#but really i do hope my rambling was at least a TINY bit of use

[grapecaseschoices]

Are there any picrew you recomend for black characters because artbreeder is whitewashing the living shit out of my black characters and it's honestly driving me insane.

I also wanted to ask what inspired your ocs and their appearance? They always have such cool character designs.

I love djarn! I will always cape for djarn -- not just re: skin tone but hairstyles.

Here are a few others:

One

Two

Three - more supernatural looks, I don't remember how they do hair but the skin tones were good.

I think ummmandy's are pretty good, off the top of my head -- but I've only done one OC with their stuff and that OC is light-skinned.

As for your second question wertewqqwertew YOU'RE TOO SWEET!

I can't even say what influences me anymore. I just go with it. I will say when I was first starting (and sometimes when I'm stuck on style and lewks -- I'm assuming that's what you mean by designs, if not lmk!), I used to look up the vibes inspired by their zodiac signs. Sometimes even their enneagrams and that would give me a direction.

Personality and history also helps. Collecting looks you see around/that inspire you and saving them for when you have a character that fits.

Like, for example, you have Kendis and you have Bethany Josnel and you have Alana

I sometimes joke that Kendis is a Leo born as a Taurus. So I usually gravitate to lion aesthetics for Kendis (especially og and twc Kendis). Reds and golds. Kendis is also so vibrant and LOUD, so those colors work for them. She's bossy but she's fun -- so it's like satin suits with flower designs on them. Sweater sets but with bold patterns. Kendis' father is an artist and their mother is a park ranger, they grew up very black but in a very midwest area, so you're gonna get the protective hairstyles with outfits that marry those vibes. They're also so highly queer, and have always been, so the style needs to hint at that. (I try my best) Kendis is actually one of my more unique but also more difficult characters to dress sometimes, because for me there's a lot of beats. But sometimes I see a look and I'm like that's just SO KENDIS.

For Josnel -- it really was just like dang, I haven't had a character who dresses in oxfords and slacks in a while. I call his style grandpa core. LMAO. Honestly, it fits his personality: shy, reserved, responsible. It went the same with his on stage style. I liked the idea of having someone introverted that showed a vivid part of themselves through their music. I usually don't make musicians, so I felt it would be fun to have a character who had such a distinct persona. I felt loafers vs flower pattered boots was PRETTY distinct, lol.

Alana is pretty straight forward -- a romantic and a fashionista. I haven't had such a girly character in such a long time. I was also influenced by her FC, Zion was wearing soft make up and dewy lipgloss one day, and I was like yes, a face for romantic academia. LMAO. A face for flirty cottagecore. (And maybe it's not my place to say as a cis woman, but absolutely and always in love of that tiktok of that trans girl swirling in her skirt for the first time. Isn't it just so fun to go WHEEEE!!! And that's Alana. She's soft and flirty and sweet and she wants you to twirl with her.)

I hope this helped in a way. But in the end follow your heart, and your eyes! I think my designs just fit the character (other than Kendis' which I am very proud of), I don't think they're like ~special~? But you're saying they are! And what I do is trust where they lead me/fits my babies, and I think trusting your instincts will help you too.

[shiningjustforreid]

aura

where Spencer Reid meets someone who shares his pain - if only for a bit.

word count: 1774

a/n: hi! this is my very first published fic (even though i’ve read for years!) and it’s nothing major, but i thought it would be fun to finally write! i hope you enjoy <3

warnings/tags: 18+ (implied intimacy), migraine-era spencer reid, reader has migraines, reader is called ‘girl’ once, heavy themes at the end, spencer rambles about stars, hospitals, spencer calls reader ‘angel’, no use of y/n

- ✩ -

Hospitals may be one of his least favorite places.

“Did you know that actually on any given day 1 in 31 people in a hospital have a hospital induced infection? these include things like a surgical site infection, MRSA,”

Cue the smell of the antiseptic, drowning out the smell of people dying. It’s too clean.

Makes him on edge. But then again, most things do. When people give him that look that clearly says ‘shut up.’ He seems to pull in darkness, trouble, and maybe it’s because he creates it for himself.

Currently, he’s sat, in one of those uncomfortable hospital benches, foot tapping anxiously, sunglasses on, because everything hurts. Notably, his head and eyes.

The lights. The lights build a nausea in him that’s like a tidal wave, build an agony behind his eyes that threatens to reduce his thought process to ash. He still squints, behind the black plastic; it’s not enough, not enough to quell the pain entirely.

“No, I’m, about to go in, actually.”

Is what he should’ve said. But Spencer Reid, a forward man, an eloquent man, is not.

“Can I sit here?”

Quiet, but polite. He makes the mistake of looking up. Your hair is messy, probably from the wind outside, and tucked away from your face. The coat you have on is a deep admiral blue, and it just makes the lack of color in your face all the more apparent. A green bag, slung on your shoulder, as you fiddle with the zipper. Chapped lips form into a halfway smile, and, most noteworthy of all, you have black, plastic glasses on.

“I have an appointment, it’s probably, it’s right after yours, but if I can’t sit here, it’s okay, I-“

You’re backtracking, which means you’re nervous, probably because he’s just been looking at you with an impassive expression, even more unreadable due to the glasses. He clears his throat, and opens his mouth.

“No, um, actually I’m waiting. Hopefully not much longer though.”

God help him, because there’s a shared struggle here, between the two of you. He sees it, in your tense shoulders, the way you sit down slowly, as to not generate any more pain than necessary, the way your hands tremble like leaves in the wind when you adjust your glasses after slowly turning to him. Your halfway smile stays put, though, even through the slow movements.

You move like that, because every movement seems to intensify the burning hot behind your skull.

He knows. He doesn’t know you. Not at all.

But he knows your pain. And maybe that’s enough.

You don’t nod, because it’s unnecessary movement.

“Yeah, I finally gave in and booked an appointment. I’ve had to call out of work for them at least 3 times in the last two weeks.”

Them. The migraines. You don’t need to name them, you both just know. You’re clearly both there for a reason.

“I’m uh, Spencer, by the way. I’ve had mine for a bit now too.”

You tell him your name, and the sound makes a welcome warmth flood through his chest. A star, tiny, but burning, is born. Gravity in his chest, tugging you in, as your heat floods his heart.

Bad idea, bad idea - the alarm bells are clanging. He doesn’t know how sick he is, and he really doesn’t know how sick you are. This could spell disaster, and yet-

He’s intrigued. You radiate this nervousness, a distinct desire to be understood, seen, known. He knows that desire. He has that desire. He wants to know you.

“I think mine might just be due to stress, but, I don’t know. It’s the easiest explanation to deal with.”

For your sake, he hopes that’s all they are. Stress.

And, you’re still sitting there, head bowed, when the nurse comes out and asks questions.

She asks about hallucinations. As if this hell is all in his head. You sit there, silent, biting your lip, worrying the cracked skin in your teeth, your hands picking at the fraying edge of your coat.

When he comes back out, somehow even more tired, even though all he did was lie there and answer some questions, he speaks your name, softly.

As if he has the right to.

You jump a little, look up, and remove your glasses. He stares, he can’t help it. Visible, is the pain, the way your ocular muscles are tense, your skin without color, but you smile, still.

He makes you smile.

“Everything okay?”

Spencer nods hurriedly.

“Fine, for now, I have to get to work. You uh-you’re next?”

“Mhm. Will I—is there any chance I’ll see you again, Spencer?”

You don’t know him. You know him, you must.

“Uh, I mean, I—you want to see me again?”

When will he learn to speak when it actually matters?

“Only if you want to, I-I know I would like to see you again.”

He leaves the hospital, that damn hospital, with a small slip of paper, with ten numbers scrawled in purple ink, and your name below it, a tiny smiley face beside it.

When he gets home from his next case, he fishes that paper out of his messenger bag and types each digit into his cell phone with shaky hands.

Is he tempting fate? Perhaps. But fate answers, your soft voice coming through the phone.

Soon, he finds himself at a café with you, sipping his saccharine sweet coffee and telling you about his job, or some book he just finished, in detail that you don’t seem to protest against. It’s refreshing, really - just to be listened to. To be heard. When you leave, you give him a barely-there kiss on the cheek, a soft goodbye. The star burns brighter.

“I had my follow up appointment.”

He tells you, on the third date, as you two sip coffee once more - are these dates? Would Morgan be impressed? - trying to keep the conversation casual, yet relevant. Your eyes widen with interest.

“And? Did they give you answers?”

He makes a face, shaking his head.

“No. Well, yes, but they told me it’s psychosomatic.”

All in his head.

Your face falls, and you look truly sympathetic.

“I’m sorry, Spencer. I knew how much you didn’t think that to be the case.”

He takes comfort, then, in the way you hug him goodbye, your cheek pressed against the cotton of his cardigan, eyes shut against the light. He tenses, only for a second, before his arms curl around you, resting against your coat.

“We should do dinner.”

He mumbles into your hair, before he can stop himself.

A real date.

And you do. You have dinner, and he makes you laugh, even though it’s quiet, like a bell ringing at Christmas, tiny, joy-filled, and the star in his chest just glows. Your face is tense, though, and he can’t figure out why. You won’t say. either. You never do. You keep your responses composed, and careful, calculated. Like you’re afraid. He wonders why, but won’t press it. You are made of nervous energy. He knows this now.

A few months, of appointments for both of you and cases for him where he aches for your hand in his and coffee and dinner and museum dates, and one ice skating excursion he will not mention, and then—

He makes another mistake then, when he asks you to come over, after a case.

“Just for coffee, or to talk, not to-you know, unless that’s what you want, I—“

Yet, that’s how he ends up with you in his bed, in his lap, your warm hands sliding over his skin like you’re in awe, your wide eyes meeting his own, because he dimmed the lights, and thank God neither of you are hurting right now.

He takes you apart, piece by piece, with his mouth on your collarbone and fingers across your ribs, learning, seeking to know. Because that’s what he wants, to know you, fully, in every way he can, until there’s nothing left for him to study.

After he watches you tremble under him, with his name on your lips, he realizes he’ll never be able to memorize all of you. You’re too extensive, with the blush on your cheeks and the way you cling to him and the way your eyes sparkle for a moment, just a moment, before they dim again.

You’re tucked into him, under his chin, as he traces shapes mindlessly into your back with his fingertips. He feels that star, burning bright in your arms, for millennia to come.

“I love you.”

You smile against his chest, before you speak again, choked up.

“You shouldn’t.”

“Whyever not, angel girl?”

Because you are like an angel, come down from the heavens, his angel, gracing his life during some of the most incredible pain he’s ever felt.

“They told me I’m dying. They found the source of it all.”

And the star fizzles, and sparks, and slowly, a cold ice begins to dwell where the star was. Months fly by, and yet drag, each day feeling long but the weeks short.

He finds himself in the hospital - miraculously, his migraines have given him respite today - your hand in his, his eyes on you. You don’t say much, you never did, but now, he feels like you don’t ever speak at all.

Until you do.

“Spence?”

The light in his chest flickers, illuminating his darkness.

“Yes, angel?”

“Can you talk? About anything? I just wanna hear you.”

He nods, and his voice gets quiet, almost breathless, the longer he speaks.

“Did you know that stars actually are simultaneously pulling apart and being pushed together? The heat from inside the star creates a pressure that causes the atoms to separate, but the gravity attraction forces them back together, as it burns. The bigger a star is though, the less time it takes to go through that fuel.”

He stops, looking down at you. He wonders if you’re listening.

“But when the heat is gone, when it stops burning, there’s nothing to counteract the gravitational pull, and—“

And it collapses in on itself.

“And it just sort of sucks everything else in without its heat, the light, if it’s large enough. Pulling everything in, everyone in-“

He’s said too much. You open your eyes, your voice barely a whisper.

“I don’t want you to do that. You won’t, Spencer, I swear.”

In a rare moment of strength, you tug yourself up, to hold his face in one hand.

“You burned before me. You’ll burn again.”

He nods, desperately trying not to weep.

But I won’t burn like I did with you.

“The brightest stars burn the fastest, so we must love them while we can.”

- Anna Todd

[sourscheming]

Why the Tacomic scene in II 2 17 isnt as bad as some of you are making it out to be

II 2 17 SPOILERS BELOW!!

ive seen many people say they absolutely despise the tacomic scene in ii 2 17 due to many reasons. mainly being that the scene felt too rushed or that microphone was heavily out of character.

and while i can agree with these claims when looking at this scene from a first glance, ive realized this scene requires a lot more additional context and reflection to fully understand, using tiny bits and pieces left for us. and its my job to help glue them up! hope you enjoy my rambling :)

Arguement 1: Mic is very OOC

when first looking at this scene i can agree that yes microphone is very out of character. her acting so nonchalant, just playing off tacos actions. but let me tell you why shes not as ooc as some of you might think. first: a tweet from brian

“mic had always had a tendency to let taco off the hook” and this is very true! she will always try and play off taco’s actions due to how much she cares about her. and. with this being a life or death situation, she really didnt want to make a mountain out of a molehill and potentially die without any closure with taco. her playing off tacos actions might feel like its ooc, but it makes so much more sense whennyou consider their history and the fact thst in someways microphone still yearns and loves taco. she yearns for taco a 7/10 it used to be higher!! (source: brians streams) she still really loves taco despite everything.

i know what pissed many people off was microphone acting so… natural. she wasnt mad or anything. she was just so chill about it all when she shouldve been mad, right? i definitely agree with that, but most people seem to be forgetting this line

(nice callback to this scene btw)

but back to the point; mic hears everything. microphone always knew taco was in the hotel because she heard her. and doing this she had time to reflect and gather her thoughts so she wasn’t screaming at taco or getting mad irrationally. and keep in mind microphone most likely heard taco crying and screaming about pickle dying, i dont think she wanted to push her to do that again. hearing taco, the one who presented herself to be so strong and evil, just sobbing her heart out mustve been terrifying.

now i also wanted to bring up this:

microphone knows about the events of episode 15 and was most likely told taco died and why. she knows taco can die due to heavy emotional distress. acting angry and irrational and not sitting down to talk about wouldve stressed her out more and they couldve potentially lost her too. the reason why shes so chill about isnt because shes not upset about everything, it was because if she was, she risked the chance of loosing taco.

another tweet from brian to show microhone doesnt forgive taco yet, but she definitely woud in the future if taco proved herself:

and again it may not look like this in the episode, but microphones nonchalant attitude comes with a lot of jabs at taco, showing that she doesnt truly forgive her. plus, microphone never utters the words “i forgive you” once.

but the reason why shes able to move on so easily is because of how well she knows taco. taco had always struggled with apologizing, as seen in episode 13. she’s almost never used the word sorry consciously.

microphone had always been a big softie for taco being at least a bit sincere, so imagine how she felt when taco went fully sincere. and she knew she couldn’t just hug her and say i forgive you on a whim, so she sorta had to play it off to keep everything on track.

and this scene is so. impactful because of just what it represents. microphone had always been about “doing the right thing” and taco begrudgingly respected her wishes. but to see taco DOING the right thing mustve been such a turning point for microphone. shown her that taco CAN change, that she wants to. it solidifies that the care that microphone had wasnt one sided, taco LEARNED something from her. shes learning how to be better. shes trying because she wants to be with microphone. i think thats what really strikes a chord, she gained something, a friend.

Arguement 2: The scene felt really rushed

oh i definitely agreed with this at first. this segment will be much shorter because it’s basically hammering into your head that HEY they were in a LIFE OR DEATH SITUATION!!!

microphone needed to quickly rush taco out in order to keep her safe, they needed to do it quickly so they wouldnt die. again, mic wouldve reached out sooner but the situation was so stressful she only did it now. taco probably wouldve died if she didnt come out, and they all knew the onpy way they could pry her out was with someone she cared about.

do i wish they got 5 more minutes to talk? fuck yes, but also keep in mind they barely had time to do anything, so much was happening all at once they had to shoehorn something in. and with the points i listed earlier again, this was probably the best they could do due to circumstance.

CLOSING THOUGHTS

overall, while i do think this scene was rushed, theres still beauty to be had with it. its still really impactful when reflecting on it and i dont think it devalues the tacomic arc as much as some of you make it out to.

i wish there was more to this scene but i think what we got was pretty substantial especially considering everything that happened in ii 2 17.

they both still care for eachother, they both loved eachother so much, that they were able to put their grievances aside so they could spend their final moments together.

thanks for reading <3

[urgonnaneedabiggership]

Host of a Ghost

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara (Spiderman: Across The Spiderverse) x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language. Spoilers (Miguel's backstory is mentioned). Mild violence. Very, very light mention of a foiled SA (not to reader). Some angst.

Word count: 4.1K

Short A/N: This man has become my hyperfixation since I watched the movie and I'd been wanting to write something with him and today finally the muse came to me do I deliver you this decent-sized thing I wrote. Hope you like it <3

PART II

“Unusual” wasn’t a word you would’ve used to describe your life at all. At least not until about a year ago.

It was unusual to find a spider with such an odd color palette roaming your apartment since you were used to more dull-colored typical critters. It was also unusual that you didn’t panic enough to turn the apartment upside down to look for the thing before it bit you, but there was too much work to do, and a million notes from Dr. Connors to go over. It was equally unusual that you hadn’t rushed to the hospital the minute you noticed the tiny marks on your thigh.

“I mean, if it was really dangerous, it would have hurt more.” Was your reasoning to ignore it and keep scanning the pages before you. Nobody said pursuing a Ph.D. was without sacrifice. 

By the time you tried to stand up to make more coffee just to end up collapsing on your kitchen floor, it was much too late.

From then on, “unusual” was pretty much every day’s motto.

Having a nightmare that night about being suffocated and unable to escape just to wake up hanging upside down and wrapped in sticky shit was the first clue. Turns out you were actually able to produce said sticky shit at will in the shape of a thin thread, then you discovered the wall-climbing abilities, and before you knew it you were roaming the city at night trying to get comfortable threading between the tall buildings, running across rooftops and challenging yourself to climb this or that building as fast as you could. You felt indestructible, alive. It was wonderful.

You’d never forget the night of your first save either. For several reasons.

It was an ordinary night, right before returning to your apartment, when a violent shiver abruptly ran up your spine and every cell in your body commanded you to stop. When you did, a scuffle in a nearby alley caught your eye. A young girl was violently shoved against a wall by a man who pressed his hand against her mouth. The same second his hand came dangerously close to the zipper of her jacket, you practically tackled him from above and pinned him against the ground, having no clue of what to do besides throwing punches at his face until you knocked him out. A whimper coming from a dumpster behind made you realize you had an audience.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath, remembering your uncovered face, the only solution at hand is to wrap your scarf around your head to try and hide as much as possible, “Oh god this feels too much like cultural appropriation for my taste,” You kept nervously rambling to yourself as you slowly approached the dumpster.

“Um…hi,” You greeted, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

Being met with nothing but silence, you were about to leave when a soft voice replied.

“No. He didn’t. Thank you so much.”

“Is there…I don’t know; is there somebody you want me to call?”

“I want to call my mom.” She replied, her voice still shaking, “He took my phone.”

“Right. Phone. Okay.” You quickly made your way back to the unconscious man and pawed his clothes looking for it. He let out a groan in protest.

“Yeah it doesn’t feel right, does it asshole?” You muttered as you retrieved it from one of his pockets. Then you shoved him onto his stomach to tie his hands and legs behind his back before returning to the girl.

“Here. It still works,” You just held it over the dumpster, seeing nothing but her pale hand as it reached out to take it before you took a few steps back. 

“No, wait,” She immediately pleaded, “Please don’t leave me alone with him.”

“Like hell I am. I’m staying right here.”

So you waited with her until the police arrived. However, the minute you saw the flickering lights and heard the approaching siren, you retreated into the dark part of the alley and climbed onto the nearest building to escape through the rooftops.

It wasn’t until you were back in your apartment that you realized you’d been smiling all the way home. Carefully shutting the window behind you, you let yourself fall onto the couch and screamed joyfully, the pillow muffling the sound.

She was okay. A person was okay because you could intervene and do something about it.

However, a new wave of shivers flooded your veins so abruptly that you sat down immediately.

“Yeah, I know how that feels,” Came a feminine voice from the unlit kitchen, “Being able to help, I mean.”

You scrambled to your feet and started walking backward. However, the voice didn’t remain hidden for too long. A woman emerged from the shadows, dressed in red with a yellow hairband pushing her near-afro hair back. She greeted you with a soft smile.

“Your reflexes need polishing,”

“My…?” You repeated, dumbfounded.

“And you have to learn how to fight properly. Randomly throwing punches isn’t always going to cut it,”

“I’m sorry, who are you? Why are you in my apartment? Were you following me? Do you know about…?”

“Whoa, slow down, kid. I know you have questions, and I might be able to help you with that. But you’re going to have to come with me.”

“Alright, I’ll…let me just get my car keys,”

“Oh, sweetie,” The woman said in between laughs, not malicious but truly amused, “You have so much to learn,”

You were starting to wonder why she had elongated that “o” like that until, after pressing a few buttons on the device around her wrist, something that you would’ve described as a “black hole on LSD” erupted in the middle of your living room.

That night you learned that her name was Jessica Drews and that she was completely right about you having so much to learn. With a four-second-o.

Over the following months, you became capable of things you didn’t think possible. Walls that took you a minute to climb became easy obstacles that didn’t take up more than fifteen seconds of your time, your fighting skills had also improved exponentially under Jess’s tutelage, and of course, going from a life where you could count your friends with less than one hand to being constantly surrounded by amazing (no pun intended) Spider-People who not only understood the changes you were going through but warmly welcomed you into their circle was more than you could’ve asked for.

Well, perhaps some more willingly than others. And by others you meant him.

He, who seemed to be always around, silently watching but never intervening.

He, who despite being allegedly “always locked up in his lab” always seemed to personally oversee your training since day one.

Whom you’d tried to greet as gleefully as you did the others just to receive, if anything, a vague nod of acknowledgment. In your first three months, you had spoken maybe four times. Well, you had. He only hummed, nodded, or answered in monosyllables. You knew better than to waste your energy with people like that, but for some reason you were unwilling to just accept Miguel O’Hara didn’t like you and that was that.

“For some reason” being code for “I’m one second away from fainting every time he as much as looks in my direction,”

You weren’t a child, for crying out loud. You were aware that no matter how cold, distant, and seemingly indifferent the leader of your new team was, he was an insanely attractive man. Even with the fangs…no, especially with the fangs, for some reason. His whole aura that screamed “completely-inaccessible-frighteningly-powerful-twice-my-size-man” had you harboring a huge crush on him within two months of meeting him. So painfully unrequited that it was embarrassing.   Just the fact he could ignore your greetings and surely never think twice of it but you would spend the rest of the day wondering what you could’ve possibly said to make him at least say “hello” back made you want to scream into a pillow until your throat burned.

It was right up there with the time he’d muttered ‘much better’ when he saw you land a kick you’d been practicing and those three seconds kept playing on your head for the rest of the week.

The night of your first mission you decided you were going to prove your worth, not to your crush but to your team leader.

“I told him you’re ready,” Jess said with a proud smile, “He’s going to call you in sometime throughout the day to let you know where you’ll be going and with whom, probably me. How do you feel?”

“Excited, I guess,” You replied, pressing your lips together anxiously, “Also nervous. I don’t want to screw this up.”

“With me as your mentor? That’s unlikely,” Jess replied with a wink, giving you an encouraging pat on your shoulder as she walked away.

However, the day continued normally. You did some assigned tasks here and there, which mostly included helping Spider-Byte to keep everything running smoothly given your background in the tech field. You grabbed lunch, then thought it would be a good idea to train some more before going away.

You were beginning to lose all hope when, as you leaned down to fix some wiring, Lyla popped right beside your head and called your name so loudly you hit your head against the metal and hissed. One year and still you hadn’t used to the way she appeared out of nowhere.

“Oops, sorry,” She promptly apologized, “Well you’ll have to walk that off, Miguel wants to see you STAT.”

“How am I supposed to walk a head injury off, Lyla?” You joked, rubbing your forehead as you rushed across the halls with the holographical figure floating after you.

“Not in my code,” She replied using her usual excuse.

When you walked into his working space, Miguel’s back was turned to you as he used a digital pen to do some annotations on what looked like blueprints of new equipment. After he didn’t react to your presence for a few seconds, you hesitantly walked closer and cleared your throat.

“That looks nice. Is it a new suit?” You asked, as always, trying to start a conversation.

“I just received an alert about the…” He stopped and sighed as if saying the silly nickname was physically painful to him, “…the Go-Home-Machine. It said there was a small power overload since we sent back that Vulture from the 192-011 Universe.”

“Yeah, but Byte and I are already working on that and it should be fully functional by tomorrow morning,” You replied, a bit confused as to what that had to do with your mission.

“Good. Let me know as soon as it’s fixed.” Miguel hastily replied, not even turning to face you until a whole minute passed and he realized you were still standing there. Even then, he just barely turned his head.

“That’s all, (Y/N). Thank you.”

That’s all? What do you mean that’s all?

“Was there something else you wanted to do?” He asked. Shit. You’d said that out loud.

“I…Jessica told me that I’m ready to go on a mission and that today you…”

“I said I would think about it, and I have.”

He fell silent again. No matter how attractive he was, you were starting to truly get pissed at his stupid theatrical antics.

“And?”

“And the answer’s no. You’re not ready yet.”

That felt like all the disappointments in your entire life added up and multiplied by ten. Especially because of how easily he dismissed you despite being aware of how hard you’d worked, how many nights you decided to forgo hours of sleep just to train and polish every movement until it was as close to flawless as you could.

“Not ready yet?” You practically hissed in a voice you almost didn’t recognize. Hell, it was enough for him to put down the pen. “Not ready yet? That kid Pavitr has been here for what? A month? And he’s already going off on missions. Alone, I might add!”

Unsurprisingly, he did not answer.

“And he’s very, very good, I’m not saying he isn’t. But I’m just as good. And more experienced, both at being here and at being a Spider-Person. I have completed every training scenario you’ve thrown my way, worked my ass off to understand every bit of information regarding interdimensional traveling, and studied the protocol to control anomalies, what is it that you still need me to prove?”

He took a deep breath. So deep that his shoulders rose, flexing the muscles of his back in such a way that if you hadn’t been so angry, you would’ve been too distracted to keep arguing. Even with your blood boiling, you couldn’t help but stare and feel your stomach tense at the sight.

“Do you like being part of this team, (Y/N)? Do you like training in our headquarters, having access to all our information, and maintaining contact with the other members of this society?”

“Of course I do,” You replied immediately. Slowly, Miguel turned around to face you completely and walked towards you, descending the two small steps that separated you until he stood towering over you. Even if your knees were about to give in to this unexpected closeness, this wasn’t the time to fold. You held his glare defiantly and folded your arms in an attempt to mentally guard yourself against him.

“Then I suggest you get in line and do as you’re told,” He said in a low voice. But it wasn’t threatening, or condescending. It was an odd, flat tone. Tired, perhaps. Almost as if…as if he was reprimanding you against his will.

He was almost unbearably close. You could feel his breath hitting your face. If right then all logic flew out of the window and you stood on your tiptoes you could…

“I’ll do that when you’ve earned my respect, and I have a policy of reciprocity when it comes to respect, Miguel. I’ve been in line for a year, I’ve listened, learned, and improved so much that if you’re still looking down on me, then it’s your problem, not mine. And no self-righteous, big-headed…”

“Just get out,” He cut you off, once again turning his back to you and walking towards the blueprints again.

“Oh no, I’m not finished…” You insisted, trying to follow him. However, as soon as you gave one step forward he turned around so violently that you stumbled backward and stared at him with something you hadn’t felt towards him up until then: fear.

“Yes, you are,” Was his only reply. As dull as the others.

While you could only see his face for a moment before he walked past you and left the room, something about his expression stuck with you even hours later, when you laid on your bed at night and combed through the scene over and over. You thought he would be fuming, maybe even shocked that you’d dared to talk to him like that. The last thing you expected was for him to look…upset. Hurt, even. The mere thought of you being able to hurt Miguel O’Hara was as ridiculous as imagining a goldfish fighting back against a shark. Still, you realized that even if you thought he was in the wrong, you felt bad about how things went down back there. You would never understand what being the leader of hundreds of super-powered people was like. Commanding each and directing their particular abilities as best as he could all while maintaining a vigilant eye on endless strings of causes and effects because he knew firsthand the consequences of being careless with them.

Even if he had made a mistake with you and of course you still wanted to address it later, right then all you wanted was to apologize.

And so, not even an hour later you were roaming the halls of the HQ, your heart beating furiously as you got closer to his quarters, wondering what you could even begin to say.

When the automatic doors slid open, you stepped inside and turned back to look as the doors closed behind you. Well, no turning back now.

“Miguel?” You called, looking around the large room, pondering whether a first-name basis was okay. After everything that had happened, going back to Mr. O’Hara sounded terribly stupid. Then your eyes landed on the row of screens where he spent most of his time. An extremely ill-timed wave of curiosity filled your chest as you approached them, taking another look at the seemingly empty room before stepping onto the platform. Getting bolder, you reached out your hand and brushed your fingertips across one of the screens. It immediately came to life with a blue glow, startling you and making you curse under your breath. You were about to look for a button to switch it off when a video started playing automatically from where he had left off. He was in it, holding a young girl. Miguel wasn’t just smiling. He was laughing. His laugh was exactly as you’d pictured it. Not particularly loud, but hearty and low. He had the kind of laugh that made you unwittingly smile as well as a newfound sympathy filled your chest as tears filled your eyes when you pictured that being taken from him just like that. How could one have a family, and then one day be completely alone and keep going?

With a renewed disposition to make things better between you, your hand reached out for the switch that would turn the screen off until a third voice piqued your interest. It belonged to whoever was holding the camera.

“Would you please stop hoarding her? I deserve some mother-daughter time too! Here, hold this thing and give her to me,” The voice said between laughs. There was something about that voice that made an extremely cold shiver run down your spine.

“Fine, you’re right. Bueno pues, mijita, ve con mamá, ¿quieres ir con mamá?”

The picture became blurry as the camera switched places with a giggling Gabriella, who could be briefly seen stretching her arms toward the third figure.

“Alright,” Came Miguel’s voice again, “But when I turn the camera towards you I want both of you to blow Daddy a kiss, can you do that for me?”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned the camera around.

And then you found yourself staring into your own eyes. They weren’t quite the same shade as yours, and “your” hair was styled differently. And “you” had freckles. But otherwise, it was like staring into an interdimensional mirror. Then, your voice spoke.

“Okay sweetie, let’s humor him, shall we? Blow Daddy a kiss. And another one from me because now I have to use both arms to hold you, my big girl!”

Miguel laughed again at the way his daughter’s face lit up at being called a “big girl”.

“¿Saben que las amo a las dos, verdad?”

“And Gabriella loves you too. I think you’re…nice enough.”

“(Y/N), I don’t think you marry somebody for ‘nice enough’, mi amor,”

“I love you too. Against my better judgment.”

With one last interrupted laugh, the video ended, and, in a cruel irony, the once again black screen showed your actual reflection.

Except this time, it wasn’t the only one. With a loud gasp, you turned around. After seeing him in that video, it became much more evident that the Miguel in it was nothing but a memory of the past. And in a matter of seconds, everything shifted into place like a gloomy puzzle. His expression was unreadable, though he wasn’t even looking at you. His eyes were fixed on the empty screen.

“I wasn’t supposed to ever see that, was I?” Was the only thing that came to your mind after a lengthy, tense silence.

���What good would it have done?” He replied, almost numbly.

“So that’s why you’ve always…stared?” You kept pushing. Against your better judgment, you thought.

“It was at first,” Came his only response. Like always, it seemed like you would have to tear the answers off him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, turning your head to look for his eyes. Even then, something warm filled your chest. Something that made your heart beat so quickly you felt as if it would stop at any moment, and it spread all over you no matter how much you tried to fend it off. Hope.

Surprisingly, this time he caved in and looked at you. Still, the answer never came. For the first time in all the time you’d known him, Miguel O’Hara was at a loss for words. And that said more than anything he could’ve come up with.

“And you expect me to believe that, by sheer chance, you happened to catch feelings for somebody who is practically your wife’s interdimensional twin?”

“It sounds so much worse when you say it like that,” Was that a hint of a smile? An attempt at a joke? One year and the only time he’d bothered to be decent to you was when you were talking about how much you looked like her?

With an annoyed look, you moved away from him and started to make your way to the exit.

“Do you think I wanted this?” He spoke rather loudly, his whispers going out of the window as he started to follow you across the room.

Miguel O’Hara following you to keep you from leaving. Just hours before you would’ve died of happiness at the mere thought of this scenario. Right now, your brain was a flurry of thoughts and emotions that you didn’t know how to handle.

“I was doing an amazing job at keeping my distance. Watching you from afar, seeing you laugh, grow, win everybody over with that awfully big heart of yours, and still I reined myself in,” He continued, “Today’s the perfect example. You thought I didn’t respect you, for fuck’s sake! I respect you so much that every single day I have ignored you and pretended you are nothing but another face in the halls. Damn it, (Y/N), I couldn’t even look you in the eye when for months you’ve been all I’ve wanted. All because I didn’t know if I loved you or what was left of her. And I didn’t want you to get involved in shit that’s mine to figure out.”

Hearing him not only withdraw his previous statement of you not being capable of doing things and accepting the problem was his and not yours made you stop in your tracks.

Fine, the sudden (though odd) love declaration had something to do with it too.

“So you don’t think I’m not ready?” You asked, turning around and even taking some steps towards him.

“Are you serious? I’ve watched you closely all these months. You learn in days what others do in weeks. You push yourself way more than so many of our members and yet I’ve never, ever seen you become overconfident. Today you never said you knew everything. You said you knew enough.”

This time, it was you who remained silent. There was something else you wanted him to elaborate on, and from the look in his eyes, you realized he knew damn well what it was.

“You were right. The problem wasn’t yours. It was mine all along. I could manage to push you away and keep my feelings at bay. But knowing that you were eventually going to go out there and take so many risks...worst case scenario, you could get hurt or not come back at all. That was too much for me to handle, s’all.”

“Were you afraid of losing me…?” You started to ask just for him to interrupt you.

“Yes. Very much.” However, you lifted a hand to stop him. You weren’t finished.

“Were you afraid of losing me, or were you afraid of losing her again, Miguel?”

Three seconds later, when no answer came out of his mouth, you were about to turn around once again when he rushed and stood in front of you. For a second, you thought he was going to grab your shoulders to keep you in place. Not wanting to come off as if he was forcing you to stay, his hands just hovered on both sides of your shoulders without touching you.

“Listen, she wasn’t a picky eater like you are. But I swear that woman never drank enough water and every time I see you there’s either a bottle in your hand or laying around. And she was so, so messy. It took us at least ten minutes to find the keys every single time…and Spider-Byte said you sort your tools by size and color. Color. (Y/N), I don’t think even I…”

“Are you getting somewhere with this?”

“You’re not her, (Y/N). You have never been, and you never will, I know that. I want you to know that I wouldn’t want you to be any other way. I love you.”

After that, he moved out of the way and folded his arms.

“If you want to go back to your dimension and stay there for a while…or for good, I don’t know, I completely…”

“I love you too, you know?” You cut him off, pressing your lips together after blurting out the three words that’d been haunting you for the past months. Words that up until now you were sure would never leave your chest. When you turned to look at him, you saw in his eyes what minutes ago had filled yours. Hope.

God, his face was so hauntingly beautiful when his features softened.

“What do you want from me?” You finally asked him, your voice shaky from the effect you knew his answer would have regardless of what it was.

Miguel moved closer to you almost hesitantly, his eyes never leaving yours. When he was close enough, he reached out with both his hands and slid them up the back of your neck, his thumbs tucked in front of your ears as his warm palms engulfed the back of your head so he could hold you while he brought his face down to press his forehead against yours.

“Mi amor, I’d give you all I am and be happy with whatever you’re willing to give me for now,”  

You knew it would take some time for you to get used to hearing him say things like that without wondering if you were the only one in his mind when he did. It would be a while until you felt completely certain that you were made of flesh and bone and not just a ghost in his eyes, but it would happen. You saw his eyes as he drew his face closer to yours and when your lips touched, you knew that it would definitely happen sooner or later. Until then, you thought as you stood on your tiptoes when he almost desperately pressed his lips onto yours, he was very much worth the wait.

[xenith-eats-stars]

Nightcrawler Aquarium Fic bc im insane

warnings: none i think, he just goes to the aquarium by himself. 1st Person from his POV

notes: first fic waooowww!!! too scared to write any ship stuff 😭 very self-indulgent, he deserves to be happy

I’m back here again. It must be the 5th time this month! I come whenever life gets too stressful. When you’re inside, nobody notices blue fur, not when everything is dark, and the only light comes from the blue fluorescents inside the tanks. Blue. A beautiful color, really, but also the source of so much… annoyance. Gott, Kurt. You’re rambling again. Go inside.

A quick glance around, and the coast - heh, coast. ocean pun - is clear. 

BAMF!

Ach, that echoed quite a bit… nobody noticed, I hope. Aquariums are rather quiet, save for the occasional noisy chatter of children. Children whom, while small and cute, tend to scream at the sight of me, so I’d rather avoid them, at least for today. If there are any here, that is. It’s a rather slow day, which is why it’s a perfect day to go! Nobody to gawk at me, just me and the fish. Or is it the fish and I? No matter.

Another great thing about teleporting is that I don’t have to pay to get in. I always feel a little guilty about it, which I suppose is a good thing. But this place always ends up getting at least a little money out of me. It’s not my fault they sell such cute things at the gift shop! Getting to take a little souvenir home is half the fun of coming here, if you ask me.

“I think I’ll see the sharks first this time…” I mutter to myself, slinking off towards the entrance to the ocean exhibit. Sharks are like me, I think. They’re given a reputation for being dangerous, but once you’re around them enough, they’re friendly. The sharks here don’t do much, just swim back and forth. But they seem content. Just looking at them, watching how gracefully their bodies cut through the water, it makes me happy. I’ll move on for now. Tschüss, sharks!

Oh, touch pools. The poor fish in here must never get a break, what with everyone trying to touch and grab them. Maybe they’ve gotten used to it? I doubt it. I’ll leave them alone, give them some peace and quiet. I don’t feel like getting my hands wet, anyways. 

I dive into the shadows as a father and his daughter walk through the entrance into the touch pool room. They don’t notice me, thank Gott. But how sweet, a daddy-daughter day at the aquarium! It must be fun getting to not only enjoy the fish, but also watch as your child enjoys them too. It’s a good bonding experience. I’ll go the way they came in, give them some space to enjoy themselves.

A floor-to-ceiling tank, taking up an entire wall of the room. Inside it, hundreds of jellyfish. They pulsate and wobble, aimlessly floating, all of them in their own little worlds. I wonder what they think about. Do they think? Or do they just let life take them wherever? Should I be more like the jellyfish? Or should I move on and stop being so existential? I choose the latter. These are creatures that eat and defecate from the same opening, after all. Yuck. Goodbye, and good riddance.

“Aah!” I yelp, suddenly being blasted by a flurry of bright color. I slowly open my eyes, and am greeted by the sight of the coral reef tank. “Oh, Scheiße… rather bright bunch, you all are!” I joke, the fish not responding, because why would they? All they’re occupied with is looking colorful and darting around the various corals. How many kinds of corals are there, even? An information screen catches my eye. “6,000 known species?!” I mutter in disbelief, “Was in aller Welt?!” I look over it again, and sure enough, the number is correct. I shake my head, chuckling to myself. A flash of orange, just in my peripheral. 

A clownfish, barely the size of my hand, darting around. He’s a nervous little guy, I assume. A shame, really. He’s a beautiful orange color, with white stripes on his tiny fish body. I wiggle my finger near the glass, and he swims to it, investigating this strange, blue intruder. The clownfish circles around my finger, examining it from every possible angle. I move it up, and he follows it. Back down, he still follows, his little fins flapping eagerly. I smile in spite of myself, my tail swishing back and forth. We’re like kindred spirits, the clownfish and I. I’m just as curious about him as he is about me. Eventually, he bores of our little game of chase, and swims off to rest in an anemone. How cute, it’s a like little house! Just for him! I wonder if he’s renting. His landlord must be one of the sharks. I wave goodbye to my scaly little acquaintance.

A few quick stops by the freshwater tanks, and I feel serene enough to return home. On my way out, I stop by the gift shop, because why would I not? Odd, there’s nobody at the counter. I suppose I’ll just leave the cash for my purchase. Perusing the selection of soft plush toys, I see a stuffed clownfish. I pick it up, feeling the soft fabric of its body. I give an experimental squeeze. Soft. The tag proudly announces that 50% of profit from purchase goes to conservation efforts for wild fish. The toy’s button eyes stare blankly into my yellow ones. Oh, Warum nicht? I pay for the stuffed toy - $19.99, rather expensive! He’s worth every penny - and BAMF! away.

I arrive in my room, and I set my new plush friend on my bed, right next to my other aquarium souvenirs; a stuffed octopus, whale shark, and seahorse. I give each of them a pat on their soft heads. They look like they would make for a great band. I chuckle at the prospect. The octopus would play the drums, no doubt. The whale shark, the guitar. The seahorse would play the saxophone, and the clownfish would sing. That would be fun. 

“You’re being ridiculous, Kurt.” I reprimand myself, “Sea creatures can’t play instruments. Much less stuffed toy versions of them.”

Ah well. No matter. It’s good to let your imagination wander, methinks.

Thanks for Reading!! :3

[lovelettersfromluna]

Hi! Let’s talk :)

Let’s start off with the usual. How are you? Have you been eating well? Drinking lots of water? Getting enough sleep? Taking care of yourself? I hope you have been. This year has been really fucking crazy despite us just now finishing January, but are we really all that shocked?

I’ve tried making this post a few times, and I really hope I get this one right. I have so many thoughts and so many things I want to say, and it feels hard to convey all of it inside one tiny post. I wish I could just give you a voice memo of me rambling for 30 minutes instead.

I know what you’re thinking. “Luna, why didn’t you just make a post about taking a hiatus? Surely you were aware of how hectic things would get in a months time?” And you’re right! You are very very right. I made that post with every intention of coming back as permanently as possible, however things happen very quickly when you least expect them to.

To make a very long story short, I’m working now! Which greatly affects my posts on here. I’ve been working full time, alongside being a student full time, which fills my plate up a lot more than it was before.

I mean this when I say this, but I am not going anywhere, this page is not going anywhere. I have every intention of fitting this into my schedule, because this is my hobby. I write to destress, I allow my imagination to run rampant and write to my hearts content. However, there will be changes.

I plan on implementing a post schedule for this page, because if there’s anything I need to stay organized right now, it’s structure. I haven’t fully figured out when that’ll be, as I haven’t been working for that long yet. Once I have a better idea of my permanent schedule, I’ll be getting on that as soon as I can to set aside time for myself to write.

Regardless of what my work schedule will be, I won’t be on here the way I was when I first started my page. Posts will be a bit more spaced out, because I’m just one person. I’m only capable of so much, and I’m trying to avoid anymore burnout as much as I can.

This year alone, I’ve done things that have terrified me my entire life. I’ve had to cross so many hurdles within the span of a month that have overwhelmed me, exhausted me, and made me extremely proud of myself all in one. It’s a part of growing up, and I ask for you all to bear with me a bit longer.

I wish I could have all the free time in the world to be with you all, and give you the work you want, but my brain is only capable of so much.

This is not a hiatus post, so please don’t feel like it is. This is simply me discussing the future of this blog, because things are going to change. I understand if this upsets you, because I’ll miss writing until four am to my hearts content. I’ll try to do that whenever I can! I just won’t be able to do it as often as I used to.

Thank you all for your patience and kindness while I try to navigate my time here. This little space we’ve created together has been one of my greatest achievements and it makes my heart glow knowing I’m able to share it all with you. I’m still here, writing, reading, and doing what I can with the free time I have, and the idea I have are almost overwhelming. I can’t wait to share it all with you.

As always, Love Luna 🤍

[paluding]

Sims 2 ArchLycan Follow Up: a “fake” proof of concept

Don't get your hopes too high though, but well, here it is! It’s kinda possible to make this werewolf face show up when the Sim transforms.

This is a quick and messy proof of concept I made, and as such, it comes with its problems and a ton of stuff that breaks with it. Just to name a few:

-All failed plastic surgeries when using Dr. Vu's Automated Cosmetic Surgeon will result in a werewolf face instead of the original ones. 

-As you can see in the video, the werewolf face stays after transforming back into human.

-The only way to restore their human face is using SimPe. You need to do that every time the Sim transforms back into human.

-The werewolf face doesn’t “blend” with their original faces, so every werewolf will end up transforming with the exact same face (I don’t even think it’d be possible to do this properly, but just saying, that’s another quirk).

So yeah, this is clearly flawed. But hey, at least there’s a tiny, little ray of hope that some of those issues might be fixable when done properly? My modding skills are pretty crappy for this project, so any kind of help is greatly welcomed! 🙏

Long modding ramble under the cut on how I did this.

As I mentioned in my original post, the only interaction I knew of in the game that changes the Sim’s face geometry is when the Plastic surgery station fails, so that’s where I figured I could grab some stuff and replace it for this werewolf transformation.

First thing I did was slap a Generic Sims Call (Apply Face Geometry Override) primitive in the Events - To Wolfman BHAV. This would make it so when the Sim transforms into a werewolf, it would apply one of the failed plastic surgery faces. To make things easier to test I modded @velcositro's Shapeshift Master Mod instead of the vanilla interaction.

All that was left to do was replace all the failed surgery faces with the werewolf one. These can be found at globalcatbin.bundle.package in the University EP files (thanks to @simnopke for showing its location here, I don't even know how long it would have taken me to find them myself). For this test I extracted all 108 Facial Structure files and replaced them with one I generated with a Sim that had the adult female werewolf face.

And that’s just about it. Obviously it’s a quick test, pretty far from perfect, but it was cool seeing how one could repurpose some stuff in the game to make this. Now there’s quite a few things I’m wondering if they’re even possible to make a proper release of a mod to restore this werewolf face:

-Is it possible to make a “custom” Generic Sims Call (Apply Face Geometry Override) primitive that grabs the faces from a different pool, instead of the one for the failed plastic surgery?

-Speaking of which, how could one make said custom pool for the werewolf faces? I think it’s kinda similar to career/special outfits/overlays? At least it looks a little bit like it when I look at the game files where the failed plastic surgery faces are.

-This one I highly doubt is even possible. You can’t replace the Facial Structure of the Sim with the genetic one in game, right? That is, replacing Facial Structure number 2 with Facial Structure number 1. The game always saves a maximum of 2 Facial Structure files on the Sim's Character file. That's what can be done in SimPe to restore the human face. The first one (Instance 1) is the genetic one, and the second (Instance 2) is the last one that got applied through plastic surgery. If there was some sort of function or primitive or whatever that could be called to do it in game, it would be just a matter of putting it on the Events - To Human BHAV and call it a day.

This test I did only covers applying the face when they go through the transformation. I'm not really sure how to automatically make it load that werewolf face when they're already transformed, either when loading a saved lot, or having one spawn on the lot at the right time of the night. It seems more straightforward for the werewolf body overlay, but not for the face.

Please keep in mind that my modding knowledge is limited. If something needs to be corrected or is just plain wrong, please let me know!

Anyway, that’s all the progress I have made for this project so far. Honestly I don't think I'll be able to get it done, but if someone else feels inspired seeing this post, then please go for it. Maybe someday this will be a reality 🤔

[grandlinedreams]

You probably hear this a lot, but your writing is amazing. I’ve spent hours just going through your works and they all tug at my heart. Is it possible to request a lax x reader where he realizes he’s been overworking the reader a bit to much. Like, asking her to do something while she’s already working on something else he asked for. And maybe poor reader gets frustrated but tries to hide it.

Hiya!! Thank-you so much, it really does mean a lot to me that people enjoy my rambling hehe ㅡ but also absolutely, I can do that!! I hope that this is to your liking bb!!

He doesn't mean to, you know he doesn't.

But you're still a human, and there's only so much that you can do at a time ㅡ and Law tends to forget it. Sure, he delegates tasks to the others, but you seem to be the one he entrusts more difficult ones to and you're honored, truly ㅡ you just wish it weren't so much all at once.

Case in point, he's sent you out into the main town of this island for supplies, both crew-related and not, the list varying wildly from pantry staples to medical supplies.

You don't mind, you tell yourself firmly. After all, he's done so much for you ㅡ the least you can do is take on whatever he asks of you without complaint.

It's a whirlwind of activity as you flit from place to place, amassing a pile of neatly wrapped packages, boxes, and brown paper bags that only seems to grow with every stop. (How you're going to get all of this back to the Polar Tang is beyond you, you have no nifty powers like your Captain.)

Your muscles ache by the time you find a second to rest, studying the remaining items on the list and eyeing the sack full of berries that Law had sent you out with. You're almost done ㅡ and you smile to yourself, pride tempered by the abrupt growl of your stomach. Right ㅡ you haven't eaten yet today.

"I'm making good time," you mumble to yourself, "so I could grab lunch..."

Neatly folding the list, you tuck it into your pocket along with the money for said items, retrieving your own pouch of personal coin and set off to find something to eat.

The closest place ends up being a little shop with a refrigerated display case showing off various sandwiches and salads, along with neat rows of carefully shaped onigiri. Your expression lights up.

"Could I get two of the grilled salmon onigiri, please?" Given that he'd been in the middle of studying when he sent you off, you have no doubts that Law has yet to eat anything either ㅡ and since you're using your own money, he has no room to complain, either.

It's as you're watching your items be wrapped up that you become aware of the low 'purururu' from your pocket, rummaging to retrieve the tiny transponder snail. It's made in your Captain's likeness, from the tiny speckled cap to the shadows under its eyes.

Hurriedly handing the waiting cashier the berri needed, your attention shifts back to the snail as you answer it. "Captain?"

"[Name]," Law answers, "have you finished getting supplies?"

"Well no, Iㅡ"

"Good, I need you to add a couple more things." You bite back a groan of weary annoyance. Of course there's more. It takes a second of fussing to find the list, mouthing a "thank-you" when you're handed a pen to scribble it down. "Have you got it?"

"Yes, Captain." There's the click on the other line, and you huff. "Wouldn't kill him to say 'thank-you'..."

Food stacked as carefully as you can on the pile of purchases, you set off to resume retrieving the rest of the (now longer) list.

"Do you need help with that?" Concerned, the last store owner watches as you struggle to lift the massive pile, parcels at the top wobbling.

"No, I've got it. Thank-you though," you answer, trying to keep the strain out of your voice as you stagger off in the direction of the Polar Tang, muscles straining under the weight.

How you manage to get everything onto the submersible, you don't know ㅡ only that your body aches something fierce by the time you've hauled the last armful onto the deck.

Vision obscured by the boxes in your arms, you jolt as your boot hits the corner of a box and makes you scramble to correct your balance.

"Gotcha!" Fingers snag in the back of your shirt to keep you from falling over, but there's nothing to be done about the sway of the items on top ㅡ the food you'd picked up for yourself and Law ㅡ and you watch as your food topples from it and busts open on the deck.

Wonderful.

"You good?" Penguin peers at your face, finding you staring silently at the mess of food on the floor. Law's onigiri, at the very least, remain neatly wrapped on the stack of boxes. "It's okay, we can clean it upㅡ"

"[Name]." Both you and Penguin look up to find Law standing by the door, taking in the stacks of supplies before he continues. "I needㅡ"

Need. Need, need, need ㅡ frustration mixes with exhaustion in the way you tremble, snatching the onigiri from the pile and striding towards Law.

"All due respect, Captain," you say flatly, shoving the food into his hands, "but either ask someone else, or do it yourself."

And then you're gone, trying not to stomp your way to the bunkhouse. Law turns, startled by the way you've talked to him, the thinly veiled insubordination ㅡ and then down to the pair of onigiri, smell of grilled fish reaching his nose.

"To be fair," Penguin pipes up, "you've been running [Name] pretty ragged lately. They're usually the last one to go to bed and the first one up, so maybe...go a little easier on them?"

Law frowns. Has he been asking too much of you as of late? You've never complained, simply offered a "yes Captain" and continued on. Tasks got done, things completed. But then again, you shouldn't have to complain for him to know it's too much for one person to handle.

It's guilt that has him turning to head for the bunkhouse, knocking tentatively before he opens the door and steps in.

Your back is to him, blanket tugged up around your ears, and he can see you tense as he approaches. "If you're coming to tell me my punishment for talking back," you say, "I'll accept it."

You sound so tired, and it makes Law feel even worse for continuing to add things to your seemingly never ending task list. "I'm not going to punish you," he says. "If anything, I think I'm the one who deserves punishment for not noticing how hard I've been working you."

"I don't mind." You still won't look at him. "It's just a lot to handle at times."

"I know." Law plays with the wrapping of the onigiri. "And I apologize. I rely on you for a lot, and I appreciate what you do for me, for this crew." He pauses. "I also apologize for not saying that enough."

You're quiet for several long moments before you roll over to look at him. "I forgive you."

A small smile tugs at Law's lips. "Good," he says, "but I need you to do one more thing for me." You frown as you sit up, eyeing him warily before he offers you one of the onigiri. "Eat with me?"

You blink, then take it from his hand and meet his gaze, an answering smile curving your own lips. "Of course, Captain."

[silent-as-the-grave]

Potion of Glittering Radiance

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Pairing: Astarion/Gale Content Warnings: None, unless you're offended by sparkly vampires Prompt: Written for the Bloodweave Inn's New Years Challenge event- "Wizard"

Gale's latest alchemical experiment goes awry, and Astarion happens to be in the crossfire. Whoops.

-

Gale stood hunched over his makeshift alchemy station, carefully stirring a bubbling concoction that reeked of moss and candle smoke mixed with something unpleasantly bitter.  Various ingredients lay scattered across the table, fresh, dried, and oozing, each more obscure than the last. His voice rambled on at a low murmur to no one in particular, as to be expected from the party's resident wizard.  

"A little bit of this… then the essence of—ah, no, not that one." Gale sighed and ran a hand through his already tousled hair, wholly focused on the task at hand. "It's meant to be a Potion of See Invisibility, not something that turns one's skin puce. Come on, Gale, you know better than that."

On the other side of the table stood Astarion, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed while watching the process with mild amusement.  He was quite accustomed to Gale's eccentricities, and he usually wouldn't bother supervising while the man tested and brewed whatever strange elixirs struck his fancy, but tonight? Tonight, Gale had promised something actually useful—a potion that would allow him to see invisible enemies, a priceless tool for a rogue like him.

"Well, darling," Astarion drawled, glancing at the mess foaming in Gale's cauldron. "I do hope this potion works better than your last experiment. While that little 'Potion of Increased Perception' technically worked, none of us could look Shadowheart in the face for hours.  Without laughing, at least."

"I assure you, I had no idea that my Beholder's Oil had gone rancid," Gale muttered, a flush creeping up his neck and coloring his cheeks at the reminder of his inadvertent failure.  His talent with the Weave did not, unfortunately, bleed into innate alchemical ability.  Still, he'd been trying to make up for his lack of knowledge through brute force and sheer stubbornness since escaping the nautiloid.  Anything to give them a leg up in the struggles to come.  "At least it only gave her one extra eye."

"Yes, right in the center of her forehead."  Astarion flashed the wizard a wide, fanged grin and leaned closer to the table.  "It was glorious."

They both know that Astarion's words were one of many tools the vampire used to mask what's really going on inside of his pretty head.  There's often more left unsaid in the background– tucked carefully away after a lifetime of clawing for his very survival.  Astarion might appear bored, and his words might seem mocking, but he's also keeping Gale company when he could be elsewhere doing any number of things.  

In moments like this, the wizard can't help but compare him to a semi-feral cat: fearful and dangerous, yet creeping closer in search of affection despite it all.  

Huffing in something akin to fond exasperation as his mind conjured the image of a tiny hissing kitten with Astarion's eyes, Gale shook his head and pulled his attention back to his project.  "This one will work, I'm sure of it. It's just a matter of... skill.  And precision.  Then you'll all be thanking me for making such a valuable contribution to the group."

With a flourish, he added a final drop of some clear, viscous fluid to the cauldron.  The potion fizzed and frothed, turning an unsettling shade of fuchsia before it began to boil over.  Gale's eyes widened.

"Oh no."

Before either of them could react, the potion hit the brazier's glowing coals and exploded in a flash of sparkling, radiant light.  Gale cursed as the bright light momentarily filled the space around them with a blinding glow before settling into a soft, twinkling sparkle that hung in the air like a thousand fireflies.

"What the hell was that?" Astarion snarled, as if Gale could possibly see enough to tell what he was talking about.

Moments passed, and the overwhelming luminosity that had temporarily overwhelmed his sight finally began to fade.  Blinking his stinging, watery eyes, Gale found himself squinting down at the cauldron that had once held his carefully concocted elixir, horrified to find it tipped on its side and nearly empty while motes of light continued drifting lazily in the air.  

"Well, that wasn't supposed to happen," Gale admitted, his voice strained.  He had no idea what had gone wrong this time.  "What in the hells–?"

Then he looked up at Astarion, and promptly froze in shock.

Astarion's skin—his flawless, pale skin—now glittered like a thousand tiny stars had been embedded into his very pores. Every light caught on him, from the miniature alchemical brazier to Gale's conjured candles to the moon's glow filtering down from the sky.  With every movement, the vampire's skin shimmered brightly, as though he were a creature composed of pure magic.

Rather than create a Potion of See Invisibility, the wizard seemed to have turned his lover into a walking disco ball.  

"Oh, this is just perfect. I may seem like I always want to be the center of attention, but this is over the fucking top."  Astarion scowled at Gale, brow furrowed and voice dripping with sarcasm, though it was hard to take his ire seriously as he fluttered his shiny hands around.  His skin sparkled in every direction, reflecting the light in a way that made him seem less like a feared creature of the night and more like an eccentric showgirl from a forgotten circus.  "Do you have any idea how impossible it will be for me to do anything vaguely rogue-like in this state?"

The wizard wilted, unable to look the other man in the eye. "I—I didn't mean for this to happen, Astarion! I must have made a minor miscalculation with the formula, but it should fade within an hour or two.  Hopefully.  You'll be fine!"

Astarion raised a pale eyebrow, his eyes glinting with the reflected light of the brazier.  And the rest of him, honestly. "Minor, you say? What happens if it doesn't?  How am I supposed to walk around without attracting every inquisitive or predatory gaze in a ten-mile radius?  I have the subtlety of a comet!"

Gods above and below, what a mess.  Gale's shoulders slumped as he took a step closer, trying to apologize again. "I am sorry, love.  I was sure I had the recipe figured out."  

Hands stained with oil and ink brushed soothingly over the vampire's bare forearms.  As his fingers lightly skimmed the surface of Astarion's skin, each touch made the glitter seem to dance and shimmer even more intensely.  Gale couldn't help but admire the beauty of it.  "But now, well... maybe we can use it to our advantage? Think of it—your newfound radiance could light up the darkest dungeons. You're a beacon of power and beauty."

"Don't you dare try to flatter me after that ridiculous blunder of yours, Wizard," Astarion scoffed, though his words held very little heat.  He crossed his arms over his chest, every movement making his skin catch the light like a glittering beacon. "I wouldn't even make it to a dungeon in this state.  I'm more likely to be abducted by enraptured villagers who think I'm some sort of celestial being come to bless them with... fashion advice."

Gale couldn't bite back the snicker that such a mental picture brought to his lips.  "May the gods deliver us from such a tragic fate."  His hands came to rest on the elf's narrow hips, giving them a gentle squeeze as he leaned in to bump their noses together.  "I'll make it up to you, Astarion. I swear it."

His lover's expression finally softened, and Gale nearly breathed a sigh of relief.  "You'd better," Astarion replied. "Because as much as I might appreciate the glitter of gold and jewels, vampires are not supposed to sparkle."

"No, I suppose not."  Gale couldn't help but laugh despite himself and the absurdity of the situation.  It really was a ridiculous notion. "Though I must say, if anyone could pull off the whole 'celestial glitter bomb' look, it's you."  

"Hush, you menace."  Something about Astarion's gaze seemed to darken after another moment spent in thought, his pale lashes drooping.  "Darling?"

"Hmm?"

Reaching for the collar of his shirt, Astarion pulled it back just enough to expose a sliver of his gleaming chest to view.  With his hips cocking, lips parting, and a fall of near-perfect silver hair curling around his sharp cheeks, the vampire struck a playful pose that left no question as to his intentions.  "Do you think that little potion of yours affected my entire body?"

"I… I have no idea." Oh dear. Gale could feel his eyes glaze over as his mind immediately started racing through the possibilities. "Perhaps it would be prudent to conduct a, ah, thorough examination?  Just to fully assess the results?  For the sake of my research notes and future experiments, of course."

"Of course.  I expect nothing less than a proper inspection after what you've done to me," Astarion purred, his voice silky smooth and full of promise.  The elf turned slowly and cast Gale a sultry look over his shoulder, as if daring him to imagine the length of his lean form bare and shimmering.  "I'll be in your tent.  Don't keep me waiting."

"By the gods," Gale muttered under his breath, only sparing the mess on his alchemy table a cursory glance before spinning on his heel to hurry after the other man, purple robes billowing behind him.   

He couldn't remember the last time he wanted to face the consequences of a failed experiment quite as badly as he did right now.

-

AO3

[saltydoesstuff]

Deadlight turtles with a very naive Reader. Inspired by the IT turned Good comic/au.

Reader was not meant to still be alive. She should have died a long time ago when she encountered Mikey in the sewer drain. But she never took the bait. Never reached her hand in... Instead, she happily talked with Mikey, full heartedly believing his story of a circus that had blown him and his brothers into the sewers and showing true sympathy. Mikey was made fun of when he came back to the lair empty handed by his brothers after Reader had to eventually leave.

The worst of all... the brat left a bag of kettle corn and hot coco by the same drain the next day on her way to work. She was mocking his failure, he knew it. So that night... Leo tried to get her.

He too failed to kill her. She didn't even look scared when she woke up to see his large form carefully standing on the end poles of her bed frame with impressive balance, crouched over and holding two cups of hot chocolate. At first, she was a bit confused- but then had the audacity to look happy to see him. Glad to meet one of Mikey's brothers, she had explained. Leo wanted to rip her apart then and there, but how she looked up at him with such big old happy eyes as she accepted when he offered her a cup of coco.. He hated her. He hated that he couldn't kill her. He hated that she wasn't afraid.

This cycle repeated with Donnie and Raph both in their respective orders. They would meet and try to kill Reader, at least scare her- but any and all attempts failed before they would fully try. Not even a stutter of her heartbeat, or a flinch! Was she truly a human like what the brothers had been preying on for centuries?

This loop of trial and failure continued until it all came to a head when Reader was cornered and threatened by the Mud Dogs (who I imagine are Henry Bowers' gang in this au sorry jdsn) at the creek. Mikey was the one to save Reader before anything could happen, using his shapeshifting powers to turn into a twisted bird like monster and scaring the yokai- nearly eating Leonard in the process, if the pesky mortal didn't shoot him and make Mikey let go before he could take a bite.

When it was over and the gang had fled, Mikey shifted back to normal- a crack in his plastron from the bullet and his blood floating upwards as it exited his body. He watched as Reader got over her shock, looking towards Mikey. He really hoped that now she got it, now he had finally scared her...

But she instead looked at him with adoration. She began to happily ramble about what just happened, laughing at how the Mud Dogs had run away.

"why..."

"Huh?"

"Why aren't you.. afraid?"

"Why would I be afraid? You're my friend!"

". . ."

Mikey wanted nothing more than to rip her throat out, but he knew he would never be able to bring himself to actually do it. So instead, he snapped at her, yelling about how he nor his brothers were her friends.

"Why of course you are! I got you popcorn, Leo got me cocoa- Raph made me a plushie, Donnie made me this cool tech thingy, you all come visit regularly and you just saved me! That's stuff friends do!"

"It would be too easy to- you can't even comprehend what I- Do you know who I am? What I am?! I- You-"

"Have you guys never had a friend before..?"

"I-"

"Look... I'm not dumb, I know the whole story about people going missing every so years. About monsters in the sewers... and if you can turn into that- I guess you are those monsters. But, I think you're good monsters. Why else would you hang out with me so much?"

That caught Mikey off guard.

"'Good... monster..?'"

He started to laugh. At first it was a tiny giggle, then it ramped up to full on hysterical laughter.

"Good monster?!"

Mikey howled, hunching over gripping his stomach. That's when Reader fully took notice to his wound.

"You're bleeding!"

"Good monster!! HAHAHA HAHA HA-"

When she turned to her bag to try and find something to help him, Mikey was gone- his floating blood the only thing left to prove he was there at all...

Down in the lair, Mikey was rolling on the floor- still hysterically laughing. Good monster, she said!

He grew longer claws, using them to pick out the bullet from his chest. Once the object was out, his wound healed almost immediately. He threw the bloody ball away carelessly, rolling onto his stomach. His sharper claws tore into the cement below him with a loud grating noise. Mikey let out a long sigh, calming down from his fit.

'Good monster'... right.

[theshadytree123]

Here’s a little ramble on why I think the best Johannes Cabal books are the ones where Horst is also in them. Spoiler warning for basically the whole series.

Johannes Cabal by nature is a character who works fine by himself but is really only at his best when he has a partner.

Now, that isn’t to say he isn’t a good character on his own. He’s still plenty entertaining even if he’s doing evil deeds by himself. But his evil deeds and tetchy attitude tends to become a little one-note when he’s the only major player. Personally, this is exactly why the Fear Institute was my least favorite in the series. It was still good, but after a while I got used to Johannes’ general vibes and it started becoming less interesting after a bit. Honestly, by the middle of the book I was pretty bored. It wasn’t until near the end when everything started falling into place that my attention was recaptured.

He needs a foil, someone who is genuinely a friendly and nice person so that they can work off of each other. Having a good, moral person as a contrast makes both of their personalities shine.

Now in the series he has multiple different foils, but I will likely always like Horst the best. And it isn’t just because he’s my favorite character.

Leonie Barrow works fine as a contrast. She got the job done in The Detective, and she was pretty good at it. But she’s not the best. She just doesn’t have enough personal drama with Johannes. Sure, she’s has a past with Johannes (*cough* cough* circus *cough* *cough*), but it just never felt personal enough to me. She is someone who Johannes wronged, very badly in fact, but there’s frankly thousands who have been wronged just as badly or even worse than her.

Horst on the other hand is super personal. He’s practically the only family member who still talks to Johannes, and he was literally locked in a crypt by him for eight years, with nothing to do but sit with his own thoughts and be bored. This mix of bitterness because of what Johannes did to him, protectiveness because at the end of the day he’s still his little brother, righteous rage as Johannes continuously does horrible acts without a lick of remorse, and hope that maybe, just maybe, he can redeem himself and get better, is just so overwhelmingly entertaining and creates such a tense but at the same time loving dynamic.

My favorite example of this might be in the Brothers Cabal, which fun fact is my favorite book specifically for this scene. Throughout this book, Horst is very obviously conflicted about his relationship with Johannes. He is constantly in struggle between his righteous fury and… I wouldn’t call it regret per se, but it was certainly sadness over the general situation. He thinks he did the right thing, but at the same time, Johannes is his brother and he just doomed him to an eternity of suffering. Then there’s the added wrench of being told that Johannes has saved the world multiple times since Horst died, and now there’s this tiny flicker of hope that maybe Johannes can be redeemed.

And then, at the end of chapter ten, after Horst gets a bunch of dreams of what Johannes is up to in the Fear Institute, we get honestly what I consider to be the best lines in the entire series, “At 14:35, with the sun up and storming down rays of purifying light that pitter-pattered hopelessly upon the darkness, the vampire Horst Cabal awoke. He awoke in fear and mourning for a death too close, and with tears filling his eyes. He awoke with the name of his brother, Johannes, on his lips.” (Howard 121).

And this line is honestly what truly gave Horst the Best Character Award in my eyes. Because even after Johannes shoved him into a crypt for 8 years, and even after Horst tried to doom Johannes to eternal suffering, and even after all these two have done to hurt each other, at the end of the day, Johannes is still his little brother whom he loves very, very dearly, and if he’s in trouble and needs Horst’s help, Horst is going to try and save him.

[whumpbug]

Oc question: How would all four of your whump ocs go about answering "how are you" or "are you okay" in different phases of okayness?

Or in simpler terms (in case what I just said made no actual sense) How would Archie/Simon/Gene/Cassidy respond if he was asked...

"How are you"/"How are you doing" on a GOOD day?

"How are you"/"How are you doing" on a BAD day?

"How are you"/"How are you doing" on a TERRIBLE day?

And as a bonus (to end off with something positive) how would they each respond to "how are you" on an absolutely showstopping fantastic day?

anon i am SO sorry this took so long to answer but i got so so sobusy and then i got on a drawing kick so i wasn't writing as much BUT this is such a fun question. i LOVEEEE exploring character voices/what they would say to certain questions. i'm gonna answer with dialogue/small actions and add a tiny little explanation!!

i hope you enjoy!! long post incoming!!

✮⋆˙

"how are you doing?" on a GOOD day

simon: "who, me? oh! i'm doing well. and you?"

[simon is just hard to read period. you'll notice a lot of his responses are similar because he is just. naturally very monotone. BUT THERE ARE SUBTLE DIFFERENCES. archie knows. this is him just being calm, which, in comparison to the rest of his life, is a good day]

archie: "i'm doing great! i went to go get some bagels downtown, and they were perfectly toasted, and then i found $10 on the floor! then, my friend, simon, went to the store and got oreos, just for me! then, i--"

[cutting him off because he will just ramble about exactly what made his day good. he's a talker. he can't help it when he's excited.]

gene: "can't complain." [said with an easy expression on his face-- he's not Brooding for once. he seems more relaxed and open]

[gene is a man of few words, equally if not more inexpressive than simon. he is also a little bit awkward. BUT its endearing and he's getting his point across]

cassidy: "doin' peachy! whatta 'bout yourself?" [said with a flashy smile, but its clear that for once, its not for show. its not one of his fake smiles]

[cassidy is cassidy. simple as that. he walks a delicate balance between being a Silly Goober and Deeply Traumatized.]

✮⋆˙

"how are you doing?" on a BAD day

simon: "shitty."

[short, clipped, and to the point. if simon's having a bad day, chances are that its because he has too much on his plate. no time for small talk]

archie: "oh! i've uh.. i've been better. but it's okay! how are you?"

[oh archie. ever the deflector. archie does let himself show that he has "bad days" because the city needs vigil to be Strong. he needs to learn to dodge punches as well as he dodges questions]

gene: "alright."

[he's Not in the mood for small talk. not in the mood to pretend to be fine. he just wants to get whatever he needs to do done so he can go home and brush calliope and sleep.]

cassidy: "well, i'm alright! and you?"

[you didn't think cassidy would admit to having a bad day, did you? especially because the person probably causing his bad day is someone he Will Not bad mouth. ever.]

✮⋆˙

"how are you doing?" on a TERRIBLE day

simon: "i don't want to talk about it, okay?" [said somehow in a tone thats half-rude-half-desperate]

[simon is blunt. he'll say what he means, and if he says this, he really doesn't want to talk about it. to whoever is asking, at least. archie's a different story of course. anyways, best to let him be.]

archie: "me? oh.. i'm.. i'm okay.." [followed immediately by bursting into tears.]

[vigil can only stay strong for so long. even he has limits. he needs a hug and a cup of hot cocoa and a fluffy blanket immediately chop chop simon]

gene: "hm."

[look at that guys. gene has trancended words. his day is SO shitty that he has taken to communication using grunts and nothing else. best to leave the deputy alone, just like simon. maybe be careful around him. it's been rumored he has a short fuse.]

cassidy: "i'm doing fine, alright?" [and then cassidy storms away, of course]

[oh cassidy. he's tired of being fussed over. if people see that he's Not okay, it makes him vulnerable. he can't have that. he'd rather remove himself from the situation that have to keep pretending.]

✮⋆˙

AND BONUS!! "how are you doing?" on a FANTASTIC day

simon: "i'm doing great." [his voice may be monotone, but he has that smile. the one that archie gushes about in this post.]

[again, simon is straight to the point. his face still tells more of a story than his voice and demeanor. when hes happy, he's all gentle smiles. his face practically emits light with how warm it is]

archie: "i'm doing amazing!! what about you? oh! we should go get some ice cream! i know this really good spot! my treat!"

[archie my precious. when hes happy, he LOVES to spread the love and find ways to make his and other people's day even better.]

gene: never been better! [follows by a clap on the shoulder in the way dads do.]

[wow. multiple syllables! its a miracle! i think gene is just affectionate when hes happy. its almost too much to bear. he needs to hug someone. chop chop cassidy!]

cassidy: "fan-fuckin'-tastic!" [said, surprisingly non-sarcastically, with one of those little cowboy whoops, probably while riding scotch]

[he's hyperactive when he's REALLY happy. i'd imagine it would be after he just finished a job taking down some crooked millionare. adrenaline is high and so are the Good Emotions. just makes him wanna whoop!]

✮⋆˙

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE FUN QUESTION! this made me want to repost a character voice ask game again i love Getting Into The Minds of my sillies! hope u enjoy!!

[goldenstorm0]

Finished little goody two shoes a second time, got a few thoughts. Mostly rambling, definitely full of spoilers. I do strongly suggest playing and getting at least a few endings before reading if you want to avoid spoilers and want to understand said rambles.

okay first off Freya is best girl. Like holy fuck best girl. That being said, I romanced Lebkuchen, I relate too much to a girl in a faith crisis for concerning personal reasons. Said reasons will not be explained. But truly her good ending is the best thing for her. Like this is completely biased but I can see the other girls finding their own happiness in their own time, but Lebby needed a good kick in the ass first before she could do that (this observation is based off of projection)

But the writing in this game was great. I love all the girls for all different reasons, and honestly kinda love all the characters even if they are toxic. The way they set up the town to emphasize the separation between the mc and the rest of the cast. The negative comments even when you get a S rank in the mini games. The constant juggling of Rozenmarine and Muffy and Jochen and Obilie to keep suspicion against you down. And those occasional ray of sunshine characters! Freya is too good for the town. And honestly, if I could romance Gustav. I love him. I do have a few problems with it, but I'll get to that in a bit.

And holy shit the art work. There is too much to go over for that. The vibe change the manage between the different days to show the town descent into madness. The stylistic changes in the woods. The fucking music scenes. THE MUSIC. Idk man I think whoever was their art director deserves every praise out there. They have this absolutely adorable 90s anime mixed with early disney/hand-drawn style style, and then this almost clamationish(i think? idk how to describe it) surrealist style in the woods. And it's all handled masterfully. I hope this team comes out with more because they are kinda fantastic at this.

Okay praises done, now with some critiques:

Really wished they did more with the endings. Yes, I know, crazy sounding since they already have 10, but it kinda felt like there should be... more? or different ones? Like with the notes/investigation with father Hans, I thought his ending would end up with him sacrificing the town to St Walpurga. Or something more dramatic. Just killing him and Elise being possessed felt... incomplete. Also think there should be a "fight and defeat the demon" ending. Like some sort of ending where you have to get 1 ending with each of the girls, then you can defeat the demon. Cause end of the day, he is the antagonist and my tiny gamer brain wants to see him banished.

And I think the entire golden girls part feel incomplete. I mostly did the second playthrough to get all of them, and I do love the additional lore, but I fully thought there would be a way to free their souls? Like finding all of them would unlock gma's room, you get a mysterious key item, and you use that at the right moment to defeat the demon.

I get why there wasn't a fight the demon ending, this is supposed to be an all powerful monster and the only way to defeat him is to not play his game, so a fight the demon ending doesn't really fit the narrative they are going for. but... it's a favorite trope of mine. Maybe I missed it? I tried to stick with minimal research when getting the endings, mostly just googled where to get the golden girls.

All in all though, great game. Would recommend, especially for the lesbians and wlw out there 😘 would seduce a young women to sacrifice to the devil again. Is going to go down as my favorite toxic yuri game

Also yes I immediately bought pocket mirror, I'm enjoying it so far. Fucking love surrealism man

[anemonet]

oh my god thats so sweet of you!!!! thank you :DD also super sorry for deleting your ask btw

To get down to business well uh iterators huh, so I can tell you have read some of my ramblings before (very fun) and I will say in general I stand by those ideas - model differences and stuff - with some smaller changes here and there, for instance I made pebbles antennas stupidly long cause I think it looks funny - plus tons of tiny refinements, but generally I dont have too much to add unless theres something specific your wondering about - so I wont focus to much on that. Instead I'm gonna chat a bit about the other stuff you mentioned (NSH and wire headwear) ^-^ so heres the guys! (I'm gonna expand a bit on their design designs)

Ok so you have actully managed to point out something I really hoped no one would notice, which is that I never draw No Significant Harrasment (NSH) - who I hope you meant when you asked about sig, if not then dont look at me - and that is because I despise him with my whole heart. Or well, his design, the character is fine but I cannot draw this guy, I hate his colour scheme and his stupid little cape and why is his head symbols green on green - who allowed this - and in general we are not friends, which is a pity because I have alot of headcanons about him. But as you can see above I have semi settled on a design for him (note the semi, I am not super happy about it) and I do have some toughts and explanations.

So first of, I put NSH as being from the same model generation as suns - so predecessing moon and pebs by a bit - with older designs that have a larger focus on "religious stuff" combined with the anchients overall bonkers fashion sense - more is more - if you wanna read more about that its in this post about suns.

- I would also, this is a side note btw, like to mention I think having them being older models gives room to have some key differences between the oldies (NSH and suns) and the youngsters-ish (moon and pebs) in that one, they have older machinery and also early machinery which means both rougher quality and more wear and tear - which I like to think give them both the idea of slugcats as messangers earlier than most, as they knew their easily damaged functions (broadcast masts for example) would not last forever, which gives them a reason to want to solve it (by breeding scugs I guess) and added onto that I - and this is pure headcanon and speculation - like to imagine a lot of the "taboos" that pebbles and moon have - or well that I speculate they have, the no killing yourself or harming citizens taboo is confirmed canon, but I dont think its farfetched to asume they have other restrictions programmed - something that would most likely be added in later modles, but would be absent in the earlier ones like suns and NSH (not the earliest models but early) which theoreticly would give them a bit more leeway and "creative freedom", which ok why am I talking about this back to why NSH looks like that. -

Back to that, so suns and NSH will share design similarities: lack of face (to represent a lack of ego), lots of robes and layers, which leads us into the slightly more relevant sidenote of iterator clotheing:

So fashion comes and goes in cycles, your mom rebeled against her grandmothers clothing choises and is horrified when that fashion comes back via her daughter who think it looks cool again (20 year old rule or whatever) and that also applies to iterator design (look at that old suns ask for more info on this). So while I have talked about general trends a little, now I wanna talk about waistlines - in robes, because I have wanted an exscuse to talk about it, I be brief promise!

: so like you probably havent noticed all my iterators have different waistlines, or at least the ones from different generations - ignore moon, I'm a no robe for moon beliver, I like to draw joints and wires to much to give her robes - and I will sadly report I have not looked to closely at actual anchient fashion for the choises I made, but well cant have everything. So the most notable is probably pebbles, where I, ok Imostly fell for temptation of a modern highwaist cut, which while moslty being about my own tatse, also is an atempt to convey some form of "modernity" because while its a bright orange robe on a robot, it has a similar cut to highwaisted jeans. Which gives the silhoute from a couple years ago with a big bulky upper body and stick legs. But pebbles isnt intresting in that way, no its because every other design is a resistence against that.

And this again leads into the cycles of fashion. Because we know iterators were built under many cycles - however long those are - so we can asume it will be kinda like how fashion has changed from the 11th centrury to now. Which gives to reason that iterators have been dressed differently too. This added with that - from what I understood - different iterator cities (colonies) had different cultures (boradcast, red, in sky islands) all this then makes me kinda figure that the iterators should have different robes. Yes that was a long winded way to say that characters look different.

So back to waistlines and how their all anti pebbles robes - the most notable difference is of course suns, who has no waistline. They are not only without to create a bigger difference between them and pebbles, but to also lean a bit on - and this might not be the same for every culture - but on the general idea that older clothes were more "modest" or in this case, there are more layers and any hints of there being a body under there is desperatly covered. and that "modern clothes" have less layers and have show more skin - not that pebble is showing skin, but hes wearing one robe instead of seven. So with that the idea that suns is older is conveyed a little bit at least, and the same then applies to NSH. NSH while also having lots of layers, is different from suns by having an empire waistline, mostly because I think their cute and need them to look different, but also to give a hint that they have different city fashion cultures and also because when I see empire waists i think old paintins and old paintings=old.

-also while I'm on the subject of cultural differences between iterator facilities. Can we talk about how we only really get to see anchient society as its presented in moon and pebbles (shared?) facility. So really its very possible the whole aestetic is complelty different like five local groups away. Food for thought. -

So faceless and robe-rich is a similarity between suns and NSH, and I could mention many more, but I'm gonna restrain myself and only talk about headphones. As you can tell I - and most fanartist here - like to draw their antennas differently for all of them! which is also canon, but I also ignored canon so were gonna talk about it. Mostly the antennas give room for some fun mini details, like how moons look like wings or fins while suns are just sunbeams.

Anyhow so most people make NSH bald, me included, mostly because the super cool official art of him gives him no antennas (sad). I asume that means he works via bluetooth.

(I was about to start speculating about their headphones but that got to boring even for me so sorry if your super intrested in why iterators probably have headphones)

But I had a ulterior motive with bringing up the headphones - and not only to be able to point out moons antenna, which I delight in drawing - but also so that I can transition into the second part of this way to long response! itertors hairdos... wire-dos? basicly this \/

(im reusing my wip because these are a pain to draw so we use what we have - I coloured them in a bit for better oversight.)

(also I was gonna start talking about if iterators would actully do personalisations like this - as we can argue about if they concepulize themself as their puppets and see a meaning to decorating them - I would argue yes but also its complicated- and also explain how iterators have different prefernces, which I realised most people probably already asume so I didnt need to explain that - anyhow so that got to long so I'm not gonna get into it. Instead were gonna go into this section with the assumptions that they do fun things with their wires. and also that the wires connect to their nape and backhead instead of their back or spine.)

So to me th biggest thing to remember when we talk about potetial wire headwear is that:

- iterators live 24/7 without gravity and because of that cannot be bothered by to heavy headwear, therefore theres rooms for them and anchients (and me) to get funky with it without having to concider gravity.

-anchients wore absurdly many decorations - and while giving iterators flashy decorations does take away from my earlier statement that they were based on more humble monk stuff, we are going to asume they used the fancy headwear for cermonies and festivals (which we also know anchients did) and that it was used for showcasing and fun. If some iterators preffered to keep them afterwards is another query.

So with that in mind lets break these headwear thingies down!! :D

so as you can (hopefully) tell there three components in the headwear. The headphones that are different depending on iterator and are not removable (or as unremovable a computer part can be). Then theres the actual headpieces that keeps the wires togheter. These can be switched out and changed depending on whats preffered - also I drew them in gold but any material works, if were being closer to canon they would probably be made of some purposed organism and maybe be neon pink - theres also pearls dangling from them because its a perfect opertunity. Third theres probably the part I think is the most fun which is the actual wires. They obviously go through the headpieces and then are set free via wiretassles (that also comes in different forms) and after that is where my own speculations about wires comes in. Which is really simple in that iterators can most probably move the wires at will - they can control their arm thing, pearls and other objects in their chambers, reasonably they can move the wires - and I think its fun if different iterators move them differently. Like suns keeps them straight and neat, or pebbles moves them in syncronized formations or moon who just lets them hang, so many oppertunities ok ( you can see the general idea in the drawing). The wires then connect to their movement arms and connect to the mainframe.

And thats kinda about it? I dont have like anything super intresting to say about just the hairdos other than that I think its very fun and also that everyone is sleeping on wire customizations I am obbsessed with the idea send help.

Ok I think I'm done chatting!! Hope your still here and that this wasnt insufferable to read. Uh, thanks for the ask :D

(NSH for your enjoyment)

[brennacedria]

I freaking hate the space heaters at work. It's 31f out right now and I'm wearing a T-shirt bc if I wear anything heavier I'll overheat and get sick. I have a hoodie to wear over it, but that's it.

...I almost hope it does snow this week. Savannah's entirely unprepared in spite of trying to be. But snow means I can't get to work, and I don't have to worry about not dressing for the weather OR worrying about black ice. And I'm really, REALLY scared of the ice. Being TOLD to stay home would make me a lot less scared.

This is what was convenient about the last time it snowed. I was still at the apartments, so not only was I not required to GO to work, I was salary so the tiny bit of work I did from home counted as a full day and I didn't have to use my PTO to get paid for the days we were otherwise down. Literally, all I did was leave my email open, answer questions from residents, and text maintenance if there was anything they COULD do, which they couldn't, but I at least was able to notify them and they made that decision.

Idk... I'm rambling. If ice wasn't an issue, I'd only have to worry about my clothes this week. But I DO have to worry about more than my clothes, and I'm really scared.

[weirdbeancurd]

Down Time- ASTV Tickle fic

Lee!Miguel, Ler!OC

Michelle is just my OC which is basically a female, more upbeat version of Miguel from another dimension, they have a sibling relationship and love bothering each other lol

Summary: Miguel gets frustrated with a project of his and Michelle cheers him up.

Miguel groaned. He was working on a program to automate part of the anomaly capturing process with little success. It wasn’t as optimized as he was hoping and it was driving him insane. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Miguel was about to give it another shot but yelped when he felt a poke to his side. He swiveled around to meet a smug face.

“What do you want, Michelle,” He deadpanned.

“Mmmm… Not much. Just to annoy you.”

Of course. She was always a pain in the ass. 

“Really, though. You doing okay? You seem kinda frustrated.”

Miguell just grunted.

“Charming, but not an answer. Are you sure you don’t want to take a break at least?”

“I’m sure. I have important things to do, unlike you.”

“Hey, you know that’s not true. I babysat Mayday just a couple days ago. And created a blueprint for that new model of the goober, but that’s neither here nor there.”

He sighed in response and slumped in his chair. The orange glow of his monitors bored into his eyes, a truly monotonous sight. Maybe she was right. A break might do him some good. Michelle just gave a knowing smile.

“Why don’t you join me on the couch here, give yourself some time to settle down.”

“...Fine. But only for a bit, then I get back to work.” If he was being honest, Miguel didn’t really mind, but he had a reputation to uphold, dammit. Cuddling doesn’t exactly fit his tough guy persona. Regardless, he huffed and met her at the couch, lying at her side. Michelle pulled him over so that his head rested in her lap. His eyes shifted uncomfortably. 

“Just take it easy. You deserve some time off,” she mumbled calmly. She ran her fingers through his hair, once, twice, three times, and began gently scratching at his scalp. Miguel all but melted. The nails gliding across his head felt heavenly. His eyes slowly slid closed as his thoughts drifted away. He paid no mind to the rumble in his chest, but Michelle clearly did, if her chuckle told him anything.

“That’s adorable, you know. Glad you’re enjoying this.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re purring.”

Oh. Miguel felt his face heat up. Purring wasn’t an uncommon thing for Michelle to do, but Miguel was a whole other story. It was an unfortunate ability they both inherited after injecting himself with spider DNA and seemingly served no other purpose than to embarrass him. He tried suppressing the purring, but the scratching at his scalp drew out more of the unwanted noises. Miguel hid his burning face in the side of the couch, half asleep. Michelle huffed in amusement.

“If you ever want me to do this again, just ask. I got you.”

The words soaked into him like warm honey, sweet and comforting. He appreciated the reassurance. Yet, he couldn’t resist being a little shit to his surrogate sibling.

“Mm. If I wanted to fall asleep, I’d just listen to your ramblings.”

Michelle gasped in faux outrage.

“How dare you! I do all this for you, and this is how you repay me?”

“Maybe you’re just not a soothing person to be around. I can feel my blood pressure rising just being near you.”

“Oho, you’re gonna regret that.”

Michelle dug her thumbs into Miguel’s hips, causing him to screech awake and startle. He didn’t even get the chance to contain his laughter, bright belly laughs pouring out of his mouth. His hands grasped her wrists, but notably didn’t pull them away. Michelle smirked with smug satisfaction.

“Gahahaha! Gehehet off of me, pendehehejo!” 

“No can do, boss. I have orders from the higher ups to wreck the shit outta you.”

“Noho you do nOT- ShiHIT NOHOHO!”

Michelle began to massage his stomach with the tips of her claws, dragging out shrieks from Miguel. It felt like thousands of tiny shocks assaulting his belly, driving him mad. He flailed uselessly, almost falling off the couch at some points. She smiled at his reactions. Michelle knew he could end this whenever he wanted, but was enjoying himself, much as he'd like to deny.

"I know you can free yourself no problem, but you're having fun, aren't you?" She teased.  

"SHUHUT UHUHUP!" 

Michelle noticed the red flush on Miguel's face and took it as a sign to slow down. She switched to gently skittering across his sides, causing him to squirm and giggle.

“Soo..” She began.

“Sohoho whahat?”

“So are you going to admit you’re a dick?”

“...No.”

“It’s your funeral.”

And with that final warning, she raked her nails across his thighs. Miguel screamed, kicking out his legs in an attempt to ward off the sensations. He was disappointed to say it didn't help in the slightest.

“You brought this upon yourself, idiot,” She chastised, but there was no heat behind it.

“FUHUHUCK YOHOHOU!” 

He could feel his sanity quickly leaving, so Miguel reluctantly gave in.

“OKAYOKAYOKAHAHAY! IHIHI’M A DIHICK! NOW STAHAHAP!”

Her fingers immediately stilled, giving him a couple more head scratches while he calmed down, smiling when she felt him melt into the couch.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, now wAAH-” Michelle squeaked when their positions were suddenly flipped, Miguel hovering over her ominously.

“Yohou…”

“Uh…me?” She chuckled nervously.

“You…are dead.”

Screams and laughter could be heard from Miguel’s office.