#edit: it’s kind of like that feeling when you don’t know what to draw except really bad and about everything

[inquisimer]

For arlow and viago 😭 ❛ i don’t want to understand, i want you to stay. ❜

THANK YOUUUUUUU I am ALL up in my feels about them ;-; this is set well pre-canon, right after Arlow is released from (my version of) "how not to get possessed" Crow Edition

Arlow de Riva & Viago | 972 words | cw: implied/referenced torture, child abuse | @dadrunkwriting - veilguard

-

She is ragged, rubbed raw when they dump her on the stoop of Viago's estate. They rap on the door, once, twice, three times, because she could not lift an arm to do it herself. And then they leave her there, shivering and utterly drained, still bleeding where the manacles had held her. Still aching where the Fade had dug its claws into her.

But she is alive. That is more than most of the others can say.

Viago opens the door himself--of course he does, because he does not employ a staff, would not give anyone such access, no matter how thoroughly vetted. She wonders, as a soft string of curses fall from his lips, how they even knew to leave her here. Its location is a closely guarded secret.

(She will never know about the gold and threats exchanged, when first she was taken. As soon as she has passed, he insisted. Not a moment longer.)

His arms are gentle, slotting carefully under her legs and at her shoulders; he is trying to avoid the bruises, the welts, the weeping wounds. If she could find her voice, she would tell him not to bother--there is nowhere that does not ache, in some shape or form. But he is trying, and she focuses on that, rather than how the world spins as he lifts her, carries her down the hallway to a familiar room. It is not hers, but she spends a great deal of time here, being poked and prodded--poisoned--pressed for answers and learning how to describe what he needs to know.

The cot she usually sits on is made up with softer blankets and pillows than is typical. As if it were waiting for her, and knew that she would not be in a state for the harsh, cold crinkle of paper. But that is foolish--there is no one in the estate except Viago, and Viago is not the type to prepare such creature comforts. If her mind were not so muddled--

She blinks, and Viago presses a vial to her lips. He does not need to tell her to drink; she lets him tip it down her throat without hesitation. Bitter elfroot, and acidity. At her side, over her knuckles, and where it is seeping down her temple, blood clots as her skin knits itself back together. Though the gash over her shoulder blade only gets about two-thirds of the way there, and she knows that it will be a scar.

Experimentally, she reaches for it with her magic. It is new, this power within her, and awkward like a third arm, or second tongue. It is also weak, drained by the price the Crows have exacted. But she has paid it--she is alive. She has been judged, and not found wanting.

For once. Perhaps for the last time.

"Stop that," Viago snaps, as if he can sense that she is pushing past limits that have long since been flattened. "You will make it worse."

The tendril of mana blinks out into nothing. He cuts her ruined tunic away, pursing his lips together as each snip reveals bruises, burns, and more ribs than he'd been able to see three weeks ago. But he is not surprised. Necessary, as so many painful things are. When the pain fades, confidence will take root--in confidence, safety.

With short, clinical strokes, he cleans her skin and a tiny sigh parts Arlow's lips. She has nearly forgotten what it is like to be touched with an intention that is kind.

He takes his time. Tends each of the wounds with the appropriate salve, or balm, or serum. His gloved hands are more gentle than they have ever been when he urges her to lean forward, but he offers no apology when he draws the needle through her flesh, sealing another mark into her skin.

When he is finished, he wraps her in fresh clothes and brings her to rest before the fire. Hands her another potion, diluted this time, and gives strict instructions to sip, slowly.

Despite the fire, despite the ghost of his care lingering over her skin, Arlow feels a chill. This is the part where he leaves. She knows--understands, even. So much more than a child should have to. Of all the ways Viago covers his skin, he has never treated her with kid gloves.

She does not want him to leave. But it is not her place to ask him to stay.

Her eyes drift closed; for a moment, her heart stutters, afraid of the darkness that waits behind her lids. But the fire makes it warm and orange; the cold and dank to which she has been relegated remains firmly--if a bit too near--in her memory.

In that halfway place between waking and sleep, she imagines tender hands tucking a blanket around her. Shifting her on the pillow so that her neck will not be so terribly cricked in the morning. It is nice of her mind, to cushion her recovery with such niceties.

Gloved knuckles brush a stray hair back behind her ear. A softness that she will not remember in the morning, nearly gone to the Fade already as she is. Which is why he offers it, of course.

"Well done, parajito," Viago murmurs. She will not remember that, either, or the smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth. When he is stern and exacting in the morning, she will not remember that he was proud of her, or relieved to have her back under his purview.

But that does not change the fact--he is.

He tucks the blanket more snugly under her chin, smooths the wrinkles over her legs. For the first time in three weeks, she is resting easy--and he leaves, for the first time in three weeks, to do the same.

[hp-hcs]

call me black friday, 'cause i just got a helluva BOGO deal (pt 2 of this fic with the long-ass title) — overprotective! simp! riddle brothers x gender neutral! muggleborn! reader

well, gang, i finally did it. ten months later, and i've finally blessed you plebians with a part 2. after the immediate success of pt 1, i had no clue where to take this story, since i'd originally written it to be a standalone, so i just. didn't. whoops.

1.9k words

⚠️will not make sense unless you've read part 1!!!⚠️

warnings: it gets a little awkwardly raunchy? idk reader is just the most self-conscious thing on the planet, drinking, reader consumes alcohol, mild descriptions of wounds, discussed past violence/murder, kissing/making out while under the influence of alcohol, lotta background ships, is it ooc if they're not even canon characters? tom's voldemort's son in this one so he's just an amalgamation of ideas & also not canon

not edited

for the love of god please comment. fic authors thrive off comments and comments alone.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“The rules are simple,” Pansy said, clapping her hands together. “When it’s your turn, you spin the bottle in a circle. You have to kiss whoever the mouth of the bottle points to. It’s enchanted to land on the person you’re most romantically compatible with, and the bottle will become stuck in place until you kiss them.”

“I feel like that kind of defeats the point of Spin the Bottle,” you muttered to Hermione, who stifled a giggle. “Half the fun is seeing people who aren’t compatible kiss.”

But even Gryffindor’s token good girl elbowed you and dragged you over to the forming circle on the floor. Pansy, having crowned herself as the moderator of the game (mostly because no one else cared), went first. 

The party was being thrown in the Slytherin common room, in the Riddles’ honor. Although no one would ever dare snitch, everyone knew that what had happened to those two Gryffindor guys the week prior was directly linked to the Dark Lord’s sons. Even Harry, who didn’t condone murder (except for when he did it *ahem* Quirrell *ahem*), was willing to look the other way for the sake of those two known bullies’ untimely deaths. 

You’d finally been released from the infirmary wing, although your trunk was still completely wrapped in bandages and it hurt to move. You sat on one of the common room throw pillows instead of the bare floor, your aching body already protesting.

You forgot all about your aches and pains as the game started, though. Begrudgingly, you had to admit that the magical version was a lot more interesting. Or at least, there were fewer arguments and fights. 

(Cue lots of “aww”s when Pansy’s initial spin had the bottle landing on Neville Longbottom.)

Money exchanged hands from years-long bets when Harry Potter’s turn ended with him kissing Theodore Nott, and even more money was exchanged when Draco’s spin landed on Hermione.

Despite having made fun of the game earlier, your palms were sweaty as you leaned forward to spin the bottle. The glass Ogden’s bottle pirouetted for a moment before slowing, finally settling in place.

The common room went dead silent.

“Who’s it on? Who’s it on?” asked Seamus impatiently, ducking under his boyfriend’s arm to get a better view. 

“I… don’t know,” said Pansy, drawing her wand to cast a simple straight line charm. The magic glowing blue line sprouts from the neck of the bottle, casting outward and hitting the wall instead of a body.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Harry scratched his head. “That looks exactly halfway to me.”

Mattheo and Tom were both staring at the blue line that had landed right between the two of them.

“Welp, them’s the rules.” Theo shrugged tipsily, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist and holding the Gryffindor in his lap. “Pucker up, L/n.”

Knocking your cup back for a boost of liquid courage, you gingerly clambered over stray legs and half-crushed red solo cups, trying not to injure yourself further as you made your way to the Riddles. Blaise Zabini offered you a hand to keep you steady as you crossed the circle.

Mattheo’s eyes were as round as saucers as you approached, his hands fluttering uncertainly over your waist as you settled on the floor in front of both boys. Tom had no such qualms, immediately reaching out to rest a ring-laden hand on your thigh. 

“Who wears a blazer to a party?” was the first thing out of your mouth as you took hold of Tom’s lapel. The usually stern man’s lips quirked up at the corners into a slightly dopey smile. You doubted that anyone else present even noticed it except for you and his brother, but you knew immediately that he was tipsy.

“Me, darling,” Tom murmured softly, his hand wandering further up your thigh. He gently rubbed his thumb against your inner thigh in a reassuring gesture. “Is this okay?”

You returned his gesture by resting a hand on his cheek and brushing your thumb against the corner of his mouth.

“Yes,” you whispered breathlessly. You didn’t hesitate after that, leaning forward and connecting your lips. You could faintly hear some of your friends letting out obligatory ooooohs, but you ignored them.

His kiss was uncertain: slow but deliberate. At some point his other hand had come up to cup your cheek, and you could feel the cold metal of his rings pressing into your skin.

When you finally pulled away for air, Tom’s mouth tried to chase yours. 

You turned to his brother, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him in for his turn.

Mattheo’s lips were slightly chapped. Distantly, you wondered if the wizarding world had Chapstick. Your fingers tangled in the soft curls at the base of his neck, your noses bumping into each other clumsily. You both giggled, and you felt his lips turn up into a grin against your own.

There was cheering from the other partygoers, who were happy to move on to the next victim of the bottle. But even as the game resumed, you found yourself sandwiched between the two brothers. You found you had no desire to return to your original spot across the circle. You and your boys were quickly forgotten as the group became focused on Blaise and Luna kissing, leaving you three in your own private bubble.

~~~

The revelry of the night continued without any further hiccups. While Tom had sobered up a bit—after all, he was still Head Boy, and therefore technically required to be responsible—Mattheo had continued to drink. A lot.

And he was sloshed.

At some point, he’d started kissing you again on the Slytherin common room couch. He was mostly just slobbering all over your lips, clumsily smooshing your faces together the way a child does with Barbies.

“That’s enough of that,” Tom grunted in displeasure, seemingly appearing out of nowhere to wrangle in his brother’s behavior. “C’mon, Romeo, up you get. Time for bed, before you do something you’ll regret.” He manhandled his younger brother up off of you and hoisted Mattheo over his shoulder. The younger Riddle just laughed, trying to pat his brother’s head in thanks, but ended up missing his target and accidentally smacking Tom in the ear. 

You reluctantly got up from the common room couch, trailing behind them as Tom carried his brother upstairs to their shared dorm.

Shutting the door behind you, you watched as he dumped Mattheo onto his bed, sighing as he got to work untying his brother’s beat up Converse. “Drunk idiot,” Tom muttered.

You laughed, coming over to help Tom undress Mattheo. Drunk Mattheo did not want to be of any help, so trying to wrestle his jacket off was like trying to undress a dead fish. When you reached for the buckle of his belt, he leered up at you. 

“Trying to get in my pants, pretty thing? S’alright, you don’t gotta be sneaky about it. Just ask, an’ I’ll give you the world.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Riddle,” you drawled. “You’d be expected to beg for that.”

“I love to beg.”

“For fucks sake, Matt, shut up!” Tom hissed, lightly smacking his shoulder. “You can flirt when you’re sober. Now is not the time.”

Dragging his jeans down his narrow hips, you steadfastly averted your gaze to literally anything other than your best-friend-slash-crush’s half-naked body. Since when did Hogwarts’ stone walls become so interesting?

“Tommy?” you heard Mattheo say in a soft and small voice you’d never heard before as you busied yourself with folding his jeans into a perfect square, just to have something to do other than stare at Mattheo’s body. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

Tom sighed affectionately once he was done redressing his brother in a clean shirt and a pair of pajama pants, making your lips quirk up in a small smile at the sight of the little cartoony quidditch players zipping across the charmed fabric. Tom leaned down to comb sweaty curls out of Mattheo’s face and press a kiss to his brother’s forehead. “Always, Matty.”

“Can Y/n join us?” he asked in that same soft voice.

Tom hesitated, turning to glance at your stiff and awkward figure. “Y/n? Would you mind joining us tonight?”

“Join you?” you spluttered, dropping the folded jeans square on the floor in surprise. Your voice sounded a bit strangled as explicit images filled your mind. No, no! Not the time, Y/n! Get it together!

“To cuddle?” he clarified, raising an eyebrow at your sudden clumsiness.

“Oh! Uh. Yeah. Of course.” You hurriedly turn away to take off your shoes, cheeks bright red in embarrassment.

When had you started thinking about your friends like that? you wondered.

With a wave of his wand, the older Riddle had managed to transfigure Mattheo’s bed into one a full size larger. “You want some different clothes to sleep in? I can find you some stuff.”

“Sure, that’d be great,” you mumbled. Tom nodded, opening one of Mattheo’s dresser drawers—which was a mess; half-open drawers puking socks and t-shirts onto the floor. Seemingly knowing how to make sense of the disaster, he immediately located what he was looking for and tugged it out.

“Here– you can wear these as shorts. They’re clean, I promise.” He tossed you a wadded up ball of fabric as he wandered over to his own armoire—everything inside was neatly pressed and hung according to color—to find you a shirt.

Instead of questioning why he wouldn’t just give you one of Mattheo’s shirts when he’d literally just been at the younger boy’s dresser—instead purposefully giving you a piece of clothing from each of them—you just unfold the ball of fabric in your hands. 

Oh, Lord.

Boxers. 

He’d given you a pair of Mattheo’s boxers to wear. The really loose kind, plaid in pattern. They reminded you of those muggle Fruit of the Loom kind you always saw in the non-magical stores back home. You gulped when Tom returned with one of his worn-soft casual button-ups. 

“Will you help me with my T-shirt?” you murmured quietly, not wanting to disturb Mattheo, whose eyes were clearly growing heavy as his breathing began to even out.

Tom nodded, waiting for your nod of permission before reaching out for your shirt. He carefully maneuvered the soft fabric up over your bandaged torso, chucking it onto the nearby desk chair once it was off. His fingers hovered over your bandaged ribs, where a line of red-brown had seeped through. Tom’s expression hardened and his jaw set. 

“We should’ve made them suffer longer,” he hissed, eyes tracing the tail of one of your wounds that peeked out of the top of your bandages and sliced across your collarbone.

He then dressed you, buttoning up his large shirt on your smaller frame. He politely averted his gaze, changing into his own pajamas, as you slipped off your bottoms and traded them out for the boxers. 

Tom helped you into bed, so as to not jostle your injured torso too much. You laid on one side of Mattheo while Tom laid on the other. Even with his excellent transfiguration of the mattress, Mattheo’s body still took up most of it, starfished out across the entire bed. 

Once you’d settled into bed, you whispered, “G’night, Tom,” so softly, you’d assumed he hadn’t heard it.

After a long moment of silence, you heard a quiet, “Goodnight, Y/n,” before Tom snuffed out the lamp on the bedside table.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

hey so fun fact i actually hate this

people who wanted a pt 2 like a year ago or requested it from my recent poll lol:

@babyyd0llll @leona-hawthorne @siriuslyobsessedwithfiction @justyourlocalfriendlydinosaur @yufufuyu-mindy-dreamon @pleasantlycrazyworld @amell333 @evanescentlover @like3gremlinsinatrenchcoat @slytherinboysappreciation

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

I GOT SO EXCITED WHEN YOU OPENED YOUR REQUESTS!!! can i request a pietro fic where him and the reader are both avengers and they are best friends, but the reader has the biggest crush on him (she manages how to hide well) and they get assigned to a mission in hawaii and have to pretend that they're married and are there for their honeymoon? and that pretending to be the reader's husband and doing everything together like a couple made pietro realize that he also had feelings for her. one day they both go to a restaurant and have some drinks and he builds enough courage to finally kiss her (in the rain😼)

(i know it's cheesy but i just love the idea😭😭 and also, sorry if there's any mistakes, english isn't my first language hahah)

hii!! omg I love this and cheesy things hehe!! and don’t worry, your english was great! apologies, I had a nightmare writing this, I finished writing it then went to edit the next day to find chunks of my paragraphs were missing :(( but thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

—

fake dating

pietro maximoff x fem!reader

word count: 811

✧.┊ MASTERLIST

As you and Pietro are the two youngest members on the team -with the exception of Peter- you were often paired together for lots of missions. Being best friends had its perks, especially for trips away where it was just the two of you. 

You were both assigned to Hawaii to "collect intel", as Cap lightly put it. The pair of you undercover: smitten newlyweds on your honeymoon. Usually, you weren't a fan of these kinds of aliases, but this was different- it was with Pietro.

It allowed you to tap into your true and hidden romantic feelings towards him without over-complicating everything. Fake dating was like a compromise to you. It felt like it gave you a brief chance to date him without the consequence of doing the real thing.

The moment you boarded the plane, the mission began, and you were all over Pietro- leaning into him and stroking his arm, giggling at his jokes and sharing stories with the elderly lady beside you. 

It all felt natural, and you didn't know where to draw the line. You admit you may have gotten a little carried away, but you couldn't help it- it just felt so right to date Pietro, like you could finally be your true self without keeping a part of you locked away. 

The first several days of the trip went smoothly, completing all tasks assigned within the first few hours of the day, leaving you both together for many hours doing touristy things.

Each day was slightly different- snorkelling in the ocean for one and eating lunch with the locals for another. You both wanted to make the most of your 'vacation,' so you chose activities you couldn't do anywhere else, nor would you have time for otherwise.

As the days progressed, so did things with you and Pietro. You would find yourselves flirting and touching with no one around- no one to prove things to. He grew more comfortable being romantic with you, a lingering touch to your hand or a soft smile when you speak- just small and possibly inconsequential moments that felt too sincere to be fake.

Today was the last night of the trip before heading home in the morning, so you and Pietro decided to have dinner at your favourite quaint restaurant on the beach, much like a final farewell to the town you both grew to adore. 

Everything was perfect- the scenery, the food, the company, even. It was the best end to an already great trip. 

By now, you were on your final course of the night, sharing a desert as you chatted in your usual friendly way. 

You sit up straight, pointing the spoon at him. "You suit it,"

His head cocks to the side, evidently confused. "Suit, what?"

"Y'know... the sun— being away. You seem happy," you smile, placing your spoon aside. "Haven't seen you like it for a while." You shrug, glancing out into the ocean to avoid his fixed gaze.

"I do?" he grins, pointing the spoon at you like you did him. "Same with you... it's nice to see."

"Maybe it's the company," your smile widens, turning back to face him.

He chuckles, itching his foot closer to yours under the table, slyly bumping into it. "Maybe."

After dinner and more drinks, you find your tipsy selves on the beach, sitting in the sand, huddled together under a blanket to keep warm. Pietro's arm draped over your shoulder, holding you close to him as you look out into the ocean. It all felt so familiar, like second nature- as if this was how it should be between you. 

Sure, you've cuddled like this many times before, but this was not like those times- this was different. It was intimate- sincere. Pietro pulls away, glancing over your face as a gentle smile forms, watching the way yours mirrors his. 

"Looks like it's gonna rain," you divert, suddenly aware of how real this all feels between you. 

He hums weakly, his smile faltering as he slowly leans towards you, his low gaze focused on your lips. 

"Might storm," you whisper, adding.

"Mh-hm," he softly replies, almost as if he wasn't paying attention. He slips his hand up to cup the side of your face, his palm resting on your jaw, guiding you closer. 

"It might—"

He cuts you off with a small shush, quietening your blabbering mind before brushing his lips over yours, kissing you soft and sweetly. It felt like months of repressed longing poured into a single, beautiful moment. A moment you've long been yearning for.

As you pull away from one another, you wish you could stay here forever. Stay in paradise. 

But as much as you hated to think about it, you'd be leaving tomorrow, and all you could think about was how things would be when you go back home. 

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

pietro taglist: @astermath @thewinterv @earth-elemental18 @lunnnix @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @randomawesomeperson102 @queerponcho @selfryed @daenerys-supremacy @dontknownameauthor @mrsbarnesxxx @honestly-who-even-is-this @simplyreflected

[michellemisfit]

✨Weekly Tag Wednesday ✨

Thanks for creating the game and for the tag @jrooc thanks for the tag @vintagelacerosette

Today we’re talking fandom. Come play!

Name and A03 handle: Michelle, michellemisfit

Current Location: Living room, surrounded by feathers, as I’m currently fletching some arrows

Favourite picrew: This one is pretty fucking spot on. Or at least it was at the time. Hair is very different now. But then, hair is always different… lol

Also this one is spiritually VERY me

What's one thing you want in a picrew? Ability to add coloured streaks! And a wide selection of scars, or alternatively the ability to move them around the screen. Either is fine. But mostly the hair thing. My hair is generally 4 different colours. Don’t try and limit me to one!!

Favourite thing you’ve created (or seen created) for the fandom? Erm… 3 way tie between Mexico Gallacrafts, Fimo Gallavich, and Cookie Gallavich? Maybe? Argh. Turns out, looking back at my art tag… I’ve created some pretty cool stuff. Huh. Yay me.

Why is it your favourite? I don’t really do photography, and I’m really proud of the idea behind and the execution of that photo. And while I LOVE drawing more than anything, I don’t think I’m exceptional or anything. But I’m damn creative when it comes to silly 3D craft projects, so both Fimo Gallavich and Cookie Gallavich make me happy and feel like something not just anyone could do… I dunno.

Did it come easily or was it hard to create? It was LONG to create. Both cookie and Fimo Gallavich took several days in total. And I think that’s the other thing I like about myself. I am willing to put in the work, and it usually pays off.

Last ao3 fic you commented on? Hah! You’ll be able to corroborate this, I’m not just sucking up!! LOL I’m currently reading Camp is a Battlefield by @blue-disco-lights, @jrooc, and @mybrainismelted, with artwork by @creepkinginc, so that’s the last one I commented on :)

Biggest WIP heartache you’ve ever experienced? I mean… every single WIP I have ever started reading, only to realise that maybe there won’t be any more of it… 😱 Every. Single. One. They’re all special, and they all hurt in their own special ways. And I will remain subscribed to all of them FOREVER, because you never know!!

Also? Comment on WIPs. Tell authors how much joy the story brought you, how much space it’s occupying in your brain, how much you would love to see it continue but how happy you are to have read as much of the story as there is because it’s changed your brain chemistry… do NOT comment saying ‘next chapter when?’, cause that makes you a dick bag.

Favourite trope or head cannon you like included in a fanfic? I’m a sucker for fake dating, only one bed, and a soulmate AU 🤷🏽‍♂️

Least favourite? …not a huge fan of kid fic, but hey, all it takes is a great author to make it work.

Secret or surprising kink or trope? Again, do not kink shame, because you’re only ever one good fanfic away from discovering something about yourself you did NOT see coming…

Describe how you feel after you’ve created something new? Exhausted and antsy. Is it good enough? Are people gonna like it? Should I even bother anyone with this? Why don’t I just go and hide under a rock forever?? I felt okay about this when I finished it, why is it suddenly the worst thing to have ever been created??? …I wish there was a sense of calm and accomplishment. There is not. Brains suck!

Top hype man you have that always helps you get across the finish line: @deedala - I so appreciate how we’re on a similar wave length when it comes to art as well as ‘everybody wants to hunt me for sport’ vibes. I know I can always count on you for kind but honest words, and that’s so important!!

It's been a bad day, you turn to the fandom and you _____? Read comfort fic. Probably Like Real People Do or None the Wiser.

Edit: Also? Go and read comments and tags on old art posts. That’s a sure fire way to cheer me up!

This was fun, and made the 15 minute wait between fletching each feather pass much faster. Thanks!!

If you are currently making your own arrows and need something to occupy your wait time with… how about completing a tag game? lol

@heymrspatel @loftec @creepkinginc @deedala @too-schoolforcool @darlingian @iandarling @iansw0rld @ian-galagher @mybrainismelted @palepinkgoat @crossmydna @mikhailoisbaby @sickness-health-all-that-shit @rereadanon @rutherinahobbit @energievie @junemermaid @francesrose3 @deathclassic @faejilly @rutherinahobbit @gallawitchxx @look-i-love-u @jessij1997 @callivich @celestialmickey @wehangout @doshiart @lynne-monstr @the-rat-wins @blue-disco-lights @suzy-queued @sleepyfacetoughguy @spookygingerr @burninface @gallapiech

[literallyzooble]

The Amazing Digital Marching Band: Beta Designs

WHAT THE HEEEEELLLLLLL OH MY GAWD NO WAYAYAYAYAYAY

Hi hello hi!! I finally got around to designing some beta layouts for my Digital Circus AU! Please tell me what you think and reblog if you can! If I continue to expand upon this AU, I might just make its own blog for it! Just depends when and if I have time :)

Okay under the cut is me infodumping about each design so feel free to like skip allat if you don’t want to read it

Gangle: Color Guard -I wanted to still follow Gangle’s ribbon motif in her design, this is probably the most personalized outfit out of all of them. -The ribbon the makes up her body now continues down and spirals around her legs, sort of to make a “skeleton” of a dress. -I added a bit more flare to her arms, adding extra ribbons that don’t act as limbs, and more as sleeves or decoration. -The bow on her head kind of just ties it all together, again fitting with the ribbon motif that I was going for. -In terms of the first point, the reason why I say “personalized” is that I’m still not sure what I’m going for in terms of outfits. I don’t know if I want them all to be uniform and the same, like a true marching band (in this case, I would have to change Gangle’s outfit), or if I’d like each uniform to have more of a personal style to it (in this case I would keep Gangle’s outfit, and change uniforms to echo the original character’s designs (i.e. changing Ragatha’s uniform to be a bit more dress like).

Pomni: Drum Major -I’m still deciding on the hat, I wanted to try to make a shako with a jester hat motif, but I’ll have to work it out over time. -Her uniform borrows from modern marching uniforms (Stanbury for inspiration) and circus jester clothes (hence the fringe around the waist). -Gloves are the same size as her original gloves, except they’re white. -Pants are classic bibber pants, shoes are classic marching shoes (both black).

Zooble: Snare (Battery) -One of their antennae is a snare stick. I came up with this gimmick that Zooble basically pulls out sticks from everywhere: their head, their arm, their leg, they always have a spare. -I decided to give Zooble two wings for stability, since you don’t want to be tilted to one side while marching, especially for battery. -Their right (looking at the drawing it’s their left) arm has this mechanism where you can easily insert sticks, it’s sort of like one of those things that can extend your pencil when it’s short? It uses the same logic. -I kinda went the craziest on Zooble’s design because I am so normal about them (I am not) -I CHOSE ZOOBLE AS A SNARE BEFORE GOOSE SAID THAT THEY PLAY DRUMS MY BRAIN IS MASSIVE

Ragatha: Flute -Adding on from what I yapped about in Gangle’s tidbit, I had this idea to make the uniforms a bit more personalized to each character, for example giving Ragatha’s uniform a bit more of a “dress” look to math her original design. Of course, this conflicted with my knowledge of marching bands and why everyone has such similar uniforms, so to go with the dress-like design or not, as well as personalizing each of the character’s designs more, is still up in the air. -Woodwinds have gloves that have the fingertips cut off, so their fingers can be more technical. Ragatha’s gloves are black. -The woodwind and brass uniforms are mostly the same, the shakos (color wise) are the only things that differentiate the two. -Classic marching bibber and shoes. -Yes I am self projecting by making Ragatha a flute and BEFORE YOU GO SAYING “erm achchually Ragatha plays Cello-“ FIRSTLY there are no cellos in marching band and SECONDLY within this AU she plays flute for marching season and play cello in the orchestra for concert season :)

Jax: Trumpet -His ears go inside his shako, I’m just too lazy to edit/erase them. -Brass have gloves that have no alterations made to them. Jax’s gloves are also black. -Classic marching bibber and shoes. -Jax gives me “typical crackhead trumpet” energy and I don’t know why. Anyways there’s my reason for putting him on trumpet.

Kinger: Bass Drum And Gong (Pit/Auxiliary) -I want Kinger in this AU to give “How TF Did I Get Dragged Into This” Vibes -Pit percussion members don’t wear shakos, which is sort of cool so we can still recognize the chess piece form. -Since Kinger doesn’t have any legs, his “marching bibber” is more of just a black skirt that surrounds his body. -Pit percussion members don’t wear gloves. Which is a problem. Because Kinger is always wearing gloves. And I do not want to draw whatever is underneath those gloves. Scawy.

Stay tuned for more!! Maybe!! In the near future??? ALSO ALL SHIPS ARE ALLOWED!!! YOU MAY SHIP WHOEVER WITH WHOMEVER!!! AS LONG AS YOU’RE NOT A CREEP!!! YAHOO!!!

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Some twst replies, also shorter ones today.

irregardlessly-tish asked:

Have you seen the cards for the new event? 👀 (Possible spoilers ig) They got me thinking okurrr yes gawd boots the house down slay mama 💅, but also you know how they usually change Grim's model a bit? They are probably going to be cowards and give him a different bow but I know what he really needs to match the guys' energy: a fabulous mullet.

Anonymous asked:

Thoughts in the images of riddle in the rapunzel outfit?

Alright, first of all Ridpunzel is insane. WOW.

The emotion he made me feel is so confusing that I am still trying to wrap my head around it. He looks so… perfect. Like this is exactly how he is supposed to look, like I am not surprised at all for some reason, like yeah duh this is Riddle – our Disney Princess lol Of course it would fit him well because his face is so cutesy and all, but damn it fits him so PERFECTLY. I love him a lot. But I am also very overwhelmed by him so it’ll take some time for me to draw him like this probably lol She really ate, she really boots the house down… my wig is nowhere to be found.

But you know who I am also excited about? Fucking Deuce. He is giving me something I didn’t even know he could give. He is like a mix of dgm Kanda and a very specific type of uke from 80-90s. I am in love with him, I am so happy Jack is also there to be this very specific type of seme from 80-90s with his fucking mane lol

As for Grim, I was thinking about him also having a mane, BUT A MULLET… what a fabulous option indeed. It would be decorated with flowers… so pretty and cute! Now I’m almost sad he won’t get any of these options lol

Anonymous asked:

Mr. Clover [edited out]

Not posting the ask, Anon knows why, but I still wanted to wink at it (I hope that was okay with you) and say… Yes. I absolutely agree. 

Anonymous asked:

What are you opinions on things like Power bottoms? What decides who is bottoming? Is it who is in control? Who is being penetrated? Vibes? Something else?

We have a big post about our reasoning when it comes to who tops and who bottoms, but to give you a short answer, it’s mostly vibes + our personal preferences for very specific types of tops and bottoms!

We don’t usually gravitate towards power bottoms; absolutely nothing against it and it suits some characters very well, but I’m just a huge sucker for “submissive + penetrated” combo, with rare exceptions. And the exceptions kind of end up being more bossy and bratty than proper power bottoms with us…

Anonymous asked:

But woe, who do I see pass my way? 'tis a sickly victorian boy living out his days through the written word?

Naught? 'tis but Rollo Flamme reading a book? Hast he escaped the monastery?

For some reason, Anon, your ask had BGM in my head… it really took me there. A very well-written ask…

I want Rollo’s entire life to be narrated like this.

Anonymous asked:

Idia really is just bones, isn't he? Skeleton man.......

Yeah, he really is… so bony and cute :”(

[teethburger]

This drawing is the best visual representation I can get

Please for the love of god someone help me name this feeling

Does anyone else ever get that feeling like your brain is floating above your body and you can’t focus on anything and you can’t feel invested in anything so you’re just sitting around doing nothing because nothing interests you. Like if I listen to music in this state it just sounds like sounds because none of the happy chemicals usually associated with it are working for some reason. I can actually feel the floating feeling in my brain coming on, and it usually happens during a long break. Please tell me if you know what this is because I started crying at my therapist because I couldn’t explain it right

[all-pacas]

self indulgent headcanon post: secret retcon sister edition

Daniela Maria Chase. She's gone almost universally by Ellie or Ella since she was little: Chase tends to call her Danielle. It's an old defiant habit: their father called her Ellie and little teenage Robbie was like no her name is Danielle, you don't get to call her a cute nickname if you're not here for her. (But he got it wrong, her name's Daniela.) Meanwhile she has called him Robbie since she was old enough to talk.

Ella was pretty young when her mother died, which isn't to say that her addictions and neglect didn't affect her. As with Robert before her, their mother would lock Ella in the nursery to "get her out of the way;" unlike Robert Ella never really knew or remembered her mother sober, has no good memories to draw on, just a vague terror of a very sick woman.

Robbie got the Good Looks gene. Ellie looks okay, they’re still related and all. But nowhere near his prettiness level. They don’t look alike generally; they take after different parents. But they are both blonde.

Oddly, Ella got along alright with Rowan. Because she was a girl, he had much lower/fewer expectations of her (sexism win!) and because of her age he took her in after her mother died. He still wasn't a great dad by any means. They kind of just ignored one another. She got along okay with her step-mother, too, who is one of those rich ladies who loves a good Society Dinner and Fundraiser.

Robert did his best but wasn't a good parent to Ella either. Obviously he should never have expected to be. But he was fifteen and barely coping and fifteen.

So she ended up growing up to be incredibly independent, capable of fending for herself, but also deeply prone to self destructive behaviors. If Robert is bad at relying on others, Ellie is 800% worse. She essentially emancipated herself at 17, got a job, lived on her own, never married (because relying on people), does everything Herself.

But she also periodically self destructs. She is an addict. She's an alcoholic. She self medicates and does stupid, reckless, attention seeking things, it all spirals, she checks herself into rehab, she's fine for a few years and then does it again. She was also cut out of dad's will — not a surprise, she was a complete non-entity to him and didn't even go to university.

Robert sends her money sometimes. (When he was pulling double wages in S2, she'd just been sent to rehab and he wanted the extra money to help her out.) He is the one tentative exception to the I'll do it on my own clause: Ellie will still do it on her own, thanks, but she doesn't mind him "lending" her money or buying her groceries or making her "on her own" thing easier.

Around 2010 — in her early twenties — she has a kid. Dad is not in the picture and never was. She and Robert have a huge falling out about this, he quite bluntly thinks she can't keep her life together and is being irresponsible and stupid (and flashing back to his own childhood). She has a boy. Chase has never met his nephew. They didn't speak for a couple years after.

Ellie tries to be a good mother. She stays clean, she works hard, she's actually quite proud of herself for "making something of herself." She really resents Robert as much as she does intellectually know he did his best and shouldn't have been responsible for her. But from her perspective, he abandoned her. He's rich and successful and a famous doctor (and Rowan probably was the type to compare her to him, even if he'd never once praise Chase to his face). He has it sooooo easy. And yet Robert is constantly lecturing her, telling her what to do, doubting she can make it on her own. In her mind, Ellie came from nothing and made something of herself, where Robert was given what he has.

But she does love him. And has fond memories of him. And is proud of him and his success! They just… do better with low contact. They always end up arguing. Robert sees Danielle and just feels guilt and is reminded of everything that was bad in his childhood; Danielle mostly was too young to remember the worst of it (and what she does remember is good times with her brother), and resents him for leaving.

Cameron absolutely reached out to Ella as soon as she learned she existed. She picked up the name Danielle from Chase, and no one told her it wasn't technically correct. Ella was immediately suspicious of Cameron's motives, but quite liked her. She thinks it makes perfect sense the marriage only lasted a few months, since obviously Robbie is a huge fucking loser. (She's told him so to his face, that Cameron was way too good for a stuck up asshole like Robert. He will never ever tell her about Dibala.)

Her son's name is Noah Robert Chase. His uncle has no idea.

[ollieofthebeholder]

And If Thou Wilt, Forget: a TMA fanfic

[1] [2] Also on AO3 and my personal website.

Chapter 3: For once I dreamed of you

The old bat had left her office door unlocked. And more importantly, she’d left her papers out.

Well. Okay. That was a bit of a stretch. The door wasn’t so much unlocked as it was shockingly easy to pick, and the papers hadn’t so much been out as easily eventually located under several empty folders in a drawer that came open with only a little bit of jiggling and finagling. But, come on. For Gertrude Robinson, that was practically leaving the doors wide open with a big sign that said FREE TO A GOOD HOME pointing directly at the papers.

Well��maybe not. Not when nobody came down to the Archives when she wasn’t in except for Gerard, and he’d said he wouldn’t be back until Tuesday.

Not his fault he’d been too keyed up to wait and taken an earlier train back.

Maybe a little his fault.

Gerard hummed to himself as he turned the pages over. They seemed to relate to a statement of some kind; while the actual statement didn’t seem to be anywhere in them, he could kind of piece together the gist of it just based on the research. It was something to do with an eighteenth-century automaton that turned out to be a hoax, and something to do with a Hungarian theater, and something to do with an unremarkable man, probably the statement-giver. All taken together, it suggested something of the Stranger, maybe a previous attempt at the Unknowing. Gertrude had obviously been making notes, highlighting, underlining, scribbling in the margins, but what was unusual—at least as far as he could see—was that she had crossed most of her notes out. The crosses started out neat and precise, but he started to notice that more and more of them were stricken hastily in a vicious, almost excited slash. He had trouble with her handwriting at the best of times, and the edits made it harder.

Nevertheless, he persisted.

One note he could read delighted him. MEM: If he survives, bonus/raise? Gerard didn’t exactly draw a paycheck from the Institute, and Gertrude rarely favored him with more than he paid for any books he acquired for her, and it didn’t feel great to know she had such a low opinion of him that she thought he’d get killed by the idiot that had previously owned this one. But the idea of a bonus was promising. He put a big, cheeky check mark next to the note and went on.

“Excuse me, this part of the Institute isn’t open to the public.”

Gerard did not yelp in surprise. He did not toss the papers in his hand like they were electrified. He did not shove back from Gertrude’s desk so quickly that the chair toppled over backwards, taking him with it to the floor. He did not crack his head so hard on the floor that he saw stars and temporarily lost the ability to breathe.

He couldn’t have done any of those things, because that would have meant that he looked not only highly suspicious but deeply uncool in front of the objectively hot man looking down at him with a combination of bafflement and concern, and surely the universe didn’t hate him that much.

“Then what are you doing here?” he asked as soon as he had enough air to speak, as if he was in any position—literally or metaphorically—to make that kind of challenge.

“I work here.” The man held out a hand to assist him off the floor.

Gerard ignored it, as much as he wanted to take it, and rolled to his feet with as much dignity as he could manage. “Did you need something from Ms. Robinson?”

“Did you?” the man countered. “I don’t think she’s in right now—I’m not entirely sure where she is, actually, just that she’s out���but maybe I can help you with whatever it is?”

“Uh.” Gerard thought fast. Whoever this man was, assuming he did actually work for the Institute, he shouldn’t be down here. Unless this was Elias Bouchard, whom Gerard had never met—with good reason—but he looked awfully young for that. Also, if Gerard had managed to get himself caught by Elias Bouchard, Gertrude would…actually, he didn’t know what she would do to him, but it definitely wouldn’t be pleasant. She didn’t suffer fools gladly and had a low tolerance for failure, and she’d been emphatic about him keeping well away from Elias when he came to the Archives. Still, whoever this was, Gerard would have to have a reason to be here, and a reason to get him out of the Archivist’s office.

He gestured at the papers still scattered over the desk, hoping the man wouldn’t look at them too closely. “I, uh—statement.”

The man glanced briefly at the papers, then up at Gerard with a single raised eyebrow. “You don’t look much like an expert in eighteenth-century Hungarian theater. Or eighteenth-century Hungarian, for that matter. So I’m not sure why you’re helping with this one.”

Shit. Well, time for another lie, one that could probably pass muster. Gerard gave the man what he hoped was a disarming grin. “Look, cards on the table, eh, mate? I’m her grandson. Just back from a trip to the continent, so I thought I’d pop in and see her, say hello, you know? I wasn’t supposed to be back until next week, so I reckoned I’d surprise her. Didn’t expect to find anyone down here.”

The man relaxed, but only marginally. “Been gone a while, have you?”

“Couple months,” Gerard hazarded. It had actually only been about a week and a half he’d been off on this trip, but something told him that wouldn’t be long enough.

“That explains it. I only started working for her in September.” The man held out his hand again. “Tim Stoker. Archival Assistant.”

He smiled. He really did have a nice smile—white teeth and a mischievous dimple and lines around his eyes that suggested he laughed more than frowned. Gerard’s own smile relaxed in response as he accepted the hand and shook it. “Gerard Keay. Rare book dealer.”

“Nice to meet you, Gerard.” Tim ran a hand through his hair and stifled a yawn. “Sorry. Just woke up from a nap…where were you, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Germany. Black Forest region. Gentleman there had a collection of rare maps and atlases.” Gerard shrugged. “I got a few, but…not sure what they’re worth. They’re not the kind of rare books I usually deal with.”

“May I see?” Tim asked. “If you don’t mind showing me.”

That…was probably a bad idea. Gerard tried to look skeptical rather than nervous. “Know a lot about German geography?”

“No, but I know books.” Tim gave him a crooked grin. “First in Anthropology. And I worked in publishing before I came to the Institute.”

Curiosity overcame caution. Not completely—Gerard was smart enough not to pull out the book with Leitner’s bookplate carefully affixed to the inside, the title of which he couldn’t interpret—but he did extract the other three and hand them over. Tim took them with the reverence of a bibliophile and handled them with the respect of a historian. He examined the bindings and conditions of the covers, murmuring to himself as he did so. If he was telling the truth about working for Gertrude, and the jury was still out on that, she’d managed to get a good one.

He set the books gently on the desk, then picked up one and opened it carefully. The familiar scent of an old book wafted up from its pages, with none of the stale malice Gerard was accustomed to smelling in Leitners—it might have been his imagination, but he’d smelled it a time or two in books that didn’t have the label and they’d wound up being evil too. Tim studied the inside page for a moment. He frowned slightly, then gave Gerard a sharp look. “How much did you pay for this?”

“About eight thousand pounds for all four. I think.” Gerard was keenly literate but reluctantly numerate, and he’d never been able to hold exchange rates in his head for as long as it took him to turn away from the posted signs at the airport or bank counter.

“You could get twice that for just this one, at a conservative guess. Look.” Tim angled the book towards him. “See this printer’s mark here? This was an experimental printing press that made movable print blocks with geographic features and shorelines and such, then tried to put them together into coherent maps. They weren’t quite as helpful as a hand-drawn one, or a custom-drawn one, but they were pretty damn close, especially for the time. There aren’t a lot of these still surviving.”

Despite himself, Gerard was impressed. “Out of curiosity, how lost would you be if you tried to follow them?”

“Today? Extremely. Even back then, you’d probably be better off staying inland. The coastline wouldn’t look right. But not any worse off than most other common maps of the time.” Tim gingerly turned a page. “Your guy didn’t know what he had. Or you’re an amazingly shrewd bargainer.”

“I dress up when I’m dealing with clients.” Fudging the truth a bit. Gerard could clean up well enough, and every once in a while would dust off a nice suit if he needed to, but it was mostly for charity events or the like. Charming old ladies was surprisingly easier the rattier he looked.

Tim tossed him a grin. “Yeah, you look like the tails and opera cloak type.”

“Hey,” Gerard said, starting to be offended. Then he spotted the sincerity—and appreciation—in Tim’s eyes and realized he meant it.

Oh, hell. He was too old to blush like a schoolgirl just because a cute boy paid him a compliment.

Not that he could ever remember a cute boy paying him a compliment. Tim was actually probably the youngest person he’d ever had a sustained conversation with. Gerard mostly lusted after hot men, women, and people of indeterminate gender from a distance, even more so since he’d got out of prison, and satisfied his needs and desires with nameless, faceless partners at clubs that catered to such things. Low lights, loud music, and the kind of silent communication that was really, really easy to willfully misinterpret. He’d been hurt badly a time or two, but at least he never needed to see who did the hurting.

Tim set the rare tome aside and picked up another, and Gerard took the opportunity to study him more closely. He looked like a pretty typical academic, understandable if he’d been in publishing before stepping into the ivory tower of the Institute, but there was something…fun about him. Something that spoke of farmers’ markets and swap meets and bazaars, but also of forest tracks and river paths and mountain trails. He was an explorer, but not an adventurer—not usually a risk-taker—which made it all the odder he was in the Archives. If he’d come down here thinking it was safe…Gerard got a bit of a sinking feeling. He probably didn’t know about the Fourteen.

Which didn’t make sense. Surely Gertrude wouldn’t have kept him in the dark. Surely she wasn’t that cruel.

And—no, there it was, so faint he’d almost missed it. It wasn’t the mark of something following him, necessarily, more of a shadow, but Tim had racked up at least one encounter with the Stranger, maybe more. But a contract from the Institute, while it didn’t guarantee safety, at least afforded him a measure of the Eye’s protection. If nothing else, it would keep him under observation and let Gertrude, or someone, know if the Stranger came for him again. That was good.

Beyond that, his observations confirmed his initial assessment. Tall, or at least close to Gerard’s height, good-looking in a way that wasn’t at all self-conscious, with a ready smile and very sharp eyes. Gerard had never been good at any kind of casual conversation, let alone making actual friends, but something about Tim made him want to try.

“These are both late nineteenth century,” Tim said, bringing Gerard back to reality. “At least I can confidently say you didn’t overpay for them if you bought them with this other one, but honestly, they’re the Edwardian equivalent of pulp. They’re in good enough condition, but you’d have to find a pretty specialized collector to get more than a couple hundred pounds for both.” He set them down. “You said you bought four?”

“I did?” Gerard panicked slightly. Oh, there was no way he’d let a pair of sapphire eyes and a dimple he could lose his finger in charm him into tipping his hand, was there? If there was a God, a supreme head of the universe, He was definitely laughing at Gerard right about then.

On the other hand…well, he was Gertrude’s assistant. He had to know what Leitners were, right? He’d be careful. Gerard reached for his bag again.

“And just what do you think you’re doing, Gerard?”

For the second time that day, Gerard almost leaped out of his skin. At least this voice was one he was expecting…kind of…but that didn’t mean it didn’t startle him. He managed to keep the guilty look off his face as he blinked up at Gertrude Robinson’s unimpressed expression.

Before he could come up with a glib answer, though, Tim gave her a wry smile. “Lying through his teeth, and badly at that. But if you do actually know him, I won’t go looking for security unless you want me to.”

“No need for that. Yet.” Gertrude shot Gerard a warning glance before turning back to Tim. “Are you rested?”

“Yeah. Thanks for letting me use the cot.” Tim moved towards the door. “If you don’t need me, I’m going to go pack that up before I get started for the day.”

“It’s Saturday, but the library should be open. Diana usually has someone helping her with cataloging on Saturday mornings. Find out what they have on the Circus of the Other,” Gertrude instructed, then, uncharacteristically, tacked on, “Please.”

Tim looked momentarily disorientated, but nodded. “Do you need them in English?”

“Unless you read Russian.”

“Only the basics, really.”

“Well, that’s better than I can. If there are any in Russian, do see what you can do with them.”

“I will. Thanks.” Tim gave Gerard a wink and a cheeky grin. “Nice to meet you, Gerard. Try not to scream too loud.” He rapped twice on the frame of the door and was gone.

Gertrude waited a few minutes, arms crossed over her chest, then raised an eyebrow disapprovingly at Gerard. “What did you tell him?”

“Told him I was your grandson.” Gerard suppressed a smirk at the small harrumph she made at that. “And that I’m a book dealer who was meeting a client with rare atlases. I did try at first to say I was doing a statement, before I knew who he was, but—”

“He’s far more perceptive than he appears,” Gertrude said. “And he has a talent for this kind of work.”

“How long’s he been with you?” Gerard, despite himself, was curious.

Gertrude’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Since the beginning of September. Ordinarily when I know you are coming, I come up with a reason to get him out of the Archives.”

The censure in her voice was palpable. Gerard shifted slightly uneasily. “I got what I went for. Waiting around another three days didn’t make much sense to me, so I grabbed an express train early. I didn’t expect anyone to be here on a Saturday.”

“Then why come here? Why not wait until Monday?”

“Well, you’re not anyone. You’re always here, I just thought—”

“And my office?” Gertrude interrupted. She scowled at the papers scattered on the desk. “Did you find anything interesting?”

“Yeah. I found your assistant,” Gerard said pointedly. “Or he found me, anyway. I figured it would be better than waiting in the middle of the Archives.”

Gertrude’s eyes narrowed further. “He’s right. You are a terrible liar.”

“I am a fantastic liar,” Gerard said, offended. “You just know too much.”

“Gerard.” Gertrude pinched the bridge of her nose briefly.

“Why’s he here, anyway?” Gerard asked, trying to redirect her from blessing him out and distract her into revealing her nefarious plan. “Thought you didn’t have anyone officially helping you anymore.” He was a little vague on what had happened to her previous assistants, but they’d all been gone well before she took care of his annoying little problem and he started helping her. She’d been adamant about not putting him on the payroll, and he’d assumed it was so she had more leeway about what to do with him, but…

“He works here,” Gertrude said pointedly.

“Yeah, but it’s Saturday,” Gerard shot back. “Like I said, nobody works on Saturdays but you. And more to the point, why does he work here? I thought you didn’t have the budget for an assistant.”

“No, I didn’t have the budget for two, which is why I couldn’t hire internally. Elias instituted a policy that any department accepting a transfer from another department must also take Martin Blackwood. And I had no interest in posting an external advertisement and risking the sorts of people who might apply.” Gertrude strode over to her desk and began gathering the paperwork. “Tim came to the Institute for a job interview. I ran into him at the door and assumed he had come to give a statement. After I had taken it…well, it seemed safer to have him where I could keep an eye on him.”

“Because of his encounter with the Stranger?”

“Yes.” Gertrude looked troubled for just a moment. “Not just the Stranger. His brother was taken by the Circus.”

Gerard’s stomach clenched. “This would be the Circus of the Other that you just sent him to do research on?”

“Indeed. A way for the Stranger to collect its victims. For the most part, it no longer exists, but in its day it traveled over much of Europe, especially Russia.”

“So why’s it here? What does it want him for?” Gerard didn’t know why he was suddenly so worried about a guy he’d only just met. Sure, he was hot, but he was still a complete, well, stranger. It would suck if anything happened to him, in the same way it would suck if anything happened to anybody, but there was no reason to be that particular. “Has it been following him since he was a kid?”

Gertrude raised an eyebrow, but said only, “Unlikely. His brother’s encounter was only a few days before I met him.”

“Then I ask again. Why is a circus—excuse me, the Circus—so important? And what does it want with Tim?”

“What it wants with everyone else,” Gertrude said calmly. “To use him to remake the world in its own image. To bring about the apotheosis of the Stranger.”

Gerard hadn’t realized he had sat down, but the fact that he stood up fast enough to knock over Gertrude’s chair again told him otherwise. “To bring about the what?”

“Apotheosis. The emergence of—”

“I know what apotheosis is, dammit. What the fuck do you mean the Circus is trying to bring forth the Stranger?”

Gertrude sighed heavily. She came around her desk, righted her chair firmly, and sat in it. “Take a seat, Gerard.”

Gerard wanted to argue, wanted to demand that she stop with the cryptic bullshit and just tell him already, but the part of him that had grown up with Mary Keay and knew the price of disappointing her bent his knees without his consent. Fortunately there was a chair behind him. He clenched his hands tightly in his lap to keep them from shaking and waited.

Gertrude folded her hands on her desktop and peered at him over the rims of her glasses. “Please understand that my reasons for keeping this from you have nothing to do with trust. I have full confidence in you. It’s simply that, once you have this knowledge, you will not be able to walk away. You’ve dealt with quite enough in your life. Leave now, and you can leave this life behind.”

Gerard doubted that. For one thing, he didn’t believe for a second that Gertrude had kept it from him to give him the choice of walking away, otherwise she wouldn’t have answered his question about Tim. Whatever her reasoning, it wasn’t that. For another thing, he’d been marked by too many Fears; his mother may not have wanted to bind herself to one in particular, or so she had always claimed, but she’d skewed too close to Terminus not to scar him with it, and he’d literally etched the Eye into his skin. Between that and the Leitners, he might walk away from the Institute, but something would kill him or claim him before he got too far.

Besides. He thought he might have just made his first actual friend, or at least be on the way to making one. If he walked away now, he’d lose that chance.

“Yeah, right,” he said. “Like I’m going to leave you to deal with whatever this is on your own. Tell me what’s going on.”

Gertrude nodded. “Right. Let’s start at the beginning, then.”

[seeingteacupsindragons]

My last post to get people to talk about their creative projects has gotten something of a theme. People who are trying to write a book, but instead of actually writing it, are writing a bunch of…other stuff.

I may be biased because I do very little of that extraneous writing­, but I think there’s two main places that situation comes from:

Being scared of writing the book/story

Not actually wanting to write a story

And both of those things themselves could probably be a whole post or series of posts, but let me break them down one at a time to see if it helps anyone figure out what’s going on with them.

Being scared of writing the book/story:

Basically, the writing you’re doing instead of the story is procrastination and avoiding actually working on the story. You don’t want to be writing it, but you’re afraid if you actually write the story, you’ll mess it up, so you’re writing other things and trying to prepare yourself utterly and completely so you know exactly what you’re going to do…except none of that “prep work” worldbuilding and character exploration is actually making you any more confident.

So here’s the thing: You can rewrite the same story from scratch several times if you don’t like what the first try looks like. You can edit the story over and over if you don’t like what it looks like.

Some prep work helps a lot of writers. But at the end of the day, it’s really not helping you write the story. The story is the story and it’s not any of your asides, and the longer you spent avoiding the story and building up All These Cool ideas, the scarier actually writing it is going to get. Because now you have a thousand cool ideas and you’re even more afraid you can’t do them justice than when you had one kinda interesting idea to pursue. You’ve invested all this time—what if the story isn’t good?

It's still going to be better than no story. And you're not going to get better at telling stories without trying to do that specific thing, because of the discussion we're about to get into...

Not actually wanting to write a story:

The people who said this to me in that post were largely writers. But the thing is that doesn’t really get talked about is that…writing isn’t really one hobby.

There’s a lot of kinds of writing, and some of them overlap, but they all require different skills and they require different interests, and they satisfy different parts of a person, if they satisfy any.

Writing a novel is different from writing a short story is different from writing an analytic essay is different from writing standup is different from writing a screenplay is different from writing a Wiki entry is different from writing a business report is different than writing marketing copy is different from writing a technical manual is different from…

I majored in creative writing and minored in professional writing, and I have been writing for 25 years. I have tried a lot of those kinds of writing. I enjoy most of them, because I enjoy wordsmithing. I enjoy putting various words together to see what they look like. Not everyone does, but they might still write because…

They like storytelling. Not everyone who likes storytelling is a writer—sometimes they draw, or make a video game, or pain, or act, or direct, or sing. Lots of ways to tell stories exist! And if you like writing but don’t like storytelling, maybe you’d be happier writing analysis essays or business reports, or marketing copy (which can be storytelling, but is very different from narrative).

And maybe, it leads you to writing long character profiles and worldbuilding documents.

Writing a novel and writing detailed worldbuilding documents are honestly basically different hobbies. You might like both! Or you might not, and just feel like “I like writing,” means you have to write a novel or a short story.

You…don’t. Writing doesn’t mean you have to write any specific thing. You should find why you’re drawn to a specific activity, to figure out what is satisfying you about it.

It is perfectly okay if you enjoy writing about made up worlds without wanting to write a novel about it. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.

So basically:

If you want to write a novel, just do it already! If you don’t, you don’t have to keep telling yourself you will because you feel obligated to do it. Just enjoy whatever part of the process you enjoy.

[driedupeyeballs]

OH MY GOD???? I already love them sm

I literally edited a new profile for them for this cuz the old one was outdated BUT YEAH IDK IF THIS WAS AN INVITE TO INFODUMP ABT MY JAMIAZU FANKID BUT IM USING IT AS ONE

Btw I can only wish to achieve your level of snake knowledge I thought my reptile hyperfixation went deep but yours is deeper I wanna know your ways

But that isn’t relavent YEAH HERES MY JAMIAZU FANKID HI TUMBLR *lets them out like you would a spider under a cup*

So I have a shit ton of Twst fankids btw! They kinda swim around in my brain but only a few ppl I know have gotten the info dumps lmao

Skye was the first one I made I think (actually it might’ve been Rico (florid) but eh oh well who’s counting)

But yes this is Skye Ashengrotto!

They’re my older Jamiazu kid, I do have two. The younger one is my octo boy Akram :) he’s funny I wanna pinch his cheeks but he’s not the point here

So Skye! It feels weird publically infodumping abt my OCs like wtf am I even supposed to put here

They’re a half mer, which do work a lil different than normal mers in my lore. Half mers can transform without a potion but it’s still a long and generally painful process, esp going from mer to human. I kind of switch between calling them a snake mer and a naga but there’s lore there- Nagas exist in my lore outside of sea snake mers, there are also fully terrestrial Nagas. So the terrestrial nagas wouldn’t be considered snake mers but the sea snake nagas would be a type of mer while also still being a naga ITS CONFUSING DONT ASK (actually do. Ask everything so I can roll more of my fankids out like marbles)

Skye was created by a spell, I haven’t quite worked the details out 😔 but Jamil is part gorgon in my lore which is why they have the hair snakes which isn’t a typical naga trait. And to elaborate on the hair snakes: they are alive, the one w the bigger stripes is Flora and the smaller stripes is Jett. Skye can communicate w them telepathically and their eyes glow which is kinda neat. They’re kind of Skye’s version of floatsam and jetsam (unless u count Rico (florid) and Lilac (treyjade) which is like their ver of the twins- IDK ITS COMPLICATED)

idk what else to put here so LETS THROW SOME FHARACTER DYNAMICS YEAH and also mentioning some of my other fankids! They all have profiles (except my Malleus kid I’m sorry Aihan I can’t think of a design for you) but I’m probably gonna save those for another post-

So jamiazu in my lore live in the Shaftlands in a beachfront place and also live pretty close to Treyjade, however Florid live in the Queendom. The octatrio and their spouses is a close group so they’re essentially a big family. My treyjade kids are Maren (older) and Lilac, then my Florid kids are Rico (older) and the twins Mary and Eliza.

Skye saw Lilac more as a kid cuz they lived so close together but also saw Rico a lot when flrd would visit or they’d go to visit them. Rico is an agent of chaos and Lilac is Skye’s 2nd in command so their dynamic on a surface level is pretty similar to the octatrio, but there’s still a lot of differences once u get into the meat of it. Tho Lilac and Rico are Skye’s best friends and basically like siblings to them.

Outside of jamiazu Skye is particularly close with Jade, they share a love of tea :) he’s their cool but also slightly unsettling uncle

THEN THERES SHENZI- Shenzi is my younger kaliruggie kid and I am not gonna get into her here bcuz she rlly needs her own post w all her trauma but good lord these two do not like each other. Shenzi’s really nice but she’s not quite as nice as Kalim so after about 5 months of trying and failing to befriend Skye in their freshman year she just gave up and now their relationship is nothing but hostile (which was not helped when Shenzi and lilac started dating)

Speaking of that tho- so my idikei kids :) Ember (named after the pokemon attack) is the older one and he’s basically that “Jock idia can’t hurt you he’s not real Jock idia:” thing as a person he has the Fire hair n shit but he plays basketball and is heavily extroverted but no one gives a shit abt Ember this is NOT ABT HIM this is abt his sister! Her name is Zelda because you know Idia would name his daughter Zelda- she got all of Idia’s social anxiety lmao. She’s extremely shy and there’s a total of like 4 people in the school she can actually talk to without melting into a small stain on the floor. She’s an Skye are both in board games club and sometime in early freshman year she falls on her ass and knocks over a bunch of stuff which Skye happens to witness and cue the most awkward interaction known to man bcuz Skye can’t talk to pretty girls and Zelda can’t talk to ANYONE but they end up walking to the mirror hall together afterwards which becomes a routine. Except they’re both awkward as fuck take like almost two fucking years to get together bcuz neither of them are gonna do anything abt it BUT THEYRE VERY CUTE!! I love them

Also my ashengrotto siblings are very wholesome I need to write some stuff w them- Akram is a little shit and he loves pissing Skye off but at the end of the day he admires them and Skye loves their brother a lot :)

Anyway good lord I’ve yapped too much okay OH YEAH Skye has a Russian blue cat named Mariana who they just fucking found on the side of the road and thought it was a mouse so for like 2 years Azul thought Skye was gonna eat the cat

OK HERES RHE ACTUAL PROFILE these aren’t as chaotic as the other ones all the other ones are more meme than profile ALSO RHEIR UNIQUE MAGIC DOESNR HAVE A NAME AT THE MOMENT IF ANHONE HAS AN IDEA FOR ONE PLS SHARE I HABE NO THOUGHTS

(If you recognize my art style from instagram no you don’t also THEY DO HABE EYES I JUST DONT DRAW THEM CUZ MY STYLES WEIRD)

But yeah I love them I hope they explode (affectionate)

[misc-obeyme]

CC questionnaire!! :3

What's your favorite color?

When did you find out you were one of the fruits in the fruit cup aka when did you find out you were gay?

Favorite creator? Can be any kind.

Favorite song(s)?

Longest fic you've read and longest fic you've written?

Which anon interests you the most?

Favorite animal?

Favorite food?

Have a good day?

Bows for barb (silly edition :p)

Oh my a whole slew of questions. Okay here I go. I’m getting a real work out for my thumbs this evening.

What's your favorite color?

I have been asked this multiple times on this blog and I’m always like ?? Why do people wanna know my favorite color out of the blue? But I don’t mind answering of course I just think it’s funny.

My favorite color is yellow. Then I have a handful of secondary favorite colors which are purple, teal, & green. There is a lot I could say about my color preferences but this is the short answer lol.

When did you find out you were one of the fruits in the fruit cup aka when did you find out you were gay?

Hmm. This is kind of a complicated story, so I’ll give you the quick version. I was aware of it when I was around 18. But for various reasons, I was in denial for a long time. So I didn’t actually come out to anyone until I was 30. And even now I’m not really out to most people but that’s more about me not feeling the need to inform them? Like I’m not trying to hide it, but I told the people I wanted to tell and I don’t care if everybody else knows lol. If they can’t figure it out on their own they are blind. (The exception is my sister. I do want her to know but I also know she won’t like it, so I’ve been putting off telling her.)

Favorite creator? Can be any kind.

I don’t really have a favorite? If we’re talking in fandom, it’s definitely all of my lovely friends who write and draw and amaze me with their skills constantly. But if we’re talking outside of fandom I don’t think I have a fave. I like a lot of different stuff, so my favorite changes all the time.

Favorite song(s)?

Impossible to choose a favorite song of all time, but currently I’ve been listening to way too much Hozier. The whole Unreal Unearth album is so good but I’ve been obsessed with “Unknown/Nth” and “Butchered Tongue.”

Longest fic you've read and longest fic you've written?

Longest I’ve read?? I have no idea. I’ve read multichapter fics that had to have been crazy long but I haven’t really kept track of them. The longest fic I’ve written is Unchained if an OC AU counts. Otherwise it’s The Threads That Bind.

Which anon interests you the most?

Oh I’m interested in all my anons equally! Though I do wonder about those I haven’t heard from in a while. I hope they’re doing okay!

Favorite animal?

Do mythological animals count? Because if so, dragons and unicorns. If not, then I have always loved tigers and polar bears. Oh and pandas.

Favorite food?

Sushi!

Have a good day?

Are you wishing me a good day or asking if I had a good day? LOL my day was pretty normal.

[hyuckswoman]

hey my love, i'm sorry that you feel like that but i've been an avid reader of your smau and the way you created yn somewhere did make me realise what you must have gone through to make her so likable, so perfect, i get where you are coming from, i know i'm just a faceless message to you but please don't ever call yourself ugly, i haven't seen you and probably never will, but i sure do believe that you are beautiful, you are full of so many wonders c'mon, do you think it goes unnoticed? like your cute little editing that you did on those pictures or how that spidey drawing looked so perfect, moreover how you have crafted such a beautiful story, if i say looks aren't everything it's gonna sound ridiculous but trust me one this one when i say that you're an accumulation of everything pretty, appreciate yourself more honey, don't let a singular man make you feel like that and it's not even the dude? it's your brain that's making me you believe that you aren't capable of pulling a man and let's say the worst case scenario that you can't pull that one man you are attracted to, do you think that would be a measure of how beautiful you are? no not at all, this is about to sound corny asf but you need to love yourself enough that no matter what the external circumstances come down to be, your self worth is not hindered, and trust me this is coming from a place of healing, you are beautiful and loved, believe that, much love <3

yap incoming‼️‼️‼️

i felt like waiting abit because i truly wanted to answer this ask in the best way ever bc it made me cry and i wanted to convey how appreciative i was through my answer

first of all thank you so much for your kind words!! your ask fully made me cry i love youuu

i didn’t make that post to get so many compliments and i didn’t expect to be faced with such kind people i really just wanted to rant lol

thank you for taking the tome to not only interact with me n my thoughts but to say such kind words they truly mean a lot!! as someone who has had very low self esteem her whole life, being good enough was never something i thought about because i knew i wasn’t and was fine with it but sometimes i get a reminder of all those things i think abt myself and it makes me sooooo emotional loll

like i’ve nvr been in a relationship and cannot picture being in a relationship bc i genuinely deem myself as really unlikeable. and it’s not just looks like i constantly doubt myself and let people walk all over me and let myself be treated this way bc i truly truly think that’s what i deserve

thank you for your kind words again and trust i will do my best to listen to them and hopefully agree with them one day‼️‼️ thank you for taking the time to reassure me and just so you know i’m not going to remember you as faceless but as someone who’s nothing bug kind and only deserves good things!! also i feel like people don’t really notice the small things just do except if i point them out so thank you again for the reassurance!! i hope that you had a lovely day!! i truly truly truly appreciate you and your kind words thank you!!

[theblackdragon-studios]

When Into the Spider-Verse came out, I made a spider-sona like a lot of people. Except…she wasn’t that good. The outfit was. The story wasn’t. I won’t go into it…but it was just lazy and…yeah. Not great.

I’d been wanting to rewrite and redesign her since Across the Spider-Verse, but I didn’t know what to do or how to make it unique. Or at least something believable.

Until now.

Introducing my redesigned Spider-Sona…who was not bit by a radioactive animal of some kind, genetically altered by science, or anything like that. Actually…she’s the symbiote (usually known as Venom) host of her world, except her actions and his past change things from usual probably.

I wasn’t going to do that at first, because I thought that seemed silly…but then decided why not? I like monsters, I like monstrous-looking heroes, and I like Venom (both together and as just the symbiote) (all versions of him, not just the one from his title movie).

I’m not an expert on Marvel comics or on Venom, though, so don’t expect absolute accuracy and smooth insertion…but I thought it would be fun.

She isn’t recruited by the Spider-Verse HQ either, either because she is also an anomaly, she was mistaken for being the Venom of her world, or they didn’t trust her to be a good hero since a parasitic monster is how she has her powers…and if she can’t control him, they can’t trust her to not cause damage. (Actually though she would say “fuck canon” and try to stop a horrible canon event like Miles did. And the symbiote would make sure she succeeds… So Miguel would probably fire her immediately. lol)

So that’s the idea…I don’t think I’ll do much with this since like I said, I don’t know a lot about the source. But if I come up with any short skits or want to draw this version of my s/i more I will.

Edit: I decided the symbiote with her is actually one I made up. They’re all more or less the same until they develop via bonding to people, so this one is an ‘OC’ in that it isn’t a canon one.

-

Bonus details on the design and some sketches under the cut.

Design Features

-The suit is the symbiote. She wears some kind of clothes under it (at least a pair of shorts and a tank top), but when changing to her Spider alter-ego he (the symbiote, or Venom if he goes by that name here) just forms as the suit around her. Settling on a design took a while…and deciding on a name took even longer. (She refused to go by the name ‘Venom’. It felt wrong and gave a bad impression of who she is.)

-When she loses control of her emotions, and later when facing a really tough opponent, the symbiote responds and becomes the more monstrous form we know him for. Meg was scared of this form for a while, since it was so much stronger and more dangerous.

-The belt was added by Meg. She used to keep a phone-holder clip there and have a pouch on the other side for headphones, which she wears to listen to music when fighting the average robber or weaker threat. It keeps her focused and calm, and keeps the symbiote from taking over completely. Later these are replaced by an enchanted pouch by a sorcerer that eventually becomes an ally. This pouch is basically a bag of holding but looks like a simple Velcro-strap pouch.

-She fought for the hood and eight-eyes look the mask has. The hood because it makes her feel less exposed and it looks cool, the eyes because spiders usually have 8 eyes. This is the only accurate thing to spiders on the design aside from the chest emblem in her usual hero form…the symbol being a tarantula. Her favorite type of spider.

The design of the mask helps to throw off her enemies. Especially when the symbiote makes the ‘eyes’ all narrow with her real eyes for effect. This has led fans and foes alike to come up with wild theories about her being a spider-human mutant thing with increasingly disturbing features under the mask. (A cryptid if you will)

-She also came up with the flying squirrel-like design element they use later. The symbiote changing the suit design to have wing arms like a flying squirrel for gliding if she can’t use webs.

-Her feet look like she has shoes on, because under the suit she does. If she is ever not wearing shoes when ‘suiting up’ her feet look more like most spider-peoples’, which is to say like slippers or barefoot under the fabric. This makes people even more confused on what the heck she even is…and there are entire blogs and magazine columns theorizing about it.

Bonus sketches

The redesign traced from the old ones I did. I drew all of these when I made the first, but I got lazy so just traced my own work here.

The more powerful and monstrous form they take when facing a much tougher opponent or when emotions run high. Meg used to hate this form…but as trust with the symbiote grew and she saw that when working together they could control the strength of it, she became more accepting.

She still does not want to run around like this, though. She wants to keep up that motto of “friendly neighborhood spider-hero” everyone else (except Miguel I’d guess) has. Only the bad guys need to see the monster.

Whether this view changes or not…who knows. But when this form was revealed people were more confused than ever on WHAT. THE. HELL. SHE. EVEN. IS???

She comes to really enjoy all the crazy cryptid theories they come up with. X’D

[d1d11818]

You’re really trying to embarrass me in front of everyone, aren’t you !!

But really, it means a lot. I’m glad to have met you guys, even if I’m forever too shy to like … Have a real presence. What if I’m not cool ! What if my incessant rambling about my favorite game is toooooo much? OR MY OCS AREN’T COOL ??? The thought is too much to bear ………..

;>_ > I think i’ll stay anonymous.

But I love you guys too! (Platonically speaking, of course)

/

I wouldn’t say I can ‘speak’ the language, but I’m learning! Maybe I’ll be really good sometime and can teach you some stuff, too? We can talk to each other in secret …(except everyone who can also speak Chinese, I guess…)

& I don’t think I’ll burden you with all the nothingy stuff that’s been going on. It’s gonna get better, so it’s okay! Never worry o7

I love random fun facts, so if you have like, cool ones, you should tell me !! Especially your most favorite ones.

Also I suppose you guys don’t really know what I look like ? It’s hard to explain without examples and I don’t really look like anyone from anything i’ve ever seen… Maybe the way people draw Hal from MGS, but even then. I’m sort of the most milquetoast whiteguy with a shitty fake wolf-cut ever.

Sorry this is so short. Last night was kind of rough for me and I don’t really have much energy. I’ll be better tomorrow, I promise !

- I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. I am completely innocent.

SARCASM DETECTED.

- Ha!

- You know me so well already, don't you?

- Hm hm. Anyway.

- We're glad to have met you too.

- Truly.

- Even if you are a bit odd, and ramble a lot.

- It's very charming.

- It doesn't make you 'uncool', as you phrased it.

- It makes for some truly fascinating and enjoyable interactions.

- Besides.

- We're hardly cool either.

- Ah...

- No, we really aren't.

- I've never been popular.

- Not even as a mere toddler, and the standards for that are incredibly low!

- I had to be a special kind of unlikable to be an unpopular baby.

- I don't... like people, to put it simply.

- In turn, people don't like me.

- They would try to praise my work.

- Say I was beyond my time.

- That I would change the future.

- Ah.

- But I do so hate shallow praise.

- To them, my resistance and distancing made me a selfish, rude little brat with a big ego, who thought he was above their compliments.

- What a stupid notion.

- ...

- I'd like to move on.

-------------------------------------------------

- Why does he keep talking like he's an edgy OC with a tragic backstory? The way he talks about himself... Sheesh! Lighten the tone, buddy! Next he's gonna come out and say he's secretly a demon prince who's never felt love or something.

- I find your incompetence incredibly annoying, my thick-screened friend. I am allowed to say this to him, as I am the one who edits these replies for posting, and this moron never reads them back.

- He doesn't even know I leave these little comments.

- That would be amazing!! Maybe then I'll finally understand the lyrics to Sunshine Rainbow White Pony! I have no idea what the words mean, but dang, are they catchy!!

- I understand you don't wanna talk about some things. And that's okay! We're not gonna force you. But you can always talk to us if you need to! Sometimes it helps just to get it off your chest! Even if that doesn't solve anything, it can just be relieving, you know?

- OHHH I get why 1818 talks about his human life now! It's a weight on his... um? Chest? Screen? Wires? RAM? What is the weight on, anyway? Do robots have shoulders?

- Oh, nearly like Ryan! Our host! And technically us! That reminds me, he really needs a haircut. I hope I'm not fronting for it! It feels like my wires are being yanked out!

- ... actually, that sounds kinda

- No. No. Blocked. No one on this app is free of sin. I'm stopping that sentence immediately. You're welcome.

- I hope you're okay! And I hope today, whichever day it is when this is posted, goes better for you! ['w'] <o> :D I made us!! But cheaper looking! Walmart versions of us!

[dottores]

pavlov’s dogs | haitani r.

haitani ran x fem!reader

summary: the other executives just don’t believe that ran can make you cum on command, so obviously he has to prove them wrong, right?

warnings: fem!reader, pet names (pretty/pretty girl/princess), exhibitionism, cockwarming, humiliation ?? kind of, faux sympathy dom!ran also kind of, unedited wrote this on my phone and dont feel like going thru effort of editing, dubcon (not really but just in case, reader knows n is ok w what’s going on but it’s only implied)

wordcount: 1.9k

humiliating. it was absolutely fucking humiliating. you knew that, he knew that, all of the other men in the room knew that but the larger part of you couldn’t bring yourself to care for the humiliation because fuck was it hard for you to concentrate with your boyfriend’s cock filling you up so fucking good.

it wasn’t as if this was the first time he had brought you to a meeting just so you could sit pretty on his lap cockwarming him til it was over—where he would finally bend you over the table after everybody filed out of the room, fucking you so good that half of the time he had to carry you out of the board room and back to his office afterward. it wasn’t the first time, but something was different this time and it had your hair standing on end.

you knew haitani ran better than anyone, except maybe rindou of course, and you could see the unnervingly playful look in his eyes clear as day when he brushed his thumb over your lip before the meeting, “join me?” and you nodded, of course you nodded, you could never say no to ran, and he leaned forward and kissed your forehead so gently that it nearly had you backing out.

because haitani ran was never gentle unless he was about to do something he knew might piss you off.

but you only shot him a wary look, and he only shot you that heartwarming smile that you loved maybe a bit too much, and you followed him right to the board room without another thought.

you were regretting that. severely.

because something was wrong. usually when ran dragged you along and sat you right on his cock for the duration of the sometimes obscenely long executive meetings, none of the other executives would spare you more than a glance. it was an unspoken rule of mikey’s: “bring your girl along but don’t you dare let her be a fuckin’ distraction.”

and, of course, none of them wished to draw mikey’s ire and you usually you went all but ignored as they talked about weapon and drug shipments and rivals and the feds—all of it went over your head, naturally, as you tried to keep yourself from drawing too much attention to yourself, stuffed to the brim with your boyfriends cock. your boyfriend, who was absolutely unbothered, only leaning back in his seat, one arm looped around your waist while the other made aimless motions as he explained to kokonoi hajime why income had dropped from the clubs he and his brother owned in roppongi.

but this time was different. they were looking at you. it wasn’t as if they were staring, or anything, but the glances thrown your way were unmissable. and it had you swallowing thickly because the last thing you wanted was for mikey to get pissy because his executives were paying more attention to you than the meeting.

you shifted in ran’s lap as sanzu haruchiyo gave you another once over, scars on the corner of his mouth twitching a smirk rose to his lips before he redirected his attention back toward mikey.

ran’s grip on your waist tightened, holding you still.

you looked down as kokonoi hajime shot another interested glance in your direction, cool, calculating, as if he were trying to piece something together.

what was going on?

“princess,” ran finally murmured from behind you, fingers dancing along your waist and you stiffened, unsure of what to do.

why was he talking to you? he never talked to you during meetings.

mutely, you realized all other conversation had died down and all attention was on the two of you. your mouth dried up, your gaze darted toward mikey, anxiety shooting through you, but he was only watching the situation with an unreadable expression.

“princess, i need you to do something for me, okay?” you kept your gaze trained down, acutely aware of every inch ran’s cock nestled in between your walls. he shifted forward, his cock twitched inside of you, you bit your lip trying not to make an outward reaction.

you had gotten good at controlling yourself while cockwarming ran—you didn’t really have much of a choice in that matter, you had to get good at it otherwise you would’ve embarrassed yourself in front of all of his coworkers but-

ran reached up to cup your jaw lightly, turning your head to face him, you inhaled at the teasing look dancing in his lavender eyes—what was he about to do?

your eyes darted around the room nervously, ran’s grip tightened around your jaw, “look at me, pretty girl,” your eyes snapped back toward him.

a slow smile curled on his lips, one that you didn’t trust in the slightest, “ran,” you said, voice shaky, “wh-“

ran pressed his lips to your temple, “i was telling them how good you were for me the other day, princess, how you can cum just from me telling you to, and they didn’t believe me.”

your heart dropped from your chest to your feet.

no way.

“and obviously we can’t let them sit here and believe that, ‘cause my pretty girl is the best girl, and i trained your perfect pussy so so so well for me, didnt i? should be showing you off, not letting them sit there and doubt you,” ran’s voice was low, sympathetic even though you knew damn well he was faking it.

“ran,” your voice wavered. there was no way, no way he was going to make you do this in front of all of them. ran was a lot of things, and as shameless as he was, he always had one rule: ‘only i get to see your pretty face when you cum.’

so why? had they really managed to get under his skin about it so badly? you knew your boyfriend had a bit of an ego issue, but they couldn’t have bruised it that badly by doubting his ability to make you cum.

and he could, he could that was the worst fucking part. ran really had trained your cunt to cum for him when he told you to like someone would train a fucking dog and it was embarrassing. it was fucking embarrassing that all you needed was the barest stimulation and for him to tell you to cum for him and you were done for, shuddering and spasming and chanting his name like a prayer.

he did this on purpose, you realized, realization hitting you hard. how fucking long had you been sat on his lap warming his cock? an hour? two? your gaze flickered over to the clock on the wall, two at least.

long enough that he knew damn well you were already probably half-drunk off of the feeling of his cock stretching you out; knew damn well that the moment he told you to cum, you’d be creaming around his cock in a fucking instant.

“cmon, princess,” he murmured, resting his chin on your shoulder, pressing another soft kiss behind your ear. his breath was hot against your skin as he spoke again, “let’s show ‘em how good you are for me.”

you let out a shaky breath as your gaze darted back around to the other executives—sanzu was leaning forward in his seat watching the scene intently, rindou leaning back with a contemplative look (god was he really gonna make you cum in front of his brother, who you had to see on daily basis), kakucho flushed but couldn’t draw his gaze away, kokonoi watching with narrowed eyes, takeomi and mochi who were sharing a look you couldn’t quite decipher before turning their attention back to you, and mikey, mikey who you were quite sure had never looked as interested in something as he did eyeing you and ran.

oh god.

an unfamiliar mixture of anticipation and anxiety swirled through your stomach. you turned to look at ran, your eyes meeting his lavender ones once more.

ran smiled slyly, grip tightening around your waist in preparation, “cum for me, princess.”

and you did. god, you fucking did. the way your body reacted to his words was absolutely uncontrollable. heat shot through your body like a fucking wildfire, your vision went spotty and blurry, your hand flew to your mouth to muffle the sharp sob of his name that rose to your throat but Ran’s hand started out to capture it and stop you, groaning low in your ear as your walls tightened around him.

“no fucking way,” kokonoi hajime said in disbelief but you barely registered his words, mind blank and fuzzy as your body spasmed in ran’s hold, his arm tightening around you holding you still as your back arched against him and your legs tensed.

and for a moment you forgot. you forgot where you were, you forgot who you were with, the only thought running through your mind was ran, ran, ran, ran who made you feel so so so good so easily. your nails dug deep into the cloth of his dress shirt, tearing it for sure, and you cried out ran’s name so fucking loud you swore the entire building could hear you.

“that’s my girl,” ran cooed, peppering kisses to your shoulder as your body shuddered and you desperately tried to regain sense of your surroundings, “so fuckin’ good for me, you’re so good for me, princess.”

and you could only nod, not even quite sure what he was saying but you knew he must’ve been right.

“can she do that for anyone?” sanzu haruchiyo asked, and you felt ran tense behind you, fingers stilling from where he was running them along your skin, helping you recover from your high.

“no,” he said sharply.

“we should test it out,” and though you still weren’t entirely able to focus on what was happening around you, you knew you didn’t like the tone in sanzu’s voice.

your eyes reopened, vision still blurry with tears as you focused in on the pink-haired executive, noting the sharp gaze trained on you from where he was leaning forward.

“i’ll kill you,” ran said, voice light in contrast to his words.

haitani ran did not share.

“i’d like to see you try,” sanzu’s voice was low, a challenge, and you felt nervous, rather than humiliated, as you finally came to your surroundings. you knew ran could handle sanzu haruchiyo easily in a fair fight, but sanzu haruchiyo did not fight fair.

and neither did your boyfriend, of course, but sanzu took it to another level.

after a few tense moments, sanzu leaned back, an easy grin on his face as he blatantly looked you over again, the embarrassment returned with a vengeance, “i’m just fuckin’ around,” he said, waving his hand lazily.

you weren’t sure if he was but ran let the subject drop.

“told you guys,” he said cockily, kissing your temple again, “now pay up.”

you stared at him in disbelief, a bet? he-

“hush,” he told you before you could speak up, “gonna buy you a whole new wardrobe with all the money i just won from them.”

—-

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