#Something to fiddle with while I keep working on drafts

[shadovan]

Inbox call. 🖤

Could be a meme, could be chaos, we’ll see when he gets there.

[missarchive]

hardcover hearts - spencer reid

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

who? bookstore owner spencer reid x fem!reader

category: fluff, smut, awkward hopeless romantic!spencer

content warnings: NSFW MDNI!! loss of virginity, unprotected p in v, sub!spencer, dom!reader, fade to black smut

word count: 4.5k

a/n: finally clearing out my drafts! as always, feedback is greatly appreciated.

You’re not sure when it started. Maybe it was the first time you walked into the little bookstore tucked into a quiet corner of the city. Or perhaps it was the second time, where you lingered just long enough to notice the awkwardly endearing owner behind the counter, his messy hair and kind smile hard to miss. Whatever it was, you found yourself coming back every Friday, drawn to both the books and the man who sold them.

The owner, Spencer Reid, seemed as much a part of the bookstore as the shelves themselves. It was his dream come to life–a cozy haven filled with the stories he loved. And, while he wasn't exactly outgoing, there was something charming about the way he awkwardly pushed his glasses up on the days he wore them, or rambled when you asked for a recommendation. 

Today was no different. Or, at least, it didn't start out that way.

You stepped into the shop, the bell above the door chiming softly. Spencer was behind the counter, organising a stack of novels. When he looked up and saw you, his eyes widened slightly, and he nearly dropped the books in his hands. 

“Hi, Spencer,” you greeted, offering him a warm smile.

“H-Hi,” he stammered, fumbling to adjust his glasses. “Good to see you. Uh, new arrivals are on the table by the window, if you’re interested.”

“Perfect,” you replied, heading toward the display.

As you browsed, you felt his gaze on you now and then, though he quickly looked away whenever you glanced in his direction. It was cute, how shy he was. You spent some time scanning the shelves, fingers grazing the spines of books, before finally making your selection and heading back to the counter.

When you placed the book in front of him, you couldn’t help but notice his reaction. Spencer’s face turned bright red as he glanced down at the title—a spicy romance novel with a sultry cover that left little to the imagination.

“This one caught my eye,” you said, trying to sound casual but secretly amused by his flustered expression.

“O-Oh,” he stammered, fumbling with the scanner. “That’s, uh, a good choice. I mean, it’s very… popular.”

“You’ve read it?” you teased, watching as his blush deepened.

“What? No!” he blurted, then immediately winced at his own outburst. “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with reading it. It’s just not, uh, my usual genre.”

You laughed softly, enjoying how endearing he was. “It’s okay, Spencer. I’m sure it’ll be a… fun read.”

He nodded wordlessly, scanning the book and placing it carefully in a bag as if it were fragile. When he handed it to you, his fingers brushed yours, and you felt a small spark that made your stomach flutter.

“Thanks,” you said, lingering just a moment longer. “See you next week?”

“Y-Yeah. See you next week,” he replied, his voice barely audible.

As you walked out the door, you glanced back to see him sitting down behind the counter, his face buried in his hands. You couldn’t help but smile, wondering if he’d ever work up the courage to say more. Until then, you’d keep coming back, hoping that one day he might make the first move. After all, you had plenty of time—and plenty of books to read.

Friday had rolled around again, and as usual, you found yourself eagerly stepping into Spencer’s bookstore. The familiar chime of the bell felt like a call to a place that was quickly becoming your favorite corner of the world.

Spencer was at the counter, as always, fiddling with a stack of receipts. His cardigan today was navy blue, and his hair had that perpetually tousled look that you were starting to associate with him. When he noticed you, his eyes widened slightly, and his hands froze mid-motion.

“H-Hi,” he greeted, his voice a bit higher-pitched than usual.

“Hi, Spencer,” you replied, giving him a warm smile. “How’s it going?”

“It’s, um, good. Quiet morning,” he said, quickly adjusting his glasses, though they didn’t look even remotely out of place. “And you? Finding anything interesting?”

“Not yet,” you said, heading to the shelves. “But I’m sure I will.”

You browsed for a bit, your fingers tracing over the spines of books. You could feel Spencer’s gaze flitting toward you every so often, though he tried to look busy whenever you turned around. Finally, you selected a new title—a romantic suspense novel with a rather provocative cover.

When you placed it on the counter, Spencer’s reaction was immediate. His face turned an unmistakable shade of red, and his mouth opened as if to say something, but no words came out. He stared at the book for a moment too long before fumbling with the scanner.

“This one looks fun,” you said casually, watching his expression closely.

“F-Fun,” he repeated, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s… popular. A lot of people seem to, um, enjoy it.”

You bit back a grin as he carefully bagged the book, avoiding your gaze entirely. But instead of handing it over right away, Spencer hesitated. His fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the bag, and his brow furrowed as if he were wrestling with something internally.

“Is everything okay?” you asked gently.

He glanced up at you, his eyes wide and nervous. “I—I need to ask you something. Or, um, say something. If that’s okay.”

“Of course,” you said, curiosity piqued.

Spencer set the bag down and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, a telltale sign of his nervousness. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before finally speaking.

“I—uh, I can’t stop thinking about the books you’ve been buying,” he blurted, his words rushing out in a tumble. “Not in a bad way! It’s just—they’re very… romantic. And… intimate. And I guess I just started wondering if—if you read them because you like the stories, or because…”

His voice trailed off, and he looked absolutely mortified. You tilted your head, letting him flounder for a moment before gently prompting, “Because…?”

“Because I don’t know anything about that stuff!” he admitted, his cheeks blazing. “I mean, I’ve read about it, obviously—academically. But I’ve never… I’m not exactly… experienced. And it made me realize how, um, unprepared I’d be if—if someone ever expected me to…”

He cut himself off, burying his face in his hands. “Oh my God. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. Please forget I said that.”

Your heart softened at his vulnerable confession. Slowly, you reached out and touched his hand, coaxing him to look up.

“Spencer,” you said gently, your tone free of judgment. “It’s okay. Really.”

He peeked at you through his fingers, his expression equal parts mortified and hopeful. “It is?”

“Yes,” you assured him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s actually kind of… sweet that you’re so honest about it. Most people wouldn’t admit something like that.”

Spencer exhaled shakily, lowering his hands. “I just… I didn’t want you to think I’m avoiding the topic because I’m, uh, judging you or anything. It’s the opposite, actually. I think you’re…”

He stopped himself, clearly unsure if he should continue.

“You think I’m…?” you prompted, your heart beating a little faster.

“I think you’re amazing,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours. “And way out of my league. But I can’t stop thinking about you. Or the books you’ve been buying. And I—” He swallowed hard. “I don’t want to mess this up by being… me.”

Your chest tightened at his earnestness. “Spencer,” you said, your voice warm. “You’re not going to mess anything up. If anything, you’re the reason I keep coming back here.”

His eyes widened. “Really?”

“Really,” you said, smiling. “And for the record, I think it’s brave of you to admit all of this. It makes me like you even more.”

Spencer blinked, as if your words didn’t compute right away. “You… like me?”

“I do,” you said simply. “And if you want, maybe we could… take things slow? Get to know each other better? No expectations, just us?”

A small, tentative smile broke across Spencer’s face. “I’d like that. A lot.”

You took the bag from the counter, your fingers brushing his as you did. “Good. Then it’s a date.”

Spencer’s blush returned full force, but this time, there was a spark of confidence in his eyes. “A date,” he echoed, his voice soft but certain.

As you left the store, you glanced back and saw him standing there, still looking a little dazed but undeniably happy. You couldn’t wait to see what came next.

You couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves as you walked into the small café where you and Spencer had agreed to meet. It wasn’t far from the bookstore, and the cozy ambiance—a mix of soft lighting and the smell of fresh coffee—felt like the perfect backdrop for your first date.

Spencer was already there, sitting at a small table by the window. He was fidgeting with his watch, glancing at the door every few seconds. When he saw you, his face lit up, and he quickly stood, almost knocking over his chair in the process.

“Hi,” he said, his voice just a little too loud before he cleared his throat and tried again. “Hi.”

“Hi, Spencer,” you replied, smiling at his endearing nervousness.

“I, uh, got us a table,” he said, gesturing awkwardly. “It’s by the window because I thought you might like the view. But if you don’t, we can move. Or—”

“This is perfect,” you interrupted gently, taking the seat across from him.

He visibly relaxed, sitting down as well. A server appeared, and you both placed your orders—coffee for him, tea for you, and a couple of pastries to share.

“So,” Spencer began once the server left, clasping his hands on the table. “I, um, did some research on first dates.”

“You did research?” you asked, amused but not surprised.

“Yes,” he admitted, blushing. “I wanted to make sure I, uh, didn’t mess this up. Apparently, asking questions is a good way to, um, get to know someone better.”

“You’re doing great so far,” you assured him.

He smiled, his nerves slowly giving way to that boyish charm you were growing so fond of. “Okay. So, um… what made you start coming to the bookstore? Was it just the books, or…?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Well, the books were part of it. But the owner? He might’ve been the bigger reason.”

Spencer blinked, caught off guard. “Me? Why me?”

“Why not you?” you countered. “You’re smart, sweet, and passionate about what you do. Plus, you have great taste in quotes.”

He ducked his head, clearly flustered. “That’s, um, very kind of you to say.”

“It’s true,” you said firmly.

Spencer’s coffee arrived, sickly sweet, giving him a moment to recover. He stirred it thoughtfully before glancing up at you, his expression more serious now.

“Can I ask you something?” he said.

“Of course.”

“It’s about the books,” he admitted, his blush deepening. “The, um, romance ones you’ve been buying.”

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “What about them?”

“I’ve just been… curious,” he said, stumbling over his words. “About what you like about them. Not that there’s anything wrong with liking them! I just—well, I don’t really understand the appeal. But I want to.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his earnestness. “Are you asking because you want to understand me better?”

“Yes,” he admitted without hesitation.

Your heart swelled at his honesty. “Well, for me, it’s not just about the romance or the steamy parts—though those can be fun,” you said, watching his blush deepen. “It’s about the connection between the characters. The tension, the buildup, the way they overcome obstacles to be together. It’s… exciting and comforting all at once.”

Spencer nodded thoughtfully, his brows furrowed in concentration. “So it’s about the emotional journey, not just the… physical aspects?”

“Exactly,” you said. “Though I won’t lie—the physical parts are written pretty well too.”

Spencer’s ears turned bright red, and he took a long sip of his coffee to hide his face. You laughed softly, reaching across the table to touch his hand.

“Spencer,” you said, your tone light but sincere. “You don’t have to worry about comparing yourself to fictional characters. You’re already more thoughtful and charming than most of them.”

“Really?” he asked, his voice small but hopeful.

“Really,” you said, squeezing his hand.

He smiled, a genuine, heart-melting smile that made you forget about everything else around you.

The rest of the date passed in a blur of conversation and laughter. Spencer opened up about his love of obscure literature and his dream of turning his bookstore into a community hub for readers. You told him more about yourself, and by the time the check came, it felt like you’d known each other for years.

As you left the café, Spencer walked you to your car, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He hesitated for a moment before saying, “This was… really nice. Better than I thought I’d be at, honestly.”

“You did great,” you assured him, stepping closer. “I had a wonderful time.”

“So did I,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours.

For a moment, it felt like the world paused. Then, tentatively, Spencer leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek. It was quick and sweet, but it left you feeling warm all over.

“Goodnight,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

“Goodnight, Spencer,” you replied, smiling as you got into your car.

Just as Spencer turned to head back toward the bookstore, you rolled down your window and called out, “Spencer, wait!”

He stopped mid-step, turning to look at you with wide eyes.

“Do you want to come back to my place?” you asked, your voice soft but sure.

His surprise melted into a shy, hopeful smile. “I’d like that.”

The ride to your apartment was quiet, but the tension between you was undeniable. Spencer sat with his hands tightly clasped, his gaze flickering to you every so often. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable—it was charged, like the moment before a storm.

Inside, you gestured toward the couch. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab us some tea.”

He hesitated for a second before perching on the edge of the couch, his eyes scanning the room like he was trying to take in every detail. By the time you returned, he’d stood again, nervously wandering over to your bookshelf.

His fingers brushed one of the novels you’d recently bought, and when you handed him his mug, he was staring at the sultry cover. “This one…” he murmured, trailing off as his face flushed.

You set your tea down and stepped closer, gently taking the book from his hands and placing it back on the shelf. “Forget about that,” you said softly, your voice steady.

Spencer turned to you, his face still flushed, his lips slightly parted as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. You smiled, stepping closer, until you were just inches apart.

When your hand reached up to brush a curl from his forehead, he froze, his breath catching. Slowly, you let your fingers trail down to his jaw, cupping it gently. His skin was warm under your touch, his pulse racing beneath your fingertips.

The first kiss was soft, tentative. You barely brushed your lips against his, testing the waters. Spencer exhaled sharply, his hands twitching at his sides before finally landing on your waist.

When you kissed him again, he responded more eagerly, leaning into you as his grip on your hips tightened. His movements were unpolished, hesitant, but there was something intoxicating about his inexperience—the way he kissed you like he couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

You guided him gently, deepening the kiss as you pressed closer, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair. A soft sound escaped him, half-surprise, half-pleasure, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

Spencer pulled back just enough to look at you, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. His lips were slightly swollen, his expression caught between awe and uncertainty.

You didn’t give him time to overthink. You tugged him down onto the couch, straddling his lap as his hands instinctively found your waist again. His touch was tentative but firm, his fingers curling against your sides as if he was afraid to let go.

When your lips found his again, Spencer let out a quiet groan, the sound muffled against your mouth. His awkwardness was still there, but it was paired with a growing confidence as he followed your lead, his kisses becoming bolder, deeper.

Your mouth tastes like honey, and his lips are warm and soft. The contrast makes him smile into the kiss, pulling back ever-so-slightly, looking down at you and taking his lower lip between his teeth. He looks sheepish, but also pleased with himself.

He was shy, hesitant, and extremely adorable.

"Can we do that again?" He asks, a little breathlessly, his eyes hopeful.

"Sure, Spence, anything you want," You smile softly, cupping his cheeks and bringing his face down towards yours.

Spencer lets out a noise halfway between a groan and a whimper when your tongues meet. His arms tighten around your waist and he pulls you closer, pressing his body against yours.

His hands are large, and hot, and they almost cover your back as his fingertips draw patterns across your skin.

"Have you done this before, Spencer?"

He blushes. "Y-yeah, uhm… actually no. I- I mean I’ve kissed people before! I just-”

You quickly cut him off, pressing a finger to his plush, pink lips. “Let me lead you.’

He nods, his gaze dropping to your lips as his breathing picks up. You smile, tilting his chin up and kissing him softly, his lips parting instantly for you.

You pull back a few moments later, his eyes dark and full of longing as he stares at you.

"Lay down and let me take care of you, pretty boy."

"O-okay." He whispers, nodding his head and moving to the floor, lying on his back.

You crawl over him, his breath hitching as you position yourself above his hips. You can feel the hardness of his cock through the material of his pants and you press yourself down against it, drawing a low moan from his throat.

He closes his eyes, his lips parting as he lets out a soft gasp. His hands reach up to grip your hips, pulling you closer as his breathing grows faster.

"Fuck," he murmurs, his eyes still closed as he rocks his hips upwards. You can feel him growing harder and thicker with each movement, and you press down harder, rubbing yourself against him.

"Please," He whines, his hands fumbling at the front of your dress. "I need- I want-"

"Shh, it's okay, Spencer. I've got you."

He lets out a shaky breath, nodding his head. His fingers slip beneath the hem of your dress and slide over your thighs, moving upwards until they brush the edges of your underwear. You shift slightly, allowing him better access.

He lets out a soft gasp as his fingers brush over the wet spot on the fabric, his cock twitching against your core. You roll your hips against his, feeling his length harden beneath you, and his eyes flutter open, looking up at you with a desperate, pleading expression.

"I'm yours, Spencer. Take what you need."

"God," He whispers, his voice breaking. "I want you so badly."

He surges up, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue seeking yours out. You moan into his mouth, pressing your hips harder against his.

"Take it, baby," you whisper, your lips brushing against his as you break the kiss, leaning down to press your mouth to the delicate curve of his neck. Your tongue flicks against his pulse point before you suck gently, drawing a needy whimper from him. His breath is ragged, his chest heaving as his hands grip your hips like you might slip away.

His fingers tremble as they venture beneath the waistband of your panties, the tentative touch sending a shiver racing down your spine. “Please,” he whispers, voice breaking, raw with need. “Just want to feel you.”

With shaking hands, he eases the fabric down your legs, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of awe and hunger. His fingers ghost over your inner thighs, exploring the soft skin with a featherlight touch. His breath catches audibly when his fingertips graze over your warmth, the slickness there making his movements glide effortlessly.

Slowly, tentatively, he drags his fingers up through your folds, his touch hesitant but electrifying. The warmth of your arousal coats his digits, allowing them to press into you with ease. You gasp softly at the intrusion, your hips rolling forward instinctively, grinding against his hand as you bury your face into the crook of his neck.

Your lips trace a line along his jaw, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses that make him shudder beneath you. His voice is barely audible when he chokes out, “Like this?” His brows furrow with concentration, his inexperience evident but endearing.

Your walls flutter around him, pulling him deeper, and he groans low in his throat. “Yes,” you breathe, your voice hitching as you rock against his hand. “Just like that.”

You lift yourself slightly, reaching between you to help free him from his boxers. His cock springs free, hard and aching, the tip brushing against your entrance and sending a jolt of heat through you both.

He groans, his head falling back, lips parted as he struggles to catch his breath. His eyelids flutter closed, and his hands grip your hips, tentative but steady, guiding you as you sink down onto him. A low moan escapes you as he fills you, the stretch delicious and all-consuming, igniting a slow, smouldering heat that spreads through your entire body.

You pause for a moment, savouring the way he feels inside you, how perfectly he fits. Beneath you, Spencer’s breath hitches, his chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow gasps. His fingers tighten against your skin, trembling slightly as though he’s barely holding himself together.

“Look at you,” you murmur, your voice low and sultry as you brush a hand through his sweat-damp curls. “So fucking pretty, Spencer. You feel so good inside me.”

His eyes flutter open at your words, wide and glassy with awe. “You—you’re incredible,” he stammers, his voice cracking slightly.

You smile, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth, your hips starting to roll in slow, deliberate movements. “Doing so well f’me, baby,” you praise, your voice breathy. “Fill me up so nicely.”

A deep groan escapes him, his grip on your hips growing firmer as he instinctively lifts his own to meet your movements. His inexperience is evident in the unsteady rhythm, but the sincerity and hunger behind every thrust make your stomach tighten with pleasure.

“That’s it, Spencer,” you murmur, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “Just like that. Keep going, baby—making me feel so good.”

He gasps, the sound turning into a soft whimper as you grind down on him harder, taking him even deeper. “I-I can’t believe this,” he breathes, his voice raw with emotion. “You’re so perfect, I don’t—God, I don’t deserve this.”

You pull back just enough to cup his jaw, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Hey,” you whisper, your tone firm but tender. “Don’t say that. You’re amazing, Spencer. You deserve this—you deserve everything.”

His lips part, but whatever words he might have said are lost in a broken moan as you start moving faster, your hips rocking in a steady rhythm that has him gripping you tighter, his nails pressing into your skin.

“Feel how wet you make me?” you murmur, your voice dripping with heat as you guide his hand down between your bodies, letting his fingers brush against where your bodies are joined. “That’s all for you, Spencer. You’re driving me crazy.”

He groans deeply, his eyes squeezing shut as his hand lingers there, his touch hesitant but electrifying. “I—I’ve never...” His voice trails off into a shuddering gasp as you grind against him harder.

“You’re perfect,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his neck as you kiss and suck at the sensitive skin there. “So good for me. You feel so good inside me, baby. Keep going—don’t stop.”

His breathing grows more ragged, his movements becoming erratic as his control begins to slip. His hips jerk upward, meeting yours with increasing desperation, and he chokes out a shaky moan.

“God, I—I don’t think I can hold it,” he stammers, his voice breaking.

“Don’t hold back,” you murmur, your own voice trembling with pleasure. “I want to feel you, Spencer. Cum for me, baby. Let me see how good I make you feel.”

His entire body tenses as he gasps, “m gonna cum.” His fingers dig into the soft curve of your waist, holding you firmly in place as his hips buck upward, driving himself deeper into your heat.

“That’s right,” you murmur, your voice a breathy encouragement as you move with him. “Cum for me, baby.”

The words push him over the edge. His back arches off the couch, his face contorting with pure, unfiltered pleasure as his release takes over. His cock pulses inside you, the sensation leaving you breathless as his cries fill the room, raw and beautiful.

You watch him fall apart beneath you, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his hands clutching your hips as though grounding himself. His eyes squeeze shut, his head thrown back, and his lips form your name like a prayer.

As his orgasm subsides, he gasps, his hips still moving reflexively, as though he can’t let go of the moment. You run a hand through his sweat-damp curls, your touch soothing as his breathing begins to slow.

“So perfect,” you whisper, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

His eyes flutter open, dazed and glassy, and he gazes at you with something like reverence. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice shaky and soft.

You smile, brushing your thumb over his flushed cheek. “You’re welcome, sweet boy.”

With care, you lift yourself off of him, both of you wincing at the loss of connection. You settle beside him, pulling a blanket over your bodies, your fingers tracing lazy patterns along his chest as he drifts into a contented haze.

And there, in the quiet aftermath, you feel his hand find yours, holding it tightly as though grounding himself in you.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[mbbmz]

Can’t look away from you!

Shinichiro x reader

I swear I have so many drafts for y’all requests but I’m too lazy to finish them T-T (sorry if I made any spelling mistakes, English isn’t my first language!)

Warnings : semi public sex, oral sex (m receiving), porn without plot

He was trying, really, really hard to focus. But it seemed like he had been tightening the same damn bolt for the past ten minutes. Why, oh why did he think it would be a good idea to take his girlfriend to his shop? His girlfriend who has been so clingy and affectionate since early in the morning, so much he couldn’t help but ask her to keep him company.

Oh was he regretting this decision.

You were looking at him with those eyes. Those you had when you wanted something. And he knew exactly what.

But he couldn’t give in now. He was supposed to be working. Beside, anyone could come in at any moment! His friends, his brother, who all chose his shop as their hangout spot, or even any customer!

In the span of ten minutes, you went from leaning against a wall, to sitting next to him, to sitting on his lap. He was hard, and you knew it. You were just playing with him at this point, waiting for him to break, to lose the battle against his morals and his decency.

And there was a limit to what a man could take, and you made him reach that limit when you laid down, resting your cheek on his thigh.

His resolve crumbled, leaning back as he let out a loud sigh.

- "Fuck… come here, babe…"

You smiled in victory, watching him unbuckle his belt. He looked around one last time, pressing his lips in a thin line, before taking out his semi-hard cock.

You smiled, immediately wrapping your hand around him in a firm grip. As much as you wanted to savor it, even you knew that it had to be done quick.

You looked up at him, noticing he was still looking around nervously, as if someone might magically appear into the shop. Your free hand found its way to his chin, gripping it so he would look at you instead. He let out a silent gasp at the sight, that devious smile stretching your face as you started pumping his shaft in a tantalizingly slow movement.

- "Eyes on me, love."

You muttered sultrily, giving his blushing tip a slow, sensual lick. God, he was so weak for you. You swore you could feel him twitch from the sight.

His free hand rested on top of your head, fiddling with a strand as if he was fighting the urge to just shove you down his length, while the other was on the floor, trying to support his weight so he could lean back even more, leaving you space.

You wasted no time putting both of your hands to work, pumping him while your tongue was brushing against his tip hastily.

His grip on your hair tightened, his breath shaky and his messy black hair sticking to his forehead from the sweat. This was such a beautiful sight for you, which only encouraged you to pick up with the pace.

- "F-Fuck… just like that baby…"

He said, his voice stifled and shaky in reaction to your lips wrapping around his length. He wanted to keep looking around, looking for eventual unexpected guests, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you and your bobbing head.

Fuck, it had to be one of the most erotic sights ever. Your lips stretched around his dick, trying to adjust to his size while tears were starting to prickle at the corners of your eyes. Oh fuck, he might just nut right now-

He didn’t even have the time to give you a warning before he shot his load deep down your throat, making you cough, quickly pulling away as you made him ride his orgasm with your fist.

He stared at you, his gaze apologetic yet lustful as he looked at you, cheeks flushed probably from the performance you put up a few seconds ago.

You glared at him, pushing his shoulder lightly, a slight pout on your face. He chuckled, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck as he sat up straighter.

- "Sorry baby… sometimes you’re just too damn hot, I can’t hold back…"

He caressed the top of your head, his other hand putting his softening cock back in his pants. He helped you sit up, scooting you over him. He looked around one last time, before looking back at you.

- "Spread those pretty legs f’me, time to return the favor…"

[onyourowndaisymae]

unicorn bandages - alt. version

this has been sitting in my drafts awhile. someone requested some lucifer hurt/comfort (that i haven't got around to yet) and i wrote this, only to realize this didn't exactly hit the mark when i finished. but i figured it's cute, so i might as well post it

word count: 1145

content + warnings: playful/smartass lucifer, general fluff, minor physical injury, general mentions of embarrassment

you need to learn to be more careful.

that's what you think as you walk the rest of the way home to the house of lamentation, lost in your own thoughts. the gentle searing pain of your skinned knee was enough of a punishment-- did you brain have to keep replaying the memory of you tripping in the middle of town, too? being clumsy and wearing shorts were both incompatible with your plans today, yet here you are, looking foolish and feeling exposed from your mistake.

the blood had long since dried against your skin. you felt sticky and gross, yearning now for a shower and a place to hide from your lingering embarrassment. did anyone from RAD see you eat shit outside that shop. ugh, and they way nobody helped you up, how you awkwardly stumbled to your feet and-- ahhh!! please, no more!!

the familiar creak of the front doors announced your arrival to the house of lamentation. you shuffled inside awkwardly, head hung, staring at your feet to avoid another tumble. even the book you bought on your day out couldn't console you enough to block out the invisible judgement you felt.

"what is that?"

you lifted your head to find lucifer stopped in the archway to the living room, eyes narrowed at you.

"huh?"

"what is that?" he repeated. "what happened to your knee?"

"oh. i, uh, i fell on my way home and scraped my knee. i don't-- i'm fine. it's just a scrape."

you felt the urge to shy away from his stern gaze, to hide your little scrape from his prying eyes and pretend it never happened. he looks at the wound for a few moments longer before meeting your eyes.

"will you sit down on the stairs for a moment, mc?"

"it's not that big of a deal. it just need to be wiped off, nothing special."

"then surely you'd be okay with me cleaning it for you? since it's such a minor injury."

you couldn't think of much else to argue. he gave you that smug half-smirk he saved for minor victories such as this and disappeared from sight. you shuffled to the stairs and sat, slumped in defeat, as he presumably went to fetch some first aid supplies.

the avatar of pride returned as quickly as he left, this time with a small black box in his hands. a small gesture of his hands urged you to stretch the injured leg out to give him better access. gloved hands busied themselves digging through unidentified supplies.

"what happened?" he asks, quietly, as he pulls out what looks like a cotton pad and some sort of cleaning agent.

"i was... i went out to get this book satan recommended. y'know, because he always wants to talk about what he's reading." he nodded and you continued. "so i decided to grab it while i was out. apparently there's a hole in the sidewalk out front, because as i was walking out, my foot got caught and i-- ow!"

your cry of pain was almost indignant as lucifer interrupted your story by cleaning the wound. the sharp sting of something akin to but not quite isopropyl alcohol lit your knee on fire. had the scrape really been that bad?

"the bacteria in the devildom is a bit more aggressive than in the human realm," he explained, softer look on his face than a moment ago. "we wouldn't want our favorite human getting sick from an accident like this, would we?"

as if he was trying to apologize, lucifer brought your knee closer by the back of your leg and gently blew on the wound to alleviate some of the pain of the cleanser currently working its magic. it was nice. for a moment, he was lucifer, big brother, not the avatar of pride he embodied in public. his fingers fiddled with pulling and stretching your skin to ensure each inch was properly wiped clean. there was a certain level of sincerity to his movements that made you smile.

"did you do this a lot when your brothers were growing up?"

"you have no idea."

that makes you laugh. he smiles, just a little, before continuing.

"angels are supposed to be resilient. their skin is thicker than a human being's, so they shouldn't get hurt as easily. and yet training my younger brothers was-- well, it was quite the event."

"i'm gonna guess mammon was the biggest pain?"

"definitely mammon." a fond smile. he wiped a cotton pad across your busted knee before continuing. "every time i saw him, he was always covered in bruises and scrapes. i could never quite get him to admit that he'd got them wandering off in pursuit of his younger brothers."

"that sounds a lot like him."

lucifer picked up a small tin containing the bandages. these must have been picked out by asmodeus-- instead of the usual plain design lucifer always grabbed, these were bright and colorful with unicorn designs. the avatar of pride only offered a small sigh before pulling an adequately sized one out and applying for you. in a few moments, what was a terribly embarrassing memory had been sealed from the world behind two unicorns hopping in unison over a rainbow.

"aren't you going to kiss it better?"

your sarcastic question was followed by your mischievous little smirk. maybe you shouldn't have teased him while he was in such a good mood. his eyes narrowed a bit before, to your surprise, his smirk mirrored your own.

you open your mouth to play off your joke, but lucifer's already lifting your knee to his mouth. your whole body is sliding uncomfortably off the stair step-- karma sure is efficient-- as his lips hover above your knee. lucifer's lips brush the top of your bandage. he makes an obnoxious kissing sound to honor your request before unceremoniously dropping your leg, leaving you sprawled in an odd position on the steps.

"i was kidding," you whine.

"my apologies. i just wanted to make sure you healed correctly."

"yeah, yeah, whatever you say."

the avatar of pride is quick to repack the first aid kit and rise to his feet. you reach out for his hand to help you up. in a bout of playfulness, he instead high fives your open palm, small smirk dripping with sarcasm. of course you had to catch him in a good mood. you sigh dramatically. this time, his offer to help you stand was genuine. a quick tug of your hand and lucifer had quickly pulled your fragile human body off the steps.

"careful, mc. wouldn't want you to fall again."

"i think you'd enjoy it, actually. sadist."

"... you're probably right."

"huh?!"

your cry is indignant as he begins to exit. you chase after him without hesitation. that smirk on his face meant he was joking, right?

[gracethyomen]

Nobody asked but idc I need some fluff for while I'm writing the angst...

Matthew Michael Murdock in Love:

TOUCH. STARVED.

This man has been touch-starved for literally so long. Besides his friends guiding him or the one-night stands he participates in, this man is seriously lacking in Vitamin A for Affection.

Once he feels like he's allowed to, if his baby is nearby best believe he wants to be able to touch her in some way at all times. Reading a book? He's got a hand on your leg while he does his work. Or he's got his head on your shoulder and asks you to read to him. Cooking? Ninja man sneaks up behind you to hold you. Snoozing on his couch? He'll pull your legs into his lap or hand over your hair. Sitting together? Hand on your leg, around your shoulders, or touching your waist. If you're within arm's reach forget about it. He finds safety in your touch and will seek it out every chance.

Matt loves touching his sweetheart's hair. So soft and so smooth on his skin. He fiddles with it every chance he gets, toying with the ends or sweeping it over your shoulder, tucking it behind your ear, running his fingers through it... He can't get enough.

He's protective asf. Which sometimes turns him into a mother-hen. He takes his job as your support system/protector very seriously. Always walking between you and the road on the sidewalk, arm in arm. He's always conscious of where you are in the apartment and when you leave he makes sure to check what your plans are so he can keep track of where you are.

He hates texting you. He'd rather call you or swap voice memos. Any chance to hear your voice over the robotic AI voice that reads his text messages.

That's all I've got for now I needed something soft to get me through the angsty drafting.

:)

[nijisanji-brain-rot-fics]

i didn't sign up for this!

IKE EVELAND - DAY 3

“Hey, welcome in!” Ike called out as he heard the bells above the cafe door ring. You walked in, shivering with a beige scarf wrapped around your neck, your puffy white jacket covered with snow as you shrugged it off before getting inside. It was nice, being in a warm and cozy small local cafe. You knew almost everyone who worked there, from how frequently you go there, even during rainstorms. You saw your favourite employee (though you always swear you don’t have favourites). Ike always had a somewhat special place in your heart; he was a novelist with a part time job at the cafe, and you were an illustrator. His books were always fun to read, as he showed you a few drafts, but he’s never published one.

“Ike, hey! Could I get-“ You started but Ike already interrupted you.

“The usual? Your iced coffee with three shots of espresso, two pumps of vanilla, chocolate syrup with caramel drizzle and whipped cream? [a/n: stop ok idk any drinks]” He recited, as you had always requested before. It was an extremely random combination, but you always seemed to love it.

“You remembered?- Oh, well, obviously, I always order it,” You said, chuckling, “Yeah, that’s what I’ll get.” He laughed a bit, then nodded. He made the coffee and gave it to you, as you handed him money.

“Have you finished another illustration, (Name)?” Ike asked curiously, leaning on the counter towards you.

“I don’t have anyone who commissioned me yet.” You told Ike, sipping the hot coffee with a sigh of content.

“Maybe you could illustrate the cover for… my book?” He asked hesitantly, fiddling with the golden chain on his glasses. You looked at him, dumbfounded. Ike finally published a book?

“You… got a book published?” You asked him, your excitement climbing. You’ve always wanted him to finally have a book on the shelves, mainly because his writing style was so unique and his books had always piqued your interest.

“It just got through editing. I still need to illustrate a cover for it, then I can publish it.” Ike said in a meek tone, clearing his throat.

“Congratulations!! I would love to illustrate for you! Okay, okay, so!-“ You started off at the mouth with excitement before Ike inevitably stopped you with laughter.

“Okay, okay, calm down (name)!” He laughed, pushing up his glasses, “First of all, are you free anytime this weekend? Maybe we could meet up, y’know, discuss a few things? Or… how does it work for you?” He tilted his head slightly as he looked at you, a shy smile creeping up his flushed cheeks; he was very flustered about your excitement towards something that seemed so mundane for him.

“Yep, yep, I could clear Saturday if that’s cool with you!-“

“Woah, woah, if you have something important for Saturday, we can meet some other time, I don’t wanna like- Take up so much of your time.” Ike said sheepishly, leaning forward as you suggested having to clear a day just for him.

“Huh? Oh, no, don’t worry! It’s nothing important. Just a date that I don’t really want to go to.” You waved it off, chuckling quietly.

“A… date, huh?” Maybe I could take her out on a date… Ike thought as he got embarrassed at the thought. He’s been pining for you for a while, ever since he started to become your friend, “Uh, sure then… If Saturday’s alright, I can do that.”

That Saturday, he ended up meeting with her on Saturday at the cafe again, but just when he wasn’t on shift.

“So what’s your plan for the cover?” You asked, taking your drawing tablet out as he sat beside you after ordering two coffees.

“Uhm… I made a sketch already of what I wanted, I was just thinking that you could just render it?” He asked, taking out a page with a very rough but still talented drawing of his desired cover.

“Sure! It’s a very nice drawing, by the way.” You giggled when he blushed bashfully, shaking his head at your comment while you scanned his drawing to keep most of his originality in the cover while still fixing a few rough patches and such.

“So, uhm… Why did you not want to go on that date?” Ike asked awkwardly as you started to render his sketch on your drawing iPad, since he insisted you stay for lunch.

“Oh, I didn’t really like the person. Honestly just accepted the date to get over talking with them.” You shrugged, looking up for a moment at Ike while you took a sip of coffee, “Why do you ask?”

“Ah, nothing, just curious… Say, if I asked you on a date, would you accept?” Ike asked meekly, turning away from your face.

“Hm, well, sure.” You shrugged, the words not connecting in your mind while you drew, mainly focused on his art. Your response made him become bright red and very flustered.

“Oh- Ah, then… Would… you go on a date with me?” He stumbled through the words, looking down into his cup as he asked, expecting rejection.

“Huh? Oh, uh… Sure.” You replied, looking at him with a surprised expression though you sort of expected it at this point. You’d never tell him how obvious he was though.

[gothicmama]

"The Hunt" Bagginshield ABO (Rough Draft)

I posted a little snippet of this, the end of it, awhile back, and since then I've been fiddling with it constantly and I'm on the verge of rewriting all two thousand something words and start over. So, I'm posting it here first, hoping for some advice/criticism/reassurance on what I should do with it. Please, help (;

Bilbo had adjusted to the cultural shock of living with Dwarves relatively quickly. The months he’d spent on the quest with the company had helped him when it came to being the only Hobbit in a mountain of them. Everything was completely different from what he was used to, from the food to the clothing, to the weather itself. Some of that had been expected and easily managed. He ate meals with everyone else plus the extra four he was used to, with whoever happened to be free at the moment keeping him company, so he didn’t eat alone. He’d even added some Hobbitish dishes to menus all over the mountain. The same was said for clothing, his closet was full of Hobbit style clothing that were decorated with the floral designs Hobbits preferred, alongside or combined with the traditional geometric patterns Dwarves favored. Dori and Nori had taken on the challenge of making his whole wardrobe and they’d outdone themselves. Several of the tailors and shops in the marketplace now offered similar items themselves. And the weather had simply been solved by finally giving in and admitting that his bare feet needed something during the winter months, especially if he wanted to go outside. As such he now had a drawerful of thick socks, also made by both Dori and Nori, that were just as decorated as the rest of his clothing.

But the one thing he was still struggling to adjust to was how different they were when it came to their secondary genders. For Hobbits, there were expectations and responsibilities for each. Alphas were expected to be the head of the family and do the more dangerous things, like being Bounders. Omegas were expected to be pregnant as often as possible, as long as it was safe to be so, and Betas were expected to fill in any gaps and be whatever was needed in whatever relationship they were in.

Despite that Hobbits were all mostly similar in certain ways regardless of whether they were Alpha, Beta, or Omega. They were, as a people, generally gentle and kind-hearted folk. Suspicious of the outside world, with good reason, and with few exceptions, they were all content to live in their smials, throw parties for any an all reasons, and drink and eat to their hearts’, and stomachs’, content. They spent their heats and ruts either at home alone or with their mates, and it was highly expected to choose a mate and marry them as young as possible. For the majority of Hobbits, regardless of their gender, they only ever touched or were touched by one person and that was the person they chose to be their mate.

Dwarves on the other hand were completely different. They drew clear lines between Alphas, Betas, and Omegas, while simultaneously treating them all equally. Unlike Hobbits, Omegas weren’t expected to have children. He knew and had met several Omegas who had dedicated their lives to their crafts instead of relationships or were in a relationship and simply didn’t want children. Also, Omegas weren’t looked at differently or whispered about for doing dangerous work. Neither were Alphas sneered at for doing what would be considered delicate work, such as embroidering or knitting. No, for Dwarves, they wore their genders proudly in their braids, but it made no difference to how they were treated by others.

And for Bilbo, a Hobbit who had for many years been the local oddity due to being an unmated Omega who was head of his family and the family business, it was both a pleasant and a jarring change.

He’d thought he’d grown used to the way things were, he’d even started letting Fili and Kili put an Omega braid in his hair. Something that still seemed to unsettle Thorin, so much so that for the first few times he had quickly excused himself before running from the room. Bilbo had yet to get an explanation for that, so he’d simply chalked it up to some Dwarf thing he didn’t know about. And then, he’d found out about the Hunt.

“I’m sorry, could you explain it to me again please?” Bilbo was sure he’d heard Balin wrong. There was no way Dwarves actually did that.

Balin chuckled and looked up from the scroll he was writing on. “Any unmated Alphas, Betas, and Omegas may participate in the Hunt. It’s two weeks of eating, sleeping, and preparing. It is called the Hunt because at the end of the two weeks, some are hunted, while the others are the hunters.”

Bilbo swallowed heavily before he hesitantly asked, “Hunted for what?”

Balin set down the scroll completely and looked at the Hobbit over his glasses. His eyes stared into Bilbo’s as he answered, “For mating.”

“Mating?” Bilbo squeaked out. His face was already burning but his curiosity was stronger than his embarrassment. He knew what mating was, understood it on a purely physical, educational level, but he’d never experienced it. And even if he had, Hobbits didn’t do anything like what Balin was describing.

“Yes. On the final night, the hunted run, and the hunters chase, and almost everyone finds a mate, if not more than one,” Balin explained. “It is a night for us to give in to our primal urges, to experience a heat or rut in a different way.”

“Isn’t that, well, dangerous?” Bilbo asked. The thought of alphas and omegas running loose, lost in their heats and ruts, sounded terrifying to him.

“It can be, yes,” Balin agreed. “But even in our most primal, animalistic states, we are not cruel or vicious. Fighting is to be expected, but most know when they’re beaten and will yield. Likewise, most know when they’ve won, and they’ll let the loser go. It’s not unheard of for people to die, for fights to get out of control or for someone to take it too far, but it is uncommon.”

“I see. But, what if you,” Bilbo paused to think over his words. “What if someone is interested in another, but they aren’t interested in return?”

“It’s even rarer for forced mating to happen, but it has happened in the past,” Balin regretfully admitted. “It’s a risk one takes to be a part of the hunt. But most are more interested in finding willing partners than wasting time and energy forcing themselves on another.”

Unsure of how to respond to his reassurance, Bilbo simply nodded. Balin smiled kindly at him and explained, “There are risks, yes, but that is why it is optional. It is for those who are without mates, who wish to have a little fun. Everyone gets to show off in the days leading up to the hunt, by decorating themselves with paint and jewels or showing off their prowess in fights. And on the final night, they run wild and free in ways that they don’t usually get to experience. Though, some do go into it with other motivations.”

Bilbo leaned back in his chair, his head swimming. This took culture shock to an entirely new level. He cleared his throat several times and fiddled with the buttons on his waistcoat, before he stammered, “Other motivations?”

“Oh yes.” Ignoring the worrying expression on Bilbo’s face, Balin got comfortable and leaned back in his chair. “Some who enter are looking for a mate, and they will have their token with them. It’s an unspoken rule that tokens are not to be touched, stolen, or damaged in any way. Even in our most primal of states, that’s instinctual. If someone finds another that they like they may present the token to them. In the heat of the moment, it’s easy to get lost in the intense feelings and lose track of people, especially if you have multiple partners during the night.”

Bilbo’s head spun again just from that sentence. Multiple partners? He wasn’t touching that right then, probably never would because it didn’t concern him. He shook his head slightly and tuned back into Balin’s explanation. “The tokens make it easier for people to find their chosen afterwards. Assuming of course their chosen accepts. Rejecting a token is allowed, and encouraged if the feelings aren’t mutual.”

“I see,” Bilbo replied faintly. He clasped his hands on the desk in front of him to stop them from fidgeting. “You said motivations, plural. What else is there?”

“Children.” Balin chuckled when Bilbo gasped in shock, his eyes bulging. “There are some who wish to have children, without having to go through the trouble of finding a suitable donor or partner. They simply wish to mate with as many people as possible to give them the best chance of being impregnated. Or they only wish to mate with someone they find acceptable, such as the strongest hunter of the group, to ensure their child is also strong.”

“That makes sense.” That was all Bilbo could say through his disbelief. That was entirely unheard of among Hobbits. If someone had children, it was because they were mated and married and had usually planned them. No one just had children on their own, with the rare exception of an Omega who’d been widowed during pregnancy. But even then, they would often take another mate to help with raising the child, they didn’t do it all on their own. Bilbo cleared his throat and offered an apologetic smile. “Forgive me for my surprise, please. This is very different from how we Hobbits do it.”

“Oh, no worries, laddie, I thought as much.” Balin waved away his apology with his hand. “I don’t think anyone else but us Dwarves do it, not the men nor the elves. It’s why we don’t talk about it much.”

“Ah, yes, one of your many secrets.” They both chuckled at Bilbo’s teasing, then he turned serious again. Now that his mind was working through this new information, the surprise and embarrassment were completely replaced by his curiosity. Questions were popping into his head fast, but one stuck out amongst the lot. “How do you ensure children occur? After all, if the Hunt is a once a year, scheduled event, most of the participants won’t be in heat or rut when it occurs.”

Balin winked at Bilbo and gave him a smirk. “We’re back to the secrets again, laddie. We’re not as good as Hobbits when it comes to gardens and vegetables, but our healers know their herbs. Part of the Hunt is taking the right ones. Everyone eats or drinks, whichever they prefer, an herb that sends them into heat or rut. For Betas, they’re given something different that simulates whichever they choose.”

Balin entwined his fingers over his beard as he continued, “Everyone who enters is given just enough herbs based on their size and how fast they burn through medicines. No one is given too much, and what they are given is given in small amounts over the course of the two weeks, so it builds in their systems, and they have time to adjust. This also gives them a chance to change their mind or for them to see a healer if something does go wrong.”

“That’s why the preparation is so long,” Bilbo assumed. It made perfect sense to him, and it sounded as though the Dwarves had it planned out perfectly. The thought of the Hunt, while still jarring to him as a Hobbit, sounded less like a uncontrollable thing where people went crazy and did awful things to each other, and more like a large, planned party where everyone was there to go wild and have fun together. As a Hobbit who loved parties, he appreciated the logistics that went into this. And as an Omega who’d never so much as been kissed, the thought of having this chance to see what he’d been missing without fear of hurt feelings, or an arranged marriage, was beginning to sound appealing.

Bilbo shoved that thought away. He absolutely wasn’t going to do it, no matter what fantasies went on in his own head. He cleared his throat and continued with his questions. His purely academic questions. “For those who don’t want children?”

“Preventative herbs are available before and after the hunt, and we’ve worked out many options that are safe to take with the stimulant herbs,” Balin replied matter-of-factly.

Bilbo nodded slowly, taking a moment of silence to process all the information he’d just been given. When he felt like he had a good handle on everything, he smiled at Balin. “It certainly sounds like you all know what you’re doing. When will the Hunt take place, then?”

Balin tapped his chin thoughtfully before answering him. “We’ve been preparing for it for weeks now, but now that Thorin is completely healed and it’s safe for him to participate, we can finish the last few things up. It should only take another two weeks before we can get started.”

The Hobbit froze and for the second time in just five minutes he was sure he’d heard incorrectly. “Thorin? He’s going to?”

“Oh, yes, laddie, as an unmated king, it’s one of his responsibilities.” Balin barely held back a laugh at Bilbo’s surprised expression. “It is in the hopes that he might meet someone, but also to prove his raw prowess and strength against other Alphas. That’s why it’s only for unmated kings unless they wish to do the Hunt together as a couple. Most don’t though, there’s always the chance that things can go wrong in such a situation.”

“I understand that, yes.” Bilbo swallowed. He hid his hands under the desk and nervously wrung them together. “So, he will for sure be a hunter, as you called it?”

“Oh yes. We use the terms hunter and hunted, because those terms are not used solely for Alphas and Omegas respectively, but yes, Thorin, as an Alpha, will be a hunter.” Balin’s eyes twinkled over his glasses as he suddenly asked, “Will you be joining the Hunt, too, Bilbo?”

“Yes.” The answer popped out before Bilbo could even think about it.

[barbex]

Writer Game

Look what I found in my drafts!

@celemee tagged me for this, thank you! It looks short and fun, so I'm inflicting it on everybody. Tagging: @sulky-valkyrie, @effelants, @tobythewise, @andrastesknickerweasel, @mordinette, @zet-sway​, @roguelioness, @potatowitch, @for-the-ninth, @anneapocalypse, @rakshadow, @contreparry, @highwayphantoms, and everybody else who wants to!

Do you write in order? Yes. I'm a discovery writer. I write the story as it appears in the headlights of my very slow car.

Do you start with something in particular? I wish I had a system. Really, it would help so much! I often start with dialogue, but then I also like starting mid blowjob scene.

How fully formed does your writing come out on the first try? Clean draft. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Okay, listen. I write, I go back, I rewrite, I fiddle here and there, I rethink, I change everything, I write again, I rewrite, I fiddle... I'm doing everything they tell you not to do. What comes out after all that is a fairly clean chapter I'll throw into the world without a second look.

How many drafts do you go through? One. I mean, it's an unholy creation of my chaotic thought process and changes form like a shapeshifter while it grows, but in the end, at least for fanfic, it's one draft and out to AO3 it goes.

I'm terrified of having to change this process for the novel I'm writing.

Tell me about your process? Gods, I wish I had one. I think it has become clear by now that I'm just diving into the story and keep throwing it all on the page. If it looks right, it stays.

This process requires for me:

Quiet time

Tea

A little bit of life, like someone else also working nearby

Wrist protector

A good and/or pretty keyboard

I'm not even kidding, look at this pretty thing:

Thanks for reading!

[ahordeofwasps]

Find the Word Tag

I've been tagged by the awesome @kaylinalexanderbooks! Thanks for the tag! My words are depress, favour, entertain, and attract. I'll be sharing excerpts from Crying Wolf.

But first, the no pressure tags! I'll be tagging @tabswrites, @revenantlore, @winterandwords, @loopyhoopywrites, and open tag! Your words are dangle, danger, doom, and dear!

Now, onto Crying Wolf!

Depress

Not found! In this draft at least! But it's in an old draft! Here are some dead words!

It was quite depressing. Ciro would have remarked this if Bob hadn’t ranted about it first. Every time they travelled to the trading post to get the supplies for the day, Bob would begin ranting about the state of Screaming Rabbits. “Damn fools think a mono-resource economy is sustainable,” he would often grumble, “Need to look at themselves in the Grav-damn mirror… and do something about it!” before going on to rant about the failings of not only the previous governor, but the governor that came before him. The rant would always end with “Now they don’t have any choice but to vote for me! I am the only candidate! I’ll change things ‘round here! It’ll be great, you’ll see!”

Favour

Jack spent the next several minutes charging until the words changed again. During that time, Smas decided to showcase their favourite musical pieces. The songs were a few minutes each and they were nothing like anything Jack had ever heard before. Drums, horns, flutes, guitars, and instruments he couldn’t name played alongside each other while human voices sung songs about love, death, and other vexing issues. It was a treat when a minstrel made their way to Screaming Rabbits, but these songs put them all to shame. Dæmon or not, Smas had more to offer than the world ever did.

Entertain

It had only been his second night, but Ogwut would move on soon. Normally, he would try to stay in one place for at least a week, but Screaming Rabbits didn’t agree with him. He could blame it on the sour atmosphere – the recent pair of deaths were enough to dampen any spirit, but that would be a lie. He had spent much time entertaining platoons on the battlefronts between Rusthower and Humford; although the bloodshed bothered him, it had never caused him any issues.

Attract

He sighed and bent over his own tent, resuming the process of putting it up. He tried to work quickly, tried to finish setting the tent up before the Sun set and left him with nothing but the light of the Moon and stars and other nameless things. But Wotan found himself stopping often. Sometimes it was to wipe the tears away, other times he just stopped and stared at the half-erected tent, desperately trying to will his hands to move, to keep working. He didn’t know how long he had been fiddling with the tent. It was long enough for him to attract notice from the others. “Do you need help?” Ogwut asked. Wotan jumped at the sound of his voice, dropping the tent post. He didn’t hear Ogwut approach, nor notice the large shadow that loomed over him. “Yes, he does,” Daisy said, answering for him. Wotan turned his head to see both Ogwut and Daisy standing behind him. Ogwut’s face was contorted into a concerned frown. Daisy stared at Wotan with her arms crossed, her brown eyes puffy and red. Like him, she had also been crying.

Crying Wolf Taglist: @sarandipitywrites, @tabswrites

[ramblingoak]

For the dare game ☺️

🌵, 🍄, 🦷

Thank youuuu for sending some in 💙

🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you love

This Dark Synthwave playlist is one of my favorites! Actually will have this on while writing a lot.

🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on

Personal wisdom would just be that it's ok to be weird. Don't let what other people think of you make you change who you are. Find better people to be around if anyone makes you feel bad for being yourself.

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

I'm going to be horrible and just share a snippet from the next fic in the steampunk verse (very rough first draft, sfw):

Copia was hanging out of a clock on the third floor when Secondo finally tracked him down.

“Was there something wrong with this one?”  Secondo immediately felt bad, it was obvious his booming voice startled the small boy.  He fell backwards onto the floor of the hallway with a small yelp and stared up at him with wide eyes.  When he didn’t answer, Secondo cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow.  “Well?”

“No?”

“You don’t seem sure.”  He took a few steps forward and looked inside of the open clock face.  It was practically empty inside so clearly it hadn’t been working for sometime.  “Scavenging for parts?”

“No!” 

Secondo had to bite his lip to keep from smiling.  That attitude was pure Emeritus. 

“Do you know any other words?”  With a huff the boy crossed his small arms over his chest, refusing to meet Secondo’s eyes.  “How many other clocks have you taken apart?”

“Three.” 

“And what are these parts for?”  When the boy shrugged, Secondo knelt down, getting a closer look at the small piles of metal scattered around.  It was obvious the boy was looking for something.  “If you tell me what you’re trying to do, maybe I can help.”

“Aldo was having trouble with the stairs.”

“And Aldo is…?”

“My rat.” 

“Ah yes, of course.”  Copia had uncrossed his arms and started to fiddle with the gears he still had in his hands.  Almost as if he couldn’t help himself, like his hands needed to be busy at all times.  “Why don’t you take me to Aldo and I’ll see if I have any ideas, eh?”

“Are you good with machines?”

“Si, very good.”  Secondo held out a hand, stifling another laugh when Copia dumped the gears he had been playing with in it.  “I’ve even built my own airship.”

“Really?!”

“Really.  Maybe if we sort Aldo out I’ll take you to see it.”

[bvannn]

Weekly Update July 5, 2024

I’m very sleepy because I was kept up with fireworks and then woke up in the middle of the night from nightmare. Still in a good mood because I found the dumpster guitar though. I tried to work on bigger projects between Artfight attacks, but I do want to try to finish off a few more this weekend. But tonight I’ll probably sleep early. Probably.

Artfight is going well, I have around 9 more attacks sketched that need to get digitized, I’m going to try pixel art again for some of them, since I do want to get good at it and I have slacked off for a while. Also got a couple comic panels outlined between attacks, because I thought they’d be quick. They weren’t but I’m going to keep going at it. Took another shot at comic writing as well, but no progress yet.

Other big thing I was messing with this week was music. As mentioned before I found a free guitar in the dumpster and I plan to make another push to learn it. I also fiddled with vocaloid again, and have effectively retuned OEB, just need to finish up harmonies which I’ll do once I’m home. Again I found out last week that I can speed up future pruning significantly with midi files, so I’ll try to record some if I’m getting art burnout this weekend. I also *tried* finishing up another instrumental ambient piece, but decided I didn’t like the piano and will be redoing it once I’m in the headspace. Big thing as far as music goes is I finished up a first draft of instrumentals for RR, which I’ll try to get vocals done alongside any other midi files I need to record, and get mixing done between Artfight attacks. I know I will at some point get that big inspiration hit for music and unload, but for now, I’m just kinda waiting and doing the easy stuff. Next steps will be finishing off the OEB vocals and mixing those in, finishing off RR, and probably redoing the instruments for BATB for the third time because I actually know what I’m doing now. That sounds bad but really it’s just a bunch of copy-paste and picking out instruments again. I really have been enjoying music, I just need to slog through my unfinished stuff before starting something new.

Really that’s it as far as this week. This month is going to be slow on projects due to Artfight, but that’s okay. I guess I just don’t have a lot to say. Tonight I’m going to try to get rest, probably going to change my mind but for now I’ll anticipate either going right to bed once I get home, or going and getting the dumpster guitar looked at and maybe getting the string fixed. If it’s not too expensive.

[elvenbeard]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you so much for the tag and reminder @kharonion! :D Gonna tag @pinkyjulien @humberg @chevvy-yates @theviridianbunny cause I haven't been keeping up with tumblr much lately and would love to know what you're all doing atm if you wanna share 👀

As always, I got way too much stuff at once I'm doing, and apartment hunting is awful and really robbing me of my motivation, so I'm doing a lot of low-brain-effort stuff that calms my nerves at the moment really. Let's see...

VP Stuff

Currently working my way through my "Vince through the years series" :D Two posts out (2067, 2069), one drafted and still needs some text, the others are still a work in progress XD While 2067 was a bit about Vince's home life, 2069 about his transition and time in Kabuki, 2071 is gonna have a focus on Jackie 👀

I should have it ready in a few days :3

Art Stuff

I actually had a little drive to draw something lately :DD working a bit on the comic I teased the other week, slowly chipping away at the lineart, but really enjoying it so far, even though my process is slow!

First page lineart done (for now xD I might go back and fiddle more with it). I am... very tempted to paint the background, but I think I will for once settle for the easy approach and fill in my backgrounds with modified screenshots for this. Cause why tf not xD If professional manga artists can do it, so can I for my silly fancomic!

Writing Stuff

I started chapter 8 of Love is Stored in the Olive Jar and I know it's gonna be a difficult one cause I've really been building up to it and now I got the "you gotta deliver now!!" anxiety XD But I'm still looking forward to finally getting to Mr. B's solution for V's Sun-Ending problem 👀

“So, she got any final words of wisdom?” Kerry asked, fingers gently drumming on the steering wheel. They had swapped cars at home, and with what Rogue had just said now V wondered if it might not have been better after all to use Kerry’s Aerondight to get here… But then again, if shit hit the fan in some way, he didn’t want any unnecessary negative attention drawn to Kerry. “Not really,” V shook his head, “Nothin’ I didn’t think of already at least.” “Told ya so,” Kerry shrugged, pulling out his cigarettes and only paused when he noticed V’s stern stare. “Ah, fuck,” he mumbled and then got out of the car. They had not only swapped cars but changed clothes quickly while they were home. As he slipped from the driver’s seat, Kerry’s wide black bomber jacket rode up briefly, revealing the gun kept in the waistband of his cargopants. “You shouldn’t do that,” V said as he got out himself, “Posers in action films keep their gun in their pants. In the real world that’s gonna get you shot in the ass faster than you think.” V closed the passenger side door with his elbow, flinching slightly at the pain shooting through his shoulder and chest. He took a deep breath, adjusted his own gun holster worn snugly under his coat. “Fiiine,” Kerry sighed, lit cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, and he put the gun into his jacket’s pockets. Not ideal still, but better. V smiled at him, and then slowly turned to look down the short, narrow side street they were parked in. They were close to the Santo Domingo district border, in the middle of the industrial area at the edges of the city. The location coordinates Mr. B had sent him lay not far ahead. A new, sleek white building, V guessed it around ten stories tall, rose at the center of what he remembered to be factory grounds formerly. It was far from imposing, a little bit lost on the large lot even, but it blended in well with the surrounding corpo complexes. The entire compound was fenced in, V spotted cameras and security turrets near the heavily secured entrance gate. No security staff though, not even mechs or drones, much to his surprise, at least not visibly out in the open.

Modding Stuff

I have a handful of things on the backburner... A very silly t-shirt (the replacer works already, but I wanna make it Archive XL!), band merch, and my custom hand holding poses... but with my anxiety-riddled brain wolvenkit is a bit too daunting at the moment, but I'm really looking forward to continuing all these projects :3

[candycryptids]

Ayoooo, I'm back to be a pain AGAIN! This time I really, really, really want to know more about... duh, Chuu! But also a little about Tuesday, as well. This idea is just so COOL and I need to know more.

So! How long did it take Chuu to finish building Tuesday? I know it says he's been 'finished' for around 6 months to a 1 year but I imagine the process must have taken Chuu forever! And how in the heck did she learn to make an entire being from scratch and give it the capabilities to understand/learn emotions and what not?

My curiosity is insane and I'm going to stop before my "one question" keeps turning into a billion more. :)))

Ok so we’re gonna start with the first question, and then the second answer ends up being a huge timeline-lore dump, so, uh, brace for impact?

It took Chuu 10~ish years of development to get Tuesday to a 1.0 state, starting from drafted prototypes on paper to Built.

She wanted an assistant after going MIA from Garlemald [if you ask her, she’ll say she quit; she just only left an audio clip at her station that said GoodBye :)] because going from having people to run around and do grunt work to, doing everything herself forever…. Sucked.

Learning to Build Tuesday as a whole took her first visit to Ul’Dah, where she was first properly exposed to Mammets in the Goldsmithing guild. Delicate, small robots with full on Hearts. Personalities. MEMORIES! Opinions! Instead of Ceruleum, like Magitek, they ran off Aether. It’s fascinating- it’s not a weapon, it’s different, and confusing as hell. Chuu sticks her nose into their business and learns as much as she can about, how Mammets even function, how they’re put together, until the Gil she had starts to run low, and the Flames start questioning why there’s a Viera here with shocking similarities to one of the head engineers from Garlemald, and she dips again. To Limsa, where she meets the then-Warrior Of Light Keathan. Their extensive knowledge in Aetherology sets Chuu briefly into learning Arcanist magic (hence… part of the origin for her obsession with Carbuncles)

Together they draft further still prototypes on paper, utilizing Keathan’s extensive knowledge on the Body- and the affects Aether has on it, and the reverse (a body’s affect on aether). (it is, in fact, what their Archon Mark is for; BioAetherologist is the word we’re settling on uvu;) to make some pretty Huge Headway….

Something Chuu coins as ‘Mammetek’; a marriage between Magitek and Mammets that would be able to Talk, Walk, Carry, Gather Materials as well as Analyze them for Quality and Usability. A slimmer silhouette than her previous designs, a Mammet heart, a Magitek’s dependable, durable framework, but no need to make room from Ceruleum Tanks, or Emissions. While this Assistant would likely still need coolant, heat sinks, vents… it would still be possible that, to the layman’s eye, it would appear as any other Person, given enough fiddling.

Until the 7th Umbral Calamity occured, and Louisoix’s magic wipes from all the memory of The Warriors Of Light….. and Chuu and Keathan both wind up with gaping holes into the memory. Keathan with terrible active recall, and Chuu with no recollection of the Project they’d been working on together for all this time. Aimless and restless, she drifts away from Limsa and settles Temporarily in Kugane, with its more neutral stances. This is about when she falls in with her current shady Free Company, lmfao. [Which I’ll say, has lore, but I don’t know it, cos our rp scene is, shall we say, a tumbleweed, at best.]

While she’s moving in more fully to their base of operations, about a year after the Calamity, she dredges up notes and prototypes for something that she can’t remember having drafted in the first place. There’s numerous notes on something called a ‘Mammet’ though, which sends her back to Ul’Dah, much to her consternation, but it was the best and only place to learn more.

She happens to meet Keathan again- though the two are mostly struggling with a sense of Deja Vu at first, trying to place where they know each other- they eventually work it out, though perhaps the middle of the market street wasn’t the best place to discover this…

Regardless, the project ends up in full swing again, with Keathan making occasional contributions when not otherwise occupied (though Chuu did probably throw them off their intended task a number of times)

Tuesday [1.0.0] isn’t operational mid-ARR, and he’s not allowed out of the workshop at all. No legs. No face. No hands. But he has a voice, and he has crude mitten-like graspers, and Keathan spent quite a bit of time conversing with him while Chuu refined code and worked on the frame. Originally he was more like a dating sim- predefined responses to partially defined questions and phrases. But it was…. Vast. Training a learning module was easier; let the Mammetek utilize stored memory, and let it build on recalled conversations to generate its own responses based on those. It gets more complicated than that rather quickly but it was more forgiving a module than trying to code for every conceivable combination of words. *please understand my knowledge of computers and programming is rudimentary at best, I’m leaning rather heavily on Fantasy Handwaving

Tuesday’s first proper forray with a body includes mitten hands and a blobby-somewhat suspect-tonberry head, mailed in pieces to Ishgard once Chuu finally got word where Keathan and the Wayward Fugitives had ended up. This is Tuesday [1.2.45]; The startup takes quite a large amount of Aether- so it’s really fortunate Keathan has just that ;)

And Keathan continues to [treat them like a person] and not a Machine! So do most other Ishgardians, actually. He’s Keathan’s attentive, if a little eccentric, assistant and bodyguard. By the end of Heavensward- following a [major incident] with Nidhogg, he’s on 1.3.49. A furious Chuu had to build him a new leg, and made some alterations to his software in the hopes she could head off some of his ‘riskier’ plans (partially at Keathan’s request).

Working as a group in Azys La with Gerolt gets us to Tuesday [2.5.58]; new body, working individual fingers, a lovingly crafted and life-like Faceplate (thanks Keathan 💖) and, more importantly, an enhanced Mammet heart that could better Sustain itself and didn’t need to tether with Keathan to remain operational all the time. Allagan tech also aids in creating a durable self-healing bio-skin, so he gets to wear… like… real clothes. Not just a full coverage padding-insulating armor-body, but. Like. CLOTHES.

Tuesday [3.6.60] comes about post-ish Shadowbringers, when she gets her hands on YorHa technology to take apart and refine and study…. Through curious means. [Tuesday’s Soul] was called there, having residual ties to Keathan, so much of her work comes from second-hand sources until she figures out how to get there on her own power. Don’t tell Shtola.

I imagine he’ll face another updated body and hardware/software to 4.6.49 in Post Endwalkers, working in tandem with Thavnairian Alchemists who designed Varshaun’s vessels. She comes a long way by that point on being closed off and insular, more willing to… care about other people, lmfao, and a course in the Studium about Memory gives Keathan some ideas to work on with Chuu and Tue about upgrading his memory- store it as Aether, and not just as hard copies of ‘deemed important’ or ‘requested’ video and audio and training data. (So basically…. He gets pumped with way more aether and it gives him a proper unique Personality, by about EW, lmfao. Outside of just Formed Opinions and Programmed Quirks, which are the basis of things… it’s a minor but important change I think)

…. Which is to say; how did she learn to give Tuesday Personality? Technically, she didn’t! It was more Keathan’s influence and fingerprints that led to Tuesday having as Developed a sense of self as he does, with Chuu working to accommodate his growing Self while also stubbornly refusing to let him be completely self-governed. He knows entirely too much to be allowed to act completely on his own, you see.

Additional silly fact as a thank you for reading this much; anytime he has a full face and hands and ears and all during Heavensward screenshots it’s because I struggled immensely with knowing I had to obliterate all expression and nuance by slapping a tonberry head and gloves on. So I let him have his face (which I worked QUITE HARD ON, THANKYOU) And hands, because I really like hands as part of a communicative medium. :T

Also, his hair used to be white-ish and green, like Chuu’s, but following HW he asks to be Blue instead of Green- not only to match the color of his tech but also to match the hair of the person he has strong emotions tied up with (Haurchefant, who is provide links for relevant posts but there are a Good Many).

(You might notice in many images their hair isn’t even actually a pure white, but a greenish yellow, this is because I kept going fucking blind with their Snow White hair so I shifted it a few shades into pale grey-green and I’ve enjoyed it much more lmfao.)

ALSO I HAVE SCREENSHOTS IF PROTOTYPES FROM CHUU’S JOURNAL- I struggled to figure out where to place them naturally and even considered doing some heavier editing to make it look like an actual journal schematic, but the payoff wasn’t enticing enough to pursue, so have these on their own; (they were taken using a variety of fiddly filters and a smidge of post-editing but I’m pretty sure it was just “some sorta sketch shader” and then fiddling with settings in gshade until it looked right)

Fuck I forgot to tag my HUSBAND @zombiesockfuckinglovescardfight who is Keathan @v@

[escapedartgeek]

3-5 things associated with your muse.

emotions / feelings:

01. determination

02. exhaustion

03. self-reflection.

greetings:

01. "how's it going?"

02. "anything new?"

03. "hey, hey - been a minute."

colors:

01. lavender, but they do reach into the darker purples as well

02. black

03. one would be surprised by how much orange/pink shows up sometimes

scents:

01. there's some kind of tea tree or something akin to that oil in either their hair care or lotions. so that's a baseline smell.

02. there's a slightly .. artificial smell, especially if they are just working on a project. so marker, paint smells are not uncommon with them.

03. sometimes like coffee. especially a mocha in the morning.

clothing:

01. button-ups with rolled up sleeves, jeans and long sweaters.

02. custom made band tees or other designs with flowing mid knee skirts and boots. sometimes with a bomber jacket.

03. if they must dress up more - striped pants, or tops with solid bottoms- dark purple, black or richer red colors with silver accents.

objects:

01. sketchbook, probably several - to keep track of drafts and ideas that they are jetting down while out and about.

02. set of pens, markers, pencils. to help jot down different visuals or sketches.

03. phone to keep track of who they are meeting with, and where they are going in a given day.

vices / bad habits:

01. a lot of withdrawal. if they kind of suspect that they don't really have a place with someone, it's often easier for them to just leave people alone than to return. they have tried to get better at asking before they just disappear on someone over the years but that is something they have struggled with.

02. overworking - they do get especially dedicated to getting things done and because they know they have a higher capacity than most, they try to make the most of that often to their own detriment. and then get annoyed when people try to take advantage of them like.. you've got to take the pauses first to enforce pauses you demand from other people.

03. there is a mischievous streak that shows up for them, especially if they have been exasperated throughout a day. so they will just .. lightly toy with people's perceptions the next time they get tried - just for a little bit of catharsis.

body language:

01. they tap their toes or drum their fingers on nearby surfaces. sometimes they have a specific song in mind that the rhythm to which may come out as they do so.

02. they use their eyes in very expressive ways - like a good look at them will give you a sense of how they are going to respond even before they say a word. and that is even if they choose to talk at all.

03. they do fiddle with the bottom of their jackets, shirts. or they will toy with one of their curls if they are waiting and feeling a bit distracted.

aesthetics:

01. very afrosurreal - always on the fringes - incorporating multiple influences from history, current styles and space into their being. on the move, there's a casual rhythm ease - with a certain lurking tension beneath that people aren't sure exactly what that's about. but there's always... something. i'm a virgo actually captures the vibe quite a bit.

02. deserts. having grown up in a strange small town in the middle of the desert, you can really never get that sense for the dry heat and all the bold colors that they had seen out of them. there's a hardiness, a willingness and ability to survive on very little or the unexpected.

03. zine making, collages - putting together a lot of disparate pieces and imagery to make something new out of it. i suppose the process of making a mixtape can play into this too.

songs (in no order):

01. lonnie liston smith - expansions

02. big joanie - what are you waiting for?

03. roy ayers - searching

tagged by: @samuhelll tagging: @temporalobjects [ for muse of choice], @bewitchingbaker @hellfollowed [for muse of choice]

[fountainpenguin]

Hello! This isn't trying to pressure you or anything, I'm just genuinely curious and wanted to know about your plans for Mario content (since I know you've wanted to do that for a while). Any fun worldbuilding you'd like to share? :)

Thanks for the Ask!

Man, I wrote Mario world stuff ages ago that I completely forgot about... I had a 100 Prompts series and I think I got into the 30s before it stopped. I had tons of worldbuilding for Cackletta and Fawful specifically since they were my favorites :)

I do still keep my [current] Mario drafts around, but unfortunately I'm not sure when I'll post them... I'm never satisfied. I like the canon worldbuilding the way it is and it Does Not Translate very well into my writing style. I've tried for years, but it just... doesn't.

My Mario stuff is "okay," but it just feels very "meh" to me. I think I'll get there someday if I'm willing to work on it, but I'm not able to do that right now. I HAVE actually thought about it and I might post the occasional one-shot, but I'm not sure yet. My worldbuilding is still all over the place and it's very messy and I'm not in love with it.

---

One of my stories is called "Political Machines" and it's about how the name "Mario Kart" came to be; it's Peach POV and delves into the culture of racing Yoshis back before karts came around. I like the idea of it a lot, but it's extremely info-dumpy and I've been struggling with it for years. I think I need to write something else first, but I haven't figured out what. Here's a scene from that:

I also love how savage Peach is skdflj:

---

I also have two Bowser stories (a one-shot called "1-Down" which is Kamek POV and covers the deaths of Bowser's parents, which I LOVE but can't make it hit right) and a very loose draft for a story called Carapace Rex which is a Bowser backstory 'fic. Here's a good scene from the former:

I do miss this 'fic... I really like how extreme Bowser is despite how badly bullied he is by his abusive mom; he's vicious to her and I love that.

tbh it's actually really nice and maybe I'm overthinking it. I'd love to finish it; I just can't get the emotions right.

That said, I might take another whack at it soon and post when I'm done fiddling since I've already seen how I'll fiddle with it for years if I don't commit to a date /shrug. It's definitely one of the stories that ever was... It's just not hitting the emotions I need it to.

---

I LOVE the opening lines to Carapace Rex (not sharing for major "1-Down" spoiler reasons), but I probably won't write the latter since it's been almost 6 years since I started it back in 2018. Getting older, hoping to publish original work, and starting a new long 'fic wouldn't be a good idea (Dog's Life draft started in early 2022 and Factor in 2018; I'm just wrapping up existing projects for now, but Carapace was always super vague so I don't really want to get into it). I might turn it into a one-shot though since I really love the voice in it.

-> The concept behind Carapace was that Koopas were predators of Toads... I actually reskinned the intro for Carapace into a piece of original content I used in my advanced creative writing class in college, then reskinned it again as the backstory for my OC Courtney the snow leopard, then reskinned it again to be the original project I took to a writer's conference this year...

I'm dying to do something original with predators and prey, but I've had a lot of talks with agents and editors and professional authors and we agreed it's not the right time for this content. To make a long story short, I'd either have to strip the fantasy politics out and de-age the characters so it's "animal people middle grade" or I'd have to age up the characters and push the adult angle and I... I don't know how I feel about my public author persona being "adult furry content"...... that's not what I want; I just want wolf kids hunting in the woods for their coming of age and growing up in this post-war world of fantasy politics and ceremonies... sob. The publishing world has categories though and you have to play by the rules.

Maybe someday... but I have a weird relationship with Carapace because of that, because I'm in LOVE with the scenes from it but I'd hate to use them in Mario fanfic when I'd like to use them in original work. Tsk-tsk. Maybe someday once I've already gotten my foot in the door. I'm keeping this project on the backburner as something I might self-publish but I've talked to a lot of people and I'd rather get something published traditionally and try to build my author platform before I invest, because self-pub is... expensive.

Honestly right now Dog's Life is giving me my "we're way too young to be carrying the weight of this many interspecies politics on our shoulders" fix, so at least I have that <3

---

I also have an 8-chapter 'fic called "Out of You" which is about Kamek trying to raise the Koopalings (and Junior). I'll probably scrap most of that and rehash it as something else; I don't think there's much worth saving...? I'll have to think about it.

But here's my favorite WIP scene from it, ft. Ludwig and Peach:

:)

Potential's good, fun is good... Just need to find the right kind of worldbuilding that satisfies me. I'd originally hoped to post Mario stuff before the movie came out in April, but I just never got around to it. Maybe someday? It just doesn't feel right, though, and I can't invest my energy in something I'm not in love with.

---

That's all I have to say right now; I don't want to say too much about my worldbuilding since it's still super messy. I have ideas about what would be "cool" or "interesting" but I just... don't love those ideas enough to make them part of "my take" on the world. There is a fine line between "Riddle's usual magical realism writing style" and "At this point it's an AU." I think I need to cull back the crazy ideas and stick closer to canon.

Is that "boring" and "uncreative"? Eh, I think that's just where my passion lies; I write fanfics because I love the media, and if I didn't love it, I wouldn't be writing fanfics. When I write, I want to continue writing the worldbuilding that I love, which means basing it closely on the media. I guess I'll always be canon compliant at heart even in a fandom where I'm okay with writing AUs, ha ha.

Maybe I'll dig up some of my really old one-shots from that 100 prompts project, clean them up a little, and post some of them. I know there were some Baby Bowser and Doopliss pieces in there. Might be a nice icebreaker.

[sketchthestoryteller]

June Progress Report

My Dev log of sorts for my current project, read at your own risk /Light hearted

May 29th Got to work on a very basic rough draft for my new idea.

June 5th Began work on the official project, have a good grasp on how I want things to go, will need to look into some HTML though. Got some of the prologue written out into Twine, gonna have to figure out the UI business.

June 6th Experimented with the UI styling, I managed to get something working! I'll have to experiment with hex colors but so far, it's looking great! Added what I had first draft wise into Twine, getting started on some basic variables. I only have one option for the other variables written out rn. I need to add the character customization as well but so far I'm making good progress. I'll also do some experimenting with the UI styling in the future.

June 13th Experimented with the UI, figuring out how to affect the links, might want to consider a scroll method with a fixed box position. Got something going for the default one, which will be the basis for the other UI. Finished the second draft for the AO3 story on the 11th, going to start either the final draft or the brothers First Meet first draft. Either or. Also added a side bar for testing purposes, might remove before posting. Struggled with getting the UI to work, may have to use Java script. Finished the third draft for the AO3 introduction, got started on the alternative choices for the interactive fiction. Might focus on the more variable heavy stuff for a while and write while I figure out this UI business.

June 15th Got started on the first draft of the brothers meeting.

June 16th Got a good chunk of the first draft with Osomatsu done, things might be expanded upon in the future or it may not, I'll try to keep each interaction the same length (or as close as I can)

June 22nd Wrote a bit of the first interactions with the brothers a few days ago, added some loop confirmations. Added the base working for the Hub (more a blank slate than anything) Prepared the door passages, Added the basics of the character customization (without polish or in terms of spelling corrections) Haven't tested it properly yet but I'm planning on it after a bit more writing/editing is done. Finished adding the variables to all the necessary portions of the story (Character customization only) Added the shells for the scrapbook, adventure and character.

June 23rd Added the start up variables for the later adventures. Got the basic system down for the Scrapbook, mainly for the characters, may fiddle around with the adventure log a bit. Planning on implementing a save system, a basic one to keep things in order hopefully. Once everything is prepared for the introduction, we'll see how stitching together works out.

June 24th Wrote a bit more for Osomatsu's path, planning on writing more for the others either today or tomorrow.

June 29th Progressed a little more into the second draft within the project itself (AO3 is already in it's 3rd draft and ready to be published but I'm holding out until the First Meet is at least done.) It's only the groundwork route for now, I'll work on the others in time. Visual Update: