#for those wondering who i used for the pictures

[universefcb]

↬❥ Big boy

Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

sy: When he gets freaked out by the huge height difference between you.

a/n: I don't like writing dirty things, but writing about this Pau Cubarsí made me crazy! I'm in love with it. And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.

Made for this request.

warnings: Pau Cubarsí is a naughty guy, he's a fiery boyfriend, a boyfriend crazy about the reader.

You took a sip of juice through a straw and watched your boyfriend play ball with some unknown kids on the beach. You smiled as you watched him lift two kittens in his arms, one on each side. You were drawn to the thick veins that appeared on his arm and you bit your lip. Your boyfriend was a big boy.

He continued to play and you watched. Few fans stopped to ask for photos, the beach was practically deserted and you thanked him mentally. You saw your boyfriend approaching after finishing the game with the children. Those who were now with their respective parents.

“You’re so thoughtful. We’re still too young to have a baby,” he joked, lying down next to her on the lounger.

“I was just looking at how handsome my boyfriend is.” Her hands held his biceps, pressing her chest against his. Only to seal her lips on his in a quick kiss.

“I feel embarrassed like this,” he chuckled softly, trailing kisses from her cheek to her neck.

His kisses on your neck were wet, and he sucked on your skin, and you already knew that a huge mark would be born.

“Pau…” you gasped, closing your eyes and squeezing his arms in your hand. “We’re in public..!

He chuckled against your neck, pulling away. Your eyes met and you reveled in the sight of that bright green staring back at you.

“I’m just going to take a dip and then we can leave.” He said, and got up, running towards the sea, throwing himself in.

You laughed, picking up your magazine and flipping through it again. You hadn't gone into the sea because of a small injury on your leg, so you chose to sit there. After a few minutes he came back.

You handed him the towel, and he dried his hair and torso afterwards. He helped you carry your things to put in the car. The sunset was beautiful, and Bife decided to take a picture of this wonderful landscape.

“I stayed still.” Cubarsí asked, taking his cell phone out of his pocket and taking pictures from different angles. “Hot..”

You smiled embarrassedly. Pau always praised you with these comments, or teased you with silly hands at inappropriate times. The boy only had an innocent face, but in reality he was a huge rascal.

You got into the car, and he drove calmly. You would never get used to the idea that Pau was now driving and had his own car.

As soon as he parked in front of your house, he looked at you with big eyes, like a begging puppy.

“Sleep at my house, it’s been a while since I’ve had you in my arms” your voice came out tearful and you laughed, circling his face with your hands, to get closer and brush the tip of his nose with yours.

“You have a game tomorrow morning, and if I sleep over at your house it will only be a nuisance.” He sighed, knowing it was true. “You need to play well so I can tell everyone what a hard-working and great player my boy is!

He smiled, bringing his face closer to hers. Lightly biting her lower lip. He held her hand, but seconds later he looked at her.

“What’s wrong?” you looked at your joined hands, and then laughed, already knowing why he was reacting. “You’re huge!

You saw him smile sideways “Not in that sense, idiot” you nudged him with your free hand, feeling shy due to the boy’s impure thoughts.

“You’re so tiny! My baby, my little baby.” He opened his hands, placing his palm over hers. “Wow!

His hands were much bigger than yours, the boy was very tall, at six feet and eighty-five. And you were almost a foot shorter than him. But it was no reason to complain, it was a reason to be proud just knowing that you have a huge boyfriend, who can carry you in his arms when you are sick or hold you like a baby when you are needy, you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

“You’re a huge boy!” You laughed, looking at him. He came closer again, starting to place kisses on your mouth, which were all returned. His huge hands were around you, holding you tightly. “Pau…”

You tried to speak, but he kissed you as if you were going to run away, and you really were.

“No..!” He mumbled, trailing kisses down her neck. “I miss you, I miss having you in my bed, or finding your clothes in my room. Please, just sleep tonight, I promise to play well tomorrow!”

You laughed at the boy's insistence. You sighed, caressing his puffy cheek.

“Okay, I'll just tell my parents and get some clothes.” She was going to get out of the car, but Pau stopped her.

“Wear one of my blouses”

“If I wear one of your shirts, we won’t sleep at night,” she blew kisses before getting out of the car, leaving Cubarsí completely speechless – or maybe with something else –

Your like is important and helps me a lot. Don't be a ghost reader!

[imsofreakingtired]

sevika x korean reader

(aka the most self indulgent hc list i will ever write that probably no one will read lol)

compARING HAND SIZES AS FLIRTING DFKJDSKDJ

south korean beauty standards are rough as hell. sometimes you get insecure about the shape of your face, your nose, and wonder seriously if you should get plastic surgery. when you tell her, she takes your chin in her hand and tilts your face up to look you in the eye. "the face you have now is the face i fell in love with. don't change it."

you whisper all your deepest feelings to her in korean so often that she understands and replies “i love you too” in accented korean and instead of giggling you correct her pronunciation to tease her (your heart's melting on the inside) "it's NA-DO SA-LANG-HAE." "bitch-- i tried."

you call her “sevika 오빠” (oppa, “older brother”, the korean equivalent of “daddy”) when you’re feeling coy and want to make her flustered, but usually “언니” (unnie, “older sister”, affectionate term a younger woman uses for an older woman)

other things you call her in korean: "네 강아지" (my puppy) "멋있어" (handsome) "자기야" (babe) "바보" (dummy) (your favorite)

you never do aegyo to anyone but her, she pretends to hate it but always snickers when you pull the "pretend to get something from your pocket and shoot her with a hand heart" move

you teach her every conceivable korean curse word and she memorizes them at a genius pace. whenever she drops something or burns her hand you hear her whisper “ssibal” (fuck) in the most perfect non-accented korean and you lose it every time

taking long walks beside the han river, watching the cars pass by on the bridge and the glimmer of seoul 

picnicking in the mountains and feeding her kimbap (she will not eat it unless you hold it out to her like she’s a little kid)

she’s also obsessed w shin ramyeon like every time you go grocery shopping she just throws like three packs of those spicy instant noodles into the cart 

she also loves kbbq and insists on grilling the meat herself because she supposedly knows the “secret” to making perfectly grilled samgyeopsal

if she's drunk enough on soju she will consent to you dragging her into a private karaoke room. she sings like a professional but claims to remember nothing the next morning, so you desperately wish you had recorded her.

she will never be caught dead taking one of those cute couple pictures at touristy locations but when you ask her to take pictures of you she takes the job as seriously as if she’s a professional photographer

you manage to drag her into a photo booth once. just once

she tries on men’s hanbok and OH MY GOD 

the neighborhood kids love her like they jump around calling her “sevika 이모” (ee-mo, auntie sevika) and want to hang on her arm and tell her to flex her arm to feel the muscle, they follow her around and she sometimes gives them melon candy if she happens to have some in her pocket

swears she does not cry at k-dramas. she cries at k-dramas. 

also swears she does not like k-pop songs but then you hear her playing "antifragile" while working out

CAFE DATES CAFE DATES 

once had to hold you back from beating the absolute shit out of a guy who said a racist comment to her. you beat him up anyway. 

figures out the complicated-ass subway system after two tries. this amazes you to no end. she knows exactly when to get off and where to transfer trains even though every announcement is in korean or japanese. 

on rainy days: she holds the umbrella as you walk down the backstreets of seoul, watching the water slide off the leaves and listening to the lonely calls of cicadas, your arm wrapped around her waist, leaning on her shoulder.

...yea,,,, sevika x korean reader....... ...

divider by @cafekitsune !

[eempyreall]

This is the original request. This story is the original characters’ version.

༺————————————————————————༻

♪ 𝐵𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑓𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑦 𝐷𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝐶𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑛 ♪

༺ The Auction ༻

Oneshot ~ Hybrids x Female Reader

Summary ~ You work for an auction house that illegally sells exotic hybrids.

Featuring ~ Original Characters: Arlo & Felix

Extra Notes ~ This is the non fandom version of this story. If you want to read the Tokyo Revengers’ version, press this link.

This story should only be posted under eempyreall on my tumblr. Report if you see it posted under anyone else but me.

Warning ~

You and the characters are 21+. Although I picture the reader as a black cis-gendered female, physical appearance will not be described at all.

Content within this story may not be realistic or factual.

I do not condone any of the behavior displayed within the story.

There may be dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit content, sexual content, non consensual and/or dubious consensual content, etc.

That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Despite your job as a maintenance caregiver for the hybrids, your morals do not match that of your role. It is your belief that, although hybrids are deemed monsters and creatures, they should be treated like any other human. However, the pay is undeniably convenient and quicker than any other regular career you could work for.

You never expected to get attached to any of the hybrids at the auction house. Your only job was to maintain their care before they were sold to the highest bidder. You had succeeded with your logical approach since you began working at the house a couple of years ago.

It wasn’t until two snow leopard hybrids appeared in a way that was hard to ignore.

“These are the new captures,” the gruff voice of the broad, middle-aged man states. “Clean ‘em up.” Your boss turns to leave the room as you examine the two men through the bars of the large cage.

The one on the left is tall, leaning against the cold metal wall with his arms lazily crossed over his chest. His long, dyed red hair drapes over his shoulders, a few loose strands framing his sharp jawline, smeared with dried blood. Crimson is also streaked down his fit torso, staining the large tattoo on his chest. A sly smirk spreads across his face as he eyes his extended claws.

His droopy, heavy-lidded purple eyes shift to yours, the weight of his gaze heavy despite the lighthearted expression on his face. His ears are perked as his tail sways slowly. If you look closely, you can even see the stained crimson on his black pants. You notice that he doesn’t look wounded, so you wonder where the blood came from.

Next to his standing figure is a man with similar features, sitting on the ground. One arm is draped over his raised knee while the other is planted on the bottom of the cage. His black hair is cut short at the sides but longer at his neck. His body has matching ink, though on the opposite side. Blood stains him just as much as the former.

His expression is indifferent, bored, as his heavy-lidded gaze sticks to the side, never meeting yours. His tail lies over the leg that’s flat on the ground, his claws extended as the dim light casts a glow over them.

Neither of them seem to be in pain. It makes you wonder what could’ve happened on their way here. If the older male had stayed, you would’ve asked so you’d know what to expect.

There are hybrids who are violent, indifferent, and scared. In your two years of working at the auction house, you’ve never come across anyone violent. You’re mainly consistent with those who are indifferent and scared. These guys don’t look scared. If anything, they look bored—but the blood says otherwise. It’s definitely not their own.

“You just gonna stand there and stare, or are you gonna clean us already?”

Your attention turns to the male sitting on the ground, whose eyes are now on you.

Day one was interesting, to say the least.

“You're handling me with such care, human~” the long-haired man drawled, the suds of the bath covering his lower half. His red hair drips with moisture as he watches you glide the cloth against the skin of his arm. “You like me or somethin'?”

You give him an unimpressed look as you release his wrist, tossing him the wet cloth before grabbing a clean one. “You can clean your own balls.”

The black-haired male snickered as you began to wash his back, while the older male whined, “Aww,” in response to your statement.

Once they were completely dried off and you had used the blow-dryer on their manes, you secured the collars around their necks and walked them to their new cage, their leashes in your hand.

They watched your figure as you walked in front of them, leading them to the cage, which had futons clean and ready for their temporary stay.

Once they were secured inside, you unhooked their leashes and locked the cage behind you.

The taller one leaned against the bars closest to you, his arms crossed above his head. “I wonder if you taste better than our lunch from earlier,” he said with a smirk.

You ignored him, suppressing the slight churn of your stomach so as not to give him the reaction he was looking for. It was best to pretend you hadn’t cared about what he said.

“Probably. That meal was ass,” the younger one stated as he relaxed on the futon.

You rolled your eyes and waved them off as you walked out.

When day two arrived, you entered the holding area in which the brothers were caged. The auction house was grand enough to have individual rooms, each holding at least two hybrids, secured behind bars.

The younger one sat on the futon, his back leaning against the back of the cage, arms draped over his bent knees as he idly flicked his tail. His black hair was slightly messier than before, and his sharp eyes followed your every movement.

The red-haired one stretched out across the futon, hands tucked comfortably behind his head as he cracked an eye open at your presence. His ears twitched, his tail flicking once before settling.

You unlocked the cage, stepping inside with ease. You didn’t say anything as you placed a tray of large raw fish inside.

“Room service, huh?” the older one smirked as he pushed himself up on his elbows.

You exhaled through your nose, unamused. “Eat.”

The following days became routinely consistent as you took care of the hybrids. You would arrive at their cage, feed them, monitor their vitals, bathe them, and feed them once more. Despite their playful behavior, you kept your responses short—yet somehow, they always found a way to pry a reaction out of you.

The older male, Arlo, had a habit of watching you too intently. He’d study your movements and expressions while lazily draping over the futon or leaning against the bars. Despite his laid-back persona, there was intent behind every word he chose, amusement reaching his expression as he smirked whenever your lips twitched at something he said. Although Felix was quieter, he was blunt, slicing through whatever wall you tried to keep between yourself and them.

They were different from the other hybrids brought to the auction house. They weren’t scared, angry, or hopeless—though you couldn’t blame the others for feeling that way. If anything, they seemed to enjoy their situation a bit too much, as if it were a game.

As time went on, you continued to do your job, but at some point, your indifference began to slip.

The first time you laughed, it caught you off guard.

It wasn’t intentional. Arlo had made some offhand comment—something absurd but delivered with such a straight face that you couldn’t help it. The sound barely left your lips before you caught it.

Arlo’s grin widened as Felix’s lips curved into a smirk. You rolled your eyes and turned away, shutting down and replacing the mask you hide your real personality behind. After that, they continued to try and get a rise out of you, their amusing behaviors becoming more frequent.

There were a couple more times that you failed to keep your composure, despite your better judgment. You’d even make a few sly remarks in return that would make them raise an eyebrow with an amused gaze, their ears perking up and tails upright with a curve at the tip.

Regardless, you still remained professional. You didn’t linger longer than necessary. You didn’t acknowledge the way Arlo’s eyes followed you when you walked away or how Felix’s tail would twitch whenever you got too close. You ignored the way their bodies would subtly lean in your direction when you bathed them or checked them over.

You even ignored that you were beginning to enjoy their presence. You knew it was best not to get attached—soon enough, you’d never see them again.

You stood in the bathroom after bathing the males, using the blow-dryer on Arlo’s hair as he sat on the wooden chair. His eyes were heavy-lidded as he crossed a leg over along with his arms. His tail was low under the towel that covered his lower body, though it twitched slightly when you guided the bristles of the brush through his mane. The leopard almost drifted off to sleep as you worked through his long strands.

Felix, on the other hand, stood off to the side, leaning against the door with his arms crossed.

A towel covered his lower half, but his tail thrashed slightly underneath. His posture was tense as he eyed you.

Suddenly, you felt a strong tug on the back collar of your top, yanking you back with a sharp force that caused you to drop the blow-dryer onto Arlo’s lap and the brush to hit the floor.

A gasp escaped your lips as Felix lifted you up, his claws gripping your thighs and hoisting you onto the sink. He wedged himself between your legs as his head dipped between your neck and shoulder. Your hands reached his shoulders as he caged you in, his towel dangerously low.

“What the fuck?” you questioned, startled by the sudden movement as you leaned back, holding onto him. His nose pressed into the crook of your neck. His breath was warm as he slowly nuzzled your skin, his hands caging you in on either side of your hips.

His tail flicked behind him as his lips barely dragged along the lining of your neck, your body frozen as you stared across the room with wide eyes.

“Felix…” Your voice came out softer than you had wanted it to, a chill crawling up your spine as your nails pierced his skin.

He pulled back, a sharp gaze meeting yours, irritation clear in his expression. His ears were slightly pinned back as his grip on the counter tightened.

“You reek of mutt.”

Your brows furrowed with confusion as you pushed him back further, though he stayed in place.

“What the hell are you doing?”

He ignored you as his head dipped low again, a hand reaching up as he brushed against your jawline.

“Fixing it. You smell filthy,” he said, his voice rough.

Your breath hitched when you felt the moisture of his tongue as the muscle slithered up your neck, essentially grooming you of the scent of another hybrid you had tended to earlier that day.

Arlo set the blow-dryer on the counter as he stood from the seat. “Damn, Felix. You just gonna leave me out?”

You yelped as the older brother's claws snatched your jaw up, forcing you to face the ceiling as his face dipped low from the side, wedging himself between the counter and your thigh.

Heat rushed through your body as your other hand grabbed Arlo’s shoulder in reflex. Despite using your strength to push them away, they were like stone walls.

It was late when you had entered their cage to check their vitals.

The other hybrids had you backed up as you completed all of your assignments the best you could in a timely manner. You approached with careful steps so as to not wake either of the sleeping men.

Once you knelt next to the older male, you reached for his wrist, only to be surprised when an arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you onto the futon.

His warmth pressed against your back as he wrapped his tail lazily around your thigh, his arm holding you in place as he curled against you.

“Arlo!” you whispered sharply, attempting to twist out of his grip.

“Just lay with me for a little bit,” he said, his voice drowsy with sleep as he nuzzled against your neck.

Despite the logical part of your mind screaming at you to leave, you hesitated and figured that staying for a moment longer couldn’t hurt, as long as he fell asleep.

Time passed before you finally heard his breathing even out, allowing you to ease out of his grip.

You ignored the cold of your back from his absence as you kept your head straight toward the exit of the cage.

Three days had passed since you last stepped into their cage. You had switched assignments with another caregiver, distancing yourself from the hybrid brothers in a way that felt both suffocating and necessary. You had allowed a line to be crossed that should've never been breached.

It was going smoothly—or so you thought. You hadn't heard anything from or about them. You forced yourself not to worry about how they were doing or how they felt about your absence.

In the midst of beginning your shift, your boss, who had first introduced you to the hybrid brothers, yanked you to a stop as you walked toward the designated hybrid room for the occupants you had been tending to recently.

“You—,” He exhaled sharply, sweat streaming from his forehead and soaking through his shirt. “Come with me. Now.”

“What?” you questioned, confusion knitting your brows as concern crept in at his antsy behavior.

The man gripped your wrist, dragging you down the familiar path toward the snow leopards’ room. Before you could question him again, he threw the door open and pulled you inside.

Your eyes widened at the display.

Blood was everywhere.

The cage door was locked, yet inside, the floor was slick with crimson.

The scent of torn flesh thickened in the air as your gaze landed on the scattered human remains—entrails and half-eaten limbs strewn across the cage and spilling just beyond the bars onto the wooden floor.

Bile threatened to rise in your throat as you lifted an arm over your mouth, leaning forward slightly before your gaze shifted to the hybrids inside.

Felix sat on the futon with his knees raised, arms draped over them, his head bowed low. Despite his face being hidden, you could tell he was tense by the thrashing of his tail and the way his claws flexed against his arm. The skin visible to you was streaked with blood.

Arlo stood at the bars, forehead resting against the cold metal, his hair partially veiling his face, claws curled around the bars. You caught the glint of his irises through the strands—dark, heavy-lidded, unreadable. His body and face bore the same smears of blood. His tail hung low, his ears flattened against his head.

The middle-aged man shifted nervously beside you. “They won't talk to anyone. They haven't even moved from their spots since we found them hours ago. They bonded with you, didn't they?”

You hesitated before giving a slow nod. Keeping your eyes on the floor, you stepped forward carefully, attempting to avoid the red puddles and strewn remains—though failing the closer you got to the bars.

You made sure not to get too close as you met Arlo’s gaze.

“Why have you been avoiding us?” His voice was calm, his expression stoic and dark as he looked down at you.

“Have you abandoned us?”

The words alone sent a chill up your spine, dread coiling in your stomach at the mess you had created by getting too close to them.

Someone innocent had died because of your mistakes.

The air in the bathroom was thick with steam and tension from the moments before. You carefully scrubbed Felix’s arm, his skin still streaked with traces of blood. Both brothers sat silently in the bathtub, their expressions unreadable and dark. Their wet hair hung over their faces, dripping with water that trickled down their features.

“I... I'm sorry for not staying as professional as I should've,” you said softly, your voice strained with the tension. “And for leaving without saying anything.”

Felix’s jaw tightened, his body barely moving as his fingers curled against the edge of the tub.

His calm expression flickered with irritation. His tone was rough, but controlled. “You don't get it, do you?”

You were caught off guard as his claws snatched your wrist, pulling you forward with your arm stretched out. He leaned closer, eyes boring into yours. “You're an idiot. This is about you leaving us. Abandoning us for other hybrids while we waited for you to come back.”

Your heart started to pound against your chest as you tried to yank your arm out of his painful grip. “You're misunderstanding the situation! You shouldn't be so fucking attached to me. You're gonna be sold today! This isn't appropriate-!”

Arlo’s hand snatched the back of your neck, forcing you to face him. Moisture from the bath water dripped down your skin. “You think we give a fuck about what's appropriate?”

Suddenly, he threw you back, and you landed harshly on the floor. You watched with wide eyes as they stood up from the tub, water streaming down their bodies, their wet ears and tails flicking the moisture off as they took a step forward.

You scooted back gradually as they walked toward you, staring down at you with cold gazes.

“I think you've got this shit all wrong, Y/n.” Felix’s voice was low and predatory as their tails thrashed around, ears flat against their heads.

It was traumatic.

The entire auction house erupted into a bloody massacre. With their claws extended, fangs as sharp as daggers, and bodies bare of any clothing, they mauled and shredded apart all of the employees, audience members, and hybrids that they smelled on you. One by one, the people who had been part of the illegal auction were maimed, killed, and toyed with—entrails and body parts scattered around the room.

Despite their calm demeanor and stoic gazes, a smirk or two here and there, they were feral. You could see it in their eyes—they absolutely enjoyed shredding everyone apart. The carnage lasted for at least an hour, though you hadn't kept track of the time. You were too distracted by the bloodshed playing out in front of you.

You even freed some of the hybrids from their cages in hopes of the innocents escaping.

You recognized the middle-aged man, your boss, in an unrecognizable pile of guts, torn flesh, and blood.

Eventually, the chaos ended. The cries and screams of terror had finally died down.

You sat with your knees drawn to your chest, too paralyzed to escape. You hoped they would finish you off like they had the others, considering the guilt that weighed heavily on you for all of this. Felix and Arlo finally approached you, their faces and torsos streaked with crimson. Their eyes held an eerie calm, but there was a glint of amusement there.

“Y'know, we were gonna do this the day we were captured,” Felix muttered, a smirk curving his lips as he crossed his arms. “But we stayed for you. It was fun while it lasted, playing as strays in a cage and all.”

Tears streamed down your face as you looked up at them. It felt as if the control you had all along had been stolen away from you. All of your emotions burst out in a hysterical outburst, your weeping uncontrollable as you covered your face and bowed your head.

“I-I can't believe this..” you sobbed, your voice shaky.

Arlo’s claws gently, but firmly, pulled your wrist away from your face, forcing you to stand. His bloody thumb smeared crimson against your cheek as he wiped away your tears. “Cry all you want, sweetheart. We're not done with you, yet,” he smirked.

Arlo dragged you with them as they made their way toward the exit, stepping over the corpses of the dead without a second glance. Their smug expressions didn't falter as they moved through the carnage. The air was thick with the stench of death, but it seemed as though they had done this a thousand times before.

As they stepped outside, Felix pulled out a phone from one of the corpses, dialing a number with blood staining the screen.

The phone rang, and you could only watch, too overwhelmed to react, as they spoke to their friend. They were casual, almost as if the massacre hadn't just taken place. The brutality they'd shown was nothing more than a prelude to what they had planned next.

“Done playing pretend?” The voice on the other end spoke with a condescending tone.

“Yeah. Just come pick us up.” Felix’s voice was smooth.

It had been weeks since the incident. You were deemed one of the unidentified victims—nothing but an unrecognizable pile of flesh and guts.

That day still haunted you, the memories of the chaos, screams, torn flesh. The smell of death was the worst of it.

Now, you sat between the two hybrids in the large bathtub. Your back rests against Arlo’s chest, his hands holding your breasts apart as Felix, sitting in front of you with your legs over his raised thighs, slides a wet cloth against the middle of your chest.

"Relax," Arlo breathed as you felt his hard cock press against your lower back. Understanding what he meant, you tilted your head back against his chest, tilting to the side enough for his lips to press against your neck. His fangs nip your skin, causing you to shudder as Felix continues his motion against your skin.

Felix’s hand moved lower, slowly disappearing under the sudsy water as he released the cloth, a sudden pressure of his finger meeting your clit. He leaned forward, lips parted as they pressed against yours in a slow, passionate kiss, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth.

[absentwriterdoll]

There are tools, apparatuses... toasters, exercise equipment, instruments, or computers... I wonder if they can be a doll. Or like, if there would be an experimental witch who would make that happen.

Dolls can exist as anything, I heard. And their features I could peek at from the writings... I can't stop seeing usual inanimate objects the same way anymore.

"A sort of love."

There's a sort of love that exists between an object and its witch.

Plushies that we sleep with, figurines on shelves... A voice recorder used as an mp3 player, a pencil that is named... A phone with cracks running all across its screen...

Keychains that one wears anywhere one goes.

Things that exist in these ones' daily lives that, to most, one wouldn't give a second thought of whether it works or not, or even whether it's present or not.

Except what if they could think and experience just like these ones? What stories would they have to tell? Would one have been gentle to them? Or would their stories speak of cruelty? How hard one worked to try and fix them... Or whether they were replaced the moment they stopped working?

A lightbulb that goes out and never changed...

Until some years later when one finally gets back on their feet.

There's a sort of love there that exists between one and an object.

Sometimes replacements need to happen. Like moving from a deprecated, dying forum on its last legs to a discord server... or perhaps someplace even newer.

Sometimes those replacements are inevitable.

But the memories remain.

Plushies that have been with us for years... Figurines to represent our favorite characters... A damaged voice recorder that still runs if used in a specific way... A pencil whose chrome has rubbed away to brass... A phone whose screen was only ever replaced because the pixels started dying en masse... Keychains that have seen years of someone life...

A refrigerator that finally, at last, stopped working and refused to be fixed... A car that saw new life thanks to a tireless mechanic's ministrations... A book that sees itself read time and again... A hairtie that one bought copies of just in case it ever got lost... A favorite shirt that one wears almost everyday...

A mural of pictures on a wall.

...

The memories remain.

...

And there's a sort of love that exists between someone and their "inanimate" objects.

This one likes to believe that this love makes this world all the better to exist in.

[blauerhund]

Pauls contribution to the Spy Museum Berlin

See: https://rammwiki.net/wiki/Spy_Museum_Berlin_(soundtrack)

I recently visited Berlin and wanted to check out the spy museum Paul did the music for, ze Deutsches Spionagemuseum, which is located at Potsdamer Platz. It's probably the last Rammstein related spot left that I've been wanting to check out in the city and I finally came about doing so in the one day I was there. The last time they unfortunately had a fire alarm going on, so I couldn't go in, but this time I succeeded!

I really ... I can't get myself to be interested in History Museums and the like, I don't know why. Maybe it's because my dad dragged us kids through every single castle, open air farm museum and medieval market South Germany had to offer at the time, resulting in the adverse effect of me, as an adult, feeling like I need to go sit down after having taken five steps into a Natural History Museum. I guess that means I'm satiated. Sometimes I visit art exhibitions though, but even those drain me so much, I just about run through them and am in a bad mood afterward. Have you heard of Museum Fatigue, because that's a real thing! Anyhow, that's why I made it my mission to walk through the spy museum looking only for the music bits playing. I spent about 10€ at the entrance and then walked in through something resembling a personnel sluice.

At first, I thought they had removed the music as I didn't hear any sounds at all for quite some time after going in, apart from some shooting noise coming from the one corner. However, on the second floor I made out a brawarahh and pushed past info screens, a real-life Trabi and spy standees trying to find out where the sound was coming from. I wanted to try recording some of it as well.

The speakers were put up high above, and I stood there looking like a complete nut holding one arm outstretched above my head pointing my phone at the ceiling. Luckily there weren't too many people there, but what does it matter to me, I was on my mission.

Ever since I had first heard about it, I've been wondering how Paul came about doing this. I guess the most likely explanation is him having a friend involved with the spy museum, asking him if he wanted to put a small part in or something similar. I think Paul is someone who would be happy contributing to a culturally significant occasion or institution, if he sees fit. As can be seen on his Instagram, he does like to look at attractions and things alike, and I imagine him being quite enthusiastic about doing so:

https://www.instagram.com/paullanders_official/p/B1gYv3hoByc/?hl=de&img_index=1

Look at the last picture – he has a good time. I think it's often the bunch consisting of him, Olli and Schneider out and about looking at local attractions and exploring the cities they play in. Jens tagging along from time to time :^)

The Spionagemuseum has quite a few things you can get hands on with, like solving small riddles or trying out a lie detector test. Or even making your way through a laser field! I, well, I just looked at it, but I can see Paul getting in there, rolling around on the floor. It's definitely a well produced exhibition!

They also showed footage of spy movies like Jason Bourne, Mission Impossible, James Bond and so on, with music playing next to it and, you know, I'm quite confident that one wasn't done by Herr Paul Landers, but just the original score. Although there is a song in the laser room where I was sure it was a movies soundtrack as well, but on the RammWiki page there is a song called "Laser Room" so it must be from Paul! Only goes to show his versatility :) Correct me in case I'm wrong and it's a film score after all.

At first, I wanted to include my recordings in this post, then I got a bit scared of violating copyright law, so I'm not gonna share them here (unless we have a German law expert on here telling me it would be fine?), but feel free to DM me. It's mostly eerie sounds, plus that one film score-like bit.

I think I feel rebellious enough for a little snippet though, so if you want to have a taste of Pauls soundtrack composer career, have a listen:

[anonymousewrites]

Lavender for Royalty; Sage for Wisdom (Book 1) Chapter Twenty-One

Kyoya Ootori x Reader

Chapter Twenty-One: Oak for Strength

Summary: The Host Club tries to help Kasanoda. It, of course, does not go as planned.

            “A werewolf! Eek!”

            Tamaki sighed as Bossanova’s appearance in the Host Club once again scared guests off. He had tried to make him cute with cat ears and a waiter’s outfit, but Bossanova’s fearsome expression wasn’t to be softened.

            “They ran away again. Despite being the ultimate healing item, even kitten ears failed,” said Tamaki. “How strange. Kitten ears have been a turn-on for guys since antiquity. Everyone knows that. And Renge said quite passionately that they’re popular with girls these days as well.”

            “Doesn’t that limit our range to Otaku only?” said Haruhi. “I mean, if you’re getting information from just Renge…”

            “I don’t know about turn-ons, but kitten ears might not be enough to counter his evil face,” said Kyoya. As soon as he said it, though, the picture of (Y/N) wearing cat ears went through his head. Cute. No way around it—cute.

            “Yeah, Boss is too soft,” said Hikaru.

            “If we’re gonna do this,” said Kaoru.

            “We need to combine kitten ears and a maid costume,” said the twins in tandem.

            “I see. I should have realized that,” said Tamaki, nodding.

            “That’s even more for maniacs!” cried Bossanova. “Are you guys jerking me around?!”

            “He’s mad! He’s scary!” said the twins.

            “I-I’m sorry,” said Bossanova. “You guys came up with so many operations for my benefit this week, but I feel like people are avoiding me even more. I’m just frustrated.”

            “Don’t worry,” said (Y/N). “It’s not your fault this time. The problem is obviously with the weird ideas they’re coming up with.” They chuckled. “I think that answer is simpler than everyone is making it.

            “No…It’s all my fault for not being able to benefit from their kindness,” said Bossanova. “I don’t look good in kitten ears or angel wings.”

            “Most people don’t wear those regularly,” said (Y/N).

            “But I really want to be a lovable person,” declared Bossanova. “Okay! The maid outfit! I’ll wear it.”

            “…” The twins grinned suddenly. Obviously, they had been teasing. But now they really got to have some fun.

l

            “I don’t know what I’m looking at,” said (Y/N). Bossanova had put on the dress, but it was over his uniform, so it was pretty…strange to look at.

            “I doubt we’ll ever have the hosts wear that,” said Kyoya, making a note to himself.

            Knock. “Excuse me.” A blonde boy poked his head in. “Is Master Kasanoda here?” His eyes landed on Bossanova in the maid costume. “M-Master?!”

            “UH?!” Bossanova was mortified, and his face contorted angrily.

            “I-I’m sorry…You’re in the midst of your secret hobby,” said the boy, bowing hastily.

            “What?! This isn’t my hobby!” said Bossanova. “Why did you come here anyway?! Get out!”

            “Please forgive me!” shouted the boy, running out of the room.

            “Bossanova, calm down,” said Haruhi and (Y/N).

            Poor Bossanova put himself in a corner. “I did it again…I hid my embarrassment by lashing out.”

            “Who was that?” said Kyoya.

            “Oh, he’s one of my men, Tetsuya,” said Bossanova. “A year ago he suddenly appearing saying he had to join us no matter what. He’s a hard worker and is always hanging around me, so he’s the one I end up scaring the most.”

            But he still goes to Bossanova. He must actually like him. That’s one more friend than Bossanova realizes he has, thought (Y/N).

            “What a grievous state of affairs,” said Tamaki.

            “I wonder what he came here for…” said Bossanova.

            “Indeed,” said Kyoya, raising a brow.

l

            “Mori is being targeting by the paranormal?!” siad Tamaki the next day.

            Mori nodded, and Honey hugged him.

            “He cut his fingers on glass, someone threw a bucket of water at him, and rotten eggs almost hit him, too!” said Honey.

            “That’s not paranormal,” said (Y/N).

            “And there’s more,” said Hikaru. “A flower pot, an encyclopedia, a VCR, a roof tile…”

            “His tile-chop was awesome,” said Kaoru.

            “Mori, are you alright? That’s awful,” said Tamaki.

            “Anyone but Mori could have been seriously hurt,” said Kyoya.

            “Did you break a Jizo statue or something, Mori?” said Kaoru.

            “Or step on Beelzeneff?” said Hikaru.

            “Is Takashi cursed?” said Honey.

            “Hey! This is no time for fooling around,” said Bossanova. “I saw all the incidents myself, and he’s definitely under attack!”

            “No way,” said the twins, waving their hands. “No one can hate Mori.”

            “How can you be sure—”

            The Hosts (most, at least) ignored him.

            “Would you like me to introduce you to an exorcist?” said Kyoya.

            “An exorcism! An exorcism! Yay!” said Honey.

            “No, send for Nekozawa,” said the twins.

            Bossanova gave up and walked out the door. Haruhi frowned and looked at (Y/N). They nodded, giving her leave to follow him while the others continued chatting.

            “So, shall we follow?” said (Y/N).

            “I can’t believe Bossanova doesn’t realize he’s the one under attack, not Mori,” said Honey, smiling.

            “At least it means we can watch him,” said Tamaki.

            “It’s good that you noticed the glass in his locker and got rid of it before he did, Mori,” said Tamaki.

            “He would’ve fought someone and damaged his reputation more,” said Hikaru and Kaoru.

            Mori nodded. He helped people who deserved it, and Bossanova had.

            “Where’s Haruhi?” said Tamaki.

            “She wanted to talk to Bossanova,” said (Y/N). “I think it will be good for him.”

            “But what about his enemies?” cried Tamaki.

            “We’ll get them,” said Honey, grinning.

l

            “This’ll teach him,” muttered a man, holding up a balloon of paint.

            “Yeah,” agreed a second.

            They threw the paint balloon, and it hit Haruhi instead of Bossanova.

            “Try again,” said one of the men.

            Two long arms swooped down and grabbed them. The men squawked indignantly. “Let go!”

            Mori wasn’t going to.

            “Mori-senpai!” exclaimed Bossanova in surprise.

            “What’s going on?” said Haruhi, looking at (Y/N).

            “We’re just cleaning up some trash,” they said, smiling while Hikaru and Kaoru tied up the troublemakers and Kyoya took a photo.

            “Hey, Kasanoda, you coward!” shouted one man.

            “You kidnapped our boss’s son and then hired a bodyguard!” shouted the second. “You kidnapper! Give our boy back!”

            “What are you talking about?!” said Bossanova, completely blindsided.

            “They were after you the whole time, not Mori,” said (Y/N).

            “We didn’t want to tell you,” said Honey. “You would’ve gotten discouraged! But Takashi found broken glass in your locker yesterday.”

            “Why didn’t you tell me?” Bossanova looked at Mori. “Instead you helped me…?”

            Mori patted Bossanova on the head, and Bossanova’s eyes widened in surprise at the kind gesture.

            “I know a villain when I see one,” said Mori. “Just be yourself. People who understand you are bound to appear. If you care a lot about your friends, they are sure to understand you. You should realize that.”

            Bossanova’s eyes widened at the honest words. But I don’t have anyone like that—

            “I thought I saw some familiar faces.” Tetsuya stepped out of the trees in the courtyard.

            “Master Tetsuya!” said the men.

            “Master Tetsuya,” repeated (Y/N).

            “Ah,” said Kyoya as they made the connection together.

            Tetsuya glared down at the men. “You play dirty because you don’t have the guts for a straight fight! I left because I couldn’t stand people like you. If you try to hurt Master Kasanoda again…I’ll send you to Hell alive!

            “Tetsuya, you…?” Bossanova trailed off.

            “I’m sorry for not telling you,” said Tetsuya. “I’m the second son of the Tokyo branch of the Sendo family. I’m Tetsuya Sendo. I’m drawn to Master’s personality. I’ve already made up my mind to leave the Sendo family and swear loyalty to the Kasanodas. I’ve always been against the Sendos’ unscrupulous policies. On a rainy day about a year ago, I had a fight with my father and left home. I had no place to go, but I couldn’t go back. Then Master came along and covered me with his umbrella, a total stranger…” Tetsuya smiled fondly at the memory.

            “I did that?” said Bossanova, surprised at himself.

            “Yes, you did. Even if you’ve forgotten, I never well.” Tetsuya’s gaze gently at Bossanova. “I know you like animals. You’re a softie for touching stories and dramatic movies. On the guys’ birthdays you secretly send them a cake. On Christmas you leave presents by our bedside

            “You’ve been doing stuff like that, Bossanova?” said the twins.

            “It looks like he was already doing what he needed to in order to show he cared,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “As usual, Tamaki overcomplicated things,” said Kyoya.

            “Yes, but Mori came through when needed most,” said (Y/N).

            “You are shy and clumsy,” said Tetsuya. “I know it, and everyone in the family knows it as well. We can’t say anything because you’d be embarrassed. As for your scary face, sorry, but I’ll try my best to get used to it.”

            Some things are hopeless, thought (Y/N).

            “I take responsibility for their offense,” said Tetsuya, throwing a glare of the thugs of the Sendo family. “But please.” He bowed. “Allow me to stay by your side!” He straightened. “Oh! And here, I didn’t have a chance to give it to you yesterday, but the weather has been bad lately.” He held out an umbrella. “A spare umbrella! Everyone worries if Master catches cold.”

            “Sorry to interrupt such a touching scene, but you commute by car, so you don’t need one,” said Hikaru and Kaoru.

            (Y/N) grabbed them by the collar and dragged them back.

            “Th-That’s right,” said Tetsuya, growing nervous. “I’m sorry.”

            “No!” A heavy blush rested on Bossanova’s cheeks, and he held the umbrella tightly. “Thank you!”

            “Sure!” said Tetsuya, also blushing.

            “All’s well that ends well,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “And Bossanova will cease to bother the Host Club,” said Kyoya, pleased by the development.

            “Oh, I have to apologize to Haruhi,” said Bossanova. “He got covered in paint because of me.”

            “Haruhi is changing clothes,” said Honey helpfully.

            “I’ll go find him. Thanks,” said Bossanova.

            “See you later, Master!” said Tetsuya. “We can play kick the can this afternoon!”

            “Well, we did a good deed,” said Tamaki. “They’ll live happily ever after.”

            “Boss, you didn’t do anything,” said Hikaru and Kaoru.

            “Mori was the hero this time,” said Kyoya. “He even had a speech.”

            (Y/N) tilted their head as they watched Bossanova disappear into the building. “Is he going to interrupt Haruhi changing?”

            “To say he’s thankful for the Host Club,” said Tamaki, still delusional about his involvement.

            “…Haruhi is a girl,” said (Y/N).

            The Host Club froze. Haruhi!

            “Haruhi! We’re coming to save you!” Tamaki took off running, tailed by Hikaru and Kaoru.

            “It’s too late, isn’t it?” said (Y/N), wincing

            Kyoya sighed. “Yes.” Still, there was little to do but follow after everyone to salvage the situation as they could.

            Sure enough, when the Hosts arrived at Music Room 3, it was too late. Bossanova stood outside the door with a shocked look on his face. The door was closed again, but he had seen Haruhi was a girl.

            “So you saw…” said Hikaru and Kaoru, appearing behind Bossanova with dark expressions.

            Tamaki looked like he was spiraling into space, nearly fainting.

            “U-Uh?!” Bossanova wasn’t used to fear, just embarrassment, but he was certainly feeling it now.

            “You saw? How much? You saw Haruhi’s modest body? You creep,” said the twins, advancing on Bossanova.

            “Bossanova…” said Honey. “I think perverts are scum…”

            Bossanova’s jaw dropped open.

            “Now what, Hikaru? He found out Haruhi’s secret,” said Kaoru.

            “We have no choice,” said Hikaru.

            Kaoru grabbed Bossanova, and Hikaru grabbed a bat from nowhere. “We beat the memory out of him!”

            “Cut that out,” said Kyoya. “Covering up a crime would be troublesome.”

            “I think a couple of hits are in order for not knocking before entering where someone is changing,” said (Y/N), crossing their arms.

            Bossanova flinched as Hikaru raised the bat again.

            “No, we have other matters to attend to,” said Kyoya.

            “How can you be so calm?!” said the twins. “You should’ve realized sooner that Haruhi was getting changed.”

            “We all should have,” said Kyoya.

            “Look!” Kaoru pointed at Tamaki. “Due to the shock, the boss is a mere hollow shell of a man! We refused to deal with him when he’s like that!”

            “I don’t want to,” said Kyoya. “But Bossanova found out Haruhi is a girl, so we need to confer. Mr. Kasanoda—”

            So we do know his name and just ignore it, thought (Y/N).

            “—Haruhi is in the special situation of having to hide the fact that she’s a girl,” said Kyoya. “The reason she is in the Host Club is to present herself at a boy.”

            Most of this is kind of true.

            “We don’t have the right to forbid you to tell anyone, but would you be so kind as to consider what would happen should not only the Ootori family but also the families of the other club members become your foes, hm?” said Kyoya. An insidious aura radiated from him despite the smile.

            “Hey.” Haruhi, fully dressed, stepped outside the room. “Stop threatening Casanova.” Bossanova averted his gaze in embarrassment as she approached. “I’m sorry I surprised you, Casanova. I don’t mind if you tell. I’m completely fine with that.”

            An audible crack echoed through the room as Tamaki collapsed in shock.

            (Y/N) sighed. What was going to come next? Would he tell or would he keep her secret?

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[doiliedaze]

Apple of my Eye: part two

Butch farm hand! Abby x Farmer! reader

Warnings: none in this part besides the both of them lying to themselves in the beginning :( especially reader, Owen mention, talks of grief, both of their insecure tendencies of wanting to help each other pop out, talk of being bi and comphet, Abby being a control freak, reader is horrible at reassurance

Genre: fluff, angst

A/n: hey dolls I know I said I was gonna make moodboards but nevermind LMAOOOO It’s hard finding pictures for the masculine counterparts especially Sevika because Pinterest sucks sometimes so yeah! They have an Australian shepherd because I love Bluey so much and all of them have silly little names, so her name is Biscuit!! I also wanted to make note of the bisexual and comphet conversation because I know I have bi dolls here and bisexuality is a valid sexuality and you’re a valid lesbian no matter what that looks like even if you were bisexual in the past! I added it because I’m a femme lesbian who use to identify as bisexual and I was comphet and I didn’t want to erase Owen so I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to introduce those identities struggles.

1

───────┈ · ·

The farm has a new ambiance to it. Abby has brought a new peace I never thought I'd feel here. I mean moving out here was the best thing I could've done, but it hasn't been peaceful truth be told.

Abby is the ultimate gentleman and the perfect person to live with! When I'm sick she takes care of me and when I fall asleep on the porch, she'll either join me or she'd take me to my bed. She even lets me take care of her, which I can tell is a struggle for her. She's all "don't need ya help pumpkin" and "sit down little missy" oh! and my favorite "just relax sugar."

The way she looks at me when she calls me sugar could make me melt! Doesn't matter though because I doubt she sees me that way, no one should anyways.

My thoughts get interrupted as our dog Biscuit jumps onto my lap, knocking my ignored book out my hand in the process. Biscuit is an Australian Shepherd and she is a huge help to the farm!

She’s a needy little thing…just like her mama y’all figure out which one I’m referring to. She plops her weight on me just begging for cuddles and obviously I obliged.

“There’s my girls” Abby states as she makes her way onto the porch. She’s coming back from doing field work and holy shit she’s so fucking fine. Her chest is heaving from her hard work, her pretty face dirty just a little, her usually tight braid has fly aways and her skin is more tanned.

In the midst of my gawking Abby leans into my face, “heard me sugar?” I feel heat run straight through my body. She stands up straight rubbing her big hands, “always zoning out, just asking what you wanted for din-”

“No! I mean I was wondering if we could cook together tonight?”

Her face slowly grows into a smile, “I’d love that.”

We settled on a beef brisket which will take a while so as that slowly cooks we made our sides. Barbecue beans and toast! As I was making the sauce for the beans…giving some to biscuit here and there Abby breaks the silence.

“Y’know I really have enjoyed myself here.” I look at her, “I’ve enjoyed you too, I have never lived with someone outside my family.”

“Really? I was always at a friends place or anywhere but home…” she chuckled softly then cleared her throat.

I want her to open up to me more but I’m not that good at getting her to want to talk to me about that sorta stuff, but I’ve also never directly asked!

“Wanna talk about it?” I say and I can feel my words hanging in the air. I couldn’t bring myself to look at her.

She walks over to me and looks down at me, “why?”

That completely throws me, why else girl? “Because I want to know you better, I want you to be comfortable enough to talk to me…if that’s what you want.”

Her demeanor can change at times. She can be very playful then she can be very guarded and it’s intimidating.

She’s overthinking I can see it in her eyes but she whispers, “I never liked being home, I just didn’t and I regret that after my dad passed.”

My mouth gets dry and a clutch the spoon. Y’know what they say there is no right thing to say when someone mentions a death in their life. What if what I ask her is annoying? What if I come off self centered?

In disbelief I just try to read her body language, does she want me to talk? Does she want a hug?

Her body was stiff but still open to me but her arms are crossed over her chest. “I loved my dad, but I was being a teenager and teenagers hate being around their parents so I just followed the crowd and…now I can’t take that back.”

I bite my lip wanting to hold her or wipe the tears I see building in her eyes. “So when he passed and everything was settled I moved to Seattle…lived with my ex at the time which is another difficult story.”

“You don’t have to get into that if you don’t want to there’s no pressure!” I immediately chip in, wanting to reassure her in some way.

I wipe her tear and her face leans into my hand a little and she mutters a thank you. She closed her eyes and breathed shakily then she just straighten her shoulders and pat mine. “Thank you for listening sugar I needed that.”

“I’m here for you always Abs” I say as I bump her with my hip successfully getting a smile and a flustered expression out of her.

We ate dinner cuddled up on the porch in silence.

The next couple days we’re peaceful but informative! I told her small fun facts like I’ve set a field on fire before by accident to serious things like this time I got cheated on which led to the time she got cheated on.

We both talked about how we were bi and comphet and how sometimes we don’t feel valid in our lesbian identities because we’ve been in relationships with men.

She told me more about this Owen and Mel situation as we were riding our horses to get our animals in their coops when I suggested that I should fly up there and beat there ass when I guess she took that shit serious.

“Sugar wake up” she whispers as she shakes me awake, “Abby leave me alone it’s Saturday!” I whine as I feel her sit me up. “C’mon we’re gonna miss our flight!” My eyes shoot open to that.

“Flight?”

“Flight!” She beams as she moved to get my packed bags, “Abby what the fuck!” I say as I get out the bed.

“Well I was thinking hey I really like this girl maybe she should meet my people and I know her grandpa could watch the farm for a little while so I schedule a little trip to Seattle for us!”

My heart flutters as she talks so effortlessly about liking me…even though she probably means it platonically.

I just go along with it. I know that once her mind is set on something she’s just going to do it.

This whole morning felt like a blur! I woke up, got on a plane and now I’m being introduced to this girl named Nora while I’m jet lagged and in hello kitty pj pants. She’s funny and she’s nice, she’s easier to talk to compared to some of the others.

Nora breaks down the groups dynamic to me and honestly I don’t know how they are friends but it’s not my business.

This is all happening at Mannys house he seems to host everything. Leah was telling me how it’s convenient that Owen and Mel are late and I take that as a mental note.

Abby has kept me close as much as possible, almost as if she’s on edge so I pull her to the side. “You okay?”

She gulps down her water, “yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?” “You made a kinda irresponsible, super spontaneous decision and brought me along and I think it kinda stems back to the ex so…”

She stares at me before saying, “this is so stupid! He’s never seen me like…this.” “Like who you are?” I rub her bicep and her arm tenses so I move away. She rubs her face, “look I just…I’ve never felt so small and he always makes me feel so small! And it’s not just him…Mel and I have had a complicated relationship and for her to be with him…she’s everything I wasn’t and I don’t want to be like that but-”

I hold her hand, and mimic that she needs to breathe because her face is so red. She follows along and clears her throat. “I don’t want to be like that but it still hurts…” “okay well I say maybe you should talk to her. I don’t know if you want to talk to Owen but I think you should talk to Mel and burry the hatchet.”

Before she could respond we heard a collective “oh shit” from inside. Manny comes rushing outside, “Not trying to intrude but to intrude just um brace yourself…”

With that he moves to the side and we see who I assume to be Owen and Mel with a baby bump. I immediately look up at Abby and see her face a hue of green. Her larger hand is crushing mine but I endure it because she needs it.

The air in the room was so heavy. I guess the others didn’t know she is pregnant. She doesn’t look that far along.

Owen takes a step forward to introduce himself but Abby takes me through the back and to the car. “Okay wait!” I say as I hold onto the car door before she opens it. Her face was a mixture of disgust and anger and confusion.

“Abby listen that is a lot but it doesn’t matter!” She scrunched her face up at me, “it matters but it doesn’t? I feel like if you just talk to them…I mean they are a couple right? You don’t want either of them so let that hurt go…”

She let go of me and leaned on the car and the rain started to drizzle down. She just stood there and cried and I feel like I can’t do nothing about it! I mean what do you say, what do you do! This is such a difficult situation. She doesn’t like him anymore she doesn’t like men anymore in general, but at the end of the day that was her first love! Mel was her well I don’t think she was her friend but she’s envious of her in a way and never got the closure of letting it go she just keeps leaving. Oh…

I inch closer to her and wrap myself around her. The rain started to pour down on us but I didn’t care. She needed to be held, to be cared for, to know she’s a butch that’s loved.

Her body was shaking and I nuzzle my head against her back. To lighten the mood I say, “my hair smells like smoke can we go somewhere dry?” And she laughs a little, “I’m sorry” she touches my now messed up press out.

We get in the car and she looks at me, “I’m so sorry for everything. I made you go to Seattle, meet all these people, fuck up your hair and…I just wasn’t considerate of you.”

“I appreciate your apology because this whole situation has been a lot but I’m here for your, I’m your girl.”

“You are my girl” she smiles, before I could respond Mel knocks on her window and mouths can we talk.

“I could just drive off…” “Abigail!”

She sighs and unlocks the back door, “no I’ll leave, I don’t have to hear this.” Mel gets in the passenger seat and I exit the car and go to Manny’s stoop where everyone else is.

Owen approaches me and I can tell he’s sizing me up. He extends his hands and I stare at it then look away. He scoffs and stands to the side and talks to Jordan’s bitch ass.

To be honest Abby needs a whole new friend group besides Nora but she has enough on her plate.

Eventually Abby and Mel emerge they seem more calm around each other but there’s work to be done. We say our goodbyes and go to our hotel.

“So this trip got cut short!” I say as I fix my hair and she steps into the shower. “We could spend some time here then go somewhere else…”

“Where?” I hum as I slowly pass the flat iron to through my hair.

“Atlanta!”

“Atlanta?”

───────┈ · ·

A/n: I’ve been approaching this like it’s a romcom and I feel like it shows lol, I hope y’all enjoyed!!

Taglist: @manfuckthisimout @bambishaven @femme-historian @furrytaesss @milanyas @highnfemme

Dividers- @dollywons

[petercapaldi-press]

INTERVIEW

Interview: How 1980s Glasgow inspired Peter Capaldi's debut album

3rd November 2021

Paul Trainer Best of Scotland magazine

I WANT to ask Peter Capaldi about his debut album but first he wants to know what the weather is like in Glasgow. He’s planning a trip up for a few days and we spend a moment discussing sensible clothing to pack.

An instantly recognisable actor, there’s not much time spent in pubs these days while he is here but he does like to have a wander around. “I like going around the old parts of the city, where Glasgow emerges, then I will often find myself up around the art school,” he explains.

One crisp December evening a few years ago I was charging through shoppers on Buchanan Street when I was suddenly confronted by the elongated figure and tousled locks of Capaldi as he took a photograph of the police box that sits outside of The Ivy restaurant in the city centre. I relate this momentary, unexpected encounter to him, describing the blue box as “his old office”, an oblique reference to the TARDIS, and his role as the twelfth incarnation of Doctor Who.

He breaks into a cackle, then volunteers: “Sometimes I pass those – Glasgow’s one of the few places with police boxes – so if I see one I send a picture on to a friend of mine who is also in the same mode, shall we say,” giving an intriguing hint at a Time Lord WhatsApp group.

For some people, Capaldi will always be Malcolm Tucker in The Thick Of It – a bombastic performance characterised by a hail of Scottish invective, creating a political satire monolith that continues to cast a shadow nine years after the show went off air. Being cast in Bill Forsyth’s Local Hero in 1983 was a breakthrough. Ten years later he would win an Oscar for Best Live Action Short Film as writer and director of a film about Franz Kafka that starred Richard E Grant. Then there was a memorable turn as Uncle Rory, a significant but infrequent presence in the television adaptation of The Crow Road. More recently, he starred as The Thinker in James Gunn’s The Suicide Squad. There’s a lot in the back-catalogue.

Before all that Peter started his performing career in music. While studying at The Glasgow School of Art, he put together a band, The Dreamboys, (future comedian Craig Ferguson was the drummer) and enjoyed a small part of the thriving music scene in the city at the time.

While his life went down a different road, he retains his love of music and has recorded a 10-track release called St Christopher. His relationship with music is more to do with storytelling and creating something new. “I’m not that guy who brings a guitar along to every party,” he says.

The story of the album started with an invitation from a friend, Robert Howard, the Scottish singer of The Blow Monkeys, to come along to a few recording sessions at his studio.

“Robert, who’s great and a wonderful musician, does this thing called the Monks Road Social, which is a conglomerate of musicians who put out an album every year, and they’re just happenings. I’d be encouraged to vaguely join in.” At one of these get-togethers Peter was asked if he had anything to record.

“I quickly put together a song, which they recorded in the space of a day, and it was so much fun. I thought: ‘Oh, I really want to do this again.’

“Over a period eight or nine months, I did that. I wrote stuff and sent it to Robert and we would ditch certain ones, and on then other ones he’d say: ‘Let’s hang onto that.’ ”

Did that first song that he wrote make it onto the album? “That was song called If I could Pray, which was released as a single to no acclaim last year. It got about two plays on the radio. That’s showbiz.”

When Peter was in Atlanta in the US to shoot The Suicide Squad he found he had time on his hands. He travelled to Nashville and started writing new songs. A band was assembled and a studio booked in London. Then lockdown intervened. They persevered.

“We just sent it back and forth over the digital ether and then sent it to the percussionist or some other musician who would add something wonderful to it. Because we had the option to do it, we thought: ‘Let’s just put this out and in a very low-key way, just start doing music.’ ”

There’s a lot of Glasgow in this record: echoes of Scotland set against a canvas of Americana guitar and retro synths. “I kept going back to a Glaswegian art school ‘80s vibe,” Peter says.

“The city itself, how it has such a power about it. Glasgow is a wonderful, noirish, synthy setting for things. Robert is very different and his musical experiences takes it in another direction occasionally, which is interesting.”

The American elements enter via those Nashville trips. “When I went there it felt like the spiritual home of any Glaswegian. You feel so at home, the music is elemental and we’ve been fed it already.

“The melodrama and the sadness and the darkness and the joy that’s very present in country music: the west of Scotland is a cauldron of that stuff and we reach for it all the time.

“There’s always a wish among Glaswegian musicians to mythologise the place in music and I think I’m trying to do that as well.”

Peter is open to the idea of taking some of the songs out onto a stage but there’s no tour planned. “Maybe a theatre piece, I don’t know”. He won’t be signing up for a musical. “This isn’t a new career or anything. This is an exploration of my own interest, an expression of who I am, being a performer and an actor and a director. That inevitably leads me to conjure up things, I think, as opposed to making hit singles.”

There’s already one Capaldi in that game. “He’s fantastic and I’m so knocked out by Lewis and I’m so proud of him and he’s just incredible. This is not an attempt to be a pop star.”

If this record, then, picks up where he left off in music, revisiting a time and place, what does he remember of his art school days?

“That was a golden period. In the sense that the government did pay for kids to go into further education and it was an ideology that was respected and it allowed so many of us who came from humble backgrounds to come into these various professions because we were allowed to go and explore.

“Art school was a great melting pot of ideas. There was just a general ethos that you could do anything in that building off the top of the hill there and that you were part of the city. It was the late 70s moving into the 1980s.

“We’d hang out in Nico’s, the first place you could buy a cappuccino or go to The Griffin pub opposite The King’s Theatre. Maestro’s was a nightclub we all use to end up and there was always some piece of nonsense being planned there. We’d do gigs that were not organised or you’d be asked to join other bands to play.

“When we arrived at the art school, we were all dressed as Neil Young with long hair and great coats. Then in the summer the punk thing happened. So we all came back with plastic trousers and peroxide hair. It was very open to all the ideas in the zeitgeist. I didn’t realise it at the time, but it was the perfect place to be.”

St Christopher by Peter Capaldi is released by Monks Road Records on November 19. 

This interview was featured in Best of Scotland magazine, published monthly in The Herald on Sunday and Sunday National newspapers. You can read the November edition here. 

[sergeantsnowy]

Cold & Freeze

I see a lot of people say that Captain Cold is a copy/clone of Mr. Freeze, and while Captain Cold may be less known and beloved than Mr. Freeze, they are quite different characters. One of the few things they have in common is that they are both men who use ice to fight their respective superheroes.

My focus is to highlight the uniqueness of Captain Cold as a character, showcase the similarities they do have, and give a brief overview of their few interactions in media. Let’s break it down further below.

1. Which Came First: The Cold or The Freeze?

Captain Cold came first—so this immediately disputes every comment that says he is a copy of Mr. Freeze. As pictured above, I see this type of thing being said all the time. While it’s sad to see two wonderful characters being pinned against each other like this, it’s also a plain lie. Mr. Freeze (originally called Mr. Zero) made his first appearance in 1959, while Captain Cold debuted in 1957.

2. Backstories

Both of their backgrounds as characters are distinctive, with little to no overlap.

The story behind the Mr. Freeze that we know today didn’t come to be until 1992. The episode “Heart of Ice” from Batman: The Animated Series gave Freeze his tragic story with his wife, Nora. Working as a cryogenics scientist at GothCorp, he placed Nora in a cryogenic stasis machine after she got diagnosed with a terminal illness. His devastation quickly turned to determination, and he worked on finding a cure for his wife by using unauthorized funds from the company. Boyle, GothCorp’s CEO, demanded the experiments be ceased immediately despite the fact that it would end Nora’s life. A fight ensued, in which Freeze was pushed into cryonic chemicals and left unable to exist outside of sub-zero temperatures, having to wear a battle armored cyro-suit at all times.

Cold grew up as self-proclaimed “trailer trash.” His father was a cop who got injured and put on disability, while his mother is written as having died or abandoned the family due to his father’s violent and constant abuse. The only source of safety for Cold and his younger sister, Lisa, was their grandfather. An ice deliverer. His work truck, though chilly inside, became a refuge for the siblings. Cold was still young when his grandfather died, and in his late teen he left home, seeking to get away from the cruelty of his father. But he craved money and stability, so he fell into a life of petty crime before stealing the Cold Gun and becoming the Captain we know today.

3. Motivations

This is a big one for me. Their motives and goals as characters are entirely different.

Because of his terminally-ill wife, Freeze’s interests primarily lie in cryonics, and his goals are centered around saving her life. He is trying to find a cure for her, no matter the cost, no matter who else is hurt. In most cases, he actively wants to hurt those that have hurt Nora and himself. This creates his secondary motivation of revenge. For the most part, Freeze is portrayed as working alone and rarely forms alliances with other criminals. Instead, everything in Freeze’s life centers around Nora. Though ill-fated, his story is one of love.

Captain Cold’s motivations are far different than Freeze’s. They can be boiled down to getting rich, though he can also be revenge-focused. The reason he steals stems from life he’s had, which has never given him anything. It’s only beaten him down, just like his father has. Cold steals because he wants—almost needs—to live on his terms and feel in control of his life. And since the world won’t give him what he needs, he’ll just take it to support himself. He is almost always seen on a team, whether it be the Rogues, Legion of Doom, or Suicide Squad. With the Rogues in particular, the connection shared goes far deeper than simple teamwork and partnership, like it is in Freeze’s case. It’s family.

It could be argued that, in the New 52, these stories grow in similarity when Lisa (now Golden Glider) falls into a temporary coma. But, even then, Cold’s motivations in regard to this are on keeping her safe and helping her wake up, and not on finding a cure through his own research or ability.

4. Weapons of Zero

The Cold Gun and the Freeze Gun, in essence, are very similar. The biggest difference is that Freeze—who, as established, is primarily focused on cryonics—uses sub-zero weapons and Cold uses absolute zero and below.

But don’t take my word for it! Take Freeze’s.

Cold also has his own comments to add on the subject.

Cold’s gun freezes things on a molecular level, basically stopping/slowing time down, and it can also emit a cold field (which acts as a force field of cold air). Freeze’s gun is more chemically focused because it is made from stolen and repurposed medical equipment, and it often includes a freeze gas.

Similarities:

- Cold and Freeze each have a taste for revenge against those who have wronged them or the people they love, even if they have different primary goals.

- They both use being cold and aloof as a mechanism against pain and their own emotions. However, Freeze feels far more clinically detached from humanity than Cold is ever portrayed as feeling. Freeze is also more academically intelligent, while Cold is more strategic & street smart

Interactions:

Captain Cold and Mr. Freeze have been teamed together with other ice villains. Called the Ice Pack in a Super Friends comic, ice villain team ups including both Cold and Freeze have also appeared in Young Justice (2010), Superman/Batman: Public Enemies, Justice League Adventures #12, and Salvation Run. Cold and Freeze team up with just each other in Batman: Urban Legends #17, but Cold switches sides and eventually helps save Gotham city from Freeze’s plan.

In Flashpoint, Citizen Cold (who, in this universe, is a “hero” that fights against rogues and villains) kills Mr. Freeze. There is a quote from this run that isn’t seen in the panel below, where Cold thinks: “Freeze is a fool. He leads with his heart. I lead with my guns.” Though Flashpoint is a different timeline, this is still another example of how these two characters are different in action and mindset.

In DC Universe Online, Cold has a quote where he says, “No, I’m not Mr. Freeze.”

On DC’s website, the official character bio of Captain Cold says, “But whatever you do, don’t confuse him [Cold] with Batman baddie Mr. Freeze. He really hates that.”

Though they can fight against each other in Injustice 2, there are no interactions of particular note, unfortunately.

In my personal opinion, I think, despite Cold’s grouchy possessiveness of the ice gimmick, there’s a bit of mutual respect! Maybe begrudgingly so. Do I think they’d ever be friends? No. Is it fun to think about anyway? Yes.

[starguardianniom]

Season 6 reveal?

Will probably happen since Monarch is gone, right Marinette?

Cause I can just imagine Chat Noir asking Ladybug who was Monarch before they reveal themselves, and Ladybug explains to him in great details that he was Gabriel Agreste and how he was dying and wanted to resurect his wife and stuff.

Meanwhile Chat Noir looks like this:

Cue Lila/Cerise/Iris/Chrysalis first akuma coming and him being her first minion.

Meanwhile Ladybug:

[ayakashibackstreet]

Listening to a video game talk in the background of my work and like... were smartphones already so big in 2013? As in, widely adopted to the point of high schoolers bringing them to school? Was that an America/Western Europe thing? I know I have memory issues and 2013 just so happens to be the time that I have trouble remembering but... really? 2013? Was that a thing? Maybe it was and I just can't recall? Uhhh?

I know me not having a smartphone in like 2015 was weird, to the point where I was the 'retro tech' guy back near the end of middle school but... uh. I'm a little confused.

[whatudottu]

Something that I have been secretly obsessing over for forever is the idea of a Ben 10 (or general Omnitrix wielder) that goes full superhero and goes and designs secret identities for EVERY transformation, seeing as how though perhaps the wielder themself is from a human perspective disguised behind the face of an alien, well- fairly certain that transformations have their own degree of recognisability themselves-

Find out more in the cut below-

I mean, from the perspective of a human Omnitrix wielder like Ben or many other characters from canon to original may focus on the visual aspect of recognition, so maybe species with more than one recognisable feature or a completely different set of recognition (vulpimancers may recognise scent and perhaps sound, pyronites may recognise - among sight - heat signature or temperature) are kinda looked over without actually putting their all into studying ‘what makes me recognisable’, but like- in all honesty this is just me rambling about what human masks would fit the Omnitrix translation to certain alien transformations without proving detrimental to any of their abilities.

What kind of mask would a lepidopterran wear, one that conserves confidentiality without detracting from mouth-based protectiles, what about piscciss volann with their biting? What about a mask with a beaded mouth covering, perhaps one with antennae (or lures) of it’s own? What kind of mask that a human can wear be safely used on a pyronite? Give em a flame retardant gas mask, one maybe with an open back just to maintain the flame headed aesthetic.

Can you even mask every transformation? Beyond the Omnitrix sample of arburian pelarota being the very few examples of the newly practically if not extinct species, can you mask a face that rests on the main body? Is recognition of Arburia dictacted in fact by the face of a pelarota or is it determined by shell and (apparently they have hair) fur patterns?

Well, perhaps in that case a superhero outfit is best for the situation!

What superhero mask doesn’t come it with it’s own superhero costume? Well perhaps you could outfit your arburian pelarota transformation with a cloth ‘mask’ that physically acts as the shirt, they do after all have ‘eyeless vision’, all in due part according to their sensory fur (how do you think they see when rolling rolling?). Why not pair our pyronite mask with a firefighter coat, make them seem like a heroic rescuer rather than a TF2 Pyro main, the chunkier and more Fire Force it looks the better. And what about another member or a near extinct species petrosapiens sporting layers of sound absorbing clothing, worn with perhaps a full head mask that also helps insulate from sound as a defense whilst keeping up an optimal level of anonymity.

Masks with bells, give them to aliens that recognise with sound. Masks with real flowers, give them to aliens that recognise with scent. Put a mask in the fridge or let it sit in the sun, give it to an alien that recognises temperature.

What degree does body shape affect alien recognition, how different do you want to make the body look, how does your superhero outfit work to perhaps benefit your transformation.

How do you mask an opticoid? Give them a lacy mask/shirt, they don’t give a shit about chest nudity! How do you costume a gourmand? Give them a jacket they can zip right open, maybe just straight up sleeves with extra material that MIMICS a jacket! How about a loboan? Give them a long-nosed eye mask, it doesn’t need to cover the mouth so long as it covers the top of the snout!

Ough I love masks so much-

[felsartdump]

"There are ways for us to be in balance with nature, and that our environmentalism should respect that and push for sustainability over preserving “pristine” human-less landscapes."

You know what the most frustrating thing about the vegans throwing a fit over my “Humans aren’t Parasites” post is?  I really wasn’t trying to make a point about animal agriculture. Honestly, the example about subsistence hunting isn’t the main point. That post was actually inspired by thoughts I’ve been having about the National Park system and environmentalist groups.

See, I LOVE the National Parks. I always have a pass. I got to multiple parks a year. I LOVE them, and always viewed them as this unambiguously GOOD thing. Like, the best thing America has done. 

BUT, I just finished reading this book called “I am the Grand Canyon” all about the native Havasupai people and their fight to gain back their rights to the lands above the canyon rim. Historically, they spent the summer months farming in the canyon, and then the winter months hunter-gathering up above the rim. When their reservation was made though, they lost basically all rights to the rim land (They had limited grazing rights to some of it, but it was renewed year to year and always threatened, and it was a whole thing), leading to a century long fight to get it back. 

And in that book there are a couple of really poignant anecdotes- one man talks about how park rangers would come harass them if they tried to collect pinon nuts too close to park land- worried that they would take too many pinon nuts that the squirrels wanted. Despite the fact that the Havasupai had harvested pinon nuts for thousands and thousands of years without ever…like…starving the squirrels. 

There’s another anecdote of them seeing the park rangers hauling away the bodies of dozens of deer- killed in the park because of overpopulation- while the Havasupai had been banned from hunting. (Making them more and more reliant on government aid just to survive the winter months.) 

They talk about how they would traditionally carve out these natural cisterns above the rim to catch rainwater, and how all the animals benefitted from this, but it was difficult to maintain those cisterns when their “ownership” of the land was so disputed. 

So here you have examples of when people are forcibly separated from their ecosystem and how it hurts both those people and the ecosystem. 

And then when the Havasupai finally got legislation before Congress to give them ownership of the rim land back- their biggest opponent was the Parks system and the Sierra Club. The Sierra Club (a big conservation group here in the US) ran a huge smear campaign against these people on the belief that any humans owning this land other than the park system (which aims at conservation, even while developing for recreation) was unacceptable. 

And it all got me thinking about how, as much as I love the National Parks, there are times when its insistence that nature be left “untouched” (except, ya know, for recreation) can actually harm both the native people who have traditionally been part of those ecosystems AND potentially the ecosystems themselves. And I just think there’s a lot of nuance there about recognizing that there are ways for us to be in balance with nature, and that our environmentalism should respect that and push for sustainability over preserving “pristine” human-less landscapes. Removing ourselves from nature isn’t the answer. 

But apparently the idea that subsistence hunting might actually not be a moral catastrophe really set the vegans off.  Woopie. 

[tinsnip]

"In recent years, there has been a rush on the internet to supply image descriptions and to call out those who don’t. This may be an example of community accountability at work, but it’s striking to observe that those doing the most fierce calling out or correcting are sighted people. Such efforts are largely self-defeating. I cannot count the times I’ve stopped reading a video transcript because it started with a dense word picture. Even if a description is short and well done, I often wish there were no description at all. Get to the point, already! How ironic that striving after access can actually create a barrier. When I pointed this out during one of my seminars, a participant made us all laugh by doing a parody: “Mary is wearing a green, blue, and red striped shirt; every fourth stripe also has a purple dot the size of a pea in it, and there are forty-seven stripes—”

“You’re killing me,” I said. “I can’t take any more of that!”

Now serious, she said it was clear to her that none of that stuff about Mary’s clothes mattered, at least if her clothes weren’t the point. What mattered most about the image was that Mary was holding her diploma and smiling. “But,” she wondered, “do I say, Mary has a huge smile on her face as she shows her diploma or Mary has an exuberant smile or showing her teeth in a smile and her eyes are crinkled at the edges?”

It’s simple. Mary has a huge smile on her face is the best one. It’s the don’t-second-guess-yourself option."

--Against Access, by John Lee Clark, a DeafBlind educator

[sophiemuffin]

I drew all the Life Series Winners

Originally these paintings started out as distraction from school work and I also wanted to get better at cinematic composition and gradient mapping. I never imagined that this would turn into a several months long project but here we are!

I think tumblr is the one place where it’s acceptable to make a really long post just talking about the little details I hid in these pictures:

First of all everyone is looking in a very specific direction (until Joel came along but he is special let him be).

Pearl is looking at the camera, she is the only one who is aware of the viewer (you) while Cleo isn’t looking at us at all because she couldn’t actually “see” with the VR on their head. Also Cleo is surrounded by a cemetery of her previous alliances.

Technically Scott and Martyn are are looking up and down. Martyin is sinking into the sea with the hourglass in his hands, while Scott is touching the stars.

Grian and Scar who are both looking at each other technically. I also intentionally used colorschemes that were similar to one another. Oh yeah, and two certain flowers are also present…I wonder what those stand for!

And well Joel is just there currently but his has to be my favourite, color, composition and storytelling wise too. I was giggling to myself while drawing and just had the best time ever and it seems like the majority of you agree that his turned out great!

That’s all thank you for reading my yapping, I need to let this out somewhere ugshsh

[insertdisc5]

🎮 HEY I WANNA MAKE A GAME! 🎮

Yeah I getcha. I was once like you. Pure and naive. Great news. I AM STILL PURE AND NAIVE, GAME DEV IS FUN! But where to start?

To start, here are a couple of entry level softwares you can use! source: I just made a game called In Stars and Time and people are asking me how to start making vidy gaems. Now, without further ado:

SOFTWARES AND ENGINES FOR PEOPLE WHO DON'T KNOW HOW TO CODE!!!

Ren'py (and also a link to it if you click here do it): THE visual novel software. Comic artists, look no further ✨Pros: It's free! It's simple! It has great documentation! It has a bunch of plugins and UI stuff and assets for you to buy! It can be used even if you have LITERALLY no programming experience! (You'll just need to read the doc a bunch) You can also port your game to a BUNCH of consoles! ✨Cons: None really <3 Some games to look at: Doki Doki Literature Club, Bad End Theater, Butterfly Soup

Twine: Great for text-based games! GREAT FOR WRITERS WHO DONT WANNA DRAW!!!!!!!!! (but you can draw if you want) ✨Pros: It's free! It's simple! It's versatile! It has great documentation! It can be used even if you have LITERALLY no programming experience! (You'll just need to read the doc a bunch) ✨Cons: You can add pictures, but it's a pain. Some games to look at: The Uncle Who Works For Nintendo, Queers In love At The End of The World, Escape Velocity

Bitsy: Little topdown games! ✨Pros: It's free! It's simple! It's (somewhat) intuitive! It has great documentation! It can be used even if you have LITERALLY no programming experience! You can make everything in it, from text to sprites to code! Those games sure are small! ✨Cons: Those games sure are small. This is to make THE simplest game. Barely any animation for your sprites, can barely fit a line of text in there. But honestly, the restrictions are refreshing! Some games to look at: honestly I haven't played that many bitsy games because i am a fake gamer. The picture above is from Under A Star Called Sun though and that looks so pretty

RPGMaker: To make RPGs! LIKE ME!!!!! NOTE: I recommend getting the latest version if you can, but all have their pros and cons. You can get a better idea by looking at this post. ✨Pros: Literally everything you need to make an RPG. Has a tutorial inside the software itself that will teach you the basics. Pretty simple to understand, even if you have no coding experience! Also I made a post helping you out with RPGMaker right here! ✨Cons: Some stuff can be hard to figure out. Also, the latest version is expensive. Get it on sale! Some games to look at: Yume Nikki, Hylics, In Stars and Time (hehe. I made it)

engine.lol: collage worlds! it is relatively new so I don't know much about it, but it seems fascinating. picture is from Garden! NOTE: There's a bunch of smaller engines to find out there. Just yesterday I found out there's an Idle Game Maker made by the Cookie Clicker creator. Isn't life wonderful?

✨more advice under the cut. this is Long ok✨

ENGINES I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT AND THEY SEEM HARD BUT ALSO GIVE IT A TRY I GUESS!!!! :

Unity and Unreal: I don't know anything about those! That looks hard to learn! But indie devs use them! It seems expensive! Follow your dreams though! Don't ask me how!

GameMaker: Wuh I just don't know anything about it either! I just know it's now free if your game is non-commercial (aka, you're not selling it), and Undertale was made on it! It seems good! You probably need some coding experience though!!!

Godot: Man I know even less about this one. Heard good things though!

BUNCHA RANDOM ADVICE!!!!

-Make something small first! Try making simple: a character is in a room, and exits the room. The character can look around, decide to take an item with them, can leave, and maybe the door is locked and you have to find the key. Figuring out how to code something like that, whether it is as a fully text-based game or as an RPGMaker map, should be a good start to figure out how your software of choice works!

-After that, if you have an idea, try first to make the simplest version of that idea. For my timeloop RPG, my simplest version was two rooms: first room you can walk in, second room with the King, where a cutscene automatically plays and the battle starts, you immediately die, and loop back to the first room, with the text from this point on reflecting this change. I think I also added a loop counter. This helped me figure out the most important thing: Can This Game Be Made? After that, the rest is just fun stuff. So if you want to make a dating sim, try and figure out how to add choices, and how to have affection points go up and down depending on your choices! If you want to make a platformer, figure out how to make your character move and jump and how to create a simple level! If you just want to make a kinetic visual novel with no choices, figure out how to add text, and how to add portraits! You'll be surprised at how powerful you'll feel after having figured even those simple things out.

-If you have a programming problem or just get confused, never underestimate the power of asking Google! You most likely won't be the only person asking this question, and you will learn some useful tips! If you are powerful enough, you can even… Ask people??? On forums??? Not me though.

-Yeah I know you probably want to make Your Big Idea RIGHT NOW but please. Make a smaller prototype first. You need to get that experience. Trust me.

-If you are not a womanthing of many skills like me, you might realize you need help. Maybe you need an artist, or a programmer. So! Game jams on itch.io are a great way to get to work and meet other game devs that have different strengths! Or ask around! Maybe your artist friend secretly always wanted to draw for a game. Ask! Collaborate! Have fun!!!

I hope that was useful! If it was. Maybe. You'd like to buy me a coffee. Or maybe you could check out my comics and games. Or just my new critically acclaimed game In Stars and Time. If you want. Ok bye