#and do most of my drawing during downtime

[euphreana]

So... the next comic I'm working on (the pancakes comic) has Goldenheart kissing and I'm not sure how good an idea it is to work on it in the open here at my job. (I live in the south.)

I don't fear for my safety or of losing my job, but still... 😅

[tradingjack]

having fun with colors for once :P

thanks @creepycoffins for the awesome dtiys :D

[anomaliex]

All of the bad kids have darkvision (even Kristen, not bc of race but twilight domain clerics get like crazy darkvision??) which is neat to me.

Idk, it definitely opens opportunities for strategically taking away major light sources in battle and makes stealthing at night easier and means travel through dark caves or forests during adventures isn't as dangerous as it might be for other parties (oh. Did it help with the Night Yorb?) etc etc, but it can also just be silly I guess. It's getting late at a sleepover but they never turn on the lights and they draw on Gorgug's face after he fell asleep but most of them see in grey tones in the dark but they kinda. Forgot. And now the colours are all wrong :(

I've also seen someone say yeah Gukgak apartment almost always dark and just. Yeah. Lights out unless it's really late and they have a non dark vision guest (rare). I think there are times where Fabian gets up at the ass crack of dawn because he has to fix his hair and he just does it in the dark so no one can tell he takes that long. I think the Mordred Manor gang in a super busy week if they're stressed with school/work will set the table and sit down to eat and almost not notice it's so dark for no reason until someone goes hey my food looks kinda dull that's weird. (Assuming Jawbone has dark vision. Which he should lol. Shifters do and that's what he should count as I think??) Also all of these scenarios I'm assuming it's like winter and it's dark out for longer so dim natural lighting at best.

Oh also something something Bad Kids ultimate hide and seek dude. In weird dark caves or mines during their (not world saving but just part of school) adventures because they goof off sometimes. Riz is always hidden the longest for very very obvious reasons and he also finds everyone the fastest for equally obvious reasons (if he uses investigation rather than perception, which I think is fair even if you'd typically do perception vs stealth because it is hide and seek, then after junior year all of his friends mechanically fully just. would not be able to hide from him* without a critical success ((and raw you can't crit on skill checks lmao but in the world of Spyre you can)) and this is really funny to me) but hey technically this is awesome exercise for a rogue to keep his mind sharp during downtime this is in middle school intro to adventuring books for sure. Maybe they rule it so that Riz wins if he finds them on a very small time limit so it's actually a challenge.

Idk idk I think it's fun if people consider stuff like darkvision in fics I want darkvision that'd be so convenient

*for clarification if you're reading this without having their stats memorised like some loser it's like. Riz's investigation is +14. He has reliable talent. The worst he can fucking get is a 24. Not to mention passive investigation is a thing that they've used (when Riz being in a room auto revealed the curse artefacts that one time) so it's kinda established that he wouldn't even have to "roll". Which in universe would mean he wouldn't even have to make an active effort I guess?

None of the bad kids (other than Riz ofc) are proficient in stealth and therefore none of them could beat a 24 with stealth without critting lmao. Fabian, with his maxed out dexterity, can match it on a 19. So if Fabian rolled as high as possible without critting and Riz rolled as bad as he can does Fabian have a slither of a chance? The ruling on what happens when you tie on contested checks is kind of weird because "oh the situation doesn't change" which is obvious with like, contested athletics but in cases like these it's less intuitive. What does not changing mean when it's hiding vs searching?? Does it mean the hiding person stays hidden? Or would this be less of a contested check since they don't happen at the exact same time and more of a hider sets the dc for seeker. In which case Riz would auto succeed because you just have to meet dcs to beat them. I am thinking too much about the mechanics of some (probably drunk) teenagers playing hide and seek. As I'm typing this I'm remembering that he wouldn't have to roll to meet a 24 because yeah passive investigation of a maniac (affectionately). Yeah okay he would just notice even Fabian in all cases but the case of a critical success.

Here I note that I don't put it past Fig to acquire Pass Without Trace (magical secrets) just to gain a chance at beating Riz in hide and seek. She'd fucking do it. She goes to visit her wood elf relatives to get pointers and all. Wow this derailed this was about darkvision at first.

[jayrockin]

Your hourlies are so cool, year after year. Would you mind sharing some of your process? Specially, HOW do you have time to do them as the day goes on? Or do you take notes on the hour and draw them later?

I don't literally make them hour by hour. I'm not interested in that kind of time crunch, because it would result in either one panel per hour or bad comics. I usually try to complete them all within 32 or so hours, because they ARE better when the events are fresh in my mind, but I draw them during downtime and keep mental notes or write a couple words while I'm busy. This last batch took me 3 days to finish, which isn't ideal, but I had little downtime for three days in a row. What's most important to me is documenting the day nicely.

[koboldfactory]

Do you have any art advice to try to get better at art, to go along with "keep drawing to improve"

I do and I will do my best to convey it in a way that is actually comprehensible as I am a terrible teacher lol.

A SUPER important thing I started doing when I was very young to learn art was to mimic a drawing without tracing it to try to understand how it is composed while not just turning my brain off and tracing over lines. Like having a piece of art open right next to where you are trying to draw the exact same thing. While there is something to be learned from tracing, that well kinda dries up quick. I found this to work much better, especially as I had already learned to draw basic things on my own. People like to lump all tracing in with stealing art but like just be polite about it and credit the original artist if/when you post it! most people will be chill if you just ask first and are doing it to learn! (especially if youre not even postin it)

Another thing is to give yourself what I like to call "silly sketching time" in between constructive learning pieces. Just draw the most garbage, easy to draw, fun thing you can possibly think of! If it's work work work all the time you're gonna burn out! but not drawing at all during downtime can be detrimental too. Just let yourself be silly with it!

Final big piece of advice for now is learn from things you LIKE. sure standard stuff like anatomy and perspective and geometry are important, but you can also learn those things WHILE drawing the stuff you're actually interested in!! try to understand how your favorite thing is constructed and learn techniques by drawing inspiration from it!

[live-laugh-legolas]

Hello!! Could you do headcanons of the fellowship + Faramir and what art they like/do as a hobby? Like painting, music, knit, and so on. Thank you!!

I was working on this but it got pushed to the back as I try to prioritize asks so this is perfect!

Hobbies of the fellowship (+Faramir)

Aragorn:

-Whittling

-He has a lot of downtime during his time as a ranger

-And he is surrounded by sticks and stuff and was probably already fiddling with a knife

-He often doesn’t take the little animals he makes with him so he either gives them to kids in a village he is near, or just leaves them around for someone to find

-I can also imagine him keeping a guitar with him so he can play around a fire at night during his travels

-A very humble player but also not shy about playing or singing if asked

Legolas:

-Anything physical really

-Climbing, swimming, gymnastics, etc

-He just needs to be moving

-He also has a habit of taking in orphaned or injured animals to nurse them back to health

-Would just have a squirrel in his pocket like Bob Ross

-His father has had to tell him multiple times that bunnies are not allowed on the dinner table

Gimli:

-He plays the flute

-Don’t ask how I know because no one will ever see him playing

-But he does

-He also enjoys jewelry making

-He’s a dwarf who appreciates a pretty piece of metal work or a perfectly shiny jewel

-I have an uncle who will sharpen knives at family gatherings because he doesn’t really want to talk to anyone (and I can’t blame him) but he also loves glitter and stuff, and that’s loosely how I picture Gimli

Boromir:

-I love that you mentioned knitting because that is exactly what I picture this man doing

-He’s not particularly good, but also not bad

-Mostly just makes scarves to relax

-Faramir has so many scarves and hats

-He definitely donates the extras that aren’t given to his brother

-Side note, he cannot crochet despite trying to

Frodo:

-Learning languages

-We know he has learned elvish to an extent and I think that this is a passion of his

-Loves to teach his friends “swears” that are actually compliments

-He also likes making origami

-Nothing too extravagant, just little cranes and stars maybe

-But he makes so many he doesn’t know what to do with them

-He will hide little cranes all around the shire for other hobbits to find

Sam:

-I mean this one is obvious…

-He loves gardening!

-He feels so accomplished when he gets to watch his plants grow, and eat fresh food from the ground

-Potatoes

-I also think he would secretly enjoy writing poetry

-I’m pretty sure Bilbo taught him how to read and write and he makes sure to put it to use so he doesn’t forget how

-He may not be Shakespeare but it is always sweet and from the heart

Merry:

-Riding

-He loves to take his pony around the shire

-He also likes experimenting with cooking and drink making

-It’s not always good, in fact it often isn’t, but it’s the process to him that matters

-If he were in modern days he would love the movie Ratatouille

Pippin:

-He is a very musical hobbit

-When he’s not stuffing his face he’s playing instruments and singing at the Green Dragon

-I also think he would really love making pottery

-The feel of molding the clay on the wheel really quiets his mind which frankly he really needs from time to time

Gandalf:

-Ok hear me out

-Ik this isn’t technically really a hobby but he likes napping

-He wants to find the most peaceful spot and just close his eyes for a little

-He’s a man who is always on the move so being able to take time to relax is always important to him

-(One of my favorite things to do is take a nap on the couch with my cats and I’m insistent that this is a hobby lol)

*Bonus Faramir:

-I think he likes to draw

-He doesn’t really paint, but he likes to sketch with charcoal and pencils

-He carries around a little sketchbook so he can just sit somewhere and draw

-Boromir loves to see his brothers art because he is so proud of his little brother

[hoiststowline]

haunt

spinister x f!reader

Typically, unless necessary, he finds himself intervening in situations that he sees can be played out without his assistance. It's not laziness, lest he tells himself, but he's also not a mother and most certainly not a judge. Krok's the leader, he makes the tough decisions and has no time to deal with the shouting and-

Your door is open, stopping just shy of the entrance as many objects he doesn't know the name of bounce around the room. A shoe even flies out into the hallway, tossed by your hands as you scrounge around the room for something. You've gotten him intrigued in the least, taking a step forward and over the sneaker, now standing in your doorway.

"Everything okay-?" The question barely leaves him before a loud clang can be heard, not realizing you were underneath your bed, yanking things out and throwing them in all directions. At the sound of his voice, startled, the back of your head smacks the bed frame, loudly. Krok knows that hurts, so he masks his expression as best he can. 

"Ow..." He watches you slide out from under the mattress, an annoyed but upset pout to your lips. If he knew any better, you were distraught looking for something you could not find. "Have you seen my book?" 

The book in reference he knows quite well, the one Misfire teases is a diary, and the same that you have to find a new hiding spot for hourly because of the damn mechs that can't keep their servos to themselves. This isn't the first time it's gone missing, but it's the first instance where he's seen you near tears. "I haven't, no. I'm sure Misfire has it, y/n, I'll go get it from him."

"He doesn't, and neither does Crankcase or Fulcrum. It has to be in here then, but where, I don't-!" He observes as one of your palms comes to your chest as if to quell your heartbeat. "It's in here somewhere."

"What about Spinister?" It's the only member of the crew you have left to mention, and he thinks you know he has nothing to do with the stolen goods. Krok only knows it by its cover, the black marker doodles that litter the front, and how you always seem to have your nose in it during downtime. "You haven't asked him?" 

You swallow thickly, and to this, Krok finally laces the pieces together. "Ah. You don't know if he has it, but you're praying he doesn't."

"I'm so stupid to think I could keep a journal on a ship with teenagers at best." You groan, hand running the length of your face. It wasn't a diary, it had started as a daily log of sorts, something to keep your mind busy when you had some time to yourself. Over time, it had swayed into more of a sketchbook, little annotations littering the borders. There weren't obvious depictions of your in-house romance, or lack thereof, but one could draw a massive conclusion based on the hearts and smiley faces that cover page after page. 

"Yeah, that's kinda on you." He agrees, taking in the mess you've created in such a small space. "Look, you keep searching in here, and I'll go find Spinister. If I come back with the book, then you gotta figure your scrap out."

"Deal." You warble, shoulders drooping in defeat. At this, he backs out of the room, taking the hallway down to the central command, and then hanging a left towards Spinister's quarters. 

"Spinister can't even read Cybertronian, dude. You're fine," Misfire had said, shrugging his shoulder in indifference. "If he can read English before he can count to ten, I'll buy you seventeen journals."

While that was not reassuring in the slightest, your face comes to sit in your hands, sitting cross-legged on your bed. Maybe it was thrown out of an airlock, spinning in deep space and torched to nothing. You'd rather that than have to deal with your feelings prematurely. 

To Krok's surprise, Spinister was in his room, but fiddling with his gun and in his immediate survey, did not have your journal. The large mech blinks at him expectingly, as if beckoning him to state the reason for his visit. 

"Nothing." He lies, shuffling his weight from pede to pede in the entrance. "y/n lost an item of hers, I just wanted to ask if you had seen it perchance, but clearly you've been busy with this." 

"What is she missing?" It piques his interest, that's for certain, and Krok can't pinpoint if it's when he says your name, or that you had misplaced an object that remains unnamed. 

"Don't worry about it." Why he's instigating this further, he doesn't know, but he's decided to play matchmaker today. "I'll let her know you've been in your berthroom all cycle." 

At this, the marksman tosses his weapon on his desk, standing abruptly. "I'll go." Is all he says, and when Krok goes to ask where, he's already shouldering past him and heading down the hall toward your room. 

Now rummaging through your closet, you push aside fistfuls of clothing in the hopes it got tangled in there somewhere. Krok must've left your door open because upon hearing heavy footfalls, you jump back and stick your head towards the hall, optimistic that he had found it-

What you weren't expecting was Spinister to be standing there, his shadow bathing the room as his red optics scan the area, only stopping when they land on you, sitting on the floor. "Krok said you lost something." Is all he says, tilting his head to the side when he can't process the look on your face. 

"Yeah." You sniffle softly, leaning back on your hands as you realize this is the end, the damn thing had you entirely stumped. "I think I'm about to give up."

"Would you like help?" Your brow raises, moderately amused that he'd help look for something he has no idea what it is. 

"That's okay, thanks anyways. If you don't have it, and neither does anyone else, that means it's doomed to wherever it ended up." Relief washes over you in waves, pleased to find that Spinister did not have it, but it did mean that it was somewhere on this god-forsaken ship.

"Your room is a mess." He remarks, unsure of the last time he was in the space. "Did you do this?" 

"I did, trying to find my book." Spinister takes a hesitant step inside, and then another, eventually coming just shy of your feet before carefully lowering himself to the ground. "I'll clean it later. Maybe while I'm cleaning, I'll find it."

"I hope so." Once in a sitting position, he's much less intimidating, at least he anticipates. "I lose things all the time. Can't say I have great success in finding them, but I understand the feeling," 

Your smile makes him physically melt, and the first few times his processor couldn't properly translate the reason or purpose of the action. Now, he looks for it, waits for it, and every time it has the same never-ending reaction. "Well, next time, let me know. I'll help you look for whatever it is you've misplaced." 

"You-" At the mention of your lost book, Spinister knows exactly what you're referencing. Though typically most information leaves him at a certain point, he has that journal committed to memory, only because he's spent so much time staring at you across the room whilst you write within it. It's the only time he can do it without getting caught, or have others rag on him for it. 

Just out of the corner of his optic, something blue catches his eye, the edge sticking out from underneath your nightstand. "Found it." He announces, digit pointing towards it, and he watches with gratification as your eyes alight, gasping.

You jump to your feet, scrambling over to the side table to look beneath it, a squeal of happiness tumbling from your lips. "Spinister! You are a gem, thank you so much!"

"I'm not 'a gem', I'm Spinister," He drawls, eyeing you curiously. "But you're welcome."

"I know you're Spinister, Spinister." You laugh, opening your top drawer and stuffing the book inside, a hiding place that is overused but is remotely fine, for now. "But you saved me a lot of time and heartache. I owe you one." 

"Heartache?" Maybe you could have left that part out, but the words just tumbled out of your mouth naturally. "Is your heart in pain?" 

"No, no. I...a lot of my thoughts are in here, I guess is a good way of putting it. Stuff I'm not quite ready to share." The toe of your sneaker runs across the metal of the floor, unconfident in how to proceed. "It's the only thing that won't judge or criticize me."

"I wouldn't. Or won't. I know Misfire would, and probably Fulcrum." Spinister decides he likes your room, it's uniquely you, and he thinks the image of you standing within it is otherworldly, just by your presence. "But I won't."

"I appreciate that, thank you." You're smiling so hard your cheeks begin to hurt, enjoying the conversation even if it's coming rapidly to a conclusion. "I may have to take you up on that, someday."

Krok thinks you're crazy, having feelings for a mech who forgets what he's saying in the middle of a sentence, but he also knows that Spinister has the gentlest spark out of any of them. He's deadly, but none of that seems to matter to you, heavily impressed by his marksmanship and his surgical expertise. There are plenty of humans and mechs out there who'd be vying for your attention, and yet? Your heart was easily stolen by Spinister, and no one can figure out whether to commend and support you for it or try and break it to you in the gentlest way possible that it may be a poor choice. 

Spinister can't figure out what he did thirty seconds ago, how on Earth was he ever going to realize he was in love with you as well?

"You can, anytime," Spinister affirms, nodding his helm once. "I was cleaning my blaster. Wanna come?" 

There was little you could deny him, and he had no idea about any of it. "Yeah. I do, Spin. I would love that." 

[atommadly]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐃

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 ✓ not sure if you're down to explore this since it might be similar to 'sweetheart' but i've been trying to envision how jesse would react when she finds out y/n has a crush on harry. would it be: ㅡ "can't date my dad. my dad is off limits." similar to harry's comment on the sheer concept of cisco dating his daughter or ㅡ "as long as you also make him happy" maybe akin to harry's reaction when jesse said she wanted to stay with wally on earth-1 and y/n explaining that jesse shouldnt worry like "sure i have a crush on your dad but its not like he's into me" "who said i wasn't?" harry exclaims. y/n, jesse, team flash: :0

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | Harry Wells x Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | Miscommunication.

Masterlist

Why was everything so complicated?

Was it really too much to ask for a normal life? Just a few years ago, you were a cybersecurity analyst, spending your days trying to stop viruses from infecting the systems of the company you worked for. You lived a simple, straightforward life. It was predictable. It was manageable.

But now? Now, you were working with Flash—yes, the actual Flash—running rogue operations for Star Labs. You were breaking the law every time you helped them, hacking into some of the city's most secure systems, tracking down metahumans, and sometimes even opening portals to different dimensions. Not exactly your idea of a “normal” day at the office.

And to be honest, that was almost manageable, too. There was something exciting about the chaos. Cisco was your partner in crime, and together, you helped Barry with his mission, making sense of the bizarre world of metahumans and fighting the occasional villain of the week. The people at Star Labs, Barry, Cisco, Caitlin—they had become your family. They made the insanity feel almost… normal. Well, as normal as it could be.

But then, everything changed. Zoom came. And with him, Harry.

Harry Wells was another version of the Harrison Wells you’d known before. This one wasn’t a villain in disguise for example. But he was still strict, sarcastic, and cold.

And yet, from the very beginning, you found yourself drawn to him. There was something about the way he carried himself, something almost magnetic in the way he spoke, even if it was often sharp or dismissive. He wasn’t easy to get close to, but for some reason, that made you want to try even harder. You couldn’t quite explain it, but every time he walked into the room, your attention was pulled to him like a compass pointing north.

But things only got more complicated when you learned about his daughter, Jesse. The look in his eyes when he talked about her, the fierce determination, and the depth of his love for her—it was impossible to ignore. He would do anything to protect her, to save her from the horrors of Zoom. And that, in itself, was enough to make your heart ache for him.

Harry had been on Earth-1 for four months, working alongside you and the rest of Team Flash to stop Zoom and save Jesse. Those months were the strangest, most thrilling of your life. And through it all, Harry became more than just a teammate. There was something about the way he began to soften around you, the way he looked at you differently as time went on.

There was a warmth to Harry that you hadn’t seen when he first arrived. It was as if, despite his strict demeanor and his constant focus on the mission, you were the one person who could pull him out of his shell.

You and Harry would exchange glances across the room, your eyes meeting in fleeting moments when the others weren’t looking. It was always subtle, never enough to draw attention, but it was there—the tension that neither of you spoke about. You’d find yourself looking for any excuse to be near him, whether it was to help with a project, to share a quiet conversation, or just to sit next to him during brief moments of downtime. You had no idea what he thought of you, but you could feel the pull. You wondered if maybe he felt the same.

But no matter how strong that connection was, there was always something else that stood in the way. Harry’s mission. Jesse. Zoom. The stakes were too high. You both knew it. And so, the tension between you remained unspoken, unresolved. Every day, you waited, wondering if today would be the day that something would shift, if Harry would finally open up or if you would find the courage to tell him how you felt. But the timing never seemed right. Not when the world was still at risk, not when Jesse’s life was in constant danger.

Eventually, you succeeded in saving Jesse. The relief you felt was overwhelming, and you were genuinely happy for Harry and his daughter. Their reunion was heartwarming, a moment that made the constant fear and exhaustion of the fight worthwhile. The way he looked at her, the fierce protectiveness in his eyes, reminded you once again why you had fallen for him. He loved his daughter more than anything and would do whatever it took to keep her safe.

But the threat of Zoom wasn’t over, not entirely. Even with Jesse free from his grasp, the shadow of danger loomed over them. Harry made the difficult decision to keep Jesse on Earth-1, away from the life she had known, where Zoom’s reach couldn’t touch her. It was a choice made out of love, but it came at a heavy cost.

Jesse struggled with it from the start. Losing her home, her friends, and the life she had built on Earth-2 wasn’t easy. She was uprooted and transplanted into a world that wasn’t hers, surrounded by people she barely knew. You could see the frustration in her eyes, the sadness she tried to hide but couldn’t completely mask. 

Harry was struggling deeply with the situation, and more often than not, he sought comfort in you. You became his anchor, the one person he could confide in when the weight of it all became too much. Whether it was late-night conversations in the lab or quiet moments over coffee, you were there to listen. He shared his worries about Jesse, his fears about failing her, and the guilt that seemed to cling to him no matter how much he sacrificed.

You offered him everything you could—advice when he needed it, reassurance when his self-doubt crept in, and a steady presence when the storm around him felt too strong. You encouraged him to talk to Jesse, to be honest with her about his feelings, and to try to bridge the growing gap between them. He listened, even if he didn’t always know how to act on it. But he appreciated you—more than he ever said aloud.

Sometimes, Jesse would watch you both from a distance. She wasn’t oblivious; she saw the way you and her father interacted, the way your gazes lingered just a moment too long, the subtle shifts in your voices when you spoke to each other. She noticed how you seemed to understand him in a way that few people did, how he softened ever so slightly around you. It wasn’t hard to see the connection building between you, even if neither of you had said anything about it.

But Jesse didn’t know how to feel about it. Her father was everything to her—he was all she had left. After losing her mother, she had seen firsthand the toll it had taken on him. He had closed himself off, retreating into his work, throwing himself into protecting her with a fierceness that often left him isolated. She didn’t think he’d ever let himself love again after that. It wasn’t just about you, specifically. Jesse couldn’t stand the idea of her father being hurt again.

Because inevitably, she thought, it would happen. No matter how close you and Harry seemed, you didn’t belong in their world. Sooner or later, they’d have to return to Earth-2. That was their home, not this strange, temporary life on Earth-1. When that day came, Jesse was convinced you’d break her father’s heart. It wasn’t out of malice—it was just the way things were. You’d stay behind, and Harry would go back to his old life, left with nothing but memories and regret.

Jesse couldn’t let that happen. She loved her father too much to let him risk everything for something that felt doomed from the start. And the more she watched the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the more determined she became to put an end to it before it could go any further.

One evening, you were working late in the lab, your focus glued to your laptop as you tweaked a new security system for STAR Labs. You were deep in concentration, fingers flying over the keyboard, when you heard a soft voice behind you.

“Hey.”

You startled slightly, lifting your head to see Jesse standing a few steps away, looking hesitant. She wasn’t usually one to hang around the lab this late, so her presence caught you off guard.

“Oh, hi,” you said, blinking at her. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

She stepped closer, her arms crossed over her chest. “What are you working on?”

You gestured to the screen. “Oh, just reprogramming the security systems. I created a new line of code to optimize the motion detectors, and I’m building an app so we can get alerts for any intrusions directly on our phones. It should save us a lot of time.”

Jesse tilted her head slightly, her lips twitching into a faint, almost amused smile. “You sound like my dad.”

You chuckled, a little nervously. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

There was a moment of silence, and you noticed the way Jesse shifted on her feet, her gaze flickering from you to the floor and back again. She was hesitating, which wasn’t like her. Jesse was usually straightforward, rarely one to hold back. Whatever was on her mind, it was something big.

“Speaking of my dad…” she started, her voice soft but steady. Her eyes locked on yours, and you felt a sudden tension settle in the room. “Y/N, I’ve noticed you’re… close to him.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you froze, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. This was it. The moment you’d been dreading. Was she going to ask you if you liked him? If you had feelings for him? And if she did, what would you even say? You weren’t ready for this conversation, not now, not ever.

Jesse took another step closer, her expression hardening. “Actually, I don’t like it.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you stared at her, stunned. You hadn’t expected that. Not the bluntness of it, nor the sudden coldness in her tone.

“Whatever you’re thinking, whatever you feel for him,” she continued, her voice firm now, “stop. Just… stop.”

You swallowed hard, your mind scrambling for a response, but no words came. You just sat there, staring at her, trying to process what she’d said.

She wasn’t finished. “Look, I know my dad can be… intense. And I know he trusts you, which is rare for him. But he’s been through enough. We’ve been through enough. And I can’t let you—” She paused, her voice faltering slightly before she straightened her shoulders and met your gaze head-on. “You can’t date my dad. My dad is off limits.”

With that, she turned on her heel and walked out, leaving you alone and stunned. The words echoed in your mind, sharp and heavy. You sat frozen for what felt like minutes, trying to process what had just happened. Jesse’s bluntness, her unwavering determination—it all left you reeling.

That night, sleep was impossible. You lay awake, staring at the ceiling, turning her words over and over in your mind. You can’t date my dad. It wasn’t just a demand; it was a line drawn in the sand, one you hadn’t even realized you were approaching.

The truth was, you loved Harry. There was no denying it, not to yourself. What you felt for him was real and overwhelming. It wasn’t some fleeting crush; it was deeper than that, something pure and unshakable. But the fact that Jesse had forbidden you from being with him broke something inside you. It hurt, and that hurt quickly gave way to anger.

What right does she have to tell me who I can and can’t love? you thought bitterly. But as quickly as the anger came, it was replaced by understanding. Jesse wasn’t just being possessive or unreasonable. She had lost her mother, and that kind of loss left scars. Maybe she wasn’t ready for her father to move on, to let someone else into his life. Maybe she was afraid of seeing him hurt again.

And the harsh reality was that she wasn’t entirely wrong. Neither you nor Harry had ever said how you felt to one another. You’d danced around it, lived in the tension of unspoken words, but neither of you had been brave enough to cross that line. What if Jesse was right? What if this thing between you was doomed to fail before it even began? What if starting something only to watch it fall apart would hurt Harry more than either of you could bear?

The thought left you hollow. You cared about Jesse’s well-being, and you respected her enough to take her words seriously, no matter how much they stung. So, you made a decision. As much as it hurt, as much as it tore at your heart, you would put Jesse first. You would give her the time she needed to heal and adjust. For now, that meant keeping your distance from Harry.

It wasn’t easy. The next day, when Harry walked into the lab, his sharp eyes scanning the room before landing on you, your instinct was to smile, to greet him as you always did. But you stopped yourself, offering only a curt nod before diving into your work. It wasn’t much, but even that small restraint felt like a monumental effort. You avoided lingering in conversations, kept your interactions strictly professional, and found excuses to leave the room whenever things grew too comfortable between you.

You could feel his confusion. He wasn’t blind; he noticed the shift in your behavior almost immediately. You could see it in the way his brows furrowed, the way his tone softened when he called your name, as if asking silently, What’s wrong?But you couldn’t bring yourself to explain. What could you say? That his daughter had forbidden you from even thinking about him that way? That you were stepping back, not because you wanted to, but because it was the only thing you could do to keep the fragile balance intact?

So, you buried your feelings, swallowing the ache in your chest every time he looked at you like he wanted to understand, like he needed to understand. 

At first, Jesse was relieved that you had taken her words to heart and respected her wishes. She had expected to feel triumphant, as though she had protected something precious. But as the days turned into weeks, she began to see the ripple effect of her decision—and the weight of its consequences.

She saw it in you first. You weren’t the same. The spark in your eyes, the quick wit and humor that always brightened the lab, was fading. It was subtle at first—your smiles didn’t quite reach your eyes, and your laughter sounded just a little hollow. But soon, even the energy you brought to your work seemed to wane. You still gave your all, but Jesse noticed the difference. It was like you were carrying a weight you couldn’t set down, and every day it dragged you a little lower.

But what truly shook her was how her father was affected. Harry wasn’t one to wear his emotions on his sleeve, but Jesse had grown up with him; she could read him like a book. The confusion in his eyes every time you left the room, the hesitance in his steps when he moved toward you, only to stop himself. He looked like a man who was lost, unsure of what he’d done wrong but too afraid to ask.

When you weren’t around, Harry’s behavior only made things clearer. Jesse often overheard him asking Cisco or Caitlin where you were or if you were coming back to the lab soon. His questions were casual on the surface, but his voice carried an unmistakable edge of longing. And every time he got an answer he didn’t want to hear—Oh, Y/N left for the day, or She’s working remotely this week—his face would fall just a little. Jesse could see it, even when he tried to hide it behind his usual gruff demeanor.

It hit her like a punch to the chest: she had done this. By asking you to stay away, she had hurt not just you, but her father too. The connection between you two was undeniable. Her dad didn’t just trust you; he relied on you. He looked at you the way she imagined he must have looked at her mom once, with a softness that she had rarely seen. And now, thanks to her, that light in his eyes was dimming.

The guilt grew heavier with each passing day. Jesse couldn’t help but reflect on who you were—the way you treated her, the way you had supported her father through everything. You weren’t just brilliant at what you did; you were kind, funny, and endlessly patient. You had never once treated Jesse like a burden, even when she was at her most difficult.

And now, despite how much it clearly hurt you, you had respected her wishes. You had stepped back, even though it was breaking your heart. It was clear to her now that you weren’t some fleeting crush or a distraction. You cared about Harry deeply, and from the way he was falling apart, it was obvious that he felt the same about you.

Jesse regretted everything. She had been so caught up in her own fears and insecurities that she hadn’t stopped to consider what her dad needed, what made him happy. And it was painfully clear that you made him happy.

One evening, after watching her father retreat to his workshop for the third time that week, his expression heavier than she’d ever seen it, Jesse made up her mind. She couldn’t stand to see him like this anymore. She had to fix what she had broken.

Late the next morning, Team Flash gathered in the speed lab for a training session. You had been busy working on a new diagnostic program but decided to drop in and see if there was anything you could help with.

Stepping into the lab, you scanned the room, your mind already buzzing with ideas. Before you could ask Cisco or Caitlin what they needed, Jesse entered as well. She spotted you almost immediately and walked toward you with purpose.

“Y/N, can I talk to you?” she asked, her tone hesitant but serious.

Your stomach flipped. Out of instinct, you shot a quick glance at Caitlin and Cisco, the two people you’d confided in about your complicated feelings for Harry. Caitlin gave you a small, reassuring smile, silently encouraging you to go. With a quiet nod, you followed Jesse to a quieter corner of the room, near a cluster of technological equipment Barry used for his speed tests.

Jesse stopped and turned to face you, fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. “Y/N, I… I wanted to talk about my dad.”

Your breath hitched, but you tried to play it cool. “Don’t worry,” you said quickly. “I’ve been keeping my distance, just like you asked.”

Her eyes darted to the floor for a moment before she met your gaze again. “Yeah, um… about that. I wanted to say I’m sorry for asking you to do that.”

You blinked, taken aback. “You’re… sorry?”

Jesse nodded, her expression conflicted. “I was scared. My dad doesn’t open up easily, you know? And when I saw how close you two were, I thought it wasn’t serious. I was worried you might hurt him—whether you meant to or not.” She hesitated, her voice dropping. “He hasn’t been the same since my mom died. It was hard watching him go through that, and I couldn’t bear the thought of him getting hurt like that again.”

Her words hit you like a weight to the chest. You swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. “I understand,” you said softly, feeling a deep empathy for her.

“But now,” Jesse continued, her voice steadying, “I see how much this is hurting him. And it’s hurting you too. I’m sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have interfered. If you want to… I don’t know… date my dad, I won’t stop you anymore. As long as you make him happy, that’s all I care about.”

For a moment, you just stared at her, processing everything she had just said. The apology, the admission, the weight of her trust—it was all a lot to take in.

“Thank you, Jesse,” you said finally, your voice wavering with emotion. “That means a lot to me. I… I really do care about your dad. I love him, actually. But…” You hesitated, unsure if you should admit the rest.

“But what?” Jesse prompted, her brows furrowing.

You gave a small, bittersweet smile. “We’ve been circling each other for months, and nothing has ever happened. I don’t think he feels the same way."

Before Jesse could respond, another voice cut through the air, making your heart stop.

“Who said I didn’t?”

You froze. Slowly, you turned toward the source of the voice, and there he was—Harry. He was crouched behind the equipment just a few feet away. He had been working on something, but judging by the look on his face, he’d heard every word of your conversation.

Your cheeks flushed bright red. “Harry?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop,” he said, his voice steady yet laced with a hint of vulnerability. “But I need to correct something.”

Behind you, the chatter in the Speed Lab had come to a halt. Team Flash, ever nosy, had shifted their focus entirely to your conversation, watching the scene unfold with wide-eyed interest.

Harry took another step toward you, his intense gaze locking with yours. “I feel the same way, Y/N,” he admitted, his voice dropping lower. “I’ve felt it for months. I just—” He hesitated, his fingers flexing slightly at his sides. “I’m not good with words when it comes to… feelings. And I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Jesse stood nearby, a knowing smile spreading across her face. “Ooookay,” she said, raising her hands and stepping back with a playful smirk. “I think that’s my cue to leave. You two need some privacy.”

With that, she spun on her heel and walked out, leaving you and Harry alone. The tension in the air was almost tangible, thick with all the words that had finally been spoken and the ones still hanging between you.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him, your heart pounding like a drum. “Is it true?” you asked softly, your voice trembling.

“Yes,” he said firmly, his expression softening as his lips curved into a small smile. “I love you, Y/N.”

The world seemed to freeze at his words. For months, you’d dreamed of hearing them, but now that they were real, they felt even more overwhelming. “You… love me?”

“I do,” he said, stepping closer until there was barely any space left between you. “I’ve loved you for so long, and I’ve been a fool to keep it to myself.”

Before you could say another word, Harry reached out, gently cupping your face with his hands. The touch was tender, his calloused fingers warm against your skin. Then, without hesitation, he leaned in and kissed you.

The kiss was soft and hesitant at first, but it deepened as the weight of all your unspoken feelings melted away. You felt yourself sinking into him, your hands instinctively clutching his arms for balance as the world around you disappeared.

Behind you, the Speed Lab erupted in cheers and whoops of joy. Cisco’s loud exclamation of “Finally!” was followed by Caitlin’s laughter and Barry’s playful claps.

“About time!” Cisco added, his voice brimming with satisfaction.

But none of it mattered. The noises, the world—it all faded into the background. All you could feel was Harry, his arms around you, and the overwhelming sense of happiness that flooded your chest.

[emmg]

Okay, but hear me out: a fic where Ketheric meets someone at Moonrise—maybe a servant, a soldier, idk—and they just happen to look exactly like his dead wife. And of course, because Ketheric is completely stable and definitely not still grief stricken a million years later, things start getting weird real fast. Like, he just casually asks this poor soul to pretend to be Melodia during his downtime. Not for anything grand, mind you—just for the most random, mundane stuff.

Imagine Ketheric watching them brush their hair with Melodia’s brush, making them wear her clothes and jewelry—but only while they’re in her room, because apparently, that's where he draws the line. Then he’s sitting next to them while they read Melodia’s books or recite her favorite Selûnite prayers like it’s a totally normal Tuesday.

He starts correcting her. Every. Single. Time. Maybe her intonation’s just a little off, or she has the wrong accent, and suddenly Ketheric’s all upset because apparently that’s a dealbreaker in his undead-wife-reenactment fantasy. Meanwhile, this poor person is just stuck there, trying to appease him, because they’re all in on the Absolute and this half-elf general is basically the closest thing to their goddess. Like, what’re they gonna do, say no to the guy who’s practically their divine rep?

Maybe she doesn’t wear her hair the right way, or her nails aren’t painted the way Melodia’s were. She’s either too much of something or not enough of another, and Ketheric’s just stewing in his creepy, dead-wife-obsessed trauma, while this person is desperately trying not to screw up again.

And, naturally, this turns into a full-blown deranged obsession while the person slowly loses all sense of who they are because they’re too busy becoming Mrs. Dead Wife 2.0. The potential for some peak-level angst and overall unsettling vibes is immaculate. Someone please write this—or I will, just to stop it from haunting my brain.

[iamthecomet]

-swings in-

I have a little story time for you today.

About a week or so ago, I went to the mountains with some of my friends (had about eight people packed into one house and managed not to destroy each other), and during the downtime on night one we were discussing art and showing not telling in terms of how actions and spaces could tell you about a character's personality etc.

Anyway, at some point, we got onto the topic of drawing/writing what you want and how it's okay to just roll with something and let it pan out as it will without stopping or editing, stream of consciousness stuff, ya know?

Well, a couple of my friends know my, uh, preferences, but I would say a majority of them do not.

One of these friends was on this trip and learned in real time that I write cryptid boning content and then had to reconcile with that knowledge for the next two days lmao

What's funnier, is that they went, "Wait, so Lamp is into that??" and two of my friends were, like, "It's Lamp."

Mind you I'm not at all secretive about my preferences in terms of what I find attractive irl, none of my group is really, but I tend to be a bit more "reserved" with that stuff in that it doesn't come up that often/at all for the most part.

However.

However...

One of the friends who chimed in... did not know about the cryptid boning content.

They just looked at me at some point and were like, "No, no that tracks. They would fuck a monster given the chance."

This was a casual, two second exchange that veered into the topic of what movie we were gonna watch (Spirited Away), and I think it says something about my friend group that we can discuss stuff like this openly without any real judgement, just a, "Oh, neat." kind of attitude.

But now they know.

They know.

...We also learned who out of the group has had sex and how recently, so there's that, too.

These topics are unrelated.

-looks away-

Anyway, how have you been?

Hi Lamp!! I love your storytimes! Sounds like an eventful weekend. I do love dropping random lore on friends who are not expecting it--but also yeah now they know. It's so lovely to have friends you can discuss those things with though. I love when "taboo" topics just become casual conversation. That's how you know you really do vibe with someone--that this friendship is legit. It's also always entertaining to get to that point. Just sort of whittling away at the borders until there's nothing and you can just talk about whatever the fuck you want. I also love that no one was surprised. Because, of course not. Turns out there are "warning signs" about liking monster fucking haha. I've been good. Real life is busy and overwhelming sometimes, but I am much better than I was a year (and even 6 months) ago so THAT'S GOOD. Went skating with a friend today. I used to skate a lot--but haven't in like fifteen years. We went last weekend too, and it took a minute but your body really does not forget how to do some things, which is really remarkable. It was a lot of fun. I have forgotten how to skate backwards and I am not as effortlessly steady as I used to be, but I'm hoping to have a lot more ice time this winter to work on both of those things.

[open-hearth-rpg]

#RPGaDay2024

An accessory you'd like to see

The accessory I’d like is probably one I need to write up myself. There’s probably versions out there– but I want to shape this to how I run. A while back I wrote up a list of 100 'kingdom events' (Part 1, Part 2) . I intended to use these to generate incidents when “time passes” in Legacy and Free from the Yoke games. I want something like that for cities. 

For each entry on these lists, I had a set of questions. I might do the same here. But I’d like each result to have a 1d6 of additional details, to give further complexion. For example, A Sinkhole Appears would have 1) Of mysterious origin 2) Magical aftershock 3) Failed public works 4) Criminal malfeasance 5) Natural disaster 6) Monstrous activity. 

You’d roll a die to see the scale of the incident: 1) House 2) Street 3) Neighborhood 4) Important Site 5) District 6) City Wide. In this case scale would be the reach of the consequences and how much attention it garners. Then you’d have a table to determine which faction or factions is involved with the situation. 

Then I’d have those collaborative questions which the GM can answer or open up to the table. 

It seems like you could get at least a hundred interesting ideas. Just off the top of my head– riot, sewage overflow, plague, strange postings, omens, caravan arrival, holiday, martyr, public punishment, etc. 

I’d want to write it broadly enough to be useful across fantasy and semi-fantasy settings. I’m running Blades in the Dark right now, so it would be a useful thing to generate some additional background color to have during downtime. You could also wrap that into the Fallout phase. 

I have some great books for city stuff, like the Citybook series. But they’re often a little too focused on the vibe and feel of a particular series. For example, I really dig Into the Cess & Citadel, but it has a specific city and ethos it is going for. Or they are tied tightly into the play assumptions of the game. Like Campaign Builder: Cities & Towns is fixed firmly on D&D and similar games. It has random generators, but they’re more focused on encounters. 

I can also imagine retooling this for a superhero, urban fantasy, or cyberpunk. My fav citybook– though it doesn’t deal with background happenings in the city– is Augmented Reality. It would be great to combine the feel & atmosphere generation of that with a generator to make the city feel alive. As with most random tables and generators, it’s mostly a way of creating inspiration. I only rarely roll/draw/generate a result with these things. Instead I usually go through them before a session to prime my imagination. 

Might also use these to generate a couple of things which have happened recently in the city– events which might have an aftermath. Alternately generate three things coming down the pipeline and then foreshadow them in play.

[mikecardenmpreg]

for the next cruise, which has already been scheduled but does not yet have a lineup announced, here are my suggestions:

book a boat with bigger or more pools, OR find another way to setup a pool deck stage that doesn't literally cover up one of the pools

more activities that aren't day drinking or just shows that are also FREE. yeah there was bingo (paid) and like emo trivia or whatever, but most of my downtime was spent wandering around doing fuck all. a lot of the activities were late night activities too, after all the bands played. idk about y'all but i was tired and was not about to go do more stuff after a late night show. moving those late night activities to the day time would be better

warped tour style scheduling. have some bands do late morning/early afternoon sets, like 11a-2p so a) acts could be more spread out during the day and b) so there's something to fucking do during the day

maybe don't have soco finish their set at the exact time tai starts theirs. the venn diagram of soco and tai fans is almost a circle and a lot of people felt like they had to choose. and most chose soco and arrived late for tai's set and they werent too happy about missing parts of tai's set and not getting good seating. with so much time in the day where literally nothing is happening, maybe don't schedule headliners back to back like that (also don't underestimate tai's pull! they were a huge draw for a lot of people on that boat)

prioritize merch! all of the merch sold out day 1, and almost everyone i talked to didn't even get to see the merch that was being sold (for all artists, not just tai)! i get there were probably limitations due to storage, but seriously?

don't close one of the free dining options and not offer a substitute? the fuck? like yeah the one buffet was awesome but a little overserved because there were supposed to be 3 free dining options but there ended up only being 2 and the other one had like 5 menu options. so basically we had one dining option for 3000 people. and yes there were other restaurants but they were an additional charge and extremely expensive!

the gym wasnt a private room where you could work out in peace. it was a sales pitch with treadmills. 0/10

why did i pay $600 for an unlimited drink package but i couldn't get a vodka red bull? oh i have to upgrade to the PREMIUM unlimited drink package for an additional $1000? just for a red bull? no thanks.

girl just give us the wifi. that should just be included with the stateroom.

[des-no9]

Des! DES!!! Shaking you most rabidly especially as I just got to see Vanquish on the Githmap! This is a question I've had in mind for a while but didn't want to ask you since I KNOW it can be super hard task to describe and I wasn't sure you had thought about it much : What do you imagine Githyanki dances across history and artistic movements to be like? What limbs do you think they focus on? Is it quick rounds but impressive performance or endurance based? What kind of individual and collective formations would there be? Who dances with who if relevant? What peoples on Earth do you draw inspiration from in your head?

I know I know many questions all at once, apologies, but exploring fictional dances makes me very excited oops.

Omg okay NO I'M SO GLAD YOU ASKED this has for some reason been on my mind a lot. It stemmed from thinking about Vanquish asking Voss about githyanki dance culture and asking him to show her some. And Voss being so old, he's known what they've had from the beginning, those lost now, some that only live on in him maybe, and he's learned so many through his lifetime.

Anyway.

Okay. I'll kind of start from the beginning with thoughts in their slavery under the ghaik at maybe the possibility of dance, movement and community there.

Githyanki, and dance

note: this is very long!!!! enjoy x

Githyanki, then

I think a lot about what possibility of their community they could have had, what it could have been during then beneath the ghaik. I like to HC that it was probably quite different depending on what colony you were in, what purpose you served, how big it was etc. A larger colony probably had a little more freedom in 'community'. A smaller community is much easier to govern stricter from above. Tighter leashes.

But still, colonies where the githyanki (I'll use that term for them even if they weren't that during that period) were used for bodyguards and bred to fight, yes the ghaik would command them to do as such, but training them to understand fighting separate from commands, to stop bodies atrophying and for their bodies to understand the movements for innate reactions, the githyanki would have trained together.

Potentially from this in any down time they had, or even during their training, they could have developed some sort of dance from their fighting techniques. A way for them to detach from what they know they have to do, to something more pleasurable. For them, and them alone.

Now I'm just speculating at the amount of control the ghaik had over them in their slavery and thralldom. I'm sure there were many varying degrees of control in many situations. Many a small constant to know you are leashed. And then full control for shorter periods when necessary.

And I know there are people that understand when under abuse or slavery after so long, and being giving freedoms, sometimes you cannot, or won't leave.

Anyway, from this period what I'm trying to visualise is that maybe they constructred dance, a dance, various dances, from their training during fighting.

Something that could be easily hidden. Something that was only theirs. Something that could be practiced on 'downtime' and easily covered up as sparring, but when alone and the wrong eyes looked away, the right eyes looking on, it was art and beauty and love and laughter.

With dances like this, I think a lot clearly about the motions and movement of capoeira.

Githyanki, free

Looking at the other side, the other colonies that maybe unlike the martial ones, or the larger ones (I HC Voss was from a martial one, but a smaller, strict, and quite horrific one. #1 blorbo must suffer) and I think sometimes about the fact that maybe a lot of newly annointed githyanki weren't used to touch.

Touch in a gentle way, affectionate way. A mutual way. A wanted way. Maybe many had never touched another body other than their own, or an enemies. Maybe they'd never seen their reflection but in the mud stained blood stained puddle they'd been ordered in their head to run over can't stop can't stop-

I like thinking a lot about in the early days of githyanki for maybe a large section of them was discovering their own bodies. The bodies of their kin. What it really felt like to touch someone and laugh and feel something other than rage and fear and pain. Joy and life and love.

Those from the larger martial colonies who had dance, maybe started to offer a way to help them explore this through their dance. And so from this, new githyanki dance(s) evolved.

Exploration. Intimacy. Curiosity. Joy. Intensity.

I see a lot of these dances maybe initially being led by the more knowledgable partner. Letting the more inexperienced and curious one feel the other's body through the moves of dance. Slow, often. Lots of continual body contact. Barely any clothing. Lots of movement of limbs to understand their movement in dance and outside of 'normal' functions. See what your body can do! Let me show you! I visualise a lot of the movements and motion here with ballet. Especially modern ballet. Ballet dancing movement for githyanki just fits for me.

I think there would be so much reconnection for the githyanki at this period of time with their bodies. I have HCs that there could/would be some physicaly variation in the githyanki at this period too, depending on which colony they came from. So dances like these would be wonderful for different looking githyanki physically to explore one another's bodies and differences and connect, that even if we look different, you bled to kill, I to breed, we are kin.

Those who would be githzerai

Another area I was thinking about in regard to this was those who started to fall in with Zerthimon. Those who followed his teachings, and eventually became the githzerai. I even think here about Orpheus and his honour guard because in essence they fight as monks. (and then I HC Orpheus as Zerth and Gith's son and a whole thing anyway lmao).

Originally, those in the martial colonies I think would have really loved the capoeira style of dance and developed that even further within their fighting and dancing style. Some may say when watching a graceful monk fight it is between dance and violence. When watching some of the more power punch heavy ones fight though, that's pure strength that you can feel rattle your teeth.

I don't think as much about githzerai as I do githyanki (a failing on my part I know lmao) but I think maybe one of their styles of dance is quite similar to the Indian classical dance of Kathak. I just like thinking about it a lot as a form of storytelling and maybe this is a way the githzerai enjoy telling stories in a place where there is more of a family presence and also the passage of time, unlike the Astral Sea. Also there is a lot of upper body and arm movement in Kathak and monks and githzerai = punchy lads.

I also think a lot about githzerai having a lot dances that you can do solo, in contrast to the githyanki who have a lot more dances you do with someone, or even more than one person. That physical connection with someone else feels to me like a source of such integral just, being for githyanki. Whereas githzerai maybe it's a little more different.

Githyanki, now

I think the initial dance of exploration of body has survived in the githyanki to now, in that it has evolved in different ways throughout the years. This intense intimacy of a cotninual body contact dance. Not once letting go of each other as we dance together. Our bodies as one, experience teaching inexperience. Let me bleed into you and give you what I know.

Maybe as the githyanki grew more detached from community, family, love - as Vlaakith I took power and the further Vlaakiths cemented their power and ideologies to now as we see the githyanki of today, the dances changed. Grew rougher. Maybe with more violence.

I think maybe even some took something sacred like this and took it into their raiding culture and turned it brutal.

For example, capturing an istik you are unfamiliar with, and exploring their new body without consent with this dance in-front of all your githyanki friends at the raid. What is the istik going to do? But it feels very raiding culture githyanki thing to do. Especially if you do not know or understand the origins of the dance in a way that someone like Voss would understand it. Maybe the origins of it is lost, hidden, forbidden, warped. For something like that is SO long in terms of history. Far over a thousand years. Just think about something over a thousand years in our history. Accuracy? Forget it.

Other types of dances for githyanki that exist now I think would be: For solo, I think they'd do something like fancy sword dancing? I remember seeing a video of a guy doing this insanely beautiful sensual dance with his sword and I thought.......githyanki lol. Like the githyanki fighters treat their silver swords like an extension of their own bodies. I really think they'd have a dance that would show that. All grace and fluidity and lots of skin showing for the danger.

Also if they're a gish maybe they would fire dance, or use magic in some way. I just think githyanki love to show off lol. And skirt with danger a lot. Also fire is associated a lot with their dragons. They're comfortable with it.

Foreplay. Now, I think a lot about githyanki sex (clearly from 2 secs on my blog). And a lot of the young, wild raiders are in and out (lmao) or rough and wild and don't give a fuck. Trophy istiks. Take and you're mine. Blood and fuck. Maybe some older ones too. Especially with modern githyanki with the way they have all been twisted and turned into a cultish society by Vlaakith(s) and their creche system and the void of family and nurturing community and the inability to spell love.

But, the githyanki aren't a monolith. They are spread wide and far and pockets of creches in different planes and some grow at different paces and anomolies in ages (Voss lol) and different hearts and heads and then Orpheus is back and a rebellion has been slow brewing as long as Orpheus has been in chains and and--

what I'm trying to say is that there are probably so many different styles and dances that vary by creche and region and even Tu'narath style for X dance compared to Githmir style or Creche T'lak style and I could go on.

And then there are githyanki that love foreplay. That agonising, but beautiful build up to when there is nothing in these planes but my skin your skin the taste of your blood and mine.

Dance is foreplay.

I thnk a variation of the 'explore and understand your body' has DEFINITELY survived and turned into this. And maybe the leader/more dominant urges their partner to dance and touch and move where on their body they like to be touched, want to be touched, never breaking contact, but not touching their partner with hands until sex. Just body to body, hands free. Maybe brushing together as they move. But no hands to body. Just body, to body. Show me how you move. Let your body move in ways you didn't know. See corners of mine you didn't.

The above is what I was thinking about a lot with Voss and Vanquish and what Voss teaches her. This and the original dance he learned as a newly annointed githyanki. Voss was one of the ones who needed to learn his, and others bodies, and this dance means a lot to him, and he's kept the original close and deep in his heart and sharing the original with Vanquish is a Real Moment for him. Exposing and probably another way to say "I'm letting you in, istik no more".

Side note, githyanki with partners who aren't githyanki I think also like using the body exploring dance a lot as a bonding experience. But I HC githyanki just innately have much less hangups about their bodies than istik do, so it might take a little bit of build up or stepping stones to get the full githyanki dance experience. But when they do.... :3

Okay I think I have rambled A LOT about githyanki dancing and I think that covers some of the ideas I had LOL. I hoped you and anyone else who read this enjoyed. It was an absolute delight to write. As it always is to write any githyanki HC and worldbuilding.

-Des x

[captainmazzic]

The memorial went well, extended family has been visited, and I am back from my hometown. My gamer cousin is actually TWO gamer cousins, which is fabulous even if neither of them play SWTOR. XD

I have tomorrow off of work but I go back to the usual on Sunday, which... bleh... but I DID get a lot of writing done in my downtime during the trip. Next chapter of Opening Dialogue is almost finished, but... I uh... I might have started yet ANOTHER fic in the process.

It's one of my older outlines that I've never done anything with, but one of the characters in it is showing up in Opening Dialogue and I love him very very very much. I don't have many actual Empire Sith, he is a delightful and unsettling monster of a man and very different than writing Adrestin and company XD

Relatedly, I know a handful of people were annoyed that I yanked the story about Sirdae and Vialis, so if you liked those two you'll probably like this new guy's story as well. I want to finish this one completely before I post it so I won't have a repeat of what happened before lol. I'm fixing to draw him and another character he interacts with tomorrow, and then work on more writing.

p.s. I know most of you are here for the fanart of Maul or Thrawn instead of the OCs, and I DO intend on drawing Actually Popular Characters (tm) again soon, IswearIcanchangepleasedon'tleaveme

[buglvr24]

i’m just making this post because there are thoughts in my brain i need to write down. i’m sure it won’t sound as fancy as i want it to because it’s my ramblings and i’m sure most of this has been said before but oh well. personally with the way i see the world there is no grand reason why we were put on this earth. that does not make our short lives meaningless. there is so much meaning if you know where to look. and i think so much of that meaning is found in each other.

i am an intern at an accounting firm. a lot of my job includes simple but necessary tasks, but i like to joke that my official job description is to spread joy and whimsy. in other words i got comfortable enough in my job to just be myself. i make silly drawings on sticky notes during my breaks. most are stuck up on my desk but some i have given to coworkers. they aren’t anything super artistic but they are from the heart.

at one point i was given a task that was essentially waiting for things to be downloaded. this gave me several minutes of boring downtime. i started making origami during that time. mostly cranes, but sometimes other things. i started hiding them around the office. at first there was a little voice in my head reminding me that i was an adult working an office job. but then coworkers started telling me how much they loved my origami. how it brightened their day when they found a new crane hiding among the office supplies. maybe it really is the little things. when one of the older accountants was out for surgery, we got him a card. i slipped in a little origami crane. i hoped it would brighten his day. when he came back he told me that he really liked it. today he told me that it’s up on his mantle, next to some special family photos and candles from his wife’s passing. sometimes a gesture that you thought was just silly and sweet turns out to be so much more.

not to get to sad on main but depression was really kicking my ass last fall and winter. most days i couldn’t see the point of doing anything. i think it’s safe to say i’m doing better now. i thought being crafty and artsy was just a fun little hobby until my coworkers started commenting on how they love it. i think we always mean more to people than we think.

there are a lot of people to love and lots of life to live out there. make the most of it. make that person smile. do the things you want to do even if you’re not a perfect talent. make good food. eat good food. share. wear that cute outfit. put on some body glitter and sparkle. wade in the creek and skip the stones. do it all!!!!!!!

i love you tumblr users. i love you mutuals.

[orangez3st]

Dream Currents

Captain Rex × OFC Force Goddess

— Chapter 14: Legend

Tags: teen & up, f/m, gen, hurt/comfort, childhood friends, romantic friendship, fluff, pre-star wars: the clone wars, clone cadets (training in kamino), very rex-centric, rex whump, the worst is probably sw curse words (tell me if I should add more tags!) Additionally, this chapter contains angst and implied major character death.

[Content] [Start] [Prev] [Next] [AO3] [Spotify]

"Protas, being both a beast and a god, and the first and only creature of its kind, ruled the underwater creatures of Kamino. He lived in the oceans, proud of his rule, and became so proud for his own good that he started to proclaim a challenge for anyone who might be in interest to fight him for the seat of power."

"I don't get it," he cuts in during the brief pause she purposefully leaves to give him a chance to remark. "This beast-god ruled in the oceans?” His confusion is audible in his tone, and her own amusement grows behind an all-too-knowing smirk. “Thought it was yours?"

Sho’cye tilts her head. "He ruled the creatures. Pay attention."

"I heard that,” he huffs, a roll of his eyes practically saying you pay attention yourself. "He ruled. In the ocean. Your ocean. I thought you ruled the underwater creatures too."

There’s a shadow playing light tricks on her in the distant horizon as she recalls the tragedy eons past. A flash of rage draws a violent lightning that strikes her gut, pouring remorse and grief and pain into her awaiting pitcher, as she submerges in the sea waist down, her element strumming a majestic, echoing tune of corals and sea life. The rage remains for a fleeting moment before it dissipates, and she can hear the Force whistling a soothing melody in her ears.

The teenage boy she’s grown fond of sits on top of one of the few smooth rock outcroppings out in the sea, his legs dangling off the edge. His fatigues remain dry, due to the rock piece extending out from the beach into the sea and he had taken the luxurious chance to track and perch on top of it, as she had taken their current conversation to picnic within the sea’s grasp. The adolescent waits patiently and obediently for her response, eagerness and curiosity gleaming in his amber brown eyes.

“My vode took liking to arts, which we’re casually taught,” he had said, “The output and the goal is to release some of our restless energy. Involves drawing, reading, summarize, analysis. Wolffe likes to sketch whenever his downtime allows him to, and his sketches are really good. Some take on poetry – Two-Four included. Fox and his batchmates paint, like most of us all, really. Four-Eleven and a few others are big on absorbing every available holobooks about mythologies that spread throughout the galaxy.”

“And what about you?” Sho’cye had asked, “Do you like to read as well?”

“A bit of poetry and a bit of reading,” he had scratched his blond head then, “Four-Eleven been tryna coax me into some of his reads. I think I’ll be interested.”

“Why don’t you listen to one first, then you’ll find out?” she had offered with a toothy grin, diving right into storytelling mood.

So that was the initial conversation that brought him and Sho’cye to this point.

"Yes, well.” Sho’cye sighs heavily, as a sea wave greets her in their rhythm. “My fault, actually. I thought he needed something to do so he’d stop summoning for me and shut up, so I decided to share the load.” She’s certain she’s quite visibly cringing now judging by his amused chuckles. She turns at him, entertaining him with her despair playfully, "Additionally, I don't even know to this day whether he's too proud or was a complete idiot that he thought I gave him the rule of the entire Kaminoan oceans."

He snorts. "Did you punish him?"

"I am slow to anger,” Sho’cye shrugs innocently– no, really.

"Picking your fights?"

"Only because the Force held my anger at bay since I could easily crush his bones with a mere blink of an eye.” Another wave caresses her, and she breathes, sending a soft wave of gratitude towards the Force as she exhales. It brushes past her wisps of hair endearingly in return, and urging her to go with the string of sentence she’s trying to hold back, as if saying the beast-god deserved it out of amusement. Sho’cye lets a single breathy chuckle escape her lips. “The satisfaction of seeing his eventual downfall was unparalleled."

A flash of awe in his amber eyes. "And let me guess,” he smirks, “Your doing?"

Sho’cye smiles, wading closer to the rock he perches on. "A challenger came forward. A dark titan named Melkorr who lived in the deepest trench of Kaminoan ocean,” she begins, fond friendship memories flowing through her words, “A pleasant fellow, actually. We shared water stories any time we could. I told him of the sun, the rivers – he in turn told me about the depths, and complained about these little bugger sand flatfishes that tickled his toes all the time." She laughs, sending the teen smiling as well. "Now. As you understand, he was a titan, meaning he was humongous.” Her hands begin to move animatedly, the vigor seemingly flows into her easily courtesy of the Force. Her tone falls then, “He relied so much on his size and strength, that he lost against Protas in the challenge where the beast-god used his speed and agility to his advantage."

"Were you actually watching?"

"I was, yes,” she nods her head, remembering doing so from the depths and the surface all at once, “It went for a whole week of seven days, nonstop."

"Wow,” his mouth gapes, "Entertained?"

Sho’cye tries to put on a smile. "Sad, actually. I was rooting for a friend of mine."

His face immediately falls, and she has to resist the urge to giggle at the swift comical reaction. "Right. Sorry.” He shakes his head – she and him have gone a long way now that she knows he’s mentally scolding himself – and he frowns slightly as he goes on to ask, "How did the match end?"

At the prompt, all she allows herself to recall is deafening roars, raging seas and thunderstorms, and a voiceless desperation that called out to her – the unsaid, defeated farewell that she could feel through the Force. Sho’cye shuts her eyes, and the Force is there again to soothe her through gentle caresses of wind against her cheeks, reminding him that the dark titan had given good to the lives under the sea too – his corpse fed the creatures for eons, ensuring their survival in abundant supply of food to survive and breed and evolve through time.

"Protas simply exhausted Melkorr. At a moment of weakness, he destroyed the titan.” Her lips twitch, shaping a somber smile, yet with a strong voice she manages to say, "Size and strength aren't everything."

A moment of respectful silence snatches their words out of their mouths. "Yeah," the teenage boy says lowly, breaking the lull, "We're taught to be witty too, rather than mindlessly guns-a-blazin' in the heat of a battle."

A fond smile replaces the somber one on her lips. Soldiers in the making. "And so Protas continued to rule,” Sho’cye continues then, “Later, a second challenger came forward. A group of kikla. They were these native species to the planet, armed with rows of tiny little teeth, living in the waters."

He snorts again, disdain clear in his eyes. "Were they ancestors to the longnecks?"

"I didn't pay attention, to be honest,” Sho’cye indulges him, smiling along, “Even I forgot what they look like aside from the teeth that I remember. They were a proud species themselves. Valued their underwater life, worshipped me, and I did let them rule over a part of the ocean. Naturally, they came forward to challenge Protas, believing they could defeat him since he was just one and they were many. They were strong in numbers, but they lacked coordination. And this time, the battle lasted for a month, and I was there to see every single kikla got eaten by Protas, down to the last one, bringing almost all of the species into extinction."

Darkness darkness darkness. Lights blinking out. Vibrations leave to embrace silence. Not even screams of pain. Let the last thing they saw was my glittering water of their home in the sea gliding in and out their gills before eternal darkness clamped down upon them.

Sho’cye exhales shakily. "I remember feeling not even the slightest tingle in the Force that indicated their living existence."

"What does it feel like for you?" calls the boy’s voice to ground her to the earth. She looks at him fondly, at the evident attempt to sympathize although masked behind a question. "Feeling someone... Not there anymore?"

The Force pokes her in the shoulder. This boy hasn’t seen death.

Sho’cye exhales. And yet, he knows death will be scattered along his path.

He will do anything to prevent death, it says softly back to her.

That, I know, her smile, inwardly, is equally forlorn, he wears his big heart upon his sleeve, though he doesn’t know it yet.

The Force hums. By doing this alone you set him upon a different path.

One with less death, I hope, replies Sho’cye with faith, and I know you know that both you and I are on the same page about this.

Bell-like chimes, ones that remind her of a warm midsummer night, echo inside her mind and within the sea waves.

It pains me still – what he should go through, she continues, eyes fixed on the boy who looks at her with a frown now wondering if she hasn’t heard his question.

His path has already been fixed, the Force echoes in her mind now, having decided to skip away for a moment between the two, and you’re in the middle of it.

The bell chime fades into the horizon.

“You must forgive me,” says Sho’cye to him, breaking out of her trance. Her lips pull into an apologetic grin. “Silly me decided to have a moment with myself out of a sudden.”

The boy shakes his head, mumbling s’kay before repeating his question. Apparently he’s adamant to getting it answered, and Sho’cye chuckles at the reiterated push.

"Imagine you're standing in a room full of, um, light-emitting diodes,” she says with a refreshed vigor, “Thousands, hundred thousands of them. Then, you begin some begin to flicker, dim, and finally die. Its energy to light, depleted and irreparable. But at the same time, you notice some flickering to light on the other side of wall. Life and death happens at the same time, and all the time. When one passes, all you can do is nothing but to accept. Bring peace to your heart. Know that they’ve died trying, or at least, at some point in their life, they’ve tried.”

In the end, her voice breaks. He doesn’t catch that, though – she won’t let it. He doesn’t need to see her implicating what she’s seen. Glimpses of what has yet come to pass. Glimpses of a rising dark age that haunts the galaxy. Glimpses of so, so many deaths. Even now Sho’cye senses a tiny stream of dreary endeavors slithering beneath the waves, and the sand underneath. She senses it in the air. She senses it under her skin. A foul smell erupting from the blossoms of the world, yet to be cleansed. An evil cackle in the midst of bright and young laughter. A decaying body in a life-giving water spring.

She fails. She lets a single tear fall.

“You’re one too young to even match death in a staring contest.” Her voice is but above a whisper, and the Force sends a comforting graze of the wind onto her shoulders.

The boy stares at her, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sleeves. “It’s war,” says his lowered voice, yet absent from any sympathy. It’s as if he’s almost about to give her a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, but he manages to reign it in.

We’re engineered to take orders and expected to follow it obediently and see that the job gets done.

“And we don’t actually know when we’ll be deployed,” the teen laments, “Supposed to be when we’re of age. Or could be another ten years, who knows.”

“Soon,” she says a bit too quickly, and when realizes it, she immediately recovers gently adding, “And it will come swiftly.” Then, a reassuring smile – a painful irony to her sorrow. “You’ll be ready for it.”

The Force pokes at her again, a little harder this time. You’re brooding.

Sho’cye inhales deeply, and immerses herself in the oncoming wave. Water clears her vision, inside and out, enclosing every inch of her person, soothing her veins and heartstrings in a cooling blanket. Sensing her distress. Centering her focus. Swallowing affliction away from her person and retracting back into the bigger ocean, vanquishing the invisible pain into sea foam and nothingness when it’s absorbed by the heat of the sun.

Exhale. Blows bubbles into the surface. She would’ve added gills to her neck so she could breathe underwater the way she likes – becoming herself, the sea, as one – but it has grown too far past the moment she had chosen to come to land in the Coastline – the boy affectionately had named it – and opted for a set of lungs herself. So she looks like him and scares him less. It works, though. Their friendship is as steady as an underwater mountain, and it certainly isn’t cracking soon.

When Sho’cye opens her eyes, white sand and clear blue green water flood her periphery. Flow of the water in the bay sings graceful notes in her ears celebrating her liberation of grieving the past. You are shaped out of memories of eons past, she hums, where you stand is where you believe, and your faith is in the future.

His future.

She resurfaces then, still humming the third stanza of the seawater tune as water trickles down her face like a piece of drenched cloth being dragged down. Her dress and hair clings onto her figure, water dripping from the edge of limbs, and Sho’cye goes to wipe water off her face and tucks her hair away.

The boy looks awfully relieved that she finally pops back up. He’s shifted into a crouch position on the rock and has been watching her carefully. “Do I… wanna know what you’re doing?” his worried and curious tone asks, responsibility and chivalry urging him to not sound as intrusive as possible, but Sho’cye knows he really does want to know.

“Clearing my head,” she answers, soothing both his worry and rather fiery curiosity these days, with a lighter tone already rid of grieving burden. She attempts on a reassuring smile. “I’m feeling better now.”

“Are you… alright?”

A little late to ask that, Sho’cye chuckles inwardly. “Yes, I’m alright,” she says, warmed and touched by his concern nonetheless. She reciprocates his effort, “You?”

“Okay,” he replies, though confusion remains clearly written on his countenance. His slight frown works to hold everything in not to question her sudden temperament. Sho’cye frowns. He’s usually one to ask to quench curiosity, though this time she knows that he mulls it may be wise to not prod further on the subject. And she knows he feels indifferent. Because he’s oblivious to his fate.

But she, and the Force, knows.

Another minute of comfortable silence later – with the boy shifting again to his previous sitting position and Sho’cye wringing her waist-length hair – they finally move on with the story.

"What happened next?" he prompts again, resetting the storytelling flow in motion.

Sho’cye sighs audibly. "As much as I despise to say it..."

He catches on and grins. "Protas continued to rule."

"And became more some kind of a p–"

"Pain in the ass?"

"I was going to say 'pompous little halfwit'.” The Force whistles a tune that sounds like melodic laughter. Sho’cye lets out a laugh herself. "Time went on. He took down his challengers, one after another. Eventually age caught onto Protas, yet his ruling power and body strength endured, and his arrogance became catalytically worse. Once, he came across a pod of aiwha. You know aiwha, yes?"

The boy nods. "Yeah, the cetacean that can fly. Didn't realize they're so ancient."

"Yes, they evolved less because they are in the water most of the time," she supplies, fondly recalling the sounds they constantly make when they’re together with their family in the Kaminoan ocean, "The aiwha pod was to migrate to the south for winter where I was waiting for them with warmer water, but Protas, the ever-arrogant halfwit he was, blocked their path and allowed them to go no further because it would please him.” Her tone turns bleak, “He told them to return, so they should freeze and die."

His frown grows harder, and his surprised tone of voice levels with Sho’cye’s disappointment. "Seriously?"

"Seriously, that when I realized they were late, something had to be wrong, and I knew it was Protas.” Sho’cye grits her teeth. "I could not let more die at his hands. The Force finally allowed me to act about it."

"What did you do?"

A beat of silence, then two, and three. "I led the attack myself," mutters Sho’cye, looking down at her hands – the same ones that hide the rage of a god and the disappointment of a mother. "I took form, and let the aiwha see me – to let any living creatures see me, for the first time in eons.” Her tone grows distant. “Blow after blow and current after current, I blew his way. While I grappled with Protas and held him in, the aiwha charged, clamping and biting on his open spots. They reached his neck where it was soft and most vulnerable. He was dying, I could feel it, but it was when he swung last at one of the aiwha and killed it I had never been so enraged."

Silence again, and it’s until she realizes she’s brooding again, gazing far into the distance. Sho’cye turns back to him, meeting his gaze which amber brown reflects the blinking of the sunlight. The sight awes her for a fleeting moment – the color reminds her of an unseen crystal that’s buried underneath the earth that it absorbs the color of the soil itself, and when it’s finally dug out it cheerfully embraces the light of the sun. They shine with anticipation of new things ahead. There’s endless determination in his eyes – a strong, unbreakable front to his admirable gentleness and sympathy chained behind and kept under watchful supervision. It has come to her some time ago how she feels about the color – something she rarely sees, something she certainly doesn’t have the governance of. Earth. Soil. Mountains. Fertile land. All speak of the strength in his body and the resolve in his heart.

She blinks, and she’s back to being half submerged in the beach and almost leaving her story unfinished to forgetfulness.

A few comical seconds of remembering where she left it, she continues with a lighter tone – that may confuse him again, she humors herself.

"But I didn't give in,” Sho’cye feels herself smile, power thrums in her veins and hope somehow blooms in her chest. “The aiwha destroyed Protas, and the ocean was mine again. I learned that day. I misjudged Protas. Since then, I never share my authority with any other local deities. I shoulder the burden alone, come may sorrow and pride and what the Force wills me to act on, I will always serve the Light."

It feels like a thick coat that warms one during the biting cold of winter – the Force perches on her shoulders like one.

The teen stares at her in silent awe, his warm amber eyes shine with that light. "I have so many questions."

"And I'd love to answer, to quench your eagerness," chuckles Sho’cye, "But you'll be overwhelmed when you wake up. And it's nearing the day's end, meaning you will actually wake up soon."

He sulks, though trying to be subtle about it. Sho’cye thinks it’s adorable, no matter how much he’s spent time to build a rock hard exterior. She does realize he relaxes and opens up more around her. "Just this one?” he bargains hopefully.

Still a curious one. Her soft smile breaks into a grin, and her cheeks grow warm. "I guess I can do one."

"You, uh, took form?"

Okay, she can easily keep this one summarized, or his brain won’t hold the immense abstractness of it all.

[Content] [Start] [Prev] [Next] [AO3] [Spotify]

Word Count: 3,404