#and they get inspired and become inspired to be better

[honey-on-your-tongue]

heyyy I was wondering if you could do pornstar! Logan x pornstar! reader, where they're doing a scene together and Logan's being a little more gentle with her and cooing at her and calling her sweet things because she's so blissed out by him fucking her so good. (the reader hasn't been fucked that good in a while) and it ends with them going out or becoming fwb idk.

this is prob the most explicit I've requested so I totally understand if you don't wanna do it, also feel free to take your time thxx

Omg I LOVED this idea!!! I was so inspired ughhh I want this man so baaaad

You have the perfect performance. Perfectly practiced moans, perfectly practiced expressions. You've got it all down, from the curl of your toes to the elegant arch of your back and the tilt of your head against the pillows.

You expect this new shoot to go the same. The usual age-gap thing, you innocent-looking vixen all-too-willing to let an older man fuck you.

You've never filmed with Logan before, but you've seen him around. And you've seen some of his videos.

At least he's hot and well endowed, you think as the sex scene comes up. The makeup artist fixes your makeup some and then you're sent to lie on the bed.

You can feel Logan's eyes on you as you position yourself on the bed. You glance over at him and he gives you a small grin, as if he knows something you don't.

At first, you're expecting the usual. Men that just fuck you like you're a toy and not caring for your pleasure.

But the moment Logan's hands are on you, you can tell it's going to be different.

His fingers trace your body like he's exploring precious, untouched terrain. Like he sees you.

The way he touches you and the way he looks at you like you're some precious thing has you plenty worked up.

His hand moves between your thighs, his breathing heavy. His fingers spread your folds and he groans, leaning down to lick at your entrance.

You shudder, a small gasp leaving you. You're shocked, amazed, exhilarated. Something about this is different—something about him is different.

You actually enjoy yourself. You don't have to fake anything. Every moan that leaves your lips is coerced by him and his talented tongue and fingers.

By the time the scene moves on to the actual sex, you're soaked and ready for him. And more than that, you're eager.

Logan holds your gaze as he slips his hard cock into you slowly. You gasp, he grunts.

“Fuck. So tight,” he says lowly as he starts thrusting.

He gives slow, long, deep strokes that almost feel like torture. He lets you feel every fucking inch of him with each thrust.

It feels so good that you almost forget about the cameras and the microphones and the crew that's recording and watching.

It feels so good that you allow yourself to get lost in the moment and you just feel it all.

You're moaning, hands grabbing onto his shoulders with a fierce grip as you try your best to remember the script. But no, you're too out of it. So Logan takes over.

“Yeah, baby, I know.” He chuckles as he grabs your leg and wraps it around his waist so he can fuck you deeper. “I know you like my cock in you, you ain't gotta say it.”

You whine, nails digging into his skin. “Fuck!” you squeal, words barely understandable through the mewls of ecstasy you let out.

“Such a good girl, hm? So obedient f’r me.”

You gasp, body trembling.

He smirks. “Can you say my name f’r me, darling? Hm?”

You mumble incoherently, remembering your lines from somewhere deep in your mind. You just can't say them. Literally. He's fucking you dumb.

“C'mon, baby, you can do better than that,” Logan taunts, kissing your neck. “Do better.”

You whimper, gasping, struggling to say the simple word you know he's wanting to hear.

He grabs your leg and moves it from around his waist to rest on his shoulder. He stops fucking you and lets you catch your breath. “Say it, bub.”

You meet his gaze through half-lidded eyes and say, “Daddy.” You're surprised at how hoarse your voice is. How long has he been fucking you for? It feels like it'll never be enough.

“Atta girl.” He grins, his cock twitching in you when he takes in the expression on your face. He starts fucking you again, harder and deeper this time, with more intention.

You're gasping, moaning, blubbering. And Logan fucks you harder.

You can feel that tight coil in your womb as the pleasure grows and spreads and threatens to take you over.

One of Logan's enormous hands comes down on top of your womb and he presses down. “I'm right in here. Can you feel me? Can you feel my cock so deep in this pretty cunt of yours?”

And that's it. That's all it takes for you to come on his cock. Your mind goes blank and you see stars.

Fuck the elegant arch of your back and the carefully practiced curl of your toes. Fuck the expressions you're supposed to make. You lose it. Your orgasm is messy and needy and intense and raw, and you love it.

By the time you come back to, Logan's already pulled out and come on your thighs, as per the script. He's already put on his robe and is drinking some water.

You sit up, body sore and exhausted, and the assistants are quick to help you into your robe and hand you some water.

You're still trying to get your bearings when Logan walks over to you. He smiles down at you as you sit on the edge of the bed and he holds out a piece of paper.

You take it. It has his number on it.

“’f you ever want a proper fuck again, bub, just call me up.”

---

Blog masterlist

[just-a-ghost00]

Have you already met your potential future spouse?

In this reading, we will attempt to know whether you met a person that has the highest potential of being your spouse and get details that will help you identify them. Now, because a person has the potential of being your spouse doesn’t mean that they will 100% be. As humans, we always have free will and our energies are frequently changing so even if someone has the potential of being your spouse you may end up going your own way for different reasons. The theme for this reading will be BIGBANG songs.

Group 1 💥

Ace of pentacles, 8 of swords, King of wands, Queen of cups, White Numen, The Star

As we have a majority of upright cards and positive cards, the answer is a YES. Your meeting with this person may be relatively recent. You and this person are very different from one another, which sometimes may generate tensions and misunderstandings between the two of you. As of now, I am getting that there isn't much going on with this person, as you both are focused on your own obligations and needs. You don't necessarily hold any grudges toward each other it's just that your connection with each other isn't your priority at this moment in time. If you may have been close to this person in a recent past, things have cooled down a little. I am getting a message that you could have met this person because of your work or their work and/or through social media. This is someone that is likely to live at a significant distance from you. There are two people represented here which I will call person A and person B. You may resonate with both descriptions or one more than the other. I will let you figure out what your energy is so that you can now who this person is.

Person A is represented by the King of wands. A is very driven and quite stubborn. They are known in life as someone that is always looking at the future and keeping themselves busy. They like to be challenged and are quite competitive. They can also be passionate and charismatic. A appears as an extrovert in most people's eyes and someone quite succesful. They tend to be bold in public and show the exemple. While A is looking at the future, they make sure that they don't turn a blind eye on their past and they used it as a source of inspiration to become a better person. A is wise and a natural born leader and may have an occupation that puts them in a position of authority quite often. They are independant and creative, they always find the words to motivate and inspire others, and have this image of someone that never backs down, never gives up. A is mostly driven by their gut, however they are not without intuition and can sometimes rely on it to make a decision. They come off as very masculine. They can be quite flirty and sociable. Most people tend to like them because of their natural charm.

Person B is represented by the Queen of cups. They are highly intuitive and sensitive, compassionate, empathetic. They are mostly driven by their heart. A is most known as someone that is generous and kind, a good listener and advisor. Most people would tell you that A is adorable and that they have a soothing presence that immediately makes them feel at home. They come off as very feminine compared to A. B wears their heart on their sleeve. Emotion is their element. They excel at expressing and understanding them and may often times help others figure out their own. B is likely to have a position that allows them to guide and nuture people. They are also quite the romantic. When they love someone, they love them wholeheartedly. It takes a lot for them to despise someone. They are very genuine and sometimes naive. They have a doe personality and are perceived as an introvert by most people. Even if they take most decisions from an emotional standpoint, they are able to use the power of their mind to swiftly navigate through shallow waters. B can be quite persuasive when they want to and tends to see through people, which may set A off. When I was writing this paragraph, I kept confusing B and A, which tells me that both of them happen to mirrori each other a lot, especially when in contact with each other. If A and B were complete opposites at first, upon meeting, it feels like their personality and energies merged.

With the combination of White Numen and the Star, I'm getting a message of your meeting being divinely orchestrated, if that is something you believe in. But other than that, you may just both feel like meeting each other happened at the perfect timing. Both of you are very faithful and spiritual but again there are slight differences. One may be more of the "I create my destiny" type and the other may be the "I don't chase I attract" type. Because the White Numen depicts a bull charging ahead whereas the Star depicts a feminine character sitting by a body of water. Both cards are looking in different directions which again gives me the impression that your paths are currently taking different turns. You may be in separation with this person at the moment but both of you are connected through your spirituality, your trust in yourself and each other. It's like you both have this inner knowing that you'll meet again later on but for now you have other matters to focus on. In terms of zodiac signs I am getting Leo, Taurus, Scorpio, Aquarius. So major fixed sign energy. Which could also be confirming the fact nothing much is going on in the 3D currently. One of you may have eye sight issues. One of you might be French or likes France. I was also picking up on Asian countries. I am also getting the message that in the 5D things are aligning between the two of you because they were out of balance before. This alignment is being monitored by your respective guides. Which may result in either one or both of you to feel a bit weird, wishy washy or like you're not completely fine but not okay either. You may be having mood swings or periods of time where you feel super motivated and others where you're just not feeling it.

Group 2 ✨

Knight of swords, Empress, The Star, Black Numen, page of pentacles, Queen of wands

As the majority of the cards are upright and positive ones, the answer is likely to be a yes. However, looking at the cards I got the feeling of a "not yet". So maybe you're about to meet this person. I'm getting the message that you are aware of this person in the 5D. You are already picking up on their energy and getting closer to them. Your meeting may be delayed by the fact that one of you is ahead of the other on their journey. Like maybe you've done your healing but this person still has a long way to go, or vice versa.

I pick up on two contrasted energies which I will attempt to describe. Maybe you will resonate with one and the other might be your person's energy. So one person is doing very well financially and living their best life. This person is living their dream life. They worked really hard to be where they are now and they intend to protect what they've earned. They are very confident, have a lot of faith in themselves and in the Universe. They just stand in their power and do whatever they have to do with dignity and grace. They don't worry about the future nor the past, they don't care about what people may think. They just do what feels right to them and I feel like this earns them a lot of admiration from others. They are very communicative and smart, sensual, charismatic. They gently nudge people to adapt their attitude very naturally by embodying the best version of them. They are very mature and accomplished. This is someone that takes good care of their health and appearance but they also don't neglect their spiritual practice, and make sure that they sharpen their mind. This is a very balanced person.

Then, I pick up on the energy of someone that may not have their life very put together and may be going through a difficult phase in their life but doesn't give up nontheless. This person is trying their best to overcome their difficulties and learn from their mistakes. They are very bold in nature, curious, charismatic in their own way but this person may lack a bit of confidence and faith in themselves compared to the other person. Maybe things recently happened in their life which set them off balance and made them question themselves. This person is learning how to assert their power and regain balance. They are in the process of healing whatever trauma they deal with. They may be a bit immature and also insecure, especially about their body I am getting. This is someone that knows they are lacking and is determined to be better however they may have a hard time following through with their own decisions. They may not be as dedicated as the other person. They can be quite efficient and impressive as well but whenever they doubt themselves or don't feel their best, this person doesn't give off the best image.

In terms of zodiac signs, we have Taurus, Aquarius, Leo. I don't get a specific message as to how you may meet this person. It might take quite a while before you meet them, as your energies aren't aligned yet to enable this meeting.

Group 3 💕

Page of cups, 8 of cups, Magician, Queen of cups, Emperor, 10 of cups

Regardless of whether the cards are upright or not, positive or not, I got a strong no vibe from the spread right off the bat with the 3 first cards that fell out. You don't know this person yet and you probably haven't met them. I get the message that many of you have met a person that you like and were wondering whether this person could be the one. And the answer is no, apparently. I feel like you have been hoping to meet your FS for a while now and working really hard on manifesting that relationship. Which in itself isn't a bad thing. But I get the message that in doing so, you forgot about yourself and neglected yourself.

Spirit insists on saying that meeting your future spouse first starts with meeting yourself and loving yourself. The more you will be in an energy of putting others before yourself and forgetting yourself by giving your all for the benefit of others, the only connections you're gonna manifest will be toxic for you. You will draw in people that will seek to take advantage of your giving nature and have control over you. So if the person you were wondering about is the type to take a lot from you but gives you little in return, they are definitely not the one you were looking for. The person that has the highest potential of being your spouse is someone that will not take away from you greedily. They will be very loving towards you and also very giving. They won't seek to prioritize their own pleasure and needs above yours. They'll make sure things are even. They will be someone that nurtures you and uplifts you, encourages you to stand in your own power and cultivate your own hapiness. They will help you in manifesting your dreams and moving away from what no longer serves you. They will make you feel cared for, protected, understood on every level. They will be someone that will try to shift their perspective so that they can better understand you. They will find a common ground so that neither of you feels neglected or let down. They will be very in tune with your emotions and needs. They will be there for you no matter what, either by helping you assert a situation, offering practical help or reassuring you. They will make you feel empowered and so loved.

Water signs are highly represented here so your potential future spouse could have major water placements in their chart or just be a very sensitive and intuitive person. We also have Gemini and Aries. They just give off a very soft and comforting energy. They will like PDA and won't be scared to demonstrate their love for you in all kinds of ways. They'll give the best cuddles and just create a safe space for you to be your quirky self. You'll never have to feel pressured to do anything with or for them. You'll never feel judged or like you're not enough because you'll be perfect in their eyes. They could be the type to send you good morning and good night texts every day if you're at a distance from one another, or to remind you daily of how beautiful you are and how much they love you. I get a dad vibe from them so maybe your person will already have had children when you meet or they are used to being in contact with children. Maybe it's a part of their job or they're just naturally good at it because they are so caring on a daily basis. Regardless of their gender, I feel like this person will make a very good parent if that is something both of you are okay with.

[paradoxbeta]

there is never going to be a normal way to put this but can we see your iterator designs naked

like. just. how'd you design them under their clothes

yeah of course! heres a moon i whipped up

and now for some talking, because ive thought a bit about clotheless iterator designs:

moon's design was inspired off of the atlas models from boston dynamics (and probably all subsequent iterators i draw will be at least somewhat inspired off the same). theyre pretty handy sources of inspiration considering they look awesome, and since their movement is astonishingly fluid, theyre great models for what sort of joint and limb designs create articulate results. i think its obvious which one had the heaviest hand in inspiring looks to the moon

moon is an older model so in terms of squishiness (for lack of a better term) there is none except for the face. actually, little related detail, the base of her thumb is not flexible, its essentially a small solid block. if youve ever owned a poseable mannequin hand with an inflexible thumb base you probably know that it can cause issues with fine motion in specific circumstances: its just a hiccup of being an older make. the more recent you go then usually the less bare-bones the designs are, they get filled-out midriffs and more "pinchable" areas. take this guy for example:

this is old art and there's things here i would do differently now, but note the squishier underarm: that sort of thing (generally) becomes more common the more recent your models are.

another thing that changes over old to new models is the amount of variation in how the body is constructed, at the beginning i imagine there were only a few select tried-and-true "right" ways to do things, but as time goes on and more avenues of construction become available, designing an iterator's puppet becomes more and more of an art form that is influenced more and more by the judgement and creative tastes of the puppet designer(s). paneling becomes more a matter of aesthetic instead of functionality, and you start to see vanity features appear more frequently (like nipple adjacent markings as seen above, lol).

id say that while older models are closer to the atlas models in appearance, the newest iterators would probably bear more resemblance to the cyborg bodies found in the alita: battle angel film

anyway all of that is to say naked iterators are cool

[foodtruckery]

I've been having crazy Stancest brain rot thinking about an AU where they don't have the portal incident and instead have crazy marathon hate sex instead (Inspired by some amazing art by @CoreArde on Twitter) and I thought it'd be fun to share that with you.

They start off arguing in the lab and then oops they're fucking on the lab floor, and they really should be thinking this through but nope now they're upstairs fucking on the kitchen table and okay maybe now they'll finally talk about it nah, they're fucking in Ford's bed now.

It starts off as rough hate sex getting out years of frustration, but by the time they make it to the kitchen its become insanely desperate and cloying because they missed each other, and their bodies fit so well together, and GOD how could they have not been doing this all time? They're going at it so long that they basically end up passed out in Ford's bed by the end, and Stan's not going to be sitting down for a while after this. He's probably just happy to be sleeping in a bed, but Ford is trying to figure out how he got so far from the initial plan.

Even better if the two of them have been harboring feelings for years and never acted on it, because they get the one-two punch of all the weight of their time apart and processing the fact that OH GOD I JUST FUCKED MY BROTHER (which of course they both wanted to do but still).

I have no idea what would happen after that, but both of them waking up sore, sweat soaked, sticky with cum (some still inside Stan because of course Ford didn't use a condom this wasn't supposed to happen) after having gone at each other like rabbits in heat despite never having expressed their attraction to each other before is a hilarious and hot idea to me. What do you think?

HI THERE ANON. i am so fucking sorry that i left you waiting for so long about this, but i need you to know it's because i was FUCKING OBSESSED with this. like just absolutely beside myself over it, and i refused to respond until i had a chance to sit down and respond PROPERLY.

cause uh YEAH FRIEND i know the exact fucking piece of art (explicit) you're talking about, because it's INCREDIBLE. and in case you didn't know, the artist is over here too and shares some fucking fantastic writing and headcanons also! (seriously, go check out @/cartoonsinthemorning if you haven't. and cart, i hope you don't mind that anon and i both kinda lost our minds about your art over here! i genuinely have no idea what tag etiquette is on this site and didn't wanna bombard you, but you did this. again.)

i'll be honest, anon, this kinda got away from me (fucking shocker) and i am too tired to do any legit editing of it right now, so please forgive any typos or weirdness! i'll try and clean it up before it eventually goes up on ao3. but thank you for such a LOVELY ask because this was so hot, and so inspiring, and i hope i did a little justice to your idea and cart's gorgeous art!

--- Ford isn't entirely sure how it had started. His memory, his perception of time, his ability to follow a linear order of events -- all if it is less than reliable at the moment, so he can't entirely blame himself for losing track of things here and there. But the jump between trying to wrestle his journal out of Stan's hands to trying to wrestle Stan out of his dingey jeans is a jarring transition to lose in the dull static that's been edging around his awareness for weeks now. 

Not jarring enough to stop him, though. 

He thinks, vaguely, while he's blindly tugging at Stan's denim, that there's a concerningly high likelihood that he's hallucinating. His head is swimming in so much caffeine and adrenaline that he doesn't even feel the rough concrete of the lab floor under his knees -- maybe that isn't where he is? Maybe he'd nodded off without realizing. Maybe he's going to come to with another lapful of polaroids and a new humiliating tattoo. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe -- he can reckon with a probability model later. For the first time in what feels like months, the stability of his perceived reality is not actually at the forefront of Ford's mind.

Pressing in on him harder than the doubt, harder than the disassociation from his physical body, and harder than the threat of the creature lingering in the depths of his subconscious is anger. It feels like a beacon in the muddled, fuzzy mess inside his head, something bright and real and his. It's searing through him, slicing away all the frayed edges of his paranoia and doubt like a hot blade through so much butter. 

Ford clings to the sharp edges of that anger and feels more alert than he has in weeks. 

He can't remember how their bickering had taken this particular turn, but if he's liable to lose his eyes and his life in the next few days, Ford will be fucking damned if he squanders the opportunity. He knows he's made a mess of things, that he's made the sorts of mistakes that can't and frankly shouldn't be forgiven. 

But he also knows with blinding, white hot certainty that he's only here, now, because of Stan's mistakes.

Ford may not deserve absolution, but he does deserves this. 

Laughter cuts through the lab, rough and mocking, and Ford's attention finally falls, properly, on Stan. He has a bruise blooming on his cheek and a snide smirk twisting his lips. He's also on his back, his jeans and a threadbare pair of boxers bunched in Ford's fists and pulled so low he can see the tight curls of his pubic hair and the root of his cock. 

"What's wrong, Poindexter?" Stan asks, mocking, and it's only then that Ford realizes he's paused halfway through stripping his twin's lower half. The bite of the cold concrete under his knees still feels far away, but the rough material in his palms, and the heat of Stan's body so close to him are sharp, clear details. "No hands on experience with a dick that ain't your own? Afraid you might actually be bad at somethin' for once?" 

Ford narrows his eyes, feeling the hot point of anger cutting through him, steadying him, and he jerks Stan's clothes hard enough that he gets the material past his knees in one tug. Stan laughs at him again, but it stutters into a little 'oof!' when Ford flips him onto his stomach. 

He doesn't care that Stan's pants are still caught around his calves and his boots. He doesn't care that Stan hisses something that sounds like pain when he's yanked onto his knees and dragged backwards several inches across the concrete. He doesn't even care that, once upon a time, he'd dreamed of this, of crossing this line with the only person he'd ever really loved in any way that mattered, and it's nothing like the softer, sweeter picture he used to imagine. 

Stan's hips are soft, and the skin gives easily under the iron grip Ford has on them, holding him in place as he grinds against his ass. Even through his slacks, the heat of Stan's body is intense, addictive, and he grinds forward again, harder, watching the friction rub a pink  patch against his skin. 

Stan, shameless and selfish as always, pushes eagerly back against him. Ford has barely done anything beyond rocking the outline of his cock against his hole, but he can hear Stan panting against the ground, can see his hands curling into fists. He remembers how many times Stan had called Carla McCorkle "easy" in high school and thinks, now, that the easy one had been his brother. 

"You gonna keep humpin' me, or are you gonna fuck me?" Stan demands, rocking as firmly back as he can with the bruising grip Ford has on him. 

"What makes you think you deserve that?" Ford bites out. It would serve Stan right, he thinks, if he got himself off exactly like this, no different than grinding against a particularly firm couch pillow. Just a conveniently warm object for Ford to release some tension with. 

Stan looks back over his shoulder and flashes teeth at him. It isn't a smile. "Oh, I get it. Cold feet? Well, we can just chalk it up to one more thing ya promised and then backed out of as soon as you actually had to make a choice. Good to know some things never change, Stanford."

He's being goaded, and Ford knows that. But the anger boils in his chest, and he thinks, why should he care about what Stan does or doesn't deserve from him? This is about what Ford deserves.

And what Ford deserves is to have his dick so far up Stan's ass he'll be able to feel it in the back of his throat. 

"Do you ever shut up?" he snaps while he releases one of Stan's hips to yank his slacks open. The bruise of his fingerprints already forming against Stan's skin thrills him, almost to distraction, if it weren't for Stan laughing again. 

"'Course not," he says, shifting his center of balance to dig into the pocket of his dirty red coat. The little packet he tosses over his shoulder bounces off his own ass to land by Ford's knee, the word LUBE printed in large, bold letters across the front. He should be surprised to see it, and part of him is. The word "easy" comes to mind again. 

Ford rips the packet open with his teeth. 

"F-Fuck!" Stan curses, turning his forehead against the ground when Ford presses his slick cock into him a moment later without warning. 

Ford grabs him roughly by the waist when he twitches forward and yanks Stan back until his ass hits the open fly of his slacks. He makes a choked sound at that and turns his face into the crook of his own arm when Ford pulls back and rocks hard back into him. 

"What's wrong, Stanley?" he parrots. He pistons his hips at a punishing pace, watching his cock pumping in and out of the greedy, grasping ring of Stan's hole. "Nothing to say?" 

Stan makes a noise that's too muffled by the sleeve of his coat to understand, so Ford reaches down to take a fistful of his stupid mullet instead. The hitching gasp that escapes his twin when his head is forcefully jerked up makes him groan. "What was that? Come on, Stanley, use your words." 

"F-Fuck off," Stan says, his voice strained, almost whining. 

"I see you haven't gotten anymore eloquent since you left," Ford scoffs around the breathlessness in his own voice, feeling the anger and pleasure coiling harder in his gut. "What was it you said? Good to know some things never change." 

When he pulls Stan's hair again, just because he can, Stan moans. And when he shifts his hips, driving in just as hard at the new angle, Stan shouts. With his own knees bracketed on either side of his, Ford can feel the way his thighs tremble when he clenches around his cock, and he can feel the sweat beading up under his palm where he's digging darker bruises into Stan's side. 

Ford feels like he's on the edge of delirium again, consumed by every sound Stan makes, every twitch of his hips, every ounce of his heat. He thinks, a bit wildly, that Stan may have been made for this, made to take his cock, for how well he does. 

It isn't until Stan jerks under him, going hot and tight around his cock and making a strangled noise in the back of his throat, that Ford realizes he may have said part of that out loud. That Stan came over it. 

He groans low in his throat and thrusts half a dozen more times into Stan's clenching hole before he comes as well. 

It's quiet for a few minutes other than their ragged panting, but it's Stan who eventually reaches back and swats at Ford's hand until he lets go of his hair. He takes the hint and pulls out, watching with no small amount of satisfaction as his come trickles down Stan's thighs. It strikes him suddenly that he wants to follow the wet trail back up with his tongue. It's enough to make his cock give a feeble, appreciative twitch. 

He isn't sure if he's just terribly distracted or if he loses time again, because when Ford next lifts his head, Stan is on his feet, pants pulled up around his waist but still open, and he has his journal in hand. This might be more jarring than the last transition he'd lost. 

"What are you doing?" he demands, shoving himself back onto his own feet. He doesn't bother to tuck his cock back in, and he spots the moment Stan's eyes flick down. It's brief, but he'd seen it. 

"What does it fucking look like I'm doing? I'm taking your stupid diary and disappearing like you begged me to," Stan says. His voice is still a little raw, and Ford has a moment to realize how much he likes that, before the words catch up. 

He scoffs. "Oh! So now you want to actually help?! Is it always this easy to fuck the sense into you?" 

Stan's expression does a few things Ford doesn't understand before his brows ultimately slam down and he turns his back, storming towards the door with Ford's journal still in hand, and Ford himself hot on his heels. "You're fucking unbelievable, Stanford, you know that?!" 

"Me?! You're the one who came all over my lab floor and then decided he was ready to be reasonable!" 

Stan jams his thumb against the call button for the elevator several times in quick succession, despite the car already being on their floor and the gate sliding open. "Most people would just say thank you when someone agreed to help them out, but not you! What does Stanford Pines have to be grateful for? We're all just fucking lucky to get a task from ya, huh?" 

Ford crowds into the elevator with him before Stan can try to pull the gate or call the doors shut behind him. He punches the button to take them up himself, before making a grab for the journal, snarling when Stan leans back and holds it up above his head. 

"You're the one who threatened to destroy my work twenty minutes ago, Stanley! Why would I trust you with it now? Hell, I can't figure out why I trusted you enough to bring you here in the first place!" 

"Oh really? You can't?" Stan sneers, leaning in close. And when Ford takes a step back, Stan follows, backing him into a corner of the car. "I don't think you fuckin' trusted me to do shit, Stanford. I think you were all outta options cause nobody else could stand to put up with you anymore." 

Stan doesn't so much as hit a nerve as he takes a sledgehammer to it, and as soon as the elevator dings, Ford shoves him as hard as he can out into the study. Stan yelps when he stumbles, nearly tripping over his own feet, and it's only knocking into a cluttered desk that keeps him from falling on his ass. 

Ford doesn't give him any time to right himself, storming in after him and grabbing him by the front of his jacket. Stan flinches, like he'ex expecting a punch, but Ford yanks him in and crushes his mouth against his instead. 

There's a dull thump that Ford only realizes was the journal being dropped when he feels both of Stan's hands on his shoulders. They curl briefly, grasping at him, and Ford feels his mouth starting to go soft and slack. But as soon as he presses in, runs his tongue along that loosening seam, he's suddenly being shoved backwards. 

If he weren't so damn confused, Ford would probably appreciate the picture Stan makes, lips slick and pants open, leaning back against one of Ford's desks. 

"What are you doing?!" Stan demands, like he's the one who doesn't know what day it is, and keeps losing track of events. 

"I would think even you could figure that out after what happened downstairs, Stanley."

Stan flushes, visible even in the low light of the study, though Ford isn't sure if it's embarrassment or anger. The scowl on his face doesn't help clear things up, either, though the fact that he isn't actually looking at Ford is...telling.  

"That ain't happening again," Stan states, and there isn't anything convincing about the way he says it at all. But when Ford steps forward, Stan sidesteps him and the desk. He makes a wrong turn in the dark, in a house he isn't familiar with, and flinches when Ford flips on the light in the kitchen he's walked into.

"I don't know how you expect to leave and hide my journal after leaving it in the study," he points out, frowning at the back of Stan's head. 

He isn't surprised when Stan whirls on him. He is, however, stunned still when he realizes Stan's eyes are wet. 

"What the fuck do you want from me, Stanford?!" Stan shouts, his voice cracking over his name, and it makes something feel like it's cracking inside his chest. 

Ford has to wet his lips when he finds them and his throat dry. "...I told you what I wanted," he says.

"Yeah, you did! And when I finally agreed to do it, you threw a fucking fit about it! And now you're pissy because I'm not?! What do you want?" 

The anger sparks sharply inside him again, and Ford grasps at it like a lifeline, willing to bloody his hands for that bite of stability. 

"You tried to burn it! My life's work! And you only decided you would help me after we--"

Stan cuts him off, looking towards the cabinets while he raises his voice and waves his hands. "Jesus Christ, I'm sorry about the fucking lighter, all right?!"

Ford frowns. He takes a step forward and, still without looking at him, Stan takes a step back. It's the elevator all over again, but this time Ford is pressing in, backing Stan into the cabinets. He grabs the counter on either side of his hips when he tries to side step him again. 

"Stanley, look at me," he demands, frowning harder when Stan sets his jaw and stars determinedly at his shoulder. "Stanley--"

"What do you want, Ford? Just...just fucking tell me and I'll leave, all right?" Stan says, his voice tired and soft as he reaches up to rub a hand over his own face.

He wants a lot, honestly. And hasn't that always been the problem? He's always wanted -- to be normal, to be respected, to be the best, to be special. 

To be wanted. 

To be enough.

To fix things. 

"You," he realizes, watching Stan jerk his head up. His lashes are still wet, and Ford can't stop himself from reaching up and pressing his palm to Stan's cheek, skimming his thumb gently under one of his eyes. 

When he leans in to kiss him again, Stan makes a small, wounded little noise under his mouth, but he parts his lips for Ford's tongue this time. Stan's lips are chapped and he tastes vaguely of stale cigarettes, but Ford is still struck by how soft and sweet he is. 

More than anything else that had happened that evening, this is the moment that Ford knows he should suspect most of all. The way Stan relaxes between him and the counter, the almost tentative way he lifts his tongue to meet his, the careful fingertips touching the edge of Ford's coat and brushing against his loose tie. It's tender in a way Ford didn't think either of them were capable of, and it should be setting off warning bells and red flags in every part of his mind. 

It isn't. 

Ford is more certain of  the reality of this single moment, the gentle slip of Stan's lips against his own, than he's been of anything in a long time. 

And then Stan sighs between them and murmurs, warm and hopeful, "Ford," against his lips, and he's done for. 

It doesn't matter that they just fucked, that Ford's come is probably still drying between Stan's thighs -- he can't keep his hands off of him. Ford is suddenly frantic and desperate in a way that he hadn't been downstairs. He needs to relearn the new, wider shape of Stan's shoulders and pecs. He needs to feel out every new scar and take stock of all the old ones he remembers Stan collecting for him as kids. He needs to be surrounded by him again, soaking in the warmth of him. 

Ford doesn't deserve absolution, but he thinks he may be able to find something close to it in the low, shaky way Stan moans his name. 

And there's familiarity in the way Stan grabs at him in turn, tugging at his jacket and tie and surging into another, harder kiss. Ford thinks he may not be the only one looking for expiation. 

Then Stan drops to his knees between him and the cabinet, and Ford stops thinking so much. His cock is still out, and Stan wastes no time in getting his fist around the shaft and his lips around the head. He suckles and swirls his tongue, and Ford shoves the beanie off of his head to get his hands in his hair. 

"Stanley," he gasps, stroking his fingers along his scalp and fisting the strands between them. 

Stan moans around him and shuffles closer, sliding the seal of his lips further down the length of Ford's cock. All he can do is groan and try to keep from rocking his hips as more of him is greeted by the warmth of his mouth and the wickedness of his tongue. 

He keeps waiting for Stan to reach his limit, to back off and give himself room to breathe. He doesn't. He keeps leaning in, keeps taking him, and then Ford feels his cockhead slip into Stan's throat, sees his lashes are wet again, and he has to put one hand on the counter to keep himself steady. "Fuck, Stanley, you're so good at this."

Stan makes a horribly sweet sound around the girth of Ford's cock and reaches up to hold his hips as he swallows, and Ford is suddenly afraid he's going to embarass himself.  His hips twitch despite his best efforts to keep them still, but Stan simply relaxes his jaw and his throat and tugs a little to encourage him to do it again. He does, of course, how could he not? 

Despite the heat clawing its way through him and the pleasure mounting dangerously high, Ford almost feels outside of himself again. The picture Stan makes, with his eyes damp and heavy lidded, his lips wet and stretched around Ford's cock, his hair fisted in Ford's fingers and his own clinging to Ford's hips -- it's lewd, debauched, and so horribly sweet that it makes Ford's chest hurt. 

Stan gasps raggedly when Ford pulls him off. "I was go-gonna...I mean you can--"

Ford kneels down to kiss him, tasting stale cigarettes and himself, cock throbbing over the rough state of Stan's voice. "Not done yet," he manages, before tugging Stan onto his feet. 

They lose clothes and time on the journey upstairs, tripping over the steps and Ford's discarded pants, and stumbling into his wreck of a room. If Stan notices the state of things, he doesn't comment, mouth latched onto Ford's shoulder and hands all over his back and hips. 

The back of Ford's legs hit the bed and he sits hard on the mattress. Stan doesn't hesitate to crawl up into his lap. He'd lost his boots in the kitchen and his jeans and boxers somewhere on the way to the stairs, giving him ample opportunity to rub his bare cock against Ford's. 

Cursing, Ford rolls his hips and only belatedly remembers to reach up and tug the hideous red coat off of Stan's shoulders. 

"Oh, fuck, hold on. I think I have another one," Stan says, panting softly as he digs into the pockets of his coat. Ford takes the opportunity to run his hands across Stan's thighs and ass, squeezing whatever skin he can until Stan makes a triumphant sound and pulls another little packet of lube free. 

Only then does he let Ford toss his jacket aside and tug him further up the bed with him. He doesn't protest when Ford takes the packet from him, lowering his head to work open mouth kisses up Ford's throat instead, and he rolls his hips distractingly while Ford fights to get the damnable thing open. He ignores the snickering against his skin in the process. 

It stops anyway, hitching into something warm and startled when Ford sinks two slick fingers into him. 

"Oh, fuck," Stan breaths, reaching up to grab Ford by the shoulder, holding himself steady. "Y-You know you don't have to do that, right? Pretty loosened up already."

He is, to be fair. His hole is still soft and loose and fucked open. But Ford enjoys petting his fingers against the tender muscle and stroking them inside anyway. He likes watching Stan bite his lip and push himself back onto his hand. When he slides a third in after the first two, Stan's thighs tremble on either side of his own, and he makes a low, throaty sound. 

When Ford curls his fingers just right, Stan yells and grips his shoulder hard enough to hurt, and it makes warm satisfaction curl in his middle. So he does it a few more times, alternating between spreading his fingers and rubbing the tips against Stan's prostate until he's squirming in his lap. 

"I-I'm gonna come if you don't knock that sh-shit off," he gasps, slumping a bit when Ford chuckles and slides his fingers out. 

"I think I'd like that," Ford says, squeezing his slick fingers against Stan's thigh. 

He snorts and straightens back up, finding the discarded lube packet to squirt the remainder onto Ford's cock. "Yeah, I bet you fucking would," Stan agrees, but there's no malice in his voice, just warm amusement. 

His fist is warm and wonderful when it curls around Ford's cock, spreading lube, and then Ford is being held steady, Stan adjusts himself on his scuffed knees, and there's nothing else to do but hold on as Stan lowers himself into his lap. 

It feels as good as it had earlier to be inside of him, and Ford squeezes the thigh under his hand tightly, fighting against the need to buck his hips. Stan is panting softly, his head tilted back and a pretty, pink color is crawling up from under his t-shirt to flood his neck and face. 

Ford groans and leans forward, finding a nipple through his thin shirt to get his teeth and tongue against.

"F-Ford!" Stan gasps, fumbling the hand not clawing at his shoulder up into his hair, and Ford sucks hard on the firm nub,  rubbing spit-soaked cotton against it with his tongue until Stan rocks in his lap. 

Fuck, he likes that, the way his name sounds in Stan's voice, especially warm and rough after fucking his throat earlier. 

He squeezes Stan's thigh and his hip, giving him a little tug, and that's all the encouragement Stan needs before he's bouncing on his cock. Ford has that thought again -- that Stan was meant to be filled by him, that they're a perfectly matched set. But it isn't just feeling good and hot while Stan fucks himself in his lap. It's feeling like he's been missing something and he finally has it, like he's finally complete again. 

He's missed this, Ford realizes. 

Not the fucking his brother part. He'd fantasized about that for years but it still feels like a dream that it's happening, like something that's too good to be true. 

But being able to put his arms around him? To be this close to him again? 

Ford rocks his hips up, hard, and Stan says his name. He wraps his fingers around Stan's cock, and he gasps his name. He bites the same swollen, pink nipple through his shirt, and Stan shouts his name. 

He snaps his hips up to meet him a few more times and rubs the sensitive glans under the head of Stan's cock, and then there are teeth digging into his other shoulder and his fist and stomach are being striped in Stan's come while he shudders and jerks overtop of him. 

Stan goes easily when Ford rolls them over and pins one of his wrists to the bed. And despite the way he squirms and how his spent cock twitches and leaks, blatantly overstimulated, he hooks his ankles behind Ford's back and urges him on. 

"C-C'mon, give it to me. Fuck, just like that, Sixer!" 

The nickname hits him with all the subtlety of a truck and all the heat of a volcanic eruption. 

He doesn't even remember coming so much as he remembers every synapses in his brain trying to fire at once. Coming back down to reality is a little clearer, with his head spinning and pulse racing as he flops onto his back, but it still takes several long minutes before he feels fully cognizant again. 

Something makes the bed shift, and he looks over to see that Stan has rolled onto his stomach. Ford wonders if he looks half as fucked out as Stan does, with bruises blossoming across his body, his shirt rucked halfway up his stomach, and come staining his ass and thighs. Ford realizes Stan still has his socks on, and he can't figure out why that makes something twinge, hot but exhausted and halfhearted, in his gut. 

"Gonna...gonna get up in a minute," Stan says, his voice slurring and his eyes already closed. Ford watches him rub his cheek against one of Ford's pillows, and the soft sound of snoring follows soon after. 

The reality of the situation starts to settle in shortly after that, and Ford stares wide eyed up at the ceiling as if he'll find some sort of answers there. Unsurprisingly, there are no secrets etched overhead for how to reckon with the fact that he had just fucked his brother, twice, while the fate of the world was still very much hanging in the balance between his fraying sanity and Bill's looming threat. 

".....Fuck," Ford murmurs.

When the adrenaline finishes seeping out of his system, Ford expects to crash. The exhaustion certainly climbs back into his bones, but he's surprised to find himself still clear headed. Focused. 

The sound of Stan sleeping soundly beside him is as soothing as it is mocking, but he doesn't want to separate himself from it even though he knows he needs to get up. There's soft, gray light starting to creep in through the windows, and distant birdsong calling for the start of the day. He needs to readjust, to come up with a new plan, find some way to explain to Stan what's going on so they can buy themselves a little more time. 

Against all odds and his better judgment, there's a tiny, optimistic voice in the back of his head reminding him that there's strength in numbers. He isn't surprised that it sounds like Stan.

[anathemafiction]

Hello Anathema, I am an aspiring IF writer, and I have a question that I hope you don't mind answering. How did you become so good at writing romance and intimacy? I am attempting to write an IF, but anytime I try to write anything with even the slightest hint of romance, I feel like my writing falls apart.

I try to take inspiration from your work, and rereading the Golden Rose seems to help a little bit, but it just doesn't feel like I am getting the essence of writing romantic interactions. I tried reading romance novels, but I have found that I dislike them (which was surprising since I love romance in visual novels, IF and videogames). So right now, I am feeling a bit lost on how to proceed. Do you have any tips or insights you could give? Anything you particularly pay attention to when writing romantic interactions?

This is hard. I don't consider myself a particularly good romance writer, but I can try to share some tips!

I'd avoid doing what I did in the first few chapters of Book One, where the flirt options are only blushing or winking 😆. I didn't know how to write romance in a game yet, and although I believe I got better by the end of the book, I'm still learning to perfect it.

So, I suggest writing more realistic dialogue and reactions. Study how actors (from good shows) talk and move in tandem with each other. When reading a book, take a moment to pull yourself from the story and see how the writer constructed the scene.

The intimate scenes I've written are a mixture of what I played in video games, what I read in books, what I watched in movies and TV, and, of course, what I've lived in real life. You need to try to put yourself in your characters' shoes — both NPCs and the MC — and imagine a conversation. What would they realistically say or do? How do two people connect with each other?

The same goes for friendship, but romance has the added desire mixed into it. It's tough to describe the intensity of a piercing stare, the jolt when you brush hands, or that warmth at the back of your neck when you make eye contact with the person you're crushing on.

If you struggle with writing romance, don't try to make it something too big or extensive. Sometimes, a character reaching for a water bottle and passing it on without speaking is enough. Or you stepping closer to them when danger approaches - whether to protect, feel protected, or both.

Because this is a story and not real life, think of situations that can enhance the connection between characters. The horse ride was, of course, a bit forced. Still, it opened an opportunity for you to share a private moment with Hadrian or Alessa that will have the reader connect a bit more to the characters and their relationship with Romanus.

To summarize, mix what you like as the author and how, between the madness (or non-madness) of the plot, two people can find refuge and comfort in each other.

[letters-to-rosie]

okay time to collect some thoughts

spoilers for season 2

as soon as they said there were other regions going to be explored, I knew Noxus was going to be the big thing, and that the battle between the cities and the class conflict angles of the story were going to be set aside. if you know me, you know I would hate this, but because I anticipated it, it wasn't too bad. I had already killed the version of the show I wanted in my head and was ready to take things as they came. and it wasn't all bad. Ambessa makes for a great villain, and all the twists and turns with her and Mel were pretty enjoyable

that being said, the second season in general did away with most of the things I liked about the first: subtlety, nuance, environmental storytelling (and all that sweet sweet class conflict)---I mean the cities just faded into the background as we watched everything play out. even a lot of the great character work we got in the first season was just left as it was. most the characters didn't really get to move much from where they were in the first season. even the ones I enjoyed (like Ambessa) were essentially the same as they were before. there were a lot of things that were cool. a lot of things that were interesting. most of them don't work when put together

Jayce? liked him this season, actually. had fun when he was suffering lol and fighting Viktor. Jayce disappearing out of the blue when the basement of the hexgates wasn't set up at all? boooooo

Jinx? gets to realize she isn't just a jinx. gets to help people. is this realized in a satisfying way? nope. we get one scene of people touching her and then Isha dies and she's back where she was at the start of the season, almost. plus her relationship with Sevika just drops off, and I was having fun with that

Cait? love her evil era. I also like that the plot didn't let her entirely off the hook. love less how she engaged in fucking chemical warfare like what even and that was never addressed

Ekko? has my whole heart. did before, but whatever. saved everyone's asses by being the best boy. love how he's motivated by helping the people who need him. love MUCH less that we never get to see him doing that work. like what did he think of Jinx becoming inspiring to people? how would that combine with his experience in the alternate timeline?

I could go on. I might be better prepared to deal with this than some because I didn't think it would be good in the first place lol I had like no hope. it was such a grand show in the first place and they made it so much grander. there's a lot to like, but the first season REALLY carries it. it feels like two separate shows. I don't begrudge anyone really liking the second season, but I will maintain that the fanbase deserved (and still deserves) better

[tomahachi12]

Hello I love the murder drones virus au that your working on i definitely love how your giving it a infectious disease like pattern.in middle school before Covid I actually wanted to be a epidemiologist a person who studies the pattern of outbreaks of diseases,so I have a bunch of random knowledge on diseases so I’m loving this au.I also love how you are putting different stages of the illness and different side effects and the stages of transformation.

also what real life disease were you inspired by to make this au,to me so far it looks to be inspired by rabies considering that it’s transferred through bites and the infected individual is in a bit of agrresive like state?also if it is inspired by rabies do the infected experience something similar to that of hydrophobia that humans that get rabies experience?

also my question is uzi transforming into a bat cause that will be cool and very fitting if the virus is inspired by rabies cause bats here where I live in the US are the number 1 carriers of the rabies virus?also do the infected have traits left over from when they were infected like the body changes?one last question was the virus idea also inspired by that of stories of rabies from way back in the days where people thought people infected with rabies were werewolves and would transform after getting bitten?

anyway I hope you don’t mind this long message I just really love your au and I love learning about diseases and watching murder drones so this is one of the greatest aus I’ve came across combining two of my interests.keep up the great work.

oh goodness!

I'm glad you're enjoying the AU!

It was more-so inspired by the werewolf thing, but I can see how it could be similar to rabies as well!

as for the effects, no, they don't become hydrophobic. It's just a highly contagious data virus that only effects Solver drones, increases aggression (makes it easier to spread) and causes physical changes to their bodies,

mostly just werewolfy stuff (:

I'm a huge nerd for werewolf/transformation shit, it's just so much fun!

Uzi transforms into a bat cause it better fits with her Solver form having the bat wings anyway.

Even after being cured they may still have some lingering traits that stuck with them. V still makes biscuits and purrs (she gets embarrassed by it), N chews on things and sometimes get caught chasing his tail (though he probably already did all that before the infection), J idly whistles or chirps and starts using her wings more often. Uzi get a little more bitey and sometimes prefers to sleep upside-down, but she'll fall in the middle of the night/day whenever they sleep (N places pillows or a mattress under her or he'll join and hold onto her.)

[dovalore]

parkour civilization but i slowly turn everyone into some sort of creature

design notes under cut

billiam

apparently he's supposed to be a turtle, but who better to guard treasures than a dragon? he's a dragon now and his name is billiam (granted, he did get bribed into opening the vault but who said that dragons can't get a little greedy sometimes huh)

on that note, did you know that 'bill' is short for 'william'?

when i first saw him i remember thinking that he was some sort of slime because the only thing on the front of his face are his nostrils and i mistook those for eyes, so he's got a big beak

there are some turtle elements to him, like big webbed hands and his aforementioned beak. his tail was inspired by a snapping turtle's. proportionally, it's shorter than a snapping turtle's because a short chunky tail is cute

distinguished gentleman who's a little bit whimsical

the rings on his fingers are there for visual interest and i think a fancy guy like billiam would want to accessorise a little, as a treat

name is currency related because banker, initially i thought about ingot and coin, but billiam won out in the end because it's silly

changed his suit from black to green because black suits bore me and i'm starting to think that i might have some kinda beef with them

actually being the fancy man he is, maybe he could have multiple of this exact same suit in different colours, ties too

bys

same species as emf and ley

name comes from abyss

i went into this design knowing that i'd absolutely have his eyes covered by something, but i had nothing else to really take inspiration from visually, so i thought about water buckets

what do water buckets in minecraft make? waterfalls

what do waterfalls do? they cascade

you know what else can be described as cascading? really long hair

boom, there's an idea

his hair ended up becoming silky smooth because i wanted to have a little nod towards my through process by adding a water-like shine to it

he ends up becoming kind of intimidating during his battle with evbo, so now he gets to reflect that outwardly

personality wise he's chill

he only wears pants because the rest of him is covered in dense fur and he doesn't really need it

bys refuses to get a haircut so it ends up covering his face all the time unless you look at him mid parkour

other name ideas i tossed about were 'cascade' (from above reasons) and 'nor' (from honor, specifically because he was honest about what he was doing right at the end)

cascade wasn't chosen since it's not 3 letters, nor was kinda... eh

bys from abyss works out since the abyss is dark and you'd usually hear the word in context of the ocean, which is water, he's the water bucket guy

[theorahsart]

My brain keeps thinking about some kind if Wicked x Frev crossover AU.

I cant think of a musical better suited to Robespierre than one where someone of a Greenish Complexion ends up getting scape goated and painted as evil, all because they stand by their convictions and want to help/expose the truth.

The lyrics to "No Good Deed" so suited to Robespierre, as he desperately tries to save Camille and fails ;_;

Thr other characters narratives dont run many parallels to Frev, so its a little harder to assign side characters. But I can vm picture in this AU, Camille being the bratty school-friend GUH-linda lol

Also SJ would maybe be Fearo- cos, rebellious school dropout who starts to get serious about politics once he becomes inspired by Robespierre huhu.

Maybe Ill doodle it at some point. I suspect if I go see the movie version of Wicked, Ill just be drawing lots of sapphic fanart of the actual characters for a while (I LOVE THEM)

[lonewolfel]

So I got inspired. Instead of working on my finals I wrote this. Trigger warning for character death. Short one shot below the cut.

Athena's hands were shaking. They were bright pink from the long hours…days scrubbing her hands. (They should have been coated with blood. She still felt it there congealing against her skin.)

Athena blinked. She saw her hands still coated with blood. She gasped and dropped the scissors onto the ground. It made a clanging sound. (Nothing like the dull thump of a spear hitting the training grounds floor.)

Athena shook her head. She was better than this. Stronger than this. Today she was to become an Olympian. This wasn't even the first time she has lost someone.

(She remembers her mother's phantom touches as she was consumed. Her essence erased by her father's, her mother's husband. She remembered her own frantic attempts to escape.)

Athena picks up the scissors. She won't let herself fall apart, all the gods were expecting her. She wouldn't allow herself to be defeated so easily.

With shaking hands Athena began to cut her hair. Auburn hair clumps fell to the ground. (Crimson drops stained the sand.) She knew her hair was uneven but she doesn't think she could handle looking at herself in a mirror. (Pallas had been the one to do her hair.)

Athena brushed off her chopped hair from her skin. She changed into an beautifully crafted chiton that she had made.

As Athena left the bathroom she grabbed her spear. It had been cleaned and worked on by Hephaestus. (She could still feel the river cool blood run down the spear staining her hands. Forever staining her hands.)

Athena walked out of her new palace. The other gods stopped to stare at her. She could hear them whisper to each other.

Athena paid them no mind. She climbed the stairs to her father's thrown.

There Zeus sat on his thrown. Athena knelt before him. Zeus rose.

"Family, we have gathered here today to welcome a new goddess among us. I present to you Pallas Athena," Zeus's voice boomed out.

Athena kept in her flinch at the title. (It was mocking her friend. Her killer now held her name.)

"The goddess of battle strategy."

Athena felt anything but a master at strategy when you accidently kill your best friend in a friendly spar.

"Wisdom."

If she was so smart why couldn't she save Pallas.

"Crafting. Rise daughter."

On numb legs Athena stood.

Zeus presented Athena a shield. She numbly took it. (The gift was mocking she couldn't protect anyone.)

"Welcome home, daughter."

This wasn't home. Athena was forced to leave the only home she had.

Silently Athena promised never to get close to another being. For as long as she was alive she was a threat to those she loves.

Welcome to "Tasha don't color the sketch" challenge, level impossible

Seriously what are sketches I sure as hell don't know then

Anyway have this pic of Athena cutting her hair after Pallas's death (as a sign of mourning) bc ANGST

[starry-bi-sky]

i need to get this out of my head before i continue clone^2 but danny being the first batkid. Like, standard procedure stuff: his parents and sister die, danny ends up with Vlad Masters. He drags him along to stereotypical galas and stuff; Danny is not having a good time.

He ends up going to one of the Wayne Galas being hosted ever since elusive Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham. Vlad is crowing about having this opportunity as he's been wanting to sink his claws into the company for a long while now. Danny is too busy grieving to care what he wants.

And like most Galas, once Vlad is done showing him off to the other socialites and the like, he disappears. Off to a dark corner, or to one of the many balconies; doesn't matter. There he runs into said star of the show, Bruce who is still young, has been Batman for at least a year at this point, but still getting used to all these damn people and socializing. He's stepped off to hide for a few minutes before stepping back into the shark tank.

And he runs into a kid with circles under his eyes and a dull gleam in them. Familiar, like looking into a mirror.

Danny tries to excuse himself, he hasn't stopped crying since his parents died and it's been months. He rubs his eyes and stands up, and stumbles over a half-hearted apology to Mister Wayne. Some of Vlad's etiquette lessons kicking in.

Bruce is awkward, but he softens. "That's alright, lad," he says, pulling up some of that Brucie Wayne confidence, "I was just coming out here to get some fresh air."

There's a little pressing; Bruce asks who he's here with, Danny says, voice quiet and grief-stricken, that he's with his godfather Vlad Masters. Bruce asks him if he knows where he is, and Danny tells him he does. Bruce offers to leave, Danny tells him to do whatever he wants.

It ends with Bruce staying, standing off to the side with Danny in silence. Neither of them say a word, and Danny eventually leaves first in that same silence.

Bruce looks into Vlad Masters after everything is over, his interest piqued. He finds news about him taking in Danny Fenton: he looks into Danny Fenton. He finds news articles about his parents' deaths, their occupations, everything he can get his hands on.

At the next gala, he sees Danny again. And he looks the same as ever: quiet like a ghost, just as pale, and full of grief. Bruce sits in silence with him again for nearly ten minutes before he strikes a conversation.

"Do you like to do anything?"

Nothing. Just silence.

Bruce isn't quite sure what to do: comfort is not his forte, and Danny doesn't know him. He's smart enough to know that. So he starts talking about other things; anything he can think of that Brucie Wayne might say, that also wasn't inappropriate for a kid to hear.

Danny says nothing the entire time, and is again the first to leave.

Bruce watches from a distance as he intercts with Vlad Masters; how Vlad Masters interacts with him. He doesn't like what he sees: Vlad Masters keeps a hand on Danny's shoulder like one would hold onto the collar of a dog. He parades him around like a trophy he won.

And there are moments, when someone gets too close or when someone tries to shake Danny's hand, of deep possessiveness that flints over Vlad Masters' eyes. Like a dragon guarding a horde.

He plays the act of doting godfather well: but Bruce knows a liar when he sees one. Like recognizes like.

Danny is dull-eyed and blank faced the entire time; he looks miserable.

So Bruce tries to host more parties; if only so that he can talk to Danny alone. Vlad seems all too happy to attend, toting Danny along like a ribbon, and on the dot every hour, Danny slips away to somewhere to hide. Bruce appears twenty minutes later.

"I was looking into your godfather's company," he says one night, trying to think of more things to say. Some nights all they do is sit in silence. "Some of my shareholders were thinking of partnering up--"

"Don't."

He stops. Danny hardly says a word to him, he doesn't even look at him -- he's sitting on the ground, his head in his knees. Like he's trying to hide from the world. But he's looking, blue eyes piercing up at Bruce.

Bruce tilts his head, practiced puppy-like. "Pardon?"

"Don't." Danny says, strongly. "Don't make any deals with Vlad."

It's the most words Danny's spoken to him, and there's a look in his eyes like a candle finding its spark. Something hard. Bruce presses further, "And why is that?"

The spark flutters, and flushes out. Danny blinks like he's coming out of a trance, and slumps back into himself. "Just don't."

Bruce stares at him, thoughtful, before looking away. "Alright. I won't."

And they fall back into silence.

Danny, when he leaves, turns to look at Bruce, "I mean it." He says; soft like he's telling a secret, "Don't make any deals with him. Don't be alone with him. Don't work with him."

He's scampered away before Bruce can question him further.

(He never planned on working with Vlad Masters and his company; he's done his research. He's seen the misfortune. But nothing ever leads back to him. There's no evidence of anything. But Danny knows something.)

At their next meeting, Danny starts the conversation. It's new, and it's welcomed. He says, cutting through their five minute quiet, that he likes stars. And he doesn't like that he can't see them in Gotham.

Bruce hums in interest, and Danny continues talking. It's as if floodgates had been opened, and as Bruce takes a sip of his wine, it tastes like victory.

("Tucker told me once--") ("Tucker?") ("Oh-- uh, one of my best friends. He's a tech geek. We haven't talked in a while.")

(Danny shut down in his grief -- his friends are worried, but can't reach him. When he goes back to the manor with Vlad, he fishes out his phone and sends them a message.)

(They are ecstatic to hear from him.)

It all culminates until one day, when Danny is leaving to go back inside, that Bruce speaks up. "You know," He says, leaning against the railing. "The manor has many rooms; plenty of space for a guest."

The implication there, hidden between the lines. And Danny is smart, he looks at Bruce with a sharp glean in his eyes, and he nods. "Good to know."

The next time they see each other, Danny has something in his hands. "Can you hold onto something for me?" He asks.

When Bruce agrees, Danny places a pearl into his palm. or, at least, it's something that looks like a pearl. Because it's cold to the touch; sinking into Bruce's white silk gloves with ease and shimmering like an opal. It moves a little as it settles into his hand, and the moves like its full of liquid.

Bruce has never seen anything like it before, but he does know this; it's not human. "What is it?" He asks, and Danny looks uncomfortable.

"I can't tell you that." He says, shifting on his foot like he's scared of someone seeing it. "But please be careful with it. Treat it like it's extremely fragile."

When Bruce gets home, he puts it in an empty ring box and hides the box in the cave. He tries researching into what it is. he can't find anything concrete.

Everything comes to a head one day when Danny appears at the manor's doorstep one evening, soaking wet in the rain, and bleeding from the side.

[countess-of-edessa]

"i could never be a stay at home mom i need a career what if my husband left me or died? i would never depend on him" okay but ladies some of you are english majors. that's worse

[thatstroubling]

4th wall is acknowledging the audience and then 5th wall would be...the audience BEING in the story? if so then...does THAT ending count?

breaking the FIFTH wall. im going into the ceiling

[giurochedadomani]

“I used to be a marine”, he says, before he can think better of it. And when he does think better of it, well. He’s already said it. 

Next to him, he can feel Shanks tensing up. He leaves him ample time to cut him off, half relieved when the redhead stays silent. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees him idly tracing the neck of the bottle they’ve emptied. 

“I didn’t join out of some misplaced faith or sense of justice”, he feels the need to point out, his father’s stern face at the back of his mind. “I joined because my brother did”. 

To have an excuse to get out of home, too. With Calugurul about to be shipped off, he hadn’t been too eager to find out if he could withstand the full scope of their father’s attention alone. 

“We were… close, my brother and I”, he continues. And then, because it feels cheap to encompass their relationship with just that: “He taught me to fight. Gave me my first sword”. 

Back when Yoru doubled him in height and he couldn’t fathom how his brother managed to wield it when he himself had trouble raising a simple steel sword.

“He did have faith in the cause”, he says after a moment. Under the night sky, Yoru stays black and void. Even the reflection of the small bonfire they’ve built evades it. “Quickly gained the trust of peers… and superiors”. 

The back of his throat tastes bitter. Why is he doing this? He doesn’t owe Shanks a single thing. Why is he wasting his time trying to appease the redhead’s stupid insecurity about him not joining his crew? 

He sighs. 

“My skills in combat kept me by his side through all of it. That is, until Gyorgy Thurzo became our captain”.  

[eclaire-went-bam]

something really funny to me about my mom really thinking i wanted to become a therapist because i'm taking psychology & have like 2-3 psych books

i would genuinely be The Worst therapist i simply wouldn't be able to care about any of my patients . i would believe i am better than my patients . it would be a circus .

[throughpatchesofviolet]

I think the reason Heathlock has become my main ship is because Sherry, while being based off Sherlock Holmes, is the insert who's the most like me--because her counterpart does so many things I do, like getting moody for seemingly no reason, or getting hyper focused on a task, or having a cluttered space, or just observing things others miss. So, naturally, Sherry does all these things, too.

But the real comfort is when Sherry does slip into moodiness, or become averse to romance, Heathcliff is still there. He doesn't ever cross her boundaries, and (usually*) communicates with her about how she's feeling/what she wants. Even when she's not in the mood to be touched, he'll simply sit nearby and wait for her to invite his affection. Or he'll be quiet when he knows she's overwhelmed and needs silence.

He's very attentive to Sherry, and--while he never says it out loud-- him respecting her boundaries is a way he expresses his love for her.