#a more bigger drawing than usual but i think it turned out good!! :D

[greglow03]

Bro said No Gherkins!🥒🥒

Okay, so this is something I cooked up!🤗 Was inspired by the "No pickles post". But instead of them not hearing it, they didn't understand him, lol. Greg ain't happy his bro got gherkins in his burger, so he's standing up for Evan :3 - The bros🙍‍♂️🙍‍♂️

(fyi - gherkin is british for pickle, and we know our boy Evan is British 0w0)

Hope you like 'em! :33

drawing with no text below \/\/\/

Rambling in the tags :3

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: so. this wasn’t a fic i planned on writing but kind of needed to, in order to just process some shit. i had the same thyroid surgery a couple of years ago, but only had half of it out at the time. i recently had a little bit of a scare that there was something going on with the remaining half (there wasn’t, i’m all good!!) but i sat down ready to write a different andrei fic and this one came out instead 😬 it’s kind of funny, because i wanted to post an andrei fic on the one year anniversary of posting that first andrei fic and it weirdly worked out that this fic is an opposite of that first one - andrei taking care of reader as opposed to her taking care of him after the acl injury. anyway, stupidly long note over and just one final thing: i have been so grateful and blessed by all the love for my hockey fics this past year and i’m looking forward to writing more fun fics for you guys 🤍

word count: 6.6k

tw: cancer mention, surgery mention, incisions and scarring mention

summary: when you have a medical scare, it’s andrei’s turn to take care of you

You manage to keep your emotions under control and locked away until you get home and Andrei’s head pops up over the back of the couch, television remote in hand, smile on his face as he asks, “how was your day?”

The words are barely out of his mouth before you’re bursting into hysterical tears, sobs wracking your entire body. Your bag slips off your shoulder and lands on the floor with a thump and you can’t see Andrei’s face fall in fear through your tears. But a second later, his arms are strong around your body, his chest solid under your cheek as he crushes you in a hug.

You’re grateful for it, for his solid presence, because the second he touches you, your knees buckle and he’s the only thing keeping you standing.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” Andrei’s voice is thick with fear, one large hand stroking the back of your head. His voice shakes when he asks, “did someone die?”

You manage a shake of your head against his chest, breath hiccuping out of your chest. Your lungs feel tight and you’re pretty sure you’re not getting enough oxygen in on your shaky, shallow breaths. Andrei pulls back slightly and cradles your face in his hands, fingers gripping just slightly too tight. The pressure grounds you and even though you’re still sobbing, your breathing feels easier.

“Solnyshka, please, what’s happening?” Andrei studies you with worried eyes, his accent stronger than usual. His thumbs swipe over your cheeks, like windshield wipers getting rid of your tears. “You’re scaring me.”

“D-doctor called,” you manage to choke out and Andrei’s grip on your face gets tighter. Your stomach swirls with nausea and you’re afraid that you might vomit on him.

Andrei mutters a curse under his breath, your reaction isn’t for good news.

You raise a shaky hand to your mouth and press your fingertips against your lips, muffling your voice as you choke out a fragmented sentence, “b-biopsy was, um, it’s - they said. Oh fuck, um, c-cancer.”

The word hangs in the air between your bodies, dropped like a bomb.

Andrei’s eyes go wide and he stares at you, jaw going slack. “Fuck,” he grits out the curse and you press the heels of your palms into your eye sockets, hard, until you see little white starbursts.

One of his hands slides down the side of your jaw until his thumb is right over the lump just above your collarbone, the cause of your tears. He’d been the one to notice it months ago, pressing a kiss to your skin and mumbling that something felt off. You’d brushed him off, like an idiot, thinking it was nothing until he had mentioned it again a few weeks later, noting that it was bigger. Twice more he had to comment on it before you went to your doctor, starting down a path of blood draws, ultrasounds, CT scans, and most recently, a biopsy.

You feel like an idiot for waiting so long.

Andrei’s lips meet your forehead, a warm kiss stabilizing you. He mumbles something against your skin and wraps his arms around you again in a tight hug. You lean heavily against him, mind going a mile a minute, your doctor’s words ringing in your ears. Without realizing it, Andrei gently ushers you up to your room, helping you strip off your clothes and turning on the shower for you. You blink at him and he cups your cheek.

“Shower,” he says, voice hoarse. “Clean the day off, yes? Then we figure it out. Together.”

You nod, wiping at the tears still sliding down your cheeks. “Please don’t leave?” Your voice cracks. You don’t think you can be alone with your thoughts right now. “Just…just tell me about something. Anything.”

“Okay,” he nods and leans against the countertop, arms crossed over his stomach. He’s quiet for a few moments while you get situated in the shower, hot water running over your face. You splutter out the water when it fills your mouth and tears well up in your eyes again. Andrei’s eyes study you as he slowly begins to tell you about practice, clearly trying to remember each and every little detail that he can to try and distract you.

It sort of works, drawing a faint laugh when he tells you about Pyotr’s latest adventure in the crease, but also your brain can’t stop thinking about the c-word. It’s a constant loop in your brain - “I’m sorry, the biopsy was positive for malignant cells. Thyroid cancer. I’m scheduling you for an appointment in two days to discuss the plan going forward.”

Without you really participating, still in a daze, Andrei turns the shower off and bundles you in a towel, rubbing his hands up and down you arms to get some warmth in your body. He guides you into the bedroom and quickly helps you into sweats, bundling you up under the covers before climbing in next to you and pulling you close so your chest is flush against his.

“You’re shaking,” he comments, squeezing you tightly. Your head is tucked under his chin, nose pressed against his neck.

“She didn’t say,” you mumble, cutting yourself off. “What if it’s - what if it’s bad?”

Andrei shakes his head above you and his fingertips draw nonsense patterns on your back. “It won’t be,” he says firmly.

“But what if it is?” You press him in a shaky voice. “What if I’m like, just -“

“Stop,” he says shortly, interrupting your spiral. You shut your mouth with a little snap. “When do you see doctor again?”

“Two days,” you reply. “The first appointment, eight in the morning.”

Normally your doctor is booked up weeks in advance. The fact that she’s squeezing you in last minute only makes your heart beat faster, nausea churn in your stomach. It must be bad, for her to make sure you get in quickly. If it weren’t, wouldn’t she just let you schedule a normal appointment?

Andrei’s talking, but you don’t hear him over your spiralling thoughts. “Sorry,” you tap on his chest, drawing his attention. “I wasn’t- what were you saying?”

He kisses the crown of your head. “You can have breakfast before? I’ll take you for coffee before we go to the appointment. Is the office near that coffee shop you like?”

“You - wait,” you’re still not really processing what he’s saying, too hung up on cancercancercancer.

“Breakfast before your appointment,” Andrei repeats. His legs tangle with yours.

“You don’t have to -“ you start to say, shaking your head. He doesn’t need to be burdened with your medical stuff now.

Andrei interrupts you with a little pat to your ass. “I’m coming with you, final. No arguing, solnyshka,” his cheek rests against your head and you can feel his hands tremble a little against your back.

“Okay,” you murmur. “No arguing. But you might be late for practice…I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

The thought of going to your appointment alone is terrifying though and you’re grateful that Andrei offered, that you didn’t have to ask. Because you wouldn’t have asked, not when you know he’s busy and distracted with the season. Not when you’re an adult and should be able to handle this on your own.

“Leave to me,” he says. “I’ll handle, okay? Just try to relax now and then we’ll have dinner.”

“I can’t eat,” you reply immediately, your stomach lurches violently. The thought of food is enough to have you ready to rush for the toilet. Frankly, you’re surprised you haven’t already vomited from the sheer anxiety of the situation.

“Then you can watch me eat,” Andrei jokes, surprising a weak giggle from you. You can feel his cheek move against the top of your head with a smile and allow yourself to focus on the steady beat of his heart under your cheek until you fall into a fitful, unsatisfying sleep.

The next day drags and speeds by and before you know it, you’re waking up at 4:30 in the morning on the day of your appointment. You try to stay quiet on your side of the bed, so you don’t wake Andrei up - there was a game last night and he’d gotten home late - but he’s more attuned to you than you realized. His hand slides over your hip, squeezing gently.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper into the dark. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

His eyes are still shut and his voice is low and hoarse with sleep, but Andrei’s lips curl up in a sleepy, lazy smile. “Didn’t wake me,” he mumbles into the pillow as his hand finds yours. You lace your fingers with his, feeling the ridges of his knuckles with the pads of your fingers. “Don’t want you nervous alone.”

“Thanks,” you manage to choke out the word around the lump of emotion lodged in your throat. Andrei tugs on your hand and you slide closer to him, letting him tuck you under his arm and bury his face in your neck.

“Sleep again. Alarm is set,” his breath is warm on your skin and his arm is a heavy, reassuring weight over your stomach. You close your eyes and let yourself mimic Andrei’s slow, steady breathing. It’s not easy and your brain continues whirling a mile a minute, thinking about the lump on your neck, the possible treatment, possible long term effects. You just wish you knew already how bad it is.

Andrei grunts next to you, blowing little pieces of hair from your face. “Stop thinking, solnyshka. You’re going to start a fire with all your thoughts,” he kisses your shoulder and pulls you closer, crushing you against his side so tightly it’s almost hard to breathe. You focus on the weight of his arm and the heat of his body until you can feel your heartbeat slow down.

The next time you wake up, it’s to an empty bed and the smell of eggs and bacon in the air. You yawn and stretch out, turning your head to see the time on your Hatch. 6:45, a much more reasonable time to be awake.

A pit sits heavy in your stomach and you scrub a hand over your face, swallowing harshly around the lump in your throat. Just over an hour until you really know what you’re dealing with.

You can hear Andrei moving around in the kitchen and with a heavy sigh, you push yourself out of bed and move on auto-pilot to get ready for the appointment. You take time with your hair and makeup, feeling a little bit better once you start looking like a human again.

“Hi,” you greet Andrei quietly once you head down to the kitchen. He looks up from where he’s scrolling on his phone while eating his first breakfast of eggs and bacon.

“Morning,” he opens one arm for you to come and lean against him. You rest your head on his shoulder and he kisses the top of your head. “Sleep well?”

You lift one shoulder in a shrug and Andrei chuckles a bit. “Snored and drooled all over me,” he teases, “so it was a rhetorical question.”

“I did not!” You protest, a spark of energy flaring while you defend yourself. You push back from Andrei’s side and squint at him, a little pout on your lips.

“Did too,” Andrei grins and when he grabs your chin in his hand to draw you in for a kiss, you know he provoked you on purpose and is happy with the result.

You exhale a scoff through your nose when he pulls back, shit-eating grin still on his face. “Terrible man,” you murmur affectionately.

His grin turns smirky and his hand slides down to rest against the curve of your ass. He pats lightly, a little frisson of heat traveling through your body at the contact. You sigh and lean into him again, not looking forward to leaving the little bubble of your home.

At the coffee shop, you pick at the cinnamon scone Andrei had forced into your hands, crumbs littering the tabletop as you shred it with your fingers. Andrei studies you, chewing on the black plastic straw in his iced white chocolate mocha. You’re startled when he abruptly asks, “where do you want to go this summer?”

Crumbs skitter across the table when your fingers jolt and you blink at him, hands frozen in midair. “What?” You ask, shaking your head and processing. It clicks a second later and you continue, “I…I can’t think about the summer, Drei. I just need to get through today.”

He keeps chewing on the straw and you can’t help but watch his lips as they move. “Solnyshka, when this is over and you’re not going anywhere on vacation, you’ll tell me that we should have planned something,” he smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. “So, where do you want to go this summer?”

Tears prickle at your eyes, again, overwhelmed by Andrei’s thoughtfulness. Pausing for time and to make sure your voice isn’t shaky when you do speak, you look down at the massacred scone and brush your fingers together to get rid of the crumbs on your fingers. “Um,” you clear your throat, “I don’t know, really. Nykki and Martin love Mauritius. Maybe there?”

“Whatever you want,” Andrei agrees easily, slurping at his drink. He pushes the napkin with a larger chunk of scone on it towards you. “Eat,” he demands, tone firm.

You take a small bite, just to appease him, but the pastry tastes like sawdust in your mouth.

Andrei holds your hand throughout the entire appointment and you’re grateful for his presence, because you can’t focus on anything your doctor says after ‘stage I papillary thyroid cancer’ and ‘surgery’ and ‘radioactive iodine treatment, just to be sure.’ He squeezes your fingers tighter and tighter as your doctor talks, pointing out something on the black and white images of your ultrasound and CT scan. The blurry blobs could be anything and you honestly have no idea what she’s pointing at.

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, blood rushing like you’re underwater, as she explains the surgery you’ll be undergoing. A thyroidectomy to remove your entire thyroid and the cancerous lymph nodes. In and out in the hospital, a straight line cut across your lower throat. A scar unless you’re good with applying Vitamin E oil or Mederma. Possible damage to your vocal cords, but that’s very rare.

“What does your schedule look like in the next month?” She asks, briskly but not unkindly.

You blink at her and shake your head slightly. Andrei looks at you, waiting for an answer. “I, um,” you pause, trying to mentally access your calendar, “I’m open. I just…have to put in the leave time at work.”

“Good,” she says, looking down at the paper calendar on her desktop and running her finger over the boxes, “we’ll schedule your thyroidectomy for a week and a half from today, that’s a lighter day for me. All the pre-op information will be in your portal and we’ll go from there on scheduling the rest of your treatment. Any questions?”

A million.

“No,” you murmur, “um, not right now.”

“Can I stay with her?” Andrei leans forward to ask. “When she has surgery?”

“You can wait in the waiting room while she’s under,” your doctor replies. “And once she’s out of the anaesthesia and discharged, you’ll have to drive her home. She won’t be able to drive for a day or so while the anaesthesia really works out of her system.”

You’re shaking your head. “No, you have work. You have practice and games, someone else will drive me. I’ll ask Nykki…”

“No,” Andrei turns to you with wide brown eyes. “I’ll drive you. I’ll be there, solnyshka.”

You shake your head again, but keep quiet because you don’t want to have a fight with Andrei in front of the doctor. The rest of the appointment is routine scheduling and you leave with your head swimming and a surgery date burned into your brain.

You’re quiet the rest of the day and Andrei doesn’t push you to talk, instead trying to go about your routine as normally as possible. He’s missed practice - “personal reasons” Rod’s quoted as saying on Twitter, but “nothing that will prevent him from playing tomorrow.”

The next week and a half feels like a blur - you’re distracted and anxious with Andrei playing three games in seven days, two of them on the road, taking him away from you. He’s back the day before your surgery and doesn’t say anything when you greet him at the door with a tight hug and cling to him for the rest of the night, your stomach growling since you can’t eat, both from the anxiety and the pre-surgical requirements.

“Are you sure about missing the game tomorrow?” You ask later, when it’s dark and you’re buried under the blankets. “I feel -“

“Don’t feel bad,” Andrei rubs small circles over your back. “I made decision. Rod understands. You are more important than the game and the boys promised to win for you.”

A soft giggle escapes into the air and some of your guilt along with it. You hate that Andrei’s missing the game, hate that he’s missing it for you. You hate that everyone seems to know your personal business too, but you know Andrei had needed to talk about what you’re going through too.

His other hand moves up to your scalp and scratches gently, tension seeping from your shoulders. “Get some sleep,” he kisses your cheek. “Early day tomorrow.”

“I love you,” you whisper. “So much.”

Andrei has to practically manhandle you into the car in the morning, making sure you’re dressed comfortably and warm. Your head rests against the window as he drives. “I’ll pick up some groceries while you’re napping,” he says, brushing his thumb over your knee. “Anything you want specific?”

“Butterscotch pudding,” you ask hopefully, smiling a little. You try not to eat a ton of processed foods, but you figure post-surgery you’ll indulge.

“On it,” Andrei grins at you, dimple popping. He looks calm, which reassures you. Once he parks and you enter the hospital, everything speeds up and slows down. Andrei helps you fill out paperwork while you change into the hospital gown and grippy socks.

You fold up your clothes neatly and put them in the little duffle bag you brought along. Andrei catches sight of the pile and raises an eyebrow, “are you not wearing underwear?”

Your cheeks heat up with a flush and you hold the gown shut behind you. “No,” you hiss, “I’m not allowed to. Don’t even start with me.”

“I wasn’t going to,” his smile is a little too sneaky and you try to climb onto the bed in a way that doesn’t leave your entire ass exposed. You fail miserably, if the little wolf-whistle Andrei lets out is any indication.

“I hate you,” you mutter, pulling the sheet up around your legs. You’re both quiet while the nurse comes around to make sure all your paperwork is filled out and signed. Andrei immediately reaches for your hand when the nurse puts the IV line in your other hand - “for the anesthesia, later,” she explains - knowing that you hate needles more than anything.

And then there’s nothing to do but wait.

Andrei’s sitting on the edge of the bed, texting and reading out the messages that the guys are directing to you. “Jarvy,” he says, wincing at the screen, “wants to know if you get to keep your thyroid once it’s removed.”

“Uh, no,” you reply flatly, face screwing up in disgust at the thought of it. “I hate this.”

His hand lands on your knee and rubs it through the sheet. “It will be over before you know it,” he soothes you. “In meantime, Skjeisy says you can join me and him in the cool scar club.”

Your hand subconsciously lifts to your throat, fingers wrapping around it loosely, and you blow out a breath, puffing up your cheeks. “Not a club I really wanted to join,” you say wryly.

You scroll through Twitter absently, a pit of guilt settling low in your stomach when you see the Tweet from the Canes’ account that Andrei’s missing tonight’s game for personal reasons. Your thumb hovers over the tweet, ready to tap on it and read the replies, when Andrei plucks the device from your hands. “Hey!” You protest, reaching for your phone. Andrei pulls it out of your reach.

“No more social media,” he says, tucking your phone in the back pocket of his jeans for safe keeping. With his other hand, he digs a little envelope out of his front pocket. “I forgot, yesterday, to give this to you. But mom sent this and I was supposed to give it to you before surgery,” he settles the little envelope in your hands and you look at it curiously.

Opening the flap, you tilt the contents out onto the palm of your hand - a little gold medallion on a chain. You hold it up to your face and see the tiny icon embossed into the gold. “Who is this?” You ask, rubbing your thumb over the image.

“Saint Anastasia,” Andrei replies, “she was a healer, I think. Mama wanted to make sure you were protected.”

Elena’s gesture of love and concern hits you like a punch to the stomach and you startle both yourself and Andrei by bursting out into ugly, loud sobs. Your face crumples and fingers tighten around the chain.

Andrei lets out a noise of distress that you can barely hear over your crying and rush of blood in your ears. His arms wrap around your upper body and you bury your face in his chest, getting tears and snot everywhere. “It’s okay,” he whispers in your ear, stroking a hand over your hair. “Hey, stop crying, nurses are going to think something is wrong. Shh.”

“I just really love your mom,” you wail into his chest, muffled by his shirt.

Andrei keeps shushing you, alternating with trying to comfort you. You sniffle and pull back, wiping at your face with the back of your wrist. “Better?” Andrei asks, cupping your chin. His lips are drawn down in a concerned frown.

“A little, yeah,” you nod, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping one arm around them. You hold your other hand up, the little pendant dangling from its chain in between your faces. “Can you keep this safe for me?”

He nods and lets you clasp the chain around his neck. The little pendant falls into place against his chest, dwarfed next to his giant cross. You smooth your fingertips over the icon and his cross, lingering for a few heartbeats over the warm metals. Andrei’s hand comes up to cover yours and he squeezes your fingers. “You are going to be perfect, solnyshka,” he mumbles, lifting your hand to his mouth to kiss your fingertips.

“Okay, kids,” your nurse, a cheerful older woman named Monica, appears at the foot of your bed, drawing yours and Andrei’s attention, “one more kiss and then I’m whisking you off to the best sleep of your life.”

Andrei squeezes your fingers again and presses a soft kiss against your lips, mumbling, “see you soon.”

You press your fingers into his chest, digging your nails into the fabric of his shirt, fingers curling like you’re going to hold on and not let go. With a shaky sigh, you release him and manage a brave little smile, “don’t forget my butterscotch pudding.”

He nods, laughing under his breath, and then Monica’s helping you get settled back on the bed and Andrei steps off to the side while a whole little team appears to transport you to the operating room. You twist your fingers together anxiously, stomach turning, and turn on the bed so you can keep looking at Andrei until you’re completely out of the pre-op ward. He catches your eye and winks, waving a little and tapping his other hand over his chest, where your icon hangs next to his cross.

“He’s a real cutie,” Monica comments idly, drawing your attention once the swinging doors are shut behind your little parade and Andrei’s out of sight.

“Oh,” you hum faintly, “he really is. I don’t deserve him, honestly.”

“Now, I’m sure that’s not true,” she keeps chatting as you get situated on the operating table, climbing awkwardly from your bed, trying to keep the gown closed over your ass. “You’re just as cute, even more, I’d say.”

“Thanks,” you laugh a little, the compliment warming the icy block of nerves lodged in your chest. Once you’re laid out on the table, you run a hand over your sternum, breathing deeply.

The surgeon comes in and offers you a warm smile, “I promise, I’m really good at this.”

You’re thrown off a little by the statement and he nods, clearly pleased with himself. “I find that patients always want me to be a little cocky,” he continues, sitting down on a wheeling stool next to the table you’re on. “We’ll be done before you know it and you’ll wake up feeling extremely well-rested.”

“As long as you’ve got the skill to back up your words,” you say, surprisingly reassured a bit by his no-nonsense manner.

Monica pats your hand and grins, “he does. Now, count back from ten and you’ll be back with that sweetheart of yours in no time.”

Your lips curl up briefly and you angle your head away when you feel the little tug on the IV in your hand indicating that the anesthesia is getting attached and started. In your head, you start the count at ten, nine, eight —

“Oh, looks like she’s coming around,” a voice breaks through the dark haziness surrounding you and you try to blink, but your body feels too heavy.

There’s a warm pressure on your hand and you twitch your fingers against it. A little shiver works its way through your body, you’re freezing.

The warmth on your hand moves up your arm - a hand stroking against your skin. “Whenever you’re ready,” the familiar accent washes over you, “I can’t wait to see those eyes, solnyshka.”

A hum forms in the back of your throat and that’s a mistake because it hurts and you let yourself fall back asleep to avoid the pain.

The next time you wake up, the bright lights of the hospital almost force you to close your eyes again. You grumble wordlessly and the noise draws Andrei’s attention from where he’s sitting in a chair next to your bed, scrolling on his phone. He looks over at you and his face immediately breaks out into a wide, dimpled smile.

“Hey,” he greets you, scooting the chair closer and reaching for your hands. His are still warm against your cold ones and it’s nice when his thumb brushes over the backs of your knuckles. “How do you feel?”

Before answering, you take stock of your body and you’re surprised to find that you feel pretty good beyond the pain in your throat. That feels like you’re swallowing knives. “‘M okay,” you manage to mumble quietly, wincing at the stretch of your skin. “C’n I have water?”

“Da,” Andrei pours water into a little plastic cup and hands it to you, plunking a straw in the water. You take a sip and it feels so good going down, the cold water soothing the burning. You sigh happily and sink back into the pillows.

“How’d it go?” You ask, rolling your head so your cheek is resting on your shoulder and you can see Andrei better. Your voice scratches out of your throat, raspy and hoarse like you’d just smoked a pack of cigarettes.

“Surgeon says perfect,” Andrei grins, the crinkles around his eyes deepening. “You did so good, solnyshka.”

His fingers never stop stroking yours and you melt at the contact, glad his the first face you saw when you woke up. “Wonder how bad the scar is,” you mutter, resisting the urge to touch your lower neck, where the skin feels tight and battered. “Can I see?”

Andrei’s hesitation and slight frown before he says, “maybe not best idea right now,” tells you all you need to know.

“Oh my god,” your eyes go wide, panic starting to claw at your chest. “He botched me! I’m botched, it’s a horrible scar, right?”

“No, no!” Andrei shakes his head frantically. “Not botched! It just, with the glue, there’s no stitches. But you can see all the blood. It looks worse than it is, the surgeon said.”

“But it looks really bad,” you confirm and before Andrei can say anything, Monica appears behind his shoulder.

“Look at you, awake and ready to go,” she smiles, effectively cutting off any discussion about your neck, and asking how you feel while filling out your chart. You answer as honestly as you can, voice growing more hoarse the longer you talk. “Well, everything looks really good. We’re going to keep you here for a few more hours and then, if everything keeps looking good, you’ll be back home before dinner time.”

You and Andrei chime a simultaneous ‘thank you’ as she leaves.

“Give me my phone,” you demand and Andrei shakes his head.

“No way,” he taps the back of your hand. “I’ll be your secretary. You’re just going to get upset if you look.”

“I won’t!” You counter petulantly, poking your lower lip out. “I just want to see.”

“When we get home,” he promises and you scowl at him. He effortlessly changes the subject, showing you a picture of Gigi that Martin had apparently sent earlier. You smile at your favorite puppy, swallowing often to try and ease the sharp pain. It doesn’t do much other than intensify the pain and you start to regret it, closing your eyes for another nap.

By the time you’re cleared for discharge, the pain meds have worn off completely and your neck hurts, a dark mood clouding your head. Andrei is patient with you, helping you change back into your sweats and zip-up. You protest the wheelchair an orderly brings around, but you’re told it’s hospital policy and you slump into the seat, crossing your arms over your chest. Andrei runs his hand over the crown of your head as he walks next to you, carrying your empty duffel bag.

Instead of driving his Lamborghini, your Toyota Rav is waiting at the curb and you smile. “Oh thank god,” you mutter and Andrei laughs.

“Didn’t think you’d want to get down low in my car,” he explains, holding out a hand to help you stand and then climb up into the passenger seat. He left a blanket in the car for you too and you take the opportunity to cover yourself up with it while he goes around the front of the car. You wave at the orderly through the window and Andrei starts the car.

“You thought right,” you yawn. It’s a fast drive home and you’re grateful for that, because all you want to do is rinse off and lay down. Considering you’d been under anesthesia for a couple of hours, you’re exhausted. You’re so tired, you forget to flip down the visor mirror to look at your incision.

Once you’re home, Andrei bundles you into the house, one hand solid against your lower back as he guides you up the front path. “I know you want to shower,” Andrei says, “but remember the doctor said not to get the glue wet for twenty four hours.”

You whine, cranky and desperate for a shower. “I want all the gross hospital feeling off of me, Drei,” you pout, toeing off your sneakers and crossing your arms.

He drops your tote next to your sneakers and raises an eyebrow. “I know, you can get in the bath and I’ll wash your hair. We’ll be careful with your neck, okay ?”

Your neck feels stiff and your throat is still sore, but you nod, just wanting to take your Tylenol and relax. When you shuffle further into the house, you spot bouquets of flowers on the kitchen island and gasp. “What are those?” You whisper hoarsely, tears prickling at your eyes.

“Oh, right,” Andrei laughs. “Special deliveries for my girl. The team sent and your office, Neci and Nykki. My parents, your parents, Geno.”

Tears slip down your cheeks and you feel overwhelmed with love. You wipe at your eyes with the heels of your palms and turn to Andrei for a hug. He embraces you easily and you shake your head. “I didn’t want everyone to know,” your throat hurts more when you cry.

“Only the important people,” he says. “Everyone loves you, solnyshka.”

The reminder of how many people are supporting you makes you think of Elena’s gift and you pull back from Andrei’s chest. “Can I have my necklace back now?” You ask in a shaky voice.

“Of course,” he unclasps the thin chain from his neck and hooks it around yours, pleased to see that the chain doesn’t touch your glued over incision. He taps the pendant with the tip of his finger and kisses your temple.

After an unsatisfying bath and a glance in the mirror that shows the dark rings under your eyes and the gruesome looking wound on your neck, you’re more or less clean and you build a nest of blankets and pillows on your bed, tucking yourself into the middle of it all. You have to sleep sitting up or partially reclined for the first night and it’s not your favorite way to sleep, so you prop a bunch of pillows around your head and hope that works. Andrei brings you a butterscotch pudding and climbs onto his side of the bed so you can watch the game.

“My neck looks awful,” you blurt, unable to stop thinking about it.

“It doesn’t,” Andrei replies. “Just for now with the blood and glue.”

“The scar is going to be so obvious in pictures,” you poke at the pudding with your spoon.

“You look badass,” Andrei rolls onto his side and grins at you. “Like a warrior.”

You scowl at him, feeling like he’s making fun of you even though you know he’s completely serious. You jab at the pudding again, suddenly nauseous. “I wish this was it,” you mutter, still raspy and hoarse and you’re really hoping it’s just temporary and that the surgeon didn’t actually fuck up your vocal cords. “But I still have the radiation and then who knows…”

“One day at a time,” Andrei knocks your foot with his. “That’s what you said to me, right? Every time I’ve been recovering, it’s one day at a time.”

He’s right, for each and every one of his injuries, you had been preaching taking recovery one day at a time. You suppose it’s time to practice what you preach now. Still, your anxiety ratchets up every time you think about the c-word, darkness and worst case scenarios dancing in your head. You twist your fingers around a piece of hair, fidgeting as you mind spins.

Andrei’s hand snakes over your thigh, rubbing gently at the soft fabric of your sweats. He rests his chin just above your knee and says, “hey, look at me.” It feels weird when he talks, chin bouncing on your leg, but you look down at him.

“Hm?” You chew at your lower lip.

“One day at a time,” he repeats firmly, refusing to break eye contact with you. When you nod and he’s satisfied, he presses a kiss to your knee and rolls back onto his back. “Who do you think scores first?” He gestures to the TV, trying to lighten the mood in the room.

You play along, wanting to avoid the pain and the scary future for now. Scooping out a bite of pudding and sticking the spoon in your mouth, you hum around the dessert before teasing, “oh, it’s definitely going to be Pyotr.”

Life goes pretty much back to normal over the next few days, you’re back at work and Andrei hits the road with the team. The glue over your incision flakes off and while the cut is a vivid, angry-looking red, it’s a clean, straight line only about three inches long. You’re obsessive about applying Mederma and Vitamin E oil to help the scar fade as quickly as possible. Your voice is still a little raspy, but it’s getting better slowly.

By the end of the week, you’re working up the courage to call your doctor to schedule your radiation therapy session. It’s a terrifying thought and your hands shake every time you think about it. But Andrei had sent a text this morning, reminding you to make the call. And you don’t want to let him down, not after how supportive he’s been. So, you stare down at the contact information for your doctor’s office, wishing you could, like, use the Force to make the call.

Startling you, the phone begins to vibrate on the table, the same contact information you had been looking at flashing on the screen.

“Holy shit,” you mutter to yourself, blinking stupidly at the phone and swiping at the last second to accept the call. “Hello?”

It’s your doctor, making a personal call, the smile evident in her voice. Within minutes, you’re sobbing with relief as she tells you they ran additional tests on the tissue taken from your neck and while the initial thought and course of action had been to have radiation therapy, the surgeon was confident he had gotten all the cancerous tissue out of your neck.

“You’re cancer-free,” she tells you cheerfully. “I love making these calls.”

“Really?” You manage to squeak out the word around your tears.

“Really. You’ll have to be on a synthetic thyroid pill for the rest of your life and see me every four to six months for blood tests and evaluations,” she explains, “but I am very confident that the malignancy is gone and you won’t need radiation therapy.”

The rest of the conversation passes in a blur and you’re pretty sure the only thing you manage to say is a repeated ‘thank you, thank you, thank you’ before the call ends.

You sit on the couch, shell-shocked, gripping the little icon hanging around your neck.

That’s where Andrei finds you when he gets back from morning skate, tears dripping down your cheeks. Before he can ask, you catch his eyes and beam, “cancer free.”

Andrei lets out an unintelligible, strangled noise of joy and rushes to the couch, swinging you up in his arms and holding you to his chest in a bruising hug. He murmurs in Russian in your ear and you can feel his shoulders shake a little. “I love you,” he murmurs, while you cling to him, “I love you so much, solnyshka. So much.”

His arms are tight around your back and you hook your legs around his waist, not wanting to let go any time soon. Your face is buried in his neck and you’re not sure if his skin is damp from his shower or your tears, but you can’t stop crying.

“Did you book Mauritius?” You laugh wetly into Andrei’s shoulder.

Andrei’s laugh startles out of his chest, echoing around the living room and vibrating through your whole body. It’s your favorite sound in the whole world and you can’t wait to keep hearing it for a long time.

[calaisreno]

Trying It Out

May 20 Prompt: Experiment

“What are you wearing?” Sherlock looks up from his experiment, distracted. Something John is doing has broken the order of his disciplined mind. 

John frowns. “Erm, clothes?”

Sherlock stands, approaches John like a specimen. He sniffs. “You’re wearing cologne.”

“Yes. Occasionally I do wear fragrance.”

This is a new one. It’s lighter, fresher. Not the rubbish he ordinarily wears when he’s—

“You have a date.”

“Oh, yes. I might, that is. Going out in a bit.”

“But I thought— you broke up with… the last one. The one with the hair.”

John laughs. “They all have hair, Sherlock. I don’t recall dating any bald—”

“The one with the Hair. Big Hair. Uncontrollably Big Hair.”

“You mean Sylvia. It wasn’t that big, you berk. Just a bit retro, with the teasing.”

“Teasing?”

“What people do when they want their hair to look bigger. You take a comb, and you—”

“What have you done with your hair?”

“My hair?” John is blushing, a clue that things are not as they should be. “I just… had it highlighted. A bit. I mean, why not? Women don’t have a monopoly on—”

Gently, he lays his hand on John’s head. “Product. You never use product.”

John looks annoyed now. “If you’re done examining the crime scene, I’m going out.” 

Alone, Sherlock contemplates what sort of woman could make John put product in his hair. And wear a fragrance that doesn’t smell like something his father would wear. He can draw no conclusions.

He continues his investigation, undeterred by his lack of success. John Watson is a tough case, but he has no doubt that he will solve him.

John hasn’t worn a jumper in days. He’s grown a small goatee, and then shaved it off. He’s joined a gym, lost five pounds. 

At this moment, he’s wearing a pink shirt. Nothing bright, just a dusty pink, touchable-looking shirt, well-fitted to his torso. 

“Nice shirt,” he ventures. 

“Thanks.” John blushes again, almost as pink as his shirt. He’s disturbed, perhaps, because if Sherlock ever says anything about what John is wearing, it’s to suggest that he burn whatever jumper he’s wearing. 

Who is this man, and what has he done with John Watson? Sherlock’s flatmate dresses like an old man: check shirts, cuddly jumpers, trousers that sag a bit in the bum. Always in colours like beige, tan, brown, grey, and occasionally blue or green. He never wears pink. 

“It’s a good colour on you.”

John smiles awkwardly and walks away. The seat of his jeans is not sagging. John has a rather nice arse, he thinks. 

Several evenings each week John goes out, always around nine. He looks a bit different each time. Once he spiked his hair. He’s worn different colognes, shirts that have miraculously appeared from somewhere. Certainly not the usual shops where John buys new khakis and ugly jumpers whenever Sherlock has spilled acid on the old ones or used them in an experiment. These shirts and trousers are more expensive, much nicer than anything he normally wears.

And Sherlock deduces: John is dating a man. 

The realisation socks him in the gut, takes all the air out of his lungs, and makes his heart sink. 

Once, many months ago, John tried to flirt with Sherlock. Across a table at Angelo’s, he asked if Sherlock had a boyfriend. And he said he was unattached. Sherlock’s reaction to this was half-panic, half-disdain. Sherlock Holmes was married to his work. He didn’t have what other people have— girlfriends, boyfriends, people he went places with. 

He had John, who dated women. John, who wore lumpy jumpers and trousers that sagged, and walked like that. John, who could never get a woman to go out with him more than twice. John, who would never leave Sherlock. 

And now? John might have a boyfriend. And it’s not Sherlock, as it should have been. 

Lestrade looks like he’s itching for a cigarette. Anderson looks bored. Donovan is smirking at John, who is— checking out Lestrade’s arse?

Before Sherlock can process this, John is turning to the other cop on the scene, the one who found the body. He’s tall, darkly handsome, and obviously flirting with John. 

And John is not frowning. He’s smiling, giving him that charming look he often gives Sherlock when he’s done something unusually brilliant. That look is for Sherlock, and John’s giving it to this tall, handsome idiot! 

“Come along, John,” he says, swirling his coat impatiently and raising his hand for a cab.

John comes along.

It’s ten in the evening, about the time when John usually starts yawning and washing the tea mugs, making sounds like he’s going to bed. 

Not tonight. John is wearing a fitted black shirt and a pair of jeans that show off a number of things that Sherlock is dying to see without that layer of denim. His highlighted hair is carefully tousled, making Sherlock’s fingers itch to touch it. 

“Where are you off to?” The fact that Sherlock hardly ever asks where John is going off to means that he’s giving John an awfully big clue that he cares where John goes off to late in the evening, returning in the wee hours smelling of other mens’s cologne. 

“Just meeting some friends,” John says. 

It’s true. John has friends— unlike Sherlock, who has just one. 

“Wanna come with me?”

Sherlock looks up, startled. John has never invited Sherlock along for pub night, or watching the footy with the blokes, or meeting up with old army buddies. 

“Me?”

John smiles. “Sure. I’d like you to meet my friends.”

It’s a gay bar, as Sherlock suspected, a rather nice, upscale place. He’s actually been here before, for a case. 

“John!” The man who is calling out and motioning them over to a table is the very man of Sherlock’s nightmares. Tall and handsome, he has dark, curly hair and blue eyes. He’s grinning at John and as soon as they’re within an arm’s length, he pulls John into a hug. 

He has a companion as well, a man who is shorter, with reddish-blond hair. 

“Sherlock, meet Alex and Dustin.”

“Finally!” the taller one exclaims. “We’ve been dying to meet the boyfriend!”

Instead of declaring that he’s not gay, and that Sherlock is not his boyfriend, John smiles sheepishly at Sherlock. “Alex works in retail, men’s clothing. I met him when I decided to upgrade my wardrobe. Dustin is his boyfriend.”

And instead of denying that John is his boyfriend, Sherlock slips an arm around him. Smiling at Alex, he says, “You’ve worked an absolute miracle on his man. Thanks to you, I no longer have to resort to spilling acid on his ugly jumpers.”

John laughs. “Oi! You leave my ugly jumpers alone, you git!” 

“A pleasant evening.” Sherlock studies John’s face as they walk home. “So.”

John ducks his head, smiling. “So.”

“An experiment?”

He huffs, shaking his head. “I haven’t been totally clear with you. I’m not gay. I’m bi, and I decided it was time to explore that side of me, learn to live with it. I told Alex I wanted to impress you, the poshest man on the planet, so he picked out things for me to try.”

Sherlock stops walking, takes John in his arms. “And you told him… I’m your boyfriend?”

“Well, I’d like to be. Maybe we could consider it an experiment?”

“Hm. It might be good to collect some data.” He leans down, kisses John. “I’m fairly sure, though, that I can predict the results.”

“Me, too,” John says, rising up for another kiss. 

Flash Fiction / 1264 words

@lisbeth-kk @meetinginsamarra @raina-at @bertytravelsfar @momma2boys @jrow @helloliriels @the-reading-lemon @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @elwinglyre @mydogwatson @thetimemoves @jobooksncoffee @lhrinchelsea @peanitbear

[bg-brainrot]

Sooooo curious as to your writing process. What is it like ? How do you come up with plot points ? Or how do you decide one idea is better than another ? Where do you find inspiration ? Sorry for so many questions !

Hello Anon! No need to apologize, these are all awesome questions ✨✨ thanks for asking them!

This is going to be a long one, so a quick read more...

I'm actually going to answer them out of order, so I hope you don't mind!

A quick disclaimer: this is just how my brain approaches it, but everyone is different! Also I'm a fanfic writer doing this in my free time, none of this is professional advice or anything so take it with a grain of salt.

Where do you find inspiration?

I am one of those people who cannot stop reading, writing, watching, listening, etc. because if I'm left alone with my thoughts for too long nothing good will come of it lol. So I am constantly, constantly doing something, usually two things if I can (writing and listening to music, working out and reading webtoons, playing games and listening to audio books, playing D&D and doodling, embroidery and watching TV, the list goes on). So, to answer your question: everywhere!

Every thing I do, even if I ended up hated it, is such great inspiration to draw from. If I were to give a few things extra props, I would say D&D is phenomenal experience in putting yourself in various characters shoes and learning how to react, and webtoons are great for tropes/subverting them as well as pacing (both good and bad hah). Edit to add: Anime. I've mentioned I based my fic's arcs on anime arcs and completely forgot to list it-- very key to my inspiration!

Also lots and lots of hobbies and I will always try anything once. I've rock climbed, I've crocheted, I've done pottery, I've lockpicked (for real), I've danced, I've metal worked, I've done martial arts, etc. ADHD helps with this one 😅

Real life experiences are super helpful, but it's kind of harder to pinpoint how those are inspirational, they just kind of are.

How do you come up with plot points?

I think I once vaguely mentioned that writing BG3 fanfic feels like playing solo D&D. And that's basically how I approach plot points!

So rather than like, this happens then this happens, I look at it as if I have a framework of what I would like to happen, with certain beats that need to be met, but then I just kind of let the characters roleplay that out. Sometimes it leads to things I wasn't expecting, sometimes I need to pivot like a DM with an unruly party lol. But, since I'm working with a framework, it's usually really easy to write around the characters' choices.

For the framework itself, I usually just have a vague idea that I try to poke holes into until it turns into something bigger. So like, "reincarnation story" -> how long are they dead? Is that long enough to be impactful? Why do they care about their previous life? In what ways can they pick up from where they left off and in what ways can't they?

I do the same with one-shots to be honest: "proposing to Astarion" -> who would be involved and how? How would Tav's behavior change? How would Astarion interpret that? How would Tav react to him and pivot?

It's just a lot of questions 😂

How do you decide one idea is better than another?

This is kind of tough to do, and not always a conscious choice I'd say, but roughly two factors:

1. Is this true to the character? Which idea am I more likely to go 'oh yes, he would absolutely do that'? And if they both seem equally likely, which idea would lead to the character experiencing more growth or more actual challenge?

2. Do I like it? Honestly, the most important one for someone like me with ADHD. Because if I don't like it, it won't get written lol. If I like two ideas, but one of them is pulling me toward it with half written dialogue and full on scenes playing in my head, I know which one I'll pick every time.

What is your writing process like?

With all of the above said, my writing process is kind of all over the place. But a very, very rough outline, using one of the one-shots rotting in my drafts as an example...

First comes the idea. Ex: 'Tav and Astarion sparring early game'

Then comes a rough framework. Ex: you're sparring with a party member -> Astarion is watching, amused -> you convince him to spar you somehow -> sparring happens -> Astarion is impressed, intrigued

Then usually comes dialogue (though admittedly sometimes this comes first hah), because I like to build around the decisions they make. Ex: "Oh my dear, surely you can do better than that!" -> first thing I wrote for the fic. Kind of sets the mood, the tone.

Then I kind of write whichever scenes either need to be added to help me understand where the story is going or I add the scenes I want to write (knowing that's a dangerous game, since I might lose interest if all the fun is done upfront).

Once I'm done writing, I reread it once for typos, flow issues, inconsistencies and the like. If I read it too many times I start to overanalyze it, so I try to just release it into the world before that happens lol.

A few added steps that don't always happen:

If I get stuck on a scene: I read the sections leading up to it out loud, hoping my mouth will just fill in the rest (works out a lot of the time 😂)

If I don't like the way the dialogue sounds: I put on my best Astarion and Tav accents and act it out. Usually helps me figure it out or at least catch where it's snagging.

If I think something a character does just isn't making sense: 'ugh, that's ridiculous, why would you do that?' -> usually it means I either didn't set the scene up right, didn't give it enough background or context, or I'm not understanding the motivations enough-- all of which I need to go back and flesh out more.

If I don't like what I'm writing anymore: deadly for a brain like mine, really, but I've found ways around it pretty well. First, reread the fic! I usually want to know what happens next and my brain will kick back into high gear. Then listen to a song that evokes the feel I want from the fic. Sometimes I'll listen to it on repeat as I'm driving, doing dishes, playing a game. Like it's infusing into me lol. And if neither of those work, I try to give myself a challenge. Like, write a sentence and see if I can make it fit into the fic -- it doesn't actually need to go into the final version, but the challenge is what gets me up and going.

Anyway! That was a whole lot. I hope some of it was helpful, and most of it made sense hah. Again, thanks so much for the question anon! I love answering these ❤️

[batmansymbol]

I hope this isn't a weird or too random question (and if it is, feel free to ignore ofc!) but I was wondering if you had any advice for someone thinking of writing full-time? The obvious question is, of course, can one make a living from it even if they're not like Stephen King or GRR Martin or something? Do you have any tips from your experience that you would have found helpful when first starting out? <3

Hi, sweet anon! Not weird at all. I'm happy to chime in with some (long) thoughts.

Firstly, yes! Authors can make a full-time living from writing even if they're not GRRM &c. I know a number of full-timers, and some of them aren't even NYT bestsellers.

As a caveat, I know very little about the indie/self-publishing space, so the following is based on my experience in traditional publishing.

I spent around 2-3 years writing books full-time. I no longer do that, and don't plan to return to it unless I have a big commercial breakout. It was just a never-ending parade of financial stress. It's hard even to give "tips" because so much is out of your control -- but if you're considering trying to write full time, you should definitely know what you're signing up for.

Here's an average situation for a non-bestseller trying to full-time it:

Let's say you've published two books, and your third is on the way (awesome!). For your first two novels, you got advances of $40,000, but maybe they've only sold 15k copies apiece -- not enough to "earn out" your advance and start making new money. So, you're not making a cent off your older books. Probably won't for years.

Let's say your book 3 is supposed to publish in June 2025, and it sold for more than your last books: $75,000. Pretty good! Advances are usually divided into thirds these days: 1/3 on contract signing, 1/3 on delivery of the fully edited manuscript (D&A), and 1/3 on publication. So that makes a $50,000 salary this year, yes?

Kind of. Right off the bat, your agent gets 15%, so that would make a $42,500 salary. A little tighter, but still seems doable. Also, you need to make estimated tax payments to the IRS. So, let's ballpark your taxes at $7,000, state and federal, which you'll pay in installments throughout the year.

Contract negotiations take a few months as usual, and let's say in April, you get the first payment: your first $21,250. Nice.

Unfortunately, your editor's swamped, and 2 months go by before they send you edits. When you get the letter in June, you're like -- shit, this is a more extensive revision than I thought. You start rehauling the novel, but after your month-long deadline passes, it's still not right. You take another six weeks before you're happy. It's now September.

Suddenly money is very tight. You got $21,250 in April, but since then you've paid $5,250 in estimated taxes, and every month you pay $2,250 in rent, health insurance, and food. You were supposed to have your second payment already, because the contract's estimated D&A date said September. But you still need to do line edits. You now have $2,500 in the bank. You are very aware that this will last a little over a month.

Your editor gets back after a few weeks, having loved your revision, and has sent you line edits. Thank God she didn't want a second round of bigger edits. But it's now October. You rush through the line edits, turn them in after a single jam-packed week. You have $250 in the bank. Your D&A payment is now due.

A week goes by. Where is the payment? You email your agent. She badgers the publisher. They say the payment will be sent through in a pay run next week, so after agency processing, it'll be with you in early November.

You have $75 in the bank. You start putting everything on your credit cards. Then your utility company makes a direct withdrawal from your checking account. You wake up to an overdraft notice and zero dollars in your account. Holy shit, you think, why did I choose this career. November hits. You are late on rent. Maybe you should start drawing from your retirement account, which you put $5,000 into, one time, three years ago?

When your payment arrives, you're not happy so much as ready to cry with relief. You start paying off your cards and sending late, embarrassed Venmos to your friends. You can finally stop declining invites to hang out because you have no money.

And by then it's November, and you're realizing that you really need to be thinking about your next book. If you were working smart, you got a jump on it earlier in the year, when your editor was late with your edit letter. Let's say you wrote an entire first draft back then, between January and June. (Which, to be clear, IS fast for a novel, do not believe the ridiculous standards of writing speed you see online.) If you now take six months to mold that first draft into actual art, then send it to your agent next May, and she wants changes, and you submit in July, and it sells after an average couple months on submission, you won't get your next contract payment until January, 2026.

ARE YOU ANXIOUS YET?

The above scenario is ordinary. An editor having a delay on an edit letter for a month or two, or an author getting stuck and running over deadline for a month -- that stuff is barely worth commenting on.

And there are all sorts of other bumps in the road. Let's say the publisher has turnover in the contracts department. Immediately, that'll be a delay on your signing payment. I've waited 6 months for a contract payment before. I've waited months for a simple email reply from an editor because the company was going through layoffs.

Add more people into the process, and it gets slower. Are you working on IP, let's say a novelization of a TV property? That team might take months to get back to you even on your proposed outline. Working with a freelancer or cowriter? Add weeks or months to every step. In publishing, you spend half your life waiting. You know what doesn't wait? Rent, taxes, and health insurance.

Anon, this is the shoestring, desperate kind of full-time author existence. If you're doing a little better -- still midlist, but better -- you might have earned out one or more of your backlist titles. That means you'll get additional royalties twice a year, usually April and October. That will help.

Or maybe you're a super-fast writer who's always, always juggling multiple contracts and shooting drafts in and out of your door. That's a decent way to make a healthy living as a full-time author, but you'll need to complete multiple books a year, for sure.

This is why I have a survival job half the week that pays my rent. The stress is still there, but it's less frequent and less intense. Honestly, given my sales figures, which are (checks notes) bad, I'm lucky to get to keep doing this after five novels. Because the biggest looming threat is that if you don't break out, editors will start shutting the door immediately because of your lack of established audience.

The only really reliable way to pay your bills is to break out. Then if your editor leaves your publishing house, and you get reassigned, and that pads 3 months onto the editing process, or whatever, it doesn't matter. You'll have actual, substantial royalty payments twice a year. Your advances will always be over six figures. You can live a normal life where you're not staring into the murky distance, wondering when some payment is going to soar out of the night and into your terrible bank account.

Or ... you can just get a day job. And you will get paid biweekly, reliably, on SPECIFIC DATES!!!, forever. When I tell you this shit was life-changing for me. Good God.

Obviously the biggest problem in this whole post is the bit where I wrote "every month you pay $2,250 in rent, insurance, and food," and worried if I was, in fact, lowballing that amount. What a broken world!

Anyway. Best of luck with the writing, anon -- no matter what your experiences in or around the industry, I hope the work itself continues to feed your soul.

RR

[love-toxin]

ELLIE

Fruity four POKEMON AU

WHAT ARE THE TEAMS????

nyehe! <3 i shall bestow my humble input!

fruity four pokemon team au!

Eddie

Crobat

Eddie started raising it as a Zubat when he was young, after finding it wounded and collapsed in the mud and rain outside the trailer. He tried to release it so it could be free once it was healthy, but it stuck around and has since evolved into one of the strongest pokemon on his team. It loves Eddie to death and can be surprisingly clingy, but it becomes aggressive when it senses ill intent directed at its trainer. Despite being a bigger pokemon, it's the one that accompanies him out of its ball the most often, and it likes to sleep in his bed when he lets it since they always used to do so when they were both much smaller.

Aegislash

Eddie didn't so much choose this pokemon as it chose him. It just kind of floated up to him while he was out in the woods one day, and when he got jumped for his drugs a few minutes later it defended him, and allowed him to capture it and take it along after it had vanquished his enemies. It usually stays in its ball unless Eddie takes it out, but occasionally it will join in on his D&D sessions to act as a sword and shield when Eddie's performing as some grand NPC or BBEG. It generally has little presence otherwise however, and tends to creep out anyone he has over if he doesn't warn them about it first–it's scared his friends before who thought it was just a decoration hanging on the wall.

Obstagoon

It loves being onstage with Eddie and his other pokemon, and will belt out its explosive screeches to echo the guitar solos that Eddie shreds out. When Eddie's other pokemon get rowdy or out of control, or when there's a wild pokemon causing trouble, Obstagoon will skillfully taunt the troublemaker and draw it into a battle to calm it down. However, this also means that it's very likely to get into battles with both pokemon and humans if they go after its trainer, which usually results in Eddie having to call it back to keep it from getting him arrested. It's a great bodyguard for his shows, though, just by its appearance alone.

Toxtricity (low key)

It's one of the two pokemon that often join him onstage when he's performing, although Toxtricity plays more of a musical role as it strums the violet-coloured organs on its chest to let out bass-like riffs, along with violent sparks of electricity that make the performance look even more punk. It can be a little uppity since it's not a big fan of other pokemon, and it sometimes has trouble following commands when it's in a bad mood, so it gets into scuffles with his other pokemon more often than usual. But, like the rest of Eddie's team, it likes his music a lot–so as long as he practices the guitar for them and plays some tunes here and there, it can be lulled into listening to him again.

Hydreigon

Having a pokemon like Hydreigon around certainly doesn't help Eddie's reputation, since the species is considered a bad omen and the pokemon itself is often feared for its violent and evil nature, but that really couldn't be further from the truth in this case. Living with Eddie during his tumultuous upbringing has turned what was once a timid Deino into a very protective, gentle-hearted Hydreigon. It still remembers having to stay quiet and practice hiding to avoid the wrath of Eddie's dad alongside the boy, and now it sees itself as a protector of not just Eddie, but all of his friends and all of Hawkins. If Eddie disappears for a long time and it doesn't know where he is, it panics, and will start going on a destructive rampage until it finds him safe and sound.

Grimmsnarl

To be honest, Eddie caught an Impidimp just cause he thought it was cute–and it looked lonely, like it needed a friend, even though it swiped his wallet when he bent down to pet it and he had to go chasing after it to get it back. He had no idea it would grow to be such a strong, beastly pokemon, but Eddie thinks it's metal and he considers it a good friend. And Grimmsnarl is definitely the one who gets along best with the other three's pokemon and with the kids, it's more amiable to following the others around to help them out or keep an eye on them, whereas its fellow team members tend to stick to Eddie's side.

Nancy

Mimikyu

Nancy found it hiding under her bed when she came home one day, and repaired its disguise with her sewing needle when she realized it had been torn up by some other pokemon. Since then, it’s come back several times to bring her gifts, like little stones or flowers, until she eventually took it on to her team to join her. It often helps her find things she's lost or misplaced, and brings over her keys when she forgets them–but despite being very affectionate and helpful to its trainer, it's never one to shy away from putting the fear of god into anyone it thinks might hurt her.

Vileplume

Nancy spent a lot of time training this pokemon, mostly because poison types can be difficult to keep under control, and because it can be a bit unruly when it's hungry or bored. But because of that, her Vileplume is quite well-behaved and mimics Nancy's mannerisms a lot, and often is the pokemon she has by her side when she's out and about. It not only keeps her garden fresh and healthy being a grass type, but also uses its Sleep Powder to help her and the other three get a better rest when they have night terrors. It's all around a helpful pokemon to have, and definitely not one to shy away from battle, either.

Sylveon

Having grown it from an Eevee, Sylveon is the one that's been with her the longest and has become a therapy pokemon of sorts as Nancy's grown up. It's been there for breakups, for Barb, for bad marks on tests and nightmares that wake her up in cold sweat, and it likes to take her for walks with its ribbons wrapped around her hand to calm her down when she's stressed out. Though it has a sweet nature, it still hasn't quite forgiven Steve for that time he broke her heart, and it sometimes nips at him or smacks him with its ribbons if it thinks he's being mean to her. But on the flipside, it's totally obsessed with Eddie and loves grooming his hair when he comes home from work.

Octillery

It's an obvious choice for her, and besides evaluating its sniping techniques, she and her Octillery also help each other with practice by having shooting competitions out in the backyard. Even if she's going somewhere where the environment won't be ideal, or the pokemon will be strong against it, it never wants to be left behind and will pester her to come along until she eventually gives in. It can be a bit of a menace if left to its own devices as well, and will climb up to the ceiling and dangle there by its suction pads to drop on unsuspecting prey when they walk past–although, one time it did so to Eddie, and Nancy had to spend an hour prying its sticky limbs off the poor guy's hair.

Machoke

People sometimes make fun of her for having such a flashy, muscly pokemon, since Machoke is usually one that teenage boys always end up wanting to train just to show off and look more manly. But it truly likes helping Nancy and she likes having it around, because knowing that it can use strength that she can't match puts her at ease–if she ever needs protection, or if she needs to protect her loved ones, then it won't have to lie solely on her own shoulders. It loves to help her train on her own too, and will let her use it as a punching bag to test her strength while encouraging her with its cries, before they do their daily exercises together.

Bisharp

It's definitely the most brutal on her pokemon team, and she lets it spar with Machoke or Steve's Lucario so it can get out some aggression now and again. If ever she needs to get information out of somebody or just try to intimidate them, Bisharp is the pokemon that will be at her side, staring down whoever it is until they grow terrified enough to give in. While it has a bad habit of trying to command her other pokemon, it recognizes her as the leader of the pack and can't be swayed to listen to anyone else but her. It collects its own metal shavings when it sharpens its blades to gift to her as a token of loyalty, and once she finds the right place to do it, she gets them melted down and reshaped to add modifications to her guns, which is honestly the highest compliment she could give to it.

Steve

Lucario

Steve got it as a gift from his parents when it was a freshly-hatched Riolu, but because it can sense auras and he has a problem with managing his stress, they didn't get along at first and just frustrated each other–plus, it didn't like how selfish and vain Steve became as he went through adolescence, too. After a while of trying to appeal to his new pokemon, though, it warmed up to him and is now more than happy to battle for him in its evolved form. The pokeball it stays in will start rattling uncontrollably if it hears sounds of a scuffle from inside, and if Steve doesn't reassure it that nothing's wrong, it'll spring out and Force Palm the nearest person--which, in the situations when the danger is benign, has certainly gotten him into trouble more than once. Better safe than sorry though, right?

Blissey

It started following him around when it was still a Chansey, because it could sense his pain and was insistent on giving him its egg in the hopes that it would make him feel better. Even if he wanted to, Steve wouldn’t be able to get rid of it, but he really does love its company and feeling like there’s always someone thinking about him and wanting to care for him. If it senses that he's got one of those dreaded headaches coming on, Blissey will rush to Steve's aid and rattle him with cries until he lays down, so it can start soothing him with a Heal Pulse to help it abate. Despite being a docile pokemon, it occasionally will throw itself into a battle if it feels that Steve is helpless to defend himself, and as a last resort will use its Healing Wish move to expend the rest of its strength to support him.

Lurantis

Both Lopunny and Lurantis fawn over their trainer, but Lurantis is the shyer of the two. It's very clingy around him and will follow close behind when he's at home, bugging him to groom it and tend to its petals to keep them glossy and colourful as it likes. It can be a bit of a hassle since it's so high-maintenance, but it produces its sweet-smelling aromas in tandem with Blissey's healing to relieve his headaches when he does it, plus it always gets chittery and happy when Steve takes care of it--it even nuzzles his face whenever he's down, and sprouts pretty flowers from its arms to gather them up and gift to him to cheer him up. It'll do so when he wants to give a bouquet to someone too, but it'll pout if whoever it is handles them too roughly.

Rampardos

With the help of his other pokemon, Steve managed to calm it down from rampaging around town, and decided to start training it for protection. Being owned by a trainer doesn't mean it's totally domesticated, however–when it gets fixated on something, like a perceived enemy or an obstacle, Steve's often having to throw himself between his pokemon and whatever it's trying to bash to keep it from destroying something, and often he has to do damage control when it gets into the heat of battle in public places. With all that said, though, it likes Steve a lot and would never (intentionally) hurt him, and it's a fantastic player in pokemon battles when it's listening to his commands.

Lopunny

His friends think he's a mother hen, but they have no idea how much his Lopunny mother hens him. It uses the fur it sheds to stuff into his shirt or jacket when it's cold outside, but when he keeps trying to duck away or pulls it out, Lopunny ends up gifting the fur to Robin so she can fashion scarves or mitts for him to keep his pokemon satisfied. And while most Lopunny are pretty timid, Steve's has a penchant for fighting when it feels its trainer is being threatened–even if it's something as benign as someone being rude to him. It likes to fix his hair while Lurantis straightens his clothes before he goes out, so the two of them can make sure their trainer looks stunning when he leaves the house!

Galvantula

Steve ended up with this one latching on to him too, all because he found a few Joltik huddled outside in the cold and brought them into Family Video to warm them up, and the parent Galvantula followed inside to make sure he took care of its babies. Now that they're all on their own, it stuck to Steve's side and keeps him company while he's working. Plus, it sometimes zaps the tense muscles in his neck, or back, or arms with a weak jolt of electricity to help him loosen up, with the guidance of Blissey to make sure it doesn't paralyze him by accident. And all that's in exchange for letting it curl up in his lap and sleep every so often, when it wants to cuddle or when it's cold.

Robin

Smeargle

It was the first pokemon she ever really trained, although she knew right away that not only was she inept at battling, but that Smeargle really wasn't a fan of it either. So it mostly just keeps her company rather than trains, and the two of them like to spend long afternoons tending to their hobbies; Robin gives it canvases to paint whatever it pleases while she crafts little bracelets or jewelery for fun, with some music playing in the background as they entertain themselves. It likes getting her critiques on its paintings, and will get noticeably excited when she compliments it–and equally as eager when she suggests a change, usually scurrying off right away to rub out the mistake and try her method instead.

Cloyster

What was once a laughably bad gift from Steve of a weak, doofy-looking Shellder has since become one of the few chosen battlers on Robin's team, one that has no qualms about getting into fights even though its trainer gets a little antsy when she has to battle. It gets cranky if it doesn't get enough time in the water, so she usually has to run a bath for it or let it putz around under the shower once or twice a week, but since she takes good care of it it's a very difficult pokemon to take down in a battle. Cloyster will willingly go up against pokemon with huge type advantages against it, and even if it loses, it'll bring down a Blizzard or an Avalanche just before it faints just to wreak havoc on the trainer that thought battling Robin would be an easy win.

Vanilluxe

It was initially the assisting pokemon at Scoops Ahoy when she and Steve worked there, but after Starcourt went up in flames it had nowhere to go, so Robin took ownership of it. Although Steve thought it was a crazy idea to keep a delicate-looking ice type like that inside her home, it's proven to thoroughly enjoy being helpful even at the expense of its own comfort–instead of hiding away in its ball in the summer months, it chooses to busy itself with cooling down the house so its trainer and her friends will be comfortable in the blazing heat. Even in milder temperatures it's usually floating around the house, looking for something to do while waiting to be called on for help, to which it'll excitedly zip through the halls with wild abandon to tend to whatever needs doing.

Mienshao

One would think that a Mienshao would despise a trainer who doesn't enjoy battle training, but this particular one practically forced its way onto Robin's team. Not only does it like her temperament, but it actually quite enjoys training her other pokemon in her stead–and her, to an extent. Robin's pokemon can often be seen out of their pokeballs, training outside under the guide of Mienshao with Robin nowhere to be seen, and learning new techniques and moves that end up surprising her whenever she battles. And if it sees or senses Robin struggling with something, it's prone to busting out of its pokeball unannounced and calmly coming to help her, whether by eliminating the danger or guiding her towards the smartest path.

Spinda

Robin couldn't help but take it on and care for it when a friend needed to rehome it, although watching it stumble around and having to pick up the tapes it knocks off the shelves at work is certainly a stress-inducer. Even so, it's quite the curious pokemon and has an intuition that's seldom matched, so she can usually trust its judgement when it meets someone that gives off bad vibes or if she's looking for something she can't find, cause Spinda will almost always end up stumbling across it. The only time it doesn't totter around is when it sits in Robin's lap, which it loves to do because she always ends up cuddling it like a stuffed animal when she needs to relax.

Chandelure

It's the newest addition to her team, because she stumbled upon it in the decrepit old Creel house. Although it had seemed frightening at the time, it took a liking to her and she ended up taking it with her to rescue it from getting involved with all the creepy shit in that place. Since then it's only tried to drain her soul once and the others a couple times, but with her Mienshao's help she's been able to domesticate it into curbing its lethality, and turning that energy towards being a guard dog of sorts for her home. It's grown to love scaring off potential intruders and defending the outer grounds–but it loves scaring the shit out of the kids and the rest of the fruity four when they come to the door even more.

[niuniente]

Hi again Niu, it's the wee baby beginner tarot reader anon. I wanted to pop in to tell you I saw your thank you post, so your message definitely reached me :3

I'm so happy to hear that the reading was helpful! That was actually the first reading I've ever done for someone else. I saw your original post asking for a reading, I happened to have some free time and my deck was right there, so I thought maybe I could at least try and see what came out. I wasn't expecting much since I haven't been reading very long and I still feel like I'm a newbie a lot of the time, (I'm actually the same anon who asked you about alternate interpretations for the 5 of wands back in July when it kept coming out in readings I was doing for myself,) but I figured I should try because it would at least be good practice doing a reading on a different subject than I usually read about for myself.

I certainly wasn't expecting to hear that it was so accurate! That genuinely shocked me in the best way. I had a huge smile on my face all yesterday afternoon after I saw your post. I've mostly just been doing card a day draws every day for myself to learn the energy of each card across the different decks I have, and bigger spreads when I have a bit more time. But its been hard to objectively tell if I'm getting better at reading the cards when my only feedback so far has been going back through my tarot journal to check how accurate the readings I did for myself weeks or months ago turned out to be.

I have a history of struggling really hard with learning new skills and not getting any better at them even when I'm practising and practising consistently for long periods of time. I assumed it'd be the same with learning tarot and so I haven't had enough confidence as a reader to even offer to do readings for anyone I know irl. But something about your post made me really want to try and help if I could.

So I think Spirit was being a bit cheeky with the both of us and tossing us at each other when we both needed it. Because your message made me so happy and gave me the confirmation I didn't know that I needed that tarot is something I should keep going with and that I am actually getting better at it as I practice and maybe I shouldn't second-guess myself so much.

(Also, I wish you all the luck with your future spouse if that was him showing up as the chariot driver. That is such a cool bit of feedback to find out about that I really feel like I was picking up on without knowing specifically what it was!)

I am SO HAPPY to read this message of yours, and love that you've kept me updated like this about your tarot (and divination) journey <3

The Spirit definitely was a bit cheeky, but the Universe does have a great sense of humor :D

I'm super glad to also see that based on my last tip - see what's the image on the card and how is it - was so helpful to you that you were able to interpret the reading you did to me by underlining what you saw on the cards, and what they meant to you regarding my situation. And you caught up with that skill so quick!

Give yourself A BIG HUG! I will send you a spiritual hug; may it appear to you as a form of a sudden gift or good luck :3

[hades-least-favorite-asshole]

Maverick, at your service.

He/him - professional pain in the ass

— Hades kid —

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Personality

Maverick is over all calm, sarcastic, and would rather DIE than act like he cares. So what? Your mom’s dead? Join the club.

He gets nicer the closer you are to him, soon enough turning into the most nonchalant (as he can be) clingy man around. Walks? He can turn that into hang outs. Physical affection is harder to come by, it has to be a certain time, temperature, mood, ect.

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Appearance

With curly, brown, hair that shines aubrun in the sun and green eyes with a ring of blue on the outside like a creek, Maverick is conventionally attractive. A bump in his nose and full brows, (that knit often, who ever said he wasn’t easily annoyed?) he’s charming. Though acne does make its way on his forehead from time to time (still can’t fight it even though puberty has passed). His face mature, mirroring early 20s or late teens (18, 19,) his age is a bit unknown. Mostly because every time someone asks he gives a bullshit answer. Stubble along his jaw makes an appearance too—until he finds the time to shave. He’s around 5’9-5’11 with a skinny frame, lean, some muscle.

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Hobbies / skills

Art—mostly sketching. He’s a man with a busy schedule (when he’s not training he often sleeps) so he lacks time to finish a bigger art piece. He’ll sketch flowers, animals, weapons, he keeps away from drawing people though. Not wanting anyone to think he fancies them.

Spear! Got the Hephaestus kids to make him one when they owed him a favor for distracting Mr. D. He prefers it as according to him it “helps him balance, and it’s quicker than a sword.” Will we be fact checking that? No.

Reading/writing. He has bought a journal before he got to camp, now with its worn letter and back that he has stitched back up too many times, he writes in it often. Sketching in it, to-do lists, stupid things that happened, you name it! Reading goes along with this, if he has time he’ll sneak off and read, letting the parchment engulf him.

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Clothing / accessories

He’s very resourceful, stitching clothes over and over again. He has a lots of neutrals and muted colors, old sweaters, thrifted pants (one pair is mostly patches at this point), a couple jackets that fit snugly and comfortable to his body, that and 2 pairs of shoes—worn brown, work boots, and a pair of black converse -that have been through it all. His clothes are baggy and his tee’s often have bands on them (when he can sneak changing out of that HORRIBLE orange.) iconically, he has a brown leather jacket that he wears the second it gets cold, or, a carhartt jacket with “Marlboro” on the back.

He’s got funky doo-dads aswell, pocket knives with a carved, wooden, fish handle, a wallet that is made out of patches (it’s pretty cool looking, actually.), couple silver rings with bugs on them or another creature, beanies or hats (has a fish beanie that he is VERY proud of.) clips that go on his collar that are all silver, some from way-back before camp. There’s more nonsense too.

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Weakness (would say flaw too, but there’s too many)

Temperature. He can get really hot—too easy, often has a water on him and can usually power it out. But if it’s 90 degrees and you want to touch him? Absolutely not.

Hands. His hands are very shaky, he balances this out with his spear being weighted. Without that? It’s over for him, unless it’s a dagger or knife. They don’t matter to much, after all, he just stabs over and over again.

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Gender / sexuality / pronouns

—trans male

—doesn’t care about sexuality, prefers men.

—he/him or He/they, isn’t picky as long as it’s not she.

————————————-

Face claim:

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OOC:

I also go by he/him! Please respect that, thank you.

Dm me about any issues that you have with this! I don’t plan on linking my main unless necessary.

He speaks like so:

“Maverick, here. What’s good?”

[talenlee]

4e: The Vampire Sucks

Across all my writing about 4e D&D I’ve spent a lot of time espousing cool things that you can do as a player without really needing any input from a DM. The game design is robust and reliable enough that you can make things like a werewolf or a ghost-haunted pile of crystals and the game system handles it so the DM doesn’t have to make something specific for you so it worked.

I have mentioned the Vampire from time to time, but always with a drawn-in breath of ‘if you want?’ or something like that. A warning, a gentle one, but a warning nonetheless. The vampire, you see, for all that it is part of this game system I like and does something I like, doesn’t do it very well, and for that, it needs to be presented to players with a warning that hey: This could go wrong, right? You need to be prepared to be okay with that.

The Vampire is a Striker, introduced in Heroes of Shadow. It uses the sigh Shadow power source, and has the general structure of an Essentials striker. For those unfamiliar, the Essentials classes were an attempt to make 4e characters behave more like 3e characters. They had things like a reliance on basic attacks, with powers that triggered off that, and fewer (or none!) encounter attack powers. Daily powers still existed, and they usually had some very limited flavour in their design, like ‘sword knight, staff knight, mace knight’ as opposed to ‘knights can use melee weapons.’ Strikers made under this tended to be less powerful than other versions of themselves – the Ranger is an absolute beast and its cousin the Scout, by dint of simplifying how it works, is merely ‘pretty good.’

Essentials characters aren’t necessarily all bad. Sometimes they do a necessary job of stitching together different visions of a character that the game didn’t previously present well. I think the Cavalier is great, for example, when its main job is taking the Straladin and the Chaladin and putting them under the same overcoat. It’s not like being an Essentials character is inherently bad for a character option.

The problem the Vampire has isn’t even about its special mechanic for healing surges. See, the basic thing the Vampire has going on is that they have one healing surge. Period. They can gain more healing surges by slurping them out of people they attack or consenting teammates, and when they spend a healing surge they get twice as much healing out of it, but by default, vampires are always going to be looking at the world around them in terms of ‘what can I eat to stay alive.’ This mechanic, and the package of Miscellaneous Stuff along with it is pretty cool!

No, the problem of the Vampire is that you have almost no options for powers to take that let you do your job of beating people up, and the options you have are kinda blegh. Just as a comparison, for your at-will attack powers, a vampire is dealing 1d6 damage at a range of 5, while a sorcerer is dealing 1d10 damage at a range of 20. A monk, which is also an implement-driven melee character, gets the power Crane’s Wings, which is a better version of the Vampire Slam power, and Crane’s Wings brings a whole extra power along with it (letting you make a big ole jumperoo). And this is at level 1 where the Vampire’s powers are the closest to their striker compatriots.

I think the choice of turning the Vampire into a class is one of the best ones you can make for this kind of creature. There aren’t a lot of monsters like the Vampire that fit this sort of progression. A troll is a troll and even if a troll gets bigger and tougher and stronger over time, that’s just changes in qualities, it’s not new abilities. It’s just being big and tough. By comparison, Vampires have a wide breadth of fictional space to draw from but also make roughly equivalent sense with some common traits between them.

Vampires in general, feed on people. They don’t have life of their own to sustain themselves, making them parasites who feed on people. You could have your age-draining vampires, your flesh-eating vampires, your dracula style aloof blood drainers, your Legacy of Kain long distance straw-suckers, your Count Orlock gobble-feasters, but the important thing is the Vampire is a thing that feeds, and therefore, even if you use the Vampire to represent a different kind of Vampire to the Vampire I assume you mean with Vampire, it’ll still be pretty close to a Vampire that even the different types of Vampire will still feel Vampire enough.

Now the word ‘Vampire’ doesn’t make any sense does it, eh.

Vampires in myth can do a lot of things, and the Vampire as a character option, presents a way for a player to do that and pick through their own specific representation of it. It’s a thing that expands too, where at first you may kick off with a particular set of general things that feel Vampire-y but by the end of your career you’re standing tall with like, wolf minions and the ability to dominate people’s brains with a glance. It’s not only great to have Vampires as a class option, but honestly, I can’t think of any other monstrous player option that fits a class nearly as well as the Vampire could.

It’s a shame then that the Vampire is so breathtakingly weak. It’s a shame because it means that this isn’t a failure of concept that I think you can just throw in the trash and forget about but a much more painful failure of execution. Because the Vampire is made up of so many parts and they’re all a bit of a failure from the bottom up, the only way to solve it is to fix all the powers and feat support, and then to go through the powers that are present and add a bunch more to give the Vampire more ways to develop.

That sucks!

That sucks in particular because it’s so much work to bring a pretty interesting Striker idea up to say, the level of the Warlock. It’s not like the Vampire isn’t playable, after all, it can definitely do things! IIt’s just that the type of design it is has problems and the solution to those problems is a lot of work, and by that point you have a bespoke class design you need to introduce to each dungeon master and ask ‘please?’ and even then that’s assuming you (meaning me) get the balance right a second time around!

Ah, Essentials, you fucked up.

The post title wasn’t a pun, by the way, it’s just what sprang to mind when I started to write.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[yorprincess]

When the man at the door finally moved, entering the premises and shutting the door with a quiet click, Yor felt her shoulder ease and bit back a wince as the pain roiled through her once more. Slowly, she eased her arm back into the sling and breathed subtly through the pain. It wouldn't do to pass out in front of an ally, especially one still holding onto his gun like he was going to draw it at a second's notice.

But his voice caused her to tense once more. It didn't sound normal. Though why should it, she thought. He's a spy and hiding things about himself was par the course. After all, his attire - while showing off his tall frame - hardly gave away much. His hair and eyes were covered, his face was obscured by fabric, and he wore gloves and boots... all concealing the man underneath. She could probably identify his shoe size and height, but there was no way of knowing if those boots were a size bigger than he usually wore or if they were somehow internally platformed to give him extra centimeters of height. He towered over her and the Director and with the way he moved, he was probably deadly fast.

"Of course," McMahon began, releasing his weapon and holding out his arms in a gesture of peace. "You may call me the Director and this is my colleague Thorn Princess. We are members of Garden, and are hoping for your assistance if you are able to help us."

The world was starting to spin - probably a side effect of the adrenaline wearing off, the pain, and her forgetting to eat - and Yor felt her head droop slightly. Taking a steadying breath, she forced herself to walk towards the kitchen once more. McMahon nodded as she made her way to the entryway, though she didn't turn her back completely to Agent Twilight. There was a chair within line of sight of the door and she sat down in it with a quiet sigh. Rolling her good shoulder she adjusted the ice on her left to get a bit more relief while listening to McMahon explain what was going on.

"I'm not sure how in touch with the ongoing of the underworld you are, Agent, so I'll briefly explain. A mob kingpin has put a hit out on all Garden members, but the only one they have the physical description of, currently, is that of our Thorn Princess. A few weeks ago, there was a skirmish between Garden and this kingpin's forces, leaving many dead and her injured," McMahon's voice turned grave and Yor could feel his eyes on her. Slowly she lifted her head to meet his hidden eyes. She couldn't quite read his expression, but there was a sadness in his long face, reminding her of Bond when he pouted or the Basset Hound that the Forger Hound enjoyed playing with on occasion at the dog park. "She barely got out alive and still requires care. I have arranged for her to travel to a sanctuary, but since the enemy knows her face, we - my superior and I - are hesitant to move her. You were recommended by a contact of mine due to your expertise in disguise... if you are willing to assist of course. If not, the door is there and we'll find another way."

Yor couldn't help how her eyes blew wide at that last statement. Agent Twilight, a foreign spy, had seen their faces and McMahon was just... ready to let him go if he wasn't going to provide assistance?

IS HE OUT OF HIS DAMN MIND? Were things so dire that he was willing to risk their location getting leaked? Or did her director not think he would survive this encounter? After all, Agent Twilight's hand was still very much on his gun while he had discarded his weapon as a sign of peace.

"D-director!" She stammered, voice still hoarse, but clear.

"We can't lose you too, Thorn Princess," McMahon stated firmly, albeit sadly, though he hadn't moved from his spot near the door.

But that didn't make any damn sense at all. She was a foot soldier in this war. So why the hell was her life being prioritized? Being sent away to heal only made slightly more sense than just having her vanish into oblivion. She should be on the front line with her director and the other comrades-in-arms of Garden. And yet, here she was, wasting away because of an injury.

She would have argued the point if everything didn't hurt so much. Because when it came down to everything, McMahon was right. She wasn't able to do much in this state and desperately needed to recover before she could begin to think about lending her stilettos to the fray. And she needed to show a unified front with her Director. Maybe it would help convince this new potential ally to lend his expertise.

Slowly, she nodded. The sooner she recovered, the sooner she could fight and go home. Just like she wanted to.

She turned her gaze back to Agent Twilight, scrutinizing him with narrowed eyes. Her expression morphed into something more akin to Thorn Princess, leaving the broken Yor Forger behind. The spy before her wasn't a target, but he certainly could become a hindrance if he chose to betray them.

And waited for his answer.

The gun teased the outlines of his flesh, demanding for his grip to tighten on the metal handle as calloused palms tingled with a buried itch within its deep crevices, begging to get scratched.

His leftover ripples of self constraint fought against a tremor in his index finger. It cajoled him into finding the trigger, which wasn't far from his balled fist.

It called to him. Sang to him like a siren leading his index to extend lightly in a lazy daze, guided by an invisible force he was neither too aware of nor too eager to fight if he noticed it. He might have actually found a home on the trigger if it wasn't for his brain zapping a command down his hand to sheath it back on the handle.

What the hell did he to do her?

The ground underneath his feet felt unsteady. The only thing that kept the room from spinning was the weapon in his hand, its weight having somehow doubled for the purpose of maintaining his balance. In many ways it was the only thing that kept him back from howling at the director and whisking his wife home after putting a couple of bullets through his head and between his ribs for good measure.

Disguise be damned, his suspicions were proven true and he loathed every single thought that popped in his head with suggestions that made his skin crawl with tiny ants running amok beneath his skin.

If only he'd acted quicker! If only he'd found her faster! If only he- What the HELL did he do to YOR?!

Why was her arm in a sling? What other injuries did she have that he couldn't see? And did he want to know about them?

But not just that -

The light from her face - the very warmth he'd grown so accustomed and even fond of - had been snuffed out. Gone like the light of a candle. Leaving nothing but a cold, damp and dark sigh in the aftermath of a lost present that had become a memory too soon.

That wasn't his Yor, and yet, it was, without a doubt, her. He didn't know what it was, but it broke something within him and he wasn't sure how long his gun would stay locked at his hip.

His hand was shaking. Both of them did.

Thank goodness his mortification was hidden behind the mask and goggles. He stiffened when she called to him, but it was welcomed, because it snapped him out of his daze. Blinking eyes washed some of the red from his view as he tried to remember the reason why he was there.

Right. Answers. But did he want to bother with them at that point? The only reason why he was pointing his gun at McMahon was due to him having stepped so close to her with a gun mirrored at his hip. The only exception was that the safety was on and the grip on it was laxed. What did that mean...? Was it part of a ploy or was he an amateur? Whatever it was, Twilight was there as... Twilight. Blowing his cover might cost Loid Forger too much, too quickly. But Twilight could negotiate her freedom first before he decided on anything drastic.

His inhale was deep, but subtle, masked by the way he'd reached for the door to close it behind him as he stepped into the room. It darkened with the soft click of the knob. His eyes behind the goggles barely blinked, and it barely if ever left them. This might be a trap, but he couldn't make such a haste assumption just yet. (no matter how tempted he was)

Gloved hand dove in his pocket and out he fished a small piece of paper with the transcribed message in the old ostanian encryption. Fingers unfolded the paper and displayed the message that he raised at the level of his ear.

"Explain."

Twilight's voice thundered in a deep and distorted growl caused by a voice modifier he'd attached against his throat - an invention curtesy of Franky. An explanation of the message was important for WISE, but his intentions were far removed from the organization. Though he held the paper up with a clear hint that his request be honored on behalf of it, his order was a mercy in regards to the woman who's figure didn't waver from his sight.

[xyilous]

very not good mentally so self medicating with the comfort character of the month

didn’t really know how to start this so apologizes if the beginning is weird 💀💀

gn reader, can be platonic or romantic

cw for depression, poor mental health, intrusive thoughts (one mention of eating/food), suicide mention, depression room based off personal experience

if anyone tries to insult people with mental health or say it shouldn’t get that bad, you will be blocked

shit took me like 3 days

————————————

Ding dong!

A loud chime rippled through the house, letting you know someone was at your door. Everything already feels so heavy, there’s no energy left to converse with another being. It took so much will power to pry your exhausted body out of bed, the surround mess and clutter feeling like a mockery of your poor mental state. The steps felt so cold on the way to the front door but weren’t enough to clear the fog, there was a haze throughout the world that made it so hard to think, everything just moved in a blur. Once the doorknob met your palm, you paused for a moment in hopes of somehow willing away whoever chose to ring the doorbell. With a twist the door creeped its way open with a low groan, revealing an old friend, Corey.

There was a mutual bond between the two of you, back when you guys where younger he’d come to your house during the later hours of the night to vent about how his mom is relentless about controlling him. Recollections of the things she’d say were shared early in the morning, up until he had to run back home before she woke up. Some nights you’d share as well, talking about how your brain chose to torture you for the week or how you’ve noticed it’s getting harder to find joy in your favorite hobbies. After the accident, he learned just how debilitating depression can be and tried to be even more gentle with you when he picks up on you getting worse.

It took him a moment to look up from his phone, when he did he jumped a little bit, not expecting to see you since he didn’t hear the door open. He started with a big grin but once he took in your disheveled appearance his face softened, still smiling but with a sorrowful look to his eyes.

“Hey! You’ve not been as cheery lately, I came to check on you.” As he spoke, he turned the screen on his handheld device towards you, showing how your side would be short and flat, a strong contrast compared to your usual tone. Words didn’t come to you as fast as you’d hoped, the only thing you go out was a muttered apology before you drew back a little bit, trying to hide in your doorway.

“No no don’t be!! I was just worried about you, I know you can have your bad moments and I didn’t want you to feel stranded. Can i come in?”

The question made your stomach drop, quickly remembering all the mess that was strewn around your house’s floor and shelves. You felt embarrassed over it, hyper aware of the rotten bowls and plates of food that sat too long, the pile of dirty laundry sitting in the bathroom that was a bit bigger than you’d expect, especially considering showering has been too energy consuming.

“I don’t think you want to, it’s a disaster. Haven’t really been able to pick up and it,, it’s not great.” Corey’s face dropped a little more, slowly processing that you’ve been a bit worse than he thought. Your eyes were avoiding him like the plague, terrified of seeing him draw his face up and scowl at you for being unhygienic, but that was the last thing on his mind. A silence hung in the air, before his voice edged its way through.

“That’s ok, I’ll clean up for you, if it’d make you feel better. Might help to freshen up the place some.” He was calm, caring even. Finally being able to look his way, a welcoming smile taking place on his cheeks. It was nerve wracking, the help was practically needed but you should be able to clean your own house shouldn’t you? At the same time it felt so hard, simply taking a plate to the kitchen took so much effort, even if it was such a small task.

“I don’t know, you shouldn’t have to take care of a grown adult.”

“I don’t have to. I want to. I wouldn’t have offered if it was something I didn’t want to do.” Corey set his hand down on your shoulder, not paying any mind to your filthy shirt. His thumb rubbed on your shoulder, trying to reassure you that he doesn’t mind while not wanting to talk too much and overwhelm you. Once he got you to reluctantly agree, he gently ran his hand down your arm until it met your own and led you inside.

It took him a moment to figure out where he wanted to start, eventually choosing your main bedroom to get the worst of it over and done with. Grabbing a couple garbage bags and a bottle of water for each of you, the two of you made your way back up the flight of stairs.

It felt like ages, you had to fight the urge to turn him around and send him back home multiple times, scared that he’s eventually going to find you as disgusting as a rat in new york. It was scary, in movies or online it’s always the mild symptoms, you never see how bad it gets. And if you dare to show the severity of it? You’ll be shamed off the internet.

Having someone from outside see the chaos festering inside of your living area made you somehow feel even smaller, you practically folded in on yourself to try and hide in your own arms. It was humiliating, even if you knew Corey understood you could feel him get grossed out the more and more you stood there.

“Would you mind sitting in the chair for a bit? I’m gonna switch out your sheets and pop your blankets and pillowcases in the washer. I’ll take these dishes down there while I’m at it.” If he was grossed out he did his best to make it obvious. Some of those said dishes had unfinished food fusing to them, they weren’t meant to sit for so long but every time you told yourself you were gonna take them down there they’d sit for another day. Corey walked over to your dresser and pulled out a solid colored fitted sheet from the bottom drawer before turning back to your crumb coated bed. The old sheet came off with ease, the second one effortlessly replacing it.

“I’m sorry there’s so much, you really don’t have to do all this-“ He stood up from adjusting the final corner, ditching the grimey sheet into a slightly over flowing laundry basket in the room. The rest of the bedding was already in there, as well as whatever clothes sat in the floor.

“I insisted. I’m not gonna tell you I’ll clean just to make you do it.” Sympathetic eyes met your face, really taking in just how tired you look. Darkened eyes with matching bags underneath, knotted hair lazily splayed across your face, you look absolutely exhausted, and felt twice as bad. You shouldn’t be so drained, you’ve done nothing worth being drained, but you can’t help it no matter how hard you try. It’s always a battle in your head, but there’s times like these where all you can do is let the enemy attack because you’ve gotten so tired of fending it off. A barely noticeable frown was on his face as Corey took your appearance in, he felt bad that it got so bad and he didn’t step in sooner. In all honesty he wanted to, but he also wanted to give you any needed space. Growing up he never got the love he needed, after the accident with Jeremy he needed even more but never got it, in turn all he wants is to comfort and help other people so they maybe don’t feel as helpless as he did. He wants people to get the care the need, whether it’s a clean house or someone to simply be there. Another silence settled between the two of you, just a small moment to take what’s happening in. A growl coming from your stomach broke both of you out of your own heads, prompting Corey to open his mouth again.

“Have you eaten today?” You haven’t, it’s nearly 3 and you haven’t had a single thing to eat, not much to drink either (apart from a couple sips from the water Corey grabbed).

“I don’t think I have actually.” Although your stomach practically roared, no appetite was there. Sure you could eat, but you didn’t bother feeding yourself since you just didn’t feel hungry.

“Is there anything you want in particular? I can make anything that you ask for!! Can even order from a restaurant, I’ll pay.” Patient as ever, he stood there and listened intently to what you felt like you could stomach, making a mental note to get a little extra since you probably haven’t eaten much proper food lately. To kill some time, Corey disposed of bits of garbage in one of the bags he brought up and took the laundry and old dishes downstairs and to their respective areas. The crusty blankets were tossed into the washer so they’d be done as fast as possible and you could get to a clean bed. It didn’t take long for lunch to arrive, before making his way back up the steps he quickly thanked the delivery man and snagged the fast food. Probably not the most ideal meal, but it’s better than a single package of crackers.

Eating went by a lot easier with him, he acted a little goofier than usual and talked your head off, anything to keep your attention away from the misery that danced around in your head. Even going as far as acting out stories to make you laugh, he’d throw his arms out wide and puff his chest out to make him appear like some brave hero, he wanted you to feel better and was willing to be a complete fool to accomplish it. It was endearing to know someone cared that much for you. By the time his story was over, your food was gone apart from a couple fries. To an outsider that wouldn’t be abnormal, but as of late eating has been so taxing, it felt like 100 pound weights were strapped to your wrists and prevented you from taking more than a couple bites. Corey noticed as well, a proud look on his face as you ditched your wrappers into the garbage bag. He started picking up again as he finished off the last bites of his burger, since most of the bigger pieces of trash were disposed of he made his way into the hallway to fetch the vacuum from the storage closet.

“You wanna step out before I start this? I know that the sound can be a bit much.” The question wasn’t expected, it’s such a mundane task that people usually get upset if you show any discomfort for it, but he was concerned about something as simple as a loud noise making you uncomfortable.

“I think I’ll be ok, but thanks for asking.” Your words came out softer than you expected, almost airy. Receiving help feels so foreign, you tried to avoid accepting offers due to it feeling like a chore or burden to them, there’s been times where they would pity or even shame you for letting it get so bad. You didn’t mean to, you did your best but so often your best simply wasn’t enough.

Stepping on the pedal, the vacuum roared to life and Corey immediately got to getting little bits and pieces out of the floor. Slightly rushed, but still thorough to be sure all the crumbs are gone. Your hands covered your ears as your legs got pulled to your chest and out of the floor to allow him access under the chair. When the main floor was cleared, he adjusted the settings until the smaller tube on the side started started sucking as he kneeled to get along the edge of your bed frame. By the time everything was said and done, the washer dinged downstairs, signaling your bedding is now clean. The chime made you jump a little, both of you nearly forgetting Corey even started it. Grabbing the handle of the vacuum, he let you know he was going to switch your blankets to the dryer before he trekked down to the laundry room. In the short time he was gone, your thoughts turned sour. He said he wanted to help and he looked like he meant it, but what if it’s because he pitied you? What if he didn’t want to be around someone who would make his reputation even worse?? You wasted his money on food too, you didn’t need that. He was here because he knew you couldn’t even take care of your self. Yeah, that’s it. He didn’t want to be around a slob so he wanted to fix it-

“Are you alright??” You got so lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t even notice that he returned. All you could muster up was a half assed hum, hardly acknowledging that Corey anything. His worry was incredibly evident on his face, his eyebrows were twisted upwards with his lips ever so slightly agape. Not even 5 minutes passed while he was gone, but you looked so lifeless by the time he walked back through the doorway. Even after the initial shock wore off, concern was still etched into his features, it was the first time he’s seen you in weeks and now you look like an empty husk of your happy self.

Corey strode over to you carefully, as if you were a scared animal about to bolt, just to scoop you into his arms. It was tighter than either of you expected, one arm was wrapped around your back while the other’s hand held your head close to his warm chest. All of him enveloped you and held on as if you were going to fade away at any moment, even his head was pressed against your own, anything to keep you grounded.

It was startling, every part of you froze in place. Part of your mind screamed at you to pry your way out of his grip while the other side begged you to take as much as you could, to accept the comfort you so desperately sought after. Your arms moved slowly at first, so slow you weren’t sure you were even moving, creeping their way up his well worn sweater. When your body fully caught up to what was happening, you couldn’t stop your fingers from clawing at the the knot fabric and holding on for dear life. Everything was so much, your face starting to burn as your eyes began to water. This isn’t real, it can’t be, it’s not right. You’ve done nothing to deserve this but you want it so badly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His words were hushed, barely audible, if he wasn’t so close you wouldn’t have heard them. Mixed emotions laced his voice, sorrow and sympathy with a bit of fear laced in, he was overwhelmed with anxiety over your well-being and seeing you somehow drop even more made him get panic. Depression can be devastating, it’s claimed countless lives of people who just couldn’t fight it anymore, he didn’t want to hear about your untimely death in the news.

Your entire body tensed at the question, your brain froze up and refused to conjure up any form of a reply, not even a small noise to let him know you heard him. Fat tears stung your eyes, it was all so intense and so sudden that all you could do was stand there as they slipped down your cheeks. Both of you had a small shake to each of your hands, yours only getting worse as you clung to his shirt tighter and tighter. It hurt, beyond the lump in your throat and the growing headache you couldn’t fathom someone genuinely caring so much to ignore your unclean state and just hold you. No comments about your greasy skin or your week old sweatpants, no insults about how you can’t take care of yourself or let it get so bad. Corey was simply there for you, no strings attached.

Minutes passed, neither of you made an effort to move away until your shaking subdued and you stopped sniffling. He was the one to move back, just enough to have room to properly look at your flushed face, to ask about doing something to make you feel better.

“How about a movie? Since your stuff is still in the dryer we can crash downstairs. Your pick, it can even be horror if that’s what you want.” You’ve seen plenty of shows and series since you started losing interest in anything else, but it would be nice to watch something with someone.

“I’m so gross right now though. I’ve not showered in like a week, wouldn’t you want to wait a bit?” Avoiding eye contact for yet another time today, you admitted that you’ve not been keeping up with hygiene. You felt disgusting over it, it’s not like you meant to let it go but it was just so hard to find the energy to take the time to clean yourself.

“It doesn’t bother me, I know you didn’t do it on purpose. I’m willing to wait a little bit if you want to shower though.” You almost immediately decided to shower, wanting to get clean as soon as possible, especially after hugging him. Somehow you didn’t leave a grease stain on his sweater, as thankful as you are.

It took a little longer for you to shower, wanting to take a little extra time to ensure you cleaned the old grime off of your skin, by the time you finished it was nearing sunset, curse the fall for looking so beautiful yet cutting your days so short.

Corey was waiting downstairs with the throw blanket tugged from the back of the couch, a big bowl of fresh buttery popcorn sitting in his lap. The whole scene felt so inviting, the controller for the gaming console was resting in his hands, a glance to the tv screen showing that he’s already started exploring some streaming app. When he took notice of your presence, he held up one end of the blanket to welcome you next to him, making sure you both had ample cover. Somehow he broke through his awkwardness to go above and beyond to make you feel better, even just for a few hours. As clingy as mental illness could be, he managed to chip as much as he could from you with a limited skill set. It was agony watching someone he’s so close to struggle to keep themselves alive, as long as he could ease that burden he was going to try. In a sense he admired your ability to keep going, especially considering that your brain is trying with all it’s might to get you to cave in, he looked up to your strength for carrying on even with people looking down their noses at you.

After shuffling through through more categories and apps than you wanted to, you ended up settling on a somewhat outdated slasher film, it was an early 2000s remake that was trying so hard to be edgy that it ended up being a bit goofy, wasn’t the best but it was something to laugh at. As it passed you relaxed a bit, eventually readjusting to where you were wore or less splayed across Corey’s legs, he didn’t seem to mind, even holding up the blanket to keep you from getting yourself too tangled. Though slightly uncomfortable considering bones, it was nice to be able to just relax. Even if most of your time was spent wallowing around in your own dead skin cells, there was always that guilt following you around over not doing anything. This was different, that said guilt wasn’t screaming in your ears and telling you the worst things. It was quiet, you could listen to the movie and Corey’s quirky little rambles, there wasn’t near as much fog clouding all of your thoughts and it just felt so peaceful.

Eventually the film ended, another quickly coming on right after, but it wasn’t as easy to pay attention. Questions danced around in your head, it felt awkward to ask but you needed to know.

“Why did you help me? Wouldn’t have been better if you just,, did something else? Like go to a park or to some restaurant.” When there wasn’t an immediate response you tensed, immediately thinking you made a mistake and should’ve already been fine with what happened, but before you could tell him to ignore it he gave you what you wanted.

“Well, I was worried about you. And when I saw that you weren’t doing too hot I decided to help. I’ve known you for ages, if you broke your arm I wouldn’t just abandon you with it.”

“But I didn’t break my arm, a broken arm feels serious and is something that very obviously needs help.” By now you’ve turned to where you’re facing him halfway, the movie completely forgotten. Corey looked a bit confused, taking another moment to think out his words carefully before just spewing out something that you’ve already heard.

“Think about it this way, if you had a cold, runny nose and all, I still wouldn’t leave you to deal with it by yourself. Sure, you’re fully capable of recovering by yourself, but I’m not just gonna take your word for it and let you handle it the hard way. I can get your medicine for you and make you food that’ll help you recover.” As he spoke he rubbed your back reassuringly, trying to get you to understand.

“You’re sick, regardless of if you have or don’t have symptoms like a cough or upset stomach. You deserve help, even if it’s in your head.”

That’s new. Usually people bombard you with remarks about how it’s all in your head and that you’re making it up, either that or they’ll make it a huge over exaggerated sob story about how it’s so horrible. Yes, without a doubt it’s awful but the dramatization of it makes it feel like you’re feeding into it too much. You never hear it just be accepted like any other issue, especially if it’s treated like a genuine illness, even if it’s in the name. Growing up your mental illnesses were constantly dismissed, you were always written off as attention seeking or lazy, now that someone took it seriously you’re rendered speechless. You probably look like an ass, you’ve yet to respond, instead delving into your head to try and process what you’ve heard.

“Are you alright?” Those are the same words he asked you hours ago, this time lacking their frantic tone. You didn’t feel as frozen, just nodding as you continue to replay the words in your head, making sure that’s what he said.

“Thank you.” It wasn’t much, but it was all you could mutter out. Corey was appreciated, of course he was, but you didn’t know how to articulate what you were thinking. A sliver of you doubted him, fearing that he heard it in some video and he’s just repeating it, but you know him, you know how he is and you know that moments like these are genuine, even if his words were up-cycled movie quotes.

“Of course, I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” Okay mind reader.

“I care about you, I really do. Please, if it ever gets that bad again, call me, yeah? You don’t even have to, just get ahold of me somehow. I’m not going to let you just wither away on me.” Pulling you back down to him, his arms wrapped around you in a tight hug yet again, using the grip to punctuate his words.

“I’ll try to, no promises though.” That was all he needed, anything close to a yes would work for him. Even if the way you spoke showed your tiredness, you still had a resemblance of a grin on your cheeks to show your sincerity.

“When this wraps up I’ll make your bed and spend the night, how’s that sound?”

“If you insist, I won’t complain.”

————————————

[fluffykitteninabox]

The MHA anime is animated weirdly:

ok i just watched the new episode and i have come to a realisation

most of the "ugly" shots of characters are from the front, but the characters look perfectly fine from the side

no no don't leave, hear me out...

ugly

pretty

ugly

pretty

except these 2 shots that are the exact same angle so i don't know wtf happened here:

ugly

pretty

rambling under the cut

WARNING: SPOILERS, NITPICKING & EXCESSIVE USE OF ITALICS

Now this is very interesting to me because most artists (me included) struggle drawing characters from the side and find the front view easier.

And the specific angle that Tenko is shown from here is (for me at least) one of the hardest in general, because you have to show the way the body turns without making it look weird.

In the baby Tenko screenshot the way his shoulders are positioned and how his neck is turned is unclear and a bit confusing. Or at least I can't see it.

In the adult Tomura screenshot these parts are a lot clearer.

It's not just his face that looks weird, it's the entire thing. The face problem mostly has to do with the hair. They made it less... fluffy!

If you look at the original panel too his ear is supposed to be visible and his mouth is supposed to be bigger

but in the very next shot he looks amazing:

look at the details, you can even see how his little teeth are crooked!

Bones really half asses specific parts of episodes and puts extra effort in others..

and that's usually normal for an anime,

but there's no real logic to what scenes get the premium treatment and which don't.

Or, to be more accurate, which characters get the premium treatment and which ones don't.

Take for example this scene from the beginning of the episode:

So I'm ok with how they handled this scene for the most part. Zooming in on his lips with no sound.

cool cool cool..

You can literally read them btw, even though my gif is kind of bad. But it looks like he introduced himself using his first name first and then his last name. (waiting for someone good at analysing shit like this to find what the order is implying 👀)

Hawks' reaction was a bit disappointing however. I was expecting the eye widening to be more dramatic and..

you know... faster

Usually when you're shocked at something your eyes widen at a pace that's definitely faster than this.

I won't pretend I'm an animation expert but i think this has to do with the amount of frames they used.

I usually make gifs from screenshots instead of screen recording, because most screen recorders make my phone really slow. So I have to repeatedly start and pause the video to do that.

Obviously the amount of screenshots i manage to take depends on how fast my fingers are each time, so i might not get every single frame.

But even then the difference in number here seems odd

I managed to get 12 screenshots of Dabi moving his lips, and 17 of Hawks' reaction. And I also miss clicked once and lost about a second of Hawks so there would have been more.

The number might not sound like much, but it's weird when you look at it. Go look at the actual episode if you need to, it's more noticeable there.

Why do we need so many frames for Hawks to react to this??

This sounds like extreme nitpicking but I genuinely think it would have looked better with less frames. Yeah it's cool that it looks smooth but smooth is not always what you want.

He's shocked, this is supposed to look abrupt. It's especially odd when you look at how detailed his face is in that shot.

Why would they choose this part to get the smooth premium animation when that actively hindered the scene

and didn't choose something like... I don't know.. Dabi silently name dropping himself while we see an extreme close up of his lips???

YES I'M FUCKING BIASED BUT I AM OBJECTIVELY CORRECT IN THIS!!

Wouldn't it have been cooler if they had made him enunciate his name and we got to see that in hyper detail?

Because that's the actual important part of this scene. We should be focusing on Dabi, not Hawks' reaction to Dabi.

This is kind of similar to the issues in the Shirakumo reveal scene in season 5. We should have been focusing more on Shirakumo/Kurogiri but because Bones were cowards and didn't animate the Vigilantes flashback chapters, we had to focus on Aizawa instead because that's who the viewers were more emotionally attached to so we needed him as an audience stand in to tell us what we should feel!

I swear if they decide to focus on Endeavor's stupid as fuck reaction during Dabi's reveal instead of him I will lose my shit!!

Also I just realised why the close up shot of Dabi's mouth looks wrong. Scroll back up and look at the gif..

His teeth are too straight!

Apparently someone forgot that humans also have canines!! I mean sure, some people's are less prominent, but his teeth look like they've been drawn with a ruler!

Tumblr posting my drafts again so everything under this point is me editing the post really hastily:

not much else to say

just kind of a conclusion thing i guess

basically i think bones is focusing on the wrong parts of some scenes or focusing on the wrong scenes during an episode in general.

Like Dabi's anger at the beginning of the episode and the dream sequence in Tomura's mind should have been the focal points. That's where the premium animation treatment should have gone.

I appreciate the extra dramatic animation when Tomura wakes up, but that wasn't as important as the entirety of the dream.

Everything looked so static. Yes they had some debris floating around, but if you pay attention to the floating parts of buildings where the characters were standing, all the debris around that wasn't moving at all. It was like it was still attached to the building with invisible strings when it should have probably been moving away.

This is the same issue I had with Twice's clones in the previous episode. He's supposed to be replicating them while Hawks is getting rid of them, but all we see is a static image of a bunch of clones.

Anyway that's enough ranting I think

congratulations if you've read this far, and thank you for tolerating my annoying rambling..

[scribe-of-monsters]

HOW I MAKE MY COMIC PAGES

I figured I'd make a tutorial while I'm working on some comic pages, I've been wanting to do it for a while but I haven't had time so!

Step 1: thumbnails

I like to do a tiny practice sketch of the page before I draw it, to get the dialogue and the posing down. These don't need to be detailed at all, just basic poses and expressions. I usually do them on notecards.

Step 2: sketch

Next I get my actual paper and do rough pencils, it's basically just the thumbnails again but bigger. Usually I adjust any posing or formatting issues from the thumbnails (for example, I changed the positioning of the speech bubble in panel 4 and repositioned Pisces's arm in panel 3) , but it's mostly just the guidelines for the full page.

Step 3: pencil cleanups

This is basically just erasing sketch lines and drawing in smaller details, I usually combine this step with #2 or just skip it all together, but I figured I'd mention it anyway.

Step 4: inking

I usually ink the margins and words/speech bubbles at the same time, before inking anything else, because they go on top of all the other stuff. Then I go through and ink the characters and backgrounds. Inking is where I add in the last details (I added the webbing between Pisces's claws and the scales on Wilbur's shoulders here). When I'm finished with the inking I go through and correct any mistakes with a white pen (a gellyroll size 10 is what I use, although my markers do turn out a bit faded when layered on top of it).

Step 5: character flats

Flat colors usually take me the longest amount of time to get done. I break it up into two steps: character flats and background flats. I also go through and color in everything that is the same color in each panel all at once, mostly so that I don't end up using the wrong marker on something. The character flats are pretty straightforward; it's just coloring in your characters. I do this step before backgrounds because I know what colors to use for it & I usually pick background colors depending on what I think will clash the least with the characters.

Step 6: background flats

This step is where things get complicated, at least for me. As someone who doesn't draw backgrounds very often and colors them even less, I usually have no idea what colors to choose. I know some people design their settings separately before making the comic at all, and I think that's a good method, especially for important or recurring settings that need a more fleshed out design, but it was more work than I wanted to put into this comic so I opted to just wing it.

I ended up going with some paler tones that wouldn't distract from the characters. The purple in panel 5 is an effect I sometimes use to add contrast, to make the page look a bit more interesting (and also my yellow marker was running out of ink). It's a trick I usually use to show emotion or highlight an important panel, but this time I did it in order to spice up the composition because I felt like I was using the same color too much.

Step 7: background shading

I do this step just to get it out of the way, probably hands down my least favorite of the bunch. I'm not an expert at shading backgrounds by any means, especially undetailed ones. I usually just splotch color on there until it looks okay, which isn't professional at all but it goes fast.

Step 8: character shading

For shading on the characters, I use a slightly darker shade of each color around the edges. I also add in highlights in the shinier bits with a white pen. This step goes by pretty fast. I save it for last because I find it relaxing, it's a nice way to wind down after the whole thing.

Final

After that I go through and add in anything I missed, and then it's done (finally-). I think this page took me around two days, cutting out all the week-long breaks I took between steps.

But yea that's my comic making process! And I kinda enjoyed making this tutorial, I might do more of these in the future :D

[yoichichi]

How They Cuddle

karasuno x reader

warning(s): none ! :)

a/n: some sweet luv for the hq boys :) I’m planning on doing a part for the other fandoms I write for too - aot, bnha, & jjk - as well as the rest of the hq teams/characters - so keep an eye out if you’d like! And as always I love interacting w you guys :) feel free to leave comments/flood my inbox :D!

characters: daichi, asahi, sugawara, nishinoya, tanaka, yamaguchi, tsukishima, kageyama, hinata, yachi, & kiyoko

Daichi

He’s a hugger for sure! If you’re on your phone, or reading, or doing anything before bed he’s snuggling up behind you and resting his head on your shoulder to watch what you’re doing - he’s nosey like that. Anyways, being the big spoon is a very convenient cuddling position for that, and he gets to wrap you up and hold you close <3

Through the night though he slowly scoots down off his pillow in his sleep, so when you wake up his face is nuzzled into the middle of your upper back with his arms still squeezing around your midsection so tight you know you’d have to wake him up to get him to let go 😭 he’s also for sure a light snorer, but it’s ok he makes up for it by being cute or whtv 🙄

Asahi

Another spooner! He’s not particularly bias to being the big or little spoon but he just can’t face you 😭

There’s a few reasons: 1) it makes him freak out and it’s like he can feel your eyes on him even if they’re closed. He’ll be constantly peeking one eye open to look at your face and he’s half scared he’s gonna open them and you’re gonna be staring at him like 👁👁 LMAO

2) the breath on his face tickles too much and will eventually start to irritate him and he gets pouty cause it makes it tough to sleep

And 3) what if he’s making a weird face in his sleep and you wake up to see it 😭

So spooning for the win it is

Sugawara

I don’t think he’d be a big fan of being held, it makes him feel too claustrophobic and he’d feel kinda bad moving you off of him if he had to use the bathroom in the middle of the night :( I also think he tosses n turns a bit while sleeping so holding him wouldn’t be the best option anyways, however!

He likes touching/lightly intertwining legs - one reason is because you can kind of get away with it from any angle but still find a comfortable position that suits you, the other reason is because his feet get cold in the middle of the night and this is the easiest way to steal your warmth

Nishinoya

Ok ok, so I know it’s cliche - but I do think he’s a teensy bit too excited for bedtime cuddles! Not in a restless way, he’s just too excited with the act of actually cuddling you, like every time. Day cuddles are different! When the two of you have some alone time and he’s snuggled up with you on the couch, leaving a bunch of kisses (his favorite are Eskimo kisses), periodically grabbing your face so your lips pucker and leaving a dramatic kiss there after he talks about how cute you are (“oh my god you’re so adorable I could crush you ☹️🥺”), and then squeezing you so tight sometimes your back even cracks, it’s fine! You’re not trying to sleep so it’s just sweet Noya doting on you - but you can see how this would be a problem when y’all are tryna get some shut eye 😭

Solution: back to back, but touching so you can still feel each other’s closeness <3, bonus: every time Noya becomes aware your guys’ butts are touching he giggles and wiggles a little until you remind him it’s time to sleep 😭

Tanaka

Ok but he needs to have a hand on your ass and not even in a sexual way 😪🤚🏼 he just grabs on naturally or rests his hand there and sometimes lovingly pats it when he kisses your cheek before either going back to falling asleep or being on his phone or smth :)

He also loves burying his face in your neck, it just feels so soothing to him and he also finds your smell so relaxing and makes him feel all warm inside! Like when he sees you after a long day he loves wrapping you up in a big hug and leaving kisses in the crook of your neck and burying his face there cause he just missed you sm <3

Yamaguchi

Very much like Hinata he also adores being intertwined with you!! He finds it particularly comforting with your face buried in his chest or neck while he has his legs wrapped up with yours. He thinks it’s the best position to lean down and press a kiss to the top of your head (his favorite kind of sweet kiss), which he always does right before he feels himself drifting off to sleep.

He also likes rubbing your back/neck this way until you fall asleep, or while you talk about anything you wanna talk about. Waking up this way is also his favorite, and if you guys have moved in your sleep, you bet he’s pulling you back into a hug. He periodically squeezes you in his arms, leaves feather light kisses to your shoulder, runs his hands up and down your back, sure you probably won’t be asleep for much longer now with all this movement, but he just can’t help it with how sweet you look sleeping! Don’t worry though he’ll keep up the soothing while you wake up and talk about your dreams and what you want for breakfast :)!

Tsukishima

Not much of a cuddly guy throughout the day but when bedtime rolls around you bet your ass he’s expecting some kind of physical affection. His favorite is when he lays on his back with his arm out so you can nuzzle into his side, and once you’re all comfortable he wraps said arm around you to pull you in close.

Your favorite is when he runs his hand up and down your side or draws little designs with his fingers on any exposed skin. His favorite is when you bring your face up to rest in the crook of his neck or rest your head on his chest, any light kisses you leave or the breath that puffs out of you and hits his neck every now and then never fails to give him goosebumps and make him blush.

Kageyama

I don’t think he’s particularly ~stiff cuddling with you but I definitely think it’s not his forte when it comes to bed time! He just finds a comfortable spot - usually on his side or back - and that’s that! He’s found it and is gonna be out in approximately 2 minutes, but he does love feeling you in bed next to him :(

A good compromise he’s decided is reaching his hand out next to him him so he can hold onto your hand while he sleeps, or being the little spoon! It actually feels super comforting to him to feel you all cuddled up to his back and keeping him warm no matter if you’re bigger or smaller than him <3 he also loves the way he has to pry your arms off of him when he has to get up in those early mornings, or the way he feels your face squish up against his back sometimes, he just loves you.

Hinata

He definitely gets hot in his sleep but he love love loves cuddling with you, so you’ll always start off wrapped up in each other somehow. Usually face to face with your legs intertwined cause he thinks talking to each other about any and everything is a good way to wind down before bed - and I mean anything. Sometimes it’s just him asking you odd questions he’s been thinking about recently before one of you remembers you can google it

But no matter how you two fall asleep at first, you always wake up clinging onto his sprawled out body (probably because he’s kicked the blanket onto the floor and you got chilly in your sleep) or far away from him with all the blanket to yourself as he peacefully snores beside you <3

Yachi

Play with her hair and she’s KNOCKED 100%! She also loves either holding you or being held, but there’s got to be SOME kind of holding going on for her heart to feel full <333

She’s also the queen of surprise hugs from behind once you’ve been together for a fair bit and she feels more comfy being publicly affectionate with you! And if you do the same to her it never fails to make her smile or cover her face cause she’s blushing from surprise

“(Y/n)!! You startled me!” And now you have a very excited & giggly gf 😽😽

Kiyoko

I personally see her as a pretty religious back sleeper so the most ideal position is you in her side or you laying between her legs while she holds you and your head is resting on her chest. PERSONALLY she prefers the second one but she leaves it up to you <3

She just thinks it’s most ideal how she could reach down and trace her fingers lightly on the side of your face; or play with your hair if she’s able to; or rub your neck, back, and shoulders to ease any stress from your day. She’s a big giver of private affection and thinks it’s so cute when you’re so tuckered out you she wakes up with a little drool on her shirt. Not to mention your weight and warmth is super comforting to her ! And even if she wouldn’t admit it, she likes being able to use not wanting to move and wake you as an excuse to get 5 more minutes of you cuddling with her.

————————

Ahhhh hehehehe I hope you like and comments and all that jazz are always appreciated!! Big smooches :)

taglist: @plutowrites @sweet-darling91

[donutloverxo]

NSFW alphabet | Chris Evans

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

Note - This is written just for fun. I don't know Chris or what he likes lol. I also don't own the alphabet format.

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

Warnings - rpf, smut, daddy kink, d/s relationship, dom Chris, anal stuff, semi public sex, spanking, sex toys, praise kink.

Word count - 2.5k

A=Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Chris is clingy as fuck after sex. He’ll hold you close to his heart (you being the lil spoon of course) and not let go the entire night. With soft kisses on your face, hair and on any bruises he might have left on you. With some pillow talk about how his love for you can overwhelm him sometimes, that he can’t imagine not having you not that he gets to have a taste of you almost every night. Sometimes he likes to listen to you talk about your day, or share a deep secret you hadn’t told anyone else.

His clinginess is something you adore. Something which you would usually be fine with, how he just could not keep his hands off of you, but when you’re somewhere tropical and hot it becomes a bit of a problem.

You were visiting him while he was filming for red Sea diving resort, after seeing him in the beard and the longer hair you couldn’t help yourself and you just jumped on him. After some hot and sweaty sex, you had moved away from him a little, with your back to him you wiped the sheen off of your forehead with the back of your hand, trying to fan yourself with your own hand, ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he had growled. Not wanting even an inch of distance between the two of you. You tried to protest because you needed to cool off but eventually gave in.

B=Body Part (Their favorite body part)

Everyone knows the answer to this. He likes your ass the most. It doesn’t matter if it’s a flat ass or a thick one he’ll love it the same because it’s a part of you. He likes to smack it, he likes looking at it, he may even like to fuck it. Some stretch marks would just be the cherry on top.

His next favorite would have to be your hips. He loves to see their silhouette through your yoga pants or jeans, or even a dress. After a night of some rough fucking they usually bear his handprints which he loves obviously because it’s almost like he branded you as his own.

C=Cum (Anything to do with cum basically... I’m a disgusting person)

It’s always a battle with the two of you when it comes to cumming. Because Chris likes to see your body covered in his seed, particularly your face, ass and breasts, and you like to have him do it inside you, be it your pussy or your mouth.

Which he doesn’t mind obviously, he likes the idea of his spend being in your tummy, but he also likes taking pictures of your ass covered with his spunk. You just look so pretty when he comes on your face🥺

D=Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory)

Chris has fucked you in more bathrooms than you can remember. It’s become a thing or almost a ritual now. Whenever he takes you to an event or a party, or just a casual dinner at his family or friends house, you’ll end up on your knees in the bathroom with his dick in your mouth, or he’ll worship you and eat you out till you literally can’t even walk straight.

It started when you accompanied him to an important event, he was extremely anxious. And you felt helpless because you didn’t know how to make him feel better. But you did know one thing that always lifts his mood up. So you dragged him to the men’s room and sucked him off. He was much relaxed the rest for the evening thanks to you.

E= Experience (How experienced are they?)

VERY. He’s extremely experienced. He has a lot of knowledge and puts it to good use on you. Which can be a little daunting if you’re more on the inexperienced side but don’t ne afraid. He’ll train you really well, you just have to be a good girl and listen.

F= Favorite Position

His favorite position would be doggy style. Where he’s doing from behind, with you on your hands and knees, or with your head down and ass perched up to him because you never can stay up right when he’s doing you so well. He has full access to your ass, if you’re okay with it he would use his fingers on you, spank your ass. He loves to grab your hips or your ass and your breasts.

He’s also a huge fan of missionary. Because he can’t see your pretty face, or look into your eyes from behind. Most days he wants intimacy and to show you how much he loves you.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

Depends on his mood. Sometimes he’s a bit goofy, like talking in a comically exaggerated Boston accent when you told him you liked the sound of his voice and how his accent becomes more prominent when he is horny.

But most of the times, he’s in control. He has to maintain some composure so you wouldn’t question who’s really in charge or think that you could get away with anything. Because you know how to make him laugh, and if he let’s you do that he couldn’t keep a straight face while punishing you.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Chris has dark Brown pubic hair, like that of his beard and the hair on his head.

Does anyone remember that term ‘manscaping'? Where dudes trim their pubic hair to make their dicks look bigger. Chris definitely does that. Although he doesn’t need to because like if he got any bigger he might split you in two.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

Doesn’t matter if you’re making love, or fucking hard it will always be intimate and loving with Chris in one way or another.

If you feel needy, and like you want him to show you how much he loves you, you just have to sit on his lap, bat your lashes at him, show him your puppy eyes, and hump his leg a little. He’d get the sign and take you to bed, slowly dragging his cock in and out of you, drawing it out for the both of you, his fingers laced with yours, pinned above your head. He’d feast on your breasts and nipples the whole time just so you could feel his love and need for days.

If you’re feeling particularly frisky, or in a mood to piss him off just so he could be rough with you without you having to ask, you can just give him attitude or roll your eyes a lot. He’ll spank your ass raw, or edge you for hours, or make you climax till it literally hurts, depends on his mood really, to teach you some manners. But since you like the punishment you never learn.

Even while he’s got you over his knee, you not wearing anything but the diamond necklace he gave you, your cheeks wet from crying for the past fifteen minutes, your ass on fire but you still had to take more from him. He tsked, reprimanding you for ruining his expensive dress pants with your slick, playing with your intimate lips, he’d say while stroking your head, “It’s okay, baby, daddy still loves you. Even when you get on my nerves.”

Even while fucking you like he hated you, he made you felt loved and as if you were the most precious person in the world.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

When you started dating, Chris would often masturbate to the thought of you. But when you started sleeping together he never felt the need to, and you asked him not to do it anymore because you didn’t want him wasting his cummies.

Which might’ve been a huge mistake in hindsight because you revealed a weakness of yours. Now when he REALLY wants to punish you, he’d just tie you up jerk off his cock right before your eyes, “See this, sweetheart? I could be fucking your sweet pussy right now, and making you feel good too, but you had go and be a bad girl.” He’d come all over your face or breasts, and would of course make you come too if he feels you’ve learned your lesson.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Chris has a huge daddy kink. He doesn’t just like the title, he likes everything that comes along with it.

He likes that he has to take care of you, in and outside if the bedroom, being a daddy is a 24/7 job, he has to be considerate to you and grateful for all the trust and love you give him.

He also really likes pinning you down. Whether it be during play wrestling or during sex, it makes him feel strong, and it drives you crazy, absolutely feral for him.

L=Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Yeah you’ve had your share of sneaking off to do it during events but his favorite place to do it would be in the privacy of his own home, preferably his bed so that your dog won’t walk in on you.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

If you simply say, “Screw me.” That would probably be more than enough to turn him on and fulfil your request.

But what grinds his gears is seeing you in tight clothing, or the kind of clothes that would show off your assets. If you’re a good mom to dodger, if you show an interest in the things he likes or do anything that would make his heart flutter and make him fall more in love with you.

N= NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He would never have proper public sex because that would probably interfere with his public image and work. Other than that he’s pretty open to most things.

He also wouldn’t like to invite anyone else to your bedroom or to share you. It is a nice fantasy for him but way too risky.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He likes both giving and receiving equally. He likes having you on your back where he can see your face while he explores your intimate walls with his tongue, but he also likes to have you ride his face. You were apprehensive to at first, but with some convincing you agreed.

Sixtynine is another one of his favorites. He never actually had to ask for it. You were sitting on his face, holding onto his stomach and screaming when you felt your orgasm approaching, he pushed your head just a little, you got the hint, and started working on his cock, which was painfully hard.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.)

It would usually depend on what kinda day it is and how you’re both feeling. But most of the time he is usually slow but at the same time rough. Where his thrusts are drawn out but also impactful.

Q= Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Chris loves quickies. Bending you over the kitchen counter, a quick session in the afternoon on the couch when things got a little too heated while cuddling, in his trailor while he’s on a break, in the shower where he can make you dirty before cleaning you up. You made it.

But he wouldn’t prefer them over proper sex ever. Usually he likes to take his time with you.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc)

He’s game to experiment to a certain extent. Even if he’s skeptical about something he’d keep an open mind and give it a shot for you.

S= Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

He’s a fit and motivated man so he can last for a long time and go for many rounds. It’s more likely for you to be tired and tapped out than for him.

If it was a long day on set, and if he’s a little exhausted then he may not be able to go more than once. But will make up for it when he can.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

You both own a variety of butt plugs and vibrators, silky ties, blindfolds, handcuffs that Chris likes to use on you. You even bought a ball gag asking him to put it on you, which was the only time you ever used it because Chris liked to hear your voice and for you to call him daddy or say his name. You couldn’t do it with your mouth full.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Chris teases you a lot, but he would be a MASSIVE tease if he was a little more patient. He knows the effect he has on you. How you can’t take your eyes off him when he wears a t-shirt that’s a bit too tight and shows off his arms, how you can’t help but grab his butt sometimes and feel him up. When you bite your lip or look away when he catches you staring. If you get caught, be prepared because he will only do it more just to egg you on.

His touches a bit too light, he’d bring you to the edge and leave you just there. But fortunately it won’t last long because usually he’s the one who ends up getting riled up.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s loud alright. And he isn’t ashamed of it. He would never try to hide how good you make him feel, or miss an opportunity to call you a good girl and praise your gorgeous body. There will be lots of grunting and groaning and moaning and you revel in every second of it.

X = X-Ray (Let s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He’s pretty big. Much bigger than average. He looked pretty average when he wasn’t hard, you let that fool you into thinking you could take him pretty easily, he wasn’t that much bigger than anyone else you’d had sex with right?

Your eyes almost popped out of your head when you saw him hard, his dick hard and thick and a blush pink, two thick running on the sides of it.

He assured you that he would make it fit and that you had nothing to be worried about.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It’s pretty high. Higher than most people at least. You call him your horndog, but like in a nice way, because he always wants it. Even if you spent an entire night screaming his name and being used and stretched in ways that made your pussy as well as your body sore, he would still ask for more the very next morning. He’d respect you if you say no and back off immediately but he’s up for it whenever you want.

ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If he has things on his mind, and if you fall asleep sooner than usual then he’d be up a while. But most of the times he falls asleep quickly after.

[lebenspurpur]

hi!! i love your blog! could you do an nsfw alphabet for amanda young, please??

Thank you :>

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Amanda really has to grow used to take care of someone. She's been alone for a long time and therefore didn't have a lot of aftercare to do.

She's surprisingly good at being tender and caring. That's an even bigger astonishment for herself, after all, she thinks she's this evil, bad person.

She's very good at stitching people up so when something gets out of hand (or it doesn't and you're just hardcore), she's going to treat you fast and efficiently.

If you've earned her trust, she also won't say no to cuddling afterward. Amanda finds a lot of peace in your warm body pressed against hers, arms enveloping you tightly.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Her favorite body part on her own body are her arms. Amanda is surprisingly strong and it comes to good use when she's trying to please you.

Her favorite body part on you is your mouth. The acts of pleasure your lips and tongue are capable of are endless and Amanda loves it.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Amanda loves when you come on her tongue. There's something very pleasing about it to her.

Otherwise, she doesn't think about cum all that much. It's a normal thing, something that she doesn't really think about.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

This shouldn't really be a surprise but Amanda has her own "traps" for sex. She won't talk about them unless she has to punish you.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Amanda has experience but her past lovers weren't really good lovers. Therefore, her idea of sex is not the best so the first time you two hook up, she's quite astonished herself.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

She likes when you're on top of her, hands on either side of your hips as she admires your body in its glory. It doesn't matter if she's sitting up or not either, she just likes the feeling of you on top of her.

But really, anything will do as long as she has a little bit of control.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Amanda is usually serious but she can be quite sarcastic.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

She doesn't have time to shave. And before she met you, she didn't even have a reason.

Amanda doesn't have a lot of body hair but it's quite thick.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Amanda is a little bit scared of intimacy and romance. Until now, those feelings only hurt her.

As soon as she trusts you, sex is one of her more intimate moments. She likes to whisper praises, I love you's, and other sweet things into your ear during your orgasm. A reminder of her feelings.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Amanda only really masturbates when it's absolutely necessary and she has time to do it. So not really often.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Bondage, overstimulation, and sensory deprivation are some of her favorites.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the "do")

Everywhere except any place, John could come in. Which aren't a lot considering that man is on the brink of death.

The bed will always be her number one but really, get her horny and she'll take you wherever you're standing.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Little sweet actions. Holding her hand. Kissing her palms. Complimenting her. Buying a gift for her.

Amanda is touch and affection starved and she gets riled up when she receives any.

Also, wearing revealing clothing can do the trick.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Amanda hates, and I mean loathes, not having any control. Nothing makes her panic more, even if she trusts you.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Amanda loves receiving as much as giving. She doesn't have a preference at all.

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Amanda usually likes rough, longer sessions that leave you tired and bruised.

When she's emotional, one sensual round is also enough to please her.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Amanda loves quickies, due to her relatively busy schedule. She always makes time for some, if you're down for it.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Amanda is all for risks, but only if you respect her absolute no's.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Amanda, though a former drug addict, has some stamina. She might not be able to go forever but it's enough to make you beg for her to stop.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Amanda owns a shit ton of sex toys of every kind. It's like she's collecting them.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Amanda is quite unfair. Teasing you makes her feel really dominant and also proud that she's the one in control.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Amanda is more on the quiet side but as soon as she lets down her guard, she moans shamelessly.

Otherwise, she talks a lot. Praising, cursing, she'll never shut up.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Amanda likes biting until she draws blood. Or until you draw blood. She doesn't care who bites whom.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture, or words)

TW Body image, scars, and all that shit

Amanda is pretty muscular. She might not look like it but that's because her muscles come from hard work, not hours of workouts.

She's pretty skinny due to not eating a lot. You can definitely see her ribs shine beneath her pale skin.

Very beautiful breasts, I imagine. Kind of small but with pretty, dark nipples.

Skinny, pale legs, painted with scars. Her labia is a dark red that looks very aesthetically pleasing compared to her white skin.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Amanda's sex drive is a little bit higher than average. It also really depends on her schedule and whether she has time or not.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Amanda takes a while to fall asleep. Calming down is something she struggles with so she prefers to cuddle, admire your sleeping body, before she rests herself.