#Red Dead Online Tips

[fogaminghub]

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[chaoticwriting]

Streamer Danny

Everyone has a hobby or something they like to do. For Cass, that is watching Danny's stream. She doesn't know why but Danny's voices are very soothing and pleasant to hear. And it's not even just her that thought that. Every single one of Danny's fans say the same thing.

It is also a plus that Danny always talks using simple English. It makes it easier for her to learn how to speak and even read. Her favorite streams are the streams where Danny just sits and chats with the viewers. Not to say she doesn't like the other contents but there is just something nice to hear him answer her questions about himself.

No. She totally doesn't have a crush on that guy Steph. He doesn't even know her. How can she have a crush on someone that she never met before.

One thing she takes notes is the concerning things Danny sometimes says online. Like how he is half dead. Or something about a creepy godfather or something. Cass tries to look into him more with Tim's help (No Tim. She doesn't have a crush on this guy. And it's not creepy at all to stalk his personal information like this.) but finds practically nothing online about him except for his streaming channel and his hometown being somewhere in Illinois.

Danny also sometimes brings in guests to either interview or play video games with. There is Tucker, tech geek. He apparently is the one that sets up Danny's devices so that he can stream easily. Then there is Sam. His ex-girlfriend best friend. They talk about a lot of things mostly plants and ecosystems. There are also his sisters. Ellie is also a recurring guest. She often comes on stream and shares her travel experience and tips when traveling. Then there is Jazz who works as a psychiatrist at Arkham. And also is apparently working part-time for Red Hood.

Cass almost goes crazy when she hears that. She contemplates going to Jason to blackmail ask Jason to introduce Danny to her. Cass barely hesitates and the next thing anyone knows, Cass is inside Jason's apartment sitting on his couch nibbling on the freshly baked cookies Jason has on his counter.

Jason: *Walks out from his bedroom* Wtf! Where the hell did you come from?

Cass: *Stares*

Jason: Uggh. What the hell do you want?

Cass: Do you know Jazz?

Jason: *Tense* Why do you want to know?

Cass: Introduce me to her brother.

Jason: Danny? Why the hell do you wanna meet her?

Cass: A fan.

Jason: A fan? A fan of what? Wait. Danny did do the live streaming shit. Are you talking about that?

Cass: *Nods*

Jason: Whatever. Just don't fucking enter my house like that next time. I will call you to tell you when he is free.

Cass: *Smiles* Thank you.

Jason: Yeah yeah.

-Other place-

Danny: And that's it for today's stream people. I think I can stream again tomorrow but let's see if plans can keep up with change.

Chat: We want you to sing!

Danny: I will think about it in the next stream. Anyway see you later guys.

Chat: Bye!

Turning off the stream, Danny tiredly releases a sigh. Danny doesn't know why everyone wants him to sing. As far as Danny remembers, his voice has always been okay at best. He remembers getting mocked by Dash and his group when they participated in a choir when they were 10. Since then, Danny swears that he will never sing again.

What Danny likes though is dancing. Especially, ballet. He always likes the way the dancer expresses their emotions through body movements. The way they express anger, sadness, happiness and even love. When he becomes a ghost, he gets even better at reading those using ghost speak. Danny dreams of one day being able to dance in front of an audience of hundreds.

Opening a video platform website, Danny searches for a specific ballet group that he encounters. The group has a specific dancer that is amazing at expressing her emotions through dance.

Danny watches longingly hoping he could one day dance like that, or even dance with her. Suddenly a knock comes from his door.

Jazz: Hey, Danny. Can we talk?

[chuunai]

Dazai kisses you with the reverence of a worshipper. He’s eternally grateful that such a filthy, lowly demon such as himself received the affections of such an angel. His morning and nighty rituals begin and end with the same event—kisses all over your holy body, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. They’re chaste and fleeting in the beginning, afraid to defile and corrupt you. But oh, he craves to hear the delicacies of your gentle hums and moans when he gets too messy later on and leaves a pretty mark. He knows mere mortals shouldn’t get too close to goddesses, but he can’t help but follow icarus’s steps and hope to touch the sun, you.

Chuuya kisses you like a man drunk in love. Your lips replace the bottle he used to seek comfort so often from, and the taste of red wine could never hold a candle to the taste of you. And not unlike the glasses full of alcohol, he finds himself asking for just one more kiss. They’re bold and clear to the point that he has given himself to you. He’ll proudly kiss the ground you walk on with the same energy he kisses you. He’s lost so many people in his life, and the one thing he wants is to keep you and your kisses all to himself. The finest wine deserves a knowledgeable man who won’t break the bottle.

Fyodor kisses you with the delicate touch of an artist. Every imprint of his lips on your skin is carefully arranged in an ethereal collage of devotion and intimacy. There’s no overdoing it or under-doing it, it’s the perfect amount. His words are always coated in sugary lies and webbed subsidiary secrets, and he opts to express his love through affectionate gestures such as a mere kiss. Being a man of God, naturally he strays away from anything too provocative and heated. Except sometimes in the dead of night, he thinks of Eve and the apple. He shouldn’t have you, no, but he can’t resist forever.

Sigma kisses you like he’ll lose you. The three years he has known this world has only taught him pain, anguish and anxiety. He’s so inexperienced, and he’s afraid that inexperience will frustrate you to the point of leaving him. There’s a bit of everything in a kiss with him, some tongue (he read about it online on a WikiHow article of how to kiss), the shaky hand on your cheek and hip and so much idolization. You lead most of the kisses by proxy, and he lets you. It’s okay if you use him like a toy. He’ll gladly be used as long as you don’t leave.

Nikolai kisses you with all the wild passion he can muster. The lipstick he wears smears across your skin, painting your Cupid’s bow red. Mutters of ‘pretty thing’ and ‘fucking delicious’ leave him with each deepening kiss. It’s a pity he’s thought about setting you free from this world during such a moment. Your heart bleeding around the knife, wails and whimpers of pain muffled by his lips while he guides you through the end of life. The last remnant of the chains holding him down would be gone if your kisses weren’t so hammering onto his soul. Every peck and smooch only solidifies his connection to you and this universe.

Tags: @twst-om-lover, @briars-castle, @little-miss-chaoss, @sinfulthoughtsposts @starrs20

[sombrashe]

2 random relationship headcanons ∿ team thanos

suggestive

✐ᝰlets you take a hit of his vape in the middle of sex. doesn't matter if he's fucking into you or if you're bouncing on his lap. he's grabbing his vape off the bedside box and blowing smoke in your face

"Quit it, Choi."

"Harsh... want a hit? It's cherry lime."

"Sounds awful."

"You say that to everything."

"That's because blue raspberry is the only flavor."

✐ᝰrolls a blunt on your lower back as you're scrolling. swatting at your ass when you laugh too hard and shake some of the bud loose. he finishes it off by keeping his tongue out too long and licking a stripe from the blunt to your side.

"Ew, Su-bong. What have I said about the licking?"

"That you love it and want me to do it."

"I get enough weed stench on me being in your presence. I don't need it embedded into my skin."

"Boring."

✐ᝰbrings home random pills he's collected throughout his shift at the club and expects you to take them with him. you always question every little thing about the pill. all he has to do is taking a quick look and knows exactly what it is.

"That's ecstasy. It's an upper."

"So I'll get like super depressed after?"

"Yeah, but I'll be here. It's fun."

"I hallucinate, right?"

"That's one of the symptoms, yeah"

✐ᝰdoes your nails because he's dead broke. He wishes he could buy you those cute sets you always linger on when online browsing. He found some nail sets on temu and went to a beauty store to buy nail supplies. he kept these hidden while he watched video after video about how to properly do nails.

"Where did you learn this?"

"YouTube."

"Why?"

"Bored."

✐ᝰdyes your hair so long as you agree to go with her when she gets a new piercing. she loves seeing all the different colors you've gone through. she especially loves how you just make shit up, mixing emerald pixie and frozen cotton candy and naming the teal color frozen pixie candy. amazing

"What color are we doing next?"

"I don't know. Any ideas?"

"What about pink. You always look so cute in pink."

"Pervert."

"I didn't even say anything."

✐ᝰrants to you about her day, everyday. at first it was frustrating, it seemed like all she did was complain. the more you bit your tongue and listened you slowly came to realize she needed a new job. immediately. what kind of boss says those things??

"You need to quit."

"I can't just quit."

"I make enough to hold us over until you find another job."

"But we would have to cut down a lot."

"I will do whatever you need."

✐ᝰblushes when you offer to go down on him. you don't do it often since he normally initiates but the few times you do offer his face turns beat red. it always starts at the tip of his ears, moves over to the apples of his cheeks, and ends splattered across his cheat like a renaissance painting.

"You're so red, Min-su."

"Don't tease me."

"I'm not! I promise, I think it's cute. Sexy even."

"Uh-huh."

"No really, It shows how turned on I make you."

✐ᝰgenuinely giggles. anytime you get the upper hand during wrestling you stick your fingers right under his chin and start tickling. at first he lets out a sharp laugh. something harsh that is accompanied by kicks. when it really starts getting to be too much he starts giggling uncontrollably.

"Stop. Stop. Too much."

"Say it. Say I'm the champion."

"You're-."

"Min-su."

"You won. You're the champion. Now stop, please. I can't breathe."

✐ᝰwatches you whenever you're not looking. He feels like a creep doing it but you're just so gorgeous. Absolutely ethereal and he physically can't keep his eyes off of you. He does it so often he ends up spacing out and you have to raise your voice to snap him out of it.

"Gyeong-su? Gyeong-su!"

"What?"

"Have you heard a single thing I said?"

"What did you say?"

"Unbelievable."

✐ᝰhypes you up any chance he gets. just woke up and need nothing more than a shower? God, baby, you look so good. putting the finishing touches on your makeup before a night out? Wow, you're breathtaking. when you're facedown and his lips are inches from the shell of your ear? Amazing how I get to call you mine.

"Which shirt with these pants?"

"You look amazing in both."

"That's not helpful Gyeong-su."

"But it's the truth."

"Then lie."

[flagellant]

How To Be Native American: Five Tips To Acknowledging The Indian In You!

Wonder why you're writing this. Debate with yourself about the form and the function. By making a performance out of your criticism of the inherent performativity of being a white-passing Native, is that denying or adding to the power imbalance that actually white people already have over your life, your identity, your culture? Ponder blood quantum for the seventh time today and really just sit down and ask yourself, "Is this going to be the metaphor that justifies my existence within my culture to white strangers online?" Accept it probably won't be and write this inadvisably anyway. They weren't ever going to get it anyway, but for once, this isn't about them.

Do your research! Take your knowledge and academize it. If you can't cite your sources when you try and explain why this privilege is killing you, are you really a victim of genocide? Or are you just 1/16th Cherokee Princess? FUN FACT: So many people are "Pretendians" that anthropological scholars are trying to examine the psychology behind why! You know why, of course. They feel so alienated from their culture as settlers that they cling to whatever they can, like mud on a duck's bill, steadily reshaping Turtle Island in their image. Remember that by criticizing Pretendians you simply give people more reason to assume you're one. Pretend this is fine.

Read Braiding Sweetgrass again. It won't help, but the words are familiar enough by this point that you can start the grief process a full three chapters ahead of the words you're thinking in your head. Wonder if this is all you'll ever get to have: Stories of dead grandmothers and dead strawberries and dead nations, bones piled upon bones with none of the nitrogen fixing jack shit. Think about how you have never gotten to braid sweetgrass with someone who understands who and what you are. Reread the last few sentences because your tears have blurred the ink so badly at this point it's like trying to be fluent in a language no one will teach you.

Brush your hair out, because you have gingery ringlets rather than sleek, thick flint. Your name is Red Fox Jesus Man and you've only got a little bit of a complex about it. Think about how, when people claim you look like Jesus, they aren't talking about the Middle Eastern Jew, they're talking about the Italian. You aren't even a little bit fucking Italian. Microaggressions are a form of racial validation, right? Especially if they aren't intended to be, right?

Light a candle for your dead grandfather. None of his stories got passed down onto you or your mother or your father. Maybe none of your great-great-grandfather's stories got passed down to him either. This is a comfort, in a selfish, self-destructive way. If you don't know the names of the teachers in the Mission your people were sent to, that is a sort of pyrrhic victory. Not a meaningful one, but scraps will fill your stomach if you settle for enough of them.

[baby-yongbok]

Poetry

Chapter One - Last Copy

Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, the kind that makes you blush a little.

Word Count: 1,433

A/N: Hyunjin's airport outfit got me thinking so I just wrote this cute little thing real quick! I'm thinking about making it another mini series so let me know if you want a part two! I'm putting way too much on my plate but I can't help it 😭

Summary: You meet a cute stranger at your favorite bookstore cafe.

Part Two

✧Poetry Series Masterlist✧ ✧Main Masterlist✧

You browsed the shelves for your favorite poet's new release. You were determined to buy it in both paperback and hardcover before it went flying off the shelves. You skim the spines of the many books searching for the poet’s name when you finally come across it. A wide smile paints your face as you reach for the final hardcover copy, that smile quickly drops when your hand collides with one of a stranger next to you. You must've been so focused that you hadn't noticed him. 

"Pardon me." He apologizes softly, slightly bowing his head towards you. 

"No no, it's alright. I should've been paying attention." The two of you stand there glancing between each other and the book for a second too long before he breaks the silence. 

"You reached for it three seconds before me so you should have it." The tall man grins down at you as he picks up the book and holds it out to you. "I can always get it online. "

"Oh no, it's fine! I can just buy the paperback." You give him a kind grin and his lips pull into a thin line. 

"Well then you really should take this then because I just picked up the last paperback." A quiet chuckle leaves his lips as he holds it up momentarily for you to see. You can't help but smile and giggle a bit as you push a strand of hair behind your ear. 

"Ah, okay, well in that case how could I turn down a hard cover of my favorite poet?" You take the book from him and start to study it immediately. You sigh happily as you run your fingers over the cover, taking in every detail. "I love their book design. Every single one is so unique and fresh, it really reflects their work perfectly." 

"I agree, I think that the use of abstract art on the cover is a beautiful touch." You smile up at him again and this time you take a moment to study his features. His jet black hair is in a half up half down style and his circle lens glasses compliment his shining eyes perfectly. Not to mention his pink lips and structured jaw which are the icing on a very handsome cake. You take in his black sweater and matching black pants, his style is very attractive and from the looks of his Versace necklace very expensive. 

"I think so too, it's one of the things that drew me to them." He grins down at you and shakes his head slightly. He tilts his head to the side a bit before letting the tip of his tongue dip out of his mouth and skate across his bottom lip. You notice his eyes wandering over your frame and for some reason the action is welcomed by you. You don't feel uncomfortable in the slightest. He catches himself staring and suddenly holds his hand out to you. 

"I'm Hyunjin by the way." You blush slightly as you grin up at him.

"Y/n" He smiles at your name and you can't help but to look down at your feet for a second. Your hands stay together in a handshake for a few seconds too long before you let go. 

"Well, Y/n, uh I was actually about to sit at the Cafe up front and get started on this book... Would you maybe want to sit with me? We can share our thoughts on it. That is if you aren't busy or anything." He pulls his lips into a thin line and the tips of his ears turn a bit red as his nerves start to get to him. You smile blushing a bit yourself. 

"I um.. I actually think that I'd like that a lot." He smiles as he pushes up his glasses and looks away towards the bookshelf for a second, most likely to stop himself from smiling like an idiot, not like it matters though, at this point the blush covering both of your cheeks is a dead give away to your excitement. 

"Great, after you." You shake your head and turn on your heels leading the way over to the Cafe where the two of you stare at the menu. "I don't know why I'm even looking, I get the same thing every time." 

You chuckle as your eyes land on exactly what you'd like. "What's that?" 

"An iced americano and a white cream latte." You furrow your brows towards him curiously. 

"Two coffees?" He blushes a bit, bringing his hand to the back of his neck and scratching softly 

"I may have a caffeine problem." He chuckles a bit and you follow suit. "What would you like? It's on me."

"Oh no, you don't have to."

"I insist." He smiles down at you with bright and excited eyes and you feel yourself melt a bit. 

"I suppose I can't turn down free refreshments" You step forward towards the cashier and start your order, once you're done Hyunjin adds his items and he reaches into his pocket to pull out his Versace wallet. Who exactly is this guy? He has very expensive taste. You watch as he skims the many cards in his wallet and your face heats up a bit when he pulls out a black card. Okay, no really who is this guy? 

"Wanna find us a table?" He asks as he stuffs his wallet back into his pocket. You nod in agreement and quickly retreat to your favorite table in the back corner of the cafe. You get comfortable, crossing your legs indian style and leaning back against the plush booth. You take your phone out of your purse to briefly check your messages but before you could reply to anyone Hyunjin approaches with a tray full of refreshments. 

"Here we go." He sits across from you, serving you your items from the tray. 

"Thank you very much." You smile as you take your mug and bring it up to your lips briefly, taking a sip. You smile to yourself as you let the warmth of your drink surge through you. 

"So, Y/n, do you come here often?" Hyunjin asks as he sips his Americano and you can't help but to chuckle

"Really? You used that line?" He grins slightly but it quickly turns into a smile and a quiet embarrassed laugh as his fingers caress the skin of his neck. 

"I'm sorry, I guess I’m a little rusty. I honestly don't talk to alluring women such as yourself often..I'm usually quite reserved? Kind of the shy type socially.”

You smile and you can feel a blush creeping up on your cheeks. " I could say the same.. I don't talk to alluring men very often. I only read about them."

Hyunjin smiles, his fingers interlacing as he brings them up towards his face and leans in towards you. "Call me crazy but I have a feeling that you'll be more interesting than any book I've ever read."

Okay, you're definitely blushing now. "Yeah? I think I could say the same about you." 

Hyunjin looks down at his lap with a wide smile, He licks his lips before grabbing his coffee and takes a long sip before looking back up at you with flushed cheeks. 

"So, do you come here often? Because if you do I will too." You tilt your head to the side slightly with a curious eyebrow raised. 

"Is that right?"

"I wouldn't lie to you." He mimics your curious demeanor. 

"I come here at least once a week." He shakes his head as he picks up his drink.

"Looks like I need to change my schedule." You smile as you take a piece of the cinnamon roll that you ordered with your tea. 

"Looks like you do." You both hold a smile as your eyes search each other's.

"So... this book, how about I read it to you?" 

"You want to read me poetry?" He nods confidently as he reaches for your copy of the book. "You just want to touch the hardcover."

"That is true, you caught me" a playful smile pulls at his lips and you smile back, crossing your arms as you lean forward and rest your elbows on the table. 

"Hm, fine but if you damage it you owe me a new copy."

"Deal." He smiles as he opens the book and you watch as his long slim fingers flip through the pages. "Alright, ready?"

You pick up your mug and take a sip before grinning and smiling towards him. 

"Ready"

♡ Next Chapter ➟

[dicespider]

Tips on avoiding getting scammed as an artist

1. If contacted on a social media site, scan the profile of the commissioner. Is it empty? Are there only 2 or 3 posts with the same sort of aesthetic image? Is the account only a few days old? All of these are incredibly suspect and point to a potential bot.

2. Don't trust people who tell you to DM them for commission on your posts. If someone really wants to contact you for a commission, they'll go to you directly. This strategy is to get you to interact with the bot first.

3. Mix up your speech patterns a bit. Bots that aren't run from AI typically have more of an "if this than that" sort of output. A good way to throw them off is to send a sticker or gif greeting as your first message or asking them how they found you. Any non-standard questions may pull the bot off it's script.

4. Don't accept AI references. Regardless of anyone's personal feelings on AI, Any sort of image generation should be considered a red flag.

5. If they have a reference, ask who the artist was. If they say it's from them, be friendly and ask to see their other art. Scammers are pretty unlikely to have art from the same artists.

6. If contacted on a messaging service like discord or telegram, check to see if they've posted any messages in your mutual servers. Having none is a red flag.

7. Take payment after confirming intent. Scammers are usually unwilling to put their money where their mouth is, and personally I take at least half payment once sketches have been approved. This prevents people from backing out after you've worked hours on a project.

8. Don't accept sob stories. Scammers will often use sympathy to get commissions. Stories about dead pets, family members, or friends are common tactics.

9. Watermark the *shit* out of wips. We're talking stock image level of watermarking. That or a giant "wip" written across the page. Don't send usable art until the product is finished.

10. Have a limit on the amount of changes you accept (usually something like 5 max) and don't accept major changes halfway through the piece.

11. If contacted by someone on a messaging service, ask for proof of social media. Either as a link or a screenshot showing that they own the artist's socials.

12. If a commissioner sends money and it gets "locked up" this is a scam. Don't click on links or strange emails.

13. Be wary if someone sends you an obsenely large payment and asks for you to "send it back". Contact your payment method's support, as asking someone to send payment back before refunding refunding the original payment is a common scam.

Tips on avoiding being scammed as a commissioner.

1. Don't trust solicitors. Anyone who comes to you asking to buy their art is highly suspect.

2. If contacted on a messaging service like discord or telegram, check to see if they've posted any messages in your mutual servers. Having none is a red flag.

3. When someone gives you examples of their work, look for signs of AI or wildly different art styles. Artists even when proficient with different styles still usually have the same feel to their work.

4. Look for watermarks on sent art. Scammers will often crop out or edit out watermarks of artists who actually did the piece. If you don't see one, it raises a red flag.

5. Look for strange speech patterns. Unless the artist is from a different country and doesn't have english as their first language, or is very young, most artists will at least try to be professional and gramatically correct when accepting commissions. Clipped responses, bad spelling, or strange product descriptions for things like fiber art can all be a red flag.

6. Stay firm on pricing. Don't trust an artist who pushes you to send more money without reasonable cause, (ie. Giving them a major change late in the piece or asking for a rushed job)

7. Stick to verified payment portals. Some payment methods have better protections than others and online payment methods are hard to refund.

8. Double check the artist is who they say they are. Scammers will often impersonate artists to get money. Verify by either asking for proof of layers, or by checking out the artist's other socials. Worst case scenario, DM the artist directly to ask if they're on XYZ platform.

9. Be suspicious of upfront payments with no proof of work. This doesn't apply for everything, (ie, you may pay for a fursuit head in advance) but unless an artist is highly trustworthy and has proven quality, be wary of someone asking you to send all the money upfront if you don't have at least a sketch.

10. You should be giving the artist direction, not the other way around. An artist shouldn't be trying to convince you of the scene you want, you should have a clear image of what exactly it is you're commissioning them for.

Overall, stay safe!!

[cevans-is-classic]

18+ Only! Sexual content, oral, unprotected sex, language, Dom/Sub tones.

My Masterlists

Homelander

“Come with me.” His lip twitches, hands behind his back. You huff, shaking your head before turning around. You hear him grumble, but he follows you to the elevators. He stands straight, hands clasped, and his cape being ridiculous as you pick at your nails.

When the elevator stops, dinging open, he steps out walking quickly.

It has you walk-skipping to keep up, which makes you roll your eyes behind his back.

The door makes a noise when he opens it. A whispered whoosh, which is dramatic as fuck. (In your opinion)

His room is horrible.

“Your room is horrible.”

He shrugs, “As you say every time you’re here.”

Yes, you do. You’re rather vocal about it.

His couch is comfortable; letting you sink into it when you jump onto the cushions and drop. You lay back, one arm going behind your head as you stretch out. He rarely uses it, hardly paying attention to it unless you or Ryan are there.

Homelander stares at you, hands resting at his sides now, he looks at you with dark eyes. It scares you a little that, if he wanted, he could flash them red, and you’d be dead.

Red and Dead — get it?

“You know I was busy, right? Doing my job.” You kick your shoes off, pulling your shirt out of your pants.

“I’m sure all your online fans will miss you.” He grumbles, picking up your shoes to rest along the wall. He straightens Ryan’s shoes before slipping off his and setting them right. 

The Homelander: America’s most neurotic.

After a few moments, he sits close to you, biting his lip when your feet touch his thigh. You nudge at him until he settles back and you rest your legs over his. “Tell me what I can do, Mr. Homelander, sir.”  

Homelander clears his throat. “I want to be a good boy,” he mumbles, cheeks turning red before he tries again. “I want to be a good boy.” 

Your mouth ticks up, turning sharp, tongue pressing against your canine.

“Do you know?”

He turns his head, blue eyes blazing, his fists clenched, and, any moment, now he’ll rip your lungs out.

He pauses, hands resting on your shins, “Please.” 

You grin, all teeth, and mirth, and crook a finger at him. 

Homelander sighs, the rigid set of his shoulder loosening as he closes his eyes and crawls between your legs and curls against You. 

His hair is soft, silk between your fingers, The blond is fading quickly, showing dark roots with wisps of gray hairs. You scratch behind his ear, over his temples, and massage the base of his skull. 

He melts into you.

He almost purred in your arms, Rubbing his cheek against your chest and stretching his fingers and toes. 

Homelander is disappearing, becoming a ghost to let John find the spotlight. The young boy who never knew kindness, the teenager they expected more from, the man taking what he can.

Even if it’s not his to take.

You coo at him, “How good do you want to be?” 

His chest rises, higher, higher, and stops. You count to three out loud, sliding your hand resting over his heart before he releases his breath. 

“Good enough for you.” 

You tsk at him, “You came to me for a specific reason, didn’t you?” 

John nods, “I want you to.” He coughs, cheeks growing red. 

Fuck, he’s adorable.

The world's strongest man, the most dangerous man, someone who kills without a blink blushing in your lap. 

“Oh. I know.” You touch the tip of his nose. “Only one thing makes you blush so pretty.”

He lifts his eyes to yours. “Yeah?” 

You nod. “Go strip and lay down on the bed. I’ll follow.”

He almost trips over his cape to get off the couch.

-

Your hands grip his hair, tugging it as you roll your hips.

John groans under you, his tongue spearing you open, staying strong as you ride his mouth. Holding his head in place, thighs trembling to keep you up.

He follows you when the next roll slides you on the sheet, helping keep you steady. Your voice hitches as you thank him. His fingers curl tighter before releasing and sliding on your ass. 

He pulls you down harder, closer, blue eyes looking up at you in question. 

“Such a good boy.” You kiss him. 

His eyes darken, centered, focused on you and how you move. He doesn’t twitch, move, or breathe more than you let him.

He’s yours to control. 

“This is where I like you best.” He nips your clit, making you yelp snapping your hips, a glint of amusement flashes in his eyes. You grin down at him and shake your head before rolling your neck back.

“Between my legs.” You continue, “It’s where you belong.” Your thighs buzz, knees aching, but you keep going, staying over him, on him. When he groans, you cradle the back of his head, keeping him in place. He flexes his fingers on your ass, moving his tongue faster.

Lightning zaps through your body, back arching, thighs clamping around his head. 

A sharp cry strangles you, echoing in the room and shaking the windows. 

John moans deeper, mouth opening to flatten his tongue and let you ride it. You pick up the speed, his name falling from your tongue in quick gasps until the band in your stomach snaps tongue. You pull his hair hard enough to make a normal man bleed.

Looking down, you see his eyes watching you, focused on you, almost there — glazing over with pleasure.

“I came, Baby,” He blinks, slow, letting you lift enough that he can lick his lips.

You smile, “Take a few breaths for me.”

He does, one, two, three, body sinking deeper into the bed until his fingers unclench and you can shuffle down his shoulders. He keeps blinking, slower, heavier, his own smile rest on his mouth.

You shuffle further down, sitting above where his cock is hard, leaking, curled towards you. “My dear,” You pet the side of his hair, “I’m happy.”

John nods, eyes closed, but his hands seek you out, trying to guide you further down his lap. It's weak, little pushes, unconscious movements. His hips stay still but you feel his thighs tighten when you tip your hips back and let his cock, leaking head and throbbing, touch you.  

He lifts his head, though, eyes flashing open. You press a finger to his lip, guiding him back down to the pillow. The flash is gone, replaced by a hazy look, head sinking deeper into the pillow.

You move further down, skipping where he’s throbbing to bring your mouth to his nipple. He jolts when you nip one, licking over it then repeating until it pebbled and bruised before moving to the next. You repeat the process, keeping the former between your fingers to pinch and roll.

He opens his mouth but closes it again with a slow sigh. You watch him fall deeper, sink further, a glazed look crossing his eyes.

You continue, biting his chest hard enough to leave indents then nipping and kissing the line of his ribs. His breath is deep, stomach lifting and falling in a steady pattern you follow until you reach the dip of his hip.  

“John,” You murmur, moving a hand to cradle his cheek, “Can you hear me?”

“Ye- yes.”

“I’m going to touch you, okay? I want you to move with me.” He shakes his head back and forth, but you shush him, “Let it happen naturally.”

You wrap your hand around his cock, thumbing the underside of his head before bringing it to your lips and licking at the slit. His hips jerk, fucking upwards to slide past your lips. You take in a sharp breath, pulling back enough to let him rest on your bottom lip.

“Good, that’s good.” You stroke him, up, down, your tongue following the path trailing spit and precome around his cock.

His hips rise and fall with your hand, twitching against your tongue. Pre-come dribbles from the head when you thumb over it, leaking down to pool against your hand.

Little whimpers started falling from his mouth, his cock sliding faster in the circle of your fingers. You watch, mouth open, he moves along your tongue riding it the way you had his.

He throbs, growing harder, harder - you let go.

He shouts a broken cry.

“I know,” You soothe him, massaging his thighs, “I know, baby. It’s okay.”

His lip trembles. You shush his little noises — knee-walking up the bed until you hover over him.

“Open your eyes, John.”

He does.

His pupils are blown wide swallowing the blue, he stares at you with such trust it warms your heart.

“Keep looking at me, okay? Don’t close your eyes unless I say so; nod if you understand.”

He nods.

“Good boy.”

Guiding him to your entrance, you sink, sliding him inside of you until you can feel it in your throat. Your stomach tightens, air leaving your lungs until they burn. The stretch is amazing, filling you until there’s nothing left.

“You always feel so good.” Your hips start slow.

He watches you, keeping his eyes trained on you. You reach for his hands, tangling your fingers together and using them to keep your balance. He locks his elbows, keeps you steady, stays put as your hips pick up speed, and fuck over him.

“God, so full.”

Your head falls back, neck stretches. You keep going faster, faster, until your hands fall from his and land on his chest. The next snap topples you forward, grinding your clit into his pubic hair sending jolts of electricity into your stomach.

“Hold on to me.” His hands come to your hips. “Keep me steady, okay?”

a shaky nod answers you back.

You smile, then lift.

His hands hold you, fingers digging into your hips. It hurts, makes it hard to focus on the pleasure. “Baby-” He loosens his hold opening his mouth but you shake your head.

“It's okay.” You fixed the rhythm sitting up now. It nudges him against that sweet spot inside of you. Your body thrums, burning up, heart beating rapidly.

You reach for his hands, “Let go,” He does, letting you guide his hands to your chest, “Touch me.”

John moans, deep, vibrating in his chest and he touches you.

Everywhere.

Your nipples rolled and pinched between his fingers, your ribs where he drags his nails over them and back up. You lose track of where he goes. Just watch his eyes as he works.

A fire ignites.

His eyes stay focused on you, every inch of you, mouth open with little huffs. It spins the room, dragging your mind from the snap and slide of your hips to the feeling of his body.

He’s burning hot, wiry, and strong as he fucks up into you and pulls you down to meet his hips. It knocks you forward a few times; caught by his hands to straighten you out. He’s fucking beautiful like this, being used, being yours. 

You let go of his hands, leaning back to catch his legs. It slides him deeper. You move up, down, and up against the. His little huffs go quiet. He watches you, mesmerized, drawn in. 

He's all yours. 

You can do whatever you want with him. 

“Fuck me, Baby.” 

“I've got you.” His chin shivers, hips moving faster. You hang your arm around his neck and hold on. 

he misses your neck, nipping, biting. Bruising marks into your skin that'll last for weeks, covering Your body, and bruises around your hips match the ones around your neck. 

He shuffles, holding your bottom higher, and sparks a fire inside your body. 

“Fuck, there.” His arms lock, moving your hips over and over Your mind fizzes, pops, and zeros in on his blue eyes.

Dangerous. 

Like looking down the barrel of a gun.

He would never. 

“You're mine.” You moan, catching him in a kiss, teeth clashing you lick into his mouth and swallow his groan. 

The fire burns hotter, coils around your pelvis, and burns up your thighs. 

“Yes,” You tighten your hold, “There.” Your body tightens, burning hotter, hotter- 

“Fuck!” You shout glass shattering, Homelander Crying out your name as he fucks into you. 

You hold on to him, watching him. His mouth is open, eyes heavy, glazed. “Come for me.” 

His eyes squeeze close. 

He cries, loud, long, holding you closer until his thrusts slow and he lowers you to the bed. 

your thighs twitch, static beneath your skin in shirt jolts. 

His body twitches back. 

“Baby,” You nudge his nose with yours, kissing him. His lips follow as he curls around you. He shifts you to rest his head on your chest and stretches out. Out 

“You did so good.” 

He blinks his eyes open, close, open eyes jumping back and forth. You follow him, a smile curling your lips as he comes back. Focus sharp,, he mouth opens and closes for a beat. 

“I was?” 

“Of course.”

He hums once, then closes his eyes once more and sinks into the mattress. 

You sink with him.

[windywallflower]

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AUGUSTINE

We've been telling folks this is kind of a Mad Max meets Greek Mythology, my brother said its more like a Disney's Hercules meets Borderlands-- all of these are absolutely wrong but we'd be lying if we weren't inspired by them all even just a little bit. Its queer, this group of misfits is a found family out in some junky little desert where the cash is literal liquid (water) and the people are rough around the edges. August and her team just want to be heroes but maybe pissing off rich people comes at a bit of a nasty price.

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[omnidoll]

Punk Skunk Girl and Punk Cat Boy doll set finished Sat. Nov. 16 2024 with pictures—took forever, finally done

I was really pleased with how these anthropomorphic cat boy and skunk girl dolls turned out. The heads (with original hairstyles) came from the 2020s MGA LOL OMG Hair Hair Hair pets line, which were all music-themed. The bodies came from Tomy(?) posable artist figures from AliExpress. I made most of their clothes (with contributions from toy companies MGA, Zuru, and Mattel), and I made all of their rock and rock accessories.

The tiny, male and female, black vinyl hinged and ball socket artist figure bodies caused many delays in finishing these this year, as the joints would break when they were moved. I had to use a combination of superglue with water putty powder, and sometimes black felt and super glue to stabilize and repair breaks. (Then I’d seal, paint black, seal, and repeat the steps when the joints inevitably broke again.) But there was nothing else available for doll bodies in black in this scale.

I made his black jeans, his black mesh top, her red sweater, her stretchy black tights, and her skirt from scratch from old jeans, an unused Forever 21 clearance cocktail dress, black scraps, and a new holiday-themed sock. His gold tone belt buckle is a tiny piece broken off of some bit of doll accessory or doll jewelry (likely Mattel Barbie). The printed top layer of her skirt was made by gathering the long printed satin care instructions in multiple languages from the dress tag.

His clear neon green “studded” vest came in a handful of MGA LOL OMG doll clothes and accessories bought at this spring’s Port Costa town-wide yard sale (studs had to be reglued, as they shed off the vinyl). His black cotton jacket and her black, red, and silver sleeveless top came from a new set of MGA Little Bratz clothes bought years ago. (The top came with “punk” printed in red on the fabric and the faux silver zipper trim.) Her boots were bought this year with a Barbie Extra Mini doll (which I bought primarily for parts) and painted black and sealed with Testor’s sealant.

His black Doc Marten-style boots (with real laces and tongue) and her black polka dotted bow came from this year’s Zuru Mini Fashion series 3 surprise ball pack. (A high quality detailed series of miniatures—I bought only the 2023-2024 series that came with fashion doll shoes.)

I made his neon green “studded” wrist bands from cheap plastic tube beads from Michael’s and painted the studs on with textured silver fabric paint (sealed with Testor’s Dullcote before and after), which is how I made the “studded” red band in her hair.

The parts of the outfits I was most pleased with are their 1980s rock band buttons and emblems. I printed out images from the original band merchandise online on our injet printer, then affixed them to either white thumb tacks, white card paper, or off-white felt with Mod Podge, then I sealed them with Mod Podge 3D “dimensional” clear coating.

His Oingo Boingo square green album button (with cat and Christmas graphic) is from “Nothing to Fear.” (I bent a wire into a square to be a “pin back” attachment glued to the card backing in this button.) His jacket patch (attached to his jacket with a rougher punk DIY style of stitching) is from the first EP “Oingo Boingo,” featuring the Louis Wain cat. Her yellow, pink, and orange Oingo Boingo Louis Wain cat button is supposedly the first button from the first EP.

I used the same method to create her Dead Milkman cow logo button, but I used a rubbery earring packaging plug (which comes on the ends of new earring wires) to affix it to the lapel, instead bending the thumb tack stem back with needle nose pliers, as I did with the other buttons. On her blouse collar’s lapel is a Siouxie and the Banshees band button with a portrait of the lead singer. Some of the ink came off in the glueing, so I carefully filled in the missing bits with a black felt tip pen before sealing.

Saturday morning, I photographed the pair posing together and dancing (including tgeir doing the Pogo) on our white brick mantel in the living room, with the natural light supplemented by a clip-on halo light (attached to my iPhone 13) and my flexible bedroom lamp twisted up from under my arm.

I enjoyed putting these together. It was a similar creative process as when, a few years ago, I repaired and made over some damaged old Sunshine Family dolls into 1980s teens and 1990s Seattle grunge skater kids. I think the pink and black mohawk on the MGA cat head gave me the impetus for this pair.

[johnmarstonswife]

Partners in Crime till’ the Day we Die #5

꣑ৎ ⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓ 𓃗 ⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓ ꣑ৎ

Chapter five: Capitale and Coincidences 2

fandom : red dead redemption online & 2 pairing : sean macguire x f!reader word count : ~2,400 rating : mature warnings : coarse language, gun threatening, spoilers for red dead online, not really anything bad in this chapter summary : with Belladonna exhausted from the long ride, you decide to take a break to do some hunting. But instead of game, an unexpected surprise awaits you.

a/n : woo !! double chapter 🤭 short-ish one but i felt it needed to be cut up for dramatic emphasis. thank you for the support on this story it means everything to me ❤️ and also… the much awaited SEAN IS HERE ‼️

tag list : @m1stea @heloixe

꣑ৎ ⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓ 𓃗 ⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓ ꣑ৎ

Neigh. Neigh. Neigh. Agitated, thoroughly exhausted whines consume the midnight’s cool whilst you try your best to ease Belladonna from how hard and long you rode her for, because you were oh so sick of riding for what seems like a millennia. Speeding Bellaonna to go faster, and faster and faster, to finally get back to your little camp in the desert. Which was nowhere near in sight. Let alone in quite a few miles.

You could feel her toss her head, jerking her body, snorting in irritated fatigue each time you prodded the spur to her side. At this point, she might even buck you off if you don’t slow— or even stop for that matter. You were absolutely determined to arrive at camp before early morning, but Belladonna’s insistent state wasn’t going to let up until she got much needed rest.

“It’s alright, girl… I’m sorry…” You coo, patting her lower neck, trying your best to hush her for any relief of discomfort. Though you knew it wouldn’t do much.

Glancing around, you pull Belladonna to the side of the road— not like anyone would pass by anyway, and open your map. Tracing your finger down the small printed roads, you find yourself on a trail next to ‘Manzanita Post’, just inside the border of Tall Trees. Particularly close to Aurora Basin; the hunting spot Betty, the hunter you saved from those ‘Murfree Brood’, told you about.

A idea entered your mind. Maybe, you could go hunting for that elk she tipped you off about while Belladonna rests. Not too shabby of a plan; you earn some extra money whilst waiting and she gets some vital resting time.

Guiding Belladonna into a canter, you ride down the road towards the vicinity of Aurora Basin. Passing the high, deep, dense trees; occasionally hitting a small bush branch here and there. Twisting along the road around rocky parts and feeling the crisp, gentle breeze on your face. The short ride pleasant for the most part.

But all of a sudden, interrupting your peaceful trot, a giant animal zooms past in front of you across the trail. Yanking back the reins, you try your best to break Belladonna from getting rammed over. The large creature running off into some shrubbery down the road.

Before it fully disappears, you catch a glimpse of… antlers? Replaying the moment in your mind as you attempt to steady your horse. That was surely an elk. You’re sure it was the elk that hunter was talking about as well. It was huge.

You swiftly dart your gaze to the branches broken, riding Belladonna towards the last seen area before it took off elsewhere. Peering around, you hastily pull your bow out from your saddle, not daring to look down in case you spot the elk again.

Grunting, you dismount Belladonna, letting her follow behind you, you continue to stalk through the forest for this hunt. To no avail it seems. Inspecting around every near by tree, boulder, bush— everywhere. It was like it up and dissipated. Poof. Nowhere to be seen. It’s like you’ve been running around in circles at this point.

But at the corner of your eye, you swear you see something move. You promptly but quietly move towards the movement— which for all you know could’ve been the wind.

Treading up to the thick wall of shrubbery, you part the twigs and leaves. Though, it wasn’t an elk that met your eyes.

It was a cabin. A quaint, wooden, isolated, lit cabin. What was a cabin doing in the middle of the forest in Tall Trees? Who knows. But you plan to investigate.

You tell Belladonna to stay, hopping through the bushes and walking up to the place. It looked a little rickety, as if it had been thrown together with some logs, but it was shelter alright. Even included a small glass window at the front and its own dedicated pathway forking off the road.

Arriving in front of the building, you notice quite a bit of trash and a warped table sat outside. As well as a lit lantern hung on a wooden beam, perhaps someone’s inside?

Slinging your bow over your back, you raise your arm up, hovering your clenched fist over the shack like door. Hesitantly knocking thrice. Waiting.

Nothing. Just crickets. You move your hand to the handle, twisting the knob in your fist and pushing it open. Huh. No one’s home. Unlocked too.

You take a look around the place— it’s pretty warm surprisingly, as if someone has been in here recently. Some liquor bottles sit around everywhere; upright on the ground, knocked over on the ground, on the table, and on the chair. Even a lantern gently flickering its flame set on a table.

Thud.

You whip your head around at the sudden noise; it was just the door closing from the breeze.

Wandering further around the place; you think, perchance, if you had to, maybe you could stay here for the night. You mean, assuming it’s freshly abandoned, that is.

Though, all of a sudden, you hear… whistling? Turning around again, this time moving your stare to the window. Spotting through the glass pane the source of that whistling.

A man. That seems to be holding something. Step by step, leisurely walking towards the front door.

Shit. What do you do now? You can’t just say, ‘Hey! I just wandered in here just ‘cause. Was planning on staying here myself actually!’ you’ll either look totally insane or the guy is insane enough he’ll bludgeon your head in. And you can’t just hide, he’ll enviably find you in this tiny place, assume you’re probably trying to rob his house and shoot a bullet into you.

These thoughts race through your head, your eyes dart around, but before you could pick an excuse that wouldn’t get you killed or royally embarrassed, the door creaks open.

Whats even better or worse, the man opens the door using his back. Which seems to be because he’s holding a large beer crate he’d been transporting. You kinda just stand there, waiting for him to turn around to some random lady inside his house.

“WHAT THE FUCK, BUDDY! What the fuck do you want, eh?” The man who sounds to be Irish, demands, yelling out in pure shock. Dropping his beer crate onto the floor in the process. Unholstering his revolver in a hurry and directs the barrel towards you in a threat. “What is it?” He still shouts almost breathless from the scare, clicking the hammer of the gun down. He forbids taking his eyes off you, wearily glaring at you with dusty green eyes. He appears to have ginger hair under his also matching green bowler hat, and wearing a shabby grey jacket.

You just fling your hands up by your sides, not wanting to get shot by this stranger with a wrong move. Stammering sounds that you couldn’t be sure classed as words. “Uh— I, I—“

“Wanna get yerself killed or something, huh?” The man still shouts with the same fervour, still aiming the steel gun towards you, though not daring to pull the trigger any time soon. “I don’t like gettin’ surprised.” He doesn’t let the grip of the revolver falter, though his voice was significantly less baffled than before. Although, still carrying the same threat in his tone.

“Shit.” He hisses a curse under his breath, for the first time diverting his gaze away. But swiftly shifting his watch back, to make sure you don’t do anything funny, you guess.

“I—“ You frantically rack your brain for any excuse, reason, story that could be convincing enough to calm the gun-wielding Irishman. “…do.. do you need help…?” Was the only thing you could creep out your mouth. What a dumb question. Damnit. Who even enters a random cabin in the middle of the night and ask if they need help? Help for what? Getting their shit robbed? You slap yourself up in your mind, a war zone going into complete chaos inside your head. Searching the man’s features for any hint of aggression or disbelief. Why, why, why did you decide to stumble in here?

“You lookin’ for…?” He starts, your heart jumping out your chest as he does, hearing your heart pound in your ears. The anticipation practically hurting. “Ah, you lookin’ for work, that it?”

You almost sigh of relief as he says that. “Yeah…” You exhale, nodding your head cautiously as to not raise more suspicion. But, work? You really don’t have a clue what he means by work. What did you get into now…

The man just drones a dry laugh to himself, revolver still there, threatening you, making you doubt if you said the correct response.

“I know the type, eh. Strong, adventurous, real frightening.” He exaggerates sarcastically with a few head bobs, lowering his revolver back into his holster in a swift movement. “A rolling stone gathers no moss.” The unknown man jeers in a deeper voice whilst quoting a saying. “That type of shite, is it?” He picks back up the beer crate from the floor and walks deeper into the cabin.

“Well ‘scuse you.” You scoff lightly, taking offence, though not really; only the fact this cocky bastard talked so much damn unnecessary jabber— correcting his manners is all. Well, to be fair since when did you have impeccable manners anyway? And honestly, you’re really just glad that worked.

“No need to take offence now. Only jokin’ with ya—” He assures with an Irish trill, stepping towards the plank table to set down the crate of booze. Before pausing for a second under his breath, “partly.”

The sly comment wedged in actually coaxing a small entertained chuckle to spring out of you. The audacious, ginger bastard rather amusing.

With a clear of his throat he carries on talking. “I’ve temporarily lost me friends, it’s a fokin’ disaster.” He complains, fiddling with the crate. “I had them. I went away for a couple of days on a killing of a bastard I owed a killing to. Ah, good man.” The man retells, grabbing an empty glass bottle or two scattered across the table. Appearing to be cleaning up the tossed liquor bottles in a gathering on the table, to make room for a fresh batch of new booze to be thrown about.

You help, reaching down to the ground, picking up a stray bottle and handing it to him whilst he continuous his story. Killing? You had just assumed— well, he was a hunter or something. Maybe trade? To be fair, this man didn’t really look all that ‘hunter-like’ in the first place, if that made sense. You just… didn’t except it. Not like it deterred you anyway. Look at you.

“And I lost the folk I ride with. Big bunch, Not like you lot.” He concludes gathering the rest of the empty bottles up, pausing with his hand rested on his hip, facing you. “Nah, we lived like sultans in our fokin’ tents.” The Irishman thinks back. “I’ll find them again. I’ve lost ‘em before, ya know.”

He turns back round again, this time picking a fresh beer bottle out the crate and setting it on the table, darting his eyes in the crate once more as if looking for a ‘good’ beer— to which they’re probably all were the same.

“Once was for three months, it was. That’s how it goes, I guess.” He then hands you a beer bottle, the feeling of lukewarm glass against your hands before cracking it open with practice.

“Huh, thanks.” You cheers it reluctantly before taking a long sip. The golden, yeasty liquid trickling down your throat.

“Anyway, where was I?” He ponders to himself, holding his own bottle and heading towards a chair in the corner of the room.

“Ah, yeah, yeah… murder and mayhem.” The man snickers to himself again, seating himself down in the rather rickety chair. The warm orange of the fireplace dancing on his face. “Now, I don’t like to kill innocent folk myself. Gives me a real nasty feeling inside.”

“Think that’s normal to feel… Dunno, maybe it’s called humanity or something.” Your voice drips of sarcasm. A small crease tugs at the corners of your lips, raising a wilful eyebrow at the Irishman. Leaning back against a counter just across from him.

“Oh, not like yer much better than me. You’re the one seeking the job, lass.” He retorted back with a wave of his hand, gulping down a swig of beer with a grunt. “…But these bastards, well— I don’t know how innocent these bastards are.” The man pauses.

“There’s a stage, runs out of Aurora Basin. Now, I heard a fella say it’s laden with silver. I can’t rob It, and I can’t guarantee someone else isn’t going to try.” He admits with a tilt of his bottle.

You didn’t expect to stumble into a stagecoach robbery tonight. That’s for certain. But here you are. By coincidence.

“You can’t rob it,” You repeat back to him. “So you’re gettin’ me to for you?” Crossing your arms with a swirl of knowingness and damn ludicrousness of the situation; from the pure audacity of this man. Scoffing faintly with a quirk of your smile again.

“Hey, it’d be a rotten shame to let it pass by.” He widened his arms with a shrug, a roguish grin on his face. And damnit, he’s right. If there is good money in that coach, why the hell wouldn’t you grab it.

You breathe a sharp sigh, springing up from the edge of the counter and lifting off your gamblers hat. Lazily running your fingers through your strands. “Alright. I better get a nice cut of the earnings.” You quickly skull the rest of the hoppy brew, placing the brown bottle with a clank on the wood. Turning back around towards the doorway.

“Oh don’t worry, there’ll be plenty waitin’ for ya...” The man reassures with a quaff, watching you turn on your heel and walk away.

But, just before you could disappear into the darkness, he calls out like he’s forgotten something.

“Hey—“ You spin your head back to the door to the noise. “Didn’t catch yer name,”

“Red. Just call me Red.”

“Red. Sean Macguire.” He smirks, baring a few missing teeth as he introduces himself. Almost endearing. Strangely.

“Ain't every day someone walks up callin' themselves Red. You’re a mystery already, Red." Sean grins slyly with a teasing edge, an inflection in his Irish lilt.

“Shut up—“ You scoff to yourself, though barely any harsh tones weaved in. Pivoting back around to the dark forest outside, languidly waving your hand above your head. Disappearing into the night, in search of a promised hold up.

What a strange man.

꣑ৎ ⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓ 𓃗 ⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓ ꣑ৎ

so, i know the poll for what the reader introduces themselves as isn’t finished, BUT I NEEDED TO RELEASE THIS CHAPTER 🙂‍↕️ currently the use of nicknames/alias is winning, so that’s what i did ! i also tried my best to add in dialogue that is unique to the reader and sean, like changing a few stuff to aline with the story. please tell me if it’s natural because i have no clue 😭🙏

[winterreigned]

@prodigum me throwing another starter at u despite all my drafts

𝖎𝖙'𝖘 𝖕𝖔𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖇𝖑𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖉𝖎𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖆 𝖇𝖗𝖔𝖐𝖊𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙. at least it feels that way in this very moment. one second, she is having the time of her life with her sorority sisters, the next ; graphic flashbacks of her father's accident. grief doesn't discriminate, nor does it care what you're doing and where. it's like the tide, coming in and out, and when that tide is high, you are sure to be drowning underneath its current. the drink in her solo cup was her attempt at oxygen, though despite how much she tried to resuscitate herself with cheap beer and jungle juice, all sansa achieved was frantic hysterics on top of drowning depression.

she didn't wish to return to school this semester. she swore to her mother she'd go to school at home online, she'd help her with the younger boys. though, as any mother would insist, catelyn stark knew sansa's ambitions in academia were far too deep to put on the back burner. so, here she was. some days sansa is far too distracted with lectures, exams, and charity galas to process it all. though days like today, grief sneaks in when she dares enjoy life.

there is a benefit, however, in all this mess. winterfell state is not just her school - but her older brother's as well. taking shaky breaths, sansa abandons the dorm party, hiking halfway across campus to find robb's room. there is no one else on this campus who knows what she's going through better than him - and these past few months they've been able to provide each other solace, while maintaining a life of somewhat normality. the air is ice, which shoots her with the sobering thoughts that crop tops and short skirts may work for a dorm party, but not in winterfell in the dead of winter. sansa is shaking, though this is more from the distressed sobs leaving her than the cold.

arriving at his door, she raises a delicate and frozen fist to knock thrice. the young girl is forcing deep breaths to calm hysterics and to avoid looking like a drunken mess. prior to her father's death, the only other time robb had seen her like this was after joffrey... she'd hate for his mind to go there, when this was not the case at all. sansa turns her back to the door, desperately trying to collect herself between hiccups and sobs. when she hears the door open, she whirls around, red curls twirling. swallowing, she sees theon - her brother's roommate, best friend, shadow, childhood nuisance... she need not go on.

typically, she'd throw him a snarky comment, sarcasm the fuel between the pair. but right now her feet are on tip toes to see past him, blue eyes scanning the room for any sign of her brother. there is none, which causes teeth to worry on her bottom lip. another desperate sob erupts from her, leaving sansa to do something she'd never consider if fully sober or sane: bury her head in theon's chest and wrap her arms around him. she has no choice but to blubber into him.

❝ i - i'm so sorry, ❞ sansa whispers hoarsely to him. the muscles in her chest tighten, her teeth and jaw clench as she tries to anchor herself. ❝ i didn't know where else to go... i - i don't want to feel like this anymore. ❞

[talesofdelight]

Sugar City Rockers

VC: Bonnie MacFarlane from the Red Dead Redemption games

Background: From the same town as Cheri yet they never really interacted. Another who comes from a big family, and being one of the younger siblings, she was challenged with trying to get her parents attention. When they discovered her talent for singing and songwriting, things went a little bad. Being about 17 and thrown into a singing competition gave her attention from different labels but also incredibly overwhelmed her. After releasing a few songs in the country genre, one of them being a top hit, she ultimately quit. She met SCR when they were doing a small gig at a bar in downtown Sourbite City and cringed at how disorganized they were. She offered to help them out with the connections she had as well as give them tips on how to be better organized and as they grew in fame, she ended up sticking around (and the band didn’t want to lose her anyway). 

Special ability: “Sugar Coating” - This allows her to make her words incredibly persuasive if she chooses

VC: Marshall Lee

Background: From Confectia. He grew up in a pretty rowdy environment though, his parents pretty much gave up on raising him and his older sister, so his sister was always taking care of him, sometimes having to shoplift before she was old enough to get a part time job. When he entered high school, he was now living with his sister and her husband (no, the husband wasn’t a jerk), but during that time Devon wasn’t the best person. He would shoplift, bully those he deemed weaker than him, and kept giving his sister a hard time about their living conditions. When he moved past this era, he hated himself for how he treated others, especially his sister. He joined SCR in college when Eric reached out to him after watching him play the guitar. About a year before the main story takes place is when his sister and her husband passed away in a car accident and he took custody of his niece Lulu. He doesn’t feel like he’s good enough to be her guardian, but they’re all the other has.

Special ability: “Crackle” - He can generate electricity from his hands and mouth

VC: Leon Kennedy

Background: He spent his school years not really caring about anything and went about his days doing whatever he pleased. In college he had this bright idea to start a band similar to the rock bands he loved and looked up to so much. So he made it his mission to find musicians for this hypothetical band. First he recruited his childhood friend DJ, after that Devon, and finally Natalia. He had to convince his parents over dinner to let him and the band practice in their garage.

Special ability: “Shock Toss” - Eric can create small electric orbs in the palms of his hands that he can throw

 VC: Dark Choco Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Background: Only child. Grew up with Eric. DJ is just a nickname. He’s not shy, he’s just antisocial but he tries to talk more with his bandmates. Does his best to be a good uncle to Lulu.

Special ability: “Crystal Ball” - If DJ concentrates hard enough, then he can see events no matter where they are, though the farther the distance the fuzzier the image. He mostly uses this ability to keep track of his band mates

VC: Gwen from Total Drama Island

Background: From the Bitterlands, but doesn’t act like it, she is a fire cracker. Another where the city lights of Flavorvale drew her attention. Went to college for music studies which is when she met the guys and ultimately joined their lil ragtag group. It was around this time that she met Lyrica online and later on they began dating. 

Special ability: “Sweet Screech” - Anyone who is unfortunate enough to hear this ability at full volume will become completely paralyzed

VC: Anais Watterson from The Amazing World of Gumball

Background: Before the incident, she was actually very happy go lucky and loved being with her parents and hanging out with her uncle Devon and his friends when they would visit. Afterwards, everything flipped. She remembers sitting in the office of child services and listening to the adults talking about what happened. Then her uncle Devon showed up and everything seemed like it might be okay again. She knows that he’s doing his best, so she also does her best to not have him worry about her.

Special ability: Hasn’t formed yet... or has it?

[mrbingley]

i'm working on a ttrpg for my family for christmas (mom and two siblings) when they visit. the gist of it is: santa letter heist. all santa letters with no return and no deliverable address are sent to the mail recovery center in atlanta, georgia (this is true (there will be more true things: fun lil info about the postal service incorporated in just b/c i have always been a lil fascinated with it)). every year elves have to break in and steal all the santa letters so santa can read them.

one postal worker is convinced elves are stealing their mail but no one believes them (very crocker from fairy god parents). yr after yr this sole worker has added to the security of the facility in hopes of catching the elves. there will be fun traps. one room will be a maze of lasers that the players only have five seconds to look at before they have to pick a spot/path to start on (which may or may not be a dead end) and a laser that moves across the room will make them have to keep going.

there will be an NPC “elf” who joins the players on this heist. but they’re actually a leprechaun. they wear all green instead of the festive christmas red/green elves typically wear. they dyed their ginger hair white and the tips of their fingers are white (but, oh, that’s just snow or sugar powder!). they agreed to help the postal worker take down the elves in exchange for all the gold that was in any of the letters/packages sent here.

once the players get to the final room where the letters are stored, the leprechaun books it for the pile of gold—not the santa letters—and alerts the postal worker who is hiding in a fake bag of letters. boss fight ensues.

i haven’t come up with the mechanics yet but they’ll be simple. one of the elf abilities will def be “giving spirit” where they can compel someone to give them something with the power of the gift giving spirit of christmas (can only use this once and still have to roll for it).

my twin already pitched her elf character. who doesn’t live in the north pole anymore and lives in arizona like a cowboy. when they lived in the north pole they were the one who wrangled and taught the reindeer (they loved cowboys from a young age and no one believed in their ability to be a cowboy so they had to teach themselves how to be one with the reindeer). they wear regular cowboy boots but because they’re a tiny elf the cowboy boots look like thigh high boots on them. the reindeer are def the players getaway vehicle. i'll think of other ways to incorporate my twin's elf's backstory into the mechanics and plot.

i'll be making illustrations of their elves. maps. item cards or scenes that would be fun to see. possibly some sort of tangible, physical mechanic (like the popularity/high society meter in the court of fey and flowers (maybe a nice vs naughty meter; and elves intrinsically mustn't drop into naughty or it hurts / maddens / mutates them?)).

anyway. i’m excited to dig into a project like this that can consume my attention for the next couple months. i'm doing this because 1) it's fun to make and run campaigns 2) i'm too dang poor to buy anyone christmas gifts this year 3) i want to make a one shot that is fun and polished enough that i can publish online.

[primatechnosynthpop]

Was seized by the supernatural urge to redraw some of my old nkotr art (mostly based on my own fics/aus because that's uhh pretty much the only time I drew them in an interesting way heheh)

[ID: two versions of an alternate cover image for Your Computer has a Virus, and it's Killing Your Online Friends. The new kids are in their jumpsuits from Computer Fighters. Neil is holding a floppy disk labeled "virus" and looking over his shoulder with a scared expression as multicoloured glitch effects surround and overtake him. Below this, Kevin grits his teeth and makes a fist while Ryan sadly puts a hand on his shoulder.

The colours in the new piece are more saturated and the glitch effects are done differently, and there's shading. Neil has his helmet, which was missing from the original, Kevin is visibly sweating and his fist is on the other side, and Ryan looks more resigned whereas in the original he has his mouth open. End ID]

[ID: two versions of a piece featuring fantasy versions of the new kids standing in front of a colourful roulette wheel marked with ominous symbols. Kevin is a human fighter, Neil is an elf bard, and Ryan is a tiefling warlock. The dark purple background is lit up with hot pink at the top and bright orange, purple, and green behind each of the guys to contrast their respective colour coding.

The old piece was done in an attempt at a realistic style, while the new version is in the artist's usual more cartoony style. The new kids' poses, expressions, and outfits are all changed to varying degrees; most notably, Neil's elf ears are bigger and Ryan's skin is red rather than a human skin tone. Ryan also has a cape instead of a jacket this time. In the original, they all look rather apprehensive, while in the new version they look more excited. Text has been added above them reading "The Only Lich Lair... With A Wheel!!" End ID]

[ID: two versions of a piece where Neil and Ryan are catboys and Kevin is a dogboy. Neil is in a cutesy pose with his hands raised like paws, Ryan is sitting or crouching with a dead mouse in his mouth, and Kevin is holding a football with scuff marks on it. In addition to the regular clothes they're wearing, Neil and Kevin have collars; Neil's has a bell in the shape of the lemon demon logo.

The colours in the original are washed out and there's a little dog logo on Kevin's football which is missing in the newer version. The colours of Neil's outfit are different and his leg is bent more, Ryan now has a box to sit on and has cat pupils while the others still have human eyes, and Kevin is now wearing a baseball cap. A gradiented blue background has been added along with yellow text at the top reading "Guar-NYAN-teed Video", with a paw print in place of the G*V logo's asterisk. End ID]

+ a couple bonuses:

[ID: a follow-up to the "Only Lich Lair" piece. The new kids are now injured and look miserable. Kevin has grown a beard and lost his hair, and is wearing a blindfold over where his eyes would be. He's also lost his armour. Neil's hair is frazzled and he's covered in singe marks, and he's lost a hand and got a chunk taken out of one ear. His instrument is also missing. Ryan has an eyepatch, has the tip of one horn taken off, and is frozen. He's also lost his wizard hat and the clasp for his cape. The bright lights in the background are gone save for the pink at the top, which drips down like blood; the text is also removed. End ID]

[ID: a sketch of Kevin wearing a sweater and scarf, holding half a broken sword shouting angrily, based on a scene from I'm Gonna be the Anti-Hero. An old version of this doodle is shrunken down in the upper left corner. Colour has been added to the new version, as well as blood spatter on Kevin and tears in his eyes. End ID]

[fogaminghub]

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