#and trying to work in another medium doesn't help either

[copper-sands]

starting to think that maybe it's a good idea to stop forcing myself to create and take a break actually

[forgeofthenine]

OOH what do you think of tieflings purring kinda like cats?? What do you think you could do that would make Dammon, Zevlor and Rolan purr?

Anyone that's a longtime reader will know I love tieflings and their purring, it actually made an appearance in my very first set of headcanons!! Thanks for sending in the prompt Anon, I loved writing these! <3

Bachelor purring headcanons

Dammon

Once Dammon starts to really open up to you and get close this man becomes a purring machine

He'll purr when you two are falling asleep in bed, when he randomly hugs you throughout the day, he purrs to show how content he is with his new life

And a callback to my Dammon as a dad headcanons, he'll purr to help calm down his crying or fussy child

it's a given that he'll purr for you too if you need affection or comfort, anything he can do to help

His purr is a happy medium between vibration and noise, it's deep and vibrates through his whole chest, but it's easy to hear too when you press your head against him

I feel like Dammon would also love if his partner is another tiefling that also purrs a lot

The feeling of him or others purring is so calming, and it's why he does it when you two are trying to sleep

Zevlor

Zevlor very rarely purrs, at first

It's a very intimate, and vulnerable feeling for him

He's spent years as a hellrider, so under control of his own emotions and willing to suppress some of the 'undesireable' traits tieflings have

After that, and the trauma of being a refugee thrown out of his home, there's a lot of things Zevlor needs to ease back into

It starts with him purring after sex, when he feels limbless and relaxed and so very happy

Later he starts to purr again to comfort you and himself if either of you have a nightmare

Over time he grows to purr more often, but he never purrs as much as most other tieflings and won't purr if anyone other than you is around

I've mentioned it before but, Zevlors purrs are such a deep baritone that you feel it more than you hear it

It's a low, long rumble that shifts through you in the most comforting way possible

Rolan

Rolan is almost scared at first to let his non tiefling partner know he can purr

He often hides the parts of tiefling culture and anatomy he finds 'embarrassing'

It's finally revealed when you have an absolutely awful day, the very worst day, and he accidentally lets out some light purring while giving you a hug

Once Rolan finds out you like it then he'll try to purr just a bit more

When you two are reading together in bed, if you run your fingers through his hair, every time you two are too tired to get up right away after sex

He makes an effort, specifically for you

Rolans purr is pretty loud, it's a higher pitch than some others, and it vibrates less through his chest

He doesn't like it very much because it's so loud, but he likes it more when he realises you enjoy listening to it

And it's still very sweet when you unexpectedly hear him purr as you massage his shoulders and ask him to take a break from work

[ultimateissuessimp]

Ohhhh can you write cat king x dog king please? like enemies to lovers so cute I think! feel free to decline obv

Oooh you guys have no idea how much I adore writing for the Cat King 🥹 If the word count doesn't express that, I don't know what could. Thank you for this amazing request, I had a field day with it 🙏

Also HAPPY PRIDE MONTH Y'ALL! 🏳️‍🌈❤️

Fleabag and a Dirty Mutt

The Cat King x Dog King!Male Reader

Word count: 2,759

Warnings: Mention of a character dying (Don't worry, he's alive 🙌), animal cruelty (does that count-?), violence, suggestive language (Nothing happens tho 😔), can this be passed off as hurt/comfort? I don't know, really

When people talk about the stereotype of dogs and cats being mortal enemies, they're not that far away from the truth. They may bit be exactly mortal enemies, but the hate and deep rooted dislike is there. There are instances when dogs and cats live in harmony, but not these two. The monarchs. The royalty. The Dog King and the Cat King. Both too stubborn to change places where they rule, one at the docks, the other keeping closer to the woods, trying to stay as far away from the other as possible.

They had so many run ins with each other that it was a miracle they hadn't tried to kill one another yet. It surely felt like they were close to it though, especially from a point of view of an outsider. Those outsiders being two certain ghosts alongside a quite powerful medium visiting Port Townsend that started causing a little ruckus. Naturally the Cat King at first didn't care even though he was aware of them, of course until one of them used magic on one of his cats. Then he started closely observing them. While the Dog King, being the, well, being that he was, couldn't help but grow interested the moment he caught their very interesting scent, unlike any other ghost's or person in the town and the number was quite big. From the beginning he carefully observed them, before revealing himself when the, now group, clearly needed his help.

From that moment on they began something akin to a business partnership. They get rid of the damned witch that was only causing troubles for him while he protects them and helps them however he can, either his strength, wisdom or resourcefulness. They worked together, both sides diligently fulfilling their side of the agreement and everything was going really well until that new boy appeared. When he first sniffed the air while the new guy was around, his nose immediately scrunched up in displeasure. He reeked with magic, but he couldn't quite place it why or where was it coming from. Then he started talking about astrology and everything else with Edwin and Y/N's demeanor, while still cautious and distrusting, changed from an on guard one to a more relaxed stance. He thought that that was probably where the stench was coming from. The boy was either practising witchcraft or had it deeply rooted within him which was slowly waking up. He was wrong though, big time.

Then was also Thomas. That fucking fleabag that was a constant pain in his ass. He wanted to just rip his throat out with his teeth over and over again until the being was out of lives, but at the same time he felt like he would probably, ironically, miss the damn cat. That didn't change the fact that he was absolutely getting in his nerves whenever he could. This was one of those moments, the two accidentally bumping into each other at the viewing spot that the Cat King visited previously to talk with, and slightly torment, Edwin.

The large fawn and tan coated Doberman trudged up the stairs, from time to time looking up to the starry night sky to see if any star was shining much brighter than the rest and letting out a quiet, pleased sound when he found one. It was a little something to pass the time, especially when he was on a walk like this one.

When he finally got to the top and took a whiff of the air around, wanting to feel the freshness of the air coming from the water, but instead he could smell a very distinguishable scent of a certain fleabag. He immediately snarled when his eyes finally found the orange cat sitting on the stone ledge. He got an angry hiss in response and a swat of a paw, hitting the air, not even close to the dog. Y/N swiftly turned into his human form, an orange swirl forming around him before quickly disappearing when he stood on two feet instead of two pairs of paws, Thomas doing the same, the cat dissappearing in a purple flame, letting the human form take his place.

-What the fuck are you doing here, you damn mutt? - the Cat King asked, clearly annoyed as he looked at the Dog King with an disinterested look.

-I could ask you the same thing, fleabag. Don't you think you're treading a bit too close to my territory? - Y/N fired back, slightly baring his teeth before crossing his arms over his chest and walking over to the stone ledge, looking out into the view despite it being quite dark.

-Oh don't flatter yourself, I simply felt like having a bit of peace away from everyone and everything. This place seemed ideal, but now that you're here everything is ruined - Thomas answered with sass, he couldn't help the eyeroll that followed his statement as he stayed on his spot on the ledge, sitting on it with his legs crossed, one on the other, arms keeping him up behind him.

-Hm, sweet as always I see? Can your mouth do anything other than talk a load of shit? - Y/N asked another question, his eyes going to the Cat King without turning his head, a clearly unamused look on his face.

-It can also take loads, but you will never get to experience that, so why bother? - the man fired back with a smug smirk tugging at his lips, his canines showing off as the smirk grew into a satisfied grin at the Dog King's reaction that only spoke of disgust.

-As if I'd ever even let your face get anywhere near me that isn't at least six feet of distance - the Dog King said, distaste in his mouth at the simple thought of such a scenario.

That night went by in snarky comments and teasing before finally one of them decided they had enough of the company and went back to their kingdom. That was a few days ago, after that more pressing matters appeared that had the Dog King speeding to the forest in his Doberman form, picking up speed with each small sounds he was hearing in the distance. He knew those kids would get into some serious shit, but the fact they had a spy between them? A spy that worked for someone that wanted to kill them without any remorse? That was beyond trouble.

He was slightly late to the party, Monty already being exposed by the Cat King at whose sight Y/N rolled his eyes, before he reminded himself why he was there. He needed to help the kids, even though if that meant going against Esther and the agreement they made a long time ago.

He changed into his human form at the moment when Thomas was telling Edwin that the second kiss was always better before pressing his lips to Monty's for a brief moment. Y/N stared in surprise, as if frozen in his spot a few feet behind Edwin. A weird feeling started to appear in his chest, tugging as if someone smashed their hand into his chest, wrapped it around his heart and started squeezing. He winced in displeasure, before becoming mortified at the realisation that what he felt was jealousy. He was jealous of Monty.

He quickly shook his head before finally coming into the light, facial expression serious as he looked at Monty, trying not to let it slip how he felt not too long ago. There were more pressing matters to tend to than his silly feelings. He could take care of them later on when there wasn't a second death threat looming over the two ghosts and a first one for the two girls with them.

-I think it's time for you to go, Thomas. You've said what you wanted to say, if you have no intention of helping further on, just go bother someone fucking else - Y/N said, a little growl behind his words as he remained an eye contact with the Cat King while speaking, his nose scrunching slightly.

-Whatever. I'm out. Have fun, mutty - Thomas said, rolling his eyes before disappearing in purple flames, taking the source of light with himself.

Y/N looked at Edwin and then Monty carefully, assessing if there would be any action necessary like protecting the ghost from the crow or any other threat that Esther might have coming for them. When he didn't see or feel anything wrong in particular, he relaxed just a tiny bit, still on high alert for any danger while Edwin went at it, spewing out how betrayed he felt because of Monty.

When they were done there and reunited with the rest of the group, took care of the massive mushroom that tried to suck them into itself and be ultimately their demise alongside Esther, seemingly getting rid of her by sending her into a different dimension with the mushroom, only then could they let out a breath of relief while resting in Niko's apartment room. After some time Y/N decides that it's time to go back to his territory, letting the group properly rest after a night full of, well, bullshit. That was also his excuse to think about his feelings towards the Cat King. After just a minute of thinking he realized he was fucked. Utterly and royally fucked.

It was not that long after, a day or two maybe, when Y/N felt something was wrong. His mind was running a thousand thoughts per second while he felt squeamish and uneasy. Finally one thought became the beacon amidst the sea of them. The Cat King. Something was terribly wrong and it made him worried. That's why he turned into his dog form and sped towards the dogs, being careful enough with the cats he was passing, but also not letting them stop him in any way, growling at some that tried pouncing on him.

When he finally got to the docks and basically slammed through the warehouse doors, uncaring about the damage, he felt a sense of dread fill his body when he saw the last hit that a very pissed and determined Esther delivered to the Cat King's body, easily taking away his third life with her cane. He knew the man still have quite a few lives left, but it still mad him enraged with the witch, that damned fucking witch that was an ever bigger pain in his ass than the Cat King that was currently trying to get used to his new life and changing into his human form.

Before Thomas could even get a word out, Y/N let out a loud growl and a warning bark before launching full speed at Esther, leaping over the Cat King who slightly covered when he heard Y/N approach quickly. He landed right on her, making her slam down onto the ground while his full weight rested on her. He bit harshly into her upper arm before standing up and trashing his head around, tugging on it, causing some damage to her body, her head hitting concrete already making her slightly dizzy. When she got the chance to free herself, she shouted in frustration and anger, clutching her arm tightly to her chest before landing one strong blow with her cane to the Dog King's head. While she put some space between them, he changed into his human form, a clear sign of damage she made also visible on his temple that was bleeding down the side of his face. Yet he still stood there seemingly unfazed, shielding Thomas with his own body, standing in Esther's way if she happened to get another surge of violance out of herself.

And then of course when he got out of his initial shock, the Cat King had to start shouting about Esther making his lose his third life and blabber out the fact that Edwin had been through Hell, literally and metaphorically, clearly giving Esther an idea, judging by the look on her face. He simply couldn't shut the fuck up when he should.

When the witch left, Y/N turned towards the Cat King, assessing his new look, his heart skipping a beat once or twice. While he didn't like the circumstances of the change, he really didn't mind the new aesthetic. It suited him. Anything suited him right ally, but the black looked especially... Nice.

While Y/N was taking the view in front of him in, the Cat King started ranting about how stupid he was for even risking his own life like that, taking a couple steps towards the Dog King and taking his face firmly, yet carefully into his hands, turning it to the sides however he seemed fit, checking for any other damages than the most obvious one on his temple. When he didn't see other wounds, he sighed before tugging the sleeve of his coat more onto his hand, trapping the material with his fingers to his palm to keep it covered and bringing it up to Y/N's temple, gently cleaning it off of blood.

-Why the fuck would you do that? Have you gone completely insane, you dirty mutt? - Thomas huffed out in concerned annoyance, wiping away at the side of the Dog King's face, being careful not to irritate the wound further on.

-Long time ago, kitty. I felt that something was wrong and I just couldn't ignore it. You were in trouble and you expected me to just stay away? Really? For how long have we known each other that you still think such bullshit? - Y/N replied, raising one eyebrow at Thomas while his half lidded eyes slowly traveled all across the man's face, the Cat King clearly not noticing his stare since he was too engrossed in patching the Dog King up, even whipping a small cat themed bandaid out of thin air and placing it on the wound.

-Yes, clearly. If you were in trouble and I knew, I wouldn't give two shits, honestly. One annoying mutt less and did you just call me "kitty"? The fuck? She really smacked you hard, damn - the Cat King said, shaking his head and huffing out in an annoyed way, yet the concern written all over his face spoke of something else and so did the barely there blush that appeared when his brain finally processed what Y/N had called him, his heart doing a little flip.

-Mhmm... For sure - Y/N replied shortly and simply, a small cheeky smirk pulling at the left corner of his lips, his eyes still roaming all over the man's face before finally settling on his eyes, the Cat King's own dilated ones staring right back into his.

They both continued looking into each other's eyes, before Y/N finally had enough and leaned in after cupping Thomas' face in his hands gently. His chapped lips pressed sweetly, yet a bit needily into the Cat King's own soft ones. Needy to feel that everything was okay. That Thomas was okay. That he himself was okay. That they were and will be okay. The Cat King responded rapidly by wrapping his arms around the other man's neck tightly, keeping his close. They only pulled away when breathing comfortably started to be a struggle, chests heaving as they breathed deeply, forehead pressed tightly together.

-Don't... Don't ever do that again. Don't try to save my life or one of them when your own gets compromised because of it - Thomas whispered out, his eyes closing and scrunching slightly as an image of badly wounded Dog King entered his mind, but he quickly shoo'ed it away. He swallowed hard before opening his eyes once again just to be met with a big grin on Y/N's face.

-Can't promise that, kitty. Especially not when I know that now you're an unlucky black cat - the Dog King fired back teasingly with a chuckle, his nose rubbing softly against the man's in his arms that were now comfortably resting, wrapped around Thomas' waist.

-Oh fuck you - he got as a reply, a chuckle of his own leaving the Cat King moments before he was the one to initiate another kiss. That one softer, filled with gratefulness and something else entirely. Something as sweet as a cherry blossom tea with a plate filled with chocolate chip cookies.

-If you wish, sure - Y/N said into the kiss, both of them unable to contain the smile that were gracing their faces as they kept close to one another. All they had to do now was simply revel in this new feeling and let it grow like a bush of roses.

[heich0e]

[warning: while f!reader is not described with any specific physical characteristics, the child in this fic is described as having inherited all of Megumi’s attributes and none from reader! please read with that in mind, or pass over this fic if not <3]

"Yeah, he'll be alright."

It's amazing how quickly Kota falls asleep.

One second he's sitting in his chair at the table in the staff room, and the next Megumi looks over and he's slumped over with his cheek pressed against his arms where they're resting crossed atop the table. Megumi panics a little when he sees it, looking around as though there's someone else present to help him with the current predicament he has on his hands. There isn't, obviously, as Itadori still hasn't returned since he left the room to go call his mentor and try and figure out how to get the little boy back home. So it's left for him to deal with alone.

Megumi quietly approaches the little boy.

"Kota," he says softly, standing above his sleeping form. The child doesn't stir at all, so he repeats himself a little bit louder. "Kota."

Still, no luck.

He crosses his arms over his chest, staring down at the dozing boy with a frown on his face while he contemplates what to do. After a moment, he sighs—and though the sound is only air, it's heavy with the weight of resignation.

Megumi has never held a child before, never even attempted it as far as his memory serves. His only point of reference for lifting something of roughly the same size and weight is when he has to pick up medium-sized dogs to examine them—but they have four legs and this child only has two, so his usual approach won't work. Instead, Megumi slips his hands cautiously underneath the boy's arms, plucking him up out of his seat not dissimilarly to a forklift. Once Kota's in the air, he dangles limply but doesn't wake—a sight which Megumi can't help but look at a bit peculiarly.

Slowly, Megumi carries the sleeping child over to the small sofa on the other side of the staff room, setting him down gently. It's not the most comfortable sofa in the world, but the man knows from experience it's good enough to sleep on thanks to the many late nights he's spent at the clinic—and in any case, it's certainly better than a table.

Kota squirms a little once Megumi sets him down atop the lumpy cushion, rolling over onto his side and tucking a little hand under his cheek. He still doesn't wake, though, and Megumi breathes another sigh of relief for that.

Kota continues sleeping soundly, his little lips parted in soft snores, and Megumi just remains crouched beside the sofa watching him, half terrified he'll wake and half fascinated by the sight.

The door to the staff room flies open.

"Good new—!"

Megumi is up on his feet, across the room, and pushing Itadori back out into the corridor with a hand over his mouth before he can take a single step across the threshold.

Yuuji blinks at his friend in confusion from underneath his palm once the two men are outside of the staff room and the door has swung closed behind them. The dark-haired man drops his hand after a moment, his heartbeat pumping in his ears.

"He's sleeping."

Yuuji simply nods in understanding.

"Just got off the phone with Nanamin, Kota's mom was at the station reporting him missing. He's bringing her here now."

Megumi's stomach does a weird little flip that he can't quite explain, but he keeps his expression neutral and nods. Yuuji watches his face closely, and the dark haired man finds it unpleasant so he looks down the hallway towards the lobby.

"You really don't think he's your kid?"

Megumi's teeth set on edge at Yuuji's question.

"I told you," he mutters, his tone a little clipped, "it's not possible."

Sure Kota looks just like him. Looks just like the few photos Megumi has seen of himself at around that age. But it's not like Megumi's particularly unique looking, either. Dark hair, green eyes, fair skin—these are all relatively common features.

It's just a coincidence. He's sure of it.

In the hallway, there's a sudden wash of flashing red light that's coming from the lobby. The two men move towards it, and through the glass at the front of the clinic they can see a police car with its lights flashing as it pulls up outside.

The two men share a look.

"I'll go get him," Megumi says, turning his back on the lobby. The lights continue flashing, painting the walls of the corridor a harsh, fluorescent red. "You bring them in."

Yuuji looks at him for a moment but says nothing, just offering him a nod.

When Megumi steps back into the staff room, he sees that Kota has flopped himself onto his back in his sleep—his little arms and legs sticking out in every direction, and his racoon jumper inching up over his tummy. It's kind of funny, and Megumi finds his lips lifting in spite of himself.

This time when he picks up Kota with one hand beneath either underarm, he holds the boy facing him—though still a bit awkwardly far from his own body. The boy's eyes flutter open as Megumi holds him aloft, blinking slowly in confusion. Megumi's lips part to explain that his mother is here, but Kota reaches out for him tiredly and it makes him freeze. Megumi hesitates before bringing the boy closer to his own body. Out of sheer instinct, Kota's legs wrap around his waist, and his little hands loosely grip the neckline of his sweater as he lays his head on the man's shoulder. Megumi isn't sure what to do.

Finally, after a few heartbeats pass, he places one hand on the little boy's back and the other underneath his bottom, holding him snug against his chest. He can't help but notice how warm Kota is as he clings to him. How small and how light he is to hold in his arms.

He looks down at the boy, whose eyes have closed again—his wispy eyelashes resting against his round, rosy cheeks. Megumi wonders what it must be like to be so small and so reliant on others. To be so blindly trusting. To have no choice but to be so.

He holds Kota a little bit tighter, and then carries him out towards the lobby.

Yuuji and Nanami have their backs to the corridor when Megumi emerges carrying Kota in his arms. There's someone else with them too, Megumi can hear their quiet voice, but the mens' broad shoulders shield the figure from view. Megumi isn't quite sure how to announce his presence, so he clears his throat—holding Kota a little bit tighter as he does so.

Both of the men shift, turning in his direction, and as they part Megumi has a perfect view of the person waiting in front of them.

His stomach plummets.

"Kota!"

You don't seem to have even registered Megumi's presence yet, your gaze focused only on the little boy he holds in his arms. You cross the room towards him, rushing like the tides to the shore, and only when you're right in front of him, a trembling hand resting on your little boy's back, do you finally look up at the man who's holding him.

Your eyes widen, but it's not a look of mild surprise.

As your eyes meet his, there's a flicker of recognition behind your gaze. But more than that, you look absolutely horrified.

Megumi feels a throb of irritation behind his eyes, and maybe even a little disappointment as he stares down at your face.

Who the hell are you?

[ohnoitstbskyen]

one piece live action thoughts?

It looks very much like a live action adaptation of One Piece. For better, and very much also for worse.

I mean this in the sense that it's adapted to fit a form that helps it make sense 1) in live action and 2) to a general audience which isn't intimately familiar with manga or anime, and which a broadcaster or streaming service would want to reach.

Luffy especially, at least going by the relatively tiny snippet we have seen so far, seems to have had some of his more peculiar edges sanded off to fit more comfortably into the mold of a typical young adult protagonist, which includes the... I guess what people call "marvel speak" now? The little funny quips and asides and ironic saying-the-obvious-thing-out-loud beats, which are more Americanisms than Marvel specific but I digress.

In One Piece, Luffy is most often not the point of view character, especially early on. Luffy is usually observed from outside by other characters - Koby serves this role in the early chapters, and from then on usually we see Luffy through his crew, or through whatever secondary characters they're interacting with in that particular arc.

People have observed this before, but in the manga, we essentially NEVER get any internal monologue from Luffy, he always either SAYS what he's thinking, or he runs on head empty no thoughts just vibes instinct and gut reaction.

And that... probably doesn't really work with a typical young adult protagonist. If adapted faithfully to screen, I think a lot of audiences would read him as just a reckless, inconsiderate and kinda heartless asshole, because a framing and presentation of Luffy that makes sense in a manga or anime just doesn't read the same in live action filmmaking.

Like, One Piece opens with Luffy recklessly sailing off to sea despite having no idea how to sail, getting sucked into a whirlpool and surviving on sheer dumb luck, getting picked up by some pirates in a barrel. Then he meets an abused child named Koby who has been getting the shit kicked out of him daily for months and immediately calls him a clumsy, stupid, cowardly worthless loser to his face and laughs at him.

Like, if you adapted that faithfully, how would that come across to a general audience? Imagine this scene staged in live-action, with human actors having to portray this conversation rather than stylized cartoon people. It simply wouldn't come across the same way, Luffy would come across as an It's Always Sunny character at best. Why would a general audience sympathize with him? Why would they find him compelling or worth investing emotionally in?

And I'm not saying there aren't ways to adapt One Piece faithfully into live action, there absolutely are (much like the manga, I would make everyone ELSE the point-of-view characters looking AT Luffy rather than try and present him as a Likeable Protagonist, for example).

My point is just that in any translation into live action, there are going to be concessions to the medium, there are going to be concessions to film language, concessions to audience expectations, concessions to the market conditions, concessions to the studio funding the filming, and so on. That's just the nature of the endeavour.

When it's done well, you get an adaptation that preserves the spirit of the thing while fitting its medium. Lord of the Rings comes to mind, an adaptation which changed huge amounts from its source material, but preserved the spirit.

When it's done poorly you get... well, Cowboy Bebop on Netflix.

I don't know from the tiny trailer snippet we've seen whether this show will preserve the spirit of One Piece, it very well may not, and end up another victim on the pile of bad anime adaptations. But I don't think the fact that it changed the vibe of the characters or Main Character'd Luffy alone are reasons to dismiss it, at least not yet. Those might have been necessary concessions for the show to work in live action at all. We shall see.

I'm not super optimistic or excited (because, again, I remember Cowboy Bebop), but I'm not despairing of it yet either.

[meanbossart]

DU drow asks time

Lore questions/sweet messages/stuff that made me laugh that's about DU drow specifically that I decided to compile in a single post!

First of all, "outraged to be used as a medium for old man gay divorce" is a hysterical sentence LOL

As for his thoughts on the Ansur debacle? Negative ones. He hates the emperor, he doesn't care about his third-time-twist real identity, he doesn't particularly care about Wyll either (well - he kind of finds him entertaining, he's kind of really frustrated by him, it's complicated) but he saved his dad on a whim to spite Mizora anyway. BUT HEY, all that trouble would have been worthwhile if he's about to get an ancient dragon fighting alongside him - this old duke sounds a little too confident in this fairy tale, but stranger things have happened, right?

Then the situation unfolds as it does, and if he wasn't eager enough to use that orphic hammer before, he certainly is now. There is very little that the Emperor does past Act 3 that DU drow doesn't find a way to twist into something that confirms his resolve against him. If he could have taken Ansur's side in that fight, he would have - not that he shed any tears over killing him either.

Sick sword though, that helped soothe his nerves a bit and I'm sure spared everyone a little bit of a tantrum at camp later.

HAHAHAHA I can't confirm nor deny because I see so few large body-type elves as it is (which is fair, elves aren't usually... That massive). I did set age to 50% because it does look a little weird when it's all smooth. Maybe that's the trick?

Though I guess if you find it unsettling, then... No wonder it suits him! however this just looks like an impressively handsome fella to me, to be honest. I insist on fucking him up further whenever I draw him for that reason.

Thank you so much for following along and for giving the fic a try!!! And no worries, english isn't my native tongue either so I've been there 😎👍

I do actually have a couple of very short comics planned that take place pre-tadpole, but my backlog of WIPs is... Massive. Not to mention the commission work I do (currently not taking any more). I have one that's about his first interaction with Orin and another about a business dinner with Gortash gone-wrong, but I have no clue when I'll be able to work on them. Hopefully soon though!

You know, I've always hoped that after I died I'd be remembered as the guy who inspired others to make their nipples card-swipe-able.

Joke's aside, thank you LOL I love that my guys' nips have taken up non-insignificant room in your mind, it's always comforting to know that you aren't the only one.

Piercings and the such aren't really his style though. While he finds his scar-work weirdly comforting, he isn't so interested in aesthetic results as much as he just enjoys having pain inflicted upon him in a controlled environment, by people that he loves - He doesn't recall this post-tadpole, but the scars were a result of a kind of... Recurring ritual between himself and Orin that served to replace normal intimacy, pretty much.

Since you touched on it though, I do like to believe that Astarion finds his cut-up body fun, both on the eyes and on the hands LOL.

I'm starting to think you guys are all in on this. It's like the fifth time someone catches me in the act - god damn it, is it that obvious that I wanna slide down Peter Steele's cold corpse like he's a a ride at the Magical Ice kingdom... Which is to say, yes, both the guy and his music are not-so-lowkey a big inspiration behind a lot of DU drow's characterization!

That's all for now folks, thank you so much for the asks!!! This isn't all of them but I try not to spam people's feeds when I can help it/space them out. I see all of your messages and I guarantee you that if I have an interesting answer for them, you will see a reply eventually!

[herb-emotes]

So you want to make emotes?

Here are some things that are potentially helpful for new emote creators that I probably just pulled out of my bum bum. Im not a professional this is just what I think I've learned learned

1: simple vs complex

Is your symbol going to be big or small? This is very important to think about, for pixel size, accessibility, and being comprehensible because if your say, making a discord sticker, the details will be alot more noticeable say compared to a standard sized emoji.

You also might want to make it simple or complex depending on its motive, is it meant to be eye catchingly detailed or is it supposed to be just something someone can look at and instantly have a idea of what it means?

Complex emotes can also cause eye strain if you aren't careful, especially in a smaller medium as the viewer might be staring at it trying to figure out what it means, especially if your emotes name isn't self explanatory or just not there depending on platform.

2: colors

Don't get me wrong, I love bright eye strainy colors, but its not for everyone, and some people have a hard time even looking at them. So if you want something colorful you might want something desaturated but still vibrant, don't be afraid to play with your color pallete!

3: Vector vs raster

If you've taken a graphic design class, or watched a simple tutorial, you might already know what this is.

A raster is a pixel file, like any jpg or png would usually be, they have a set size before they start to loose detail and become lower quality.

A vector is a file which usually isn't made in pixels and can be resized easily. You might of noticed the somewhat recent ibspaint vector update, but its for premium users and most vector applications cost money and are hard to learn right away

Which one should you use?

It doesn't matter! It's up to personal preferences, although if you use a raster file you might want to make sure you have a large pixel size if you intend on your work to be multi use.

4: Deciding on a style.

This one doesn't matter that much, please don't worry about finding a consistent art style in its entirety, But for a emote you might wanna be consistent.

Some things you can do are brainstorm, make a mindmap, are your eyes dots or do they have a pupil iris and sclera? Do your smiles have dimples? Color pallete ideas if you plan on having one, what kind of lineart do you wanna use? Fonts for text? Another way to brain storm is literally just by making emojis as you go, try making different versions of the same emote until you find something your happy with.

Conclusion

The way you make emotes depends on how you plan on people using them, it is important to think about accessibility, and recognition for either the previous thing or just gaining an audience (if you want one ofc, they can be bad for mental health.)

Literally anyone can interact with this post btw as I feel as though its more important to be able to access this over syscourse

[yousaydisco]

Artist!Harry AU

Another fanfic that I planned out MANY MONTHS AGO and I'm 90% sure I'm never going to fully write

(content warning for depictions of violence)

AU where Harry, at the urging from Dora, quits being a gym teacher and attempts to join the RCM but for whatever reason - maybe he was already struggling with addiction at this point, or maybe he didn't want to join the RCM and deliberately made himself seem unfit for duty, and is rejected from joining the ranks. As a result of the rejection, Dora leaves him at this point and it breaks Harry, either causing him to go further into his addictions or develop them now.

After falling down that hole he attempts to pick himself back up by making art.

After making art for years (a mixture of mediums - paint on canvas, graffito, the rare photographs, making statues out of bottles, etc) and developing a cult following but not a reliable income, he has FINALLY secured a spot in a gallery to showcase his best work. Something that really showcases Revacholian Pride. Unfortunately, in the week of the gallery opening, there is a murder.

Kim, a lieutenant still at the 57th, is sent to investigate the crime and Harry, who is INCREDIBLY eager to get it solved so he can showcase his work and also has the inability to keep his nose out of other people's business, worms his way into helping him. Or he tries, at least, since Kim very much doesn't want to let a 1) a civilian and 2) an active suspect, be a participate in the solving of the crime.

They don't really hit it off at first and not JUST because Harry is trying to do Kim's job - Harry is abrasive, and kind of unsettling, and Kim doesn't care for off-the-wall art like that, but Harry very early on proves himself useful by getting information out of witnesses that Kim knows he couldn't have. Plus Harry knows the area and people very well AND he does end up having an alibi for the night of the murder so Kim, rather reluctantly at first, lets Harry help him. Initially it's just with talking to witnesses but he continues to be impressive so Kim just. Keeps working with him.

Unofficially, of course. It's all under the record.

THE CASE: A woman was found in the back alley that connects to the exit of the art gallery. The cause of death was blunt force trauma to the head, but the weird thing was that her hands were severed from the body post-mortem. She was an active artist in the area and had a lot of connections to basically everyone there, including Harry, who she once rejected his proposal to collab on a piece together.

Her specialty was photography and she was going to have a few pieces in the same exhibition that Harry was. She made a photography collage of the hands of various working class people of the area, black and white but she hand painted select colors back onto the cells (specifically red/pinks whenever they show up, like bloody knuckles or capillaries).

The reason that Harry wanted to work with her is because she got an offer to be in the exhibit WAY before he did, and she refused to give him a reason for why she didn't want to collaborate, which is how he was initially a prime suspect.

Harry's alibi is that he was working that night at a local bar which serves as his "real job" (though he doesn't like the term). But he was there all night, multiple co-workers and customers saw him, so: solid alibi.

Harry is like. A natural at a lot of the police work. So much of it comes easy for him. He cites his love of Dick Mullen novels and often during the case he needs to "get into character" and "go method" which Kim finds kind of annoying but holy shit the results cannot be ignored.

Scene: Harry tells Kim that he needs to investigate the apartment of a rival artist, one he doesn't get along with at all, and he doesn't really explain why since his Skills told him they need to. Kim gives a noncommittal answer, because it just sounds like Harry wants to make his enemy a suspect, and he ends up not having the time to check it out anyway. The next day Harry calls him on Kim's personal number - something that Kim rarely gives out for investigations - and continues to press the importance of it. He implies/outright says he will break in himself if Kim doesn't do it the legal way and Kim just. Sighs and agrees to prevent another crime from happening.

When Kim gets there the door is open and no one is there, and when he enters he sees blood all over the carpet but no body, murder weapon, or hands.

Harry gets taken in for questioning, of course, but he's more pleased than angry. Pleased that his gut was correct and he knew what he was talking about. They hold him for the maximum time they can but since they don't actually believe he did anything or have evidence don't arrest him, and all Harry really says is how he doesn't think the rival artist is the murderer and he firmly believes something else is afoot. Very strange, since if the rival artist DID do it, everything is better for Harry.

(This is also where I imagine putting Jean in the story and I think he questioned Harry. They don't know each other but Jean is like, being an asshole to push Harry to confessing something and Harry kind of takes it in stride, but then Jean targets his substance abuse issues and then they start arguing. Harry has enough composure to not punch him, which disappoints Jean since he was trying to like. Force a way to arrest Harry. Doesn't succeed.)

Kim is intrigued by Harry's assurance that the rival artist didn't do it so he investigates this angle right away. Sure enough, the rival artist hasn't been in the country for a week and he came back in with TECHNICALLY enough time to have committed the murder, but it would be incredibly difficult to do so. Kim agrees with Harry that he was likely being framed here.

(Later Harry calls Kim and is like 'WOW I KNEW HE DIDN'T DO IT!' and Kim is like how did you find that out? And Harry just says something cryptic and weird. Probably like "the wind told me." And Kim rolls his eyes and mutters artists.)

After this point Kim tells Harry that he is hiring him onto the case officially as a civilian consultant. Something he has no real authority to do, but Harry is ecstatic anyway.

During the case Harry digs through the dumpster that belongs to the entire apartment complex that she lived in and finds a positive pregnancy test, uncollected and untagged, and he says with certainty that it belonged to the victim. Kim then informs him that the victim was indeed 4 weeks pregnant.

They dig through the gallery archives together and discover that the murdered woman has only ever worked with ONE artist before: Stan Ickloski (a pen name that doesn't help them find the real man). She was a model for his photographs and he has a dedicated cult following with select artists but isn't well known or well received. Even Harry doesn't know who he is.

Also: Harry gets distracted and discovers a new color. Almost everyone who sees it comments that it's rather ugly, except Kim, who initially doesn't comment on it at all and then later will say it's warming up on him. Harry decides to call the color Ambrosius.

The case culminates when they are having a quiet moment talking about art back at the gallery. It's touching - Harry shares information about himself, his struggles, and how he tries to stay strong and Kim cracks himself open and shares some stuff about his childhood and says something sweet like "maybe all this modern art isn't so bad." Eventually Kim steps away to have his cigarette and Harry wants to look at the murdered woman's photographs some more, convinced that they will "say something to him" (Kim thinks its metaphorical but Harry is being very literal)

While Harry is alone looking at the photographs hung in the gallery (at this point the showcase is the next day, hasn't been cancelled, and her photographs are hung with 'in memoriam' under them) and a man stands next to Harry. They start talking, and it turns into the man ranting, and Harry and the audience quickly figure out that this is Stan Ickloski.

Big dramatic conversation where Harry tries to get him to keep talking and explain his whole thing but he fumbles a check and Stan gets really pissed and stabs Harry. But hey! This finally causes Kim to arrive on the scene and arrest him! Harry isn't even pissed about being stabbed he's like "I survived and also caught a killer! All by myself! This cop shit isn't so hard after all!"

(While he was confessing Stan admits that he he was in love with her, she didn't love him but instead was secretly in a relationship with the rival artist and he was the father, and he took her hands as a final fuck you to her. Harry nods his head and just says to Kim "this guy is majorly fucked up, Kim.")

Even though Harry doesn't care about being stabbed Kim cares VERY MUCH and this is where he will realize that like. Hey he might love this crazy weird artist man. Probably shouldn't do anything about it though!

They have the exhibit and Kim stays for him, something he never would have done ever in his life, and he blatantly only cares about Harry's art, but even he admits that he had a good time. And then they separate. Kim goes back home and rests, waiting for the next case, and Harry stays.

It's a very, extremely, horribly lonely One Day before Harry calls Kim on his personal cell phone and is like. Do you believe in fate? Because I think we were meant to meet each other. They have one phone call, admittedly it was rather short and kind of just them promising to stay in each other's lives, and then when they hang up Kim almost immeditedly goes.

Fuck it.

And drives back to where Harry lives. Except he doesn't know Harry's address! It never came up! Anytime he made sure to see Harry off during the case, Harry just wanted to go to his studio for the night. So Kim checks there and Harry is painting something on a huge canvas.

Painting the portrait of a bespeckled man surrounded by orange and engulfed by a halo.

They smooch. THE END

[melatonin-melanin]

menhera as a movement and how it can connect to race

most members of the menhera subculture tend to have one goal in mind, and it's to be able to improve their mental health one way or another. for those unaware, menhera is a mental health movement originating in japan, where the term was originally defined as "someone who seeks mental well being." you can learn more about it here.

a large aspect of the menhera subculture is creating art in order to vent your struggles. this art is expressed most commonly through mediums such as fashion, painting, and music. any topics are acceptable to create vent art from, and often there will be motifs related to the author's trauma. however, over time, menhera has been watered down to containing mainly medical motifs in creations, as opposed to the original intention of being an outlet for a vast majority of issues that people may struggle with. of course, this doesn't mean that people no longer use it to vent; there are still many active members of the community, at least overseas.

you might be thinking, "that's nice to learn about, but what does this have to do with race? isn't this about mental health?"

well, your race can directly impact your mental health in multiple ways. when it comes to race, it's important to keep in mind that it's not just the color of your skin. race, as it is defined in society, is also your hair texture, facial structure, culture, and traditions. race is ultimately a social category, as it is fluctuating throughout history and is solely determined by people in power. think about it: for those growing up in the U.S., did you ever have to fill out forms for mandated tests? do you recall that, as time went on, more and more racial categories were added as options to check off when asked for your race?

with all of these factors taken into account, it's no wonder that race can affect mental health. whether it's from racial discrimination in multiple communities and institutions, cultural-specific struggles, or trying to find one's own place inside and outside of race-based communities, any and all of these issues can be mentally draining and have someone questioning their self-worth. added to all of this, it can be more difficult for someone to receive help for these troubles when they're not surrounded with people who understand. not every person of color is going to understand what a person with a mental illness goes through, and not every person with a mental illness is going to understand what a person of color goes through, either. depending on the people around them, a person of color struggling with mental illness may feel much more hesitant about reaching out to others because of this.

menhera as a movement was created in order for people to express all kinds of feelings without needing any particular label for what they're struggling with. it lets you wear your heart on your sleeve, and embrace aspects of yourself that you have trouble accepting. you can be beautiful, despite everything. you can be beautiful despite having traits that you've felt so insecure about for the longest time, whether it be skin color, hair type, face shape, cultural significances; none of that makes you any lesser, regardless of what you may feel or what others may have told you. my own race has tied into many of my experiences with my self-image, and my struggle with that view is part of why i identify with the menhera subculture. for anyone reading this who feels similarly, this is sort of my way of saying that you aren't alone!

i feel that, although the medical association is most likely here to stay, the majority of the menhera community can also work beyond only acknowledging certain facets of mental illness. this isn't only referring to the acknowledgment of racial issues, but other intersecting traits that affect people's experiences with mental illness. gender, class, physical disability, orientation; all of these undoubtedly influence each individual's views on mental health, and the community should strive to be more open towards all of these different experiences no matter how messy or uncomfortable they get. after all, the purpose of menhera is to tell ourselves that we're pretty, cute, handsome, gorgeous, and all of those kinds of adjectives despite how our troubles make us feel!

[davekat-sucks]

the whole "hs' point is to spite the audience" thing is just false as well, cause it forgets the whole video game and point and click theme of the site. stuff like act 1's arm bit and such were the type of old school adventure game logic where you're thinking one way while the game expects another. the frustration feels incidental. there were also other moments that would feel straight out of a sierra game, but much like those games, it never feels like the dev was spiteful. an asshole who set up a rake to laugh at you if you stepped on it sure, but not actively malicious.

also you know, that bit of a control is why the jabs at the audience in earlier acts work. if i crash the car, you know thats on me. if you crash the car and blame it on me, then no surprise that i'm just going to think that you're a dick. you can't be a trickster like bugs bunny but also the aggressor.

But audiences/readers giving input commands would later soon be discarded in later Acts of the original Homestuck webcomic. Even now for Epilogues and HS2/Beyond Canon, there is barely anything remotely relating to gameplay. One could argue it's because Alt Calliope and Ult Dirk are taking control, thus we cannot give commands. But it isn't like we are also actively seeing them give said commands to the characters that make them and the narrative worse each time. Any consequences towards the person in charge is not there either and it mostly falls on the characters themselves that had to perform the action (ex: Rose or Jade having the affair, not Alt Calliope being the one pushed it to happen). We do not even have any actual flash gameplay in HS2/Beyond Canon. Like how we got the flash game of John having a strife battle with Dad Egbert as our introduction what the battles will be like for Homestuck. All we get is a shitty visual novel because it is easier to code and made out of laziness to save time and money. It's not even like a walk-around exploration either like they did for John exploring his home upon entering the Medium, the segments in Alterniabound, or even Openbound. It's just click to read next textbox line like in Hiveswap Friendsim and Pesterquest. Doesn't help in the meta sense, it tries to imply the blame is not on the characters or even the ones that trying to take control, but the audiences/readers for wanting the series to continue, despite we had never once given any proper input command. The only thing that counts as being somewhat participant is just by giving money on Patreon for the project to continue. That's why Epilogues/HS2/Beyond Canon has shocking and bad moments because that's the story/characters themselves saying FUCK YOU to to the readers. Some people in the fandom also justify the bad things that happened in the story is because the original webcomic had always been trolling us. Hussie had always had an asshole persona, so it is just in nature for the writers to also troll the audiences. But that has lost all its meaning at this point that it's hard to tell what's genuine or what's suppose to be a joke. So all it ends up being is watching a shitty fanfic and shitty choices that nobody knows who to blame. Ult Dirk? Alt Calliope? Andrew Hussie? WhatPumpkin? James Roach? HICU? Or us for liking this series and had wanted to see it be better and have a legacy? The series fumbled when it was under Viz Media and the only way to read Homestuck is through an unofficial collection. Where the fuck can this series go even as the Kickstarter game is still in development hell after 10+ years since it was funded and the last update on that Kickstarter was just in 2021?

[mayajadewrites]

Levi Ackerman x Reader - Almost

Chapter 3: Taste

Modern AU Levi Ackerman x Reader fanfic I've been dying to write! Levi is my latest hyper fixation so this was bound to happen. There will be other AOT characters in the mix, but remember this is a modern AU!

Chapter Summary: Levi stops in the coffee shop again to ask reader out on another date. We get a bit of Levi's POV and some backstory!

WARNING: SOME SMUT AHEAD

ao3 link

The next day you wake up with butterflies in your stomach and an intense feeling of anxiety in your body.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Your alarm read 6 AM. You have to be at work by 7, and you'll probably walk in to the 9-5 crowd.

To be honest, you barely slept. You kept replaying last night over and over in your head until you eventually nodded off to sleep. Seeing Levi's name on your phone screen made your heart soar, so you knew you needed to push your feelings down. Levi is not the type of man to show PDA, or even tell you he likes you.

From what you can tell, he definitely at least tolerates you.

As you got out of the shower, you saw your phone screen light up.

Levi: Good morning. I hope you slept well.

Levi Ackerman texts like an old man. But its cute.

You: Good morning, I slept like a baby. How did you sleep?

You lied. Obviously. You didn't sleep because you were too busy thinking about the very man you were texting.

Levi: I didn't.

You: ??? You didn't sleep?

Levi: No. I rarely do. I'll see you soon, brat.

It's not very surprising that Levi doesn't sleep much if at all, but that still worried you. Sleep is very important when it comes to basic life functioning, and you know Levi's life is filled with stress.

You put on your uniform and put your hair in a half up, half down style. One day when you own your own coffee shop, there won't be any uniforms.

☕︎⋆˙⟡♡☕

"I can help who's next." You look up from the register, only to see your favorite pair of eyes.

"Medium black tea please." Levi peered through his jet black locks. His undercut looks freshly done, he must've done it after our date last night.

Date? Hang out?

"Will you ever try a new drink?" You smile at him, tapping the numbers in on the iPad.

"No. I like what I like and it hasn't done me wrong yet." Levi handed you his card in between his pointer and middle finger. "Are you busy this weekend?"

"I'm not actually. I have the weekend off." You slide his card and hand it back to him. "Any exciting plans for you?"

"Maybe." Levi shrugged, putting his card in his sleek wallet. "If you say yes."

This caught you off guard. Levi wanted to hang out again? So soon?

☕︎⋆˙⟡♡☕ LEVI ☕︎⋆˙⟡♡☕

I'm not good with communicating my emotions. That is unbearably obvious. I have never been the type to step out of my comfort zone and confess my true feelings to anyone.

This all started with my mother. Of course.

After witnessing her die, I did not want to speak ever again. She was everything to me. Not only was I a child, but I was an only child. A child is not supposed to lose their mom so early on in life.

I honestly rarely have feelings for anyone. I have... 2 friends. Erwin and Hange. So 1 and a half.

I currently see a therapist because I'm 30 years old and I'm getting the feeling that I want to be settled down soon. You know, kids and all that. I'm already a CEO, I have the house of my dreams, but I'm missing someone to share it with.

I've tried dating. No woman ever sticks. Either they just want sex, my money, or attention. They never want me.

When I met her, I felt a tingle in my chest. Seeing her face every morning and getting my tea for me gives me the same feeling every day.

So, my therapist told me to step up and ask her out.

It took me 6 months - but I did it.

Our date, if we want to call it that, since I'm not sure what she thought of it, went perfectly. Her personality meshes with mine in a way that it's written in novels. I can be rather dry with my sense of humor, but she gets it. She gets me.

I didn't kiss her last night, or even hug her, but God do I want to. I'm not sure if I get a taste of her if I'll ever be able to let go.

An image of her was playing over and over in my head as I was showering last night, her black dress clinging to her curves. Her thighs peeking out of her stockings drove me crazy. But I kept my composure.

Obviously, I had to relieve myself. In the shower. Thinking of her.

I haven't even touched her yet and she has me like this.

My therapist said that it's okay for me to feel this intensely, that it's 'normal'. Who even decides what's normal anyways?

I haven't told Hange or Erwin about her yet, and I don't plan too until if and when we decide to actually be together. I don't need their opinions or Hange's excitement rumbling in my ear.

"If you say yes." I sip my tea, looking at her. Her eyes were doe-like, which made the pit of my stomach feel hot.

"Let me know what you wanna do, I'm yours this weekend." She smiled, helping the next customer in line.

Does she know that my dick is hard right now because of what she just said? How little she just said?

I lifted my cup and left the cafe, heading towards my car to go to the office.

Bzzzzzz.

"Ackerman, can you come in earlier? A few people want to meet with you about a project they want you to fund." Hange almost screamed into the phone.

"4 eyes, I can hear you perfectly fine if you talk at a normal tone. Yeah, I'm on my way."

"Well I can't control the volume!"

"You actually can. Goodbye." I hung up, starting the car. I glanced at the window of the coffee shop, watching her smile at customers and hand them their drinks. Her smile warmed my cold heart, slowly defrosting the ice that encases it.

Does she know she's all I can think about?

☕︎⋆˙⟡♡☕ BRATTY BARISTA ☕︎⋆˙⟡♡☕

You cannot believe you just told Levi Ackerman you were his this weekend. Did he think you were a slut? Did he think you were gonna put out?

That thought left your brain when you remembered who you were talking about. Levi Ackerman is a gentleman before anything, which he's shown you.

You heard your coworker Nina call your name, who also happens to be one of your good friends.

"Did that fine ass man ask you out this weekend?!" She leaned against the counter, smiling. "I knew he wanted to get with you!"

"Yes, we went out last night too actually." A blush blessed your cheeks as you washed your hands.

"How was the short king? How were his lips?!"

"We didn't kiss." You looked at her, hoping she wouldn't drag the conversation further.

"What?! So was it even a date? I usually go way farther than a kiss on a first date-"

"Did you date Levi Ackerman?" You tilted your head, emphasizing Levi's name. "I'm not rushing anything. I enjoy his company."

"I'm just saying, he looks rather kissable."

"Obviously, Nina." Your eyes rolled so far they could've gotten stuck in the back of your head. "Trust me, I want to kiss him. I would love to jump his bones. I want to every time he walks in here."

☕︎⋆˙⟡♡☕

After your shift, you were relieved you were off for the weekend. You worked the regular 8 hours today and needed to decompress from all of the customer service.

Bzzzzz.

Levi: I was thinking we could grab a coffee tomorrow morning and head to the flea market. Not a coffee from your job though. Thoughts?

Was this man in your head?

You: That sounds amazing, actually. What time is my chariot arriving?

Levi: 8 AM. Not like you're not used to seeing me early in the morning anyways.

You: Ay-ay captain.

You've never dealt with a man that made plans for you. The fact that Levi suggested quite literally your favorite morning activities for a date made you swoon.

You spent the rest of your afternoon/night cleaning your apartment and finishing the lastest novel you picked up. Nina sent you outfit inspo for tomorrow but you were not in the mood to show off your tits at 8AM.

☕︎⋆˙⟡♡☕

Wakeup call was 6 AM so you could make sure you were ready for your Range Rover chariot to wisk you away. Your shower helped wake you up, even though your anxiety has kept you up most of the night.

You opted for a pair of straight leg barely ripped jeans, an oversized crewneck, and platform white converse. You accessorized with various layered necklaces and small gold hoop earrings.

Makeup with your usual small winged liner with glowy skin and glossy lips. By the time you were done with everything, it was 7:45. You sprayed your favorite marshmallow vanilla perfume before grabbing your purse and checking your phone.

Nina: Good luck today! Kiss those perfect lips!!

You: I'm about to send you a video of me rolling my eyes.

Bzzzzz.

Levi: I'm early again. Your chariot awaits.

You smiled at your phone, grabbing your coat. You saw Levi's car through your window, his eyes glued onto your door. Once you walked out, Levi got out of the car and opened the passenger door.

Levi was wearing a casual outfit himself, black jeans with a grey (cashmere?) sweater, and loafers. God, he smelled good too.

"Good morning." Levi closed your door, getting back in his seat. "You look cozy."

"Thank you, so do you." You smile at him, memorizing every inch of his face. You wanted to lean in and kiss him right then and there, but you did not want to make the first move.

You weren't going to.

☕︎⋆˙⟡♡☕

Once you parked, you walked to a coffee shop that's in the midst of the flea market. Part of you wondered why one of the richest men in the city would shop at a flea market.

Levi pressed his hand to the small of your back, ushering you out of the coffee shop. His touch sent sparks up your body.

You and Levi strolled through the different vendors, sipping your drinks and talking. You caught Levi looking at your hand a little too much, especially when you threw out your cup.

More people started to show up to the flea market, causing the crowd to get larger. Levi looked more tense, darting his eyes at every exit.

"I didn't know it would get so crowded." You try to break his thoughts, looking up at him.

Levi took your hand in his, slowly intertwining his fingers with yours. "I don't wanna lose you." Levi said so casually. You know he meant he didn't want to lose you in the crowd, but you also felt that he meant that in another way.

"Do you want to get out of here and head to my apartment? It's getting too crowded to walk." You suggest, pressing your hand against his.

"Yes please."

You've learned that Levi Ackerman does not like crowds, partially because it forces him to do PDA.

☕︎⋆˙⟡♡☕

You are thankful you cleaned your apartment yesterday. Everything was in it's place, and it smelled good. Not that it didn't usually, but you live alone so if you don't clean it, no one else will.

Levi took his shoes off at the door with you, taking in his surroundings.

"You have nice taste." Levi helped you take off your coat, hanging it in your closet.

"Thank you. I try." You smile, turning to face Levi. "Thank you for this morning." You inch closer to him, watching his eyes search your face.

"Thank you for every morning." Levi leaned in, bringing his hand to your cheek gently.

For what felt like years, you and Levi looked in each other's eyes. You had a full conversation with just your eyes.

Levi eliminated the space between you and pressed his lips to yours. His lips are pillow soft and taste like mint. You slowly wrap your arms around his neck, dragging your fingers along his undercut.

His lips moved in rhythm with yours, sliding his hands down your curves to your ass. You smile against his lips, pressing your chest to his.

"If you want to stop, I-" Levi pulled away, looking in your eyes.

"Levi, please." You almost whimper, bringing his lips back to yours. You lead your bodies to the couch, straddling Levi's waist. You open your mouth as he's kissing you, letting his tongue in. His fingertips softly dragged down your back, making sure to squeeze your ass every now and then.

His tongue slipped in your mouth, exploring every inch of it. You sucked on it gently as you felt your core start to pulsate, begging for attention.

Levi moaned quietly against your lips - you could barely hear it but it happened. Your hips started moving in rhythm, his erection pressing against his jeans.

Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzz. Bzzzz.

You pulled away from Levi, staring down at his pocket.

"I'm gonna kill whoever is calling me." Levi pulled his phone out of his pocket, rolling his eyes at the screen. "I'm sorry, it's Erwin. The President of Ackerman Inc. I have to take this, he doesn't usually call."

You nod and roll off of him, your core needy as fuck and your lips missing his.

[2willowlane]

i'm running out of stuff to put here as a good filler. anyways, love harvey. yeah.

gender-neutral reader, sfw, established relationship

harvey was neither an early bird, nor a night owl. somehow finding a comfortable medium between the those two active hours, his scheduled called for him to allocate his time; rather, staying up late to finish reports, and waking up to then start the day anew again. falling victim to those habitual practices, the doctor always found the hours bleeding into the afternoon to be the most productive part of his day. either if it's because of the appointments booked during those times, or whenever the coffee starts to kick in; there was something he could just ever-so easily rely on to remind him of the fact that this was all real.

it may have just been a bit too simple and mundane at times for the brunette, but harvey still persevered. if he ever woke up, of which he normally does, before the farmer's 6 am schedule, he'd normally surprise them with a hearty breakfast and a sweet kiss. sometimes, he thinks that he doesn't need caffeine to help him get through his days; all he needs is to just grace your lips with his, and he's already smitten; in thought of you.

however, he didn't wake up in time to do any of that. searching around for his eyeglasses on the nearby nightstand, feeling for that familiar figure, he then puts them on; as he is blind as a bat without one (though, he'd argue that those creatures have impeccable vision--in contrary to his). on days like these, he'd try to move out of the covers, trying to not rouse you out of your sleep. you needed it, and plus, it was always ever-so endearing for him to see you so, so comfortable in bed. harvey didn't ever want you to think that all of your hard work has ever gone to waste, and even if you'd ever tend to daydream about what it'd be to live in another life, he'd fully understand--however, with his stay here on the farm, he'd need to think about it over again.

some people say that you'd always want what you never have, and that you should be careful for what you've wished for.

tossing his body to the side of the bed, he'd then sigh, as he was then lost in his thoughts again. a schedule helps stabilize his purpose, though, with harvey knowing how packed and busy one can be, maybe he can take it easy today. even if he was looking forward to surprising you today.

well, maybe later, then.

the doctor does tend to a small plotted garden out front, next to the farmhouse. even though your love does indulge in gardening every now and then, mainly just for his eye for seasonal decoration, he grew some of your favourite crops that were in-season for the fall. he isn't the most well-versed in the realm of cooking, although, he knows enough about certain dietary topics to be informed well. making sure that you'd get the most nutrients from the selection of either greens, fruits, or vegetables (or, a mishmash of either three together), he'd do his best to blend the flavours accordingly so.

if there was anything that he took any sense of immense pride in, other than his work, then it had to have been cooking for you. your husband wouldn't consider it a chore, rather, something he rather looks forward to every day! whilst he does like to take you out to the stardrop saloon every now and then, it filled his heart with such raw affection, seeing that look on your face (right before he smothers it with kisses. oh, how your laugh does a plethora of indescribable things to that man...).

once harvey sits up properly, he knew that you were out of the house already. with him adjusting to the light, albeit, the sleep inertia's getting to him, he checks to then see a written note; underneath a warm mug of coffee. it was funny how he didn't quite register the smell of one of his all-time favourite beverages (was he getting a cold? how ironic of him). moving the cup to the side, and then smirking at the endearing circular imprint it then left on the small letter, he then presented it to himself; reading it between his thumb and index.

it detailed about how you found him adorable in his sleep, of which made him feel flattered, and then talked about how equally as cute his gentle snores were. harvey mumbled a soft "oh, you didn't have to go that far...," under his breath, addressing no one, but still knowing that was the reaction you expected out of him.

when harvey finished then reading about how you had a busy day ahead of him, and how you'll make it up later, you signed it off with you saying you loved him; followed by your name, and little heart symbol marked with pen. flipping the note between his fingers to see if there was anything else, he wasn't met with anything much.

harvey could feel how his grin with digging into his face, as he then was about to get up; to at least change into other clothes, shave if he needed to, and get more comfortable. however, a certain family cat decided to go against what was on his agenda for the day--as it than began to settle between his legs; making itself comfortable. there wasn't much that could be done, if you had a kitty laying on you. deciding to then accept his fate, harvey gave in; giving the little devil its well-needed (wanted) affection and attention.

[mortalityplays]

Hi there! I’m a newly graduated editor and writer trying desperately to make freelance work for me, and/or find a permanent position with a publishing house or company. Do you have any advice for how to start getting clients consistently/how to get your foot in the door? I’ve been struggling to find work since I graduated last spring and it’s been hard to figure out where to start or what I’m doing wrong when a lot of the time I am just being ghosted :”)

I had to go for a walk and think about this. I've written and deleted two very long responses because it's hard to balance what I think I've learned about 'the industry' (fake idea but we can unpack that another time) with what it has made me learn about myself. The latter is not really going to be important or helpful to anyone else's specific circumstances.

Here's what I can boil it down to:

The idea of a 'traditional path' into editing/publishing or a standard entry point and career ladder, is almost entirely made up. I don't think that's on purpose. Getting established is very slow and hard and confusing and full of unexpected opportunities and disappointing dead ends. As people who are fond of narratives, it's only natural that we retrospectively turn our journeys into storylines. Real life doesn't really work like that, though. Take all advice with a pinch of salt; ultimately all advice is just somebody trying to speak to their past self.

All of the best clients I've ever worked with have been friends and artistic peers first, clients second. Some of them were also starting out when I was starting out, and we just traded services to help each other get a leg up. Now that they're well established in their fields, they're in position to vouch for me with bigger clients.

Having someone who can vouch for you is worth its weight in gold. Do a tiny job as a favour, then tell a small client you did that job. Do their small job for a small fee, then tell a medium client you did that job. Collect testimonials. Collect examples of past work. Let me tell you a secret: I didn't go to school for this, and nobody ever trained me. I've never landed a job by talking about paper qualifications because I don't have any. Show, don't tell.

Don't beat yourself up if you have to take other work to make ends meet. Not only will you be happier, healthier and more stable with that consistent income, but life experience will make you a better editor. I spent years working in bars and restaurants while I was doing sporadic small editing jobs on the side, and I loved it. It taught me about people, and how to speak to strangers with total confidence, and how to demand the value of my work, and how to spot when a writer doesn't know their shiraz from their malbec. All experience is work experience in the arts.

On that note, SPECIALISE. Pick out a subject you're especially passionate and knowledgeable about, or a genre or medium where you're particularly determined to excel. Study up on it. Look for clients who need specific expertise, and sell yourself to them. Generalists are everywhere, but you might be the only 'amphibious vessel technical manual editor' in your state. Learn to adapt your offering to the client and tell them why you're the key that fits their lock. Lie sometimes maybe I don't know shh I didn't say that part.

I think that's all I've got that isn't unbearably navel gazey. It's really hard work and I haven't finished the marathon either. I may still end up going back to generic office jobs on and off in the future. Mostly I try to follow the only really good advice an artist has ever given me: Do what you can, with what you've got, for as long as you can. At least then you can say you did.

[scrumpledorph]

Asian Man Who Isn't Kim - Hello officers, how can I help you?

YOU - Excuse me for asking, but I couldn't help but wonder, are you Ori-

KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant clears his throat, raising a brow towards you as he does.

PERCEPTION [Medium: success] - He did both of those things considerably less subtly than he usually does.

REACTION SPEED [Challenging: success] - Good god man, you can't say that word in this day and age!

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: success] - He doesn't want you to say it either. He doesn't want to believe you'd say it. he interrupted the conversation to give you a moment to think of something else.

EMPATHY [Medium: success] - They both know that's what you were about to say, you should apologize.

AUTHORITY [Impossible: success] - Well, too bad for them. You're the cop here, and Kim's superior officer. Start over, and say it again. Slow this time.

HALF LIGHT [Formidable: success] - Yeah, he's a minority member interacting with two policemen. Go ahead, say it - he knows what'll happen if he brings it up.

EMPATHY [Trivial: success] - Don't do that.

VOLITION [Trivial: success] - Agreed.

DRAMA [Medium: success] Sire, he interrupted you early enough through the word to give you plausible deniability that you weren't saying it at all! Quick, think of another word that starts with 'Ori'!

Wait, I'd still like to know where he's from.

[Conceptualization - Medium 10] Think up another word to say.

I don't see what the big deal is. It just means we orient all our maps around there, right? It's a compliment!

Say it again. Slow this time.

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Challenging: success] - Original - no; originally. Ask him where he's from originally.

SUGGESTION [Medium: success] - Of course: It's an innocent question to ask, potentially important evidence gathering, and shows interest in his background. Problem solved!

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Trivial: failure] - All but one: you have absolutely no memory of anywhere in the world other than Revachol.

Wait, I can't be blamed for that, surely? They never taught me about other countries in school!

Apologize and start over.

[Encyclopedia - Easy] Try to remember a single country with a primarily Asian population.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Easy: failure] - Not one. Come to think of it, you can't recall any specific Asian cultures either. Though, you're pretty sure they all live on the same continent, right?

YOU - You have got to be fucking with me.

ENCYCLOPEDIA - I'm afraid not.

PERCEPTION [Easy: success] - This is taking a while, both of them are starting to stare at you awkwardly. Better say something, quick.

AUTHORITY - Only one option left.

EMPATHY - I truly despise working with you all.

YOU - Are you originally from The Orient?

[bitethebulette]

Lighthouse Paintings

So, I wasn't sure I was going to write this, because this is a blog about writing mostly, but I'm also an artist so this has honestly been bothering me. And yes, it's about Dragon Age: The Veilguard!

People keep bringing up the "frescos" in the Lighthouse and I'm questioning if these are actually frescos. These look more like paintings to me or in technical terms - murals. Examples and explanations under cut to save my timeline and minor spoilers if you haven't seen the game:

I will be the first to admit I know nothing about frescos. However, after playing Inquisition, I was really confused by the meaning of the paintings Solas had done and so I kind of did a deep dive and read everything other people have said about them.

(Please click this if you want to know more. This blogger really covers it all. I recommend it if you don't already know about how frescos are made or anything about the frescos from Inquisition.)

Based on the reading I've done that goes into depth about the frescos Solas paints in Skyhold - I find it really hard to believe that the walls of the Lighthouse are also frescos. From what I can tell these are done with bare bones paint. My reasoning is as follows:

You can clearly see the lines of the stone blocks. If this was covered in the layer of plaster needed to make a fresco, you wouldn't see the stone blocks behind it. Yes, plaster can crack over time, but it wouldn't crack perfectly at the points where the stone meets. And you see it's very consistent - you can see every block behind the paint.

The way the paint is flaking off. Painting on stone isn't exactly permanent. I did some quick searching and the durability of paint on stone is pretty weak. For outdoors they give it about 5 years at most - and this is with masonry paint, which I doubt he used. Since these are inside they lasted quite a bit longer. And the paint is flaking off in thin sheets, instead of chunks. If this was plaster it would leave a noticeable texture on the wall as it fell off, since the paint is part of the plaster.

He left behind a paint palette. If you read the above blogs you will have seen the colors for frescos and mixed in pots. This is regular paint. What kind? I can't tell. It could be oil or it could be egg tempera, if we want to pick another old painting medium that no one really talks about anymore. I don't see anything else laying out to suggest this, though. My gut feeling is oils. (Seeing these giant paintings and those small brushes, though, are giving me a headache. Solas, we work smarter, not harder!)

It's possible that here in the Lighthouse Solas wasn't as concerned about longevity when it came to the work he decided he wanted to surround himself with. I think he saw all of this ending in his death, per words he spoke to a romanced Lavellan - "I walk the path of death" (loosely translated, of course). He's obviously painted other moments of his life and taken it down, too (at least the best he can. Let's be real, paint might not last forever on stone, but it sticks just enough that it doesn't disappear completely, either). Maybe he thinks it'll be another regret, eventually, and he'll want to be rid of it.

Or, maybe, he also just loves to paint. It's a different technique from the frescos and maybe isn't as time consuming so he doesn't have to spend as much of his free time working on it, because, gee, it sure is hard and busy work trying to tear the Veil down!

OR - this one might be a reach - these were him testing out the designs he wanted to put onto the walls of Skyhold! How he would have access to all of this during Inquisition - I don't know! He starts the frescos in Inquisition before Morrigan shows up with her eluvian. I haven't read any of the related novels, but I've read blurbs that might lead us to believe he was still working with his agents even as he was helping the Inquisition. How? Again, no idea. This is all speculation on my part.

Anyway, if you made it this far, thanks for reading, I guess. Let me know what your thoughts on this are, because the paintings being called frescos in the Lighthouse have been driving me crazy. If you have additional info that might lean more towards these actually being frescos, let me know. The evidence that I see, though, states otherwise.

As a treat: Here are some more pictures of the paintings in the music room. I am doing a 2nd playthrough on my main PC so I can get better quality images for references, so I do not have pictures of the "Regrets" yet.

And some small grafitti-esque paintings found in Solas' hideout in Minrathous.

[littleliterarylesbian]

The Bones that Break

The rise of one power and the fall of another, a prophecy of the dead and forgotten. The Gods have never been kind and never truly lifted a finger, why would such things change now?

- a marauders era camp half blood au

(tysm @eleiasblack for helping me out with the French translations ^^)

Sirius is nothing like his family. Not like his father who always has the smell of liquor and smoke on his breath and who has different lipstick stains on his collar every week's end. Not like his mother who has nails just as sharp as her words, who will use anything she can get her hands on to discipline either of her children. Not like his twin sister, who's cold in both touch and feeling, who follows what is told to her like a blind duckling mistaking a hawk for its parent. He can't be like any of them, for he doesn't believe in the Holy God Above, for he believes that every man is equal, for the sight of both men and women make him think that he might be the devil himself. He relishes in the thought. Devils and demons are handsome, made from sin, and who is he if not a believer that the years of cousins marrying cousins have brought him both his looks and the torment in his mind. He would like to say it's a fair trade off, even when his face is always covered in scratch marks and his back is littered with burn scars, bruises, and stabs. It doesn't matter to him, he's convinced he'll die before he even hits marriageable age, the cousin he's betrothed to might just have to suffer and marry outside of the family tree as he was the only born male of the generation. Oh the horror of such a thing. The thought makes him smile. He has no reason to live, not here, in this dark desolate house, who's walls can hear almost everything that's said inside, a home in which not even the one you came out of the womb with can be your true confidant. The floorboards creak even when no one walks along them, the walls groan from just how long the home has been standing, the dark walls never painted a color above deep green or medium gray, chairs in sitting rooms used more for decoration then use with how uncomfortable they are. He wants the house to come crumbling around him one day. He thinks it will be a mercy with all the sins he's already committed in his fifteen years of living.

He wishes he could leave. His body hurts and the blood on his face caused by the talons- not nails, they're too sharp to be called nails- belonging to Mère. Sometimes he wonders if she sharpens them just for him. Sirius wouldn't be surprised. He's just glad she only used her hands this time around. When she reaches for the umbrella, or worse, he can hardly sit down for the next few days, never mind lay on his back and stare at the ceiling as he is now. He wonders about the future while he stares at his ceiling, not his own, but the world’s. If one day he could act on his desires on men just like he can on the pretty church girls that twirl their hair and ask him how he got the scar that sits on his eyebrow with fake sincerity. He wonders if one day people would care more about the pain that wracks his body as his own mother kicks him when he's down. He wonders if anyone can be truly happy. He sometimes wonders if the world is dying instead of changing for the better, if the amount of bones he finds during his outings are trying to tell him something that he can't figure out quite yet.

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