#i did this instead of working on my WIP folder

[acommonanomaly]

It's said that Tolkien's elves think long luxurious hair is attractive, so what if Nerdanel was thought of as "not among the fairest of her people" because she found long hair inconvenient and kept hers short?

Anyway, here's my girl with short hair!

[noodlesnatcher]

sorry, my hand slipped, hehe

(Not ship art btw)

[orcelito]

ok it's rly stupid but discacc chapter 42 felt so weird writing not for anything in the chapter but bc i wrote it outside of my normal active chapter document. for the most part. LIKE i have this one document that i use for writing all my discacc chapters and HAVE since like way way way early on. like since chapter 2 ish early on? bc things were getting too long it was freaking out the doc & also it's easier to copy-paste new chapters into ao3 if i just have that chapter there. so i have my main fic thing (well, multiple, since discacc is too long to fit into one document lmfaoo) & then i write new chapters in this active chapter doc & then copy paste them into the main thing once im done

EXCEPT

so 42 was originally a part of 41. it was all gonna be chapter 41. and i wrote like 4.6k words of it in active document with chapter 41. then decided it was gonna be its own thing, so i just plopped that bit into its own document to cut it from the active chapter doc. but then. when it came time to continue it in chapter 42. i just. didnt move it back to the active chapter document. i just kept writing in separate document '42'.

and idk there's just smth that feels so WEIRD about that. like it wasn't a normal discacc chapter or smth. which is kinda stupid but idk. like i couldve moved it back over at any point. but i didnt. bc i was already there

anyways im looking forward to writing again in "DA active chapter" doc aka the RIGHT doc for discacc writing. thank you very much

[aestheticaltcow]

Six Months

An attempt at some parenthood angst?

Similarly to the title, this fic has been in my WIP folder for a minute; it went through a handful of edits. I'd like to think this is good enough for y'all.

The Bear Masterlist

Next part

 

Carmy sat in the office staring at the paperwork Sugar needed his signature on; when he saw the date on his phone, it hit him—today marked six months. Six months of parenthood and six months of celibacy, to say Carmy was sexually frustrated, was an understatement. “Hey Carm, did you- are you okay?” Sugar asked when she caught him staring blankly at his phone. He didn’t respond until she put her hand on his shoulder. Her touch snapped him out of his trance. He looked at her before quickly apologizing, “Sorry, what were you sayin'?” Sugar grinned as she patted his shoulder, “You okay, Bear?”

Carmy nodded and straightened up in his desk chair, “Yea- just thinkin’ bout the baby.”

Carmy got home from work late. He quietly slipped his jacket off, and hung it on the coat rack before removing his shoes. Walking down the hallway, he slipped into the nursery, knowing the baby would be asleep. He found it impossible not to be happy in her room. The walls were decorated with vintage floral wallpaper you’d bought off Etsy, it may have been a pain in the ass to put up, but Carmy happily obliged when he saw how happy it had made you. He crept to his baby girl’s crib and felt the day's stress disappear. She was peacefully sleeping in a light pink sleep sack, furiously sucking away on her pacifier. “Sweet dreams, princess,” he whispered. “I love you.” 

The joy of watching his daughter sleep faded away as he approached the askew door to the master bedroom the two of you shared. “I’m home, baby.” Carmy grinned as he walked toward the open closet door, “Hi, Carm.” you called from the bathroom. When he entered the bathroom, you were brushing your teeth. As the mix of salvia and toothpaste residue dripped from your mouth Carmy’s breath hitched- was this enough to get him goin’? He shook his head as he pulled his shirt off and threw it in the laundry hamper before turning on the shower.

“How was work, babe?” you asked before bringing a small cup of mouthwash to your lips. Carmy watched as you swished it around your mouth and spit it into the sink. “Carmy?” you asked again; he swallowed. “Yeah, uh, it was good. Busy,” he answered as you hopped up on the counter. You were desperate for adult interaction after being home with the baby all day. 

“Mia, have a good day?” Carmy questioned. You nodded, “We did some laundry, then had mashed pears for lunch- she did. I had that leftover pasta sauce you made... Read a couple books and went on a walk... Then did her bedtime routine, and I worked on that stupid documentary I was telling you about.” 

As you recounted your day, Carmy nodded, but he was staring at your chest, barely hearing what you said. You’d been wearing one of his old T-shirts. He noticed how prominent your nipples were under the soft, worn-in material. He was captivated by the fullness of your breasts, and he’d do just about anything to touch them again. “Carm, you okay?” you asked, hopping down from the counter; he nodded. “Wanna get in with me?” he asked cocking his head in the direction of the running shower. You giggled, “Maybe next time, bear.”

“Oh fuck-” Carmy grunted as he worked his hand up and down his length. He felt like a teenager again, masturbating in the shower before going to school. However, now, instead of imagining the unrealistic scenarios he’d see in pornos, he had memories of you. Carmy thought back to the last time you’d really touched him. Heavily pregnant, hormonal, begging for his tongue and his cock… he’d expected a shift in your sex life as the two of you adjusted to parenthood, but this long of a dry spell was the last thing he’d expected. Carmy squeezed his eyes closed as he came down the drain.

~

“Good morning, princess.” Carmy cooed as Mia squirmed in her crib, trying to get out of her sleep sack. She spat her pacifier out and let out a gruggle. “So it’s one of those mornings?” he chuckled as he unzipped her. He watched her stretch before carefully picking her up, “See, you’re okay.” he rocked her gently before exiting the nursery and heading downstairs. 

You were making coffee and prepping a bottle for Mia as he entered the kitchen. “You’re off today, right?” Carmy nodded in response before handing you Mia. “You goin’ to work?” he questioned, as he got two mugs from the cabinet. You groaned in response, “Jenny called off, so I have to go in. I’ll be back before bedtime.”

“Well, looks like Mia and I are havin' some Daddy-Daughter time,” you smiled as Carmy gently kissed her head before going to get the milk from the fridge. When you’d met Carmy all those years ago at some trendy Chicago bar, you found him incredibly alluring. His disheveled curls, the mix of some musky cologne and cigarette smoke, the way his T-shirt wrapped around his muscular arms… he’d always been… sexy. But watching him interact with Mia was a different kind of attractive.

Carmy drummed his thumbs on the handlebar of the grocery cart. He scanned the shelf before him as Mia happily made her baby noises as she looked around the aisle. “Okay, princess… they don’t have almond extract. What kind of grocery store doesn’t have fuckin’ almond extract.” Mia put her hands out to Carmy, grabbing at the air. Carmy chuckled and ducked to kiss her cheek.

“Oh my gosh, she’s too precious.” a sickly, sweet feminine voice cooed from behind Carmy. He grinned when he turned his attention to her, “How old is she?” she asked. Carmy got a good look at the woman; she was pretty, but she wasn’t you. “Oh, uh, she’s six months,” he answered as the woman stepped closer. She smelled like cheap vanilla and a mix of flowery scents Carmy couldn’t place. Mia glared at the woman, and Carmy scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m Selena. I’m in this parenting group. You should stop by.” she smiled as she looked him up and down. The attention made Carmy regret not regularly wearing his wedding ring. “I’m not really the par-” Carmy started to say before Selena cut him off. “I’m not takin’ no as an answer. What’s your number?” she handed him her phone. 

Carmy didn’t know why he gave her his number- could he blame it on feeling uncomfortable? Was that even the right thing to do? It’s not like he’d ever do anything with this woman. He’d never throw away his marriage to you by hooking up with some woman he met at the grocery store. The reality of Carmy's actions didn’t hit him until he was in the checkout line. He gave his phone number to another woman- was that cheating on you? Did doing that in front of his daughter make him a bad father? “Okay, your total is $63.82.” the cashier smiled. Carmy nodded and swiped his card. He needed to get out of there as quickly as possible so he wouldn’t run into Selena again.

~

It had been a couple of weeks since Carmy’s interaction at the grocery store. He’d noticed Selena’s text messages here and there. They seemed innocent until one Friday night, he was working late, you were home with the baby, and Selena had sent Carmy an explicit picture, hoping it would get his attention.

We’re both parents. 

I’m not looking for anything serious, Carmy…

My son is at his Dad’s place

Come over <3

Carmy stared at the messages before his eyes went up to the attached photo. Selena had the hem of her T-shirt between her teeth, showing off her toned stomach. He swallowed as he admired the contrast between her skin and the brightly colored fabric of her lacy underwear. He should block her. He should just delete the messages and block her number. He had a wife and baby at home—he couldn’t make this kind of mistake. He locked his phone and shoved it in his pocket before returning to the kitchen cleanup, “Hey Carm, I can finish this up. Go home.” Sweeps grinned as he attempted to connect his phone to the Bluetooth speaker on the counter. Carmy grinned, “You sure, man?” Sweeps nodded assuringly. “I think I can handle this boss man.” 

You heard Carmy walk into the bedroom that night, “Hey babe!” you called as you put your blowdryer in its designated spot by the sink. As the bathroom door swung open, Carmy’s lips were on yours. The initial shock wore off as Carmy’s tongue invaded your mouth, and his hands pushed under the hem of your sleep shorts to grasp at your ass cheeks. Carmy pulled you closer to him, forcing you onto your tip toes. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers delicately tangling in the roots of his hair. The passionate kiss ended when Carmy started to kiss down your jaw. A giggle escaped your mouth as his lips brushed against your earlobe before he nipped at your neck. “Carm-m what got into you?” you croaked as you adjusted your hips against his.

 “I need you, baby,” he muttered, lifting you off the floor. You squealed as he crashed down onto your mattress. He hovered above your body, staring into your eyes. “I need to be inside you, baby.” he swallowed hard as you bit your lip. “Carmyyy,” you giggled as you watched him pull his t-shirt off. You ran a finger down his chest, making him moan softly.

 “Let me make you feel good, baby…” Carmy whispered in your ear as one of his hands found its way into your oversized sleep shirt. Your breath hitched when you felt his calloused fingertips graze your ribs. " I-I—" you studdered nervously. “Baby…please.” Carmy quietly asked as his lips brushed against yours. “No.” you whispered as you grabbed his wrist through your shirt, “What?” Carmy questioned as he stood up abruptly, “Did I do something? We haven’t done anything in like six months- clearly I did something wrong. Just tell me so I can fix it!” Carmy raised his voice as his eyebrows knit together in frustration. 

You propped yourself on your elbows and watched as he picked up his shirt from the floor, “Carmen, please don’t yell at me.” you said calmly. You watched as he rolled his eyes and paced before you, “Baby. I want to have sex with you. I need to have sex with you-” Carmy groaned as he pushed his hands over his face into his hair. Your eyes narrowed, “Carmen. I had a baby-”

 “I KNOW! I fucking know! You had my baby, but now you don’t even want to fuckin’ shower with me! I get it- pregnancy was hard, and then giving birth was hard, and now being a mom is hard.” Carmy started staring at the ceiling while he expressed himself. He took a breath and turned to look at you; regret washed over him when he noticed you were on the verge of tears. “Baby, please don’t cry…” he pleaded as he knelt by the bed. He reached for your hand, but you pulled away before he could grab it, “Sorry, I don’t want to fuck you after taking care of your baby all day.” you spat. Carmy closed his eyes and took another breath trying to compose himself before saying something dumb, “How dare I fail to meet my wifely duties.” you angrily laughed as you stood up. 

You crossed your arms over your chest and stared as Carmy got up. “Baby, I didn’t—" you cut Carmy off with a groan. “Shut up, Carmen. You don’t get to speak to me like that.”

Carmy sighed and stepped closer to you, as he reached out for your hips only for you to slap his hands away. “Don’t touch me.” you glared at him, “Fuck this.” Carmy muttered under his breath as he pulled his shirt back on over his head. “What do you mean ‘fuck this’?” you questioned as Carmy exited the bedroom, “I need air.” Carmy called back to you.

You moved to your bedroom window to see Carmy walking toward his car in the driveway. He got in and pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket. 

Send me your address.

[byoldervine]

How To Always Have Writing Ideas…

For A New Story:

1. Keep a list. Any time you have one of those sudden bursts of inspiration in the middle of writing a separate story, don’t quit your current WIP or pretend you’ll ‘just remember it’, put it into a separate list. You can always go back to this later on

2. Writing prompts. Look them up, use random word generators, pick a random object you can see, whatever helps you come up with any idea at all. Write a few paragraphs. Can it evolve from there?

3. People watch. Go to a public place and make up backstories for the strangers you come across. That man in the hat is using it to hide his elf ears. That woman with the bright pink hair didn’t dye it, she’s secretly the main character of an anime trying to dodge all the tropes and cliches. That toddler is actually a guardian angel reincarnated to watch over their new baby sibling. What brings them to this place? Where did they come from? Where are they going next?

To Continue An Existing Story:

1. Act it out. Say the words aloud, act out what your characters are doing, get props or people to act off of if you need to. See what feels like the most natural progression of the moment

2. Coffee shop AU, or other substitutional one-shot. Good for establishing dynamics between two or more characters, or even just working out a lone character’s day-to-day. Just write a few paragraphs about your characters entering a coffee shop or similar appropriate establishment/ordinary location. What do they do? What do they order to eat/drink? What do they say to each other? How do they treat the staff and other customers? If all else fails, write what they do after they leave, as if it were an ordinary day for them

3. Rubber duck it. This is something programmers use to work out where they went wrong in their code, but I’ve found it can work for figuring out story stuff as well. What you do is get a rubber duck, or any other object of focus, and start explaining your problem to it out loud. In this case you can read your chapter to the duck, or even give it the full run-down of the plot so far. Warning; side effects may include getting frustrated that the problem was right in front of you and subsequently throwing the duck

For Both:

1. Writing graveyards. I talked a bit about them in a previous post, but writing graveyards are basically just the folder you store your deleted scenes in instead of yeeting them into the void. Reread those, see if they have anything you can recontextualise or repurpose

2. Combine ideas. My WIP Byoldervine is a combination of two separate plots I had that I realised I’d be able to combine - twice. I first realised I could put together my ‘angel and demon heroes protecting humans from a war between heaven and hell’ story and my ‘quest through the fantasy realm to find the ingredients to a cure for a dying god’ story into the same universe as two sides of the same story as a duology. Then I realised I could just remove a few characters, tweak a few plot points and mash them completely together into one book. Combining them works wonders and minimises worldbuilding

3. Go out with friends or family. I guarantee that the one time you’ll be flooded with inspiration is when you don’t have an opportunity to write it down

[monsterfuker3000]

You Call the Shots, Babe ༺♡༻

Hi kittens, mommy’s had a rough one and that’s why it’s been since October since I published anything lol. My now-ex boyfriend broke up with me and it thrust me head first into my man-hating era and I couldn’t write to save my life. I’m not happy with this fic but I had to publish SOMETHING bc it’s been rotting in my WIP folder forever. Enjoy, my stinkies 🩷

WARNINGS: p in v sex, perv!Leon, unprotected sex, mentions of male masturbation, a lil bit of footjob action/very light CBT, Leon is a two pump chump I’m sorry, creampie as always, uhhh you degrade him and stuff but he’s Leon so he gets off to that, idk RE2R Leon strikes me as a panty thief who would get off on being told he’s a pervert so that’s what I wrote lol

Word count: 3k words of Leon being a perv

“Leon?” you called.

“Yes?”

“Why do you have my fucking panties?”

Movie night with Leon was always unnecessarily complicated. It very nearly felt like it took him hours to get settled; he needed the right snacks for the two of you, the right drinks, the right comfy clothes, the right movie. If he put much more effort into every movie night, it would start to feel like a date. Not that he’d mind that.

You, however, seemed like you would mind. He had tried like hell to hint to you that he wanted something more than friendship; brushing his hand against yours whenever he could, resting his hand at the small of your back in a manner that was much more than friendly, letting his gazes linger a bit longer than they needed to. But you? Dear, distant, unmovable you? Never once reciprocated his affections. Leon was desperate for you.

That’s why the movie nights came about; they were the closest Leon could get to a date night, and by God did he push the envelope. He’d spend every movie night with an arm around your shoulder, both of you under the same blanket. He’d behave himself, keep his hand a where they belonged, but all the while he’d have to try like hell to conceal the hard-on he’d be sporting every time. He felt pathetic, jerking off to the thought of you every night after you’d leave. That’s when he started stealing your panties.

It started out with just one pair he’d seen discarded on top of your hamper in your room, too careless to hide it before he came over. He’d snuck them into his pocket, vowing to himself they he would return them the next time he was at your place. Only he didn’t return them, and he did do it again.

He jumped at every chance to spend time at your place instead of his, sneaking another pair from you nearly every time. You had to be wondering where they kept going, but as long as his operation was still going off without a hitch, he was going to keep stealing them.

Then came the hitch.

You had come over for the aforementioned movie night, barging in after work without knocking like you owned the place, not that Leon minded.

“Lee!” You whined, “It’s cold out! How come you have to live so far from where I work?” You continued your lament as you kicked off your shoes by the door and walked further into the apartment toward the kitchen. Leon poked his head out from the doorway, pointing to his bedroom door.

“Go grab one of my hoodies or something if you’re cold, I’m making popcorn, so help yourself!” He busied himself with the popcorn once again as he heard you turn and walk toward his room, thanking him as you walked away.

“Leon?” you called.

“Yes?”

“Why do you have my fucking panties?”

His heart immediately dropped into his stomach, remembering just how many pairs of your used panties were tucked away in his drawer. The volume and variety would have been impressive if he didn’t feel downright creepy.

He slunk towards his room like a child expecting to be scolded, and his face reddened when he stepped into the doorway. You had your arms crossed, one of his favorite pairs of your panties dangling from one finger

It was a little baby-pink number; cotton, his favorite, with delicate lace around waistband that he couldn’t get enough of. Memories flashed through his head of just what perverted things he’d done with the scraps of cloth spilling out of the drawer you’d apparently yanked open.

He loved to jerk off with them wrapped around his cock, eyes closed and head falling back, sometimes with another pair pressed to his nose to inhale your scent. The worst thing he did, however, embarrassed even him; he loved to jerk off directly into the crotch of your panties, imagining that the reason they were covered in his cum was because it had spilled out of you. This was his favorite of all of his dirty fantasies about you, and imagining that the panties in his hand were soiled because you’d finally let him fuck you would often make him have to touch himself a second time.

“I saw these sticking out of your drawer, and I thought they looked familiar,” you said flatly.

He forced himself to return to the present at your words, fidgeting a bit to try to hide the half-chub that refused to go down even in the face of such profound shame. You cocked an eyebrow, looking all too relaxed given the situation the two of you were in.

“I asked you a question, Leon,” you reminded him. “Why do you have so many pairs of my panties? And I know theyre mine, don’t try to tell me they aren’t,’ you added, effectively crushing to death the only chance at redemption he thought he might have.

“Um, well. . .” He trailed off immediately, completely unable to tear his eyes away from the panties swinging from your hand, not sure how he was going to get out of this one. “I don’t- I. . . It’s beacuse-“

“I know why you have them,” you cut him off, his eyes finally snapping up to meet yours before the embarrassment made him duck away again. “It’s because youre a fucking pervert.”

His heart dropped; this was it. You were disgusted with him, you were going to leave his apartment and never come back, you were going to tell everyone you knew that he was a disgusting panty thief, never to be trusted. However, there was no hiding the full-blown hard-on he was now sporting, thanks to the insult. His face reddened more, if that was even possible. Your eyes flicked down to his crotch, and the scowl you’d been wearing slowly turned into a smirk.

“I’m so sorry, I-“ he began, but you cut him off yet again.

“You’re not sorry you did it,” you salked toward him. “You’re sorry you got caught.’ You were right on the money, as usual, but before Leon could even try to get a word in edgewise, you spoke again. “I think you need to be punished.”

What?

His confusion must have been clear on his face, because you continued.

“What, cat got your tongue?” You teased. “Take your pants off, Leon,” you said. It very obviously wasnt a request.

This felt like a trap to Leon, but he figured things couldn’t get any worse, and so help him he was going to do whatever you asked of him in the hopes it might smooth things over. He cleared his throat, reaching for the drawstring of his sweatpants as you began to slowly circle around him. He felt very much like a cornered animal.

“O-okay,” he finally spoke, albeit haltingly as he slowly pulled at the tie on his pants.

“Tell me, Lee, what have you been doing with all the panties you’ve been stealing, hm? Be specific. And hurry up with your pants, I don’t like waiting when im already impatient.”

God, what were you going to do to him? He tried like hell not to very his hopes up, but he hoped to God this was going to end well for him.

“W-well,” he began, sliding his pants off as he spoke, nervous but still eager to find out what was going to happen next. “I mean, I jack off with them. . .” He trailed off, clearly not wanting to be any more forthcoming than that. He chanced a look at your face again, hoping what little he told you was sufficient, but of course not.

“Tell me more, Lee. And look at me when you do it,” you added. He swallowed hard, fighting to keep his eyes on you while he spoke.

“I wrap them around. . . Around my cock and I, well, I jack off with them, ‘nd then I. . .” He trailed off yet again, cheeks burning bright red, afraid to try your patience but far too embarrassed to get it all out at once. He took a deep breath. “And I like to. . . To finish in the crotch,’ he finally finished.

“Why?” You asked simply. He wasnt prepared to answer that one. He cleared his throat again, and mumbled something, turning away. “Come again?” You asked. He huffed out a breath and looked back up at you, tears very nearly welling up in his eyes from the humiliation but still hard as a rock.

“I said I like to imagine theyre filled with my cum because you put them back on after I fucked you!” He nearly yelled, frustrated with the interrogation. A few embarrassed tears he hadn’t even noticed finally spilled from his eyes and he wiped them away roughly with his sleeve, knowing he had no right to cry.

“I figured,” you replied flatly. How were you staying so calm about this? You’d just found out your best friend had been stealing your panties for the past few months! Leon opened his mouth to ask you just this, but you moved lighting-quick, stuffing the panties into his open mouth and covering it with your hand, swatting away hips hands when he instinctively reached up to push you away.

Holy shit. You just stuffed your panties in his mouth.

“Kneel,” you told him, and his knees were on the floor without a second’s hesitation, placing his hands down on the tops of his thighs. You walked around him, adding the instruction to be careful not to spit them out, and he could hear you once again digging around in the drawer behind him. you gasped behind him, reaching out from behind him to range another pair inches from his nose before snatching it back.

“Leon, these are my favorite!” You cried indignantly. “I’ve been looking for them forever, you pervert,’ you added. God, there was that word again. It absolutely shouldn’t have made his cock twitch in his boxers, but it did anyway. “Hands behind your back,” you instructed him, and he obeyed, wondering what you had in mind. His eyes widened when he felt you twist that second pair of panties around his wrists, essentially improvising a pair of handcuffs. You walked around him again to stand in front of him, and he looked up at you expectantly, tears long-dried. “Try not to rip those, I like them,” you said simply, before sitting on his bed and pressing your socked foot to his crotch without another warning.

He cried out as best he could with a mouthful of your panties, nearly doubling over from the sensation. You were pressing harder than should have been pleasurable, but between how wound up you had him and how long he’d wanted you to touch his cock, he was still in heaven. As you slid your foot up his cock, he wished with everything in him that he didn’t still have his boxers on; that he could feel the friction and not just the pressure, delicious as it was. You leaned back, surveying your work, all the while still working your foot up and down his cock.

“You like that, Leon?” You teased, propped up on your hands. Of course he liked that. Of course you knew he liked that, but how could you not tease him like this?

Your curled your toes gently over the head of his cock, squeezing a bit with your toes. He was sensitive, so fucking sensitive, and he bucked up into your touch with another muffled cry.

“Ah-ah,” you admonished him. “I didn’t say you could move.”

Leon whined again at this, worried you were going to stop touching him, but far too afraid of that prospect to do anything about it.

Instead of withdrawing your foot Ike he expected, you pressed the ball of your foot against his cock, hard. You meant this as a punishment, of course, but poor Leon was so very on edge that he came in his boxers, shaking as he dampened the crotch of them along with your foot.

“Leon. . .” You sighed with a deep frown, one that would have made his heart clench had all his blood not been allocated elsewhere. “You really are a pervert,” you scolded. God, there was that word again. Leon knew at this point that this was all a game, but he couldn’t help the way that word made him feel. Pathetic. Dirty. Unbelievably horny.

You stood, looming over him as he looked up at you with wide eyes.

“I was worried about the rest of my plans for you, but it looks like youre still hard,” you remarked, nudging his overly sensitive cock with your foot and pulling a surprised yelp from him. To his shock, you unbuttoned your pants and slid them off along with your panties all in one go. The way his eyes flicked over to the panties you discarded to the side wasnt lost on you.

“Don’t be greedy, Leon. You have more than enough,” you teased. You knelt on the ground in front of him, pushing against his chest and knocking him off balance to sit flat on the floor with his back to his dresser, hands still bound behind him with your panties. You straddled him, hovering over his cock so close that he could feel the heat and wetness of your pussy. He didn’t dare move after what happened last time.

You decided to grant him just a little relief, using your hand to slide his cock shallowly through your folds, Upand down, up and down. His head hit the dresser behind him with a thunk, a deep groan tearing itself from his throat. Then finally, fucking finally, you slid down onto his cock, taking him to the hilt.

He tore his eyes away from the ceiling, and they nearly popped out of his head as he took in the sight in front of him. His cock had completely disappeared inside of you, your clit resting against his pelvis. He was mesmerized for just a moment before you lifted your hips and slammed them back down, earning another muffled shout from him as his head hit the dresser again.

You began a brutal pace right off the bat, the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with your moans; yours were completely unbridled, his were still dampened by the panties he absolutely wasnt spitting out.

You reached up to place a hand against his cheek, patting it softly before pulling your hand back and delivering an earnest slap. It took him by surprise and he bucked into you again, but you seemed to let that transgression slide. You squeezed his cheeks with one hand, forcing him to look at you.

“Fucking disgusting, Leon. I should spit in your face for stealing and doing such nasty shit with my things,” you said through gritted teeth, hips still rolling against him. God, he was going to cum way too soon again. Sweat rolled down the side of his face with the effort he was exerting trying to hold off his orgasm.

“‘M gonna cum,” you moaned, and it was like he saw the light at the end of the tunnel. “You wanna cum in me Leon? You wanna fill me up with your cum? Of course you do, you fucking sicko,” and Leon knew he had just seconds.

Finally, with a last, particularly strong roll of your hips, you came. As your pussy pulsed around him, Leon came as well, filling you with his cum and thrusting up into you in earnest now, though he was too fucked-out to notice and correct himself.

As soon as your breathing evened a bit, you stood abruptly, the friction against Leon’s softening cock startling him along with the overstimulation. You hooked the panties in his mouth with your finger to yank them out and he choked a bit, his mouth dry. He was speechless as you shook out the slightly damp panties and slid them on with a snap of the waistband.

You bent over in front of him, showing him that the thin gusset of the panties was wet enough with his spit that it had gone slightly translucent. He could see your pussy lips through the wet fabric, and nearly passed out when he watched the wet patch spread as his cum began to spill out of you and onto the panties, just like he’d jacked off to so many times. If he wasn’t so mindful of not wanting to rip the panties that were still wrapped around his wrists, he probably would have pulled you toward him to fill you up with even more of his cum.

You walked around behind him to untangle him and free his arms. As soon as you did though, his hair stood on end remembering what he’d been caught with earlier. He whirled around, still on his knees to look up at you with big, pleading blue eyes.

“I’m so, so sorry, I know it’s gross that I was taking your panties-“

“Leon,” you interrupted him. “Why do you think my used panties were always on the top of my hamper? No girl would leave her panties visible like that if she knows someone is coming over. I wanted you to find them.” You turned and walked out toward the kitchen before turning back to him and seeing his jaw practically on the ground again. “You might wanna check on your popcorn, Lee.”

I’m on twelve Vicodins smoking on Scooby-Doo dick

[icolo]

hi everyone!! my wrist is too sore to draw today, so instead i thought i'd share some of my favorite csp assets + how i like to use them! i also linked some procreate brushes at the end of the post!!

lineart brushes:

SU-Cream Pencil: i swear by this brush and i use it very often!! if you lower the pen density and use a gradient map over it when coloring your drawing, it has a nice effect. that's what i did in this drawing here! i also use this brush like i would draw on paper, so as a sketching tool. recently i've been enjoying blending it for shading. the pics below are drawn on one layer; left is more manga style while the one on the right is from a WIP of my singer sargent study, so it can be used for more realistic styles pretty well!

Found Pencil: another pencil brush that feels really nice to use, created by @/pigpenandpaper.

PS style brushes: a recreation of photoshop's (i believe) default brush. very versatile and also blends well!

analog wind variant pen: a nice pen that i like to use for lineart that is intended to have a bit of a sketch look.

zakutoro real g-pen: i used it for the lineart of this piece. although, it was drawn before i started using 600dpi in my works, so the lower resolution might make it look a bit unclear.

sets of rough pens: great for manga lineart with a rougher vibe; some of them have varying line weight.

coloring brushes:

zaku brushes: very nice and painterly mixing! i definitely recommend it for those who like to leave their colors a bit unblended.

softie marker: as the name implies, it's very soft! i like to use it for blush in chibi illustrations.

analog watercolor brushes: realistic-looking watercolor brushes. i recommend using it with csp's default paper textures, or those i linked below!

993 coloring pen: it's very soft and watery, though it can be made more solid by adjusting the paint density. i actually think it works very nicely for lineart too.

rock dog pen: another soft marker brush i like, that i once again also use for lineart and doodles.

thick coating brush set: recommended for paintings that show brush strokes.

cartoon cloud: don't let the name narrow your vision!! this has to be one of the BEST brushes for painting in my opinion, and of course it's great for clouds and explosions but so so much more!! and it's FREE try it try it!!

decoration/miscellaneous brushes:

neon pen

paper textures

symmetry move brush

close and fill without gaps

rope brush

sphere fisheye guide

flash balloon

speech bubble set: a lifesaving collection for comic artists!! dimensions and line weight can be adjusted by using the operation tool.

gradient map to use in color mode at 15% and another gradient map to use at 20%: the percentage refers to the opacity of the gradient map layer, but they are just the creator's recommendation and i tend to actually increase it. to use gradient map efficiently, i recommend putting all your colors (and lineart if you want) in a folder. then, right-click the folder, select "new correction layer" and then "gradient map". this allows you to modify the gradient map without worrying about affecting the original colors in case you decide not to use it in the end. to import a gradient map from your downloaded csp assets, click the wrench icon next to the name of the gradient set that's currently in use, then select "add gradient set".

you'll also notice that the creator recommends to use their gradients in "color mode". of course, this is also only a recommendation and i suggest trying as many layer modes as you like! to change a layer's mode, simply highlight the layer and click on "normal" (the default mode) and csp will display the available modes.

fruit ninja gradient map: fun to use if you want really drastic/vibrant colors! the names of the gradients are cute too, as you can see in the above screenshot!

BONUS: jeremy fenske's free photoshop brush pack: these aren't csp brushes per se, but they can be imported into the program! excellent for environments, i recommend watching fenske's video on how he uses the brushes to get a clearer picture since there are so many in this pack!!

BONUS 2: my good friend clem has a few brush packs for procreate that are ideal for painting,decorating drawings, and y2k-inspired illustrations, i definitely recommending checking out her shop!

in conclusion i hope this post can be helpful to you!! i tried to explain how to use the brushes as best as i could, but feel free to let me know if anything is unclear!! i hope you will enjoy using them! :D

[works-of-heart]

A little chat about my art

-wip of a fox Lucien Vanserra (I plan to do a fawn elain too)

Over the course of a week or so, I have been getting harassed by anons who accused me of using AI in my work, and not being a legitimate artist. Most have been very, VERY accusatory and nasty and I was tempted to make an angry post about it then, but instead I just ignored them, deleted their comments and went on with life.

Yesterday morning I woke up to the ask about AI, and while I was fed up with all these sudden asks, the person who asked me was at least kind.

I don't know where the accusations started, I thought it might have been antis, but if I'm real about it, I don't think too many are looking at my stuff, say for the few strays I had in the past. Only one negative, and one quite positive.

I do not know if people understand what kind of accusations like that makes of an artist, but it IS hurtful! If people start spreading lies, people will believe them and with enough people believing them, it starts to look like it's true.

I have NEVER used AI in ANY of my works. EVER.

All of my work has all been done digitally on my tablets, using CSP. I have been drawing digitally for over 20 years. It is fine if you do not like my work, it's totally ok if you think my anime style is ugly or childish, it's alright if you think I'm not a great artist. All of that is fine, I respect everyone's opinion.

What is NOT ok, is saying that I am stealing art. That I am a fake who uses AI and I'm stealing from legitimate artists who put work into it. I've worked for my art all my life, since I was a child, with the only aspiration to share the wonders of my mind with the world. These accusations, these hurtful things cut very deep.

I've been a fan of Acotar since 2020, and in love with Elucien ever since then. When I looked online, I found that most Elucien/Lucien art was buried under mountains of Elriel. There are some amazing artists for Elriel, truly beautiful, but they were eclipsing any that I saw for my ship. The ones I found of Elucien were beautiful! Stunning diamonds that would often get lost under the mountains of fan art for the other ships.

So when I made a blog that would be more focused on my love of Acotar and Elucien, I made a vow to fill the space with Elucien art!

That is all I ever wanted to do. Was to be in a space I can geek out with others who love the ship as much as I do, to make pieces that make everyone feel. I spent hours working on my elucien comics, just because I wanted to share these with you all, to give the feels. I am a comic creator myself, I've been working as one for almost 10 years now, it is my job. So pushing these out are works of love.

This was my mother's day picture. I had 3 separate folders for Elain, Lucien, and their daughter. I worked very, very hard on this picture to get it out by the day, in celebration for mother's day. My work is always a bit rough in the beginning stages, but I promise, I put all the work into it. I've studied from other artists I admire, to put it into my own style, something unique to me. A style that I've drawn since HS and was constantly mocked for, because it's too 'anime' too 'asian' and not western enough. Still, that doesn't matter as long as people enjoy it, and I love what I do.

An elucien wip of a picture that I never finished.

A picture of a Non-Acotar work I did

Some of my work never sees the light of day... because I'm so self conscious about my work, about my art in general. I never think it's good enough, and I struggle with trying to finish them because I want to only put out what I think is worthy of being shown. Sharing my art is so incredibly nerve-wracking for me, the fear of judgment, of never feeling it's good enough. I put my all into my work, my whole heart and soul into them, and though I know I need more practice, but I am trying.

Suffice to say, I've never used any form of AI in my art, I've never stolen anyone's work and claimed it as my own. I have referenced poses every now and then, and painting styles that I've studied, but never have I EVER cheated through any of these pictures.

Had someone had a real concern, coming to me and asking politely would be fine. Thank you to the anon yesterday who was truly kind and showing concern, but I don't know where this started from. If you are concerned a work may be illegitimate, you can always DM the artists and ask them kindly, I am sure they will no doubt be willing to prove their work if only to confirm they're real. Witch hunts where you just deem someone of using AI and spreading rumors and lies does MORE harm to the art community than you think. Artists are already hesitant about uploading their work for fear it will be stolen or used, but claiming they use AI with NO PROOF, and spreading misinformation is not only doing damage and making sure they'll never want to post again, but it impacts the community as a whole.

That being said, I am still going to draw and paint and post my artwork. I have no intention of backing down. I just hope as a community we can do better and be kinder to people who are spending their free time making things and sharing with us all. It's incredibly vulnerable to put yourself out there, and just remember, we are people behind these screens.

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Angel Neil 😇🩵

WIP Wednesday (9/11) | Guardian Angel Neil AU (Part 232)

"You know, it's sort of funny," Neil starts off. And by the tone of his voice, Andrew can tell whatever he's about to say isn't the slightest bit funny. "I didn't know this would be my forever outfit when I put it on that morning. You know? I had no idea I was going to die that night. I guess if I had known, I wouldn't be dead at all. I would've just ordered take out instead of going to that diner."

Andrew turns to look at the angel, "Diner?"

"The one where they caught up with me," Neil answers, keeping his eyes on his work. “I was on my way back to my motel room when they grabbed me. My last meal was a greasy burger and some half-cooked fries. Pathetic, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is." Andrew confirms, making Neil exhale pitifully. He watches Neil's fingers as he finishes up the sewing. It doesn't take him very long at all. Within a couple minutes, he's tying off the thread and using his teeth to cut it in two.

Neil starts to pull the hoodie back on and Andrew has to hold in a disappointed sigh. Watching Neil's skin disappear under gray fabric must be punishment for something he doesn't remember doing. Luckily, he's got his perfect memory to rely on. He can look at Neil's scars anytime he closes his eyes.

"Ta-da," Neil says with a smile, showing off his newly-fixed shirt like he's a fashion model. Andrew thinks in another life, Neil could've been a model. He has the cheekbones for it. The eyes. The hands. The everything. He makes that potato sack of a hoodie look good, at least to Andrew.

"It looks good on you," slips out of Andrew's mouth. When Neil's mouth quirks, Andrew curses himself for being born with a tongue. "I mean, since you're stuck with it forever. At least it looks good on you."

"Mm. Thanks for this," Neil says, holding out the sewing kit. Andrew lets Neil drop it into his hand and curls his fingers around it to absorb the residual warmth. Neil tests out his newly-patched pocket and seems satisfied. "It's good as new. Not like I have to carry anything in it. But it's good to know I have options."

"Do you get hot wearing it all the time?" Andrew asks abruptly.

"In the summer I did. It was hot as shit up here. But now that it's November, it's pretty comfortable most of the time." Neil tells him. "Why?"

"Can you change clothes?" Andrew asks suddenly. "Or is that really your forever outfit?"

"I'm not sure. I haven't tried."

"Why not?"

"I don't have anything else to put on," Neil says with a shrug. "Everything I had was in my bag in... Well, I actually have no idea where it would be now. I doubt Lola or Romero brought my duffel along. So it probably just ended up in a trash heap somewhere."

Andrew catches a new deal about Neil's past and grabs onto it with his teeth. "Lola and Romero?"

Neil freezes. "I don't want to talk about them."

"All right," Andrew says simply. He's got a mile long list of people he never wants to speak of again, so get gets it. He won't press. (Not now anyway.) But he'll definitely add those two names to the Neil Folder he keeps in his head. Maybe he'll pay a visit to good ol' Mr. Google later and see what turns up. "You could always get new clothes, you know."

"Yeah. I've thought about it. I'm invisible, after all. Even if I wasn't, it wouldn't be too hard to swipe some things here and there," Neil says, like he's used to shoplifting. "But there's cameras everywhere nowadays. I don't wanna get caught. Can't really explain a floating pair of pants, you know?"

Andrew nods. He supposes that makes for an interesting problem. One that's easily solved. "If I got you some other clothes, would you wear them?"

Neil's expression flickers into something strange. "I guess so. But... Why would you wanna waste money on a dead man? I'm fine in this."

"Maybe I'm tired of looking at gray," Andrew offers. It's a weak explanation and complete bullshit, but it's all he's got. He looks Neil up and down. "What size are you anyhow?"

"Uh," Neil looks a bit clueless. Then he twists the hoodie around until he can check the tag. Andrew's eyes are drawn to the bit of skin peeking from under it. "This one's a large."

Since it's very obviously too big for him, Andrew makes a mental note to buy Neil a few medium-sized shirts. Then he reconsiders it. What if something tighter irritated his scars? Begrudgingly, Andrew erases his last mental note. Size large it is.

[random-thot-generator]

Thots go brrr so...

More medieval AU, this time with Good King John (Price).

Good King John who just wants his bratty Princess, dammit. A.K.A. - When a Good King Goes Bad

TW- MDNI 18+ Only- explicit sexual content, sexual situations and language, brief bloody violence, bit of bdsm- spanking, brat taming, mentions of bondage and impact play, my usual brand of fluffy smut

Notes - I know, I know... I've got two unfinished series and an embarrassing amount of WIPs in my drafts folder, but I can't help it. Soo... sorry, not sorry. No beta- embrace the imperfections.

warning banner by: @cafekitsune

-

Good King John, who went to a lot of trouble to earn your hand in marriage, only to have his best knight, Sir Simon - the Ghost, duped into delivering a chambermaid to him, instead. Oh, how you must have laughed, wicked little Princess that you are, thinking you had got one over on him. And you did, you tricksy little minx. Your trick worked, Princess, but playtime is over, now. It's time to come home and take your rightful place by his side as his queen.

Good King John, who makes the long journey to your kingdom to fetch you home himself, only to be thwarted again when your father, the conquered king, informs John that you snuck out of the castle under cover of darkness and escaped to parts unknown. John knows this is a lie, of course, but he can't fault your father for trying to protect his only child. Still, the wedding banns have been posted throughout the realm, so he will be taking his bride-to-be home with him, whether you or your father like it or not.

Good King John, who sends his spies out into your father's kingdom to discover what they can of your where-abouts. He knows well enough that it's the servants who are privy to everything that transpires within the walls of any castle, and so directs his spies to concentrate on them, specifically. It isn't long before their inquiries are soon rewarded.

Good King John, who is informed by one of his spies that you have disguised yourself as one of the servants at the castle. You've been masquerading as a male youth, a stable hand of all things, working and sleeping in the stables with the horses. His spies also report that you have also concocted a most devious scheme to lead John on a wild goose chase. You paid a sailor in silver coin to spread the rumor that he saw you boarding a ship bound for the Silk Coast, which is many weeks and leagues away. John can't help but be impressed by your adept little mind, wicked as it is. He has to reach down and adjust himself at the thought of soon having you all to himself.

Good King John, who decides to play along with your ruse, so orders his knights to commandeer a ship and begin the preparations for the long voyage to the Silk Coast. He must make it seem like he's fallen hook, line and sinker for your devious little plot. Later that evening, while dining with your father, the conquered king, and your stepmother, his trophy queen, John reveals to them his plans to follow in your wake and bring you home. He then requests to borrow one of your father's many servants for the journey. Thinking King John has fallen for your trick, your father happily acquiesces to his request. "You may take whichever servant suits your needs best," the conquered king offers magnanimously.

Good King John, who arrives at the stables before dawn, waking the stablemaster and telling him he is there to select a 'lad' from among the stable hands present. John spots you immediately, sleeping on a pile of hay. "That one will do," he says, pointing you out. The stablemaster, no wiser to the ruse than anyone else, kicks you awake and tells you to go with King John. Unable to refuse, what else can you do but go along with him or risk exposing yourself.

Good King John, who feels near giddy with excitement, knowing he now has his princess in hand. Sure, he could forfeit the gold he spent on chartering a ship and simply take you back to his castle, but then he'd have to lock you away and keep you under constant guard even after the two of you are wed. John knows he will have to win you over to tame your shrewish heart, and so decides to allow your ruse to continue.

Good King John, who boards the ship with you, having you lug his heavy saddlebags as you follow along behind him, instructing you to ready his cabin for him while he discusses the upcoming voyage with the captain. You nod and just barely catch yourself before you curtsy before him. Stable hands don't curtsy, you silly ninny! You give a quick bow and scurry away to do his bidding, thinking you'll sneak off the ship while he's distracted with the captain.

Good King John, who is no fool when it comes to your tricks, locks you inside the cabin then orders the captain to set sail immediately, trapping you aboard the ship with him. He returns later to find you glumly staring out of the porthole. "What's the matter, lad? Already feeling seasick?" he asks you, making a valiant effort to hide his smug smirk. He then has you join him on deck to watch your home recede into the distance as the sails billow and snap before catching the wind There's no escape for you now, but as soon as you put into the next port, you'll be gone.

Good King John, who orders you about like the servant you supposedly are, telling you to help swab the decks, then puts you to work in the galley. By the time he tells you to fetch his dinner and turn down his bed for the night, you're exhausted. Nothing pleases him more than to see your pinched expression when he sends you out yet again after dinner, this time to fetch him hot water so that he can wash. Even better is your look of dismay when you return only to be ordered to help him disrobe and bathe him.

Good King John, who revels in your awkward state as you help remove his clothing, stripping him down until he proudly stands before you in all his nude glory. You've never seen a grown man naked before and struggle to keep your eyes averted from his crown jewels as he patiently waits for you to wash every bare inch of his skin. Is this thing supposed to jut out like a jousting lance, you wonder as you take him in hand and drag your soapy fingers over his length.

Good King John, who is almost cross-eyed with the pleasure of your touch. Your soft hands have already lathered him from stem to stern, but to feel them now wrapped around his cock as you bathe him is almost his undoing. "Gods above! That's good enough, lad," he rasps out in a gravelly voice, clamping a hand around your wrists to stop your hands before he paints the front of your homespun tunic with his seed. You blink up at him with a fevered gaze, breaths softly panting.

Good King John, who listens to your exhausted little snores drift up from your pallet on the floor later that night, wanting nothing more than to pull you up on the narrow bed with him and test the strength of the ropes supporting his thin mattress. It is too soon for such things, unfortunately. Your curiosity has definitely been piqued, if your wide-eyed stare and firm grip on his cock were any indication, but he'll have to win over your heart and mind, if he's going to convince you to stay of your own accord. You're a willful creature, too smart and opinionated for your own good, but that's what first attracted him to you. He knows he's playing with fire, keeping you in his quarters, but he's certain he can control his desires long enough to win you over.

Good King John, who spends a week in close quarters with you aboard the ship. During this time, the duration of his sponge baths has lengthened considerably, taking much longer than the first time. John is more than happy to allow you to take your time as you become intimately familiar with his body, relishing your touch despite how torturous it is. He groans and his head falls back as your soapy hands cup his balls and lather his cock. Forcing himself to make you stop yet again finally breaks his iron will. Something has got to give, he decides. It's time to end this ruse of yours.

Good King John, who is at his wit's end, forms a most devious scheme of his own. After encouraging you to bathe and change in his cabin, he pretends to leave, saying he needs to speak with the captain. He waits outside the door and listens until he hears the splash of water, then enters the cabin again. There he finds you in all your naked splendor, a mortified expression on your face. "Well, well, what do we have here? I leave behind a young lad and return to find a comely wench in his stead." he says with a mock frown, not bothering to hide how his eyes rake over your nude form.

Good King John, who leans against the door, blocking your only exit as he glowers down at you. You grab the nearest bit of clothing, one of his shirts it turns out, and quickly don it to hide your nakedness from his hungry gaze, but it's too little too late. His blue eyes burn you with their avid intensity. A lie is already sitting on the tip of your tongue to explain your presence in his cabin, but then he takes the wind completely out of your sails when he reveals that he's known who you are the entire time. "Come now, Princess. No need to fret. I am your betrothed, after all. You don't need to hide from me. We'll treat the rest of this voyage as a pre-honeymoon, so we can get to... know each other better." All you can do is gape at him before the reality of your situation finally sinks in. "I will never marry you," you vow.

Good King John, who chuckles at your bluster, which only incenses you more. Unlike everyone else, however, he doesn't shrink away from your viperous temper, laughing at you when you begin to hurl whatever you can get your hands on at his head. He ducks a hairbrush, a cup and a bar of soap as he stalks forward to grip your arms, yanking you into his chest. "Rage all you want, Princess. It won't change your situation. Now calm yourself before I turn you over my knee." You sputter and spit, eyes narrowed in fury. "You wouldn't dare lay a hand on me!" you hiss at him.

Good King John, who takes your words as a challenge and is having none of your sass. Pulling you over to the bed, he sits down and has you draped over his knees so fast your head spins. Your bare bottom is exposed when he rucks his shirt up your back, holding your squirming form with ease as he brings his large hand down on the globes of your ass with a loud crack! You gasp in shock at the sound before fire needles into the skin of your bum. It's not a bruising strike, but the humiliation of being spanked lights a fire in your belly. Your efforts to escape double, but it's all for naught. He holds you in place like a misbehaving toddler and smacks your ass again. "Keep it up, you little brat," he says with a dark laugh. "You're long overdue for a proper punishment, anyway, you spoiled little thing."

Good King John, who spanks you until your cheeks glow red, your bratty behavior inciting his lust like nothing else. He's already hard as granite and having you squirming and moaning on his lap is only making it worse. His large hands knead and massage your plush bottom, watching the way your hips grind against his flexed thigh. He can see your 'punishment' has affected you in much the same way when he glimpses how swollen and wet your pretty cunny has become.

Good King John, who can't resist the temptation and slides his calloused fingers along the cleft of your bum, following its path between your legs, hissing at how wet he finds you. You go still at the contact, breath hitching in your throat as your back arches to his touch. No man has ever touched you down there before, and the feeling confuses you. Though you're loathe to admit it, you like how he's touching you, and Gods help you, you want him to keep doing it!

Good King John, who is hanging onto his control by a thread. Reining in his raging libido, he sits you up on his lap and brushes the last of your angry tears from your cheeks. "There now," he soothes, shushing you. "That wasn't so bad, was it? Just needed a firm hand to calm you down, aye?" He slides his hand between your legs again, the tips of his fingers grazing your wet folds. "Would you like me to make you feel better? Hmm?" What else can you do but nod vigorously, desperate to see what else he can do with those rough fingers of his.

Good King John, who brings you to the edge of bliss, sliding his fingers through your wetness, worrying the sensitive nub at the apex of your thighs. "Poor needy girl," he coos in your ear. "I'll make it all better. You'll see." And he does. Great gods above, he does. His hands work you like a piece of malleable clay, all your fury now spent, sending you to the heights of ecstasy as you wail and writhe on his lap, two of his fingers buried in your spasming cunt.

Good King John, who soon has you addicted to the things he can do with his hands and his tongue and his cock. You find yourself going out of your way to cause trouble, just so he will "punish" you again and again. The memory of his cock in your mouth makes you drool with want. The thought of his tongue slithering up your pulsing channel makes your thighs clench as you soak through your small clothes. Whether he's binding you to the bed to edge you until you're a dripping, crying mess or slapping your greedy quim for coming without permission, even when he's pounding into you from behind to "teach ya a lesson, Princess," you're more than willing to submit to his whims.

Good King John, who has no illusions about you, despite your eager participation in bed. Given the chance, he knows you'll still bolt like a scared rabbit at the first opportunity. Then the captain speaks the dreaded words. "We're coming into port, my lord." Though wary, John can see how excited you are at the prospect of being back on land again, so agrees to take you into the port city for a short walk, so long as you dress in your stableboy clothing to draw less attention.

Good King John, who warns you not to attempt an escape. "This is not your father's kingdom, Princess. There are pirates and cutthroats who wouldn't hesitate to have their way with you before slitting your throat. Do not leave my side, understood?" You eagerly agree, thinking he's simply trying to scare you. You're certain once you mention who your father is, these so-called pirates and cutthroats will be tripping over themselves to escort you home, especially when you tell them of the reward your father will pay out for your safe return.

Good King John, who allows you to lead him into a bazaar. You marvel at all the strange sights, all the exotic languages and unfamiliar smells. In truth, you lose yourself in the experience for a bit, catching yourself enjoying John's company. He is so well-traveled and knowledgeable, telling you about all the different places he has been, all the wonders he has seen. "Once we're wed, I'll set aside some time for us to travel. Would you like that?" he asks, and your current situation is once more at the fore of your mind. You can't fall weak to his charms. You must escape. He is your enemy, the man who conquered your father's kingdom and took you from your home.

Good King John, who pays no attention when you tug him into a busier section of the bazaar. There are throngs of people milling about, vendors hawking their wares, their loud cries and the bustling crowd serving as a distraction. Before he realizes what's happening, you let go of his hand and duck between two stalls, making a mad dash down a narrow alleyway. Your only thought is to evade and escape, knowing John and his men will be hot on your heels. Your path is winding and mindless, leading you further into the labyrinth of the city until you find yourself standing outside of a dingy looking tavern. Surely you can find someone inside who will be willing to help a poor damsel in distress.

Good King John, who is frantic with worry. He wasn't lying about the unsavory nature of this particular port city. Pirates and cutthroats do indeed frequent this port and would not hesitate to harm you or worse. Telling his men to fan out and find you, he takes his trusted knight Sir Kyle with him, questioning anyone who is willing to stop and listen. It's an old fishmonger who finally points him in your direction, saying a lad fitting your description nearly bowled him over.

Good King John, who slows in front of the same tavern you yourself found mere minutes before and sends Kyle in to search for you. No sooner does his knight enter the tavern when a startled cry sounds from an alleyway before being cut off. John feels his heart shoot straight up into his throat when he peers down the dark passage to see two men wrestling to subdue you. One of them snatches the cap from your head, your hair spilling out before the other one strikes you across the face. John sees red, bellowing like an enraged bull as he charges down the alley with sword unsheathed.

Good King John, who meets the blackguards head-on, his rage knowing no bounds as he hacks and stabs and slashes at the men who would dare to put their hands on you. By the time Sir Kyle finds him, John has hacked the men to death, blood flying from the tip of his sword as he draws back to strike again. "My lord!" he shouts, rushing to his king's side. "My lord, they are done for. Stop!"

Good King John, who is still seething with rage, turning a murderous eye on his own man. "My lord, 'tis I, Sir Kyle! Please, sire, we must be away. Grab the Princess and let us make haste back to the ship before you are discovered!" At the mention of his princess, John's fury evaporates as he turns his worried gaze to you. The devil who struck you has knocked you unconscious, your limp form collapsed against the wall. "My love," he whispers, gathering you into his arms before motioning for Kyle to lead the way back to the ship.

Good King John, who is beside himself with guilt and worry. He stares down at your still form, cursing himself for not keeping a closer eye on you. He knew the risks but was lulled by your sweet smiles and girlish charms, despite knowing your penchant for trickery. Now look what his failure has wrought. His beloved princess lying still as death in his bed. Even the ship's doctor cannot give him answers. "She seems hale and hearty, save for the goose egg on the back of her skull. I cannot say with any certainty when she will awaken, sire, or... even if she will awaken. I'm sorry, my lord. There is nothing more I can do."

Good King John, who sits by your bedside all through the night, rubbing warmth into your chilled fingers and stroking your brow. "Come back to me, my love, and I swear I'll return you to your home. I will leave you in peace and never plague you again if you will just open your eyes." Yet his pleas go unanswered, his bitter tears dampening the soft skin of your hand.

Good King John, who awakens to the feel of your fingers carding softly through his hair. Sitting bolt upright, he stares into your eyes, now open and alert. You frown, the prettiest pout he's ever seen on your lovely face. "My head hurts, John, and I've a powerful thirst. Is there wine in the carafe?"

Good King John, who calls the ship's doctor to his chambers to give you a thorough check-up. He pokes and prods, then calls you well and gives you a remedy for your pounding head and strict instructions to remain abed until the dizziness wears off. You lie in wait for John's return, certain you're due for a proper scolding, disappointed that it won't be one of his 'punishments' you receive, instead. However, John doesn't return. Servants do, with food and drink in hand. Hot water and soap are delivered as well, along with a lovely dressing gown and slippers. You sit on the edge of the bed and bathe, one eye on the door, expecting John to "surprise" you again, but still, he does not appear. You eventually fall asleep, head still turned towards the door in expectation.

Good King John, who honors his promise to you, even if you weren't awake to hear it at the time. His guilt knows no bounds, so he determines to deliver you safely back to your father. He tells the captain to turn the boat back towards the shores of your father's kingdom with a heavy heart. He knows he will surely pine for you the rest of his days, knowing no other woman will do now, that only you will ever hold his heart. He resigns himself to a lifetime of loneliness.

Good King John, who requests regular reports on your health and well-being, receives a request from you, delivered by the ship's doctor. "The Princess requests your presence in her chambers, sire. She's in a right fit of temper, if I do say so myself, my lord. She chucked a book at me for not answering her questions to her satisfaction." John can't help the wry smile on his face. His feisty princess doesn't put up with any guff. She's a warrior through and through, his lion-hearted minx.

Good King John, who enters his old quarters to find you pacing the worn floorboards. "Where have you been?" you demand, bottom lip jutting out as you cross your arms. "Is ignoring me my punishment for running away? If it is, it's not working. I don't care if I ever see you again!" A sad expression dims his ocean-blue eyes, but his smile is as kind and indulging as ever. "I understand your ire, my lo— ah, Princess, but fret no more. You will soon be relieved of the burden of my presence. We arrive at your kingdom on the morrow. I'm sure your father will be overjoyed to have you home again."

Good King John, who bids you a strained farewell and quickly removes himself from your cabin, leaving you to blink in shocked silence after him. He's returning you to your father? You slump on the bed, unable to process his sudden change of heart. Had your escape angered him enough that he's finally decided to wash his hands of you? Even at your worst, John withstood your tantrums and waspish words. He'd always been so kind and attentive and... loving. As realization sets in, a sadness like you've never known before settles in your breast.

Good King John, who sends his man Sir Kyle to collect you when the ship docks the next day. "Where's John?" you ask, as the knight hands you up into a waiting royal carriage. Sir Kyle avoids your sharp gaze, his mouth set in a grim line. "The king has gone ahead to meet with your father, my lady. I doubt you will see him again." Your heart constricts in your breast as the door slams shut and the carriage lurches into movement.

Good King John, who is in the throne room with your father when you arrive. The knights who guard the door deny you access, their pikes crossed to block your way. Oh, you throw a right strop until your ladies-in-waiting come to collect you, leading you down the corridor as you shriek like a harpy at the top of your lungs. They lock you in your chambers, leaving you to batter at the door with your fists until your strength is exhausted.

Good King John, who returns to his own kingdom a broken man. He spends his days staring out the windows and rubbing at the ache in his chest that has plagued him since he saw you last. He doesn't shirk his responsibilities, managing his kingdom and holdings with a firm and fair hand, but his heart is no longer in it. It has been cleaved in two and he fears it will never mend.

Good King John, who glowers down at a missive sent by your father, the conquered king. As he reads it over, a dozen carts laden with chests of gold and precious gems are delivered as well. His heart seizes in his chest as he reads the message your father has sent.

'May this find you well, Good King John. It shames me to say that since your departure, my castle has not known peace. You have surely bewitched my daughter, for nothing will soothe her anger except the promise of being reunited with you. I beg your mercy, good king. Please accept my daughter's dowry and know I fully endorse your marriage, if you are still inclined to take her as your bride. I wish you all the luck, good king, for you will surely need it.'

Good King John, who reads the missive several more times before a royal carriage with your father's crest comes clattering into the courtyard. He stares on in awe as a shrill voice erupts from the depths of the carriage. "Get this bloody door open! I want to see my husband! NOW!"

Good King John, whose smile could light up the night sky as he watches you step out of the carriage, sharp eyes searching the crowd until you spy him standing on the steps with his guards. Without a care for decorum, you snatch up your skirts and run to him, kitten heels pounding up the steps until you're standing before him, panting for breath, hair coming loose from its pins. Your eyes blaze with ire but are now tempered with an emotion much softer. "You're a fool if you think you're getting rid of me that easily, my husband."

Good King John, who roars with laughter as he catches you up in his arms and hugs you tightly to his chest. His heart is fit to burst when you cup his whiskered face in your hands and whisper, "Don't you ever leave me again, John."

Good King John, who kisses you soundly on the lips before whispering back, "Never again, my love. Never again."

-

Dark Knight! Ghost drabble (prequel)

[canarysage]

…color correct an image in photopea?

so, you’ve finally finished a psd. it’s everything you imagined and more. you go to apply it to your image and get…

…well, that. what the fuck, you may be thinking, this looked fine on my tester images! and it probably did! the problem with this image is that it’s just. overbearingly purple.

which may be fine for the image itself, but it doesn’t work for editing purposes. you end up with weird bits (why’s her hair blue? why’s the contrast so low?? what the fuck is happening) and an image that frankly hurts to look at. so, the question remains. how do you turn that into—

—something more like this? well, don’t worry, because i’m canarysage and i make things more confusing instead of less, and i’m here to save your eyes and psds

i. white balancing

if you keep up with photopea for dummies, you probably recognize this term from my post curves for dummies. i’ll go ahead and re-explain it, though.

white balancing is done using either a curves or levels layer—it doesn’t matter which, they both do the same function. i use levels because i don’t have to scroll to reach the eyedroppers on mobile LMFAO but they both do the exact same thing ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

add a levels/curves layer below your psd folder and turn the psd off. look at your image and determine what you think are the darkest and lightest parts—or, if it’s easier, what parts you want to convert to #000000 black and #ffffff white. once you’ve figured that out, go into your levels layer.

see those three squares at the bottom? that’s the important part. first thing i’m going to do is tap that black square. the black square turns whatever color you pick into #00000 black, so i’m going to use the eyedropper it pulls up and select a darker part of my image

for this picture, i selected ena’s pupil, because it’s rather grayish in the original. this will help add some contrast. (also i zoomed in really far because i have shaky hands and wanted to make sure i was “aiming” correctly. you don’t have to do that i’m just insane)

repeat this process with the white square. the white square turns whatever color you pick into #ffffff white, so pick a lighter part of your image. also, for the sake of my sanity, do not choose a skintone when doing that. for the love of god

mega zoom to the rescue again. i picked the whites of her eyes because those look really weird if they’re not white, frankly. other good choices are highlighted areas on objects or things that are already white (like the paper in her sketchpad)

now we’re going to do the gray square. this is the part which is trickiest, so don’t be annoyed if it takes a few tries. choose the color in your image that you want converted to gray—in other colors, figure out which color is most overpowering and select that. i recommend not picking a saturated color for this, because it’ll look—

—really bad. ow, green. i recommend picking a color that’s reasonably close to gray already, but it depends on how much correcting your image actually needs. you just have to eyeball it.

pixels. for this image, i chose the decals on this picture frame in the background; they’re reasonably close to gray but still purple enough to do the correcting i want.

after white balancing, your image should look significantly better already. here’s mine at this stage:

it’s a little strange, but that’s going to be covered by our psd anyway, so don’t worry about it. if your picture still looks really off, you can add a second levels/curves layer and white balance again, and you can just repeat that until it looks how you like it. i’m pretty happy with this, though, so we’re moving on.

ii. photo filter

(photopea refreshed on me so i had to recreate my white balancing, forgive me if it looks inconsistent. let this be a lesson on saving your wips as psds)

okay, step two! this one is way easier, don’t worry. add a photo filter layer above your white balancing layer and below your psd. fair warning, this step requires bare minimum knowledge of color theory—as in, what colors are opposite each other on the color wheel. godspeed

look at your image and figure out what looks off about it. feel free to toggle your psd on and off as you do this, it’ll help. in my case, mine ended up too warm and too saturated. so, to fix this, i’m adding a very low saturation green photo filter

which, obviously, made it… green:

to fix that, we’re just lowering the percentage of the photo filter here. how much you lower it depends on your image and your personal preference, but, for reference, i set mine to about 30%. if you want to, you can mess with blending modes and opacity in this step, but i just left it as is

yay, less green ^_^ like with the white balancing, you can add as many photo filters as you want. i’m real lazy so i’m just doing one, but you can just keep stacking them until your image looks right—sky’s the limit. for me, i’m going to step three:

iii. brightness/contrast

pretty self explanatory. brightness/contrast isn’t a color corrector; it’s a lighting corrector. it adds brightness and contrast, obviously. look at your image again with and without the psd, and figure out what it needs. the psd i’m using for this is pretty dark, so i’m adding brightness and lowering the contrast:

like so. this step can also be accomplished with curves, levels, or exposure, but brightness/contrast is the simplest and least finicky of those options, so i personally prefer it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

pretty minimal change, but i wanted to demonstrate this step anyway, as it can be pretty important on some images. with that done, time for the last step:

iv. selective color

like all the previous steps, this goes under your psd and above the other layers we’ve added. what exactly you do with selective color once again depends on your image and psd, but what i did was darken my blacks and whites,

very minimally adjust the neutrals,

remove magenta from magenta and add magenta to green,

and remove cyan from my reds and yellows.

which, all in all, gives me this:

which, if you’ll recall, is a far cry from our original image. now, if you turn the psd back on, you’ll get this:

which i consider a marked improvement from what we originally had. these steps can be mimicked on pretty much any image as long you tweak it enough. obviously you’ll have to finagle and adjust depending on your image, but it’s actually pretty easy! observe:

…so that’s how you do it.

[anisecandy]

Ughhh, today I spent the entire day thinking about spidervenom…!

I unfortunately have too many wips to work on anything with them now (plus, this week was full of Bad Days™ for me…), but I thought I might share a wip that has been gathering dust in my folder for a loooooong time now! The title is “5 times when Peter and Eddie didn’t kiss (and one time they held hands)” and it’s based on this idea that with the reality being rewritten so that Peter technically never married MJ (“One more day” was the name of that storyline in the comics…??) he instead has space to develop feelings toward Venom and this is a bunch of moments, mostly following the canon events, depicting their shifting relationship with each other.

Their first kiss wasn't, technically, a kiss. A tease, maybe. Definitely a joke. But a kiss...? Peter wasn't sure if he counted it (Eddie did, though). Simply speaking, he went too far with his comedy routine this time, got too caught up in his banter and mock-flirting. Laughing at the Symbiote's infatuation with him, not treating it as something serious, using it as the butt of the jokes. "You need to get over me, this is getting seriously embarrassing" and such and so on.

And obviously, the never dying "Alright, let's kiss and make up!", Once he webbed them up, after sending them crashing through a wall. It wasn’t a kiss, really. He had a mask on, after all. Venom's maw was sealed shut with the webbing as well. It wasn't a kiss.

Until it almost was, because when he leaned away, blank white eyes were wide with bewilderment, and the monster in front of him grew still and silent. He laughed awkwardly, breath tripping over his throat. "Aw, look at you getting flustered over a little smooch!", he quipped, eager to get away. Snap of a wrist and he was gone, not a single glance back left. He remembered feeling angry at Venom for making it weird and at himself, for feeling angry at all. It was stupid, almost as stupid, as feeling guilty over it.

There was no reason for telling this to MJ, right? She wouldn't want to hear about his heroic escapades anyway. Especially not if they involved Venom, even if they would be presented as a punchline, a pathetic loser, wincing in ridiculously parodied expression of disgust. Because it could have been disgust. Venom’s face was covered and their eyes weren’t exactly the most easy to read. Common sense prompted they were repulsed by the very idea of their “arch-nemesis” kissing them, even presented as a harmless joke. That’s why, there was no need to mention this to MJ. Telling her would mean agreeing with the insane thought that there was anything important to tell. And there was not. There was no reason to feel guilty.

Because this wasn’t a kiss.

There was another time, though, that could have been a kiss. Should have been, maybe. Anyway, that was what Peter thought now, looking back. It was a kiss he never got, but, at the moment, needed. Only at the moment, he would have regretted it so much afterwards. 

That’s why Eddie was glad of the absence in its place. It would have added so much more wrongness to a memory already filled with a sense of misplacement and dissonance. Because, well, they really were out of place at Peter’s flat. He knew it, and Peter knew it, and the Symbiote knew it, maybe the most painfully of either of them. But there was nowhere else they could go, they needed a shelter and an ally. And Peter wasn’t really the type of person who would close doors in the face of the wounded and vulnerable. Even if the wounded in question tried to eat him a few times in the past and was now ruining his carpet with green drool. Which didn’t mean he was going to take it without complaining a little. Or a lot.

“Great, just great, whenever I think my bad luck finally achieved its peak, it’s ‘Surprise! Think again!’,” he wailed to himself, as he helped them to the couch. “To go from sharing an apartment with the most beautiful woman a guy could ever imagine dating, to hosting a slimy monstrosity - that has to be a new record of misery reached in a week!”

“A girl has left you? That’s what you’re worrying about?” Eddie snarled at him, his anger equally fueled by the necessity of relying on their foe and the needles of jealousy bleeding through the bond. “Carnage is out there, changing this god forsaken city in his own butchershop and you cry after a girl?!”

“First of all, I wouldn't say ‘left’ is exactly the right word to describe it,” he huffed. “We needed a break, that’s all. Happens sometimes in relationships, not that you would know anything about that.”

They rolled their eyes. The very idea that Peter could have anything worth competing with a shadow of their symbiosis was vastly ridiculous.

“We don’t care about your private life, Parker”, Eddie said, as they tried to settle on the couch in a position that would do the least damage to their bruised ribs. “Only whether or not you’ll join us once we recover our strength. Why, afterward, you can return to crying your eyes out, be our guest.”

Seeing Peter from this close felt weird, especially, since he appeared to indeed cry his eyes out barely seconds ago. Something squeezed Eddie’s heart at the notion, his Other, he assumed, must have curled around it, disturbed by proximity. He wanted Peter to just leave them alone, shut up, and let them sleep. This small room will surely be uncomfortable enough even without his presence around.

“And what if I won’t?” Peter’s voice was bitter, though there was no sense of intention in it, that is, one beyond getting on Venom’s nerves. “Maybe MJ is right, maybe I should sit this one out. Have some ‘me time’. Catch up with tv series. Bake cupcakes. Maybe I don’t want to, I don’t know, have my life ruined over and over again, because some freaks decided to go on a rampage!”

Before he could react, they grabbed him by his collar, tugging close, to shoot with a look of utter resentment.

“Listen chucklehead,” a low growl vibrated through their whole torso, settling on Peter’s face like icy dew, “Joke like this once more, and we’ll eat your spleen, got it?”

Words were followed by a curse, as they grabbed on their wound, bothered by the sudden movement.

“Well, if aren’t you mister persuasive, where did you learn such diplomatic demeanor-?” Peter tried barking back, supporting himself over the couch’s back. But the last part of the sentence stumbled over his throat and ended in a whine. From the few inches that separated them, they could see the threat of tears glistening in his eyes. Before they could fall out, he ran a hand over his face, covering the glimpse of emotions with irritation. “What did you even do to yourself? Should you bandage those or something?”

That felt terribly inadequate.

All of this felt unnatural to them, all of them. Not the banter, spite and anger, of course not. But everything accompanying them was off by a mile. No masks to hide faces, no punches and jaws clenching to tear limbs. This… this was too normal, too everyday-ish, too vulnerable for both of them.

“My Other should be able to close it up overnight,” Eddie mumbled. “It looks worse than it feels. Nonetheless, we still request your assistance.”

“I know, I know…” Peter sighed, bending closer, to get a better look at his chest. “What a wonderful profession heroism is, at first it was the papers, then the common people, but now even my villains are giving me lectures…”

The moment was laced with alarm, and surprise, and wrongness, so much wrongness. They weren’t used to being this close to each other, not without a clawed hand safely locked on the neck, or webbing fastening said claws to a wall. Peter looked up and the longer they were caught in the misplacement of it all, the worse it got. Because Eddie could feel his Other flowing close to the skin, almost pushing at it, conflicted between its hatred for Peter and yearning to be closer. Because Peter could feel the warmth of Eddie’s body and he felt so painfully human at the moment, beaten up and a bit upset, with just a splinter of fear dug in the pupils.

Eddie licked his lips.

Peter swallowed down.

And he was so lonely right now, so helpless and freshly torn open, so well aware that once tomorrow he would leave to fight, because of course he would, he would return bruised and bleeding, maybe won’t return at all, and…

Peter leaned in.

Just when Eddie leaned away.

Peter went to the kitchen right after, jumping up from the couch with energetic babble about having to change his bandages and how Eddie is not allowed to touch anything and how if he catches him messing up his books then, well, Peter might not be able to eat his spleen, but he’s creative enough to come up with something else.

The moment passed and it was for the best.

After that, they didn’t really work together for a while. Well, there was that one time in the court. But aside from that, Peter and Venom mostly were on their own ways, only occasionally clashing. And then, Eddie and his Other were both on their own ways too. He didn’t really monitor what was happening to him afterward. Partly because his own life was, as usual, in shambles. Partly because seeing Eddie like that, sick and broken, stripped of the anger to hide behind…

He tried to do better and that was all that mattered, really. 

But then Anti-Venom appared. And surely enough, he was still trying. That was one thing Peter had to give to him. He also brought to mind a vision of a healing injury, with bones fused all wrong, festering. It was as if Eddie finally took a step back from one kind of madness, after which he jumped head first into one just as deep and unhealthy, just neatly tweaked here and there. 

This kiss would have been the most feverish one. As well as the one Peter was the most grateful that it never came to happen.

The whole experience screamed “fever”, honestly. Oozed illness.What made it worse, was that it did make sense for Eddie to act this way. To swing back, so hard, from one direction to another. Who else, if not Eddie, would have come up with an idea that the best course of action to convince Peter that he’s all better now, “on the side of angels” and not crazy at all, would be to kidnap him? What he didn’t expect was the talk about friendship, along with the overfamiliarity. Then again, there was always this tension between them, wasn’t it? Flirting in the background of a deadly battle.

And that was what he was doing then too. Old habits die a slow and painful death, only to be zombified back to life, don't they?

“What would you think of me, if I’d let you take my mask off on a first date?”, he quipped, to Eddie’s dismay, as he struggled to peel the cloth anywhere above his mouth.

“You act like I’m Electro or Sandman. I’m on your side now!”, he huffed.

One of his claws strayed from its place, lingering for a moment over Peter’s lips, leaving his body frozen dead.

Oh no, he wouldn’t, blinked in his head before the monster in front of him hesitantly crouched down. Orange eyes were unreadable, and yet, there was an air of uncertainty, something just a step away from… what exactly? Peter refused to pinpoint.

Before, though, he even began to figure out what in the hell he would tell Carlie, Eddie backed down.

“...I get it.” His voice, although still changed by the slime covering him, got a softer quality now, with a tingle that paired with anybody else could pass for embarrassment. “I need to earn your trust. And I will.”

Later, he thought that perhaps this time it was Eddie who really needed that particular kiss. But he couldn’t have given it to him. He just couldn’t. 

Right?

[anogete]

Hi. Update of random shit in case anyone cares.

The scary test I was stressed over in the fall when I was posting my last fic? It was the CFP (Certified Financial Planner) exam. Yes, I passed it. The designation requires a bachelor's degree, so I had to go back to school to finish my last 10 classes. Then I had to take 7 more classes that are pre-reqs for the exam. Then I spent probably 700 hours attempting to cram everything you could think of related to personal finance (my god, there is a metric shit ton) into my head. The designation also requires 5,000 hours of experience in the planning field (which I thankfully already had). By the time I passed the test, I was no longer proud of the accomplishment, just relieved to have it behind me.

Work was intensely busy in November and December. I got little reading and no writing done.

I have a WIP featuring the Darcy/Rumlow pairing that has been languishing on my computer since 2020. To be honest, I've mosty forgotten what the conflict driving the plot was going to be. I think I was trying to tie it into the events of Wandavision. Took place after the show and had Monica Rambeau and Darcy kinda sorta working together and trying to figure out what, if anything, crossing the barrier that Wanda had thrown up did to them. Of course, Rumlow is alive and scarred and back with the good guys. And also really annoyed that his recent gunshot wound stuck him on desk duty watching the nerds complete their physicals as part of employee onboarding. Darcy doesn't want to have gym class with Rumlow, and Rumlow doesn't want to be there either but he's also kinda into the sassy brunette who tried to sweet talk him into passing her without making her run a mile. In the chapter or two I did write, the banter between Darcy and Rumlow was so fun, so I'd love to go back to it and try to move it along.

I got sucked into reading Draco/Hermione fanfic recently. Blame those damn Snow edits from the latest Hunger Games movie. Guys, I have never read those books or seen the movies, but blonde Tom Blyth is looking like the fanfic Draco of my dreams. How dare. This rabbit hole led to me deciding I needed to write a Dramione piece. It's maybe 6 pages and has gone nowhere even though I have a vague idea of the plot. My muse is struggling.

I found my old folder of all the fic I wrote in the past 20 years. There are still a couple hockey fics I haven't posted to AO3. There are also Anita Blake fics (I was a hardcore Anita/Edward girlie) and Harry Potter fics (don't cancel me but I used to write Snape/Hermione; NO student/teacher stuff though). I think I have an old Doctor Who fic featuring Nine/Rose (yes, I'm a Nine girlie). And a very old Forgotten Realms fic that paired Catti-Brie up with Jarlaxle. Look, I don't know. It was ages ago. With the exception of the hockey fics, I do not think any of these are of the same quality I've posted on AO3, but I've been toying with the idea of trying to clean them up and posting them so more of my work is archived together instead of spread over various fan sites. Does anyone have any interest at all in reading this shit? Like, at all?

I decided 2024 is going to be my book binding era. I bound isthisselfcare's Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love a couple weeks ago. I did all the typesetting with the help of some macros. Printed it, folded the signatures (the booklets that comprise the book), sewed them together with waxed linen thread, glued the text block together with some mull, and used chip board and book cloth to make the case. It feels and looks like a book, y'all! I could do a better job with lining the signatures up when punching the holes for sewing and with the measurements on the case, but overall I am pretty proud of it. If anyone is interested, I can link a nice tutorial series on TT and/or post progress pictures I took during my book binding experiment. I have to say, it's exciting to have the ability to put my fav fanfics on my physical bookshelf.

[ushsblog]

A very strange dream I had about Cedlock

(yes, just as you read)

This, as always, is a rambling of mine telling the dream I had of a very strange fic I dreamed I wrote. If you're not interested in Cedlock, you probably won't be interested in this, so keep scrolling. Thanks!

So lately, I've been working as much as I can on some WIPs I had pending (though I keep creating new ones instead of finishing the old ones, lol), and I've been especially focused on finishing my Cedlock fic that I mentioned the other day.

I think maybe I've been thinking about it too much because yesterday, somehow, I dreamed about it.

But it was a really strange dream, to be honest. I wasn't writing my Cedlock fic where Greylock tries to ask Cedric out, but rather something weird that I found amusing.

Did I just get a fic idea revealed to me in a dream?

In my dream, I was editing a WIP I had in my folder that was about Cedric being engaged to King Magnus. Stay with me, I know how it sounds, lol.

Yes, it was pretty strange. According to what I was reading in my Word document, King Roland had arranged Cedric's engagement to Magnus as part of some treaty or agreement (my dream didn’t make much sense, and the words looked weird).

Something happened in the middle that I don’t remember reading, and then there was a part about how Cedric was (Obliged) moving to Rudistan’s castle, where he met Greylock, who was more than angry about the situation.

I mean, I think he was angry because Cedric had married Magnus and not him, ahahaha.

Anyway, then something else happened that I don’t remember, but it was something like Magnus mocking Greylock and basically rubbing the marriage in his face.

And then, well, I wish I could remember how it ended. But I do remember that in my dream, I was like: This is the best thing I've ever written.

And then I woke up and just laughed at that idea.

Dreams are weird.

[you-remind-me-of-the-babe]

An ask game for writers to procrastinate working on your WIPs

Thank you for tagging me @ic3-que3n @theearlgreymage @wellbelesbian @shrekgogurt @orange-peony @youarenevertooold @whatevertheweather @thewholelemon @cutestkilla @aristocratic-otter @monbons @emeryhall @valeffelees (wow everyone is out here playing huh?)

🦈Tell us the name of your / one of your WIP(s)

As of right now, I’m going with Back and Back and Back but that may change.

🍄Decscribe your wip / one of your wips in the format of “___ + ___ =___”

Past flashbacks in which Baz grows up being visited by an older Simon in the woods outside his house in Hampshire + current 7th year Simon suddenly finds himself traveling back in time to visit young Baz = both Simon and Baz trying to figure out what’s happening in the present, resulting in them falling in love in a mesh of past and present

🌍What tags or warnings will your / one of your wip(s) need if you intend to share it?

Soulmates, time travel, canon divergent, Watford-era, angst with a happy ending, kid!Baz, lightly inspired by Time Traveler’s Wife.

🧭An alternative title to your / one of your WIP(s)?

I mentioned this last week, but I quite like Start at the End, even though I don’t think it technically is accurate or describes the fic.

⚠️Which wip you’re most likely to finish or update next?

Idk, this one will be quite long, but everything else in my WIP folder are just attempts at starting a premise I liked, but none of them have gotten much traction, so probably this one? Hopefully?

💾What is your document of your wip / a wip called? (not the stories actual title but what you’ve saved it as)

Time Travel AU

🖍Post Any sentence from your wip

He whistles, looking around and finally taking the time to fully appreciate the tree house.

“Did you make this?”

“With help,” I explain. “Some from Father. Mostly from you.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise. That’s one thing I’ve yet to figure out, why he forgets. Sometimes, he remembers our past visits with more detail than I do. As if they’d just happened the day before instead of years ago. Other times, he can’t remember something as big as building a treehouse with me. He reminds me of my grandmother, when her dementia had its grips on her. She’d recall something from her childhood so clearly, and the next minute, she’d forget my name.

Father didn’t want me to call attention to it in front of her. He said it would only make her more confused. So I don’t mention it to him, either. We just sort of…dance around it, without mentioning it outright. (He’d fit right in with my family, honestly.) I just clarify things and then we move on.

♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP

I was thinking about having the Humdrum be a time traveling younger Simon, or something like that, in addition to current Simon being a time traveler. Like, they discover there’s another version of him traveling, but I thought that would be too confusing. So instead, he’s just the regular ol’ Humdrum.

🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

I have a lil Drabble in my head about Baz being sad while his wedding ring is getting fixed by the jewelers for a week so Simon has to cheer him up. (It me. Rubbing my empty ring finger all week while it’s getting fixed and I hate it not being there.)

🤡How many Wips are you actively working on?

Actively? I think just this one right now. There are about 4 other half starts from earlier this year when I was just throwing spaghetti noodles at the wall to see what stuck. Some of them I may come back to if I get a burst of inspiration or something.

🛠Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

(One of) the big reveals because the scene carries a lot of emotional weight, and I want to do it right.

❤️Not a question, just a second kudos to send.

And kudos to anyone who read this far!

Anyone else want to play? @facewithoutheart @hushed-chorus @iamamythologicalcreature @ileadacharmedlife @blackberrysummerblog @run-for-chamo-miles @mooncello @angelsfalling16 @artsyunderstudy and anyone else interested! 💜

[vicsbasement]

so the gorgeous and talented mal (@f1-stuff) tagged me on this ages ago but i was taking a break (and also drowning in work) so let's see who wants to see some of my wips (and this way maybe I end up writing more instead of just avoiding it like i've been doing since july)

Rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

charles is jealous of teto

puppy love

clingy charles

can't wait to soar chapter 7 (aka actors!au)

hades!au (in this case gotta talk about it because i'm playing the hades videogame and i have some ideas but i have to figure out the roles of some of the other drivers in it)

anyway hit me up if you want to see some of it, yeah?

tagging @watercolor-hearts, @moossings, @steviethenarwhal and @7msc (I know I'm super late to this so if you already did it feel free to ignore me)