumb. Stella bites back a cry.

“Shh shh shh. Not a sound,” Astarion whispers as he puts his lips close to her ear, continuing to fondle her. “I don’t want to hear you make a single noise, understood? Not until I say so.” He pulls away and locks his crimson eyes on her brown ones. Stella trembles, but nods silently.

“Good,” he breathes and slides her forward so that she’s sitting on the edge of the bed with her toes lightly touching the floor. He then lowers himself to one knee between her legs. He kisses up her thigh until he reaches her panties. He looks up at her mischievously as he hooks a finger in either side of the waistband, and he slips them off in a single fluid motion. Stella shudders with anticipation for what he plans to do next. 

Astarion parts her legs and she can feel the cool air on the slickness between her thighs. He leans forward and takes her nipple in his mouth, flicking his tongue lightly over the tip. She takes in a shaky breath, but she manages to keep any noise she might want to make under wraps. He looks up at her while continuing to work his tongue. She clenches the sheets as jolts of white hot electricity shoot through her body. He pushes her legs apart even further and leans in, the ties from his frilled shirt lightly brushing against her folds. She gasps and shifts her pelvis, simultaneously trying to get less and more contact. He grabs her waist forcefully to hold it in place. He snakes his way up so that they’re face to face, lips a hair’s breadth apart.

“Ah ah, no moving either. Are you going to be good for me? Will you be silent like I’ve asked?” he says in a light, sing-songy tone. Stella keeps her lips clamped together as she nods.

“And what will you give me if you can’t obey?” he purrs, brushing his lips against hers as he runs a thin, cool finger along her slit. 

“Ah-anything,” Stella moans, turning her pleasure sound into a response. Astarion lets a smug grin play on his lips.

“Either way, I’ll get what I want,” he intones, and mercifully pulls his face away from hers. She releases a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. But it’s still only the beginning.

He lowers himself onto both knees and places a delicate kiss on her labia. She squirms but remains silent.

“My, you could drown a small army down here,” he says with an amused smile, and Stella just continues to breathe heavily, her chest rising and falling as she gazes down at the head of white curls between her legs. He runs the tip of his tongue along her folds, hands pushing out on her thighs slightly as he does. As he parts her legs further he exposes more of her, letting his tongue explore the newly uncovered skin. A cry catches in Stella’s throat and she slaps a hand over her mouth. His scorching gaze fixes on her and she lets herself fall back on the bed. If she watches she’ll be done for. Then again, not being able to anticipate his next move might be even worse.

Not being one to let her escape his torment, Astarion grabs Stella beneath the legs and yanks her toward him, letting her legs fall onto his shoulders as he continues to lap up her sweetness. She chokes down a whine, her breath quickening as she desperately tries to control herself. His tongue plunges into her and she bites into her hand with a hiss. With her pelvis rolled up so that he can get the best angle, he continues fucking her with his tongue, getting deep enough that the tips of his fangs press into her ever so lightly. 

That’s what sets her over the edge. The smallest pinprick of pain along with all of the filthy things he’s doing to her with his tongue tears a scream from her throat, muffled by her hand. He stops and stands over her, backlit by the low lighting, her wetness reflecting off his devilish smile. He then grabs her by the throat, not enough to constrict her breathing, but just enough to pull her face up to his.

“What was that, my sweet?” he growls dangerously. 

“N-nothing,” Stella stammers out, but Astarion just smiles.

“I don’t think it was ‘nothing,’ darling,” he breathes, acid in his voice. “I was very explicit in my instructions, was I not?” His hand tightens around Stella’s throat and she lets out a choked sound. It’s not a sound she usually makes. Astarion pulls his hand back slightly, concern creeping into his eyes. Stella looks up at him and nods.

Keep going.

They have a safe word for a reason, but if anything unexpected happens, Astarion still prefers to check in. He’s mentioned before that sometimes he’s worried that he’ll lose control, especially right after drinking her blood.

Stella finds the danger absolutely thrilling, but wants him to feel just as safe as she does.

Astarion drops her throat and pushes her down so her back is flat against the bed. Still between her legs, he pushes his pelvis against hers, pinning her wrists above her head. He’s still fully clothed, and the leather of his pants feels deliciously cool against her wet pussy. He puts one knee up on the bed, pushing her right leg up higher and spreading her even further. As unphased and indifferent as he seems, Stella can still feel his erection pressing into her, and she shifts to feel it more.

“You said you’d give me anything if you failed, correct?” he murmurs against her lips. 

“Yes,” the word escapes on a breath.

“Then hold still.” Astarion stands and the sudden loss of all contact elicits a small whine from Stella. He flashes her a playful smirk as he walks over to the bedside table and pulls out two long strips of cloth. He climbs on top of Stella again, straddling her hips and squeezing lightly with his thighs.

“Wrists, please,” he commands almost nonchalantly. Stella immediately puts her wrists together and holds them out to Astarion.

“Good girl,” he coos and the praise makes her lightheaded. He tenderly wraps her wrists up in the silk cloth, making sure it's tight enough to prevent escape but not enough to cause any lasting damage. He then takes the other strip of cloth, a sturdier cotton broadcloth, and holds it to her lips. He ties it tightly behind her neck, keeping her from being able to open her mouth at all.

“Since you can’t control yourself enough to stay quiet,” he purrs, low and dangerous, “maybe this will do it for you. And I think,” he stands and walks over to the bed stand. He looks over his shoulder and orders in an apathetic tone, “Up dear.” She scrambles to her knees, wrists falling limply in her lap. He continues, “I think you need one more thing to remind you to whom you belong.” He pulls out a fine leather collar with a silver O-ring in the middle. Stella’s excitement mingles with genuine admiration for the craftsmanship. He turns around and lovingly closes it around her neck. He then slips one slender finger through the ring and pulls it up so her head is tilted toward him.

“How does that feel, good?” he asks lightly, and she nods, still desperate to please. He lets go of the collar and strokes her jaw. “Good,” he breathes, and she can see the self-control in his eyes. He wants to fuck her just as much as she wants him to, and it’s taking everything in his power to hold out. He leans into her lips as though he’s about to kiss her but stops just short of making contact. 

“Now, before I decide precisely what I want to do with you,” he hums into her lips, “I want to make sure you can still tell me if I need to stop or slow down. If it ever becomes too much, I want you to snap your fingers, understood? Show me now.” Astarion keeps his lips achingly close to hers, but she does as he says. When he hears her snap, he grabs her face in his hands and kisses her roughly, sliding a dastardly knee between her legs once again. She longs to reach for him but keeps her bound wrists dutifully in her lap as his lips continue their assault on hers. 

Once he breaks the kiss, he remains close and slides his hands behind her head and into her hair. “Good girl,” the words rumble low in his throat and Stella is grateful for the cloth that muffles the obscene noise she makes. He steps away and she’s finally able to see all of him as he pulls off the tunic, revealing his porcelain chest. She yearns to run her fingers along it, tracing the outlines of his muscles, but instead she just grabs a fistful of sheets beneath her hands. He pulls down his trousers, letting his already hardened cock free, and her pussy twitches in anticipation. 

Astarion saunters back up to her and touches the front of her gag where a small wet spot is forming with her desire for him. He smirks and pulls her face down to his cock, running the tip of it along the broadcloth. She can feel it brush against her lips, and she again moans in anticipation. 

“Don’t you wish you could take me in your mouth?” he breathes, and Stella presses her tongue against the inside of the gag, trying to make even minimal contact. He laughs cruelly. “Gods, you’re desperate,” he scoffs. “It’s a shame, because if you had been able to follow my instructions, I may have even let you ride me on top.” He pushes the tip of his dick into the gag one more time before pulling away, leaving Stella to squirm achingly. 

“But instead,” he forcefully pushes her back so that she’s once again lying on the bed with her legs spread open for him. He crawls on top of her and teases her opening with his tip. She mewls in desperation. “You’ll have to contend with me doing whatever I want to this beautiful body of yours. I can slide in,” and he pushes into her, wrenching a gasp and whine from her mouth, before pulling out and letting his tip tease her again, “and pull out on a whim. You said I could do whatever I want.”

Stella is beside herself with lust. Unable to move her hands, she writhes her pelvis, trying to get even the slightest bit of contact. Her pussy is starting to burn from the pent up desire and she’s genuinely unsure of how much longer she can last like this. Astarion grins widely and his fangs sparkle in the low lighting. 

“Shall I give you what you want, darling? What you so fiercely crave?” His slick tip is still dancing around her cunt and tears are starting to form in her eyes as she nods. He thrusts into her again and rips the cloth from her lips before whispering sharply into her ear.

“Then I want to hear it all,” he hisses. “I want you screaming my name as I fuck you.” With his permission, she cries out, all of her stifled energy finally releasing.

“Oh gods, Astarion, fuck me please,” the words spill from her mouth uncontrollably. He starts pounding into her and she knows after all that time teasing her, she won’t last long. The heat of him sliding in and out, the stretch with each thrust, fills her with a fire that threatens to turn into an explosion. 

“Fuck, Astarion, please,” she whines, moments away from climax. She wraps her legs around his waist to get him in deeper, and now it’s his turn to let out a low moan. He continues to slam into her, the sounds of their mutual pleasure mounting.

“Look at me,” he growls, and she struggles to keep her gaze locked onto his crimson eyes. He looks so beautiful above her, silvery hair getting slick with sweat, panting as he continues his smooth rhythm. She can feel her orgasm building as her cries grow louder. He knows she’s close, too, and once again he flashes a fang-bearing smile.

“Come for me, darling,” he groans, and that sends her toppling over the edge.

“Gods, Astarion, yes!” she screams as she comes, and his follows shortly after. With a final thrust, he releases into her, his cock pulsing exquisitely. He looks down at her with an uncharacteristically shy smile and kisses her as he pulls out.

Both of them are out of breath as he collapses onto the bed next to her. Stella’s limbs feel light as though she just downed an entire bottle of dream mist. She rolls onto her side to look at Astarion, who appears to be equally intoxicated. Without a word she holds her wrists up, and he laughs lightly.

“Ah, yes, you might want those back,” he croons, and uses his teeth to pull out the knot, and the silk falls away in one fluid motion. Her hands are so close to his face that she cups his chin gently, just content to look at him.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, and he turns a kiss into her palm. 

“I could say the same thing,” he purrs as he looks up at her through his lashes. “Tea?” He pulls up the plush blanket that had been folded neatly at the end of the bed and wraps it around Stella’s shoulders. She snuggles into it and pulls it closed around her, then nods. He plants a quick kiss on her forehead and walks over to fill the kettle hanging above the hearth. Stella admires his silhouette, backlit by the light of the fire. He’s lithe and sinewy, his sculpted muscles built for dexterity more than strength. Her eyes rake over his broad shoulders, the dip of his lower back, the curve of his bare ass. He turns his head to look at her over his shoulder.

“Yes?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Nothing,” she hums, “just enjoying the view.” He smiles as he leans over the blanket cocoon she’s swathed herself in and kisses her lips softly, gently. He’s always particularly tender with her after a session like that, and Stella is grateful for it. She loves being able to see both of these sides of Astarion. The affable tailor eager to serve, and the dangerous dom claiming his power. Her fingers lightly dance on the collar he put on her. She likes the idea of belonging to him. A pity she couldn’t wear something as conspicuous as a leather collar in her daily life.

Astarion returns with a steaming mug, and as though reading her mind, pulls a long jewelry box from the drawer of the bedside table. 

“A companion piece to your collar, if you so wish,” he says in explanation. “You’re under no obligation to wear it, of course, but I thought you might like a little reminder of me everywhere you go.” She opens the box and nestled in the satin is a delicate silver chain with a small ring in the center. Her jaw drops slightly as she marvels at its beauty.

“Astarion, how did you–?” she begins, but he cuts her off.

“It pays to be a well-connected artisan, darling,” he says with a shrug. 

“Will you put it on me?” Stella asks in a light voice, and he looks delighted. She lifts up her hair so that he can unclasp the leather collar and replace it with the silver necklace. His fingers brush against her neck, lingering on the puncture mark he left earlier.

“Although perhaps you might want to sport high-collared dresses for a bit,” he admits with an apologetic grin. Stella turns and kisses him, cupping his face and gently running her thumb along his jaw.

“Well thank the gods I have a tailor who can make me new gowns in all the latest fashions,” she smirks. He climbs on top of her to kiss her more deeply, their naked bodies touching in a way that’s intimate, but not sexual. She could melt into his flesh, his kiss, his breath, and never want to change a thing.

[simplepotatofarmer]

sharing is caring

a short rivals duo fic for my 'hey loyal write this' challenge based off this art by @youreanidiom

“Why do you always wear that stupid crown?”

The question caught Techno by surprise. Not the subject matter – it was exceedingly like Dream to ask a question that was a mix of genuine curiosity designed to get a rise out of him – but the fact he had asked it at all. Often, Dream fell worryingly quiet, for hours at a time, staring into space. This quiet was sometimes broken up angry, loud outbursts that bordered on mania.

Techno preferred the vaguely insulting question, if he was honest.

“For your information, Dream, I don’t always wear it,” he said.

Dream rolled his eyes.

“You know what I mean,” said Dream, tacking on a muttered ‘god’ that was barely audible and which Techno decided to ignore.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, man.” Giving a snort, Techno sat down on the couch, an arm’s length away from Dream. “I dunno, I always thought it was kinda cool lookin’. What, are you jealous?”

“Pfft. No.”

“Sounds like somethin’ a jealous person would say.”

A strangled, offended sound escaped Dream that could have been a laugh if you knew Dream well enough.

“I’m not—I’m not jealous, Techno! You’re such an idiot.”

“Mm hm. Suuure. Sure, you’re not, I believe you, Dream,” Techno said. Now that attention had been brought to the crown, he could feel it sitting on his head, lighter than most would’ve expected but maybe he was used to it. Reaching up, he took it off. The metal was warm and scuffed in places.

“Fuck off.”

“I’ll tell you what.” With a groan, Techno stretched, watching Dream out of the corner of his eye. “Since I’m such a nice and generous friend, I’ll let you borrow it.”

“What? I don’t want your stupid—”

Techno placed the crown on Dream’s head and he fell silent immediately. The expression on his face was one of utter confusion, mouth partly open, no trace of the annoyance that had been there a moment before. Dream leaned back against the couch.

“I hate to say it, but it doesn’t look half bad on you,” Techno said.

A grin tugged at the corners of Dream’s mouth.

“Yeah, whatever.”

*******************************************

Dream hadn’t looked at the mask since leaving the prison.

It was tucked under the orange jumpsuit, put away in a chest that Techno had gently told him that he could access whenever he wanted. Dream hadn’t wanted to – he was tired and they all had seen his face – but he had considered it when everything was a little too overwhelming. There was something comforting about being able to retreat behind the mask.

A shudder ran through Dream when he opened the chest and saw the torn and stained jumpsuit, a hot metallic taste in his throat. Quickly, he pushed it aside and grabbed the mask, practically slamming the chest closed.

The mask was cold and heavier than he remembered.

“You better not be stealin’ from me.”

Techno’s voice was light, teasing, and still Dream jumped, fumbling with the mask and whirling around to look at Techno. His grin had faded, expression softening, and Techno held his hands up.

“Sorry, man.”  

Dream ignored the apology as he moved to sit on the couch.

“I wasn’t—I wasn’t stealing, it’s mine.”

“I know, Dream, it was a joke,” Techno said, sitting as well, giving Dream enough space without sitting on opposite ends. “I was just teasin’ you.”

“Yeah, well, your jokes suck.” Dream fidgeted with the mask. “You’re—”

Techno cut him off.

“Alright, someone needs a timeout.”

He placed the crown on Dream’s head.

“Ugh,” said Dream but his shoulders sagged.

It took Techno all his self control not to burst into laughter.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. So, are you gonna tell me what’s up with the mask?”

“No.” When Techno raised an eyebrow, Dream clarified, “I was just—God, here. You keep giving me your stupid crown, you can have this.”

Dream held the mask out in Techno’s direction without looking at him, eyes glued to a beam on the ceiling as if it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. Techno took the mask.

“Aw, that’s so sweet, Dream, you givin’ me your creepy mask,” he said and despite the teasing words, his voice was soft, expression bemused. Without prompting, Techno put it on. The straps were too small and his snout too big to wear properly and it sat crooked on his head. “How do I look?”

Dream finally turned to him.

“Like an idiot.”

If it hadn’t been for the smile on Dream’s face, Techno might have been offended. Instead, he laughed and gave Dream a pat on the shoulder.

“Takes one to know one, man.”

[voxxisms]

vague wishlist thread ideas sorted by character (types?) i have some thoughts sometimes about things i wanna do with vox, plots && ideas. some of these are vague or more specific, && some are just settings or aus. putting a cut for dashboard sake. might link in pinned, will tag appropriately. might add more later.

general interactions / with anyone

vox at the hotel in either seeking redemption or as an investor

vox being injured or your muse fighting him in some capacity

vox stepping in to protect your muse with the goal of taking advantage of the dynamic. soul contract / employment or even just general favor owing

redeemed vox in heaven?? hello?

overpowered au content. this post sorta explains the vibes. he's super paranoid, very powerful, but surprisingly easy to be chill with if you behave well.

role swap vox with anyone literally. the only real one ive considered is alastor, in depth. he's an old - fashioned box head, perfectly modern inside for efficiency but looks like he belongs in the decades he lived in. very gentle, very empathetic && sweet. contracted to lilith (mine unless someone else wants to contract him) && helps the hotel.

vox being contracted to someone else.

arranged marriages / marriages of convenience

human verse stuff!! from either when vox was alive (1898-1945) or i'm happy to play with timelines in aus

bridgerton au, vox is george taylor, a wildly sickly man with too much money && a rake mostly. a lord by blood.

hanahaki. unrequited love that gives them diseases, any ending.

his self - punishment room being discovered.

vox in therapy lmaoo

fake dating.

with valentino

valentino having to fix vox

their toxic / possibly sweet relationship when they're on

vox being jealous / possessive

a break up?? if they're on / off it feels like something that happens a lot, i find them fun to write

marry each other smh tax benefits or domestic, either

valentino saving vox / vox saving valentino

with velvette

vox saving her in any way

her having to fix him post a fight or something else

vox modeling for her

ship stuff is fine, just as like, qpr stuff or mentorships

vox being over protective even if he really shouldnt be

with charlie

vox investing in the hotel for any reason (be it her askance, his own idea, or someone else's, or even seeking redemption ). might be genuine, probably more for info gathering

vox offering to personally assist in repairing the hotel

vox saving charlie from danger for fun bc its always good to have someone owe him something

with husk

knowing husk in his overlord times ( pre show / au )

vox having invested in husk's casino

vox being husk's contract holder for some reason?? could be fun

vox n husk fake dating for any reason i saw art for it once listen

with lucifer

vox seeking lucifer's creation expertise in early years (he was an entrepreneur once)

vox doing work / helping with lulu world being created as resident like, electronics man

vox making a deal with lucifer in some capacity, not necessarily Big Deal but you know

with angel

vox protecting him

vox saving him from valentino's ire (on acccident or otherwise)

vox having to step in for valentino on set lmaooo

angel && vox bonding over their similar experiences with val

vox caring for angel post a valentino encounter

angel for some reason being under contract with vox (different work/different expectations)

with rosie

the two having been close during vox's active relationship with alastor?

vox doing business with rosie / i.e. providing her with bodies or people from his territory in exchange for allyship

him investing in cannibal town somehow. owning property / providing funds for rennovation

tea parties?? him cooking for her?? her teaching him how to make cannibal - based food??

with alastor

alastor having been a mentor to early - hell vox

au in which the two have always remained working together, i love the concept. very media husbands coded but also not necessary to be romantic.

all the backstory, their friendship pre - show, especially the event that actually led them to split. i like to hc that they several things that slowly pushed them apart until vox invited him to the vee's right before alastor disappeared (this is dependent of course on the alastor / those hcs but)

au where alastor actually joined the vee's

au where vox offered alastor his soul in exchange for them remaining "friends". does not have to be a very sweet dynamic ofc

vox cooking for alastor / other vaguely domestic things

generally reconciling bc yknow

vox dying!! in alastor's arms!! or the other way around!! (not necessarily permanent but yknow)

RadioStatic of all flavors, unrequited/unspoken/QPR/exes/anything.

the role swap from above.

with other vox's i love duplicate interactions

the girls are fighting

playing into the doubling && working together

vox trying to help the other vox get back home properly

other vox (or himself) being a clone on purpose

upgrading / fixing each other

protecting each other

left brain right brain vibes???

au swaps? a role reversal vox meeting a regular vox? timeline swaps? one vox is from the 70's one vox is from modern times? one vox who is still friends with alastor && the other who isn't?

[numbuh424]

Hello! I really love your Death Note art!! Especially your blog header. I saw it and thought it was so cool how you copied the manga style!! Your posts about it say they're you're Death Note OC? Do you have anymore info you can share about them or previous posts about them? Are they a Death Note user? I'm really curious cause the art is so cool and I love reading about people's OCs. That's all, thanks for all the cool art you make!

Hello!! Thank you so much for enjoying my art 🙏 And thank you for asking about my OC! I've never really talked about her publicly before just cause I've never really... Made an OC before? So this ask made me really happy 🥹 I'll try to keep this short but it definitely won't be lol because I don't know when I'll ever get to talk about her again.

Years ago I had a plot stewing in my head for a story where Near shuts down the L successor program, steps down as L, and puts the title to rest. It takes place a year after the A-Kira story, which is around 10 years after Death Note's main story.

The idea was that someone began exposing Wammy's for their covered-up misdeeds and the fact that this is where successors of L were being raised. Because of that information being leaked, Wammy's House becomes unsafe for everyone in it.

OC talk under the cut 🙏

Apart from needing an antagonist who leaks all this information, I also needed a character who was there during the years Near wasn't to fill in the gaps for him and lead him to the culprit.

All the major information about her is here on this OC character profile I made a while back. Lee honestly began as a general persona/self-insert that I use whenever I want to draw myself. I still often use her as my persona when I make silly doodles and whatnot. However, as a Death Note OC, I've really lost control of her and she has just gone on to take a life of her own lol

Lee comes from Wammy's House and entered when she was 12, a lot later than the rest. She first arrived only months before L died and Near and Mello left to hunt Kira. Though gifted with photographic memory, she could never really make it into the successor program through that alone. Despite this, she dedicated her years at Wammy's to pursuing the title against all odds, only to come up short every single time until she finally graduated. Knowing she wasted years pursuing the title, she grew bitter towards L and the program and left the orphanage to pursue an art career like she originally wanted.

She became an art teacher and kept her distance from anything related to the crime/police/investigators. Unfortunately, as fate would have it (fate being me, the person controlling everything about her life), she became a witness to a crime where she used her skills to draw the culprit. Her sketch is what gets the man arrested and what causes the police to recruit her. Though she always said she'd abstain from detective work after wasting her time on it at Wammy's, she wants to be useful so she agrees to work part-time lowkey.

She doesn't like having the spotlight on her, as years of fighting for it in her youth have worn out her motivation for being seen. She keeps her past under lock and key and lies about it constantly, but her memory allows her to keep track of her lies easily.

Her role in the story is that her past identity (her real name and lived experiences) is stolen and used to frame her as the person leaking information about the orphanage - an "insider tells all" who wants to destroy L, Quillish Wammy, and the orphanage. Because Lee is so detached from her past, at first she lets the culprit just use her old identity. It's not her anymore, anyway, so why bother her about it? It's only when the culprit starts murdering people and throws her current identity under the bus that she starts sweating. There's a criminal investigation underway and she's their only suspect.

Near and his team know she's not behind any of this; they're really the only ones who know for sure because of his ties to Wammy's (it's kind of a reverse L and Light situation where he's sure it's not her but everyone else is out to get her lol). However, she can definitely help point them in the direction of the person who's behind it all.

The problem is Lee's animosity towards the L program extend to Near, who is the only L she really knows considering the real L died a few months after she arrived at the orphanage. Near tries to bring her on board for the case since she's the best lead they could possibly ask for, but because of her distaste towards L and the orphanage, she refuses to join at first. The culprit going one step further and framing her for murder is what pushes her to finally go with Near and his team because her life has fallen apart and the police are coming to get her.

She really doesn't wanna help L and joins mostly for self preservation. She kinda gets a kick out of the fact that she has information the world's greatest detective can't get from anyone else. It's childish of her, but what's Death Note without a bit of childishness.

Also, to answer your other question, she's not a Death Note user. I certainly intended for her to be back then (hence the art I made for her where she has the notebook) but the story I came up with has undergone dramatic changes since. She still very much works with pen and paper, just not in that way anymore lol

That's most of the basic information about her and her role in the story I may or may not ever write. I honestly have the broad strokes mapped out already, including the ending.

Spoilers (for a story that only exists in my head lol), Near has Wammy's House demolished and has a new institution built for the kids. The successor program is dissolved and he has Lee head the art department since she was already an art teacher before everything happened.

Thanks so much for asking about her 🙏

[robyn-i-guess]

gerrymichael enjoyers and writers i want your opinion 🎤

ok so i have this au fic for gerrymichael where it's college au, and it's a like the whole bad boy/good girl (minus the fact they're both boys, and even that's questionable)

basically, gerry is stereotyped due to his more alternative looks and everyone assumes he's probably doing illegal things or just sleeps around a lot

meanwhile michael is the head of student council "goody two shoes" type, who most are sort of aware of but don't know anything about

gerry thinks about michael. a lot. he sees them in the halls for only a few seconds a day but thinks about him for a lot longer. hallway crush vibes. and when they get put into a painting class together, suddenly they have an opportunity to meet, and gerry is freaking out a usual amount. (there's more to the whole plot but that's just the beginning bit)

putting a short lil concept thing under the cut

Gerard Keay does not know Michael Shelley.

The only reason he knows their name is because they're in the student council, meaning it's not uncommon for their name to be said during school events.

He has only seen them in hallways, passing by in a rush while holding papers or books that always seem like they're going to fall out of their hands. Even in those moments, most of what Gerard is able to catch is a blur of golden curls and eyes that are ridden with exhaustion.

So, it is safe to say that he does not know Michael.

That fact only caused confusion to him whenever Gerard realized his strange excitement once learning that Michael would be in one of his classes for the semester.

It was an art class, one that he had picked due to him already being practiced is painting and drawing. He assumed it would be a fun class, or at least one that wouldn't be too stressful. However, when he had first walked into that classroom and saw Michael Shelley sitting at an area in the back, Gerard had assumed the emotion he was feeling was stress. He couldn't pinpoint why, it wasn't like he was intimidated by their status, but he couldn't shake the feeling of nervousness he felt when he accidentally locked eyes with them. He turned his head quickly in that moment, deciding to sit in the front of the room despite that not being where he'd usually prefer to be. Something about Michael sitting there made Gerard think twice about sitting in the back as he normally would.

The lecture went smoothly, it mostly being an introduction to the professor and what would be happening throughout the classes. So did the next, and then the next one after that. That didn't get rid of the feeling he felt, however, every time that Gerard walked into that room and attempted to avoid looking at the one with golden curls in the back. He knew he'd have to talk to them at some point, it was inevitable, but there was something about them that meant he was more nervous to talk to them than he usually would be. And he very much denied the idea that it could be caused by any... feelings he may have. Gerard ruled it as impossible, as he had never spoken to them, and he wasn't that much of an idiot to fall for someone he'd only mostly seen in hallways.

Michael wasn't one to speak up in class, and instead they'd work silently on any research on the history of art they may have been doing, only giving simple responses or nods when the professor would come around and ask how their work was coming along. When Gerard thought about it, he didn't really know what their voice sounded like because it was always quiet or unintelligible from their distance. That only made him more interested in talking to them.

That day never came, though, much to Gerard's disappointment.

They both went through that class without talking to each other once, and when Gerard left that room for the last time he couldn't help but feel like he had failed at some kind of goal. A failure that had meant he would be left with only seeing the elusive Michael Shelley in hallway rushes again, which annoyed him in a way he didn't understand.

He did talk to them one day, though.

(note this is old as heck lmao i've gotten better at writing since i wrote this)

anyways yeah. should i continue it or is it too basic idk, i want to write it for me but it would also be multiple chapters long and my "1k-words-is-rare-for-me" self probably won't bother to write it unless someone else is interested

[larks-birdhouse]

GENLOSS FOUNDERS CUT THOUGHTS

i want to make it so so clear i don’t want to dunk on genloss. this is my braindump and i LOVED genloss. please support young creators as they grow and improve i beg of thee

im putting this under a cut because i expect it to be long 😭

❤️ - negative

💚 - positive

💙 - neutral

💚 once again reminded how much ranboo’s acting has improved since dsmp <3

💚 AND a fantastic reminder of how great the other actors are!!!! all the deaths still hurt and the security officers did SO SO GOOD

💚 i love that hetch is more evil now. hurts even more watching hetch manipulate ran even harder up to his death

💚 ranboo has survivor’s guilt :’[ god him slowly accepting it was his fault (even though it WASNT) broke me

💚❤️ i think redubbing certain parts makes sense, but for some reason it was just really obvious during niki’s intro?? it felt so jarring

💙 ngl i paused the premiere to catch the qr code. in my defence i was about half an hour behind already :’]

❤️ GOD i wish we saw more of the carousel folks. so much time spent on setting up mousetrap, so little on them. is that in of itself a commentary? genuine question i do not know

❤️ also i am so sad we didn’t see more of austin’s “hey what the fuck is happening.” there was plenty of it but i want MORE

❤️💙 and i wish there was a little more time on ethan’s fashion show simply because it is funny

💚 the play on words with austin being the straight man is still fantastic

💚 someone else pointed this out (i’m not sure who i saw it from first but i’ll find them) but hetch near exclusively calling ranboo “hero” is such a good detail. not their name, but their character

💙 i forgot about the charlie stream! but honestly i would fully believe that is something charlie would just Do

❤️ I WANT MORE SNEEGGGGGG WHERE WAS HE

💚 the ART!! the DESIGNS of the devices!! adds so much to the story and i’m so glad they were shared. such fantastic art too!!

❤️ the create-a-creature kinda came out of nowhere, i was so confused and i wish there was a bit more buildup

💙 about hetch saying they aren’t themselves anymore: how many times can the actors get tortured and brainwashed before they stop being themselves? how much of them can be taken and replaced before it stops being them? (theseus’s ranboo)

💚 I LOVED THE SQUIGGLES ANIMATIONS!!!! SO GOOD I NEED TO FIND MORE OF THE CREATOR’S WORK

❤️ i might have missed it so correct me if i’m wrong but i don’t think we had the wide shot of the hero-kill-inator or whatever and i WISH we did because it goes so hard

💚 in terms of ending changes, i loved both endings!! both so good for different reasons, and the “thank you” KILLS ME IM SO SORRY BOO I HOPE YOU CAN JOIN YOUR FRIENDS IN THE CANON AFTERLIFE

💙 actually only hell is canon. maybe heaven just Doesn’t Exist. only suffering

💚❤️ at some points i thought the gore was great and at some points i wanted MORE. all the blood seeping out from under the doors, the room they haven’t “reset” yet, the guts instead of food were all great. but i wanted more of surgery charlie’s suffering to contrast the absurdity and just generally more carnage

❤️ i also wish there was more audio gore with austin & sneeg’s deaths. the wall just kind of Stops with no indication of them being crushed and its not apparently obvious that they died

💚 gen zero preview!!! i’m so excited, wondering who will be brought in for that one

💚 hearing the echos of “just let me die” in the beginning was haunting, fantastic stuff loved it

💚 HOW DID I FORGET THE PHOTOS THAT WAS SO GOOD ARE THOSE REAL BABY RANBOO PHOTOS?? INCREDIBLE

💚 overall i quite enjoyed the founder’s cut! can’t wait to see what comes next and i’m so proud of ranboo!!

💙 what is it with media about content creator self inserts that suffer immensely with little to no comfort that draws me in so? why has this happened so many times??

[makerofmadness]

Ok FNAF fans who haven't gotten to playing ruin yet: be careful before you draw fanart, we finally got a good look at Cassie's design (albeit via art that contains lore spoilers I think-) and basically; turns out she isn't white.

I'll put the art under the cut for those who wanna see it but I will warn you that it is kinda spoilers (in the game itself it's got like heavy purple lighting but I found a cleaner version on tumblr. I forgot who made it though I saved the image and then forgot where I saved it from :'3):

I know almost all of the fanart making her white was made before we actually got her official design and all we had was that really dark teaser image where people could barely even discern her hair color let alone anything else, but now we have a clear look at her so please be careful not to whitewash her.

I like to give people the benefit of the doubt so I'll give it like a month before I start blocking people for it since it wouldn't be fair to block someone who hadn't even seen her design yet and is just going off what the rest of the fandom was doing/what they thought they saw in that really dark teaser image. But after a month I think it'd be safe to assume that most FNAF fans drawing art for Ruin will have seen this image and after that there isn't an excuse.

This is not meant to be an attack on anyone, Ruin only came out yesterday, I just want to make sure people are aware of this before they end up getting mass-blocked without knowing why.