#fun fact this was a wip for a long time and i first made it when i got back into the fandom :)

[autisticakaashitruther]

9.10🍊🫐💕

[sallymew4]

hi guys

(forever) wips below are: scene redraw (that i actually started on way before posting mobsai here. crazy !), and teru in an outfit i saw at the mall once (denim dress. dress made of NOTHING but denim. it caught me off-guard but i think i was just being too harsh <3 he was going to wear those galaxy leggings all middle schoolers wear with it as well)

originally this post was just gonna be me posting pretty old wips that i never finished cuz ive been sick (i actually feel way better now tho) and lazy but then i started perusing some more of my older mobsai doodles and unfinished arts and decided to post those alongside the ones above :) i just think its fun to see how my art has developed grown and changed over a period of time, especially with the designs of these characters

if ur interested in lookin at suma those vv

thunder claps welcome

reminder and warning that a lot of these were me still kind of figuring out how to draw them so they will NOT be beautiful picasso

i think this was the first digital mob i ever drew..... he was born august of last year..wow

i was incredibly weak for father reigen if you couldn't tell [sarcasm]

i also didnt know how his suit worked. lol

soryr i was mean 2o u serizwaw sir. anwyays

various ritus (ft teru) vv i made him very hateful because i thought it was funny

v v supa unfinished (obviously) pre-mob teru stuff, just hanging out by roof railing

and then there was a looot of what might be my favorite genre of these, which were just goofy little scribbles

that last one i made in the middle of watching the last episode. i promptly teared up in the bathroom after finishing it

anyways thats pretty much it, for digital anyways :) i like looking back on art, cuz then im like "oh wow, improvement IS real" (i always forget). ill try drawin some moar stuff 4or yalls, i already gots sumthn in the works. oka bye thank you for looking !!11!

[bookishdiplodocus]

The Neurodivergent Writer’s Guide to Fun and Productivity

(Even when life beats you down)

Look, I’m a mom, I have ADHD, I’m a spoonie. To say that I don’t have heaps of energy to spare and I struggle with consistency is an understatement. For years, I tried to write consistently, but I couldn’t manage to keep up with habits I built and deadlines I set.

So fuck neurodivergent guides on building habits, fuck “eat the frog first”, fuck “it’s all in the grind”, and fuck “you just need time management”—here is how I manage to write often and a lot.

Focus on having fun, not on the outcome

This was the groundwork I had to lay before I could even start my streak. At an online writing conference, someone said: “If you push yourself and meet your goals, and you publish your book, but you haven’t enjoyed the process… What’s the point?” and hoo boy, that question hit me like a truck.

I was so caught up in the narrative of “You’ve got to show up for what’s important” and “Push through if you really want to get it done”. For a few years, I used to read all these productivity books about grinding your way to success, and along the way I started using the same language as they did. And I notice a lot of you do so, too.

But your brain doesn’t like to grind. No-one’s brain does, and especially no neurodivergent brain. If having to write gives you stress or if you put pressure on yourself for not writing (enough), your brain’s going to say: “Huh. Writing gives us stress, we’re going to try to avoid it in the future.”

So before I could even try to write regularly, I needed to teach my brain once again that writing is fun. I switched from countable goals like words or time to non-countable goals like “fun” and “flow”.

Rewire my brain: writing is fun and I’m good at it

I used everything I knew about neuroscience, psychology, and social sciences. These are some of the things I did before and during a writing session. Usually not all at once, and after a while I didn’t need these strategies anymore, although I sometimes go back to them when necessary.

I journalled all the negative thoughts I had around writing and try to reason them away, using arguments I knew in my heart were true. (The last part is the crux.) Imagine being supportive to a writer friend with crippling insecurities, only the friend is you.

Not setting any goals didn’t work for me—I still nurtured unwanted expectations. So I did set goals, but made them non-countable, like “have fun”, “get in the flow”, or “write”. Did I write? Yes. Success! Your brain doesn’t actually care about how high the goal is, it cares about meeting whatever goal you set.

I didn’t even track how many words I wrote. Not relevant.

I set an alarm for a short time (like 10 minutes) and forbade myself to exceed that time. The idea was that if I write until I run out of mojo, my brain learns that writing drains the mojo. If I write for 10 minutes and have fun, my brain learns that writing is fun and wants to do it again.

Reinforce the fact that writing makes you happy by rewarding your brain immediately afterwards. You know what works best for you: a walk, a golden sticker, chocolate, cuddle your dog, whatever makes you happy.

I conditioned myself to associate writing with specific stimuli: that album, that smell, that tea, that place. Any stimulus can work, so pick one you like. I consciously chose several stimuli so I could switch them up, and the conditioning stays active as long as I don’t muddle it with other associations.

Use a ritual to signal to your brain that Writing Time is about to begin to get into the zone easier and faster. I guess this is a kind of conditioning as well? Meditation, music, lighting a candle… Pick your stimulus and stick with it.

Specifically for rewiring my brain, I started a new WIP that had no emotional connotations attached to it, nor any pressure to get finished or, heaven forbid, meet quality norms. I don’t think these techniques above would have worked as well if I had applied them on writing my novel.

It wasn’t until I could confidently say I enjoyed writing again, that I could start building up a consistent habit. No more pushing myself.

I lowered my definition for success

When I say that nowadays I write every day, that’s literally it. I don’t set out to write 1,000 or 500 or 10 words every day (tried it, failed to keep up with it every time)—the only marker for success when it comes to my streak is to write at least one word, even on the days when my brain goes “naaahhh”. On those days, it suffices to send myself a text with a few keywords or a snippet. It’s not “success on a technicality (derogatory)”, because most of those snippets and ideas get used in actual stories later. And if they don’t, they don’t. It’s still writing. No writing is ever wasted.

A side note on high expectations, imposter syndrome, and perfectionism

Obviously, “Setting a ridiculously low goal” isn’t something I invented. I actually got it from those productivity books, only I never got it to work. I used to tell myself: “It’s okay if I don’t write for an hour, because my goal is to write for 20 minutes and if I happen to keep going for, say, an hour, that’s a bonus.” Right? So I set the goal for 20 minutes, wrote for 35 minutes, and instead of feeling like I exceeded my goal, I felt disappointed because apparently I was still hoping for the bonus scenario to happen. I didn’t know how to set a goal so low and believe it.

I think the trick to making it work this time lies more in the groundwork of training my brain to enjoy writing again than in the fact that my daily goal is ridiculously low. I believe I’m a writer, because I prove it to myself every day. Every success I hit reinforces the idea that I’m a writer. It’s an extra ward against imposter syndrome.

Knowing that I can still come up with a few lines of dialogue on the Really Bad Days—days when I struggle to brush my teeth, the day when I had a panic attack in the supermarket, or the day my kid got hit by a car—teaches me that I can write on the mere Bad-ish Days.

The more I do it, the more I do it

The irony is that setting a ridiculously low goal almost immediately led to writing more and more often. The most difficult step is to start a new habit. After just a few weeks, I noticed that I needed less time and energy to get into the zone. I no longer needed all the strategies I listed above.

Another perk I noticed, was an increased writing speed. After just a few months of writing every day, my average speed went from 600 words per hour to 1,500 wph, regularly exceeding 2,000 wph without any loss of quality.

Talking about quality: I could see myself becoming a better writer with every passing month. Writing better dialogue, interiority, chemistry, humour, descriptions, whatever: they all improved noticeably, and I wasn’t a bad writer to begin with.

The increased speed means I get more done with the same amount of energy spent. I used to write around 2,000-5,000 words per month, some months none at all. Nowadays I effortlessly write 30,000 words per month. I didn’t set out to write more, it’s just a nice perk.

Look, I’m not saying you should write every day if it doesn’t work for you. My point is: the more often you write, the easier it will be.

No pressure

Yes, I’m still working on my novel, but I’m not racing through it. I produce two or three chapters per month, and the rest of my time goes to short stories my brain keeps projecting on the inside of my eyelids when I’m trying to sleep. I might as well write them down, right?

These short stories started out as self-indulgence, and even now that I take them more seriously, they are still just for me. I don’t intend to ever publish them, no-one will ever read them, they can suck if they suck. The unintended consequence was that my short stories are some of my best writing, because there’s no pressure, it’s pure fun.

Does it make sense to spend, say, 90% of my output on stories no-one else will ever read? Wouldn’t it be better to spend all that creative energy and time on my novel? Well, yes. If you find the magic trick, let me know, because I haven’t found it yet. The short stories don’t cannibalize on the novel, because they require different mindsets. If I stopped writing the short stories, I wouldn’t produce more chapters. (I tried. Maybe in the future? Fingers crossed.)

Don’t wait for inspiration to hit

There’s a quote by Picasso: “Inspiration hits, but it has to find you working.” I strongly agree. Writing is not some mystical, muse-y gift, it’s a skill and inspiration does exist, but usually it’s brought on by doing the work. So just get started and inspiration will come to you.

Accountability and community

Having social factors in your toolbox is invaluable. I have an offline writing friend I take long walks with, I host a monthly writing club on Discord, and I have another group on Discord that holds me accountable every day. They all motivate me in different ways and it’s such a nice thing to share my successes with people who truly understand how hard it can be.

The productivity books taught me that if you want to make a big change in your life or attitude, surrounding yourself with people who already embody your ideal or your goal huuuugely helps. The fact that I have these productive people around me who also prioritize writing, makes it easier for me to stick to my own priorities.

Your toolbox

The idea is to have several techniques at your disposal to help you stay consistent. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket by focussing on just one technique. Keep all of them close, and if one stops working or doesn’t inspire you today, pivot and pick another one.

After a while, most “tools” run in the background once they are established. Things like surrounding myself with my writing friends, keeping up with my daily streak, and listening to the album I conditioned myself with don’t require any energy, and they still remain hugely beneficial.

Do you have any other techniques? I’d love to hear about them!

I hope this was useful. Happy writing!

[pizzaapeteer]

Springtime fun

Pairings: Enzo Berkshire x female reader Summary: 2.5 k. Enzo is infatuated by you in a sundress, so captativated by you in it that he has to take you right now. Warnings: nsfw, semi-public sex, female reader, swearing. Divider: Pretty divider found here!

a/n: I'm super glad to have finally finished this as it has been in my WIP since December 💀 Many of my friends will know about that so this one's for you. Ty for all the lovely encouragement for helping me finish it 💛 also heads up this is actually my first PIV smut.

Enzo loved spring. He loved the flowers that bloomed in the gardens, which he often picked to give to you. He loved watching alongside you the animals awaken from hibernation, listening as you listed facts about them. He loved being able to lie outside in the grass with his friends after class, enjoying the warmth of the sun as they messed around. But most of all, he loved that spring meant sundresses.

He had grown fond of them and loved seeing the different colours that paired well against your skin tone. The delicate shape of the dresses and how they hugged your body. He loved how versatile they were. Sometimes you'd wear a long flowy, one that would swirl in the wind or a short flare, one that fell just at the mid of your thighs. Some of them had lacy sleeves that covered your shoulders with elegant necklines. Others were backless, revealing to Enzo that you weren't wearing a bra. On the whole, when you wore a sundress, he was in heaven. 

He can still recall the first time he saw you in one, the weekend before Easter break. Sprawled out on a spot of grass near the black lake, Enzo lay with his friends. The hot sun warmed his neck, a constant breeze drifting by. He had been attempting to catch the little daisies Mattheo had plucked and rolled into balls to launch at him. Theo watched, amused, before turning his attention to snicker at Draco’s arrogant attempt to teach Astoria how to skip stones. Blaise rested nearby on a picnic mat, not wanting to get grass stains on his pants.

The sound of your laughter caught Enzo’s ears, whipping his head up to see you and Pansy approaching, carrying a jug of lemonade. His eyes rose, breath hitching as he took you in. Dressed in a royal blue sundress, scattered with white daisies, the colour popping against your skin. He dragged his eyes up your exposed legs, practically salivating at the sight of your curves fitting snugly in the frock. There was something about the sundress that made you look elegant yet sensual. Though, clearly not just to him, as he caught sight of his friend’s stares.

He stood up, licking his lips, still holding the slightly crumpled daisies in his hands. Walking forward, he embraced you in a hug, a smile pulling at his face. His hands wrapped around you, feeling the soft skin of your back. “Hey gorgeous,” he whispered, his face pulling back to give you a passionate kiss. He felt your hands slide around his neck as you leaned up on your tippy toes to meet his kiss. “I like your dress,” a flirty smirk stretched across his face.

The sound of your sweet giggle was music to his ears as you thanked him. Remembering the daisies, he unfolded his hands, chuckling, “for you.” You beamed at him, your eyes sparkling with amusement at his ‘gift’. “Not your usual flowers, Enz, but I accept.” He smiled, satisfied, taking your hand and leading you to join the others.

Gracefully, you sat down on the rug beside Blaise, noticing Pansy had already settled herself down next to Mattheo. Enzo watched cautiously as Blaise gave you a once over, taking his own seat across from you. He immersed himself in conversation with you, admiring the way you rambled about your day. His fingers found comfort resting on your thighs, tracing circles.

The warm sun shone, as breezes of wind blew your dress up slightly. As you talked, he found his mind wandering, unable to fully concentrate. Because of his height, he overlooked you even when sitting, allowing him to peer perfectly at the top of your breasts, sitting snugly against the dress’s neckline. His fingers twitched against your leg, pinching your skin softly as he thought about your nipples. 

At Pansy’s offer of lemonade, Enzo’s gaze turned momentarily to accept. He reached out to receive the two drinks, passing one to you. Cheering with you, his eyes observed the way you drank thirstily. Too fast though, as some of the liquid spilled from your cup down your mouth. It ran rapidly, dripping down your cleavage, causing you to squeal at the cold sensation.

Your outburst grabs the attention of your friends as you looked up, smiling sheepishly while muttering about being clumsy. Blaise shook his head, chuckling as he passed you a napkin, watching you wipe the liquid away.

As you cleaned yourself up, Enzo's brown eyes caught your attention, his honey orbs twinkling with mischief. “We’re going to take a walk,” Enzo announced, grabbing your hand and pulling you up, leaving no time for you to protest. You stood, almost stumbling, over Blaise as you found your footing, trailing behind in Enzo’s firm hold.

“Enzo, slow down,” you exclaimed, practically tripping over your feet as you trailed behind Enzo, his long legs striding down past the trees. He flicked his head, giving you a cheeky grin over his shoulder before he slowed down under a large pine tree. 

You took in the pretty scenery as you furrowed your brows, wondering why he had just pulled you away from your friends. Enzo seized the moment of your distraction to push you gently against the tree, grinning as you gasped. His lips invaded your neck, peppering hungry kisses across your soft skin. One of his hands reached down to grasp your hip, lightly pushing you further against the tree. You moaned into the kiss, your hands finding their way around his waist, the bark scratching your back.

Enzo’s touch wandered down your thigh with his other hand, sliding it up under your dress. “Do you know what this dress is doing to me?” he mumbled against your ear, nipping at it. You looked up into his sweet brown eyes, his pupils conveying his lust clearly.

He flashed you an irresistible smile and, in a moment's time, his arms enveloped around your hips, effortlessly hoisting you up. His muscles flexed, the clear evidence of his quidditch training shown as he secured you against the tree with one arm, the other trailing up to pull needily at the neckline of your dress.

Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist, your hands sliding up to grip his broad shoulders. The movement of your dress spilling, revealing further the tops of your chest, had Enzo groaning against your ear. “Fuck, and you're not even wearing a bra. You're driving me mad, baby.”

You squirmed against his eagerly aggressive hold, never having seen Enzo this feral before. The feeling of his hands tending to your exposed breasts, kneading at the complimentary flesh, driving you crazy. His fingers pulled further at the fabric, wanting to see all of you. You gasped, leaning your head back against the tree, his head moving down to capture your perky nipples in his sweet mouth.

The taste of lemonade filled his senses, mixed with the sweetness of your skin as his tongue lapped at it. His tongue swipes at the soft buds, the sounds of your mews making his cock twitch against his now constricting trousers. 

He’d never seen a piece of clothing accentuate your figure quite like this sundress had. The captivating blend of your alluring presence and almost bewitching sensualness drove him wild. He couldn’t believe what sorcery this was. He craved you in a way he never had before, his patience lost in the moment, unwilling to wait.

His hands scrunched up the fabric, pushing your dress higher, his fingertips grazing against your lacy undies. He dragged a whimper from you, pleading for more, the eagerness of Enzo’s movements and his desire to make quick work created a pool of wetness between your thighs.

He rested you down for an instant before his hands shifted, hiking one of your legs up and pressing your thigh firmly into place against the tree. The cool air blew between your spread legs, making you shiver, Enzo’s hunger making you whine. He shot you a teasing smile at your impatience. “Gonna fuck you hard in your pretty little sundress.” 

His free hand pulled at the restricting material, snapping your panties and extracting an agitated gasp from you. His grin widened smugly, stuffing your panties into his pocket. “Got your knickers in a twist, did I?” he chuckled at his own joke. You roll your eyes playfully at your boyfriend, watching in anticipation for his next move.

Still with your leg clutched by one of his hands, he skillfully maneuvered his belt and pants down with the other. Your eyes drifted, your core throbbing seeing his hardened cock, the pink tip already dampened with pre-cum. You bit your lip, eyes blown with lust as you yearned for him to fill you up.

He rubs his throbbing cock along your slit, coating it in your wetness teasingly, his eyes locked on your whiney face. He smirked, leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss, aggressively slipping his tongue into your mouth. He takes advantage of you being distracted to plunge his hips forward, sinking his cock deep inside of you, revelling in the way he heard your whines turn into muffled moans. His lips moved against yours, not letting you escape his ferocious kiss, his hand moving to caress your face. His fingers clasping at the nape of your neck, tilting your head upward. 

Your head spins, overwhelmed by the feeling of him pounding into your cunt and your breath being stolen by his sweet, ravenous lips. Your hands find their way into his hair tugging at his brown locks, making him grunt as his head jerks back, allowing you to catch your breath. He presses you further into the tree, his pace increasing as you throw your head back, mouth agape as moans fall from your lips. His grip on your thigh tightens as he uses you as his stability, his fingers kneading into your soft skin, no doubt leaving marks. 

“Fuck me. Look how well you’re taking me. Such a pretty little slut letting me fuck you out in the open.” His words have your lips parting, sensual moans falling from them. Your head tilts back to lean on the tree, your eyes scrunching shut. Your mind rushes with a state of wooziness, cheeks burning as your body rises in heat. He loves the way you fall apart at his words as hips thrust roughly, groaning as he watches the way your pussy clenches around his cock.

His hand reaches to rub your clit, erupting a string of incoherent whines out of you. The feel of your shallow breath against his skin makes him shiver. Your heart thumping while your body convulses with each thrust, the head of his cock slamming repeatedly inside, hitting that perfect spot. The noises of slapping echoes softly around the forest floor, though Enzo is so consumed with how his body is feeling to question if he took you further enough away from his friends.

“Such a good girl, that’s it clench around my cock, baby. God. Your pussy is so tight, you sound so fucking pretty.” Enzo’s words were spilling out of him in mumbles as his muscles tightened around his own pleasure building.

He leans his head against your forehead as he rubs your clit faster, holding off barely on his own orgasm. He desperately wants to hear you fall apart before he does, his lips brushing yours as he whispers, “come on pretty girl, be a good girl and cum for me.”

His words of encouragement send you over the edge as your body shakes, a rise of pleasure exploding through you. Your pussy pulses, squeezing him as your hands grasp at his shoulders, nails digging grasping at his shirt. A series of your own incoherent words fall from your lips in lustful moans.

Groans fall from Enzo’s lips, his eyes shut as you come undone, her unravelling triggering his own climax. His hands clench your thighs, pressing his hips further, enjoying how your pussy shakes at the feeling of him filling you up. 

He listens to the combination of your breathless pants blending together with his as your foreheads stick together. You two stay close, his cock resting comfortably still in your warm pussy, not wanting to pull out yet. As his eyes open, he takes in the gorgeous appearance of your flushed cheeks, the heightened desire fading from your eyes.

A smile spreads across his face, his hand releasing your thigh back down. Tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his hand cups your cheek. “God, you’re fucking beautiful.” His lips are on yours in a moment, taking you by surprise. 

The kiss is sweet and passionate. The feeling of warmth and love radiating off of him. Your lips moved in unison in a fervent dance, matching each other. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you moan, feeling him twitch, still being nestled inside you. Enzo pulls back with a cheeky grin, before he shifts his hips, removing himself from you.

He tucks himself back into his trousers, a sense of satisfaction flooding him, his eyes never leaving you. Amusement pools in them, watching how those once feral hands now delicately smooth out the fabric of your dress. Merlin, that dress, was going to be the death of him. Watching you fix yourself up just made him admire once again how it captured such an alluring feeling within him. 

Your movements are paused, your attention caught by the feeling of cum dripping slowly down your inner thigh. His brows raised, chuckling, taking in the nuance of her reaction as your cheeks blushed a deeper red. “Uh Enz, my panties please.” Your hand reached out, prompting him to hand the stuffed lace back to you. 

He chuckles, “No no, they’re staying with me, princess.” He notices your concerned look at heading back to your friend's pantie-less. “It’s alright. Everyone will just think it’s lemonade.” His face breaks into a cheeky grin at his assurance, sliding his tongue over his lips. The idea of you sitting soaked in his cum for the rest of the picnic in nothing but your dress is sending blood straight to his groin once again. 

You roll your eyes at his stupid statement, lunging at him to grab your underwear back. He’s quick and is already running past you and back towards the group, leaving you no choice but to follow. While your attempt to catch him is not apathetic, his legs are longer than yours and he reaches the clearing your friends are still sitting in first. At the sight of them you stall your running, catching your breath, shooting Enzo a glare.

He chuckles, manoeuvring between Draco and Theo to sit himself down, patting the picnic blanket for you to join. The others turn their heads at your entrance, noticing your slightly flushed expression and Enzo’s extra cheeky nature. Theo speaks up, always nosey to find out information. “How was your walk?”

Enzo watches with mischievous eyes as you plant a seat down beside him, as he replies to Theo. “Scenic, lots of pretty things down there.” He grins at you, trying not to give away too much. You blush, meeting his gaze already thinking about the next time you can wear another sundress.

⤷ navigation. ⤷ masterlist. ⤷ lorenzo masterlist. All work is my own and is not to be copied, claimed or stolen. ©️pizzaapeteer 2024.

[dinogoofymutated]

Cable/GN!Reader Okay, so I'm on my Cable shit again. I found this WIP and a couple others for him and GODDD UGH I'm so fucking obsessed. Love a good danger room sparring scene so this one was just for fun ;) I'd consider it part of the tender moments series I have going on, but you don't need to read the other two to understand this one. TWS: Kinda spicy, no smut. Making out, sparring, Nate being an absolute goofball in his own way. Caught by the parents trope (sorry Scott). Short but cute.

    Cable’s gun was smoking by the time the two of you cleared the last level of the danger room, and you were having the time of your life. You were tired, sure. But there was just something about the danger room that gave you such an adrenaline rush, and you were sure it might just be that you don’t actually have to worry about dying in here compared to real fights (mostly, at least). 

    You were having fun, but that didn’t mean you didn’t have a plan to excite the day a little further.

    “Alright, Last level finished. We should clear out for the others.” Cable says to you, switching the safety on his gun as he sets it to the side, stretching his arms and shoulders.

    “Well, actually…” You don’t even have to finish the thought, Nathan raising an eyebrow at you as he stands up to his full height, crossing his arms at you.

    “Seriously? You requested extra time to spar?” He asks, and even though he’s frowning, you can tell he’s poking fun at you. You shrug at him, looking up at him with an excited smile on your face.

  �� “Yeah? Why not?” You ask, knowing full well that you had never sparred with Nathan before despite the many years the two of you have been a team. Nate lets out an amused hum, looming before you as he squares his shoulders.

    “You realize that I’m twice your size, right?” Nathan says, an amused smile on his face.

    “And? Come on Nate, It’s not like I haven't fought someone your size before.” You tell him, and it makes Nathan laugh.

    “You mean the times I had to step in to save your sorry ass?” He says, causing your smile to drop into a pout as you start to deny it, just for him to flood your mind with somewhat embarrassing memories of him doing just that.

    “I- would you cut that out!” You scold, slapping his arm just to immediately try to hide the fact that it hurt- the sting of the metal a sharp pain across your palm. He chuckles at the action anyway- but you’ve never been a quitter.

     “-It’s starting to sound like you’re just making excuses, old man.” You say instead, and his eyes narrow at the name. He tilts his head at you with a dry expression like he’s asking if you're absolutely sure you want to play this game today, only for you to stubbornly meet his gaze with a defiant smirk.

    He doesn't stop to reply, instead immediately rushing you.

    He catches you off-guard at first, taking the breath out of you for a moment before you’re quickly ducking under his arms. Escaping him before he can get a good grip on you. If there was one thing that always surprised you, it was how Nathan managed to be so quick despite his huge stature. It’s hard to go blow to blow with him due to the size difference between the two of you, but you manage to get more than a few good hits in. You don’t know how long the two of you spar for, but when Nate finally kicks your legs out from underneath you and pins you to the ground, you’re too tired to fully fight back.

    The two of you are heaving, grinning at each other as your gaze stays locked, and even though you’re outmatched, you’re still unwilling to give up. Nathan gives you a judging stare as he hears the thought, unable to understand why you’re just so stubborn. Sure, he technically had bested you- calling just about every move you made down to the T due to his abilities, but you found that the best way to take Nathan by surprise was to act on impulse. 

    “Don’t be stubborn. You know you’ve been-” Nate lets out a surprised noise as you cut him off with a kiss, dragging him down closer to you by his broad shoulders. He’s stiff and surprised for a moment before he relaxes into the kiss. You had originally planned for this to be a distraction, but lord knows that you should have realized you would quickly be too caught up in the feeling of him against you to remember or care about what you were doing before.

    Nathan nips at your lips as one of his hands slides under your back to support you, the other keeping himself propped up against the tile floors. You let him take charge in the kiss as your hands wander up and down his clothed chest, drifting down to yank his shirt out of his belt so that you can touch his bare abdomen instead. Nate sighs into the kiss, adjusting so that he can press his knee against your core, causing you to moan into the kiss as his hand begins to slide your shirt off and he begins to kiss down your jaw and neck, just barely beginning to ravish you completely when the door slides open with a swish.

    “WOAH!” A voice calls out from the doorway, one you recognize instantly. You and Nathan separate, both startled by the sudden intrusion. Scott quickly covers his sunglass-covered eyes he looks away, embarrassed. You swear that you and Nate had never separated so quickly before, trying to make yourselves proper as you stand up and turn to face his young father.

    “I was- Uh, I was going to tell you two that dinner was ready.” Scott stutters out, still covering his eyes.

    “Oh! I didn't notice how long we had been in here!” You ramble, nervously fidgeting with your hands as you pretend to check the time. “Thank you for coming to get us.” You continue nervously, knowing for a fact you were only digging your hole deeper. Maybe once you’re done digging you can lie down inside of it and die from this horrible embarrassment.

    Thank him or apologize or something! You think pointedly at Cable while you're standing there, and all he does is give you an incredulous look.

    I’m not doing -either-. He interrupted us! Nathan tells you, returning the thought without so much as speaking a word.

    That’s because we were about to- You can't bring yourself to finish the sentence, blushing intensely at the images you think of as you picture exactly what you wanted him to do to you on the danger room floor. You see a light blush rise to Nathan’s cheeks too, despite his ever-grumpy expression. -WAIT!- Not the point! It- Damnit! PUBLIC space, Nathan! Public space!!! Damn your stupid intrusive thoughts! You know you’re completely flustered and embarrassed, unable to actually believe that you were just walked in on by Nathan’s young father.

    Scott finally turns to leave for a moment, and you feel the tension in your shoulders let up a bit when the doors slide shut, only for your anxiety to spark immediately after when the doors swoosh open again, Scott still standing there with his eyes covered.

    “I, uh, since you’re both grown adults and everything, I assume I don’t need to give you the talk, Right?” Scott asks, and if you could shrivel up and die right at this moment in time, you would gladly do so.

    “Oh my god.” You sat, covering your red face.

    “No, Dad! Could you just leave already?!” Nathan finally yells, and for a moment you wonder if all this embarrassment you’re feeling is coming from him, too. Scott nods vigorously, letting out a quiet, “Yeah, Yup.” as he quickly and finally leaves the room. 

    Both of you let out a sigh of relief when he’s gone, still embarrassed to the very core at bening caught like that.

    “Jesus Christ, we look like a couple of horny teens or something, getting caught like that.” You mumble after a long pause, trying to shake it off. You hear Nathan snort from next to you, and you give him a confused look. 

    “Who’s we?” He asks. You roll your eyes and he lets out an amused huff at the sight.

    I’ve seen every corner of your mind, Sweetpea. You can’t hide your thoughts from me. Nate tells you, flashing the images of some of your dirtiest and most inappropriate thoughts about him in your mind. You were sure there was so much blood rushing to your face at this point that it was about to explode.

    “Would you, please, stop that!”

[the-superoriginal]

A taste of the forbidden fruit

Summary: This should have been just a day like any other. But it ended with something you hadn't even dared to hope to actually happen.

Warning(s): dbf!bucky, short!female!reader, age gap (reader is in her early 20 and Bucky in his mid 30s), kissing, guess you can read it as a gender neutral! reader too?

A/N: I finally finished a/this WIP! Wuhu! (Please, imagine me to wipe the non-existenting sweat from my forehead now.) I am not really satisfied with it through, but I guess I can still publish a updated version one day.

PS: I am awful with writing summaries and titles.

English is not my native language!

You leaned back against the beige jeep of your Dad's best friend, the sun slowly setting after a long day and basking the sky in a mix of orange, lila und blue. "I'll bet 5 Dollar that she won't even remember this tomorrow.", you grinned slightly amused as Bucky came back out of your friend's house again. He had just brought her in like the gentleman he was, because Lucy had drunk just a bit too much. And considering your height difference and the fact she weighed a bit more you hadn't been able to bring her in. The man chuckled quietly, shaking his head a bit as he rounded his car, pointing at you for a moment while opening the driver's seat door. "Deal."

He may be a gentleman but he could have fun too.

Your grin widened as you seated yourself in the passenger seat again. Bucky following just a second later. His cologne hit you after the doors were closed and he started to drive. It tickled your nose, his scent a pleasing mix of the cologne and him — musky, old books and motor oil.

It wasn't the first time you noticed it and you were sure it wouldn't be the last. He was your father's best friend after all which inevitably meant that he was at least once a week in your parents house and also had physical contact with you occasionally.

"There we are.", Bucky mumbled as he opened the passenger door for you, helping you out with his larger hand wrapped around yours. You chuckled a bit, ignoring the warmth his touch sent through you. "You don't need to do that, you know that, yeah?"

He just smiled, revealing his laugh lines to you again as he closed the door behind you, letting go of your hand in the progress. He was beautiful and you screwed for catching yourself thinking it more and more recently. "I know. But I wanted to do it.", he simply said and you cursed internally for how it made your heart skip.

"You coming in too?", you asked while already making your way to the front door. You hoped he would. Just so you could spend a bit more time with him. Especially now where it were just you two. Without your parents or friends. Bucky chuckled lightly as you opened the door, his words soft. "Of course."

A few hours passed filled with laughter and shared stories. By now the sky was dark to make room for the moon and stars. "And then I spilled my coffee on him.", you ended your story with a chuckle. It wasn't embarrassing to you anymore. There had been enough time passed between the happening of the story and now. Bucky chuckled, his forearms resting on the kitchen isle were you two were seated since a while. "Well, that's one way to do it."

"It's a good way through. 'Cause it worked." He shook his head lightly in disbelief, still grinning while you took a sip from your hot cocoa. The liquid flowing down your throat pleasantly. His blue eyes catched yours as you set the cup on the isle and suddenly something shifted. His eyes held a glint that you hadn't seen before. They seemed lighter, sparkling in a way.

Bucky leaned a bit closer and you weren't sure if he even noticed it himself, his gaze dropping lower for a second and your heart skipped in ancipaction. There was clearly something unspoken lingering in the air, not able to be missed. A desire, longing. Yet there was also the unfiltered reality in the back of your mind, your inner voice arguing to lean back or away. To do anything to break this spell that lay over you two. Bucky was older than you and, the even more important part, he was your father's best friend.

But then his lips brushed yours. A barely there touch, so featherlight that yours eyes falled closed on their own accord, and the voice got quieter. He gave you the chance to pull away and simultaneously tested the waters. You gathered your courage and then you pressed your lips against his.

Bucky breathed quietly out and then he kissed you fully, his hands finding their way on your cheeks, holding your face delicately while your lips melted together in a gentle symphony full of longing and desire. You didn't know how long the kiss lasted, but when he parted your hands had a soft grip on his shirt. God, you have never been kissed like this before.

"We will figure this out.", he whispered quietly after moments were your inner voice had come back. His words were a promise that this wasn't just a fleeting thing. That they would be more. That he wanted more.

[sulphuricgrin]

WIP Wednesday

tagged by @skyrim-forever @captain-of-silvenar and @theoneandonlysemla thank you!

no pressure tagging: @hircines-hunter @firefly-factory @dirty-bosmer @saltymaplesyrup @pocket-vvardvark @madam-whim @moriche @sunlightpassingthroughthewater

@scholarlyhermit @illumiera @yansurnummu @truth-01001001-liar @silly-little-diary @pinessydr @oblivions-dawn @yewphoric @lobo-inu @zuutiomi @moogaiashe @gamevoidartblog

--

So I took what we've got of Apocrypha (in ESO and Skyrim) and the Ciphers Midden (in ESO) and made it weirder? Because Oblivion should be weirder. Also touching on the culture among the Ciphers. Fun fact: did you know Miraak's highest stat in Skyrim is Speech? 👀

As always, if you see a mistake, no you didn't. ;v;

--

The Ciphers Midden is a settlement only in the loosest sense ― a precarious mass of architecture and obsession, rising in defiance of both gravity and reason. Built upon itself over uncounted centuries, millennia, the Midden is a layered sprawl of leaning buildings, swaying bridges, stilted walkways and chambers made from warped stone, blackened timber, and entire walls of ink-slicked tomes. Born from the first scholars who swore fealty to Hermaeus Mora, every addition is constructed atop the bones of the last, a patchwork of necessity shaped by the growing ranks of mortal ciphers. 

Apocrypha itself is alive in a way that defies Nirn’s natural order. The realm sometimes shudders and sighs, like some vast, sleeping leviathan dreaming beneath its own surface. There is a rhythm to it ― but not one that can be charted or predicted. The terrain groans and slides, shifting with no warning or pattern, following only the whims of its master. Bookshelves rearrange themselves. Dungeons surface for days, then vanish into the fog. Whole wings of the Midden might even vanish for a century and then return unchanged, as though time had simply forgotten them. 

And yet, the Midden endures. 

Somehow, through all of this chaos, the pseudo-capital survives. Not untouched ― but adaptive. The ciphers learn to live with the realm’s moods. They tie their bridges loosely to allow for movement, do not keep sentimentality to libraries that might disappear, and leave sigils to guide them when the land reorders itself overnight. What looks like madness is in fact resilience ― an evolving architecture of obsession and reverence, shaped by mortals who have accepted that certainty is not a luxury Apocrypha offers. 

To walk the Midden is to feel the weight of eras pressing in from all sides, to hear whispered secrets humming in the wall, and to know that you are a guest in a realm that thinks ― and watches. It is a place built not by masons, but by scholars too deep in Mora’s service to remember the difference between structure and scripture. 

The floor creaks beneath Miraak’s boots, though whether it was wood, paper, or something in between was impossible to say. It shifts ever so slightly as he walks, like the Midden was breathing again ― exhaling a long, low sigh that stirs the edges of nearby scrolls. Above, distant walkways crisscross like veins, some sagging with age while others were newly hammered into place, fresh ink still drying on their signs. Far below, through a gap in the floorboards, the glimmer of older fires and deeper whispers remind him what waited beneath: the sunken level, where half-mad ciphers, so close to becoming Hushed, mutter to themselves in libraries that threaten to collapse in on their own knowledge. 

He passes beneath an arched platform of blackstone where two ciphers converse in murmurs. One notices him. The conversation breaks. No words exchanged, just a glance as Miraak moves on. They were smart to keep their words to themselves. 

Ciphers came and went like tides ― fresh minds plucked from Nirn and dropped into the Great Eye’s library. They came expecting clarity, or freedom, or enlightenment. They learned quickly ― besides the one that watches, there were no masters in Apocrypha. No laws. No kings. No coin, not really. 

Even Miraak, who had once killed dragons, was no exception. 

In Apocrypha, you had freedom to study what you wanted, but were also free to starve, to become corrupted. In Apocrypha, secrets were the only wealth. And everyone was both merchant and thief. 

Some secrets were traded openly ― bits of myth, pages of lost prophecy, names of forgotten rulers. Others were bartered behind ink-stained curtains: the bloodlines of powerful mages, the passwords or keys to sealed ruins, the hidden shame of rival scholars. Exclusivity defined value. Power determined cost. The stranger the secret, the more it was worth. 

A new cipher, fresh from the mortal world and still blinking in awe at the horizonless stacks, might earn food or protection by swearing to share future discoveries. A more seasoned one might buy labor with a whispered scandal from a Jarl’s court or a piece of a spell once hidden. Some trafficked only in obscure things ― relic blueprints, daedric phonemes, ancient lover letters. Others amassed knowledge with ruthless specificity, curating lifetimes of research on just one topic. 

Miraak, of course, had plenty to offer, but gave sparingly. Secrets could not be spent twice. And trust was thinner here than paper left in the rain. 

To most ciphers, Miraak was a myth made inconveniently real. They whispered of his age and occasional temper, the way he sometimes bartered like a scholar and other times like a tyrant. Still even he couldn’t cut lines through Apocrypha’s culture. 

Authority was transactional ― measured in secrets traded, promises banked, leverage carefully kept or burned. True, Miraak had the thu’um and could bend another’s will, but so very long ago he learned there was a limit. A limit on the mortal mind and how much it could handle being turned inside out. The shout he learned from Hermaeus Mora had…unintended consequences. Not to Miraak, not directly. Because the shout worked much like normal spells, it did eventually wear off. So naturally he had been liberal in its usage, keeping some new ciphers in Apocrypha under his constant control. But then came the problems ― it eventually would make their minds like books riddled with book mites. It made them slower in their work, forgetful. 

They never had to worry about Apocrypha corrupting their minds, for he was doing it for them. And in doing so, he was burning through usable hands, losing access to the potential of some coveted sliver of knowledge that might be uncovered by some poor scholar. 

So he was forced to change tactics early. He could not force his way, instead fell into the use of a silvertongue and patience. He would start with small favours, asking for the retrieval of books in exchange for gold. A translation and in return help the cipher with their own ambitions. The more they worked with him, the easier to trap them into plots, to blackmail them, to make it harder for them to say no. Though on occasion he could make loyal ciphers, they would eventually succumb to time, or to Apocrypha, or worse still, to him. 

Another option was using the title of Champion or First Servant, but he did so sparingly, knowing where it would hold weight. Even rarer to share that he was Dragonborn, for that secret was worth more than a dragon’s weight in gold and hid what he could do. A wound to the pride to hide it, but in time, Nirn would remember the first Dragonborn. 

He has patience. 

[pigeonsholdup]

Doubling Down AU

Essentially, Weirdmageddon happens twice. Once in the 80s, right after Stan and Fiddleford bring Ford back, and once in 2013, when Dipper and Mabel are shipped off to live with their Great Uncle Ford and his kooky friends (who are definitely not married and one of whom is definitely not his deceased brother, noo...).

I have a WIP fic about this AU, following Stan and Fiddleford's 80s shenanigans, if you're interested in that. Anyways,

80s Weirdmageddon happens because Bill is a manipulative PoS. Stan is freshly booted out of the Mystery Shack—or Murder Hut, as its still being called—and is desperately clinging to his childhood dreams. Ford is right there, after all. He's home. And real. And alive. Bill comes to him much like Dipper in Sock Opera. Stan is quite literally at his lowest yet again and even has the added benefit of never having met Bill before—in fact, the first journal (the journal Stan was in possession of) glazes the concept of Bill so hard its easy to see why Stan made the deal he did.

All Stan needed to do was hand over the weird orb thing Ford never cared to explain to his best demon buddy and then he'd be granted a time bubble—a place where his life can be completely fulfilled in whatever way he wants. Bill implies that Ford would be there in the time bubble too and Stan hardly needs to hear anything more.

It's selfish, but he'd been living for other people for so long—living was hardly even a good word to describe it. He was scraping by. Skipping meals, getting into trouble, anything to keep himself afloat for another day. He felt good enough, sacrificing something so unimportant Ford didn't even bother to tell him about for the chance to finally live.

So he shakes Bill's hand. And Bill laughs, promising Stan that he won't regret this.

The funny thing about the time bubble, especially during Weirdmageddon, is that Bill controls it. Bill has access to Stan's mind completely. And, since its owned by Stan and controlled by Bill, everyone can 'enter' Stan's mind and more or less see what he wants to keep around.

There are only a handful of people in Stan's time bubble—Ford, Fiddleford, and his mom, namely. He doesn't have a reference point for an older Shermie and his father is an.. interesting man. Stan in his time bubble still lives in the Mystery Shack, just now he and Fiddleford have a more intimate relationship and he and Ford get to go out on the Stan O' War II from time to time.

It's quite a simple life, being honest, and it makes it all the more devastating. In Stan's perfect world, he's not necessarily rich or famous—maybe that's what Mr. Mystery wants but Stanley Pines doesn't give a shit about that. Stanley Pines just wants to be with people that he loves and who love him. He has his brother and his partner and his mom routinely calls on the weekends. That's all he needs.

..Until it isn't.

The time bubble doesn't erase memories. Bill may suppress the "bad ones" (the ones telling the inhabitant to overthrow Bill) to some extent, but he can never truly get rid of memories without frying the users brain—and what fun is that?

So Stan begins to understand that his Fiddleford and Ford and mom are not the real ones. This isn't some paradox bubble where everyone is real and loves him. This is some trashy reality TV Show where Stan is the main character.

Stan, seeing that Ford and Fiddleford came to save him (begrudgingly and with a Quantum Destabliliser, according to Ford), is immediately thrust into a choice—live in his perfect world where Ford and Fidds unconditionally love him or join Ford and Fidds in their plan and potentially stay homeless for the rest of his life. He picks potential homelessness after Fidds insists that they need him. (Ford doesn't comment, just grips the destabilizer like it owes him money.)

A scuffle and some angst later, they make it out of the bubble and find their way into the Fearamid. Ford tries to conjure the Zodiac but with it being the same as the original, they can't do the ritual. So instead, Ford gets Stan to distract Bill.

I'm unsure how we get there as of this moment, but Fidds is the one to pull the trigger and Quantum Destabilize Bill, sending him back into the Dreamscape realm and forcing his takeover to spiral downward, returning Gravity Falls to its pre-weirdness version.

I'm working out the details in the 2013 Weirdmageddon but the 80s one is mostly done! (Cough cough don't be afraid to send asks I'm such a yapper)

[uraichievents]

UraIchi Week 2024

Monday, July 1st, 2024 - Sunday, July 7th, 2024

AO3 Collection

Full Prompts List Submitted This Year

(Click images to enlarge. Alt text under the cut.)

What is UraIchi Week?

It’s a week-long fanworks event to promote the Urahara Kisuke x Kurosaki Ichigo ship. There’s no sign-up, it’s just for fun, and everybody can participate. Completed works and wips are both acceptable, and any type of fanwork (fanfic, fanart, gifsets, etc.) is welcome. NSFW and/or potentially trigger-y content is allowed, although please remember to tag your works properly.

The ship itself can be written romantically or platonically, as lovers or friends or even enemies, so long as it stars these two characters together in some way. Poly ships are also fine so long as Ichigo and Kisuke are still the focus of the fanwork. And crossovers and fusions are also allowed even if it isn’t one of the given prompts for the event. Basically, anything goes, and the only criteria is that it has to be UraIchi-centric.

Posting:

UraIchi Week is hosted here on Tumblr and on AO3. For posts on Tumblr, remember to ping @uraichievents and tag #UraIchi Week 2024. For AO3, you can add your work(s) to the collection linked up above. You are also welcome to join the UraIchi Discord server if you haven’t already and come and talk about what you’re working on!

Themes:

July 1st, Day 1: i've met you before / i'll meet you again / this is the first time we've met.. right?

Time Travel / Dimension Travel

Identity Porn / Hidden Identities

“I've suffered from traumatic dreams of my past lives since I was a child, and I'm just now realizing that coming up to a beautiful stranger who looks like someone I've seen die a thousand times in a thousand different ways at a bar and asking if we've met before sounds a lot like a come-on haha no wait come back that doesn't mean I'm not desperately attracted to you please kiss me again” AU

July 2nd, Day 2: It's fact that killable problems are not real problems.

Murder Husbands

Ichigo is Deadpool / unbreakable / any other accidentally immortal being who is really kind of annoyed about it (because it’s boring, and he’s still young enough to be within his lifespan, but it sure takes the fun out of fighting).

All the times Ichigo died, he ACTUALLY died, he just came back. Every time he comes back, he comes back Wronger.

July 3rd, Day 3: Things I Should've Told You / Things I Don't Tell Anyone Else

The skeletons in your closet are about to overflow. Would you like me to tidy it up?

Ichigo is experimenting with self-expression, a hobby, etc., making up for lost time as a regular teenager. Urahara is always the first one (sometimes only one) to see or hear about a new idea.

“The person I trust most is you.”

July 4th, Day 4: Sword and Shield

I am yours to command, use me as you please.

Shiba!Ichigo and Second Division!Kisuke

Summoner/Mage AU: Paired summons who are good apart but unmatched together.

July 5th, Day 5: That One is Mine

Hollow Instincts / Feral Protective

Possessive!Kisuke: He stepped aside for Sui-Feng because Yoruichi was always master first and friend second and love interest never, and because Yoruichi wanted her in a way she's never wanted him. But Ichigo is different, and everyone soon realizes that when Kisuke truly wants something, he always gets it in the end.

“Death can’t have you. You’re mine.”

July 6th, Day 6: Monsters come in all shapes and sizes. Some are born, some are made, and some decide being a monster's pretty fucking cool.

Visored!Urahara Kisuke AU / Vasto Lorde!Kurosaki Ichigo AU

“Ichigo forges a friendship with his Hollow in the Shattered Shaft” AU

vs. Gotei 13 AU: Ichigo time travels back from a future where he was chained to the throne as the next Soul King by the Shinigami.

July 7th, Day 7: Creator’s Choice!

As always, the above prompts are all optional, and you’re free to come with your own ideas. You can also find an excel sheet with all the prompts submitted this year linked up above, so feel free to look through that if you want, and you can also make a copy for yourself.

And that’s it! We’re looking forward to what everyone comes up with!

[cantareincminor]

Fandom Wrapped (Reader Edition) 2024!

Thanks to the wonderful @kattyelf for creating this template! Links and detailed reviews under the cut.

Disclaimer: I probably read hundreds of SxF fics in the past year, and it was not easy to choose which ones to put in the list above (or below)! This fandom is full of wonderful, friendly creators and I am so glad to be part of it. I also had to narrow it down to only the ones I read and reread in 2024, not 2022 or 2023. Finally...I also happened to read many good fics only once. Sometimes a fic is just too painful or sad to reread, especially if it's not finished.

Favorite fic and author: After peace by @unhappy-sometimes!

I could gush about unso for a whole post and not be done, but I will try to contain myself. Her fic After peace originated from an AU comic she drew where Twilight was forced to retire early due a major injury, and drifted aimlessly until WISE asked him to take care of an orphan they had rescued from Project Apple. There are several things that amazed me about this fic and cemented it in first place for 2024:

The premise. It was original and so full of potential.

How personal Twilight's journey felt to me. I didn't have a life-threatening injury, but I did put my career on hiatus in the past year and have often struggled with questions of -- what am I worth when I'm not "doing" anything? I was so used to going 150% in the rat race and coming out on top at great personal cost to health and family; even if all that was bad, how else can I get that sense of accomplishment? How can I stop wanting that sense of accomplishment?

Her style, which is both vivid AND concise. The fic was around 22K words if I remember correctly, with a well-constructed plot, character arcs, plenty of emotional beats, and a satisfying resolution. I often wonder if my writing is too verbose and when I see something like After peace, it challenges me to do better.

THIS WAS UNSO'S FIRST FIC EVER. THE HELL. It's like a freshman album that gets put up for a Grammy.

Fic(s) I reread (plus runners-up):

That Time Yor Seriously Thought About Leaving by peonydee: This is a WIP with one more chapter before completion, I believe. Peonydee's style is unique in how it's hard-hitting and disarming at the same time. Yor and Twilight find themselves in impossible situations, their relationship tested to the limit (and one of them in a close brush with death), yet there's still an undercurrent of wry humor, almost fatalistic due to the fact both of them have been steeped in death and dirty work for decades, yet still hopeful and reaching for each other. I also cackle every time she makes Twilight go off on a mansplaining tangent without ever using the term outright. A masterpiece of show not tell.

Is It Really All Right? by zyzy1083: This one is tender. A jealous!Loid fic with a fascinating portrayal of Loid from Yor's perspective. The imagery of a dark sea choking down any true thought or emotion from breaking for air will stay with me for a long time. There's also the fact she basically made up lyrics for an indie song as part of the plot and I had to ask whether it was a real song. Finally, there's the fact she was bold enough to portray Loid as less than a perfect, kind, smiley husband toward Yor, but in a believable way. He snaps at Yor at times. He loses his patience. It feels like a real relationship, in the awkward tension when one partner wants to talk and the other absolutely does not want to talk. I admire that courage and wish more authors would take that risk (calling myself out I guess!).

Green-eyed Monster by bigbruja: another jealous!Loid fic that's lighthearted and fun. This is a comfort reread. I enjoy seeing Loid recognize the threat of a supposed "old friend" of Yor's, questioning his own feelings and how far he needs to go to fend this guy off. The guy is a Garden assassin, unbeknownst to him. I also love Yor's own inner struggle of just wanting everyone to get along, but showing steel when she needs to.

dalliance by rosetintednerdglasses: this is a WIP, but it is HILARIOUS and I hope everyone will go encourage this author to pick this fic back up when they have a chance. TLDR, Twilight (in disguise) is sent on a joint mission with Thorn Princess and flips out internally when he sees it's Yor. Handler then orders him to ensure Thorn Princess continues to cooperate. So as Twilight, he has to sort-of honey trap Thorn Princess, while as Loid he has to keep Yor happy. Poor Yor believes she's torn between two different men and close to cheating on Loid! Situational hilarity all over the place, and fun world-building, like this other WISE agent randomly named "Steel Bunny" (LOL).

Not According to Plan by @kyrathel: love you girl! This is a gift fic for me, but that's not the reason I reread it (even though it's a WIP as well!). It's SO FUNNY. Twilight gets it in his overly anxious head that he MUST defend his wife from the bullies at City Hall, so what does he do? HE INFILTRATES CITY HALL AS A NEW FEMALE HIRE. The world absolutely needs more petty!Twilight! The latest chapter features laxative brownies. Enough said.

Let's start living dangerously by @beannoss: I specifically reread the later parts when dumb Twilight gets over his dumbness and finally talks to Yor! And they kiss again! I love the way huhwaku (beannoss) portrays overthinking Twilight AND overthinking Yor. And also, the simplicity of Yor at the same time. The voice she uses for both of them is refreshing, it really puts you in the mindset of the character. Yor's giggles ("teehee!") as she teases Twilight about his little perfectionist habits are a cute touch to a gentle, heartwarming fic about these two highly competent professionals just starting to take baby steps in how to be competent at a relationship.

Fic that made me emotional:

100% Perfect by @sometimesiship. Where do I begin? How about with the gut aversion I initially had to the premise of a futuristic AI dating bot AU, due to all the tragic, dark AI movies I have watched? But as it neared completion, someone convinced me to give it a try and I AM SO GLAD I DID. You can see my gushing comments in almost every chapter. The development of the relationship between human Yor and AI Loid is so natural, funny at times, poignant always, and beautifully written, even though from an objective standpoint not much exciting stuff happens (I mean canon-typical excitement like murders and spy missions). Sometimesiship has a way of describing emotion that is so raw -- she can portray the same emotion a dozen different ways with analogies and setups and dialogue and whatever -- and it still doesn't feel old. And the emotion that dominated the second half of the story was grief. Basically the grief of loving someone you know you're going to lose. Like being the spouse of a terminal cancer patient. I didn't cry while reading, but it was a closer call than I have had in a VERY long time. So much beauty and humanity in this story. And spoiler (?), it's a happy ending. So I hope you all go check it out!

That's a wrap! If you read this far, stay tuned for a Writer version of Fandom Wrapped 2024!

[thedilfdiaries]

get to know your moots

ty for the tags loves <3 @probablyreadinsmut @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ace-turned-confused @thundermartini @kedsandtubesocks and @reddedmiller

what's the origin of your blog title?: me being an uncreative basic bitch. but it's fine we are suffering through the consequences of the most uncreative username of all time.

OTP(s) + shipname: me, joel miller AND javier pena <3

favorite color: black and mint green (yes ik its very specific idk really what to say I even have a tattoo that is partially this color lol)

favorite game: rdr2, dreamlight valley, tlou, bg3, mariooooo, zelda, assasins creed

song stuck in your head: hold the line - toto and whatever is on my fic playlist

weirdest habit/trait?: probably a lot but the most annoying as a lot of us have mentioned is assuming no one really likes me. but also doing that thing where you start a task and then see something else that has to be done so by the time you have finished you've begun 50 other tasks

hobbies: video games, reading, writing stories, poems and music, pretending I can bake cute aesthetic things I find on Instagram reels, calligraphy, collecting sea glass and sea shells.

if you work, what's your profession? i worked on a cow farm

if you could have any job you wish what would it be? a sugar baby, someone who lives on a beach, but really anything in music bts or in front or a psychologist but instead I went to school two times for things I did not end up staying with haaaaaa

something you're good at: giving you compliments until you tell me to stfu

something you're bad at: i like this answer so same -> putting myself first, also as it's been said a few times socializing, and flirting

something you love: documentaries ommmg jdkfdakjf <3 <3, downtime when I can have it, also I always forget how much I love the sun until this time of year, hearing a favorite song you haven't heard in a long time, watching stuff with people whether its movies or youtube videos or shows

something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: video games, music, joel miller, the octopus lifecycle, Shakespeare, fun bts facts of my favorite movies and tv shows (I could spend days upon days looking up facts about how movies and shows are made and the little details in each of my favorite movies and shows)

something you hate: when its too hot or too cold, when I do that thing and don't buy snacks to be "healthy" and then wish I had a snack and math.

something you collect: i was collecting miniatures until they all got lost in a move, sea shells, coca cola memrobilia, Marilyn Monroe memorabilia, coral, anything vintage, trauma, and wips

something you forget: what don't I forget

what's your love language?: acts of service, words of affirmation, physical touch

favorite movie/show: beauty and the beast, most keanu reeves movies as I've been binging them lately, lotr, how to lose a guy in 10 days, donnie darko,

favorite food: potatoes any day, any way, any form

favorite animal: cows, platypus', whales and dolphins

what were you like as a child? the quiet kid who was basically a mute because anxiety sucks and being perceived is frightening - lemme just fade into the floor

favorite subject at school? psychology, english because we could read Shakespeare and really cool books, science, music class, history, french, home ec, woodshop

least favorite subject? math and phys ed cause ya girl ain't a runner but yet they're all like "ohh its not that hard" but bro you're not even doing it

what's your best character trait? why are these questions so hard though? like idk my ability to make people feel comfortable?? i feel weird answering this lol

what's your worst character trait? i guess my inability to put myself first still and my dad jokes and sometimes I get quiet because I have a huge fear of rejection or abandonment

if you could change any detail of your day right now what would it be? that I was on vacation instead of driving around for hours today or sleeping more that'd be great

if you could travel in time who would you like to meet? Beethoven, Shakespeare, my grandparents, Marilyn Monroe, John Lennon, Frida Kahlo, idkkkk

recommend one of your favorite fanfics (spread the love!): there's so many this is rude asking for one so I'll give you two series. recently I read late night texts by @jolapeno and the wolf you feed by @arcanefox207 these series changed my brain chemistry for the best. I could scream on every rooftop in the world about these to every person in the world like please READ THEM!!!

npt: @arcanefox207 @gothcsz @syd-djarin @sunshinehaze1 @sunshineispunk @milla-frenchy @aurorawritestoescape @604to647 @myownwholewildworld @evolnoomym @slimybeth69 @almostfoxglove @lotusbxtch @baronessvonglitter me smooching you all through the phone <3 <3 <3 cause you all deserve every ounce of love and joy in the whole world

[guppybibi]

hai..um heres a wip bcus i realized i have like 10+ wips

Ever since Johnny made what seemed to be an impulsive decision of joining the military, you two have been the talk of the town. “He had the potential to be an artist.” and “He could've been an artist, what happened?” Those were a couple of the various questions asked of you. And if you were truly being honest..You weren't quite sure either. Not once in your years of being together has he ever hinted about signing up for the military.

Nonetheless you continued to support his decision, not doubting him even for a single second. Going long distance when you two have practically been together for who knows how long certainly wasn't the easiest but it looked like everything paid off when you learned that he was the youngest candidate to ever pass SAS selection through a letter, whatever that was..All you knew is that you were proud of him. You wondered why the hell they called him ‘Soap’ though..

Communicating through letters wasn't the worst thing in the world, in fact, it left you with more longing than ever before in your life. Well except the longing progressively watered down when letters from your Johnny stop coming through. Day by day it felt like arrows were being shot at your heart, and you knew for sure that it wasn't Cupid’s doing.

Soon you're hit with a large smack of reality when you receive a message from someone named ‘John Price’ about Johnny being killed on an important mission. You wouldn't say you were surprised but he promised. A promise that he would come back home to you, that the deadly silence in your home would be filled with his voice again. What a fucking liar he was.

The world isn't going to stop spinning just because someone got their heart broken from the news of a loved one dying and is mourning, especially if it's a mere girl from a quaint town. The world is unfair. It's always been like that, it probably won't change until a few centuries later either.

So, moving on seemed easy enough. It really couldn't be that hard right? You've lived half of your life without Johnny, you're sure you can spend the rest without him as well. This is just one challenge life handed you, you could most definitely handle it. Yup, no problem. Cleaning up Johnny’s belongings wasn't heartbreaking whatsoever, and seeing the last bouquet of flowers he sent you slowly wilt over the days was fun.

..Okay maybe it wasn't all that easy. Maybe admitting that you're struggling is fine, though that was just a baby’s first steps. In the end, progress is still progress so you decided that maybe your heart could handle finishing looking through Johnny’s things plus cleaning because you haven't been in that room for months now. Particularly the stuff in his office, well not really office per se, simply a random room where he stored random items for hobbies he says he’ll get to eventually. News flash, he didn't so now you're stuck with all of it.

You started off strong, dusting shelves and sweeping floors, until you opened a drawer full of art supplies and manuals that were basically brand new. Disgruntlement bubbles up within you, all of this wasted space and materials. Charity sounded real good right now but the sentiment they held was too much..Though the handbook about sculpting caught your eye.

It wasn't a hobby Johnny really focused on as it was time consuming and difficult despite his natural talent for art hence why he focused on drawing instead. It simply wasn't his thing, no problem with that. You spent countless hours browsing through the handbook, the guide eating your interest up. Hey, this could've been a great couple pastime for you two! Shame on him for not thinking about suggesting it to you! Although you were lucky enough that he stored the clay in such a way that it didn't dry up just yet, trying it out couldn't possibly hurt, right?

Tossing on an apron, you began sculpting away!..Well an attempt to at least, the piece continued to look..rough after a long while but practice makes perfect! Well as I said earlier, time doesn't stop for anyone, it keeps flying regardless of the fact it doesn't have a destination in mind. That's probably how you ended up practicing for days, so much so that your fellow townsfolk started getting worried sick and sent out one of the kind ladies to check up on you. And it was a lovely surprise!..Because they had a basket of goodies, who can say no to that?

“Oh dear, look at you! Everyone has been worried about you..” The lady says in relief, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your face while she looks at the state of your clay-stained clothes. Thank goodness for aprons. “Well I hope you're doing alright after your husband's passing dear, we all made this goodie basket for you!” She chirps, extending the basket out to you. Your eyes immediately lock onto the fresh baked goods, looking like you have something to devour when she turns away..

“So you know, all of us are here to help, you aren't alone in this. I’m off, I need to pick some groceries up at the store. Bye-bye!” She waves, walking along the stone path that led away from your home. A quiet ‘thank you’ falls out of your lips, hoping that she’d heard your appreciation towards her caring but totally unnecessary gesture. You step back, placing the basket aside. The pastries could wait, not this. You do appear to be a natural at this, the sculptures you've made so far aren't even half bad for a beginner..It wouldn't be too hard to make Johnny right? I mean, you know his features by heart, you could make it with your eyes closed. Probably. It doesn’t hurt to try, you have enough clay too so there’s really nothing stopping you.

[umbracirrus]

WIP Wednesday-!!!

As promised last week, this week brings fun times with a dragon for my WIP >:3 It's a bit of a long one, almost 900 words, so I'm putting part of it under a read more. It's definitely not all cutesy like last week - a bit more... I don't know. Gritty?

Tagging @hircines-hunter @skyrim-forever @friend-of-giants @moriche @oblivions-dawn @illumiera @madam-whim @pocket-vvardvark and anyone who wants to share a WIP, though obviously with no obligations to do so <3

---------

There was a tension in the air as Elyse and Lydia followed the eastern road out of Whiterun, their pace faster than that of their usual walking. Elyse had contemplated even taking Mist just to travel quicker instead of going by foot, but she didn’t know how the horse would cope around a dragon, nor did she want to put her at risk of being eaten by it. It was safer for her in the stables, for certain.

Puddles dotted the road from the recent rains, the water splashing up the boots of her armour and coating the steel with mud every time that she stepped on one. She would have tried to avoid them, if not for the fact that her eyes were firmly fixated upon the skies. She had seen the distant shape of a dragon once or twice in the general direction of the standing stone, so at the very least, it hadn’t moved on in the time it had taken Fjora to return to Whiterun, and for her to get ready and leave.

“Look!” Lydia’s voice broke her focus when she suddenly called out, and Elyse stopped in her tracks to turn to face first the housecarl, but then in the direction she had been pointing.

It was the body of Fjora’s partner, half concealed by shrubbery.

Pursing her lips together, she slowly approached the body, and had to fight back the queasy feeling which was forming in her gut as she knelt down beside him. Blood had stained the yellow fabric adorning the armour, all radiating from a single wound in his chest… and it was that wound which caught her eye.

“Fjora said that her patrol partner was killed by the dragon...” she stated when Lydia joined her in kneeling down. “That doesn’t look like an injury from a dragon. It looks like that of a blade… If it was a dragon’s claws or teeth, there would be multiple wounds, and they would be bigger...”

“You think he was killed by something other than the dragon?”

“... I don’t want to assume the worst, and that Fjora used the dragon attack to cover this up, but... It’s a possibility. Maybe somebody attacked them at the same time as the dragon, and Fjora thought that the dragon had gotten him, but…” She slowly rose to her feet, not wanting to look at the wound for any longer. “I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel like a dragon did this. And I don’t want to leave him here, but…”

“Our responsibility is the dragon. We can bring him home when we are done.”

Elyse was silent after that, but nodded in agreement. With that now playing on their minds, they began to make their way down the road once more, approaching the turn in the road which brought them closer to their destination.

A large shadow swept overhead not long after the pair had made their way past the Ritual Stone, and a chill went down Elyse’s spine as she knew for certain what it had come from. A hushed whisper of reassurance came from Lydia as she pulled her bow out, turning to try and see in what direction the dragon had gone in.

Elyse did much the same, attempting to see if there was an opportunity to shout, an uncomfortable yet wholly familiar feeling bubbling up within her – a sensation she had felt every time she had fought a dragon since the first... Paarthurnax had explained it to her once, it being something that comes with possessing the soul of a dragon. It being within their nature. The desire for power, to dominate, to win. Her mortal side kept her in check... But apparently for a dragon, it takes millennia to overcome.

A column of fire suddenly erupted from further down the mountain, near to the White River, the stream of flames mingled in within a cry of ‘yol’. Elyse ran over to the edge of the path, only stopping when she felt some loose earth crumble beneath her foot, then clenched her fists when she realised that the Thu’um wasn’t the only thing within the flames.

“It’s attacking people down there,” she whispered as Lydia made her way over to her,  “I’m going to go further down the path and shout at it. It’s almost guaranteed it will go after me when I do. As soon as it’s close enough, aim for the wings.”

Lydia nodded. “Got it.”

She sucked in a breath, then broke out into a sprint. Balgruuf’s warning about a Stormcloak camp being nestled in the mountains lingered in the back of her head, but that was far from her biggest concern at that moment in time. If she were to take too long, those people...

 Before long, she came to a halt, and turned back around to face the dragon down the mountain. She hadn’t shouted for any reason beyond calling for Odahviing in quite some time, a few months no doubt. But even with that break, she still knew exactly what to do, and a yell of ‘joor zah frul’ was directed at the beast.

A shrill roar filled the air.

[agirlandherquill]

the introducing game

a fairly new story has been haunting me recently, and i thought i'd use those ghosts to come up with something fun, something slightly different - and here it is, a little game for the world of writeblr to take part in! rules: share something about your current wip - the title, the plot, the characters, the world, or even the soundtrack! anything and everything you'd like!

and because I'm attempting to be fairly organised, I'm going to share my entry for this game in a lovely little list! so, without further ado, introducing my wip: the title: Doubtless - i'd love to be able to explain where the name came from, but i can hardly remember, except for the fact that it's a word i've always loved, and there's just something to this story that fit the definition for me

the characters:

Adalia Morelli - Adalia holds a very large place in my heart, because I like to think of her as almost a much more fearless version of myself, if I never worried about speaking my mind, if I understood myself a little better. And she is also stubbornly determined too. All she wants to do is move onto the next chapter of her life, to complete her training and spend the rest of her life as a Maiden - a position that can help people. But when her life is interrupted by a Pirate, she finds herself tested and has to question what it is that she truly wants. And to find out how little she really knows her own heart.

Lochley - only the one name, how very ominous, how almost unforgiveably arrogant - well, to me at least, that's Lochley. He's arrogant. He's charming. He's also a Pirate, and he has plans. One of which relies on Adalia. (you can assume a fairly accurate idea of how well that's going to go.) And I think, at least in personality, he's always come across to me as a man who would be like Flynn Rider, if he were slightly more tormented, and of course, also a Pirate.

the world:

the first part takes place on the sea, on a few ships, and a few different island spots all over the world

the second and third parts take place on the Glass Isle, a major point of trade and business only a few weeks by boat from Aliria - and of course it takes place in the same world as Ruin's Reprisal, and you'll catch a few glimpses of familiar details in there too (the prologue especially, but it did make me smile to write it, and I hope it makes you all smile too one day when it's out there and ready for the world to see)

the plot:

adalia's ship is commandeered by lochley and his crew, she escapes by throwing herself out of a window and into the sea

lochley dives in to save her, and swims them both to a nearby island

pirate hijinks ensue - violence, robbery, even a trip to the gallows (one of my favourite sections of the entire story)

once they finally make it to adalia's intended destination, lochley encourages her to hold up her end of a deal they made a long time ago - become a Governess in the Governor's household and find him a way past the Estate's impenetrable walls, and he will return her mother's necklace that he stole - and after that, he will walk her to where she needs to go in order to start the next chapter of her life

but being a Governess and a sort-of-spy for the most infamous Pirate in the Iron-sea is far from easy. adalia must face more dangers on land than out at sea. the Isle may promise the brightest of starts but it's not without its shadows

Adalia has to learn that sometimes the best thing to do is to steer clear of the light and shelter in the dark, for the truly good things aren't always the brightest

the soundtrack:

Ethereal by txmy and freya ridings - I can honestly say I've had this on loop while writing a few Adalia and Lochley moments

Davy Jones by hans zimmer - the inspiration for this story first came from rewatching potc1, but it was this song that left me longing for the waves myself, and it fit so much of the first part of the story that I've had it on loop an almost unhealthy amount - but hey, whatever fits the writing right?

Devil by RIELL - this song was very important for soundtracking a BIG chapter in Part Two

Love Story - Sarah Cothran - this song haunted me almost as much as the characters in this story, it was just the perfect fit for a soundtrack

one very vital fact I absolutely cannot forget to include - Doubtless will most certainly not be the last time you'll be seeing these characters. One, you'll see sooner than the other (aka Adalia, because I've already let slip - at least I think I have - that an entire parallel storyline involves her in rr2), and the other in the near future, but not too far away (writing demons and life permitting)

~ ~ ~

tag list time! open tag as always too!

@the-ellia-west @willtheweaver @tildeathiwillwrite @drchenquill @365runesofthesystem

@coffin-hopping @godsmostfuckedupgoblin @a-mimsy-borogove @frostedlemonwriter @i-do-anything-but-write

@r-u-living @thatuselesshuman @lead-to-code @sunflowerrosy @theaistired

@phoenixradiant @autism-purgatory @corinneglass @tiredpapergirl @patheticexcuseforawriter

@missmisanthrope @littlestchildofthemoon @morganxduinn @thebrownleathernotebook @rmhashauthor

@lamuradex @fantasy-things-and-such @glasshouses-and-stones @hattonthehatman @humbly-a-doppelganger

@ramwritblr @s-pendragon7 @thelastneuron @heartreactor @ihauntmyhouse

@shiningstars-world @scaewolf @just-emis-blog @joeys-piano @ramitola

@yrndrgn @riveriafalll @lawrencespen1777 @theverumproject @zackprincebooks

@justjariel @orion-lacroix @jupiter---daydreams @vinniehorrible @stars-forever

@thewritingautisticat @whatwewrotepodcast @anaisbebe @appleandsnow @urnumber1star

@chaotictravelerrants @andagii-projects @dragmewithyoutonirvana @a-bi-cat-with-books @fearofahumanplanet

@just-a-domesticated-cryptid @attemptingwriter @kitkins13 @ray-writes-n-shit

@theonewholivesinthemovies @rheas-chaos-motivation @bookwormclover @sunflowerrosy @seastarblue

[cadoodledoodleydoo]

Finally committing to sharing this massive metal man, still not 100% happy with the design but i'm not gonna mess with it anymore, he gets the job done. Feel free to hit me up with design suggestions, lore questions, thoughts, etc! All of this is still a major WIP and i love getting outside input! -- This is my AU's take on Megatron, though currently he IDs as: DSM-16

The short of it: DSM-16 is a custom designed weapon build (specifically a shoulder mounted machine gun), commissioned by Convoy Solus within Tarn (Cybertron's primary military manufacturing district) to kickstart a line of specialty combat equipment mechs meant to withstand the harsher conditions of Cybertron's wilds. The DSM-16 model was crafted with a symbiotic host system in place, allowing the weapon to be synced with an assigned wielder, allowing for more efficiency/accuracy out in the field. The long of it:

DSM-16 has had 3 wielders/hosts prior to being assigned/bonded to Ironhide. The most recent of which, Commander Cyclonus, was offlinedmurdered while on mission. DSM-16 survived the ordeal and was brought back to Tarn to receive repairs and a new host. He is far too valuable and useful to be kept on the sidelines for long.

DSM-16's superiors/creators/owners assume he has no memory/archived storage of the events that led to the loss of his previous host due to the extent of the damage he received. They are wrong. DSM-16 is unconscious and still in the early stages of self-repair when he is reassigned to a young, almost fresh off the line Ironhide. Ironhide, despite having a fairly common vehicle alt mode amongst his peers, was manufactured to have a spark that could withstand a host/symbiotic bond. He has no field experience at the time of the bonding and is eons away from being DSM's equal in experience or skill. However, Ironhide is a soldier while DSM is a weapon. As such, Ironhide holds the authority, much to DSM's chagrin.

Through centuries of ruthless, lethal, and consistent work DSM has earned himself a solid reputation within Tarn (despite what he is). He is a revered and respected piece of equipment and as this new bond with Ironhide settles he will make use of what little leeway this reputation gives him.

DSM-16 is leashed to his creators and their whims, but with a fresh naive host and a new bitter sense of resentment, he will not be leashed for long.

Some additional fun facts:

DSM's visor is required to be lowered at all times when not within Ironhide's private quarters. He is also rarely ever seen in root mode outside of Ironhide's private quarters, as is expected of equipment.

DSM was built without a mouth, instead the area on his helm is fitted with additional vents to help with temperature control and filtration. He does have a voice box, but its rarely used (he only ever talks to Ironhide, and that can be done through the bond)

DSM has his own built in smelter, forge, and fuel refinery. He is capable of processing raw energon and creating his own ammo from raw materials/metals. This means he runs very hot and needs a larger portion of fuel to keep his systems running smoothly.

DSM-16's ID is a small part of a literal identification/serial number that is attached to his spark/bio-code. His creators have redefined this portion to stand for: Defensive Shoulder Mount - 16gauge

The name Megatron will eventually come from a series of inside jokes shared between him and Ironhide, when the pair make their eventual escape DSM will choose the new name as his first step towards reshaping his identity.

Megatron is not out to fix Cybertron. He has little to no attachment or regard for any mechs outside of Tarn's boundaries. His only wish is to put the means of production into his own kin's hands, meaning other weapon/host pairs within Tarn. He wants to overthrow the manufacturers who made him, he could care less about how the other cities handle their affairs. As such, the Decepticon cause will not exist within this AU as it typically does, if at all.

[jev-urisk]

Fanart Friday: Black History Month Challenge! 🎨🎉

I'm gonna be honest here, I've been nervous to draw the Black characters in my story- I'm new to drawing in general and didn't feel like my skills were good enough to do them justice (I know, that's pretty turned around, but the mental barrier was there nonetheless 😣).

But when @creatingblackcharacters sent out a creating challenge for Black History Month and said even lovingly drawn stick figures were ok, I felt like the mental barrier moved out of the way. ☀️

So here's the very first sketches of my banshee girl Tizita from my urban fantasy WIP 7 Circles 😊

This was a great time!! I wasn't sure if I had the skill to do her hair justice but I think I did alright, and it was really fun to work on the texture! Obviously I have a long way to go, (especially with basic anatomy- oof) but in all things creative I need to remind myself that practice is what's going to get me there- I'm not going to get it perfect right away.

Some Fun Facts About Tizita! ✨️

The name Tizita is an Amharic (official language of Ethiopia) word that is akin to 'nostalgia', 'memory', and 'longing' but has a richer cultural feeling behind it (more info here). Im a sucker for names that tie into aspects of the character.

She is a banshee, and in 7C lore banshees periodically go into a hibernating state and see visions of a particular person, place, or thing which may be from the past, present, or future.

Tizita shows up in book 2, joining the protags as The Knower of Things in the party. She had her very first vision and it was a DOOZY! Almost 3000yrs of information is somehow crammed in this girl's brain.

Leading up to the hibernating and for awhile afterward, a banshees eyes and hair lighten/grey - as if the age of what they see is affecting them, or they become ghostly in their magic state. This fades afterwards, however the more you see in your vision, the less you see of the real world going forward (i.e. Tizita's eyesight is garbage now).

I want her to subvert/replace the Wise Sage character trope, who is usually an old bearded man or a woman made to seem crazy. The person turning the tide in my story is this magical autistic Black girl who likes dresses with pockets, listening to nature, and has a lot of joy in her despite the whole carrying-information-that-might-save-the-world and having-to-lecture-grown-adults-on-how-to-save-said-world thing.

For my Black followers; Not to be telling yall what you already know- but you really do deserve it all. I dont accept characters as mere checks for diversity, not for my islander or autistic characters I personally relate to, not for my Black characters even though I don't share that lived experience. Yall deserve depth! And range! And a variety of roles and traits in the characters that represent you! I intend to put in that work, and hold others to the same. Happy Black History month everyone 🎆 😊

Thanks again for the challenge @creatingblackcharacters 🫶🏼 it helped me take my first go at drawing my banshee girl.

If anyone wants to join in, I'd love to see/hear about any Black characters yall might have! 😁 But obvi no pressure 💕

@gioiaalbanoart @biblicallyaccuratefruitbat @lychhiker-writes @autism-purgatory

@cowboybrunch @zackprincebooks @smellyrottentrees @tragedycoded @the-golden-comet

@illarian-rambling @nbkuhn @ddgraywrites @desastreus @theglitchywriterboi

@shanakin-skywalker @honeybewrites @sincerelydork @the-letterbox-archives @aishwritesblog

@gioia-writes-and-others @aalinaaaaaa @leahnardo-da-veggie @asablehart +Open Tag!