#Now to work on finishing orders then figuring out which project to work on next!

[drfrogphd]

Vocaloid Heart Buttons (Pin-back/Magnet) are now available in my shop!

✨ drfrogphd.etsy.com

[bananastarlo]

yandere Isekai trope

What if you wake up in another world and nothing is quite as it was before you fell asleep? Everything looked different—hell, even you looked different, wearing a strange school uniform.

That’s when a screen appears before you:

“In order to leave this place, you must get along with the yandere of this universe and identify—plus avoid—their darling. Good luck, and don’t get yourself killed.“

So that’s why you’re standing in front of the classroom the screen assigned you to. Peering inside, nobody seems to notice your presence. You take a seat and inspect every person carefully… 

Nothing out of the ordinary.

Is he not in this school?

But then he walked in, head slightly bowed to avoid drawing attention to himself. Yet somehow, you knew it had to be him. It was a gut feeling, strong and undeniable. The boy was quite tall and lean, with little muscle, a gentle appearance, and hair that fell over his face. His expression was unsure.

He’s supposed to be the yandere? You smirked to yourself. Definitely manageable.

As he took his seat, you came up to him and warily sat yourself down next to him. He didn’t even bother glancing up, absorbed in whatever he was sketching in his notebook. 

You’d figured you should try befriending him—gain his trust so he (hopefully) wouldn’t hurt you.

Your first interaction with him was short-lived 

“Hey, I’m new here. Uh…what’s your name?“

…

Shit. 

You take a peek at his notebook.

“That’s a really pretty drawing! You’re very talented!“

“…Thank you.“ 

Were you the first person he’d spoken to? It sure felt like it. You almost felt bad for him.

As time went on, you tried every tactic to win him over. After countless failed attempts, you finally earned his tolerance, maybe even fondness. Now, he even waits for you after class, which was…kind of cute. You learned his name was Luca, a shy boy who loved to draw and read comics.

It made sense for him to be a yandere, you thought. 

Eventually, he grew clingy. You didn’t mind. If anything, his attachment meant he wouldn’t turn on you later…right?

But you’d be lying if you said he hadn’t grown on you, too. If not for the yandere thing, you’d actually enjoy your late-night talks (it’s more of a one-sided conversation, but oh well…) and the times when you did school projects together at your house and he gets flustered by being in your space. 

But you’re forgetting something really important, aren’t you? 

“Hey, my name is Lola! It’s nice to meet you all!“ 

She was an awfully cheery girl who just transferred here. The kind of girl boys fell for. Even…

You turn your head to study Luca’s reaction.

His expression was unreadable, but this has to be her—the darling. Now, you just had to avoid her as much as possible.

“Thank you. You can sit now. Uh…you! You’ll show Lola around and partner with her for the upcoming project.“

The teacher pointed directly at you.

Aw, shit.

Arguing was pointless, so you agreed. But you could feel Luca’s glare burning into you as Lola beamed beside you.

“I hope we become good friends!“

You spent the rest of class ignoring him, but dread coiled in your stomach. 

After class, as everyone scattered, you grabbed Luca‘s wrist before he could leave. “Listen, I…I really like you. I don’t want anything to change what we have. Once I finish what the teacher asked, I‘ll stay away from her, okay?“

He blinked in surprise, then smiled. “I-I didn’t think you’d understand. Thank you so much.“

And with that, he left.

At least that went well.

Or so you thought.

Lola was determined to befriend you. No hint, no brush-off worked. The more time you spent with her, the more Luca withdrew. His distance made you paranoid—rightfully so.

Today was another dreadful day and you were the only one left in school working on an assignment—too scared to walk home now that it was already this dark out. After packing up, you sighed and headed out—until a strange noise made you stop in place. 

Against your better judgement, your feet dragged you to the source, scared of what you would find.

That’s when you saw an open classroom and heard a piercing scream from inside. Your stomach dropped and hands started shaking.

There he was, repeatedly stabbing a person, who was so familiar to you, you almost threw up. Lola. Luca was hunched over her. He must’ve heard you, because his head slowly turned, blood splattered across his face.

“You? My darling… you weren’t supposed to see this.“

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!“ You backed away.

He looked like he was the one who had just been stabbed. His lips trembled.

“W-What do you mean? I did this for us! She wouldn’t stop bothering you! She deserved this—ALL OF IT! She wanted to take you away from me, can’t you see? You told me you didn’t want anything to change what we have, so please, please don’t look at me with that look. I love you so much, please…“

What have you done?

[hearts4golbach]

Can I request carrington x reader where his Lon term partner (reader) didn’t like flowers, so he makes her paper ones himself? Like those paper bouquets you see in like, booktok

Thank God for Tiktok.

pairing:

Carrington Bornstein x Fem!Reader.

a/n:

pre established relationship 👅

not proofread

warnings:

none.

word count:

1.0k

To say Carrington had been crafting for hours was an understatement. the sun had gone down a while back. He was sitting in his moonlit room surrounded by miscellaneous crafting tools and books. tomorrow was your birthday. no, he hadn't been procrastinating. he had ordered you a gift but stumbled upon the idea to make you paper flowers. you preferred not to get real flowers. You were always so upset when they inevitably died.

so, he was glued to his bed (pun intended), making you an immortal bouquet of paper flowers.

previously, he had rushed out of the house to go find some books he could cut up. clearly, he didn't own any, and he wasn't about to steal one of Johnnies' comics. he settled on going out, possibly to goodwill or target, to get a book or two for his project. he wandered to the arts and crafts section, getting a hot glue gun and sticks. he also found a pack of pipe cleaners and some ribbon. everything he had chosen was a perfect match for his vision. and with that, he was all set.

it had been about three and a half hours since then. he was about to finish the very last flower, then he'd have a set of exactly twenty. he mentally praised himself for how well they actually turned out. he even curled out the edges of the paper to imitate real flowers.

setting the last one in the pile, he admired his work. he couldn't help but smile to himself, dreaming of your reaction at dinner tomorrow night.

Carrington grabbed a handful of the dark green pipe cleaners and began attaching them to the paper flowers. thoughts of your bright smile plagued his mind.

he knew you'd be somewhat shocked at the present, considering he wasn't an arts and crafts type of person. when it came to you, he was up for anything.

he envisioned how the bouquet would look in your bedroom, grinning to himself whenever he realized it'd fit your aesthetic perfectly.

he sang to himself softly. the song that was playing reminded him of you. he was slightly relieved when gluing the stems on didn't take as long as the flowers themselves. he held the fairly large bouquet in one hand, a stupid smile plastered on his face. he tied a bow around the stems as perfectly as he could before setting it on his desk carefully.

as soon as he crashed into bed, he fell asleep almost immediately. ignoring the ache in his knuckles and the slight pounding in his head, he drifted off to sleep.

the next morning went by fast. he had a couple of 'business' things to figure out with Jake and Johnnie, which went by a lot quicker than he had figured. by lunchtime, he was anxiously waiting by his phone for you to respond. of course, he knew it'd take forever. you were at lunch with friends, and you were coming over straight after. it was a sort of nervous excitement. he couldn't wait to see your reaction to his gift.

Carrington decided against sitting there for another hour. he went to the bathroom and adjusted his hair. his curly dark brown locks hung in his face, complimenting his bright blue eyes. he tried to do something different with his hair, but there wasn't much. he knew you wouldn't care. You loved playing with his messy hair.

finally, his phone rang. your name and photo popped up on the screen. he scrambled to his phone and answered on the first ring. "Hi, baby." he greeted.

"Hey," he could hear the sudden smile in your voice, which made him grin. "im leaving now. Am I still good to come over?"

"Yeah. yeah, of course." he furrowed his eyebrows together, very expressive as he spoke even though you couldn't see his face.

you hummed and said goodbye before ending the call. you sped over there, so excited you drove over the speed limit without even realizing it.

meanwhile, Carrington prepped your present. he wrapped it in sparkly black, silver, and light blue wrapping paper. he taped the small card on top and grabbed the faux bouquet. he waited downstairs on the couch, holding the items in his lap.

whenever you arrived, you walked quickly up to the door. you knocked a couple of times before entering, which had become your usual routine.

Carrington jumped up and pulled you in for a hug. you felt contentment wash over you as his hands rested on the small of your back and his head in the crook of your neck.

he placed a kiss on your neck. "Happy birthday." he pulled away, beckoning you over to the couch. "c'mere."

you silently followed him over. he handed you the small box, which was neatly wrapped. "What's this?"

"What does it look like?" he laughed, "it's a present."

"I told you I don't need anything," you scolded, a sincere tone in your voice.

"I wanted to get you something. open it!" he urged.

you rolled your eyes, a contradicting smile on your face. in the box, there was a beautiful necklace. it had 3 charms on it, your initial, Carringtons' initials, and a small heart. you pouted your lower lip and looked up at him. "I love it."

"im really glad," he grinned, handing you two more things. "Read the card later." he was embarrassed to see your reaction to what he wrote in person.

you sighed, "Fine." he finally handed you the bouquet.

your jaw fell to the floor as you looked at the beautiful, handmade flowers. "You made this?!"

he nodded, a prideful smile on his face. "I thought you'd really like them since you're a bookworm."

you paid no mind to his joke. you were absolutely starstruck by the flowers. "they're so beautiful, Carrington." You couldn't contain the soft smile that threatened to appear. you placed a soft, slow kiss on his lips. "I love you."

he placed a kiss on your forehead. "i love you." All he could think was, 'thank god for tiktok.''

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 99 (Winterfest Eve with the Nesbitt-Gordons)

Winterfest Eve was always busy. School and businesses were still open, so despite mourning the loss of Boomer, Heather and Conrad went to work, Ash went to school, and Lavender spent the day at daycare.

Ash was excited about a school project Conrad had been helping him with. For Career Day, every student had to interview someone about their job, and Ash picked Conrad. "On the next career day, I'll do vets," he promised his mother in case she felt left out. "But everyone knows what vets do in Brindleton Bay, and the other kids think it's cool that Conrad fights crime."

Heather didn't feel left out. She was grateful her son loved and respected Conrad almost as much as she did. Conrad told Ash all the cool things about being a detective, leaving out the parts he knew weren't suited to a six-year-old's Career Day presentation.

Gord had started joining him at work again, which set his mind more at ease even as his search for Rafa remained fruitless. He trusted Gord's instincts, and if he was willing to leave the house, Ximena must not be close by. His partner, Zion Spangler, still hadn't found her, and George Brindleton was still in Sulani with his wife, so the case had all but ground to a halt with the coming holidays.

He didn't mind the slowdown, anxious as he was to solve the mystery of Rafa's disappearance. This was Lavender's first Winterfest; needless to say he had more important people on his mind.

"No hits from Rafa's old yearbooks from the few years he spent at San Myshuno High," reported one of his deputies. "No extracurriculars or indications who might've been someone he'd call a friend."

Conrad frowned. A potentially deluded part of him still hoped he could figure out who had Rafa - and where - before the end of winter, but every lead he chased to a dead end left him frustrated and exhausted. He was more than ready to put this chapter of his life behind him.

At the clinic, Heather ran into the always glamorous Bella Goth when she brought in her cat, Spatula, for an exam.

"How've you been, Mrs. Goth?"

"Just wonderful! Grimmie and I went on a date the other night and it was lovely!"

Heather smiled. "I'm happy for you! And how's your pet crow, Obsidian?"

Bella smiled, dancing a little to the music coming from the clinic speakers. She reminded Heather so much of her daughter, Cassandra. "Very healthy. I know you specialize in dogs and cats, but should Obsidian ever need a good vet, will I be able to bring her to Buttercup Pet Clinic?"

"Of course, Mrs. Goth! We're not a pawspital anymore - any pets in need are always welcome!"

Mrs. Goth smiled, leaving a generous tip in the spirit of Winterfest when Heather finished with her cat. Heather closed up shop after dark, returning home under heavy snowfall and bright streetlights.

When she walked in the door, she was greeted by Gord and the cats, but she was drawn to the sound of voices upstairs, where Conrad and Ash had started decorating the tree without her. "I tried to bribe him to wait but he said he wanted to surprise you."

"I thought you might be tired, mommy."

She smiled warmly. "I don't mind that you started without me, but try not to finish yet. Just give me one second - I have a surprise!"

She raced down the stairs and pulled out four gift-wrapped boxes from beneath a pile of blankets in her wardrobe, each one labelled with their names. Conrad. Heather. Ash. Lavender. Their family.

Returning upstairs, the only place they could fit their tree, Ash squealed with excitement when he saw the presents. "Can we open them now?"

"Of course! You're going to want to wear them, I'm sure."

Conrad glanced at her with a smirk. "You ordered them, didn't you."

Heather's straight face bloomed into a smile. "Happy Winterfest Eve!"

She laughed as they opened their matching holiday pajamas. The burgundy knit sets by @vixonspixels were perfect for cold, snowy winter nights in Brindleton Bay, and they posed for a few photos they could send to family.

"Do you think we should have gotten the kids' haircuts before the holidays?" Heather moaned, playfully ruffling Ash's wispy mane.

"For some family photos?" Conrad scoffed. "The hair isn't going to be what makes them turn out great. It's the pajamas, obviously."

(I love them and they have 3 different swatches - I used them all just to show them off and I thought it'd be cute since they still look like a match. And they have infant sizes which was harder to find and what really sold me!)

Gord still needed a walk after they'd finished decorating the tree, so Heather left Conrad in charge of the kids while she took the dog for a brisk walk down to the frozen creek.

Conrad cuddled Lavender while Ash finished his letter to Father Clement downstairs. His blue-eyed baby girl was just as perfect as her mother and looked up at him with devotion; it seemed strange to think he'd ever been afraid to be a father.

He put her to bed, reciting the story of The Giving Tree, just as he had for her elder brother when he was her age. As she drifted to sleep, he kissed her forehead and pulled a small box from his pocket.

Ash raced up the stairs excitedly - he'd clearly stolen one or two of the cookies meant for Father Clement - but it wasn't just a sugar high that had him jumping off the walls tonight. "Mommy and Gord are coming back! I saw through the window. Do you have it?"

Conrad grinned, crouching down to show him what he'd pulled from his pocket. "Do you think she'll like it?"

"I think she'll love it, not like it!" Ash dropped his voice to a whisper as they heard Heather's key turn in the door downstairs. "She'll be so surprised!"

Ash's Career Day presentation wasn't the only project these two had been working on. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: River was in on it, too! He gave Conrad the number for a jeweler in the episode when he drove out to Brindleton Bay to check Conrad's stress level.

WCIF Portrait Poses? 1st is Infant Insanity by @rebouks. Looks stunning and perfect as you can see. This particular pose has room for two todds in front of Heather but we don't have any, and the pose doesn't even look like anything is missing. I love it!

2nd pose is two-in-one and still needs one more kid to look perfect. I clipped Lavender over Conrad's feet so this one's on me, not the poses, but it's also not the official portrait that ended up in a frame on the wall because Lavender isn't crawling yet, either. It's from the Ultimate Family Portrait Posepack by @simmireen, which is an amazing set!

[milkweedman]

Re: my last post, having just learned how to knit a heel that actually fits me, and having also literally just finished knitting heel 1 a couple days ago (I'm onto the heel band right now and basically have a finished heel + 10 rounds) I'm faced with 3 decisions.

1: keep going as usual with this pair and implement the new ideas next pair. PROS: easier, I already know this way fits Good Enough. Wont lose any progress. CONS: I wanna try it now....

2: rip back and redo just the heel, then knit sock 2 to match. PROS: it would allow me to implement the new technique. It would be some frogging but I wouldn't have to scrap the entire sock. CONS: I don't think it would fit me. The sock pattern I have right now is basically designed to make up for the exact issue I'd be fixing, so I'm pretty sure it would be too big. It's actually already slightly longer than ideal (I like more negative ease in length than I did this time) so I'm hesitant. I'm pretty sure I need to change the entire stitch count.

3. Frog these entirely and restart, with my new information. PROS: socks would potentially fit perfectly. Would give me a chance to either hopefully use my new sock yarn I ordered that's stuck in Stupid Automated Mailbox Contraption Jail or just pick a different yarn. (I don't hate this yarn but it's a lot to look at the object as I knit it bc its so busy.). CONS: all that work for literally nothing--I didn't even figure this out while knitting the sock; I simply listened to and watched an explanation that made complete sense. And I do find that very aggravating.

Anyway I started to crochet a bag about it, which will give me time to waffle and/or wait for yarn jail to be over. And I realized I could make a very good off-the-joystick small project bag by tweaking a bag design I often use.

(The issue btw is the same issue that Roxanne Richardson has--my heel diagonal is 12 inches and i am trying to knit a 7.5 inch sock with a 50% heel. The heel should I think actually be like 70% altho I'm very high and tired so I will need to redo that math in the morning.)

But yeah, no wonder it's always Like That. Literally all the issues she describes and shows are exactly what happens with my socks. They fit but I had given up on the idea of a Perfect Fit after like pair #25 im ngl.

Anyway....the bag is going nice :) idk what it looks like I can't see a thing rn as it is very dark, but the texture is great. I don't think I'm missing too many (if any) stitches but we'll see in the morning.

[lightsovermonaco]

an: requests and comments always welcome!

wc: 1250

Summary: Pato surprises you by coming home for your anniversary. Fluff with a slight bit of suggestiveness at the end.

One full year. One full year of dating the most thoughtful, obnoxious, beautiful, annoying soul of a man. Three hundred and sixty five days of weird faces, suggestive Snapchat captions, and random phone calls. There's been less drama and more love than you could've ever dreamed. 

You wouldn't trade the past twelve months for anything in the world. 

Dating Pato hasn't been all puppies and rainbows- although Norbi had joined the two of you on a picnic once and you had seen multiple full rainbows. There's challenges, most of which stem from the constant distance and busy schedules. But one way or another, Pato always finds a way to make you feel like he's only in the next room instead of a few states away. 

Whether it be sending you flowers after you've ranted over text or facetiming you for thirty seconds to wish you a good morning, Pato does what he can. Sometimes it's overwhelming to have him away from home so long. There's days where you aren't sure how much longer you can go without holding him in your arms or feeling his stubbly cheeks beneath your fingertips. Pato must have a sixth sense for those things however, because he always seems to know and always gives you a little more love on the rough days. 

Tonight though, you've got the man all to yourself. The lottery drew your number.  You don't know what sacrifice he's made to the scheduling gods, but he's managed to come home for your anniversary just two days before a race. And the worst part? Pato hadn't given you any warning. You'd opened the door in your pajamas, expecting your door dash order instead of the whole package. 

Once you'd attacked him and thoroughly smattered his face with kisses, you'd worked up the courage to ask how long he'd be home. 

“It's only eight hours, I have a plane later tonight to catch back to Milwaukee. But I figured a few hours is better than seeing your face on a screen.” 

“It's so much better Pato,” you murmur and steal another kiss. You can't help it; you're addicted to him and have been in withdrawal for far too long. “I missed you so fucking much.” 

“Trust me, I missed you more.” Pato nudges your jaw with his nose. You understand his request and tip your head to give him full access to your neck, letting any thoughts of that very important work project that had to be finished this week float away on the breeze. 

If you only had eight hours with your man, you were going to make the most of them. 

“Upstairs,” you breathe, fingers tangling in his freshly styled hair. “Now, Pato.”

“Ma'am yes ma'am.”

**********

After spending a few hours wrapped up in each other, Pato had finally convinced you to go out to lunch with him. He'd picked your dress, a burnt orange satin number with thin straps and a slit up the leg that nearly went to your hip.

With Pato dressed in a charcoal quarter zip that's shamefully unzipped and his hair fluffed just how you like it, it's a miracle you've made it through the first course without jumping him. Because with that much of his neck on display and the proof of your earlier fun poking out from under the collar, it's taking every ounce of willpower to keep from dragging him out of this fancy restaurant and begging him to put some marks of his own on you. 

"My eyes are up here hermosa." 

"Hmm? Oh- no I know Pato, sorry! I just got distracted." Pato shifts to allow more skin to show. His smirk tells you he knows exactly what he's doing.

“I seem to distract you a lot don't I? Like before when I got home and you were working on that project…” Pato swipes his index finger through the pasta sauce on his plate and licks it clean. Thoughts swirl in your head like mist, though the only one that materializes is the memory of where those fingers had been an hour ago.

“Uh… sure…” 

“Not doing yourself much justice here, are you?” Pato tips his head, brown eyes warm and sparkling. “Good thing you're cute- you're not a very good conversation partner when your head is up on mars.”

“Well maybe if you wouldn't be so hot all the time,” you mumble, spearing pasta on your fork. “It would make my life a lot easier. Then maybe I could get through a meal without losing my train of thought.”

Pato's cute little dimples are on full display when he smiles. Your stomach does flips as if you're back in high school sitting across from your crush. It's crazy how he still has that effect on you now. You'd once worried that the spark would fade and you'd get bored of each other. Now though, you're positive that it's still as alive and hot as the day you met. 

“We both know you don't mean that. These,” Pato taps one of the bruises on his neck, “are proof that you love me just how I am.”

“Yeah well, all I'm saying is once in a while you could show me some mercy, you know? You c-could-” you stutter when Pato's hand meets your knee. Hidden under the table and exposed by the slit in your dress, his thumb moves over your smooth skin whilst his eyes remain trained on you. 

“Hermosa? Everything alright?” Pato smiles sweetly as his hand slides halfway up your thigh. Now you know why he asked for the tiniest table tucked away in the corner. Considering Pato's smug grin, his public torture is having the desired effect. 

“I'm- I'm fine Pato. Perfectly fine.” You clear your throat and shift in your seat so that you're out of his reach. For a split second, you feel guilty when Pato frowns. But instead of giving up, he ups the ante. Pato simply moves his own chair so that he can replace his hand exactly where it was. You should've known he wouldn't let you get away so easily; Pato isn't one to be deterred. 

“Actually,” you purr, laying your hand on his arm, “it would be better if you could let me finish eating in peace.”

“Mmm let me think about it.” Pato drums His fingers on your thigh and purses his lips. You both know the answer before the, “no,” leaves his lips. 

You huff and curl your fingers so your nails dig into his sweater. “This isn't fair Pato. I can't do anything to you, and you're set on torturing me.”

“I think the solution is simple.” When you stare at him blankly, Pato shrugs. “Finish your meal. The quicker you finish eating, the quicker we can get home, yeah?” Pato's wink is accompanied by a dip of his hand between your thighs, there and gone. As quick as it is, his touch is still enough to leave you scrambled. 

“Just pay the bill. I'm done eating.”

“But I ordered dessert-” 

“And I’ll be the dessert as long as you get me home in the next twenty minutes.” a mischievous glint dances in Pato’s eyes. His hand stays exactly where it is whilst the server retrieves the tab. Pato takes one look at it and leaves cash on the table, not bothering with change. 

Pato makes it home with three minutes to spare, and as promised, makes you his dessert. 

[lillified]

I just found the decepticons (and you) on YouTube so sorry if you've answered this

How long did it take you to complete the 1st episode and do you have any idea when you'll have the next one, it's insane this is just a passion project and that I'm seeing all these comics and art prints still being posted take a billion years if you want just wondering if you had any timeline for yourself

hi! uhhh it’s kind of hard to like. calculate the hours spent because the different areas of production were all done at different times, and this has all been a weekend project for me… but I’ve tried to retroactively keep track of when about I started doing certain things (more below the cut)

I started writing scripts about a year ago, though I didn’t really dedicate serious time to it. I wanted to have a few mini “arcs” plotted before I started planning production on the pilot, mostly because it took time to figure out what rooms I wanted in the spaceship, what I’d need to set up and hint at, etc., although everything about those scripts was and continues to change well into production. I got a “test sequence” done (scene 2 with Starscream) sometime in the middle of the year, realized I needed to adjust some designs, got really caught up with work, did a little bit of misc work on scene 3 with Soundwave… and then in August 2024 I started on scene 1 (originally scene 5), which I anticipated would take the longest. this is around when I’d say I got really serious about it lol.

still on my weekend schedule I spent about 2 months (!!) on and off on just that scene, and probably a month of that was mostly spent fiddling with one shot in particular. that scene was my real test run, and of every scene (with maybe the exception of scene 2) that one changed the most. I spent a lot of time experimenting with how I wanted certain stuff to play out, how I would deal with finishing scenes, what level of detail would not make me miserable, and so on. In the end I think that sequence ended up suffering a bit from a combination of my pickiness+subpar planning on my part (I love boarding action, but I’m still new to writing it) but it taught me a lot and really helped me nail down the details. after that, I was able to move much faster, and after taking a little break for myself I was able to take advantage of the holiday vacation to really kick into gear. I wrapped scene 3 in early December, did some early editing on scene 1 and 2, and then 4, 6, 5, and 7 in that order. By the time editing was done it was the end of January.

when I could dedicate a full-time work schedule to making progress things went along really quickly, and I definitely felt the most accomplished then! Really, the main limiting factor is work. Right now I have a private client assignment to finish, and until the month ends I won’t be able to do much with this project. I have plans to fund a second episode (it won’t be much—just enough for me to feel comfortable working on it full time for a few months) but knowing the process and having the material already I’m confident it wouldn’t take long! I’d love to have something for you all by summer, but we’ll have to wait and see.

Thank you for the question!

[written-with-clouds]

Under Wraps (And Bows)

Day 9/12 of Smutmas

Summary: Seonghwa surprises Hongjoong with an early gift since he is doing so well at work.

CW: Fingering, handjob, inappropriate use of christmas lights and ribbon.

AN: In my mind, i was picturing this as a continuation of Day 4. But the following years Christmas.

Finally! After nearly two months I finally had the brain power to finish this part. I have no grand reason for why it took me so long, only that I had a brief mental fog and couldn't figure out what words to use or which direction to take this. That being said, this series is going on a soft hiatus. I will come back to it eventually and as inspiration strikes, but there are other projects I am working on that I want to put more focus into.

Series Masterlist

“Seonghwa?” Hongjoong calls as he closes the apartment door. “Love? I’m home.” 

When he finally turns to face the rest of the room, he finds a note of the table next to him. 

I’m in the bedroom.  

Hongjoong slowly makes his way through the house, peeling off the outer layer of his work clothes as he goes, leaving him in only his pants and partially unbuttoned shirt. When he finally reaches the bedroom door, he finds it cracked the smallest bit. Dim lights cast the room in a multitude of colors and as Hongjoong opens the door full, he finds the source. 

In the middle of their bed is Seonghwa. He’s propped up on his elbows and looking at Hongjoong with dark, desire filled eyes.

Sparkling, multicolored string lights are artfully tied around his body and a big red ribbon wraps around his chest, forming a large bow. A second red ribbon is tied into a bow around his hips, hiding his dick from Hongjoong’s hungry gaze. 

“What’s all this?” Hongjoong husks. 

“Merry early Christmas, Joongie.” Seonghwa says lowly in response. “You’ve been performing well at work.. I thought a reward was in order.” 

Hongjoong prowls closer to the bed and places one hand around Seonghwa’s ankle. His thumb rubs soft circles against the skin as his eyes take in all of Seonghwa. The way the sharp red of the ribbon complements Seonghwa’s tanned skin, the lights that wrap around every curve of his body and decorate his skin in dots of multiple colors. 

With one sharp tug, he pulls Seonghwa towards the end of the bed, causing the older man to yelp in surprise before laughing lightly. 

“Eager, are we?” Seonghwa teases.

“You have no idea.” Hongjoong rubs the silky fabric of the ribbon between his fingers, twisting and lightly tugging at it thoughtfully. With one quick pull, the ribbon tied around Seonghwa’s waist and hips is undone and tossed aside. Hongjoong’s hands replace the fabric, splaying wide over the expanse of newly exposed skin. Seonghwa’s muscles flutter under Hongjoong’s hands and he lightly rakes his nails up and down the older man’s sides and stomach. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Hongjoong says quietly, as if talking to himself. Seonghwa’s flushed cheeks darken, the color bleeding down to his chest. “No drawing or painting will ever truly capture just how gorgeous you look.” 

Seonghwa gasps in surprise as Hongjoong ghosts the tip of his finger over his cock, his hips jerking up in a desperate attempt for more friction. Hongjoong loosely grips Seonghwa’s cock and begins to slowly stroke it. His other hand settles against Seonghwa’s hip, his thumb rubbing against the skin soothingly as the older man starts to whine. 

“Joongie…. More, please.. i-it’s not enough..” Seonghwa begs. One hand covers Hongjoong’s on his hip while the other reaches down to the hand stroking him. 

“Now who’s eager?” Hongjoong teases, smirking up at Seonghwa. 

“I can’t help it~” Seonghwa whines. His hips roll up into the loose grip of Hongjoong’s hand as he pants, “P-please… no teasing.. I-I need it” 

“What do you need?” Hongjoong asks softly. He tightens his grip and begins to properly fist Seonghwa’s cock as the older man keens, his eyes fluttering. 

“I… I want t-to feel you… inside.” Seonghwa lets out a strangled moan as Hongjoong rubs his thumb over the slit of Seonghwa’s cock. 

Hongjoong’s other hand slides up the length of Seonghwa’s body, stopping momentarily to play with one of his nipples before continuing. 

“Open.” He orders . When Seonghwa complies, Hongjoong sticks his ring and middle finger into Seonghwa’s mouth. He rubs them against Seonghwa’s tongue, fucking the digits into the older man’s mouth. Once his fingers are thoroughly slick with saliva, Hongjoong removes them from Seonghwa’s mouth and brings them down to rub circles over Seonghwa’s rim. 

Seonghwa whines, high pitched and needy, at the feeling of both fingers slowly pushing into him. His hips rock down, trying to push more of the fingers inside. Hongjoong chuckles and curls his fingers up, brushing against Seonghwa’s prostate. 

Seonghwa’s body jerks, a moan getting caught in his throat as his back arches off the bed. Hongjoong focuses on the bundle of nerves, relishing in the feeling of the older man twitching around his fingers. 

“Joong,” Seonghwa says breathlessly before continuing between gasping moans. “Joong… stop…mmmh.. I’m.. ah fuck.. I’m close.” 

Hongjoong doesn’t answer him verbally, just speeds up his fingers, properly fucking into Seonghwa. Seonghwa chokes on a moan, his eyes screwing shut and his hands blindly search for something to grab before settling on the bed sheets. 

“Too much!” Seonghwa whines, head rolling from side to side as his chest heaves unsteadily. “I can’t… mmgh.. too much, I’m gonna cum..” 

He continues babbling nonsensically as Hongjoong’s other hand closes around his dick and strokes him in earnest. It isn’t long after that Seonghwa’s body tenses and white streaks paint his stomach, a strangled gasp accompanying his orgasm. Hongjoong strokes him through it while slowing his fingers before pulling out completely. 

He runs his hand soothingly over Seonghwa’s thigh as the older man comes down from his high. After wiping the drying cum from his hand with the sheets, Hongjoong crawls back up the bed and plants a kiss on Seonghwa’s forehead. 

“Did you like your gift?” Seonghwa asks tiredly as Hongjoong covers them both with a blanket. 

“I did, very much.” Hongjoong pulled Seonghwa against him. “Will the rest of my gifts be like this?”

Seonghwa laughs, playfully shoving Hongjoong away only to yelp as Hongjoong pinches his butt. Hongjoong silences Seonghwa’s laughter by leaning down and kissing his lips. 

Pulling away, Seonghwa smiles dreamily at Hongjoong and places one more quick peck on the others lips before settling his head on Hongjoong’s chest.

“Love you,” Seonghwa says, his words breaking off into a yawn. 

“I love you too.. now get some rest.” Hongjoong replies quietly, petting a hand through Seonghwa’s hair.

Series Masterlist

[infiniteeight8]

Oh, look at me popping into your prompts. Completely unexpected, I'm sure.

Some more enemies-to-lovers? I'm just vibrating in my chair in anticipation for how this is going to develop.

Such a surprise to see this one get prompted. 😂 All kidding aside, I am glad for it, because I’m rather pleased with my plan for it! There are at least three more ficlets to go after this one. Maybe four? It depends a little bit. (I know I said at least four in part 4, and this is part 6, but I also said then that maybe 5 or 6 would be better… We can all see where I landed on that now. LOL.)

Behind the cut because this is a long one.

-

Tony peers over the shoulders of the two apprentices Stephen gave him to work on the digitization project. One of them, Sarah, is carefully scanning the yellowed pages of a book while the other, Kenzo, works on cleaning up and validating pages from a previous scan. “How’s it going?”

Sarah looks up at him and smiles. “Good! This is my third book today.”

“And no stubborn ones so far,” Kenzo adds.

Magic books, it turns out, can resist being digitized. Tony and Sangita are trying to figure out why, but it’s not a high priority since there are thousands of books in the library and they’ve scanned less than a hundred and completed the files for only a fraction of them. Besides, convincing Stephen that an air-gapped computer was just as safe as a locked and warded library—safer, with Tony’s protections added—had been hard enough without adding in what the books thought about it.

“Excellent,” Tony says aloud. “When you—”

Between one word and the next, Tony is translocated out of the lab. “—finish— What the hell?” He swallows whatever words might have come next when he registers Stephen sitting on a bed in front of him, shirtless and swathed in bandages. They’re spotted with blood and Stephen looks pale and exhausted. There are two Masters standing over him, casting some sort of spell. “Are you okay? What happened?” Tony asks, stepping forward and reaching out to touch before dropping his hand.

“Tony?” Stephen blinks and looks at the Masters. “Did you call him?”

They don’t answer, intent on their tasks, but Tony suspects he has the answer. “I think the Sanctum brought me here on its own. Stephen. What happened?” It occurs to him, once the words are out, that he might not want the answer. What if it was the Avengers? Tony hasn’t been following the news. Not lately.

Stephen sighs. “Mordo. He was leading an attack in Hong Kong. We’ve turned him back, but it was a… difficult battle.”

Tony’s stomach feels tight, his nerves jangling. “Casualties?” he asks.

“Four cases of magical exhaustion,” Stephen says. “Two minor injuries.” When he stops, Tony raises an eyebrow and Stephen rolls his eyes. “And me, obviously. Mordo got me with a slashing spell; I’ll be fine, I’ve been seen by doctors and healers.”

Tony pulls up a stool and sits, then has to take a minute when he realizes that shaky feeling is relief. “Why are you two so at each other’s throats, anyway? If you worked together, you’d have a much better chance with the Avengers.”

“Believe it or not, the Order has more in common with the Avengers than with Mordo,” Stephen says dryly. Above his head, the Masters exchange a glance, but they don’t object when Stephen goes on. Tony finds he isn’t surprised; Stephen’s people trust his judgment. “Mordo believes that mundanes—non-magical people—are incapable of governing themselves properly. He aims to create a kind of ruling class composed entirely of sorcerers and to bring the rest of the world into their control. It would be a pseudo-Feudal arrangement, as far as I’ve gathered.”

“And the Order believes in people’s right to self-determination?” Tony asks skeptically. 

Stephen snorts. “People are idiots,” he says. “They absolutely need guidance. But there are areas in which they can be permitted to make mistakes and areas in which they can’t. The Order uses a behind the scenes approach that permits maximum freedom and minimum casualties.”

Tony stirs uneasily. “But you’re still running things.” 

“When necessary.” Stephen must see how much that bothers him, because his expression softens. “Tony. If a demon from another dimension came to Earth and said, ‘Join up with me and you can have eternal life. Refuse and be consumed.’, would trust humanity to put it to a vote, or would you just do what was necessary to banish the demon?”

“That not—” Tony stopped, taking in the absolute evenness of Stpehen’s expression, “—a random example, is it? That actually happened.” 

“Yes.” The two Masters finish what they’re doing and Stephen nods briefly at them before they depart, leaving Stephen and Tony alone. “The Order protects humanity just as much as the Avengers do,” Stephen says. “Sometimes, that means protecting them from themselves.”

“And sometimes that means interfering in non-magical events,” Tony says, because the Avengers have tangled with the Order over a lot more than magical artifacts and dimensional visitors.

“Yes.”

Stephen is so confident. There’s no uncertainty in him at all as he meets Tony’s gaze. Tony fights down an absolutely inappropriate rush of heat at the sight of him half-dressed, wounded, and still full of strength. “So why does the Order get to be the ones to choose how to manage things?” Tony asks.

“We’ve been doing it for ten thousand years and humanity is still here,” Stephen says simply. Then he grimaces. “Granted, the advance of technology has made our job much more difficult over the last few decades. It’s so much easier for people to do so much more damage now.” He sighs.

Tony can’t help an immediate surge of sympathy. Mentally, he shoves it aside to deal with later. Maybe after he resolves the disturbing contrast between the Order’s ten thousand years of successful management and the utter shit show that has been disaster response and clean up since enhanced people arrived on the scene. And that’s just one example.

“Come on,” Tony says, helping Stephen up. “We should get you to your bed.”

“My guest room,” Stephen corrects. Tony shoots him a confused look, and then coughs and ducks his head when he remembers: he’s been sleeping in Stephen’s bed. Stephen smiles. “I’m quite satisfied with the current occupancy of my bed.”

“Oh, really? You’re giving it up that easily?” Tony says, heart racing.

Stephen smirks. “I did say current. Not future.”

“You might have a fight on your hands.”

“I’m sure a compromise can be reached.”

Tony’s mind supplies him with a vivid image of what compromise might look like.

He’s still thinking about it after he’s settled Stephen into his guest room.

[starlostastronaut]

DAY 02 | AS LUCKY AS US

PAIRING: lee felix x reader

GENRE: fluff, just pure fluff

WC: 0.80k

CW: none

PROMPT: matching bracelets

did i just describe making a bracelet in 800 words? yes, yes i did. honestly no real plot here, just a cute scene. hope you enjoy <3

title from where the lines overlap - paramore

general masterlist here

<< previous | mctc masterlist | next >>

"Can you pass me the box with the white beads?" Felix asked as soon as he heard you walk into the room. He didn’t even bother to raise his head; he was too immersed in the project he was working on. The Australian was currently sitting in the middle of your living room, leaning back into the sofa for some support. You tried to convince him to sit somewhere more comfortable (anywhere besides the floor, really), but it was to no avail. Felix claimed things were more organized and easier for him to reach if he sat on the ground. And by things, he meant the mess of boxes and beads he managed to create in your living room during the hour and a half he was there.

In hindsight, you should have probably expected this, knowing Felix for years now. But then again, who would expect a worldwide-famous kpop idol to become so intrigued by the plastic beads you once bought for when your little niece was over? So there you were, watching Felix make what was his fifth bracelet and trying to figure out the colour scheme so it wouldn't collide with his comeback stage outfits. He had decided to make matching couple bracelets to wear at all times. The only problem was his current comeback period, which meant he had to be careful with choosing his jewelry if he wanted to convince the stylists to let him keep it for the stage. Fortunately for Felix, he managed to bribe one of the stylists to tell him the planned colour schemes for the next few stages.

As you picked up the box he wanted and passed it to him, you couldn’t help but smile. There was something so endearing about the way his eyes sparkled with excitement upon being handed the white beads. It was something so simple, but seeing Felix happy was all the reason needed for you to be happy as well.

“Move over.” You gently nudged his shoulder, and Felix detached himself from the sofa to make room for you. The second you made yourself comfortable, he was leaning back again, this time into your chest. Your arms automatically circled his waist and pulled him even closer, keeping a firm but gentle grip on him. Your chin found its resting place on Felix’s shoulder, and for a while, you just watched him work in silence.

When Felix had almost finished the bracelet, he held it up to look at the colours. “No… This isn't working. Something is wrong…” he mumbled to himself as he inspected the arrangement of beads. Even though you couldn't see his face from your position, you knew he had his “thinking face” on - lips pursed together and eyes focused only on the problem at hand. 

“Maybe try the dark blue instead of the light?” you suggested. The light blue was softer and more blended in with the white, thus making it harder to spot on stage. However, pairing a light and a dark colour has always worked out well, and personally, you liked the contrast that such combinations created.

Felix hummed, thinking about your idea. He began taking apart the bracelet until there was a single white bead left on the string. Then he made you hand him another box so he could start putting together a new bracelet. You noticed the pattern he was creating was different; he used more white beads than on the last design. You guessed it was because the bracelet needed to be as unnoticable as possible in order to not get taken away by stylists. 

For a while, you stayed in silence, accompanied only by Felix's quiet rendition of some Sam Smith song. You laid your head on his shoulder, simply enjoying being close to him like this. Not that you didn't get enough physical contact; in fact, both you and your boyfriend were more than willing to hug everything that breathed. It was usually Felix cuddling you, though, not the other way around. It felt nice to hold him in your arms for a change. It was like a reminder that this personification of sunshine and happiness was yours, and that made you feel all warm and content.

When Felix finished his bracelet, he excitedly showed you. “You were right, it looks much better." He smiled and turned his head to give you a quick thank-you kiss. He immediately began working on the second bracelet, slightly changing the pattern so it fits better with your style, but only so much to be clear that the bracelets are matching. 

A few days later, you scrolled through your social media, seeing hundreds of STAYs making theories about Felix’s new accessory. With a certain sense of pride, your eyes fell to your wrist, where was a bracelet designed to match Felix’s.

taglist: @stayconnecteed @saintriots @vivioluh

©starlostastronaut 2023 | do not repost/translate my work without permission

[jugglingjujube]

WIP parade!!!

I might do this every Sunday because it's good to remember what's on the needles. No promises though because I am trying to do less arbitrary deadlines. So! In order of my knitting priority:

Grey Kirigami

She's back!!! I need to reknit the yoke so I've been doing that the past few days. This will be my first FO in 2025 because I want to wear her so bad.

Double Knit Gradient Scarf

I just found this while I was cleaning out a closet. It's probably like 6 years old? So I figure it should be finished

Homegrown Sweater

I'm calling this my Homegrown Sweater because that's what the yarn colourway is called but the pattern is the Tolsta Tee by the Creabea. I also frogged this yarn from another sweater so it's not new new either.

Westknits MKAL 2024: Go Go Dynamo

Yes this is still on the needles and yes I am still on clue 3. It's a really fun knit, but it takes a long time and i need to pay attention.

Fifth House Folklore Cardigan

I forgot about this several times since finishing the back. It's hard to work on because it's cables i need to see on darker yarn (it's brown but it looks red in every picture). I'll probably cast on the fronts soon

Sweater for my Dad

Last December in a fit of hubris I thought I could make a sweater for my dad for Christmas. And then I just didn't do that. So this will maybe be picked up again next fall.

THINGS I NEED TO DO

I don't need more cast ons, but I need some fun colours (aside from my temperature blanket which is another post). I have the yarn for a deep green Lento which will be fast so I'm casting that on next. Also I forgot to share my project from my advent calendar in here so that'll be a separate post. It doesn't look like much right now anyway

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

Asylum Challenge: Day 12

(Nothing to see here - just Vlad very excitedly browsing through Trendi by the looks of his current get-up)

This was the first of three days where Wicked Whims... kind of got out of hand until everyone figured out what they were into, I guess 🤔. Also I realised that I'd set the lot to the FLIRTY trait for one day and forgot about it which was... a chaotic combination to put it mildly.

So while nothing explicit will be shown, just something to keep in mind, I guess?

Look at her, look at her, she's no good at yoga. I had considered a Spa Day pack aspiration, since Lilac will likely need the inner peace going forward, but then I saw how grindy they all were.

So... Lady of the Knits!

Level One: Humble Knitter

❌ Knit for 5 Hours (2/5) ❌ Start 3 Knitting Projects While Inspired (0/3) ✅ Knit on a Rocking Chair

No, she isn't Whims related below the waist - it's just flesh toned underwear. (I had to take a second look too.)

Another early riser (easy for someone who doesn't need to go to bed) was Vlad. Along with Rory. The two... well, one occult heavyweight, and one tissueweight, actually managed to have a civil moment, perhaps with music loving Rory appreciating Vlad's skill on the piano.

Oh wait, L. is up. There goes the ceasefire, if not the entire neighbourhood.

Meanwhile the Roswells had a moment over breakfast. Could a GOOD traited Sim and her EVIL husband ever make their marriage work? Now that they're played Sims, apparently not.

While Lilac took a THOUGHTFUL SHOWER to get those creative juices flowing (takes on a whole new meaning with this mod 😬), Jacques woke up in a sad mood thanks to those voices in his head.

Clearly whatever leftover gourmet dish that Raj made the night before was the only cure.

Meanwhile Ted apparently tried to enlist Vlad in order to sway Meredith over to their EVIL ways, but as Vlad was seemingly more interested in having Ted's opinion on his potential Trendi buys, it wasn't working. Thanks to their POSSESSED late night strolls and chats, Ted is the one person in the household other than Lilac who has a positive relationship with Vlad.

As unlike L., for the most part Vlad is actually trying to be cordial to most of the household, the Watcher does lowkey feel sorry for him about this.

THOUGHTFUL SHOWER did the trick, and Lilac was able to start her three inspired knitting projects! Since that glitch where you can't resume projects is still hanging around, she wasn't able to finish them, but we'll take any loophole that we can get.

Rory started a new freelance career as a programmer (great way to work on her handiness too being a werewolf I guess 👍) while Meredith apparently didn't get the memo that On Wednesdays, We Do Crafting Hour.

Lilac kindly pointed out that mixology with the globe bar just over there would count as a creative skill. Perhaps as a result of her less than stellar relationship with Ted, Meredith appears to have decided that yes, actually a drink sounds real good right about now.

Ted literally could have gone and done anything else in the house, but instead he goes and plays Road Warrior or whatever near where Rory is trying to work, and freaks out because he's next to a transformed woof-woof. I don't think that Rory's the problem here...

Raj seemingly did not appreciate the Watcher telling him to make himself useful and to take out the trash.

It must have frozen over in Tartosa and the gameplay hell that is the My Wedding Stories pack, because L. was actually nice to Lilac! Oh right, the Watcher got her to 'scope the surroundings,' and Lilac is apparently 'very attractive' to her too.

The Watcher set the one person in the household who doesn't need to eat on the task of cooking dinner, mainly so that he's close by so that I can cancel his autonomously eating it when he has the vampire weakness where food makes him sick. Because he has a knowledge related aspiration, he's actually at a decent culinary level.

Looks like L.'s niceness allotment for the year is about to expire.

Ted and Jacques were impressed with Raj's alleged unaliving of a workplace rival, offered to recruit him to the round table of villainy. He said that he's good, thank you.

Yup, L.'s niceness streak aged like warm milk. And a reminder that she thinks Lilac is hot too!

While Vlad wisely stayed out of things by doing the dishes (he acquired the NEAT trait at some point, which is very useful to have in the household's vampire), Rory must have taken issue with L.'s meanness, because next minute they went outside, Rory was walking in with a spring in her step and L. was bruised and battered.

Just how long is it going to take these apparent occult geniuses to learn not to forbidden word with Rory?

Lilac must have been especially appreciative of her shieldmaiden in furry armour, because well. This was the one animation it was safe to show you. In fairness, it's a pretty cute one.

In less exciting news, Lilac is now on the second stage of the Knitting aspiration.

Level Two: Thread Setter

❌ Achieve Level 4 of the Knitting Skill (3/4) ❌ Knit While Listening to Music ❌ Sell a Knitted Object on Plopsy

My head is feeling full and gluggy so I may post the next couple of days in a few hours.

[imagineanime2022]

Your Beautiful

Ayame Sohma X Reader

Word Count: 1744

Requested: @twilightlover2007

Request: I'd love to see Ayame with a plus size bookwormish girlfriend who is a little (or a lot) self conscious about what she wears and Aya will have NONE of that. Perhaps he designs a dress just for her to surprise her and make her see herself as he does. Please and thank you!!

Ayame had known you since you were in school, you never really crossed paths though, considering his more popular status and your more quiet disconnection from the popular scene. Ayame had always wanted to talk to you but never found the right time, everytime he shared a room with you people flocked to him and all he could do was watch you from afar. When you did talk to someone your eyes cast down to the floor and voice softer than silk. He watched you from afar as it seemed to blossom in your own environment, only catching his eye every now and again, eyes flitting back to the floor or book you were holding when you realised that he was looking right back at you.

Ayame remembered the first time that he was alone with you, you had both been paired for a project, you knowledge on the subject was immense and while you claimed that it only came from the books that you read, the fact that you had finished a book impressed him all the same, especially since at that age you wouldn’t find him sitting still for anyone. This was also the first time that he got an inkling for the way that you felt about yourself, he had at first assumed that you just didn’t like the uniform which was why you seemed so uncomfortable in it, and in most ways he was right. When you weren’t dressed in your uniform there was not that was shown off to the world, you covered your body in baggy clothes he assumed to hide it, though he never asked. Now he thought that those clothes were cute, he loved coming over to work on the project to see you curled up in the large oversized jumper, legging clad legs tucked under you and out of sight but he did look forward to the school days as well, those were the days that he could really appreciate the figure that you hide so often,

After leaving school he lost contact with you for a long while, that is until he opened his shop, he was looking for a supplier of fabrics and stumbled across your small business, he recognised you immediately if not for your appearance but the book tucked under your arm and the way that your eyes flitted to the floor the same as when you were both kids. “Still have trouble looking people in the eye it seems.” He joked, your eyes widened as you looked up at him. “You remember me?” You asked. “Of course, we’ve not been out of school that long, and he had almost every class together.” He reminded you. “Well no but, I’m no one important-” “Nonsense dear, you are just as important as the next person, not to mention you’ll be the one providing the materials I need for my shop… Can I count on you for that?” He asked. “O-of course.” You nodded. “Perfect.” He smiled softly “now could I trouble you to run me through what you have available at the moment?” “It’s no trouble.” You informed him as you ushered him through the shops going through everything that you had, what was easier to get and what was a little harder to acquire given your location, Ayame need anything further he pitched a partnership to get both your businesses off the ground, you accepted much to his excitement and that was where you found yourself now.

You made your way into his shop sample tiles stowed away in a small bag, he had informed you that he was working on a new project and all he needed was for you to bring over your favourite materials, you walked in at the same time as some other customers, one of them barging passed you to get to the counter, you stumbled slightly clutching the sample squares to your chest as you tried to balance yourself “Move.” She ordered. “S-sorry.” You mumbled stepping out of her way, falling back into an old habit of looking at the floor. “Why would you be here, it’s not like you could wear anything that Ayame makes.” The girl sneered as her eyes snagged on the sample squares assuming you were a customer. “S-sorry I’ll just-” “Now what is it that you are apologising for my sweet dove?” You jumped at the sound of Ayame as he stood behind you, when you didn’t say anything you felt him lean down “I’m talking to you dear.” You gave a small embarrassed squeak at the proximity before stuttering out an answer. “I-I, they are your customers you should see to them.” You finally managed to say, he looked at the girls and waved her away. “She’s no customer of mine.” Ayame answered. “You can’t-” “I won’t have you supplying materials for someone who treats you this way and I won’t be sourcing my materials anywhere else.” He explained. “Ayame you can’t-” “I can.” He answered firmly, the group looked at him in shock before being escorted out of the shop. “Ayame, they were paying customers, you can’t do that!” You scolded him, he just smiled down at you. “I own this shop, I can do what I want. I have enough paying customers to turn away those who don’t deserve my service.” He waved you off, dragging you towards the back room gesturing for you to sit on the sofa. “So show me what you’ve brought.” “I brought a couple of options, you know since you didn’t really give me any direction, who is the client this time anyway?” You asked. “That doesn’t matter, she has very similar taste to you, I think that she will love whatever you choose, so of these three which do you like the most?” He asked. You looked at the three samples that you had picked out, one subtle in design and colour, another a little more chaotic but still softly coloured and the last calmer in design but the colours were a little more flashy, you pointed to your favourite one and he nodded as he held it up. “I like this, this will work.” “Are you going to show me what you are working on?” You asked, he smiled and shook his head. “You will see it when it’s finished.” He promised “Now that the business is out of the way, how are you?” He changed the subject, stirring away from work and into more casual conversation.

It was a couple months later Ayame rushed into your shop, you had been restocking the shelves after an eventful first half to the day, you turned expecting a customer and some ways you weren’t wrong but when you looked at him you knew that there was something wrong. “Ayame are you okay? What’s wrong?” You asked, he reached behind him turning the sign on your door to ‘closed’ before pulling you into the back room, it was then that you realised that he was holding something. “Ayame?” “(Y/N).” He said as he turned to look at you, you frowned when you noticed the tears gathering in his eyes. “Your acting weird what’s-” You were cut off by him pulling you into a tight hug, it almost felt like he had been waiting years to do this but that couldn’t have been true, there was nothing stopping him from doing it years ago if that was what he wanted. “Ayame?” “I’ve waited so long to do that.” He admitted and that caused you to truly frown. “I don’t understand.” You decided that admitting it would be easier than trying to figure it out on your own. “I know, I’m sorry but just know that I’ve wanted to do this for years.” He said into your shoulder before finally letting you go, “I have something to give you.” “Give me?” You asked. “Mmm.” He hummed holding up the bag that he had walked in with, you took it from him and looked inside, you recognised the material as the sample that you had picked out months ago. “I thought this was for a client. Why are you giving it to me… Did they not like it?” You asked. “Take it out.” He prompted, you lifted the absolutely stunning clothing set out of the bag. The top was form fitting and the bottom to go with it would sit snugly on your hips and shoe off the shaping of your legs perfectly. “Do you like it?” “It's a beautiful set.” You answered. “Then they liked it, will you try it on for me?” He asked. “T-try it on?” You asked. “I know that you are going to look ravishing.” He said holding the set in front of your body as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Even if you only ever wear it for me, know that you are safe to wear whatever you want and try whatever you want, I just want to see you.” “It won’t be as exciting as you think, I’m not like the other girls.” You answered and he shook his head. “I don’t want you to be like the others, I want you to be comfortable, I want to show you that are beautiful and you always have been whether you dressed down for a days work-” he pulled the outfit away from you to show you the outfit you were wearing “-or dressed up.” He offered you the outfit again and you took his from his hand walking to the bathroom to get changed. You cleared your throat when you walked out causing him to look over at you, the smile that split his face was genuine as he held up his phone snapping a picture before turning it to show you. “That’s me?” It sounded like a question even to you. “That’s you and you are beautiful.” He said softly, hugging you again “please give me the chance to prove it to you.” “You are doing a great job so far.” You smiled. “I’m far from done my dear.” He promised pressing a kiss to your cheek, he knew that he wasn’t going to change you overnight, you could tell by the way that he looked at you, he was proud of you for even putting the new outfit on and it was then that you decided that you would be happy seeing that look for the rest of you life, if he’d allow it.

Request Here!!

[yzafre]

Rise Magic Watch - Battle Nexus New York

God this episode is. SO fucking good. The first half is hilarious, the back-half is an epic fight scene, I just. Amazing.

So. What magic do we see? Well, first, the active, extensive use of the thing that's been stealing the villains this season.

Terrifying. And hey - nice ring, too!

Though, this is possibly the nicest prison you could be in.

"I know this mind-pacifying magic!" Yes, Draxum. Yes, you do. Your villainy has come back to bite you.

They talk a little about how it works - that there's a membrane containing this pocket dimension they have to crack through - which is done by the figure Big Mama is ordering aobut.

To skip ahead and finish off talking about this artifact in particular, the way Draxum tries to open it is interesting.

It looks like he types in a code, which removes a layer of protection allowing him to... do something? He was twisting, so either trying to open or - maybe hinted by those lines around it - try to put in a second code like a padlock?

Let's see, more magic in the first half before we get to the fight scene....

Every time I think I need to just drop the "blue is teleporting" thing, there's more blue involved in teleporting. I know it's bogus, and yet I can't help but wish. Also, the floating dots are different, remind me of the purple effects around the bounty hunters' equipment.

....why. How?

Thennnn.... let's talk about magic screens, and what type of magic they are.

Okay, so. Big Mama being visible so the turtles can see her gloating is one thing. But why do you need all the other screens with the viewers? Or are they more like... windows? For the viewers to see through? Draxum does something similar, breaking through to let them see outside their pocket-prison...somehow.

I'm not sure how this works.

The people they're fighting are all interesting, but I want to focus on the snake-things, and their ending.

Ignoring the obvious ouroboros reference - despite the different colors, they way they disappear, curling in on themselves, reminds me a lot of Mayhem's poofing? Not sure what to make of that.

Anyways. FIGHT TIME.

From the Shredder's entrance, we know he's powerful. He breaks through Raph's projection just from the force of his landing. That really sets the perspective. Throughout the fight, we continue to see him break things just from the after-shocks of his hits, even when they don't land.

But then... then we get to see how far these boys have come. And it's glorious.

Look at that! Starting off with a combo-attack?

Bus! Bus! Bus! Bus! And just look at the length of those chains.

Donnie's also darting in and out in streaks of purple which are very beautiful, but it's not magic, so.

I immediately make myself a hypocrite, because this move is ALSO not magic, but like. It's the first time I remember Leo throwing his sword like this and it will soon become VERY relevant.

Gahhh, LOOK at them! They're just so competent and smooth with their mystic abilities now! And Donnie has April's mystic-powered bat inside his weapon? Adorable?? And look at Leo, predicting his opponent's move and using his portals to turn it against him. I just!!!

TEAM ATTACK x4!!!! Look at them go!!!

We get Splinter using Leo's sword again - in a very interesting way.

Another depiction of the sword being thrown, this time with Leo watching as it's also making a portal while in motion... hm.

And finally....

Rather than any of the instances with Big Mama, I think this picture sums up the ring-collar connection most concisely. Commands are issued through the ring, received by the collar, which then affect the victim - as depicted through the glowing eyes.

Based on the behavior scene here, it seems to put the victim completely under with no mind of their own. The Shredder was pretty mindless in this state to begin with, but we don't see any kind of struggle, implicating a complete mind-control.

Up next is the finale which will probably have to come in several parts. See you then!

[storiesofsvu]

Solace in Solitude Ch 7

Eventual Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, alcohol, nicotine and weed consumption, mentions of trauma/death, nightmares & anxiety. Yup!! She is back y'all!! Let's just say I got very bored of writing for bingo, things are not very Christmasey around here so I decided to try and finish this entire thing by New Year's. Now, i doubt that'll happen, but i'm still aiming for a chapter per day meaning 4-5 more chapters by NYE which honestly is just under what I have planned for this series. I wanted this one to be better, I can't lie, but in the new year we will move on to a new series and it will be wonderful! Happy Holidays!!

Emily kept her braids in until the next time her hair needed to be washed, if you had said anything she would say it was purely out of convenience and nothing else. But she knew that she actually liked it, she felt as if a new style was something that would help her move on to a new phase of life, not to mention you were a wizard when it came to braiding her slowly growing bangs into the braids and keeping them off her face. A new, different look was her way of leaning into Valerie, making herself more comfortable with the idea of everything and sticking around Paris while she waited for it to all come to an end.

She finally had enough energy to get out of the apartment, making it down the block to the corner store to pick up a few things. You’d been working later and longer hours, mentioning something about picking up a new research project in passing one day (that or you were hiding at the hospital, she wasn’t entirely sure). Thanks to that, things around the apartment had started to get a little on the lacking side when it came to chores. Emily didn’t mind, she spent most of the time in her room anyway and she could always get food delivered. But she did feel a bit bad if she wasn’t contributing at all, especially considering the last time she washed her hair you wordlessly braided it without her even having to ask.

So she’d began using her daily out of the house walks to not only get some more energy and strength back, but to pick up a few things for the apartment. Some days it was food, others coffee and she’d taken up the habit of replacing the flowers in the living room whenever they started to wilt. It was another small change in her routine that was helping her feel more human once again and she was finally starting to get comfortable being outside and not being completely on edge the entire time. She used the time to start upping her profiling skills again, the city streets of Paris the perfect place to grab a cup of coffee and people watch. She didn’t really care if she was correct with her hypothesises, it got her brain working again and she felt bad whenever she caught herself profiling you at home.

That didn’t mean she couldn’t tell that you were getting more tired with each day that went by, mentally drained by living the life you hadn’t chosen. She knew that one all too well at this point. So she did her best to keep the apartment in order without overworking herself and keeping out of your way, which in the long run was benefitting her too.

Currently Emily was out on the balcony, her usual home for the time in the evenings when you overlapped and her second favourite place to people watch from. The sun had already began its decent, the sky painted with colours of teal and purple when she heard the door open and shut inside the apartment. Her eyes flicked to the cigarette in her hand, wondering if she should stub it out before you saw it but figured she was already ratted out by the scent wafting through the air, not to mention the half pack of butts in the ash tray. She took another drag of it, watching a family of three on the street below her, the girl in between her parents, a hand holding each of them as she skipped her way down the sidewalk and her lips curved up into a brief grin. The thought of setting out on a nice family adventure on a Friday night, her imagination took hold, ideas flowing through her brain about the multitude of places they could be headed.

She was broken out of the daydream by the sound of you quite literally kicking off your shoes and throwing your bag into your room. The tell tale sign of what she first thought was the fridge opening, the sound of ice cubes being dumped into a glass proving her wrong, that you’d gone for the freezer instead, the glug of the high end bourbon you’d stashed in the pantry flowing into her ears next. She thought the next sound would be the closing of your bedroom door as you disappeared for the night and nearly jumped when you stepped out onto the balcony beside her, swiping the back of cigarettes from the small table. It happened so fast she couldn’t even let out a noise of objection before you spoke, snagging the lit cigarette from practically between her lips.

“Give me that.” You muttered.

“I- hey!” She groaned, her brow furrowing when she looked up at you to find you using her smoke to light your own, the pack already back on the table.

Before she could fully process what was going on her cigarette was back between her fingers and you were dropping into the empty chair, a heavy sigh escaping your lips as you sunk even deeper into it. She let silence overtake the balcony so you could use the time to decompress, shift from your doctor self into your home self and no doubt relax a little bit. She finished her smoke, stubbing it out in the ash tray not long after you’d lit yours. She debated going back inside but felt like her skin was still itching, desperate for more nicotine so without even glancing in your direction she picked up the pack, pulling the lighter from her pocket to light a second one while she prepared for the nagging she was about to receive. Instead you simply took another drag, shoulders sagging as smoke slipped from your lips into the cooling night air.

“Nothing, really?” She couldn’t help herself, nearly laughing as she pocketed the lighter, “I thought you of all people would be coming out here to lecture me about the dangers of smoking.”

You let out a scoff of a laugh, “it’s fucking France, everyone smokes.” Your eyes flicked down to the ash tray and your lips curved into a frown, “I won’t lecture you but you might wanna slow down on how many you have per day.”

“Not exactly like I have much else to do.”

“Yeah well, find a hobby or something.” You took another drag, “there’s a bakery two streets over with the best stuff in the city. You could make your walks longer.”

“Hmm.” Emily replied, the acknowledgement that she had been leaving the house and helping out was all either of you needed to discuss on the matter. You weren’t in the mood to be the rule maker right now, that was very clear.

Silence took over the balcony once more and as much as she didn’t mean to, Emily’s eyes flickered over to you, examining your body language, her profiler gears turning. You looked even more mentally tired than you had the last time she’d seen you, not that there were bags under your eyes, but the look of utmost defeat within them. You sunk down so deep into the chair, pulling your legs up into it, curling around yourself as if to protect yourself from the outside world. Your gaze lingered on the skyline, not daring to dart down to the street where people occasionally milled below and every drag of the cigarette between your fingers was long, deep, like someone who desperately needed a more intense vice they hadn’t indulged in in years.

“Rough day?” She finally asked, her voice soft, quiet enough you could ignore it if you wanted to.

“Yeah.” You replied, flicking the ash off your smoke while you glanced down, sighing heavily. “Lost a patient.” Emily watched as your staring contest with the sky ended and your eyes flitted through the street beneath you, “little girl, couldn’t have been more than eight. Came in ‘cause she fell off her bike, complaining of arm pain, admitting doctor said she was wearing a helmet and the initial exam was clear. She was alert, talkative, just the cutest fucking thing, reminded me a lot of my sister at that age. We figured it was a broken arm and were waiting for the x-ray line up to clear up to confirm.” You took a heavy breath, a long drag of your smoke and Emily knew the twist was coming, “turned out the Dad was lying to Mom about the helmet, he didn’t want to get in trouble for not enforcing the rules, thought it didn’t matter that the poor girl bonked her head. We didn’t catch the brain bleed in time…” You trailed off, your eyes glassy as they returned to the sky.

“I’m so sorry…” Emily whispered and you shook your head,

“A family doesn’t come back from that. Guilt’ll eat you alive, Mom’ll likely never forgive Dad, he’ll go insane trying to right a wrong he can’t fix.”

“Can only hope he takes it out on himself and not someone else.” She muttered, shaking her own head and she instantly felt your eyes on her.

“You see a lot of that in your line of work?”

“Unfortunately, yeah.” She sighed, “something like today would be a stressor, it builds up higher and higher, fucks with your brain until you can’t take it anymore and it just sparks an explosion. He’s never gonna be able to look at another little girl on a bike again. He’ll see parents who let their kids ride without helmets as unfit, villains, could start lashing out towards them, likely verbally at first before a trigger hits. Could be divorce papers, could be the family ostracizing him, one month, six month, one year anniversary of her death, then he loses it…”

“Mmm.” In any other situation you would have been impressed by the way her brain worked, but right now all you were consumed by was grief, a weak laugh escaping through your lips as you should your head, “god we’re depressing.”

“At least you don’t have to sleep during the day.” She muttered and you let out a small laugh.

“We can adjust your meds again.” You replied before you glanced down to your smoke, your head titling before you looked up at Emily, “though there is something else we haven’t tried…. I mean, we’re already smoking.”

It took a moment for the realization to wash over her, her eyes widening when she realized what you were talking about, “is that legal here?” She whipped her phone out, hastily typing before she nearly shot you a glare, “no! It is not.”

“Oh don’t be a fucking narc,” you rolled your eyes, your voice quieting to not be overheard, “you’re not a fucking fed right now, and it’s fine if it’s medical.”

“That’s gotta be some kind of illegal abuse of your medical licence.”

“Yeah well… I wasn’t the one who shot some guy’s ear off for a threat.” You deadpanned and Emily choked on her words, grimacing as she settled back in her chair instead of trying to stop you as you stood, “a couple of puffs now, we’ll eat a late dinner, finish the joint and go to bed. If it helps you sleep, I’ll get you a prescription.”

“Fine.” She grumbled, willing to try anything at this point to get her back to a normal schedule, knowing that one day she was going to have to work through the day and sleep through the night again. She couldn’t keep this up forever.

*

You’d been the first to tap out, the exhaustion of a full work day on top of the glass of bourbon and weed, once your stomach was full, you were down for the count, saying goodnight and quickly heading to your bedroom. Emily felt fine, a little cloudy but relaxed, comforted almost and she knew it was probably not the greatest idea but she sipped on a glass of wine after you went to bed, feeling the night sink into the city. She thought nothing of it as she went through her normal nighttime routine, even though it was hours earlier, her eyes were drooping, it was at least time for a nap. She locked the balcony door behind her, washed the couple of dishes in the sink, filled up a glass of water and made sure the alarm was set. She washed her face, brushed her teeth and took whatever meds she normally did before bed and curled up under the blankets, letting out a soft sigh as she did so, sleep taking over much quicker than normal.

The major conflict being that Emily’s body was used to the new sleep schedule she’d implemented, the one that started at dawn and went ‘til dusk. Meaning it had been roughly twelve hours, not twenty four since she’d last taken her meds and even with the added weed, she’d only been awake four hours by the time you got home, there was no way it was actually bedtime for her. She could practically feel herself tossing and turning, her mind racing as images began to plague her dreams.

Though this time it wasn’t just Ian, they were at the villa, there was a weird haze over the entire thing but she was playing with Declan, wide smile on her face as he laughed while she chased him around. At first she looked like Lauren; Declan was as small as she remembered until Ian showed up and a darkness enveloped the room. She could feel her heart pounding, a gasp escaping her lips as she frantically looked around for the boy who was suddenly nowhere to be seen. Unlike the last nightmare this time it was as if she was having an out of body experience, watching the entire thing like it was a movie. She watched the fear spread across her own face as her hair darkened, became straighter, bruises started to purple up on her skin as Ian laughed at her.

“You’ll never find him. You’ll never be able to protect him.” He jeered, “he’s my boy after all. You gave up that chance, didn’t you?”

Blood started to stain her shirt, forming a circle on her lower abdomen before she let out a groan, hands shooting to the wound, trying to hold it together as red streaks began to drip down her clothing. She couldn’t help but collapse to her knees, choking on her own breath as she tried to speak, desperate to find the boy before he did.

“Declan….” She cried out.

Instead of his perfect blue eyes popping up from behind the couch, Ian’s hand wrapped around her throat, forcing her face up to his.

“He is my son.” He spat, “and nothing, not even you, will keep me from him.”

“Please!”

“Em!” A voice rang out, a hand closed around her shoulder and she could see it, the bodyless limb in her nightmare as she continued to sob. She felt like she was going to throw up, “Emily!” It repeated, this time louder, “hey! Wake up!” Her vision began to spin, blurring as the scene in front of her slowly vanished and suddenly she was jolted into her Parisian bedroom, the nightstand light on, casting a glow though the room and she realized it was your voice that was soothing her. “Hey… I’m here.. it’s okay.” You assured her, watching the way she slowly blinked to life, her chest heaving as her eyes darted around the room and she instantly shot up, shuffling back on the bed as if she was about to be hit.

“I-“ she struggled to find the words, her eyes flicking from each spot of the room that was a little too dark for comfort to the window, making sure it was shut before she felt your hand on hers, your thumb soothing across the back of it.

“You’re okay.” You repeated, “he doesn’t know where you are. You’re safe, I promise.”

She took a moment, calming her heavy breaths, not even bothering to wipe the tears away as she fought against every instinct in her to run out of the room right then. Grounding herself by the warmth of your hand on hers, the weight of your body next to her on the bed, knowing that this was reality, not the scene in her head moments prior. Once you could tell she was back on earth your free hand reached out to the nightstand, flicking through her pill bottles until you found the anti anxiety, twisting it open to hand her one.

“Here.” She took it from you, popping it under her tongue and waiting for it to dissolve. “You’ll feel better in a bit, get some rest.” You began to shift from the bed, knowing how much she hated when you even attempted to coddle her and she let out an uncharacteristic whimper, her hand instantly tightening in yours.

“Wait!” You were halfway standing when you turned back to her, frowning at the tears blurring in her eyes, “stay… please? Just for now.”

“Okay.” You shot her a weak smile, shifting back onto the bed, your heart sinking at the way the tears were still leaking over her cheeks, the way her body would occasionally shake in fear. Whatever tonight’s nightmare had been about was clearly affecting her more than the last one. You adjusted the blankets, making sure they were wrapped around her, and covering you enough you wouldn’t get cold and you were taken aback at the way she nearly collapsed against you, holding onto you as if you were the only thing keeping her from slipping back into another nightmare. “Hey…” you squeezed at her softly, “talk to me… please.”

“Thought you weren’t a shrink.” She bit back and you let out a huff.

“I know the basics, and you need to talk. You need someone right now and I’m the one that’s here, so let me be what you need, even if you hate it.” You felt the vibration of her grumble against you, your free hand soothing up and down her back, “wanna maybe start with who Declan is?”

Emily tensed in your arms, unaware that you’d heard that much, wondering just how much she was willing to share tonight before she let out a shuddering breath, “Doyle’s son.”

“Just… his…?” You asked cautiously and she let out another wavery huff.

“Yes.” Her hand reached up to wipe away a stray tear, “my job was to seduce him, but I mean, I was careful. I even slept with him and I don’t do that.”

“Well even I know sleeping with an international terrorist isn’t likely a good idea.” You muttered back.

“I meant men.” She replied and you almost stiffened beside her.

“Oh…”

Silence filled the room once again as she continued to try to calm her thudding heart, the medicine you’d given her slowly coursing through her veins.

“My job was to keep Declan safe, even afterwards. That’s why I moved to D.C, not because of the BAU, but because it was close to him. I thought I was safe for so long after Doyle was arrested, that things were fine, that he’d never find us again but I was wrong. If he managed to break out of prison, find me and completely destroy me… again… what’s stopping him now?” She took a shuddering breath and your arms tightened around her.

“He thinks you’re dead.” You whispered softly, “even if he hacks into Boston hospital records, that’s what he’ll find.”

“I just want to feel safe.” She sniffled again and you held back the instinct to wipe the new tear away, not wanting to end this chapter of her feeling comfortable talking to you, feeling vulnerable with you. “I knew he wanted to kill me, that he wanted me dead and I had the upper hand and didn’t take it. I died.  I actually died in the ambulance and all I felt was… cold.. and darkness… that can’t be it.” Her hand clutched at your shirt again, “that can’t be the end…”

“It wasn’t.” You assured her softy, your hand slowly rubbing up and down her back, “and it won’t be. You deserve so much more than that, okay?”

“I just want to forget him.”

“I know.”

________________

@daddy-heather-dunbar @mandy-asimp @leftoverenvy @dextur @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @its-soph-xx @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @s1ut4nat @scorpsik @happenstnces @sapphicprentiss @geekyandgay98 @pagetboobstarcomments @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @theclassicgaycousin @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @niyizh @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @romanoffsho @ratsnestinmyhair @assgardangod @originalbrunettecharacter @hopedoesntknow @dj-bynum3718 @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @nachofriess @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx

[solsticelosthermind]

hiiiii I’m here to bother and ask

I’m procrastinating my first long fic so how do you outline your fics? Like do you go start to finish or sections or what’s the vibe?

Lio my darling dove, I’m going to tell you right now that I am a Disaster first and foremost. And now I’m going to yell incoherently:

Shortish answer: My fics typically begin life as a Scene that kind of just. Unfolds in my head. Which means step one of any attempt to outline is literally a braindump stream-of-consciousness style, trying to get as much of that scene written as I can before it mysteriously vanishes, never to return. As a general rule I write in order, unless there’s something that Appears to me that needs to be written RIGHT NOW (but that goes in a sep doc for when I Get To That Point tbh because more often than not, I have to tweak it to fit what’s actually going on once I get there.) I typically have a very loose outline: I generally know where I’d like it to end, though sometimes figuring out where to start can be difficult, and there are definitely parts of the so-called outline that are variations of “lulz sure hope you have an idea by the time you get here bitch bc I don’t” I am also a chronic re-writer. I have been known to get stuck on a scene because something is WRONG and I’ll have to poke at a different wip for a day or two until I can untangle what’s wrong with the main one. I can’t skip past that snarl, my brain doesn’t work like that: every scene informs the one that comes next, so I need to have the prior scene written. It’s the scaffolding to continue building. A first draft is putting sand in a box. It’s telling yourself the story. It’ll never be as bad as the first time it’s written, and written is something I can fix, but Not Written means I can’t do anything about it. So. Write it. Get it out. Figure it out as it comes. Have a back up project to play with when you need a day to let it simmer.

Long answer: The very first inkling of Severed Space Bitten Time was actually a bunch of nonsense-crack I threw in a group chat for my own entertainment:

But this is more disjointed than usual because the concepts are a bit more highbrow than I typically start with. The initial braindump for Foregone Conclusion was literally the scene where Atsushi’s eavesdropping outside the infirmary door. I just. Threw it out as it appeared in my head and then, well. The next part is: Where do I want to go with this? What is the point? What is this scene about, and, thusly, what emotion or theme am I playing with today?

And for SSBT, the answer to that was, “I want them to merge into one being/accidental soulmates-via-becoming-spacetime-itself/Choosing to become exactly what the other one needs,” which meant I had to refresh myself on all the random physics I’ve picked up over the years first. It ended up looking like this:

notably, this is for the BEGINNING of the fic. Very rushed, very much just keeping track of the emotions and big moments, concepts being used. The doc for SSBT’s outline, once I took the time to neaten it up for my own sanity, is over 3k. However, when I started writing, all I had was this, some very very thin sketches for the middle (things like: protect akutagawa, build up to a full merge, hallucination maybe) and two different scenes for the ending that very much contradicted each other but helped me keep in mind what vibe I was striving to build up.

I no longer have the outline for Foregone Conclusion, but as evidenced by uhh 90% of my other wips, my outline is really just a series of bullet points I want to hit and roughly sketched out scenes as they come to me (learning that sometimes I had to let go of those points was very annoying. But. Y’know. Sometimes the point is good, but you can make the point better a different way. Sometimes it just doesn’t fit once it’s written.) And it’s literally just “Okay, we did X. Because of X, what should/could happen?” Or the reverse, if the scene I start with isn’t a beginning scene: how do I make this happen? What must have already happened to get HERE? Foregone’s eavesdropping was originally Dazai being a bitch about the coat. I skipped back a bit and went, why/how is atsushi hearing this and why doesn’t he just barge in? Turns out he was anxious and unsure, and he’d been trying to be sweet by getting something from the cafe. And hey, turns out Dazai didn’t want to be as bitchy about the coat as I started out either, but he DID want a minute without a hovering and protective weretiger. SSBT is kind of an outlier in that I took a a bit to pin down the beginning, because I spent so much time poking through the physics of… all the physics I never actually mention in the damn fic. The middle section’s notes are very brief and mostly a list of the enemy’s insane overpowered bullshit with potential ways to counter. Still angry about helicopter-gozen, tbh.

The first attempt at chapter five had stuff like this

This whole thing was culled because I realized quickly it just felt wrong tbh so I went and did a quick re-read of what’s been published; I plucked out the threads I want to tie off, the big emotions, the major changes, repeated lines, and once I had that in a list I said okay. As a reader, what would be the most satisfactory ending to this that doesn’t feel like a cop-out? And part of what I struggled with until literally last night was—my brain enjoys reading long involved fics. I want to be eyeballs deep at all times. Give me all the details. Break it down for me from five directions. I want to marinate in this story, please. So—I was setting up ch5 to ensure I had to write a ch6 and a ch7 and and and—and that’s not the kind of fic I set out for, this time. The story is about them becoming and accepting their unity: I told that part of the story already. I just need to give them a new beginning; I don’t need to write the ending to that new beginning too. I need to write this one in such a way that the reader knows whatever comes after my story, they’re okay. Very different parameters. While writing, I keep the most relevant bullet points in the same doc and literally just write above it, crossing off the points as I hit them or realize they’re better off elsewhere/useless after all. That’s why I tend to keep my chapters in separate documents within a single file. I’ve also got the main outline, which has all of the bullet points and self-rants in one very messy pile, usually a cull document for bits that dont fit but might be useful elsewhere… SSBT also has a doc for the divine being/fyodor’s attributes and abilities, breaking down the swords involved etc, and another to keep track of the terms I never used anyway.

Which is a very very long way to say: I’m very messy in the way I’ve pinned down that works best for me: stream of consciousness and the occasional bullet point that’s just cursing and “???” You could definitely pop into the ask box of folks like @/aurorahrt @/roadtripwithlucifer or @/acreeperinawhitevan (Lynnja) or @/lalaurelia (genmitsu) and ask them if they’ve got less insane systems, but be warned that both auroraheart and lynnja seem to possess a preternatural ability to just. Have an idea appear mostly from start to finish and then churn it out with terrifying speed lmao