#i always think i should stock it but also i only need it like 5 days a year so it seems like too much of a pain

[neolithicsheep]

I've been meaning to write this down for some time because there are some fundamental errors that people keep making in crowdfunding/sales that shoot their campaigns in the foot. So here's a list of easy principles.

Who am I and why should you listen to me? I am a freelance chaos marketer who has raised well over $100,000 when totaling up various crowdfunding campaigns, mostly for aid to Afghanistan. In addition I've managed to successfully market everything from stuffed plush koalas to hydration salts. Why am I putting this out here for free? Because despite a years long track record of success in social media marketing no one will hire me because I don't have a college degree, so I might as well help people out who can't afford to hire full time marketing. 

If you'd like to hire me to help you evaluate your marketing and sales and teach you better skills on a 1 to 1 basis then hit me up, I am often willing to barter, esp with artists in a variety of mediums! 

Anyway on to HOW TO CONVINCE PEOPLE TO GIVE YOU MONEY:

TL;DR: use positive messaging that humanizes everyone involved and make it as easy as possible for people to give you money.

1. Shame and guilt are demotivators. They will not inspire people to give you money. “Why aren't people helping” “I guess people don't care” “This isn't getting enough shares/donations” etc etc. Online fundraising is often frustrating, heartbreaking, and will make you angry, especially when there's a humanitarian crisis involved. It is critical that if you are raising funds for someone else that you have a place to vent that is not the audience you would like to donate to the cause. 

2. Use motivating messages instead! “You can help!” “Even a small donation is important because it tells Recipient they're not alone, and people care” “We can't fix the whole world, but we can make this one thing right, and that means something”. Emphasize that this is a problem that the reader can help fix with even a small effort. With items for sale, tell a story. "I drew this thinking about how safe I always felt under a tree in my childhood backyard". "I chose the colors in this shawl to remind me of sagebrush and piñon pine in my favorite place."

3. Make it easy for people to give you money. Never talk about your product or cause without a link that leads directly to where people can give you money. They should be able to click one link on your post and land at the fundraiser or your shop. Every required click is going to lose people, so minimize the number of them required. This also means if you have a list of fundraisers for people to choose from the ones at the bottom will be neglected - people will hit the ones at the top. Be sure to take those off when they're met or periodically shuffle the list around to make sure everyone gets a chance to be in the first 5 spots. In online stores people will often only look at the first page or two of items so be sure to shuffle things around and remove out of stock items that are taking up prime real estate.

4. Humanize the recipient - this can be tricksy when raising charitable aid because you don't want to be exploitative. But to use my last Afghan campaign as an example, “We need to raise $500 for an Afghan family” is less effective than “This Afghan family's home was damaged in heavy rains that caused extensive flooding. They only need $500 to repair and rebuild so they can stay in their home and not become displaced.”  If possible, tell as much of the recipient's story as they consent to. Eg “Fred is seven and loves dinosaurs. His favorite is brontosaurus, and he carries a stuffed one with him everywhere. He wants to be a paleontologist when he grows up and discover a complete brontosaurus skeleton that he can give the same name as his stuffed friend. Unfortunately he's also a trans boy living in Texas and his family needs $1500 to rent a Uhaul and get to Colorado so he can grow up in safety and do that.”

5. If you're not the recipient, humanize yourself while you're at it! “I'd be really grateful if you all could share or donate” “This fundraiser really means a lot to me because…” “Thank you so much for any help, whether sharing or donating” 

6. Treat the audience like humans. Speak to them like they are people you're having a conversation with, not ATMs. This ultimately is the goal of not using shame/guilt and humanizing yourself and the recipient. 

7. Set low goals and bump them up when met. One of the weird things about people is they prefer to give to successful fundraisers. Yeah I don't know either. So you're more likely to get the full amount you need if you set a partial goal initially and then raise it when that's met. Raise it in small increments and raise it repeatedly as those goals are hit to keep momentum going. You can't always control this so if you're boosting someone else's fundraiser you can do it artificially via asks like “Hey y'all can we get together and put $500 on this?”

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Divus Crewel - Rich Fur Coat Voice Lines

When Summoned: You're a bold mutt indeed to call for your owner like this. I'll make sure to discipline you thoroughly.

Summon Line: Stay! We'll start with teaching you how to wait. Don't think you can run around freely while I'm watching over you.

Groooovy!!: There are no shortcuts to becoming a grand mage. Put forth the proper effort, and under my tutelage, you can slowly make your way.

Home: What is it, pup?

Home Idle 1: Bring Grim to me, it's time for some needed discipline. He spilled some highly important potions... Don't you dare think he can get away from me.

Home Idle 2: I must replenish the stock of ingredients used in potionology classes. They may say that failure is a part of learning, but still, when this much material is constantly consumed...

Home Idle 3: I would have never thought I would end up employed at my alma mater. I definitely know it was not in the forefront of my mind when I graduated from Night Raven College.

Home Idle - Login: Alchemy demands skills and knowledge of a higher degree than other courses. If you wish to improve your abilities, you would do well to attend my classes without fail.

Home Idle - Groovy: What are those dark circles under your eyes? Don't tell me you stayed up all night doing your homework...? I knew it. You need to manage your time better, you little mongrel!

Home Tap 1: I am looking forward to this coming weekend much more than I ordinarily do. I should be getting some parts for my classic car that I ordered from overseas.

Home Tap 2: I don't know when Ramshackle was established. It was already in its horrid condition even back when I was a student

Home Tap 3: The fashion world is ever-evolving, and even I am sometimes reminded of my own inadequacies. That is what I love about it.

Home Tap 4: I always see to it that the freshmen in the science club fail their first experiment. Only those who have tasted defeat can truly appreciate the taste of success.

Home Tap 5: This is a custom-made coat made to my particular specifications. When you become an adult, you should also pick up something specially made as well.

Home Tap - Groovy: You've recently been doing much better in your classes. Even without the ability to use magic, you can see that knowledge is power. Good boy, keep it up.

Duo: [CREWEL]: I'll discipline them properly, Headmage. [CROWLEY]: Do be careful not to overdo it, Crewel-sensei!

[wonderjanga]

Part-time Jobs

Billy needs money, or at least more than what he currently has. So, he gets a job. Scratch that. Marvel gets a job. Marvel is now a part timer named Mark who works at a Target, a Baskin Robins, a Bojangles (I worked at one, so now he has to), and a couple other places. The stamina of Atlas is really carrying him.

Marvel and Coworker 1: *taking a lunch break together*

Coworker 1: “Wait, so is this your only job?”

Marvel: “Hm? No. Why?”

Coworker 1: “Well, it’s just that I briefly remember you saying one time about how this isn’t your only job.”

Marvel: “Ohhhhh… Well let’s see, I work here, Target, a Baskin Robins, and a Bojangles. I’ve been a bouncer at a club a couple times since a friend of mine at the Baskin Robins will let me fill in for him. And then there’s the Autozone, and the Taco Bell.”

Coworker 1: *starts growing more and more alarmed/horrified after the Baskin Robins mention* “Mark, buddy, that’s like… six— seven jobs! How do you have the time for that, one, and two you have like no one eyebags or visible exhaustion whatsoever.”

Marvel: “I clean up well…?”

Coworker 1: “That’s a bit of an understatement, pal. You look like you have a full nights rest, a good meal, and a good conscience. I’ve never once seen you drink a drop of caffeine to.”

Marvel: “Uh…”

Coworker 1: *stands on tippy toes to place a hand on Marvel’s shoulder* “Dude, are you alright?”

Marvel: *leans down so they don’t have to stand on their tippy toes* “Yes?”

Coworker 1: “You sure?”

Marvel: “Yes?? You’re making me second guess myself.”

Coworker 1: “Maybe you should, because working 7 jobs is actually insane, bud.”

This interaction honestly set Billy on edge afterwords. He didn’t really want Coworker 1 worrying over him. Especially when Billy was just trying to get that bag. Speaking of worrying there was another coworker who tended to worry about him a lot, Ms. Gertrude. She was the manager of the Target he worked at. Her worry was more that of a grandmother. She pinches his cheeks and gives him candy despite the fact that in his Marvel form, he not only looks like a grown man, she’s also half his size. He doesn’t particularly mind though.

Marvel: “Ms. Gertrude, why do you always pinch my cheeks and give me candy?

Ms. Gertrude: “You remind me of my husband.” *hands him some old lady candy*

Marvel: *extremely confused* “Huh?”

Ms. Gertrude: “Yes, Micheal, my husband. You remind me of him. So, I’ve decided you’re now my grandson.”

Marvel: “Oh uh… okay.” *doesn’t know whether to be happy or not*

Ms. Gertrude: “Yes, now go stock the toy aisle, dear.” *shooes him off*

Marvel: *scurries off to the toy aisie*

The time bubble worked in his favor, Billy supposed. Ms. Gertrude likes her 1950s to 60s not-really-grandson grandson.

Then there’s the time Flash was in town for whatever and went to the local Baskin Robins.

Flash: “I’ll take a double fudge sundae— Whaaaa…? Cap?”

Marvel: “It’s Mark.” *taps name tag*

Flash: “Your name is Mark?”

Marvel: “Well… no. But it’s my name for this job. A double fudge sundae, right?”

Flash: “Right.” *stares for a couple seconds* “Dude, why’re you here?”

Marvel: “It’s my city?”

Flash: “You know what I mean. Dude, why’re you working at a Baskin Robin’s?”

Marvel: “Money.”

Flash: “Money?”

Marvel: *nods head* “Money.”

Flash: “You know we get a salary right? Also why do you even need money in the first place? I didn’t even think you were a human.”

Marvel: *donates most of the money to homeless shelters, but doesn’t use any of it for himself cause he’s scared it’ll let them find out he’s a kid* “I did know that. I just like to eat. I work at like 5 different fast food places cause the food is delicious.” *walks to the ice cream to start making the sundae*

Flash: “How do you have the time for that?”

Marvel: *shrugs, finishing the sundae and handing it to Wally*

Flash: “I will be very much asking about this later, bud. You will be warned.”

[foldingfittedsheets]

Hi! Ive been following you for a little while but after I saw your post about discomfort and eating as a kid I wanted to ask you something

My daughter is almost 8 but she has issues with eating. She’ll have one or two bites of something and then say she’s all done. Even things we know she likes and has eaten before. The last thing I want is for her to bottle up her discomfort and not tell me but i just dont understand what’s going on with her, I have been trying things like making dinner games or saying she only needs 5 bites Ive even been trying to get ahold of a nutritionist but nothing is really working.

All that to ask, what would you have wanted your parents to do instead of making you eat what strategies do you think might have helped you not get desensitized to your discomfort?

I really appreciate any input you can give im really willing to try anything for her to start eating well and being healthy im extremely worried for her

Man…. I gotta open by saying you should check in with a doctor? If there’s something going on it’s best to get a medical professional on board. My parents did not.

For me, my issues definitely stemmed from being on the spectrum. When food was placed in front of me I didn’t have words for what was wrong. Sometimes it was texture, sometimes flavor, sometimes different acidity. It can still be hard to verbalize what I don’t like about something.

What I can usually verbalize is what sounds better. My parents tried to stock up on foods I liked. When I inevitably got sick of eating just that one thing I basically always knew what I wanted instead. It was just hard to ask for that since dinner was usually already made and it was clear that requesting different food sparked irritation or refusal.

I’d say accept a no on a food and ask if anything else sounds more appealing. If there’s not enough veggies going down find those like frozen patty veggie things shaped like dinosaurs I still love those. Any veggies is better than none or pushing ones that have been refused.

Also look into protein shakes or smoothies. Regardless of texture I can always go for liquid food and it’s a great way to get better nutrients into a kid that just wants bread and potatoes.

Try to build up a vocabulary for what’s wrong or what the kiddo doesn’t like without judgement and bring her into discussions about what’s for meals. I hope this helps and things get better.

[mothocean]

Fuck it. Steampunk era new albion tumblr

⚙️ mcallisterindustries Follow

Today is the 40th anniversary of the death of my beloved mother, Annabel Mcallister, whose passion for science has inspired me since i was a young boy. Without her, the memory of her death aching in my heart, driving me to pursue a way to bring back those lost to time, Mcallister Industries wouldn't be where it is today. To honor her memory, we are holding a 30% sale on all new doll models, and a 1+1 deal on reanimating newly dead loved ones! Call 1-DOLL-800 to find out more about upcoming sales and order your loved one's new doll body today!

5 notes

💀 voodoopunk-official Follow

We're meeting again at the crossroads tonight!! Bring your doll-ay doll-ay spirit!

- Mod B

#voodoopunk #vote voodoopunk we dance with you on your graves

704 notes

💀 voodoopunk-official Follow 🔁 averagealbioncitizen Follow

🤵 averagealbioncitizen Follow

man can these dolls play literally anything else. i keep retuning my granny's radio but it always plays that elysian night song :(((

🔁 💀 voodoopunk-official Follow

You just don't get it like we do

- mod A

1 notes

🟥 redhairedbisexual Follow 🔁 redhairedbisexual

🟥 redhairedbisexual Follow

my bro died so i have to take over the family business now :(( anyway hmu if you need anything special iykyk 😜🤙💯

🔁 🟥 redhairedbisexual Follow

update: who tf keeps stealing our stock im gonna fucking bootleg doll you

7 notes

👑 aliceinfutureland Follow

made some progress today :) the angels will be proud

0 notes

🤖 doll34221543 Follow 🔁 doll356857543 Follow

🌠 newalbionmayor-official Follow

Elysium, the silent sighed lost lullaby...

56.7K notes

💀 voodoopunk-official Follow 🔁 bi-bye-byron Follow

🕶 destroy-da-dollz-deactivated

🔁 🎩 bi-bye-byron Follow

JASPERSWEEP

🔁 👯‍♀️ dykes4dolls Follow

What a self own lmao

🔁 �� dollay-darling Follow

op did u really think people were gonna vote against the doll? On the voodoopunk website?

🔁 🕶 destroy-da-dollz-deactivated

'voodoopunk website' up my ass y'all let the power get to your head. You fucking rusty ass stoner cultists ain't gonna last here

🔁 💀 voodoopunk-official Follow

THEY DEACTIVATED HAHA GET REKT

- mod B

4,306 notes

🕶 crossroads-acolyte-deactivated

My dad's been really terrible lately... at least i have the dolls to comfort me

🔁 🕶 crossroads-acolyte-deactivated

Their song is so beautiful... if only i could join them...

🔁 🕶 crossroads-acolyte-deactivated

Elysium, the silent sighed lost lullaby

Elysian night

Read more

2 notes

🤵 averagealbioncitizen Follow 🔁 voodoopunk-official Follow

💀 voodoopunk-official Follow

With great agony, we announce the passing of one of our dear members. Mod A, also known as Acolyte Amelia, you will be missed.

- Mod B

🔁 🤵 averagealbioncitizen Follow

I KNEW THOSE DOLLS WERE PROBLEMATIC FROM THE START UGH... don't support the voodoopunks they're lying to you #killthedolls #antivoodoopunk

🔁 💀 voodoopunk-official Follow

Amelia didn't die because of the dolls dumbass you're just using her death as a means to further your stupid political agenda smh 🙄

- Mod B

🔁 🤵 averagealbioncitizen Follow

AND YOU AREN'T???

36.8K notes

🚫 destroy-da-dollz-remade Follow

I FUCKING TOLD YOU GUYS

#anti voodoopunk #kill the dolls #i fucking said it from the start but y'all didn't LISTEN

0 notes

🤵‍♀️ kate-the-nyarrator

can anyone even hear me

[ninus9607]

Falling for her - Amelia Shepherd

Hey loves

This is my first story, so I'm pretty nervous also I'm sorry about my grammar, English isn't my first language

This story takes place during the second season but there are small changes, like Derek and Addison divorced before Derek came to Seattle so Addison won't be coming to Seattle for Derek because Richard asked her to (it will be important for the plot), lexie. The storyline in my story doesn't match Grey's one.

Amelia will work as an attending with Derek, also she's not the youngest shepherd and she is younger than Derek by only a few years. Derek and Meredith are not dating because of the rule (nobody cared about that but ok

______________________________________________________________

1. New start

There was a voice on the plane telling us to buckle up because we were landing, finally, I thought to myself. Flying more than 6000 km is exhausting. After the plane landed successfully, I put on my backpack and collected my baggage. When I got out of the airport, a cold wind greeted me, it's chilly here, I should take a taxi. There were many taxis on the other side of the road, I took my suitcase and slowly walked to the other side, there were about 5 taxis parked there, which one should I choose? Never mind, I chose the first one I stood by.

"Could you take me to Queen Anne at 303 Comstock Street?"

The taxi driver just nodded, is every American so grumpy? All the way there was silence in the car, but I didn't mind, I was looking out the window and admiring the world around me the whole time. I can't believe it, I'm truly here, Seattle was gorgeous, and there were people all over the place, which was a big difference from my home. When the car stopped on my street, the driver turned to me and in a cold voice said, "It would be $40." I pulled my wallet out of my pocket, full of US dollars, to make sure I had enough money. I must have grabbed a little more than I needed since I could barely close my wallet.

I handed him a $50 bill. "You can ke-" He didn't even let me finish and grabbed it from my hand, then pointed to the door. At that moment, I felt like hitting him. I grabbed my stuff, and as soon as I reached for the door, his car quickly started and sped off.

"Dick"

I looked around to see where I was, and after taking stock of my situation I realized I was lost, fuck, I should have seen what the house looked like before. I mean, what normal person wouldn't look at the house they're buying, yeah, I didn't look. I only have his address. So I'll try to ask someone. The street was quiet, with hardly any people to be seen outside. It was probably because everyone was still at work. However, a woman was walking on the sidewalk. She looked tired, but it seemed like she was my only option.

"Sorry to bother you, miss, but can you tell me where house number 302 is located?"

She looked at me with a surprised smile. "Oh, that's the house right next to mine. You must be my new neighbor. I'm Meredith Grey" She offered me her hand in greeting. Okay, it looks like Americans aren't so bad after all. I shook her hand. "Lena Anderson, nice to meet you" My accent was a bit stronger, I still have to get used to it.

"You're not from here, are you?" I shook my head "No, I just moved here." She looked at me with an even bigger smile. "Cool, come with me. I'll show you where you live."  And with that, she takes my hand. Are Americans always this friendly? We walked for a while and then stopped in front of a pretty big house. Wow, I think I made a good purchase.

"Thank you Meredith for helping me, you saved my life."

"It's okay, I'm glad I met you. Maybe we could hang out sometime, perhaps go to a bar or something?"

"Deal," I said and waved her off, picked up my keys, and opened my new home. Wow, this house is huge!  Large kitchen, beautiful living room, 3 bedrooms, and 2 bathrooms. This place is amazing! After unpacking and enjoying a warm shower, I settled into the beautifully modern living room, complete with a large TV and a PS5. Since I was a child, I have always enjoyed playing video games. I brought my PS5 here, and it provides great fun while helping me relax from reality. I prepared my favorite fruit tea and turned on the music on the TV. I grabbed my laptop and opened my email to check for any important updates. I was eagerly waiting for news about my job and had also applied for internship programs at hospitals in Seattle. My school grades are excellent, and I have valuable work experience back home in Europe. However, I understand that this may not guarantee anything.

I've got about 30 emails popping up, mostly some ads I should clean up, I started to slowly delete them one by one so I wouldn't accidentally delete something important. until I get an e-mail from Seattle Grace Hospital. I opened it and started reading.

 "You have been accepted into our residency program"

I screamed at the top of my lungs, I couldn't believe it, it's like a miracle, I love my life. In the email, there was additional information, such as salary, hours, and more. I am supposed to start in two days, so I might as well inform Meredith. She could at least assist me in getting oriented here. I changed into something more social, grabbed my keys, and went to see my neighbor.

knock, knock

After a while, some guy opened the door. "Oh, hi? Is Meredith there?" He was a little confused, but he called out to Meredith, who came to the door.

"Hey Meredith, sorry to bother you again, but as you said we could meet sometime. If you don't have plans for tonight, maybe we could hang out?"

"Hey, Len, I was just thinking about you, join us, I'll introduce you to my friends" She led me to her living room, where I saw two other people. They looked nice.

"Everybody, this is Lena, my new neighbor. Lena, these are my friends and roommates. George and Izzie"

"Hi"

"Hello"

"Nice to meet you all." I was a little nervous, but after two hours of talking and drinking, I felt like I had made new friends. Meredith and Izzie were great, funny and George was George. Such a nice guy. But I get the feeling he's secretly in love with Meredith, he looks at her like she's a god. It is very easy to make fun of him but in a good way.

"Where do you work? Your house is huge but it must have cost a lot." George asks me

"Well, actually I bought it before I had a job"

"WHAT? ARE YOU RICH?" Izzie and Meredith shouted at the same time

"Well kind of, but now I got a job in a hospital in their program an-"

"Are you a doctor? and in seattle grace?" George quickly cut me off

"Yeah? What's the problem??"

"We work there too! me, mer, izzie and our other friends like cristina and alex"

"So, Are we colleagues?"

"YES!" Everyone in the room screamed.

"Wow, that's really impressive. Is there a bar where we can celebrate?" I asked

"Let's meet at Joe's Bar tomorrow as we always do after work." Meredith said

"If you show me where it is, we can definitely..."

I stayed at Meredith's place for about an hour and then left to go home. I changed into comfortable pajamas, sat on my bed, and picked up the book. I decided on something a little more interesting: "Haunting Adeline." (😏) I was reading for about two hours before my eyes started to close, so I put the book down, turned off the light, and closed my eyes.

AN: Wow, that was my first chapter. I apologize for every mistake, but I'm trying yk...I'm happy for every response and comment also if you have any questions, just ask. I'd be happy to answer them.

PS: By the way, if you want to read more, you can check out my Wattpad or Ao3, where my story is already uploaded.

xx

[unknown--author]

Sewing Clothes and Drinking Tea

I apologize for being gone so long, life got busy. I finished this WIP while in science class because I hate science and decided to post it.

Feedback and criticism are welcome! Just please be nice about it.

QUICK SYNOPSIS or whatever it's called: Professor Crewel and Prefect Yuu bonding over sewing and tea because of a secret influence (you'll know by the end).

CW: Yuu is anxious (probably, it's just my thought process, they might just come off as nervous), I don't know how to describe tea or sewing, this takes place before Book 5 (VDC is referenced but Yuu doesn't know what it is)

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

It's the day of my people :D

Yuu trudged toward the school store, their messenger bag shrugged over their shoulder. Ace and Deuce had torn holes into their uniforms by getting into a scrap with Octavinelle students (read: Floyd). Not only that, but Grim had a spat with Leona, tearing his bow.

Now the trio was employing the prefect to fix their clothes. Yuu sighed and pinched the bridge of their nose. They were going to end up in debt because of their idiots.

As soon as they entered the store, Mr. S was at their side, an apologetic look on his face. “I’m sorry, little devil. We just ran out.”

Yuu had learned not to question how he knew these things. Though, they suspected the shadows had something to do with it. “Really?” Sam always had what they needed in stock. “Did a delivery not come in?”

He shook his head. “No, Divus bought the last of the sewing materials. From how much he got, he’s either working on a new project or a large group of imps wrecked their clothes.”

“Oh.” The prefect clicked their tongue. Dammit, tomorrow was Monday. If Grim didn’t have his bow fixed, Crowley wouldn’t be pleased with them. And while Ace and Deuce weren’t in Ramshackle and, technically, weren’t their responsibility, Yuu would rather not let their friends down. Also, hearing Ace whine about a collar for a week sounded like hell.

“Well, little devil, I’m sure if you asked politely enough, Divus would lend you some.” Sam had obviously noticed their downcast expression.

Yuu perked up. “Do you think?”

“Yes, yes.” Sam went back to stocking behind the counter.

“Wait.” They deflated a bit. “Won’t Professor Crewel be at home? It is the weekend, Mr. S.”

"He keeps all his projects and sewing materials at his school office."

"Why?"

Sam shot a small smile their way. "He works on them in between classes and after school."

"Doesn't he have paperwork to do during those times?" Yuu asked, feeling bemused.

His small smile turned into a cheeky one. "Maybe," he shrugged.

They shook their head in amusement. "Thank you, Mr. S." They turned to leave. "I'll tell you how it goes!"

"There's no need; I'll know," Sam chuckled.

~~~~~~~~~~~

As Yuu walked through the desolate halls, some doubts filled their mind. What if Professor Crewel wasn't there? And if he was, would he listen to them? Would he help? Or would he turn them away with the flick of his wrist? The prefect was quite intimidated by the fur-coat-wearing teacher. And for good reason!

Divus Crewel had a strict way of teaching. He never stood for tardiness or horsing around. Any student who went against him would be punished severely. He taught with a whip and a terrifying glare. And last but not least, he reminded Yuu of Cruella De Vil. She had scared them shitless as a kid. With her freaky design and her intent to kill puppies and skin them for their coats, how could she not have?

They hesitated outside the alchemy classroom door. If they wanted, they could turn back now. They could buy a new bow for Grim. Ace and Deuce aren't precisely their problems, the duo have a housewarden and should know how to care for themselves.

A voice cut off their thoughts. "Come in, pup!" It called through the door.

Yuu creaked the door open at the invitation. The infamous Professor Crewel sat at a desk at the front of the room. He had a needle in his hand while fabric floated around him. "Hello, professor."

"Sam told me you were coming." The shadows seemed to dance when he said that. "What is it that you need?"

"Um, well..." Yuu looked at his forehead, avoiding eye contact. "Uh, you see, Grim and my friends tore a few stitches in their clothing and asked me to fix it up, again. I ran out of the thread and patches I needed, so I went to Mr. S's shop. And, well, you got the last of it.

"Mr. S then said that you maybe, probably, might let me borrow some of the materials?" Their rambling got quicker and quieter the more they went on.

Divus quirked an eyebrow. It was obvious that the prefect was nervous around him. It was no wonder considering his reputation with the student body. "Let me take a look at the damage those pups have done."

Yuu fumbled with their bag before pulling the torn clothing out. They walked over and handed it over to the teacher. He inspected the tears.

Most of Grim's vow was now shredded ribbons, Leona had got him good. Ace had gotten the brunt of Floyd's attack; Deuce's uniform wasn't as bad. Their clothes were torn from a force pulling at them and there were claw marks here and there.

Divus sighed. These pups were always so reckless. "I'll mend these. Pull up a chair." He waved his hand to the side, gesturing toward a seat.

Yuu immediately grabbed one, bringing it over to the side of the teacher's desk. They sat down, watching Professor Crewel work silently.

Some of the black fabric overhead floated down and scissors cut patches out of it. Magic threaded the needle for Divus. He grabbed it out of the air and began sewing the uniforms back into their proper form. The Ramshackle prefect watched in awe at the teacher's skill, but they felt a bit confused.

"Professor," they said, pulling his concentration away from his work. "Why don't you just use magic to sew?"

He sighed, expecting this question. "I don't want to build up too much blot."

"But you're making the fabrics and material float?"

"It's easier to organize them if they're not all dumped on my desk," he answered, a loud snip coming from his scissors. One patch down.

The prefect was about to ask another question but Crewel interrupted them. "Would you like some tea, pup?"

Yuu, caught off-guard by the sudden question, takes a moment to answer. "Um, yes please." After the whole Azul fiasco, they were suspicious of any free things offered to them.

Divus opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a teapot and two teacups seemingly out of nowhere. From Yuu's perspective, the drawer looked like a void. "How did you do that?" they blurted out, amazement on their face.

The teacher stifled a chuckle. "It's an enchantment so the drawer has unlimited space. I cast it back when I started teaching here." He poured tea into the two cups and pushed one toward the teen.

The smell wafted up to their nostrils. They could've died happy then and there; it smelt so wonderful. They couldn't quite put their finger on it even though it was familiar. "What type of tea is this? It smells fantastic!"

"It's a walnut and almond green tea. I had it imported from the Queendom of Roses," Divus said proudly, taking a sip before going back to work.

Yuu took a sip as well, humming in delight. "Is it specially made there?"

He nods, focusing on the needle in his hand. "It's said that the Mad Hatter drank it at his unbirthday parties. Only the people of the queendom know how to brew it."

They muttered something about Riddle and his mother before speaking again. "Hmm, green tea's quite common back home. It's easy to get; you don't need to import it from another country."

"How interesting, pup." Two more loud snips sounded through the room. Two more patches done.

After his indifferent response, Yuu goes quiet. They take a sip of their tea and inspect the cup for something to do. It was plain white with little green leaves attached to thin vines. Each leaf was different in shape and size, but still similar. As they examined the teacup, they realized it looked authentic.

"Professor Crewel, is this handmade?" They held the teacup up so he knew what they were talking about.

Snip. Snip. Snip. Three patches and two uniforms done. "Yes, this set was handmade by an old friend of mine," he said as he grabbed his magic pen. The black fabric floated back up into the air. In its place, strips of grey and white fabric dropped onto the professor's desk.

Yuu watched with fascination as Divus lined up the material meticulously. "Who was the friend?"

"A friend from college, Ansel. He actually went to RSA. We met when I was in my second year and he was in his first." He sounded nostalgic as he spoke. "We met at that year's VDC. Ansel was performing for his team while I was a costume for mine. We went all out that year," he chuckled, now sewing the strips together.

"VDC?" the prefect mumbled before shaking their head. They'll ask about what that is later. "Were you good friends with him? Do you both still talk?"

The man sighed. "Yes, we were good friends. No, I don't talk with him much anymore, pup. We still text every once in a while. Before you ask, the last time we actually talked was at his wedding." He had finished fashioning the strips into a grey and white striped ribbon. Instead of fixing Grim's old bow, he had made a new one.

Yuu quickly downed the rest of their tea before they were handed the new and improved school uniforms. "Ah, thank you, sir."

Divus nodded curtly. "You're welcome, pup. Now run along." He got right back to work mending other clothing articles.

The prefect was about to walk out the door when he called out to them. "Pu- Prefect Yuu?"

They turned around to face him. "Yeah?"

"My door is always open if you need anything." He shot them a small, warm smile.

"Okay, thank you," they said, smiling brightly back at him before leaving.

Unbeknownst to the two, a certain shadow darted out of the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam was closing up shop when a shadow appeared next to him. It looked lively as it waved its arms around and seemingly danced.

Same glanced at it every now and then, wiping the store's front counter as he "heard" what took place in the alchemy teacher's classroom.

He chuckled afterward. "I knew they'd get along!"

The shadow shook its head in response.

"Look, I know it was bad to lie to the little devil, but hey, it ended up benefitting them. Now they have someone responsible that they can rely on." The shopkeeper bent under his counter and pulled out sewing materials.

"I better go put these back now, huh?"

~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! I'm sorry for any OOC behavior and anything I get wrong about the slight mention of VDC. I haven't made it past book 4 yet. This is my second time writing an actual fic for this fandom and my first time actually posting one! On Sunday, I might post a drawing/painting that goes with this fic. I don't have my sketchbook on me right now.

Belongs to @unknown--author

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST ON TUMBLR, AO3, WATTPAD, OR ANY OTHER SITES (yes, I'm this cocky that my work could be stolen)

[homestuckreplay]

kill them with bladekindness

(page 575-586)

9/3/2009 Wheel Spin: Parent Bad :( Verdict: It’s The Background Texture

9/4/2009 Wheel Spin: Long Pesterlog Verdict: Dave Should Pester John About This

Not much actually happens in these pages, just picking things up and putting them down, so I re-read all Dave’s POV sections so far to experience his uninterrupted slow descent into puppet madness. And it was actually very enlightening and is probably a good way of re-reading for character development/analysis now that character switches are happening so regularly.

But today I was just trying to figure out how the fuck hash map works.

Dave brags to John a couple times about being a super hardcore genius sylladex user, and he’s exaggerating, but not totally lying. As well as already having his strife specibus allocated, on p.576 he does a smooth box catch after seeing the fireworks ejected out the corner of his eye, and on p.579 he shows off by intentionally ejecting and then dodging about ten shurikens. Even though there’s way easier ways he could have accomplished that – such as GENTLY GATHERING (5) the shurikens to free up card 5, then taking the box.

Except, it makes sense if we assume Dave is practicing. In the past we’ve seen Dave mess with his sylladex in his room and in the bathroom, but this is the first time he’s used it in the public areas of the house – and with the Dude Dodge and demonstrations of using different words for the same item and dealing with collisions, it’s almost like he’s putting on a performance. On p.386, he tells John: ‘you should look into weaponizing your sylladex. my bro is always getting on my case about it but man its not as easy as it sounds.’

We’ve now learned that Dave’s bro stocks the kitchen with weapons, which could be there specifically for sylladex practice. Dave’s bro, who it’s been implied also uses hash map, could have been practicing the shuriken-dodge maneuver for years, to use if he ever gets into a real fight. (Or is there a league? Is sylladex usage a sport and Dave’s bro is like a former high school football player who’s trying to train up a younger family member to relive their glory days)?

These kitchen violence pages pair well with Dave reading the Midnight Crew on p.329-331. ‘A familiar feeling stirs. That feeling is overwhelming, soul-blackening rage. It's the sort of rage that'll make a man feel totally justified in sporting an unnecessarily elaborate assortment of fancy blades’ is a line referring to Spades Slick, but Dave lives with a man who sports an unnecessarily elaborate assortment of fancy blades, so I wonder what soul-blackening rage Bro is feeling and why. It makes me think about how a hyperviolent character in a piece of media can be very fun and likeable, but that same trait in a real person, especially one you live with, is terrifying, and certainly gets different reactions from Dave.

Page 585 shows some different options for hash map point scoring, and I wonder which is most user friendly. Scrabble points is fun, but only helpful if you’ve memorized the Scrabble score system. 2-point consonants and 1-point vowels, which Dave has been using, is pretty easy to calculate numbers for, but certain cards seem like they come up a lot more than others. A short, 3-5 letter word will probably occupy cards 5 through 9, and it gets harder to fill up those low numbered cards when calculating in a hurry. The system where A=1, B=2, C=3, etc, probably solves that issue, but involves working with much bigger numbers, which (if playing TTRPGs has taught me anything) lots of people struggle with. A good hash map needs to be easy to calculate and leave items naturally well distributed among cards.

The most effective hash map, I think, wouldn't depend on function but would have a standard set of 20-30 items that you regularly captchalogue and know the values for, along with ways of retrieving them. So when leaving the house, I could have my KEYS in card 6 and use them to OPEN the front door, plus my WALLET in card 0 to EXCHANGE MONEY for goods and services, but when I go home I can switch them out for a BAKING TRAY (6) that I could use to COOK dinner, and a LAPTOP (0) to easily BROWSE the internet. (If I wanted to leave the house with my laptop, I could captchalogue it as a PORTABLE DEVICE (2) for SURFING THE WEB). Getting to know these items really well, and the ways they might be used as weapons, would probably be way easier than just figuring it out as you go.

Of course, when losing a sylladex battle, you can just hit that eject button for a near guaranteed win. It’s possible this counts as a forfeit or is just bad conduct, but with a sylladex full of shurikens it might just be worth it. ‘detect collisions,’ in this context, feels like using training wheels on a bike or those railings over the bowling lane gutters. You should do it to learn, but some assholes will look down on it, and it’s totally not allowed in competitions.

I also noted on this reread how it’s very common for Dave to have the tiny flashing exclamation point above his head when he gets a sudden shock. This might have happened once or twice with John or Rose, I’d need to reread more to check, but it’s definitely a lot more common with Dave. He could be easily startled, it could be an artistic way of showing his emotion when he wouldn’t show it on his face like other characters do, or this could be where Dave stores his unused exclamation points that he’s too cool to put in chat messages.

Finally. I love the bit on p.581 when the picture of Sweet Bro or Hella Jeff gets knocked off the fridge and slowly floats to the floor.

[thalialunacy]

[for @calaisreno 's May Shenanigans. i am apparently writing like an actual serial story here? don't ask me, i have no idea]

(1) (2) 3: familiar (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31)

You may have to come rescue us from the zoo.

Sherlock sees him texting and makes an angry noise, re-crossing his arms like it's going to underscore his point. 'Absolutely not, I am not accepting Mycroft's assistance.'

'Well,' John says, stuffing his free hand in his pocket and rocking back on his heels. 'That's handy, because I texted Greg.'

Who must be bored at the Yard, because he answers straight away. Hang on, are you at the zoo or

Only until the bobbies get here, John replies with a tilt of his lips.

He should probably be more put off by current events, but no one's bleeding and Rosie is still enthralled by every thing she sees, so he's doing all right.

Omw

Cheers

---

Rosie is two thousand percent done by the time they make it home, just absolutely toasted in every sense, including a bit of a sunburn. Good English stock, she clearly came from, John thinks as he smoothes some aloe on her little pink scrunched up face. Considering it's bloody March and the sun was barely even out.

'I know, bub, I know, just one-- There we are, that wasn't so bad, was it?' They're sat on the couch, Rosie on his lap and tucked into his arm. She shows her appreciation by pressing her sticky, snotty face into his shirt and rubbing her nose sleepily back and forth.

As her breathing evens out, John tries to resist the pull to succumb to sleep as well, but his body feels so heavy and the couch so familiar. And he doesn't have anywhere else to be, for once.

He'd been hoping, of course, that during Rosie's nap he could actually corner Sherlock and have an only mildly subtextual conversation about some things. A few things. Well, one thing.

John feels his neck get hot, thinking of Sherlock's face on their stairs last week. Trust Sherlock Holmes to be the only person to regress John to godawful teenage-style embarrassment. And then allow them to conveniently use that embarrassment to avoid any mention of the subject. John is sick of himself, and stretched under his skin with this new kind of wanting, and he had planned to take care of it tonight, on their rare genuine day off, with Rosie content and asleep.

But Sherlock is still at the station, surely arguing with Lestrade about something or other. John had fucked off as soon as he could: Greg has a soft spot for Rosie -- everyone who meets her does, obviously, and John's not biased at all, thanks -- but Lestrade is also a father, so he'd booted them out right quickly.

John makes a mental note, just before falling asleep, to buy him a pint soon.

---

When he wakes up, it's because a small plush tiger has been placed on his shoulder. 'What the--' he starts, but he gets shushed-- of course he does-- by Sherlock.

'No, don't move, you'll wake her.'

John grunts in protest, but obeys; it so happens that he doesn't really want to move, anyway. 'I presume this is a gift for her, not me.'

'Yes.' Sherlock has his hands clasped behind his back, a habit John hasn't seen in a while. 'Is it-- Sufficient? I know I should apologise for what happened today.'

John assesses his face, then sighs, grabbing the plush toy and re-settling it against Rosie's warmth. 'You can't always redeem yourself with a nice gesture.'

'Nonsense, I can't redeem myself with any gesture whatsoever. I'm giving this to her because I--' He stops. 'Have great affection for her.'

He ducks his chin, and John feels a surge of warmth in his chest. He rides it like courage. 'For her, eh?'

Sherlock's eyes snap to his. 'I don't--' His mouth closes without finishing. John waits, heart thumping. 'She is my god-daughter, afterall.'

John exhales, then gathers up his child and stands. 'She needs some attention--' (their code for nappy changing) '--Then we'll come down for some supper. Will you be joining us?'

Sherlock's eyes rove around his face, searching. 'I don't think--'

But before he can say what it is he doesn't think, there's a crash from downstairs.

TBC

[ <3 ]

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

Hello!

So I started watching ROTTMNT a few weeks ago despite my only exposure to the Ninja Turtles being a single scene of a 90's live-action movie when I was maybe 5 because the turtles started repeatedly appearing in my dreams, and my brother informed me this was the universe telling me I need to watch the turtles.

In any case, I have now become hyperfixated. Could I request platonic ROTTMNT turtle boys with a reader who is a biting insect magnet? It doesn't matter if the bug usually feeds on humans or not, the reader's blood is, for whatever reason, sweet, sweet nectar to all manner of biting insects, to the point that even max strength bug repellant doesn't always work to keep the bugs away; so reader is always getting bitten up by all nearby biting insects. To make matters worse, reader is mildly allergic to the itch juice bugs inject when they bite, and gets huge, swollen, itchy rashes from bug bites that itch for several weeks. (Reader is also an avid herper—someone who enjoys catching and releasing wild reptiles and amphibians, a passtime that involves being out and about where bugs are going to be at the times they are most active.)

My first experience with tmnt was the 2012 series when it first came out, I was like 7ish. Didn't Really get into the fandom though untill recently!

Raphael, Leonardo, Donatello and Michaelangelo x reader who's catches lizards and is allergic to bug bites

Raph

★ Whoo boy. He is so scared that you are going to get bitten by a oozesquitoe. It's not even funny. Anytime you're remotely near one he's pulling out Donnie's emergency hazmat suit (More on that later)

★ He urges you to where long sleeves and pants when you go out. Actually really likes the lizards that you catch. His favorite lizard native to New York is the coal skink because it looks a little red in the right lighting.

★ Raph's worried about your health, but that's just how he is. He will always be a bit worried about your health. Its actually pretty sweet. But please put a bandaid over the bigger bites so that he doesn't fret.

Leo

★ Leo, being the ever so intelligent person he is, decides that you're the perfect bait to catch oozesquitoes. Fortunately he is quickly shut down by his brothers the moment he voices his clearly perfect idea.

★ He keeps more than a few bottles of benadryl around the lair. Allergic reactions to bug bites wasn't something he knew about before meeting you. He's well stocked for whenever you get attacked by bugs.

★ Yes, he tried to cut a mosquito in half with his ōdachi. No, it didn't work. His weapon got stuck in a log because he put to much force into the swing.

★ He might get a little jealous over the lizards. Especially if you start talking to them. "look at you, handsome little guy!" And "oh, you have beautiful coloration" all prompt his jealousy. "Why don't you talk to me like that :'("

Donnie

★ Your blood seems to be irresistible to blood-eating insects, bug spray or not. His quite perplexed by the whole situation. Are you sure you used bug spray and not sunscreen?

★ His fear over you getting bitten by an oozesquitoe mixed with his tendency to plan things out in advanced led him to make a emergency hazmat suit for you in the turtle tank.

★ The amount of times he's had to put calamine lotion on you because you had gotten bit by bugs is way too high. To be blunt, he thinks you should stop trying to catch random lizards. Or at the very least cut down on it.

★ But then again, the look on your face when you catch a lizard and show him it is really cute. Especially when you explain to him what species it is and where it likes to hide during the day.

Mikey

★ Knows next to nothing about lizards, which is surprising because he's a reptile. If you have any books on wildlife he would like to borrow them to read up on New York's reptile population.

★ When you get bad allergic reactions he brings you to Leo. He would carry you but he probably can't because he is smol. Mikey loves animals but he doesn't love mosquitoes because of the effect they have on you.

★ He joins you whenever you try to catch lizards. Mikey loves to give the lizards you catch different names. Whenever you go out he brings a jar of dehydrated mealworms for whatever creature you catch.

[emeryleewho]

My post about the mess that is trad pub editorial is going around again, and a lot of people are asking "so should I go indie or go trad?" and the answer is *it depends on what you're looking for*.

[I'm referring to "indie" here meaning self-pub and "trad" meaning a publisher, though most small publishers will lean closer to self-pub in terms of distribution and whatnot]

This has always been the answer, but the reasons behind it have changed a lot. People used to say "go indie if you want full control, go trad if you want someone else to handle everything else for you". This is only partially true. Even if you go trad, unless you are part of a handful of heavily supported titles, you will be doing *a lot* yourself. From editorial (I know people who were advised to hire freelance editors or sensitivity readers on their own because the publisher wouldn't do enough) to cover art (I know people who had to walk their publisher through getting them a decent cover) to cover copy (*I* had to rewrite the jacket copy for both of my books because the first attempt was inaccurate) to marketing, odds are, even in trad, you will be doing A LOT of the work yourself, but with more barriers because you don't *own* the print rights and can't stop the publisher from doing things you highly disagree with.

So what's the benefit of trad? DISTRIBUTION. If you are trying to put out the best possible book, I stand by the fact that indie authors have the ability to make *a way better product* than trad can because they can set their own timelines, make sure things are accurate to the book because things aren't being subdivided into so many overworked departments that haven't even read it, and cater to what works best rather than what seems the most profitable. The only limit for an indie author is the time and money they're able to invest into it, but once those things are present [and you can decide how much of each are needed for your book], they have significantly more potential than the average Big 5.

But indies lack *distribution*. There is still a lot of stigma against indie books that prevent readers from picking them up or lead to readers deprioritizing them when reading or writing harsher reviews. Many libraries, bookstores, etc. can't or won't stock indie books, and a lot of professional events bar indie authors from attending. This means that even if an indie book is flawless, they will inherently be gatekept out of places like Barnes & Noble, won't be present on cataloguing websites the industry relies on like edelweiss, etc. etc. This doesn't mean that indie books have *no* distribution, but there are massive financial barriers to entry when doing it alone, and even when you are doing the same marketing/promotion/networking/etc., that work goes significantly further when booksellers/librarians/etc. will go out and stock your book vs. when most will have to turn you down for one reason or another.

So to make this simpler, I think going indie is better for *the book*. It gives you the ability to put more time and effort into it, to ensure it meets your vision, to sink your love into it without having to boil out its uniqueness in favor of mass market profits. It also gives you the room to make sure the quality is up to your standards from editorial to formatting to cover design to quality of the print run. You don't have to cross your fingers and hope your publisher doesn't fuck it all up with AI or by working your team to death. You also get more knowledge about what is happening with your book (big pubs often withhold important information or straight up lie), which means you can coordinate more effective marketing campaigns than you would if say, your publisher decided they no longer cared to market your book (which happens for most books). Finally, publishing likes to do a two-month book lifespan, meaning most books stop getting any sort of in-house support two-months after release or earlier. If you want your book to stand a chance of finding an audience slow and steady (as in, the organic way books spread), you won't get that with trad pub.

However, trad pub is better for *the audience*. If you're writing for kids or teens especially, it will be VERY difficult to reach them going indie because indie thrives mostly on ebook sales and eretailers, which minors have less access to. Getting an indie book into schools and libraries is hard if not borderline impossible, and that is how most books reach kids and teens. On top of that, you likely won't reach most indie bookstores, most libraries, and won't be allowed at many conventions and events (even if you pitch yourself), which will limit who you can reach to people who readily shop online and use social media. There are many access points in getting your book discovered that, even if you *had* a large sum of money, would be denied to you by virtue of being indie. This makes discovery harder (even beyond marketing) and means that even people who *actively want your book* may not be able to get it if it's not distributed to their country, a store they can access, their library, etc. If you're writing to reach a wide audience, something that you think is educational, or that really serves an under-served demographic, trad makes it much more likely you will actually reach those people.

Now, obviously this is just my two cents. You can choose to go trad or indie for literally any reason, even just because you like the idea of getting published by a Penguin. I don't care. People's experiences also vary, and you could be that super lucky 1% who gets doted on and everything is handled for you. This is just a big picture summation of what I tend to see for the average, midlist or quiet title. But trad is notoriously opaque and a lot of people don't realize the advances indie has made in the past 5 years and also don't realize how any of this stuff works behind the scenes, so here's some info from your local hybrid (I do both) author. And if you found this helpful, consider checking out my next book, which is now funding on Kickstarter until Oct 12th.

[butterfly-writer]

Hello! Can you do a part two to the Aizawa fic where the merchant reader accepts and moves on, and then a few years later he barely recognizes aizawa when they see each other again? Thank you!

Troubles Coming Back

Street!Rat!Aizawa x Merchant!Male!reader [Aladdin AU] Summary: Years went by without a hitch. Y/N had gone his separate way, forgetting Aizawa and getting caught up in all his traveling and selling work. When he came back from a long trip after his quarrel with Shota Aizawa 5 years ago, he was unexpectedly robbed. Who’s the robber?

★☽A/N: Oooo! This will be interesting! I didn’t exactly plan to have this to have a part two so I will try my best!

Contents: SLIGHT ANGST - FLUFF

════❖════

“Y/N! It’s so great to see you!” A black-haired woman greeted the H/C-haired man with a smile and open arms. Y/N smiled gleefully and embraced Jasmine in a tight hug. “It’s been too long! You didn’t even write a letter!” Jasmine laughed.

Y/N also laughed in response. “I know, I know! I’m so sorry!” He apologized. The rest of the day was spent talking about their life while the other was gone.

The 36 year old man was shocked to hear that Jasmine had married Aladdin, a streetrat. But it made sense to him after she explained the whole story from her perspective and from Aladdin’s. He had to admit, the topic about Aladdin made him think about Aizawa…

He couldn’t believe it… He missed him?

The memories of how they ended things flooded his mind. He had shivers down his spine just thinking about it. He wished he hadn’t said all those things to Shota.

Though, it was too late to go back from what he said all those years ago.

════

He was taking a stroll in the marketplace. He wanted to buy some things that he needed for his next trip next year, like ink and paper. It was safer to prepare objects such as that since it might increase in worth when it is less in stock and more in demand.

Y/N had lovely talks to familiar faces who were glad to see him after all those years. He was quite shocked that they still remembered him. L/N had a bad reputation as a kid, always running around and giving people death glares.

The only people who actually liked him when he was still a child and teenager were the old librarian, the king, Jasmine, Aladdin, and…

Shota.

He stopped in his tracks.

He couldn’t believe he was thinking about Aizawa again. After all these years, he didn’t expect himself to think back to his quarrel with the black-haired man.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance.

The H/C-haired man did not want to think about the man anymore. All he wanted to do was to work on his work and not to work on his past broken relations. Everything that happened 5 years ago, should stay in the past, not in the future and bothering him with guilt.

“Y/N!” The man turned to find Aladdin, dressed in much more cleaner clothing than he last saw him in. He couldn’t help but snicker. “Can’t believe you’re wearing cleaner clothes! Hah!!” He laughed. Aladdin laughed along, patting his back like he used to do.

“Now, that’s just mean!” He laughed back.

The pair ended up talking about their lives when the other wasn’t present, just like Y/N did with Jasmine. Suppose the two of them were too loud, because some passersby looked at them with strange looks.

Later, Aladdin had to do something else so he said his goodbyes to Y/N and walked the separate way.

════

Finally, he ended up finishing up his shopping and got what he needed. It was all in his traveling bag.

He was walking past the alley, bright with street lights. Y/N definitely wasn;t expecting his bag to be taken away from his bag in one swift move by a passing person. But he was quick with his instincts and grabbed the bag before it was out of view.

His action caused the robber to stumble back and fall to the ground. Y/N wore his bag again and bent over the fallen robber. He wanted to memorize the face and dragged the robber to the police to report him for the thief.

He took a closer look at the face and entire look.

Long black messy hair, half of it was tied in a messy bun. Sharp cat eyes with dark circles under, black eyes staring right back at him. A dark scruffy goatee on his chin that seems to be maintained well. A single scar across his right cheek, underneath his eye.

“Shota..?” Eyes widened and mouth agape, he looked over with shock. The dark-haired man was also shocked to see a familiar face. “Y/N! I didn’t realize it was you–” Aizawa rushed to say his words, trying to pick himself up.

Y/N gave him a hand and pulled him right back up. “I nearly didn’t recognize you! Your hair gotten longer!” Y/N smiled. He didn’t even realize how much he missed his hoarse voice. He always found it annoying back then, but now… he had a whole different feeling about it.

Aizawa blushed at his comment. “Yeah… It’s a bother to cut it..” he answered, twirling a strand between his fingers. He couldn’t believe that he was seeing Y/N again! Last time he saw him, he looked messy. Now, Y/N looked much cleaner. He looked mature and wise.

The two of them just stood there in silence. In their heads, they had no idea how to talk to each other. Afterall, they end things in a heated arguement.

With a deep sigh, Shota turned to Y/N with a frown on his face. “Look,” He took a step forward. “I’m really sorry for how things ended. I know it’s too late to say this, but– I love you and I’m so sorry I said all those words to you. I never mean to say them, they just came flooding out-”

He was suddenly pulled into a deep and passionate kiss. His eyes wide and his back arched as he was pulled into a kiss by his past lover. His eyes closed and his hands rested on the side on his neck and on his hip.

The two of them pulled apart, a long string of saliva connecting the two of them, their faces flushed and colored a deep red. Shota didn’t realize Y/N was crying until a few drops of water feel to the ground. He looked up at Y/N’s pitiful face.

His eyes were staring at the ground, tears flooding his vision and falling to the ground like rain. His whole body was shaking and hiccups and sniffles could be heard from the older man. “Hey, hey–” Aizawa lifted his head with his hand, revealing his bloodshot eyes from how much he was crying.

“I’m so sorry we ended things like we did. I didn’t want to say all those things– I swear, I-I didn’t mean to!” Aizawa slowly shushes him with a soft smile. “You shouldn’t apologize. I know life must’ve been hard on you.” He pressed his forehead against L/N’s, trying to soothe him.

The two of them ended up staying in that position for a long period of time.

Both relieved the other still loved them just the way they are. Just like old times.

════❖════

★☽A/N: HAHA, I’m not so good at making endings!! Let’s just hope this one goes well!

[not-a-space-alien]

Tinytopia Chapter 5: Endless Rebirth (Part 1)

Story Masterpost

On AO3

Thanks to my beta/sensitivity reader @appelsiinilight!

In this chapter: Marcy starts to refocus her efforts on life at home, just in time to receive yet another visitor.

Warning: This chapter features a dog mauling that goes slightly above the intensity usual for this story.

***

Out in the park, a young borrower wobbled through the grass.  Dirt stuck to his fur and under his fingernails, and he wandered around lost until a tree nearby turned and bent over to scrutinize him through the knots in its trunk.

“Oh, hello?” the borrower said, backing up nervously.

You seem lost, whispered a voice like wind creaking through branches.  What are you doing here?

“I don't really know,” the borrower said.  “Sorry.  I'm all alone, though.  Hey, what are you?  You're the only talking tree here, I think.”

The tree creaked and swayed for a moment. Then: I am a dryad, and I think I know where you should go.

***

Marcy’s first act as a full-time housekeeper was to take stock of everyone who was already in the house.  They’d been managing mostly fine without her, but Moon was right.  There were more little creatures running around, and if this was going to be Marcy’s main focus, she could spend her time thinking of ways to make life here better for them.

Thistle had always known Marcy was smart, but he was awed to see her in action.  She was a bundle of nerves, of course–she always was–but now that her attention was fully on things here at home, it became obvious just how passionate she was and how hard and quickly she worked.  It seemed like her failed PhD program was forgotten almost instantly.

The first step was to help Thistle, who also seemed similarly overwhelmed by everyone new showing up, make his guest book.  It was a large book for Thistle’s standards, but small for Marcy–the size that a human could write in it, albeit with some difficulty, and allow plenty of room for denizens with tinier hands to write without being overwhelmed.  It was a good compromise–and Marcy got something from the craft store that would be a bit sturdier than a notebook, a bound book with blank pages and a cover ready for decorating.  Thistle put off ramping up his sellable art projects for just a bit to decorate it.  It didn’t take too long.

Then he went around and made an entry for everyone.  Marcy at the same time made a note of their wants, needs, and habits, in case she could spot anything that could be coordinated or made better for everyone.

Thistle insisted Marcy be on the first page.  Then the other humans: Teddy and Colin.  They were here first, so might as well go in chronological order.

Teddy and Colin were the owners of the house, so it was important to make sure they were okay with everything going on.  Well, Colin was the owner of the house, but he mostly cared about using the house to make Teddy happy.  Both of them had been pretty gracious about everything, but Marcy would still need to ask permission for major changes.  They worked alternating schedules, sometimes on the weekends and sometimes off on weekdays.

Mochi was put in the basement when none of the humans were home–that was just for safety.  Marcy’s continual presence there would be good for her, too–the cat would have to spend less time locked away meowing mournfully to be let out, since Marcy could make sure she didn’t pose a threat to any of the tiny creatures.

Then there was Thistle, of course.  He was the star of the show, in Marcy’s opinion.  He was usually awake at 9 or 10AM until about midnight.  He slept either in Marcy’s hand or, more recently, he’d taken to sleeping with Moon on the desk or nightstand in Marcy’s room.  He alternated, wanting to sleep with them both but knowing Moon wasn’t comfortable sleeping on top of Marcy yet.  He spent most of his days in the living room: his art supplies were on the floor, his little painted castle with his clothes and knickknacks was there, and he could hop up on the couch to watch TV when he wanted to.  He made paintings and drawings and clay figurines and sold them all online.  He had his silkworms there, too, for petting and taking their silk and the occasional snack.  He would practice flying when he had someone to help him–which would be a lot more often now that Marcy would be home basically full-time.

Jewel, of course, spent all his time in the fish tank.  He’s been warming up to socializing more, albeit slowly–very slowly.  He was free to keep his own schedule, although he was mostly limited to sleeping at night when no one was in the living room with him to keep him awake.  Sometimes Colin would talk him into letting himself be scooped up and taken out for various social activities–Colin was really the only one he trusted to do that, although he was starting to open up to Marcy and Teddy a bit more, too.

Violet and Petunia had been given permission from the humans to live in the walls and very rarely came out–they were by the far the most introverted members of the household.  When Thistle wanted to get ahold of them, he usually walked over to this little crevice in the dining room baseboard, stuck his head in, and yelled for them.  If he did that for long enough, it would summon Violet eventually.  He had managed to get them to come to a few social gatherings, but never for very long at a time.  Violet always acted like she had places to be and important things to be doing, although maybe that was just because she was jittery, in more or less constant motion.  Petunia always loved coming out, although even she would start to obviously lose her stamina for socializing after two or three hours and start to nod off.

Severa spent most of her time occupied with whatever activity Thistle was doing, seeing him as her main source of nourishment now that she no longer hunted and relied on their bond to sustain herself.  She didn’t seem to have any strong preferences about socializing or activities, just sort of letting herself be subjected to whatever everyone else around her wanted to do.  The only exception was when Petunia came out, because she prioritized fawning over the baby above everything else.  She spent most of her time in the wooden house Thistle had helped her put together and decorate, which was on the living room floor beside his own.  Every time anyone gave her a gift she did not know how to properly use, she simply put it in there, so that she had a sort of miniature treasure hoard that she slept in like a dragon.  But she’d also stuffed the wooden house full of fluff and blankets to make it a proper nest.  Thistle could tell it was because she was half-hoping it would host an egg or a child someday, but for now it made it very cozy for Thistle to sit in with her when he felt like it.  He was getting more comfortable around her–he wasn’t scared to sit in her coils anymore, having complete confidence she wouldn’t attack him.

Moon kind of wandered around.  They were sure to always keep a window cracked open for him, so he could visit without feeling trapped in the house.  He vanished into the night outside sometimes, but he spent a lot of time bathing in the moonlight on a windowsill or roof.  Thistle kept asking him not to go out and seduce anyone else and Moon assured him he wouldn’t, just that he was often seized by wanderlust that he needed to get out of his system.  He complained endlessly about the light during the day, but he’d shifted to more of a half-diurnal, half-nocturnal schedule to spend more time with Thistle.  He made himself at home wherever he happened to be–and spent more time than not hanging around Thistle–but apparently felt no need for a house or nest to call his own.  He had his magical shrinking wardrobe that seemed to carry every possession he thought worth keeping.

And now Marigold and Córva were here.  Marigold was healthy enough that it was probably okay to leave him alone, but Thistle was still loath to leave him for any long amount of time.  He spent most of his time in the living room next to Thistle’s house, passing his time doing the exercises the vets recommended for him, writing in Pixish or drawing, watching TV, or reading on Thistle’s phone–Thistle had convinced him to start learning English, although he didn’t seem to be very excited for it.  They’d set up a baby gate to keep Mochi out of the room–Marigold was clearly afraid of her, although she’d shown no major signs of aggression around him.  Córva hung around outside, mostly in and around the lovely little birdhouse Colin had built for her, and she would swoop down to meet Marigold whenever Thistle wheeled him outside.  Teddy brought birdseed out for her, which she always ate happily, though she didn’t seem dependent on it, thankfully, since she was still a wild bird and could come and go as she pleased. 

That just left Trilloras, the social-phobic dryad.  Planted out in the yard.  Thistle had stood by her sapling and begged and pleaded for her to come out over and over again, but nobody ever got any response from her.  Marcy was starting to think maybe she’d imagined the whole thing, but Thistle and Moon always confirmed they’d seen Trilloras, too.

He really wanted her to sign the guest book, though.

“Come on,” he whined, lying out in the grass.  “Just for five minutes.  I won’t tell anyone!”

No response.

“You’re living in our yard, you know!”

No response.

Thistle groaned and rolled over.  Marcy retrieved the guest book from where it lay in the grass beside him.  “We could just try again tomorrow, hm?”

Thistle kicked his feet.  “Why won’t she just come out, though?  Ugh!”

Marcy scooped him up.  “Come on, if she doesn’t want to sign it, she won’t sign it.  It’s not the end of the world.”

Thistle crossed his arms and let himself be ferried back towards the porch.

Marcy smiled at him.

“What?”

“I just think you’re cute.”

Thistle blushed to the tips of his ears.  “What am I doing that’s cute?”

“You have so many friends back in the house, but you’re stuck on making one more out here.”

Thistle crossed his arms.  “It’s just not right that she’s in our yard and won’t talk to me.  Right?”

“Just be patient.”

Marcy stopped.  There was a borrower on the steps.  Looking up at Marcy with ears twitching and tail lashing.  He was young, fresh, and bright-eyed.

“Oh, hello!” Marcy said, keeping her voice low.  He must be new. She'd never seen him. That was a different one, right? “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.  Do you know Violet and Petunia?”

The borrower rubbed his hands nervously.

Thistle leaned over Marcy’s hand, peering at the unknown borrower curiously.  “Do you speak English?”

His mouth struggled to form words, then he nodded.  “Yes,” he said bashfully.  “I’m just shy.  Sor-sorry.”

“It’s okay.”  Marcy knelt down, letting Thistle off into the soft grass.  “It’s great to meet you.  What’s your name?  I’m Marcy, and this is Thistle.”

The borrower clambered down the stairs, hoisting himself with his strong arms.  “My name’s Jax.”

“It’s great to meet you.  Do you need something?”  Obviously it would be fine if he didn’t–Marcy would be excited about any magical creature staying here for any reason at all–but since borrowers seemed so shy, it felt… odd to see one approach so openly and directly, and with no apparent goal, as a complete stranger.

Jax stopped by Marcy’s shoe.  Thistle gave little jumps of excitement but said nothing.

“A dryad told me this is a place where lots of different magical creatures live in peace,” Jax said.  “Even predators.  Is that true?”

“Yes!” Thistle shouted, excited.  “Yes, it’s so true!  You can come live here, too!”

Marcy turned back towards Trilloras’s tree.  “A dryad told you that?”

Jax followed her gaze.  “A dryad far away.  Is that a dryad too?”  His tail swished excitedly.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t want to come out and talk,” Thistle said sourly.  “You talked to a different dryad?’

Jax nodded.  “And she said everyone lives in peace here, even predators! I wanted to see it for myself.  A bunch of different kinds of creatures living together! Even predators!”

How would a second dryad have known about their house, and why would it have told this random borrower to come here? It was... strange. Confusion overtook Marcy's excitement briefly.

“You’re welcome to see it!” Thistle cheered.  He didn't seem to care about the details much at all, too excited about the paradise they were building. “Yes, yes!  Come on inside!”

“Er, we just met Jax,” Marcy interjected, noting Jax’s demeanor.  “I don’t know if he’d be comfortable coming inside just yet.” And this whole thing felt...fishy.

Jax nervously swished his tail.

“We could bring someone out here to meet you,” Marcy said.  She had all day, after all.  She could bring Severa and Moon and Jewel and Violet out one at a time and just watch them all talk.  The thought made her giddy.  This was so much better than a PhD program.  “Did you want to meet… A predator?”  He’d sounded so excited about it.

Jax nodded.  “That sounds lovely!”

“Okay.  Wait right there.  Thistle, wanna come so you can translate?”  There was still a bit of a language barrier between Marcy and Severa, although they’d both been working to close it.  But best not to have any misunderstandings.

Thistle nodded, and Marcy picked him up.  “Okay.  Wait right there, Jax.  We’ll be right back.”

Marcy went inside and found Severa upstairs, looking out the second-story window.  “Who were you talking to?” she asked.

“There’s a new friend!” Thistle said.  “Another borrower!  Do you want to meet him?”

Severa flicked her tongue out.  “Yes, as long as he also wants to meet me.”

“He does!” Marcy said.  “He…”

She trailed off, because something caught her eye out the window behind Severa.  Oh no.  Oh, no.  Buster, the neighbor’s dog, was trotting right towards their front yard.

“Shit!”  Marcy dashed away immediately, leaving Thistle and Severa in the dust.  She leapt down the stairs as fast as humanly possible, nearly falling if not for the bannister.  She threw the front door open just as Buster started to bark.

Jax was standing in front of the dryad sapling, examining it while biting his finger.  His ears swiveled as he heard the dog rapidly approaching.

Apparently Jax did not possess very good survival instincts, because he turned to face the dog barreling towards him with its mouth open and teeth exposed–and did nothing.

“Shit!” Marcy shouted, sprinting over.  “Jax, run!”

It was too late.  Buster reached the borrower and snapped his jaws around him.  The tiny, furry body disappeared with a pained, high-pitch squeak.

“Buster!” Marcy shouted.  “Drop it!  Fuck!  Drop it!”

She tried to reach out to grab his collar, but he dashed away from her like they were playing a fun game.  “Drop it!” Marcy screamed. The image of Jax’s body disappearing into that maw was burned into her brain.

After an agonizing minute of chasing him in circles as his tail wagged, Marcy finally managed to catch his collar.  “Drop it!  Drop it!”  Tears streamed down her cheeks, blurring her vision, but she refused to let go or give up.  She forced Buster’s head towards the ground.

Buster finally opened his mouth and let the drool-covered bundle drop into the grass.

“Shit!” Marcy said, seizing Jax immediately.  His body ragdolled in her hand, and oh God, there was so much blood.

She clutched him to her chest and went back inside, slamming the door.

***

They made an emergency call to Lalitha and Jaden, but it was obvious Jax was dead on arrival.  Thistle tearfully pressed his ear to Jax’s chest to listen for a heartbeat.  Severa checked his pulse and smelled him over for signs of life.  Moon tried what healing magic he had, but the borrower’s body was so ravaged by the dog’s enormous teeth that he’d probably died more or less instantly.

Colin blew his lid when he found out what’d happened.  He stormed to the neighbor’s house immediately, and the volume of his shouting at her could be heard even all the way from Marcy’s bedroom.  He couldn’t very well say that Buster had murdered someone, though–so he settled for saying Buster had killed a small animal Marcy had been fond of, which wasn’t exactly a lie, and that this was the last straw and if he saw Buster loose on the lawn again, he was going to call animal control.

The neighbor promised to keep a closer eye on the dog, then got away from him as quickly as possible.  Colin was still fuming when he got back to the house.

He decided it was finally time to put up a fence. Their property was big enough that they couldn't really fence in the whole thing, but Colin had enough handyman know-how to put up a fence at least around the immediate vicinity of the house. Chainlink was the perfect option, since it'd allow small creatures to slip through but block bigger ones.  The humans all had to pool together their money to get the funds for it, but they all agreed it needed to be an immediate priority.  Marcy still walked around looking shellshocked, and she constantly stayed in the same room as Thistle, hovering protectively.

Not even Violet had any success getting ahold of Jax’s family or friends, so they buried his body in the backyard and had a little funeral themselves.  Marcy set up a little grave with a headstone, and they all stood around looking very solemn.

“A damn shame,” Teddy said.  “No little critter deserves that.”

“Yeah…” Thistle said.  He was crying mightily.

“Does anyone want to say anything else?” Marcy said.

“Um,” said a small, unknown voice.  “I could.  Who are we mourning?”

All eyes fell on the new voice–which was–

It was Jax.  Just standing there at his own funeral.  He looked just as fresh and bright-eyed as a few hours ago before he’d been mauled to death.  Not even a tear in his clothes, or a hair out of place.

Marcy blinked at him.  “Uhhh-”  She looked from the grave to the new Jax, as though trying to figure out how he might have crawled out of the little shoebox coffin they’d made him.  But no.  He’d clearly come from a different direction, approaching while they were all looking at the grave.

“You're dead,” Severa said bluntly.

Jax blushed.  “Um, no, I'm just fine.  See?”  He did a handstand, tail wiggling in the air.

“Hey, uh, Jax…” Thistle said.  “You're not… actually a borrower, are you?”

Jax inverted himself upright sheepishly.

***

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[uraharasandals]

more girl food just dropped, enjoy teehee

but yes, I got carried away with making Aventurine as slutty as possible (again) :D In all seriousness though, I really really think this man would look amazing in thigh highs and a skirt, no I do not make the rules

Ratio is slightly OOC here, but as always, they love bickering with each other until he loses his patience <3 oh, I also added more….lore detail after that trailer drop (which, like, wow Mihoyo that was amazing), but only slightly. Anyways, hope you enjoy the ride ;) The ending is a little ambiguous, so if anyone wants a sequel do let me know

pairing :: dr. ratio x aventurine word count :: 3.2k warnings :: r18/nsfw content (minors don't interact pls), unprotected sex, aventurine is a huge whore and wears 1) a skirt 2) a garter 3) thigh highs 4) panties 5) a plug, praise kink, subspace, overstimulation, bickering, bratting (aventurine is the brat), teasing, aftercare, mild ooc ratio, written before 2.0 update

DON'T PLAY WITH FIRE (I LOVE BEING BURNT)

Many people say Aventurine is beautiful. Or at the very least, pretty. Pretty is a good word, he thinks, because it's not so serious, not so heavy of a word as 'beautiful’, which seems to have an unhealthy association with tragedy. It's casual enough to toss around without any implications or baggage, and it rolls off the tongue easily enough too. Fitting for someone like him, who prefers no fuss, no baggage, no attachments, nothing. Just the glamour and blinding lights, completed with a splash of music, and the illusion is complete. So many sparkles that no one gets close enough to pick him apart or even try to analyse him, which works perfectly well. 

After all, when you're mesmerised by the exterior, why would you even think of the interior? 

But Ratio begs to differ. Perhaps Aventurine prefers it that way, and he would've complied and let him be, had he not been allowed a glimpse of…the other Aventurine. 

Equally as beautiful, luckily not associated with tragedy (at least, not collective tragedy - Ratio mourns the gradual loss of his rationality and control whenever he's around him), and best of all, vulnerable, bared, and compliant. 

Maybe not that suggestive, but what else should he say when the man is sitting on the table, all dressed up, flushed with anticipation and looking at him with hooded eyes?

He's surprised his mind is still intact. 

Ratio swallows as he closes the door behind him, kicking it shut as he drops his keys somewhere on the cabinets. Aventurine notices immediately - of course he does, that crafty bastard - and decides to cross his legs together, rubbing his thighs in an almost deliberate motion. 

And that's when he notices the lower half of his ensemble.

“What – ” Ratio finally finds his voice. “What in the name of Nous are you wearing?”

“Do you not like it?” Aventurine delicately uncrosses a leg and inspects the white stocking that hugs it, ending below the pleated end of the skirt that barely covers his thighs. He notices the man is wearing a corset too, a black one with golden embroidery and clasps that accentuates the curves of his waist, and it took all of his willpower not to reach out and pull at the golden ribbons that keep it together, to undo the white dress shirt that's deliberately unbuttoned to show the smooth expanse of his chest and collarbone. “I thought you had a thing for this.” 

Ratio frowns at this, mild annoyance replacing the flush of arousal running through his system just a moment earlier. “What do you mean by that?” He demands. “Are you suggesting I have…certain perverse tendencies?” 

The blonde chuckles, sliding off the table, the flutter of fabric offering a tantalising glimpse at what he couldn't have - yet. “Everyone has certain perverse tendencies, Veritas.” He hates how calm he sounds, as if he's a toddler in need of education. “They're called kinks.” Aventurine reaches up to cup his face, but he merely scowls. 

“I'm aware of what the term and concept is,” Ratio snaps back, irritated. “What I'm asking is, why – ”

“I know what you're asking.” This is punctuated by a small but firm pinch of his cheek (again, being treated as if he's in need of more braincells). “You're not letting me finish.”

“Speak any slower, and I'm not letting you finish,” Ratio mutters under his breath, but the blonde continues anyways, purposefully ignoring this. 

“As you know – ” Aventurine reaches out to grab his wrist, guiding his hand to his thigh, and Ratio resists the urge to squeeze, the soft and supple flesh fitting perfectly under his palm. “– I deal with people on a daily basis on this job. It demands a lot from you, you know, especially on the people reading front.” He muses, as if they were talking about the weather and he wasn't driving him crazy on purpose. “It's not hard to figure out your likes, your hates, your preferences…” He deliberately enunciates this. “You think you're so hard to read, Veritas.” He smirks up at him, trailing a finger down his jawline. “In fact, you're as open as a book.” Aventurine leans up, brushing his lips against the shell of his ear as he whispers into it. “You want to fuck me right here, don't you?” 

Ratio blinks, momentarily unnerved, before snapping out of it. “It doesn't take a genius to figure that out,” He retorts, painfully aware of the bulge in his pants. 

Aventurine laughs. “Maybe not, but it does take one to figure out how to get you so hot and bothered the moment you walk through the door.”

There is some truth in his statement, Ratio concedes – but his patience was running thin by listening to his yapping at this point, and honestly he just wanted to get on with it. Instead of replying, he leans forward and captures Aventurine's lips in a rough and almost bruising kiss, deciding to ignore the delighted sound that came out of his mouth whenever he pissed Ratio off enough to do whatever he wanted. Perhaps the blonde is an expert at reading people, Ratio thinks to himself as he carries him to the bedroom, lifting the petite man easily as he wraps those pretty legs around his waist. Or perhaps he just knows him better than he knows (and wants to admit to) himself.

Whatever the case was, Ratio decides to push all rational thought to the back of his mind as he pushes Aventurine down onto the sheets, capturing his lips in another passionate kiss. The blonde moans against his lips, tangling his fingers into his purple locks as he greedily devours his mouth. Ratio finally gives into temptation, sliding his hands down the curve of his waist and slipping under his skirt, groaning with satisfaction at finally being able to squeeze at his thighs and the silk of the stockings, unable to keep his hands off anymore. “Fuck…” He curses, dipping his head and licking at the exposed expanse of skin of his neck, breathing in his lover's scent. “I fucking hate you.” 

Aventurine chuckles, spreading his legs to give him more room to touch, to squeeze, to fondle – whatever he wants, and Ratio takes the offer, running his hands along the man's inner thighs, and he almost groans again. “Any particular reason why?” 

“You drive me crazy,” He mutters, reaching the apex of his thighs, before his eyes widen. “You – ” Ratio swallows, tries again. “Where did you get this stuff?” He fingers the black lace almost in awe, enjoying how it snaps back onto his skin so easily. Before he could toy with it again, the blonde's voice comes, sharp and sudden. 

“Don't ask questions you don't want answers to,” Aventurine says firmly, reaching out to lightly grip at his throat, a warning. Ratio takes the hint, deciding to push his legs further apart instead to expose the panties under his skirt, soaked with precum and tented by the obvious bulge underneath it. He reaches out to cup it, eliciting a small moan from the other man, who decides to retract his hand and use it to grip his bicep instead. “O - oh…” 

“Good?” He prompts, giving it another squeeze. 

“Stop teasing.” Aventurine frowns back, and Ratio raises an eyebrow at this. “Continue talking, and I'll leave you like this,” He snaps in return, pulling back completely. The blonde opens his mouth, likely to make another biting remark, but it's quickly replaced by a soft gasp as Ratio hooks his fingers onto the waistband of the black panties. “May I?” 

Aventurine nods, his cheeks flushed with anticipation as he lifts his legs, making it easier to pull them off. Gripping the back of Aventurine's thighs, he's rewarded with another soft gasp as he leans down until his face is next to his lover's cock, swollen with need and wet with precum. Ratio lets out a low groan of appreciation, pulling at the garter with his teeth, deliberately undoing the ribbon and sinking his teeth into the plumpness. “V - Veritas…”

“Patience.” Ratio pulls away, before bringing his cock closer so it's aligned with his lips, opening his mouth, taking the throbbing organ in, suckling and licking. Almost immediately, Aventurine bucks his hips forward, chasing the warmth of his mouth as a hand grips his hair, urging him on. 

In another situation, he would've been annoyed by the rough treatment, but Ratio could care less today with the almost sinful ensemble he was presented with, especially when Aventurine's stocking-clad thighs threaten to close around his head, and he's given the liberty to push them apart, and keep them apart. The blonde whines at this, his legs shaking with effort as Ratio continues to lick around the cock in his mouth, teasing more and more delightful noises out of him. Aventurine makes the mistake of looking down, eyes glazed over, and Ratio deliberately stares up at him underneath his eyelashes, grinning as he continues to suck, filling the room with wet sloppy noises.

“Fuuck…” Aventurine whines, thrusting his hips forward into Ratio's mouth, who grazes his cock with his teeth as a warning. He whines again, nods, and stays still as his lover continues to sick him off, closing his eyes as he gasps. “I - I'm close, Veritas, please – ”

With a slick pop, Ratio lets go of his cock, leaning up to kiss Aventurine before another frustrated whine could escape his lips. Pushing the blonde down on the pillows, he slides a finger down to his puckered hole, about to push in when it comes into contact with something solid. 

“What the fuck.”

“I got too desperate,” He explains, punctuated by a pout.

“I can see that,” Ratio returns, voice half clouded in disbelief and half in amazement. He tests the silicone toy, twisting it around tentatively before pulling the plug out altogether, slick sounds accompanying its removal until Aventurine's hole clenches around nothing. “No prep then, I take it?”

“You're too big, Veritas,” He retorts, easing his legs up for better access.

“Stop being a baby,” Ratio snaps back, but nonetheless reaches for the bottle of lube on their nightstand, pouring a generous amount on his fingers before sliding them in gently, until he gets three in. The blonde squirms under his touch, gasping when Ratio's digits find the spot that makes him roll his eyes back in pleasure. “Good?” 

“The real thing would feel better though.” He rolls his eyes at the words, withdrawing his fingers and using the slick to pump his own cock. When Aventurine deems him too slow, he lets out another whine.”Hurry up.” 

“I'm getting there, princess,” Ratio scoffs, before aligning his cock to the puckered hole. With one snap of his hips, he buried himself to the hilt, hips aligned with the other's, groaning as Aventurine's tight heat engulfs him. “Better?” 

“More…” The blonde bites down on his bottom lip, eyes flickered up to meet his pleadingly. Ratio's Adam apple bobs as he swallows, the expression causing something to stir inside of him now that he's buried in him, Aventurine clearly starting to lose himself in the pleasure. “Please, Veritas?”

Ratio sighs, unable to deny him, not when he's begging. “You're lucky you're beautiful,” He mutters, hooking a hand around the man's thigh, pulling it up to angle himself better. His other hand grips the fabric of the skirt, bunching it up, bracing himself before he slams back into the welcoming heat. Aventurine gasps at the sudden impact, moaning loudly as Ratio continues to hit that particular spot inside of him repeatedly, fucking into him almost violently. “N - not beautiful,” He manages to choke out as he grabs the man's broad shoulders, holding on for dear life. “Pretty.” 

“Pretty,” He echoes, rolling the word on his tongue while continuing to thrust into him. “You want me to call you pretty?” Aventurine nods, frantically. “Look at you,” He croons, an almost cruel smirk twisting his lips, enjoying the sight of the man being taken apart underneath him. “Such a pretty little thing when you're not running your mouth, bratting at me.” The blonde could only moan in response as his prostate is repeatedly stimulated, and Ratio groans, removing his hand to start stroking his cock instead, which twitches under his touch. “Right, princess?” 

“M - more…” He gasps, slurring his words as saliva floods his mouth from moaning. Ratio leans forward, kissing it away from the corner of his lips. “Please, Veritas…”

The scholar groans again at this. “You'll be the death of me,” He mutters, snapping his hips deeper into Aventurine's wet warmth, using him. The blonde's teal eyes glaze over at his words, his mouth hanging open as moans continue to escape from him, lost in the pleasure. Overcame by the sight, Ratio crashes his lips against his, increasing his pace until it's almost brutal, coaxing more and more lewd noises from Aventurine. 

“V - Veritas, I'm close – ” He gasps loudly. “Don't stop - please don't stop - ”

“Not going to,” Ratio pants, continuing to stroke his cock. “Come on, cum for me…” He mutters almost obsessively, intent on making the blonde come apart under his hands.

“V - Veritas - ” Aventurine whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut as he climaxes. Ratio watches, almost mesmerised as his hips buck wildly, cum spurting out of his cock and painting his stomach a messy white. “O - oh, shit – ”

He waits until Aventurine's breathing somewhat evens out, before resuming the ruthless pace he'd initially set, slamming his cock against his sore prostate repeatedly. Aventurine's eyes widen at the sudden stimulation, running sharp and painful through his veins after the initial orgasm. “V - Veritas, wait, what are you - ”

“Did you think you could get away with bratting so easily?” Ratio asks, soft and dangerous, contrasting with the pace he set. “Your actions have consequences. Dressing up like this…” He grunts as he slams it back in, using Aventurine's hole as a makeshift cocksheath. “Did you really think I'd do nothing more?” 

“B - but – ”

“No buts,” He commands, wrapping a hand around his cock again, making the blonde wince at the added pressure. “Take it, Aventurine.” 

The blonde shivers at the tone of his voice, his cock twitching at Ratio's dominance as he squirms on the bed, but a knee shoved roughly on top of his own stopped it. Tears start prickling at Aventurine's eyes as he's being ruthlessly fucked, used as a means to do nothing but chase Ratio's own climax. “Nghnn…” He squeezes his eyes shut, clearly overwhelmed by the onslaught of pleasure. Momentarily softening (but continuing his pace), Ratio leans up and kisses the moisture away. “Hold on, Aventurine” He pants. “You're doing well.”

The blonde nods, flushed with arousal. “I - I will…”

“Good boy,” He plants another kiss on his temple, largely contrasting with the pace he's driving his cock in and out of him, wet lewd noises filling the room. “I'm close,” He promises, watching with satisfaction as Aventurine nods again. 

Sweat drips down Ratio's forehead as he continues to fuck into his hole, the tightness gradually driving him wild until he feels like nothing but an animal in rut. With a loud groan, he slams his cock deep into Aventurine as he cums, moaning into his neck as he fills the man up. For a split second, he wonders briefly whether he could make the other man pregnant – until logic prevails and he mentally smacks himself. Still, the idea is not without allure. He's briefly aware of how Aventurine is shaking uncontrollably, his cock still spurting pathetic amounts of cum, clearly tethered on the edge of being overwhelmed.  

With a small groan, Ratio pushes himself up, and runs a hand down Aventurine's cheek gently, pulling him close for a kiss, as soft as he can possibly make it. A lack of response alerts him to something being wrong, and the scholar pulls away, frowning slightly. “Aventurine?” 

The usage of his name briefly clears the cloudiness of his eyes, but only enough to urge him to cling to his body, still shivering. “Aventurine,” Ratio calls again, with an edge of urgency. “Look at me.” He gently tilts his chin up, meeting the glazed over teal with his amber. “It's alright now,” He murmurs. “You can relax.” Leaning his chin on Aventurine's shoulder, he wraps his arms around the smaller man's waist, tracing gentle circles on the small of his back. “Come back to me, Aventurine.” 

When there's still minimal response, he sighs, and buries his nose into the man's neck, nosing into the skin, whispering his real name into his ear, only revealed to him and under the cover of darkness in a night spent together. Gradually, the blonde came to, a low groan of pain escaping his throat. “H - hurts…”

“I pushed you too hard, did I?” Ratio murmurs in regret, kissing the top of Aventurine's head, earning a tired chuckle in return. “I've had worse.”

Ratio doesn't respond for a moment, focusing on making sure the blond knows that he's safe and taken care of. Despite the harsh exteriors they both present, especially towards each other, there's still an underlying understanding of how deep their relationship runs. At least, that's what Ratio hopes, given by how Aventurine always comes back to his arms at the end of the day. With that thought, he decided to tilt the other man's chin up for another kiss, surprisingly slow and gentle, the shiver running down Ratio's spine more delicious than when fucking Aventurine until he was squirming on the bed.

“Next time, you know what to expect when you put on something like that,” Ratio says gruffly instead, biting on Aventurine's neck possessively, earning another breathless chuckle from him. “Don't play with fire – it's dangerous.”

Instead of heeding his warning, Aventurine merely laughs, a sharp sound contrasting the cosy atmosphere cocooning them. “But I love being burnt,” He murmurs back, flipping their positions easily. As Ratio's back hits the bed, his eyes widen when Aventurine grins down at him, a wild look in the teal. “Now, my turn.” 

[glowingbadger]

Felix and 5 from the kink list… v///v,,, with reader in the supervisor/superior role,,,,

Ohohohoho how intriguing, I love this character/kink combination. Obviously, this will be a modern AU, so heads up about that~

Also, man, is there anything a fem person can wear that's sexier than a white blouse with a pencil skirt, tights/stockings and a pair of black pump heels? It's one of my greatest weaknesses, so if you're someone who wears fem presenting clothes, probably just envision that for Reader-chan here lol

CW: office romance, boss x employee

Felix (FE3H) x GN! Reader

Kink prompt #5 (office sex)

NSFW 18+

Felix is the only one of your coworkers with the quiet audacity to let himself into your office without so much as a knock- nevermind that, as department lead, you're technically his supervisor. His expression rests at its usual prickly default as he wordlessly nudges your door closed behind him, and you turn to face him with a single eyebrow quirked.

"We've talked about knocking," you say with a sigh, "I'd appreciate if you'd exhibit the same level of professionalism as anyone else here."

"It's nearly six," he says bluntly, one hand on his hip and the other absently tugging at his tie, loosening it just a bit, "It's not like there's anyone left to care. You're the only one still sitting around here."

"And you, apparently."

His gaze drifts absently to the bookcase beside your desk.

"Guess so."

Silent once more, he loiters near the shelves lined with books that haven't been touched for as long as you've occupied this office, and nick-nacks you'd placed haphazardly, if only because you had nowhere else to put them.

"Well... I've still got, like, two dozen e-mails to get to, so..." you trail off, a hand running through your hair as you exhale.

When Felix turns to you, he's scowling.

"You work too hard. None of the other idiots at this company put in the kind of hours that you do."

"Coming from you, that almost sounds like a compliment," you say with a weary grin.

"It's not," he replies.

Just like that, he approaches, and now he's close- far too close for an employee alone with his supervisor. You turn to face him, but end up trapped between his body and the edge of your desk pressed to the back of your thighs. Your breath catches, but you maintain composure. Or, you think you do. It's hard to keep yourself in check when you catch the way his brown eyes flicker towards your lips for just a split second.

"It's irritating," he says, his tone harsh but his voice low, "You should be delegating more of your workload. I hate seeing you here this late every day."

As he speaks, his hand is running up the side of your neck until his palm cups your jawline and his fingertips tease into your hair. His touch is gentle despite his usual harsh demeanor, and by now, you know to expect this. Felix is always gentle with you in your rare and precious time alone together, no matter how he may come across to anyone else. You smile warmly at him.

"But if I work less, you and I won't get to have these little private meetings so often."

You run a hand up the muscled abdomen you can feel through his dress shirt, then tug him closer by his tie- and he allows it, despite his wry expression.

"And I wouldn't have to come pester you like this if you didn't need to be convinced to leave your desk."

Your smile curls into a half-smirk.

"You haven't done much convincing yet, Mr. Fraldarius."

He offers no reply, but fixes his hands at your hips and turns you firmly around towards that very same vexing desk. With his body flush to yours, your ass presses firm against where you can feel his cock beginning to rise. His hands run up your sides, and you mew his name softly into the empty office.

"Quiet," he whispers against your ear, his breath tickling your skin sending a shivering tremor through you.

"No one's here..." you manage. His hands run over your chest, fingers grazing across your nipples, and your body arcs against him. His hips pitch forward, grinding his erection against you as it grows ever larger and ever more insistent.

"Could be other stragglers. Besides," he pauses to tease the shell of your ear with his teeth, "I like it when you try to keep quiet. And I like it even more when you fail."

As though to prove his point, he shifts away from you just enough to slap an open palm against your ass, forcing a whimpering moan from your lips.

"Felix..!"

He groans, but stifles the sound in the crook of your neck.

"You're... such a pain," you gasp out, "The nerve to... treat your supervisor like- mmh!"

He bites down at your shoulder muscle, and you can only imagine the kind of mark he's leaving you, with a thrill of warm arousal between your legs at the thought. Shameless hands still travel your body, slow but firm and unabashed, each inch of skin claimed only compounding your need for him. Until, finally, he begins to tug your clothes away with the kind of demanding force you've come to expect and adore from him. He's impatient, but so are you, so when he only manages to get your clothing just out of the way enough to press the tip of his cock to your entrance, you're already burning with anticipation.

"Fuck-" you inhale sharply as he pushes into you, opening you up around each inch of him. His cock throbs at your eager response, and the twitching motion just stretches you even better, rubs into you sinfully. Felix rocks his hips against you in a slow yet relentless rhythm, pushing steadily deeper until he's held inside of you to the base, your bodies nestled firmly together.

"You must be pent up," he speaks softly but plainly against your neck, "You're trembling like you already want to cum."

He's not wrong, but he doesn't have to outright say it. Your unsteady hand meets the sharp line of his jaw and travels up to his hair, holding him close as you struggle to steady your breath.

"Felix, please-"

You feel the harsh scrape of his teeth at your neck once more, and before you've even processed this sharp sensation, he pulls back, then thrusts his cock into you, deep and hard. Your hands fly to the surface of the desk beneath you to steady yourself, and as he continues to fuck you from behind, it's the only thing keeping your trembling legs from giving out. You're biting down on your lip, fighting against the cries of pleasure you so dearly want to let out. You feel his hand descend against your ass once more, then grab a handful, savoring the way your flesh fills his palm. And with that, your restraint already begins to fracture. Each time the head of his cock pounds into that sweet spot deep within you, your voice escapes in gradually clearer moans.

"That's it- come on, stop being difficult," his hands grab at your hips and pull you against him, holding you in place while his entire length lurches against your inner walls- and you moan. Fuck, you moan so loud that for a moment, you think that if there's a single soul lingering in this entire building, they must have heard you.

"There," Felix grunts- he's trying to sound firm and measured, but you can hear the way his voice wavers as you tighten and squeeze around his hard member, "See what I have to do... to get you to stop thinking about work..?"

He's definitely succeeded- you're hardly thinking about anything, let alone work. Your body is warm and your mind is buzzing with the thrill of pleasure and taboo, and it's all you can do to arch back against him once more and murmur,

"Just shut up and fuck me."

[laundryandtaxes]

Hi- I love your style and your fashion sense! I’m looking to buy my first suit, do you have any tips? I’m rather tall and heavy so I’ve been too nervous to try any on but I’d really love to get a suit 🥲

My only major tip is to only purchase from a retailer that allows you to buy the jacket and trousers separately. For instance, when I purchase an OTR suit I first make sure that the trouser and jacket sizes I want are both in stock (easy to do via email) and then leave my trouser size swap as a note in the order. The reason for this is that, otherwise, a 46 suit jacket, for instance, will come with 40 waist trousers- a 6 inch "drop" is standard sizing, but that works for almost no women and likely a minority of men as well.

Otherwise, I'd say any old guide to suit fit from a classic menswear perspective will do you well. The fit at the shoulders is non negotiable because it is difficult and expensive to alter shoulders, so it needs to be just right- the shoulder lean test where you lean a shoulder into a wall to ensure that the jacket doesn't land too far before your shoulder is a fairly reliable fit indicator. If your shirt sleeve is not visible with your arms at your sides naturally, then the suit sleeves are too long- whether you want to show half an inch of shirt cuff or a quarter of an inch of cuff is up to you, but some should be visible. I personally don't ever like slim cut jackets or trousers, I personally don't ever like no break trousers for suits, but that's because those things are not my style. Shoulder fit it one of the only things that is genuinely non negotiable in a jacket. When buttoning, follow the Sometimes, Always, Never rule. If a jacket has 3 buttons, you can sometimes button the top, will always button the second, and should never button the third. If a jacket has 2 buttons (as most contemporary jackets do) you skip the sometimes. I wouldn't purchase a suit that was anything other than entirely natural material- whether linen, cotton, wool, silk, blends of those, whatever- but that's also a personal choice and there's nothing inherently wrong with some stretch if you like it.

I think it is technically true that a jacket does not fit if you can't close it, but I also recognize that we all need to accept the bodies we actually have when it comes to OTR tailoring, to decide going in which parts of the fit are most important to us and make our altering and purchasing decisions with those in mind. What alterations are "standard" for a suit, then, is personal, but you should never wear a suit with absolutely no alteration because the odds that it actually fits well are very low because the suit wasn't made for you. For me, standard alterations mean adding a 1.5" cuff, getting the sleeves shortened which nearly everyone needs to do, and having the waist of the jacket let out to eliminate tugging I can otherwise get at the second button.

The more boring a suit is, the more likely you are to still have and wear it in 5 years. When choosing between a more fashionable decision and a more conservative decision, I always make the more conservative tailoring decision but again, that's a personal choice.