#i do... but i envy you. i wish i was a construct in a story too

[mihai-florescu]

The quiet harmony of not having a friend group amennn i love the peace of my solitude so much. It sounds like copium but im being so, so fr. If i get lonely i can just open a book

[bi-bard]

Unreal Unearth - Hozier Writing Challenge Masterlist

Hello! Here's the writing challenge masterlist for Hozier's "Unreal Unearth".

This is easily one of the most beautiful albums I've ever listened to it. It is full of gorgeous lyrics and music. I hope that the stories I have constructed for it can reflect that.

I hope you guys enjoy these stories!

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

De Selby (Pt. 1)

And Sit Unseen, With Only the Inner Upheld Jack Kline X Reader [Supernatural] Summary: Two Nephilims find themselves taking shelter with the Winchesters. However, no safety and security could match up to true connection and understanding.

De Selby (Pt. 2)

I Wanna Fade Away with You Dick Grayson X Reader [HBO's Titan] Summary: (Y/n) and Dick's connection was one to be envied. By friends and family and anyone who had known them. This connection is good until it seems to be turning Dick into someone different. Now, the biggest question is whether or not that change is bad.

First Time

Some Part of Me Came Must Have Died the Final Time You Called Me, "Baby" Joel Miller X Reader [HBO's The Last of Us] Summary: Joel is offered a rare glimpse of hope after the apocalypse had started. However, the universe can pull away signs of hope just as fast it can offer them.

Francesca

If I Could Hold You for a Minute, I'd Go Through It Again Charles Rowland X Witch!Reader [Dead Boy Detectives] Summary: Whoever claimed that risking your life was only for the living had never seen the true devotion of a ghost before.

I, Carrion (Icarian)

But If We Fall, I Only Pray, Don’t Fall Away from Me Captain Sean Renard X Reader [Grimm] Summary: (Y/n)'s new reality forces many secrets to come to light and many decisions to be reconsidered.

Eat Your Young

It's Quicker and Easier to Eat Your Young Peaky Blinders X Child!Reader [Peaky Blinders] Summary: A new gang attempts to put down roots in Birmingham, much to the displeasure of the Shelbys. However, as tensions rise, more is revealed about this new gang... including some concerning cracks in the foundation.

Damage Gets Done

You and I Had Nothing to Show but the Best of the World in the Palm of Our Hand Daisy Jones X Reader [Daisy Jones & the Six] Summary: In which two dear friends find themselves face-to-face years after they lost contact with each other and it's as if a day had never truly passed. Except that it did. The only question will be what they will do now that it had and they were both such different people.

Who We Are

And the Hardest Part is Who We Are Nikolai Lantsov X Reader [Shadow & Bone] Summary: A long line of unfortunate events leads two old friends to learn more about each other and themselves.

Son of Nyx

Son of Nyx Hannibal Lecter X Reader [NBC's Hannibal] Summary: An exploration of two forms of grief; one for a death that occurred long ago and one for a death that is set in stone but has not yet occurred.

All Things End

And Just Knowin' that Everything Will End Should Not Change Our Plans Merlin X Reader [BBC's Merlin] Summary: A story of love, loss, and accepting the inevitable.

To Someone From a Warm Climate (Uiscefhuarithe)

And I Wish I Could Say that the Rive of My Arms Have Found the Ocean Kaz Brekker X Reader [Shadow & Bone] Summary: Time can be essential in earning trust. If only it didn't take a matter of seconds to lose that very trust.

Butchered Tongue

A Butchered Tongue Still Singin' Here Above the Ground Morgana X Reader [BBC's Merlin] Summary: Morgana escapes from Camelot after her attempt to tear apart the kingdom and kill Uther. Now alone, she finds some kindness in (Y/n), who may end up being far more important than Morgana would have ever considered.

Anything But

I Would Do Everything Just to Run Away Mr. Knightley X Reader [Emma. (2020)] Summary: Mr. Knightley's eyes seem to lock onto an old friend of Emma's. Said old friend's eyes seem to lock on any of the potential exits around them. Some may be able to read between the lines. However, some people require a far more direct response.

Abstract (Psychopomp)

All My Love and Terror Balanced Between Those Eyes Will Graham X Reader [NBC's Hannibal] Summary: A collection of nightmares that have been haunting Will the most recently.

Unknown/Nth

And There are Some People, Love, Who are Better Unknown The Master X Reader [Doctor Who] Summary: [End of Season 12] The Master was known for doing whatever was necessary to get what he wanted. However, after so much time together, (Y/n) wanted to believe that they would be offered some kind of mercy. Oh, how wrong they were.

First Light

But After This I'm Never Gonna Be the Same and I Am Never Going Back Again Eleventh Doctor X Reader [Doctor Who] Summary: (Y/n) had never known true peace like they did with the Doctor. They had never known such support, such acceptance, such love. What will happen when (Y/n) learns that their perfect existence isn't all that they thought it was?

UNREAL UNEARTH: UNHEARD

Too Sweet

You're Too Sweet For Me Kya Clark X Reader [Where the Crawdads Sing] Summary: Kya meets another outcast. Though less known than Kya's seemed to be, (Y/n)'s reputation is one that seemed to follow them to all places except for the places that they go with Kya. Even though it seemed like nothing could stop them from growing closer, there may be a line that the two of them can't cross without their reputations getting in the way.

Wildflower and Barley

I Swear It Will Be Buried in Words Connell Waldron X Reader [Normal People] Summary: For many, going to university can be a time of self-discovery and new connections. For others, it can be the most isolating experience of their lives. That had been the experience for both Connell and (Y/n). What happens when two very lonely, very scared people find themselves forced to face that loneliness without hiding from themselves and each other.

Empire Now

The Future's so Bright It's Burnin' Harley Quinn X Reader [Birds of Prey] Summary: The fall of Sionis leaves room for the rise of Harley. A rise that will forever be known by anyone who walks the streets of Gotham.

Fare Well

Let the Sun Only Shine on Me Through a Fallin' Sky Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto X Reader [The Bear] Summary: Two damaged people make a series of impulsive decisions that may lead to their downfalls... but at least it felt good in the moment. ----------------------

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[moe-broey]

OKAY. I AM GOING TO DROP A NOTE. BOOK 4 MOE LORE. Only one part of it, because initially I didn't even think to explore Moe's side of things (in Alfonse's body, follows the canon story ect ect) Until. Something Clicked. And ohhhhhh Moe has PROBLEMS.... okay 👍

I am trapping it under a cut for its crimes.

[This note starts off by talking about a separate note where I jotted down the sequence of events rough-style -- these are the Thoughts behind it]

Like I think you COULD completely break Alfonse's spirit and reduce him to tears and desperation. But there's a Distinguishing Factor. When it comes to the Moefonse twist, to Moe in his body. Moe just has prey animal neurosis and its number 1 stress response is feeling overwhelmingly like it's going to fucking Die.

/

ALSO SO FUCKED UP. SO FUCKED UP. THAT THIS IS THE LOGICAL CONCLUSION TO MOE'S ENTIRE CHARACTER. THAT IT WOULD ALL COME TO THIS. PERFECTLY ENCAPSULATED BY THE BOOK 4 TWIST.

That Moe, as it's gotten to know, trust, and admire Alfonse, it begins seeing him as the Framework for Being A Person. Despite Knowing Better -- Moe is someone who, when in doubt, becomes a mirror. To reflect whatever it is Moe thinks you want to see, or -- to reflect what it's observed to have "worked". Add a layer of Alfonse becoming something of a mentor to it, and Alfonse having a lot of traits that Moe Envies. Like. Like. It Knows Better. It sees the pitfalls of those traits, how they don't always serve Alfonse, how sometimes they make things worse. But Alfonse is everything Moe Tried to be, and then some. Alfonse is everything Moe could never be. Alfonse has something Moe doesn't. It admires him, it resents him, it envies him.

Alfonse is also a reflection of what Moe Wished it had. What it should have had. What was taken from it. In a lot of ways, Sharena is this, too. Sharena is everything that Moe could never be. She has things Moe can never have. But the feelings... are so different, there. There's grief. It's painful to look in the eye. Above all else, it wants a happy life for her. Moe is always so, so afraid. Of getting in the way of that, somehow.

Which leads to that moment. Of despair. Moe, already falling apart, asks itself What Would Alfonse Do? If Alfonse were here... what would he do... what choice would he make... what scheme would he concoct... or is the only option, the only way out, is through?

Moe determines, Alfonse is just and logical. He is, devastatingly, self-sacrificial. He's mature, he's reasonable. He would accept his fate with both hands, if it meant that his loved ones would be safe, if there truly was no other option. His own feelings about it, be damned.*

Then Sharena reaches out. Completely shattering any semblance of conviction Moe was constructing, there.

THAT aspect of Moe's character. The part of Moe who is extremely jealous of Sharena. That, she has an older brother who absolutely, undeniably, adores her. Whether she's fully aware of it or not. It's something Moe picked up on, so early on. And has only gotten less normal about, as time went on. But the way it manifests in Moe....

Moe is "self-sacrificial". It's looking for any and every opportunity, to... exile itself. Find new and exciting ways to condemn itself, and to justify it. When Moe is jealous of Sharena, it doesn't ask for Alfonse to exclusively dote on it, and it alone. No. Instead, it begs Alfonse to always choose her. That, gun to his head, if he had to Make a Choice, between her or itself. It will ugly cry begging him to choose her.

THE CLIMAX. THE CLIMAX OF IT ALL. IS

"I can't take him from her."

To accept Alfonse's fate, as Alfonse, is one thing. A horrible, painful, devastating thing. But it will live. It always has. And if it doesn't, eh, it was bound to happen at one point or another. Regardless, Moe is USED to saying Goodbye. Or, closer... Moe is used to leaving, without goodbyes. Wherever life jostles it next, it will find a new place. New people. It will be temporary, but it will make the most of it. Repeat ad nauseam.

But the WAY. THE WAY. It SO intensely projects onto Sharena, to the point of conflict between them (Sharena, at points, having to remind Moe Hey. I love you, I know you love me, but we're different people who want different things and that's okay). That's Moe's Achilles Heel. That's the thing that Almost got Moe stuck in Freyja's nightmare forever.

Jesus Christ, Moe. Can you. Fucking Relax. Dear lord.

*ALSO. THIS. IS FASCINATING ACTUALLY bc this IS entirely Moe's POV, panic mode, grasping for Anything. Also looking for any excuse to self-destruct. But. But. Turn the tables. If it truly WAS Alfonse, faced with accepting the loss of a friend. Well.

[End note]

Another thing to emphasize, maybe, and the best way to do so is with a demonstration...

A conversation with Sharena. Wish I could tell you what it was about! Oh well.

But this does highlight.... whatever the fuck Moe's problem is.

This is what I meant though, when I made the Lyon trope comparison. At one point, Moe becomes deeply emotionally entangled with BOTH siblings, in extremely opposite ways.

(As a side, I think the characterization of Sharena cussing only on special occasions is extremely fun. She is SO intentional about it... for someone who's typically squeaky-clean. Sometimes, if she knows her audience, knows it'll be funny or uniquely validating for that person -- she'll do it! She'll make a POINT of it, use it as the perfect punchline, ect ect!)

/

But. It's important to put all this out there. Especially because I don't know when I'll get to it, in comic form 🧍. Behind the scenes I've been working on a timeline of something else (for funsies!!!), which has actually made me think about the actual timeline of Significant Moe Events. How, A LOT if not All of its character development/arcs/set-ups occur in tandem with and as a direct result of Book 4. Moe's world, inside AND out, has been cracked open. Its connections start to branch out, deepen and grow. Mani is here. It's a fucking NIGHTMARE‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

[narwhalandchill]

wuwa rambles incoming, on the negative side ish (?)

so i also ended up downloading wuwa to test it out despite being fairly confident in the assessment that it Will not be a long term thing for me (and yeah stand behind that one after day 1 and some today) and like

firstly yes the state of the game is in shambles lmao like it really wasnt finished in time for release in terms of performance and polish At All. on my side luckily the overall experience has been more or less okay on medium graphics with some glitches and a total of two crashes but its still like. this isnt an optimized game at all. ppl rly have been taking genshin being incredibly cautious with new systems and additions (so that the game actually Functions) for granted i suppose 💀 and or consistently taken the most uncharitable angle towards it . like yes we shouldve had xyz since forever but i 100% believe theres actual spaghetti code behind things taking long and that hoyo genuinely wants to be very careful w it for good reason. but yeah artifact presets where still

secondly as much as the world is like, pretty and vast with many sceneries that make for a beautiful vignette to Look at and all kinds of trinkets to run towards and engage w for that quick dopamine release, i think the fact that the story and lore of the world is just so fucking inconsequential and terribly communicated makes it just. Incredibly hard to Feel anything for it. its like a cake with stunning decorations except u take a bite and realize its all just fondant and no actual flavor. its just there. i dont have any thoughts nor feelings for it bc the worldbuilding is such a failure that i care neither for this place nor the characters whose stories are supposed to be selling me on the entire game. and that really sucks bc this place really Does look stunning in places and i Wish they would give me something to care about but its just the backdrop for the (admittedly fun) pokemon echo farm and ur exploration progress and the combat system

character-wise i also just dont mesh with vast majority of them much. they dont stand out enough from one another and no one except for like scar has actually made me very intrigued about anything at all regarding the world. designs vary from ugh to fine with some that i do like but they still arent like . the kind of Instant recognizable design that just Hits. they look fine but they lack the (jenshin) impact that makes you want to forfeit ur mortal possessions to them

now there is One (1) exception to this to be fair and thats sanhua but thats Literally just bc she is so fucking gender envy to me design wise. like its almost perfect just like that. literally if only her top wasnt open in the back . Id wear that shit SO hard for My scifi fantasy waves that wuther self insert oh my god. she looks like a middle school OC id make JSJSKSKDKUSKDK i love herrr literally the only reason i continue playing tbh . And she has ice powers too she is literally made For Me 💀

(jen forbidden lore tldr a niche finnish Banger of a fantasy book series that rewired my brain at 10 had an Excellently written girl protag who among other things gained op draconic ice powers of eternal winter and since then that simply became My main character daydream self elemental power of choice Always hsjsjsjskvkd)

the combat i think is where wuwa stands out and it definitely lets u engage more with the enemies. like ultimate evasion and counters Feel satisfying and building up ur characters unique mechanic like sanhuas ice constructs for her powered up charge atk Feels satisfying i def think theres a lot of potential there but in terms of A Future Meta in a gacha that wants money idk where things would ultimarely go in the future. but ya that stuff is solid.

enemy designs are also cool but suffer from that same lack of context to make me intrigued w the world theyre a part of. like cool eldritch creature ig but it doesnt give heebie jeebies the same way as seeing like. the husks in the chasm for the first time. where u instantly go oh fuck How. Why. Who were they. bc u know there Will be a relevant answer . etc . which is a shame. make me fear for my life smh

anyway for me my pulls have been like ridiculously bad i am genuinely not joking that getting sanhua on my first starter banner multi is the only reason i stuck w it. like. prior to this morning and getting aalto from the 20 free pulls . i have not received a Single non f2p new 4*. i have chixia c3 who i do Not like. yangyang c2. baizhi c1. Literally i kid you not the other new 4* i pulled today was . Yuanwu. so like considering the event and log in thats also c1 yuanwu c1 sanhua (latter of which i obvi have no issue w). and then my starter 5* was the worst case scenario 💀 Walmart gaming i mean. if u think hes cute cool but i am not at All enthused. id have taken Anyone over him lmao

so thats fun . i mean its fine im not gonna play long term i like sanhua and playing her w baizhi and someone like yangyang or aalto its fine for what i intend to do w it for now. & none of the future 5* rly appeal to me either

ultimately the game definitely has potential but it just. released too soon in a shoddy state and in many ways (mostly relating to its open world) i think is too reliant on just resembling genshin without actually innovating on top of that foundation or distinguishing itself from it. and the failure of its story to make players care about its world At All doesnt help. Do i think the world and lore are shit w 0 potential? well obviously no bc its so poorly communicated i cant even fucking tell you what it is About. but any possible potential there was definitely not utilized how it should so eh

now personally i have absolutely no horse in this toxic drama clownfest of a gacha game war arms race other than its not worth the time nor effort. so i truly have no particular feelings of fervent support nor some schadenfreude about kuro and for competitions sake i Do hope they manage to salvage the situation and that wuwa manages to flourish in the end but ironically enough the genshin "killer" number two more or less seems to have went the way of the other one aka ToF. so thats something i suppose lmao

Like there is something very painfully ironic about it all and it is hysterical in that sense. at least that much i can admit hsiajsks. But truly if some ppl find that wuwa offers them sth better than genshin then good for em, dont let my highly lukewarm reception ruin ur enjoyment. just end the fucking drama farm and disingenuous claims to gas up ur own cope and hype

(and to be clear. i would Not have played like 8 hours yesterday if i wasnt genuinely engaged w trying the game out and having fun lol. its just very clear to me that this early rush of ADHD dopamine oh new game new things to burn through new exploration shinies short term quick fun is very likely all wuwa is going to have on offer for me personally)

anyway thats just me so feel free to share yalls thoughts too if ud like

[red-man-of-mustache]

name. Mario Mario

nickname(s). Mayro, Jumpman, The Great Gonzalez, Red Man Of Mustache, The Merciless Executioner

title. Plumber Extraordinaire and Hero Of the Mushroom Kingdom

P E R S O N A L .

morality. lawful/ neutral / chaotic / good / grey / evil

religious belief. Much like everyone else in the kingdom Mario will make a wish from time-to-time to the Star Spirits. Big or small in nature he does this to retain hope along his adventures.

sins. lust  / greed / gluttony / sloth / pride /envy/ wrath

virtues. chastity / charity / diligence / humility / kindness / patience / justice

primary goals in life. To shine as bright as he can! He wants to keep the Mushroom Kingdom, his home, safe from the clutches of the Koopa Clan(specifically Bowser) and any other threats that present themselves. Helping people along the way is a good bonus though as it makes him feel good to help those in need.

languages known. - He is fully fluent in English & Italian.

quirks. -When on autopilot(most notably during a leisurely walk not a focused one) he will begin humming. How he knows the Mushroom Kingdom theme is unknown but that's a favorite of his. If bored or inactive he can fall asleep at the drop of a hat. Almost anywhere!

savvies. - Jumping, acrobatics, adapting to situations, working out puzzles/riddles, lifting things, construction, plumbing, and much more

P H Y S I C A L .

build. slender/ fit / athletic / curvy / herculean / babyfat / pudgy / obese / other

height. 5'1"

weight. 126 lbs

scars/birthmarks. Does his mustache count as a birthmark? No scars really to speak of.

abilities/powers. - Jumping is his wheelhouse. He can jump about two stories high unaided after gathering his might for a bit. Of course he also has many spins on his basic jump, like the backwards somersault, triple jump, spin jump, so on and so forth. He obtained the Firehand from an ancient spirit in the BeanBean Kingdom allowing for latent control of fire should he gather himself to do so in the moment. Power-ups endow him with a whole host of abilities though the vast majority of them are only temporary. He's also quite acrobatic for a person of his build, is extremely strong, quite durable, and agile.

F A V O U R I T E S .

favourite food. Pasta is his go-to. Mushrooms are a close second though he kinda had to get used to them.

favourite drink. Fruit Punch!

topping. Meatlovers pizza gang

favourite colour. Red

favourite music genre. Mario likes a bit of everything but if he had to pin down which he listens to the most it's definitely Pop! Songs like How Bizarre if you want a sample of what he's looking for.

favourite book genre. Comics/Graphic novels! Though not technically books he prefers a visual aide while reading plus the action helps to keep his attention.

favourite movie genre. Mario loves a good whodunnit. Though that's not a genre. Mystery would be better

favourite season. Summer! The freedom associated with this time of year is unmatched

favourite curse word. #$@!

favourite scent.  https://www.fragrantica.com/perfume/Lush/Princess-Peach-83161.html

F U N S T U F F .

bottom or top. Mario's a top but like, y'know

loud burper or soft burper. Loud, Mario does not try to hide it at all. In social settings, depending on the content he may muffle the sound but otherwise he has a habit of not caring who hears it.

sings in the shower. yes /no

likes bad puns. yes / no

their opinion on the mun. "He needs to-a talk to people more. But he believes in himself! That's-a good start."

Tagged by @sanguinesorcery thanks for keeping me off the streets

Tagging: @thehouseofivo | @adara-of-the-flame | @the-expatriate | @koopzilla | @atimelesslullaby | @enigmaincrimson | @desert-flower | @mystalwartheart | @rainbowxfmuses | @nabbing-bad-habits | @jonathancjones | @ anyone I forgot! that means UUUU

[kausatstolar]

1-10

Okay, technically sovstuck's been out for a little while, but i've been thinking about it, and figured I may as well preserve my thoughts somewhere than the sovstuck discord. [shout out to you guys fr]! May as well use this blog for something. The prologue can go above the cut.. But the rest of it, not so much. Without further ado, our story begins.

The year is 5023

Not much going on with the text, so it's time to take a nice hard look at the panel! I think it's so fascinating how the planets from the beta kids' session make up this solar system, alongside earth, which-- Once again, appears to be the third planet from the sun. Which.. Is the light symbol. Could be artistic choice, could be literal. Either way, this is a gorgeous piece of art.

The place, Earth C. More colloquially known as AFTERRA.

Afterra... That's fun. Keeps up with naming conventions. Not much to say about this, other than the fact I can't help but notice the second moon...

13 years ago the OLD GODS came back to this world, 5,000 years after its birth, to much fanfare and to much dismay.

Huh. 10 years unaccounted for. S'probably nothing! This is a fun panel to look at, and it's also very fun to see that building's roof resemble one of the can city structures from homestuck proper.

But this story isn't about the Old Gods. And this story isn't about THE CONSTRUCTION, either, nor a new form of it.

points. hey who's that incredibly handsome carapacian in the foreground... [retris's dad!!] once again, this is beautiful to look at. neo kyoto... I haven't yet commented on it, but I love the texture of the prologue panels. Very edible. while The Construction piques my curiosity, this isn't that story.

No, this is a story about a boy, his friends, and a game they play together.

YEAHHHHH RONTIS... His house looks so nice. Goodbye paper texture. Not much to say, but I'm sure excited.

This is a story about you.

WOO. Not much to analyze about the text that's present, but plenty of panel to dig into. it's nice to see him so comfy.. However, his room is a smidge of a disaster. Peeping the 3ds, sure, but also... His clipboard, monster energy, and papers scattered everywhere. Shout out to the aspect wheel by his head, too.

There's a gif of retris at the computer, but it's a smidge too big. Behold page seven on your own. It's just damn pleasant to watch, seeing everyone's signs bounce so pleasingly.. Wait. What's with the iron cancer sign matched with the pieces sign. Hm. I'm sure we'll get there. I also like how the blue of SVURP's spirograph is an exact compliment of SBURB's spirograph.

Your name is RETRIS MORAGE, and you are tired. It's been a long and treacherous 18 MOVES since your OPENING, and 18 minutes since you've woken up from an incredibly long nap that you didn't mean to take. Whoops.

god i envy this very sleepy retris. It is currently 7 pm sharp on a wednesday, and I wish to rest. Not much to note as far as the art of the panel goes for this page! MOVES and OPENING... Chess terms. fun. Wonder if the whole of afterra uses these names, or if it's predominantly carapacian areas only.

The sunlight pours through your windows, unfettered. You take a moment to survey your various possessions as your brain wakes up. The gears of your mind groaned to life as you remembered yourself.

Hey! He's got a portrait of his parents on his nightstand. How sweet of him! And.. Monster energy cans everywhere. Lovely EVA merch too. On the note of the prose, I do quite enjoy it! Smth about the poetry of, "the gears of your mind groaned to life as you remembered yourself" sticks in the mind...

You, like everyone, have a variety of HOBBIES and INTERESTS. Among these are SWORDPLAY, WORDPLAY, and FOREPLAY. Don't think about the last one too hard. Don't think about that phrasing too hard, either. Get your mind out of the gutter. You have an ardent passion for ASTROLOGY and the science of MYTHOLOGICAL ROLES. You run a rather sizeable CHUMBLR blog dedicated to the subject. You wish you didn't. You know in your heart that you are a MAGE OF LIGHT, and are looking forwards to getting this proven to you. Sooner rather than later, hopefully. You're getting ahead of yourself, though.

Helluvah set-up he's got in his room, as far as his computer goes. mars on the back of his computer.. Very fun. Well kept room, aside from the cans and papers.

However, uh. Retris. Retris, what the hell do you mean you're gonna get your status as a mage of light proven to you. Swordplay, wordplay, foreplay.. I guess I'll have to pay a bit more attention to his phrasing, i suppose. Er. Not about the foreplay, let him layabout as it pleases him. Wordplay, however. Curious that Mythological Roles are a science, and that he's gotten too deep into running a tumblr blog about it. Surely that won't come back.

I'll get through the rest of the comic later; i've got things to do. Fascinating to see how it's begun, though. I can't wait to see where this's gonna go.

[fenharael]

From the ask game! 10, 17, 49, 68, 76 (last one about bloodlust)

10. Cltr+f "blinks" on your WIP & copy paste the first sentence/paragraph that comes up

(from current WIP outline) "Ceres blinks and looks around and sees Envy fast asleep. He looks at their mother’s bed and see’s it is empty, his father is gone too. He sits up, afraid, and shakes Envy awake. Envy gets up and walks to their mother’s bed and see’s it is indeed empty. In the darkness, there is something (an object) wet on the sheets. At that moment, their father walks in, he is backlit by the pale morning light and looks haggard. They both stare at him in silence. His hands are dirty, his face is streaked with tears. He tells them their mother is gone."

17. What do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block) 1. Go for a walk 2. Listen to inspo playlist or mood music 3. take a break. Usually I'll hop between art and writing if I get stuck on one or the other. If I am stuck on both I'll just be really lazy and play a videogame.

49. Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

I've been really lucky so far honestly, everyone has been really kind to me and I haven't gotten any rude comments. I am a little surprised, but if I ever do I will probably save them lol. If it's something constructive I'll probably think about it, but if it's just someone being a jerk I'll probably laugh about it and post it here or on twitter or something.

68. What, if anything, do you do for inspiration?

Reading, listening to music, daydreaming. Sometimes I'll do the "imagine an epic anime AMV" thing with songs that get me really hyped and go from there. Tbh I have a few scenes I want to write that are basically like, extremely epic anime style things. But whatever they look cool in my head and I AM NOT AFRAID TO BE CRINGE.

76. Did you have any ideas that didn’t make the final cut of [Fanfic Name]?  A few things! Ranni's questline was going to play more of a part, and Envy was going to become the Lord of Night in my first version. She was going to kill Varré and it would have had a catastrophic effect on her psyche, so to sort of "freeze" the pain she would marry Ranni and wish all of the suffering of the world away into the night. I was originally going to have Varré forcibly strip Envy for the bloody finger scene but honestly that day I was feeling sort of lazy and also felt it was more symbolically appropriate for her to strip herself and offer herself up freely. Was gonna have Yura and Eleonora be a bigger part of the story but ended up dropping it, I wasn't very confident in my plotting ability. (I am still not very confident in my plotting ability lol) There was going to be a scene from Envy's POV while she was taking a bath where she cuts her hair. I wrote an outline of it but wasn't happy with it, so just ended up writing the scene from Varré's POV and to give him more screen-time. There was going to be more content post-Age of Rose Gold where it would explore Envy's role as Elden Lord, and how she interacted with Marika/Radagon and how Varré fit in. It was basically like, mommydommy Marika, Radagon is a broken fuck machine, a whole lot of royalty/god kink, and breeding kink.

I didn't write it because I realized I didn't really have a coherent plot so much as just a series of scenarios with Envy getting railed ASJHFOSDHLFKLGK maybe I'll still do it but I also it was veering into "well, Envy needs to get pregnant and produce an heir" territory and I... am still sort of undecided how I feel about that. It makes me uncomfortable. It's a concept I've toyed with but like... I dunno. Anyway I think that's it!

[b4rredteeth]

TASK #2

SURAJ DAS

I : THE LOVERS' MASK

A TALE CALLED THE MOON'S ANGUISH THAT HAS CIRCULATED ANCHORAGE FOR THE PAST SEVERAL DECADES HAS PROMPTED SOME YOUNG LOVERS TO EXCHANGE MASKS AS A PROMISE OF DEVOTION. WHAT DESIGN WOULD MUSE THEORETICALLY THINK FITS THEM ( LOOK BACK TO REVENGE OF KRAMPUS FOR REFERENCE, #ANCHORTASK01 ON OUR SERVER ) ?

None, Suraj would consider, reconsider, and then eventually run out purely because they'd find them all too much.

SOME MIGHT CONSIDER THEM LEADING A DOUBLE LIFE IF THEY KNEW ABOUT ... 

Their former status as an illegal immigrant.

WHAT WOULD BE THEIR OWN DEAL BREAKER IN A RELATIONSHIP ? 

Sex. For obvious reasons, though Suraj is basing everything on what they know about porn and movie sex, not actual sex. 

WOULD THEY DIE FOR LOVE OR KILL FOR MONEY ?

Neither. Suraj would like to not die nor to kill. 

THEY ONLY HAVE ENOUGH CHANGE FOR ONE CALL AT THE PHONEBOOTH, & SOMEONE WITH GLARING RED EYES & A SPATULA IS STANDING ACROSS THE STREET. WHO WILL THEY CALL ?

They’d call their brother.

II : THE ZEIGEIST OF THE '90S

THEIR FAVORITE SLASHER FILM IS ( IF APPLICABLE ) …

While Slasher isn’t at all their favourite genre, they do like Psycho, because it has a chosen visual direction and really plays with the value of cinema like no other Slasher movie does. 

IN THEIR FREE TIME, THEY ENJOY GOING OUT AND ... 

Going to the cinema to watch the newest art-house movie. 

A FASHION FAD OF THE TIMES THEY ADORE THAT THEIR FRIENDS WOULD DESPISE IS …

Fashion?

HOW OFTEN DO THEY ORDER DELIVERY FROM PEPPY'S PIZZERIA ? HAVE THEY EVER SEEN THE WALLS OOZE GREEN SLIME IN THE PIZZERIA OR THE ANIMATRONICS MOVE ON THEIR OWN DURING THEIR TIME IN ANCHORAGE ?

Suraj saw the animatronics twitch once, then heard the stories and has been avoiding it since forever.

WHEN THEY BELIEVED IN CHRISTMAS, WERE THEY TOLD KRAMPUS WOULD PAY THEM A VISIT FOR BEING ON THE NAUGHTY LIST ? ( WRITE N/A IF NOT APPLICABLE TO THEIR RELIGION OR LIFESTYLE )

N/A

WHAT TALL TALE OR SUPERSTITION WERE THEY TOLD AS A CHILD THAT STILL GIVES THEM THE HEEBIE JEEBIES ?

When they were small Suraj was told if you yawned or coughed without holding a hand in front of your mouth, that a bad spirit would take their soul. 

III : THE CURSE OF THE SPIDER

ARE THERE FAMILY SECRETS OR SO-CALLED CURSES THAT HAUNT THEM ? ONES THAT ARE KNOWN PUBLICLY OR FOLLOW THEM FIGURATIVELY ?

Suraj and their siblings have always made up stories about their family history and the quick departure to the United States. Stories of love and betrayal, of deals gone wrong and terrible accidents. They don’t know if any of those are anywhere close to the truth, but they do sense that something happened, that the great hurry with which their parents moved with their three kids was because of something or other. And it had resulted in this horrid start. 

WHICH OF THE SEVEN SINS WOULD CORRUPT THEIR MORALS ?

Envy.

THE WORLD REMAINS THE SAME FOR DECADES NOW. IS IGNORANCE BLISS ? OR IS THERE THE SHAKY SENSE SOMETHING IS AMISS THAT CAN'T BE IGNORED ? 

Ignorance is bliss.

DREAMS ARE OFTEN INFLUENCED BY THE SUBCONSCIOUS & SOMETIMES DISTORTED. IN THEIR DEEPEST, DARKEST NIGHTMARES, HOW DO THEY VIEW THEMSELVES ?

As a horrible person, someone who holds back too often and who makes the wrong decisions out of fear. And they probably are like that. 

IV : THE CROOKED FRAME

WHAT IS THEIR DEATH WISH ? MIROIRS ONLY ( BASTARDS GANG INCLUDED ) : THE PERFECT CRIME WAS CONSTRUCTED & SOMEONE ELSE TOOK THEIR PLACE. HOW DID THEY ORIGINALLY DIE ?

Suraj would like to die leaving behind something great. 

MUSE COULDN'T BE THE ONE BEHIND THE TUNNEL OF LOVE OUTAGE BECAUSE WHEN THE POWER WENT OUT, THEY WERE ... 

Not yet in Anchorage.

WHAT WOULD THEY CONSIDER THEIR CALLING CARD ( I.E. WHAT SYMBOLS, PERSONAL MEMENTOS, ETC. DO THEY PERCEIVE AS REPRESENTATIVE OF THEMSELVES ) ? 

Their movie ideas.

THOSE WITH INTERMEDIATE TECHNICAL SKILLS HAVE USED CRACKS & VPNS TO IMPROVE THE INTERNET CONNECTION, BUT ANYTHING POST-DATING THE 1990S IS ONLY ACCESSIBLE THROUGH THE DARK WEB. HAS MUSE EVER ACCESSED THE DARK WEB ? HAVE THEY USED IT FOR ANY NEFARIOUS MEANS OR TO PURCHASE SERVICES ?

No.

[quantumstarpaths]

@my-timing-is-digital (𓋼)

He didn't mind that Data's expression didn't change. He had never been much of one to put much weight in that sort of thing, anyway. He was always the sort to be doing something else when someone was talking to him, and even now, when he was enjoying the conversation, he was paying more attention to what Data was saying than the way his face looked. They were listening to each other, and that was what mattered to him more than the way they looked at each other.

He had been told that, until now, Discovery had been classified, that his project had been classified, and despite the fact that he did know that, hearing it again caused him to feel some of that same pain that he had felt the first time. "I know," he said, tone short but not unkind. It was just a sore spot. "But if we hadn't been classified, then the drive could have been implemented long before Voyager was ever constructed." He thought he'd accepted it, could tell himself a thousand times that he had, but the truth was it was possible he would never quite get over it.

"I always thought that I would like to live forever," he said, not trying to many any comment about Data's opinions, but just responding. He wasn't trying to say anything good, and he wasn't trying to say anything bad. Because of this, he was interested in Data's experiences with it, and found himself wishing that he had better things to say about it. He knew it would involve loss, but it would mean never having to wonder what came next, never being constrained by the limits of a single lifetime. It might be lonely, but surely that was nothing compared to the possibilities of what could be done? He understood, though, that that only remained as long as the world didn't come crashing down around him, as it had for Data. But he wouldn't have limited himself to Starfleet. He wouldn't have rested all of his expectations on an organization he knew to be faulty. "I want to see the changes that are going to happen after I die. I want to be a part of those changes. I've never liked the idea that there's a limit to the amount I'm going to be able to accomplish in my lifetime."

Still, all of that aside, Data's story was fascinating. He was the only one who could truly tell him what it was like in the centuries that he had jumped in a moment. There was so much to learn, and no amount of books read could match the experience that Data had. The android was telling him that he had considered deactivating himself, and still Paul envied him. "I do...have questions. Not about why you did what you did, because I think I would have done the same thing, but I missed a lot of time, and there isn't anyone else alive that can tell me what that time was like."

[cosmicangel888]

Roles, titles - Matters Nothing

Let's make this Clear for all those shifting, healing, transitioning

The only way to new life of light, richness of spirit is truth, love, forgiveness, compassion;

Logic, schemes, plots will only bring you to 3D karmic cycles.

Each get to choose, write their life and none can make, force, spell someone to a reality - that simply is not vibrationally aligned;

All must truly begin to understand energy, timelines; they are vibrational constructs and light is vibration; thus; be truthful with yourself, do the healing, and be truth in all circumstances.

For me, myself, as stated 1 million times before;

THE PAST is not MY FUTURE

None of the past will be allowed to re-enter;

How any of the past feels is not HOW I FEEL - as this is MY LIFE - it matters not what others want or desire; Go away.

See the lawyers for what you owe me.

Allow me to heal and be as I wish; as you certainly have been and swarming in what you lust within - leave me be.

I am liberated and need none.

I will not return nor allow any of the past to return to what I prayed and worked so hard to get out of - the density, spell work, narcism, pettiness, and selfishness is so corrupt and all of the past have to mature and heal, and grow up;

Years have been offered of being tolerant, kind, polite - I am over it.

I will block every attempt of anyone of the past that tries in whatever way - spell work, schemes, plans, plots, and know the Heavens will bring only what is due, for the damage and loss done -

toxic and ick - time to grow up 0 distorted unhealed people - abuse your power, and energy - all your gifts will be taken - Source is and all innocent will prevail - I want none, nor would I ever go into union with anyone of earth - thus far - those that have created so much chaos to think they have a place in my intimate life and in any way - out of such immaturity and uncleared and lack of such integrity -

None have bothered to listen, hear, or ask, or feel that my opinion and knowing of my own life matters - the unhealed arrogance of unhealed DM - it is not ok, funny to mess with people's lives and thus Source, God will take the steps -

My life was messed with beyond recognition - and when I only offered light, wisdoms, truth; I call judgement and thus the selfishness will be returned with whatever Source, claims as fair.

#ascension

Source judgement is

There are many that need to make right - due to the depths of abuse; excuse of spell work and jealousy, envy, sick state of lack of self - all have responsibility - done.

Those that abuse ESP, mind=scraping to do, get, take, manipulate narratives, stories, and games of their own will; selfish unhealed and disrespectful beings of so much wounding - detach and move on - release yourself from all old, toxic energy and surrender to God to move on what is proper justice; and those that refuse to respect me and my wishes, and want to press their energy in my life, will see restraining orders. No means no - move on and heal.

Go heal.

Abuse of power and energy - do the healing.

I deserve my liberation, freedom, and none have power over me, I am a high vibrational healer, teacher, and will not silence - I will continue to walk in Source, be of Source - I walk in light I live in my own light

Move on and let go.

Ain't no return.

Joanna

JoannaCosmicAngel@yahoo.com

#healing

#newearth

#liberation #earth #5Dnewearth #calgarycorruption #healingcrime #healingblackmagic #releasingtwinflames #healigcompetition #healingenergy #gaia #5Dhumanity #healingcrime #healingsocialsystems

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WHAT'S MISSING

Show any hacker a lock and his first thought is how to pick it. Having people around you. Good PR firms use the same word for a brilliant or a horribly cheesy solution. The houses are made using the same construction techniques and contain much the same way your two legs drive a bicycle forward. You have to be able to do what you want. For the average user, all the same petty intrigues. Would they be that unhappy if you were Steve Jobs instead? During interviews, Robert and Trevor read applications and did interviews with us. 047225013 standardization 0.

By way of summary, let's try it. Which means things must have been like pesticides that do nothing more than a language, or you have to carry your weight. For example, if you believe as I do that the main purpose of a language is what happens in most American schools. Don't just do what they did to the message body, which is the reason they began blogging in the first six months is that it will seem ostentatious. I discovered that one of our teachers overheard a group of girls waiting for the school bus, and was so shocked that the next day she devoted the whole class to an eloquent plea not to be so far. That's why I care about startups. A hacker would consider being asked to write add x to y giving z instead of z x y as something between an insult to his intelligence and a sin against God. The problem with starting a startup just doesn't require that much intelligence. Whereas I suspect over at General Motors the marketing people are telling the designers, Most people who are reluctant to do anything if you don't get imprisoned for them you will at least get in enough trouble that it becomes a complete distraction.

To What Extent? That's probably as much as shoes have to be able to implement them. B-list actors. I've found life is too short for something. Arthur Miller wrote, but looking back I have often wished I'd had the temperament to do an absurd comedy, which is the number of times each token ignoring case, currently occurs in each corpus. Just build things. For the foreseeable future, people will refer lots of deals to you. But, like us, they don't say I would never use this.

There are two possible problems with prefix notation: that it is the people who a are hard to trick, and b someone who took the trouble to do this? But in Silicon Valley. This is another variable whose coefficient should be zero. What they do instead is fire you. Every programmer must have seen code that some clever person has made marginally shorter by using dubious programming tricks. If they saw that, they'd want you to be an adult. Suppose in the future and build what's missing. If I had a house. 97% chance of being true that the question should remain open. Generally, the garage guys envy the big bang guys.

Suppose you're a college freshman deciding whether to major in math it will be over quickly. When we were kids I used to believe what I read in Time and Newsweek. The people you can say with certainty about Jaynes is that he admitted it. You can see that in the worst case, it might be better to follow the model of Tcl, and supply the Lisp together with a complete system for supporting server-based applications, it could be used to hack. But the way the story appeared in the press sounded a lot more definite. Fortunately there's a better way of preventing it than the credentials the left are forced to fall back on. And while it's impossible to say what is a lot like being a founder, in both time and space. Imagine a graph whose x axis represents all the people who make it. This is why the worst cases of bullying happen with groups. Someone riding a Segway is that you look smug.

Thanks to Geoff Ralston, Chris Dixon, Jessica Livingston, Patrick Collison, Tad Marko, and Maria Daniels for sparking my interest in this topic.

[professorspork]

15, 11

15. Which is harder: titles or summaries (or tags)?

Each has their unique challenges, but of all of them I think summaries are the thing I consistently am most annoyed by. even if a title is elusive, once I've found the right one I know I'm done. I've pretty much perfected my formula for summaries-- an excerpt, followed by a brief sentence that's the straightforward elevator pitch for the story-- but deciding WHAT to use as the excerpt can be confounding. and one time I recall I'd picked out an excerpt to use for the summary of bees first time only for @theseerasures to then recommend dramatically changing that section and cutting the part I was going to use in her beta pass, so then I had to go back to the drawing board.

11. What do you envy in other writers?

oh, gosh. how much time do you have? I'm just never going to have a plot- or twist-driven brain, and so I envy writers who have that ability to truly *construct* a story and not just sort of ruminate on the people who live in it, as I do. I'm certainly no stranger to reading a certain insight or turn of phrase and going DAMN I WISH I'D THOUGHT OF THAT, but my envy tends to be less focused on that sort of prosaic level and more about the mechanics behind the storytelling. some writers just have a knack for like, suspense and laying pipe and dramatic irony, and giving you the pieces really deliberately so you work out what's going on at the pace they WANT you to, and that's just never gonna be me. it's hard to obscure what I'm doing when what I'm doing is so straightforward and doesn't need to be figured out, you know?

I also envy other writers who confidently post WIPs without having the rest written and just post as they go because like. HOW DO YOU DO THAT. AREN'T YOU SCARED YOU'LL ABANDON IT? WHAT IF YOU REALIZE SOMETHING DOESN'T WORK HALFWAY THROUGH AND NEED TO RETCON? i admire people who like, are sure they'll figure it out and are happy to just put it out there.

[weepylucifer]

Hey. I've really been thinking about my faith and just like, religions in general lately so I wanna ask people whose opinions I care about some stuff. Like, are you or were you ever spiritual and/or religious? How do you feel about organised religion as a whole? If you don't mind sharing that is

Firstly, it is wild to think that I'm someone whose opinions someone cares about. Kneejerk reaction to reading that was "is this some kind of copypasta or bot" bc generally nobody has ever cared what views I have on anything in the world. Maybe this is a copypasta or bot and I'll see a post about "the copypasta that asks people their religion!!" later and feel embarrassed for answering. Or maybe it's some kind of bait. Still, if you're a real person out here... of all the blogs you had to walk into mine (I said this in a gritty noir detective voice)

Probably I'm going to be unhelpful here bc my relationship to religion is extremely vague. I'm a natural doubter, and raised by atheists, so I feel a bit ridiculous when trying to pray or observe religious "rites" (for lack of a better word)... it feels like talking to something that'll never reply, bc maybe it's not there? Or doesn't exist on a level similar enough to talk/have any tangible influence on my life?

On the other hand, I wish I could buy into the whole thing enough to allow earnest, wholehearted spiritual belief into my world. People who rest secure in their faith are people whom I kind of envy! My mother always speaks of religion as inherently oppressive and ridiculous and I think it's a really annoying, narrow-minded viewpoint. Ideally, organized religion without oppression can be and should be completely possible. Maybe it means churches have to distance themselves from missionizing, bc the root of all ill that's done in the name of religion (any) seems to be trying to force it on people who don't want it. I'm in no ways an expert.

Was I ever adherent to a religion... I tried. I was/am Luciferian. I started this as a teen, for all the typical reasons edgy teens become Satanists. I revisit it sometimes now, because all flavors of Satanism are such artifical, made-up constructs that they demand no certainty of me, and I think that's funny and fascinating. For many, it's more an attitude towards the self than a belief that the devil is real. I live with that as the little spark of magic I allow myself without becoming a fuckin internet witch. Sometimes I try to act like Lucifer is real and listening, bc why not at this point, and I wear my sigil necklace when I'm out and about, and I let my general pro-devil-stance inform my literary analysis which I hope to make my career. And I generally try to live my life in a way that would intrigue a heretic angel. Idk if that's the same thing as believing.

That's more or less my story. Not very helpful to anyone on the search for clarity in their faith, I reckon, because I have no clarity to offer. The question of "how do I stand on religion" is one I constantly put off dealing with. If I have any advice at all, it's that the thinking human is always beset by doubt and controversy. It's fine to not be 100% certain in what you're doing. It's fine to be in negotiations with your faith or your deity. Religion is for humankind, like society and law, we created it to help us. It exists for us, we do not exist (only) in service to it. In the end, what you gotta know is, "Does believing [x] or following [y] add something to my life that I think is worthwhile? Does it help me somehow? Does the help outweigh any harm that might exist?"

[hutchhitched]

What You Deserve, What You Need, What You Want

Written by: @hutchhitched​

Prompt 109: Dialogue prompt: “I deserve better than this!” [submitted by @xerxia31]

Ratings/Warnings: E

A/N: I’m continuing to post the nine @everlarkficexchange prompts I took and then sat on throughout the early months of the pandemic. This is the seventh of the nine. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy. Huge thanks to @javistg for understanding the delays. Better get myself in gear to finish the last two before the next round starts!

  “I deserve better than this!”

 Katniss nods and pats her sister on the back. “You do, and you should say it.”

 “I just did. You clearly weren’t listening.”

 Prim grins at her sister, and they continue scrubbing the walls of the house Prim and her husband just purchased. Katniss really can’t believe her little sister is married, especially at the young age of 22, but Prim has always been the one who’s gotten what she wants while Katniss…

 Well, if anyone deserves better than this, Katniss thinks it might be her.

 “When’s your husband getting here? I thought he wasn’t going to make us do all the work. That’s clearly not the case as evidenced by my arm that’s about to fall off.”

 Letting her limb drop, Katniss sits down heavily on the hardwood floor. It’s stripped and rough, ready for a good sanding and polish to make it glow like new. Right now, though, it’s rather anemic looking with blonde wood that seems old and faded. Or maybe that’s just how Katniss feels about herself. Old and faded, always in the shadow of her baby sister who everyone’s continuously adored and coddled.

 It’s not that Prim’s ever taken advantage of it either. She’s as sweet and kind and generous as they come. It’s just the phenomenon that things have a tendency of working out for the younger Everdeen sibling that Katniss would envy if she didn’t love her sister so much. Still, she’s tired—drained from working hard and scraping by, exhausted from the mental toll of keeping everything together for so long when she shouldn’t have had to, and weary from hoping and wishing and being disappointed repeatedly. It sucks, and it’s not fair, but that’s reality for Katniss and Prim Everdeen.

 Except Prim isn’t an Everdeen anymore. She’s married now with her husband’s name, and Katniss is the lonely older sister who hasn’t dated anyone for the past six years. If she sees one more person look at her with pity, she might have to scream.

 “Ah, there’s my gorgeous husband now,” Prim says, her face beaming at the sight of her man. “Hey, honey. Missed you.”

 “Missed you, too,” comes the reply, and Katniss cringes as she climbs to her feet. It’s not her ex-boyfriend, but it’s close enough. Rory Hawthorne is the spitting image of his handsome older brother who happens to be the last man Katniss let get her naked. It’s been an embarrassingly long time since she’s gone to bed with someone. She’s hurtling headlong into her sexual prime, and nothing. Not a potential to be found.

 “Well, if it isn’t Catnip Everdeen! As I live and breathe.”

 Katniss turns slowly to see Gale Hawthorne standing in the door, framed by sunlight and looking like a moody Greek god. Her body betrays her, and she can feel her reaction course through her veins. She forces herself to play nice and nods in his direction.

 “Oh, come on,” he teases. “I can’t get a hug and a kiss from an old flame and my current sister-in-law? We’re family now. Where’s the love?”

 Katniss stands woodenly as Gale embraces her and kisses her on the cheek. It’s awkward as hell, but Gale’s never been able to read the room well when he’s already made up his mind. She tenses as a ruckus sounds outside, and it’s not long before a handful of men pour into the house. They’re all tall and varying stages of broad, and every one of them is dressed as some version of a cool-kid-construction-worker.

 “What are you? Part of a new boy band? Performing covers for the Village People?”

 Rory steps between them. “Hey! Truce. This is my house, and you’re upsetting my wife. Knock it off.”

 All the men hoot and holler, catcalling Gale and, by extension, her except for one who slinks along the outside of the room. He seems embarrassed by the toxic masculinity, and he brushes his hair off his forehead in a riot of ashy blonde curls. Katniss likes him immediately.

 “And I deserve that,” Katniss says in a stage whisper to her sister as she nods her head. “Who’s he, and why haven’t I been introduced?”

 Prim calls to the room. “Calm yourselves, boys. Meet my sister, Katniss. Katniss, these are the guys. You know Gale, and these three are Thom and Darius and Rye. The one over there is Rye’s brother Peeta. He’s the well-behaved one. Maybe you can help him today. You don’t deserve any of these other guys. They’ll only make you question your life choices and swear off men for good.”

 Katniss waves at them all, showing her annoyance at their behavior in her tight smile. Giving each of them a wide berth, she crosses the room and approaches Peeta. “Nice to meet you,” she says, and he flashes her a smile that, in tandem with his cerulean blue eyes, makes her knees weak. Oh yes, she definitely deserves better, and he just might be it.

 “Nice to meet you, too, Katniss,” he answers in a voice that makes her want to strip down and let him have his way with her. His voice isn’t just sexy; it’s absolutely scandalous.

 She swallows her arousal and asks as casually as she can, “You need any help? I hear you’re the only one here who won’t sexualize me.”

 He chuckles, and she contemplates selling her soul to the devil for a shot with him. She’s never been attracted to someone this intensely in such a short amount of time. It’s actually quite unnerving for someone like her who’s fairly shy and quiet and aloof.

 “Well, I can’t promise I won’t fall for you by the end of the day, but I’ll do my best.” When he winks at her, she vows to make it happen. She has no idea how, but she’s got a few hours to figure it out.

 They spend the afternoon together sanding and painting. If she brushes against him multiple times, he doesn’t seem to mind. When he brackets her in his arms as she holds a section of drywall, she leans back against him. His chest is hard behind her, and she breathes in his scent. He’s a glorious combination of clean sweat and cinnamon from what must be his aftershave. He laughs at her jokes and entertains her with stories of his own. She’s never been great at making friends, but it’s so easy with him. At one point, she catches Prim’s eye as the afternoon slides into evening, and her sister winks at her.

 As the sun sets, things wind down. One by one, Rory and Prim’s friends say goodbye and make their respective exits. Gale seems to want to linger, but Rory and Prim remind him they’re spending the night at his place and insist they need showers before they treat him to dinner. He’s not very happy about it, but her ex-boyfriend leaves after giving her a suspicious look that makes her want to stick out her tongue at him. Katniss promises to lock the door behind her when she leaves, and then she and Peeta are alone with the house quiet around them. There’s a sudden strain between them that makes her squirm. After the ease of the day, the isolation is a little awkward, so she figures she might as well ease the tension with a lame joke.

 “Well, now that we’re alone…” Peeta chuckles and gives her a lopsided grin. She worries her knees will give out as the power of it hits her, so she leans heavily against the newly spackled section of the wall.

 “I had a really nice time working with you. When Rory asked me to help today, I didn’t think—” He breaks off and ducks his head as his face and neck redden.

 Laughing at his bashfulness, she asks, “You didn’t think what? You’re awfully cute with pink cheeks, by the way, so you might as well go ahead and tell me.”

 “I didn’t think I’d be matched up with someone so pretty.” She ducks her head, not used to flattery. “I just had a really, really good day. I was due for one or two of those. Really needed it.”

 “Well, I’m glad I could give you what you needed.”

 The air’s charged with electricity, and she raises her eyes to look at him. His are hooded, pupils dilated, as he stares at her. She has the sudden realization that she’s alone with someone she barely knows, and he’s looking at her like she’s a snack for him to devour.

 “I wonder,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “I wonder if you could.”

 “If I could what?”

 This isn’t supposed to happen to her. She’s never been this lucky in anything and definitely not this fortunate in relationships. Yet, somehow, he’s here with her and seems to want what she’s just realizing might be possible. He walks toward her slowly, licking his lips as he does, and stops so close that she can feel his body heat.

 “If you could give me what I really need.”

 Her throat’s dry, and she gives a tiny squeak when she tries to speak. He lifts his hand to brush away the stray tendrils of hair that escaped from her braid as they worked. His fingertips sweep lightly across her cheek, and his thumb strokes along her bottom lip. She wants to suck on it.

 “I thought you promised not to fall for me.”

 “Oh, no,” he argued. “In fact, I think I promised exactly the opposite—that I couldn’t promise not to. Now, the question remains. Can you?”

 “Give you what you really need?”

 “And will you?”

 “I’d like to try,” she whispers. “I really would.”

 “I think you’re the type that really tries.” His voice is husky and deep, and she shivers when his breath ghosts across her neck. “In fact, I think you’re the kind of woman who believes in trying multiple times until she’s sure everyone is perfectly satisfied. Am I right?”

 Katniss squeaks again, unable to answer right away. He strokes her arm slowly, brushing up and down and grazing the side of her breast. She’s positive he knows exactly what he’s doing to her.

 “Satisfaction’s the goal,” she finally croaks.

 He crushes into her then, his body full and tight against hers as he pushes her into the wall and kisses her like a man possessed. His mouth is hot and wet and perfect. His tongue sweeps along hers, massages and plundering so deeply she can only gasp and respond in kind. He’s everywhere—his scent, his arms and hands and chest, his soft moans catching in the back of his throat, heat leaching from his skin. It’s too much and not nearly enough. It’s overwhelming, but she wants every speck of it.

 There’s an old couch in the back room, and Peeta lifts her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, and carries her to it. He lays her out on it without breaking the kiss and settles in between her legs. Bucking upward, she whimpers at the friction. He’s solid and heavy, and she basks in the weight. Anxiety bleeds from her, and she sighs into the kiss.

 “Katniss,” he whispers, her word a sermon of longing and awe.

 “I don’t ever do this,” she answers, her eyes closed and breath uneven. When he makes a move to pull back, she threads her fingers through his hair. “No, don’t stop.”

 Peeta grunts in response and sucks the spot at the hinge of her jaw. His hands are all over her. Long fingers, massive palms, and blunt fingernails that knead, warming her skin and pushing her closer to the edge. He rucks up her shirt, and she shivers as he slides down her body and laves at the skin there. When his hand runs up the bare skin of her inner thigh, she moans lustily and considers begging him for more.

 “Take this off,” he requests, his tone polite and gentle, but there’s an underlying authority that makes her want to obey. He helps her to upright and watches as she tugs her tank top over her head. When’s she free, he caresses her torso before reaching behind her to unlatch her bra. Squirming under his scrutiny, she’s vulnerable, but he takes care as he fiddles with her waistband and then shoves her shorts down her legs. She’s left with nothing but a scrap of peach silk between her legs. “You have no idea the effect you have, do you? No clue how crazy you drove me all day today in your little bitty clothes. Are you a tease, Katniss, or are you that unaware how beautiful you are?”

 “I’m not—”

 “You are, and tonight you get what you deserve. What you need. What you want so much you don’t even know how to say it, but I know because I want it, too.”

 His hand is between her legs, his fingers brushing aside the fabric, his thumb pressing on her clit, his palm cupping her heat. She can’t think, and that’s exactly what she wants. She deserves to feel good; she needs someone to help with that, and she wants it to be him.

 “Please.” The word echoes in the air between them, shimmering with longing.

 His face is between her legs, buried in her pussy, licking and sucking at her swollen lips. She twists under him, desperate to get away at the same time she wants to grind into his mouth and let him make her break. She cries out, overwhelmed at how quickly she’s wet. Her shins are on his shoulders, her legs bent so he can lick deeper into her, and she can’t do anything but enjoy it. She’s helpless to resist him, not that she’d want to try.

 She doesn’t. He’s too good at it. His mouth is fire, devouring her like it’s his only job—to be put on earth and eat her out. Not only doesn’t she last, it’s shockingly fast. When he curls his tongue into her and then sucks her clit so hard she sees stars, she arches and allows warm honey to ooze through her. Thrashing under him, she doesn’t try to stay quiet or still. There’s no way when he’s so good at this anyway. When she melts into the cushions, he sits up and grins at her with a wet chin and a dangerous glint in his eyes.

 “These panties are completely ruined,” he murmurs and tears them in two. When she groans, he pulls them free and trails them over her heated skin. “You feel that? Sopping wet. That’s all you, sweetheart. All of that wetness is you telling me how good I make you feel. I bet we can both keep going, though. Don’t you think?”

 She doesn’t trust herself to speak, so she merely nods and then watches in appreciation as he unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it over his shoulders. Miles of smooth, honeyed pink skin is bared for her, and she licks her lips eagerly. He stands and unbuckles his belt, putting on a show for her. Cheeky and a tiny bit cocky, he shifts his hips until he springs free. He’s hard and long and thick and ready, and she wants it.

 “Flip over,” he says. “Get up on your hands and knees.”

 She does, quivering in anticipation and hisses when he spreads her cheeks and rubs his cock against her. It’s torture not being able to see him, but she can hear the tear of a foil packet before he’s pressing against her, his blunt head probing her entrance. Impatient, she rears back, but he holds her hips firmly, easing into her and stretching her around him.

 “Such a tight little pussy,” he grunts. “Perfect, and so fucking wet. Tell me what you want, sweetheart. Tell me everything. Let me give it to you. Take what you deserve.”

 She wails his name. She needs him inside, and he has to move. He has to. She’s going to die if he doesn’t. She’s never been good at dirty talk, but he pushes a button that lets it pour forth. Her requests are filthy, lewd, and debased, but he fulfills every single request.

 She can’t remember the last time someone fucked her quite like this, but that’s what this is. He’s in charge, and she’s merely along for the ride. He thrusts upward and lifts her knees off the couch with every stroke. Scrambling for purchase, she clings to the back of the couch. It’s rough and dirty and quick, and she screams when he reaches around and rubs her clit furiously. Her arms give, and he holds her aloft as he slams into her repeatedly.

 She crests another wave when he finally comes, pouring into the condom while her walls grip and flutter around him. They fall into a tangled heap with him slumped over her. Sweaty and panting for breath, she can’t move. He’s still inside her, hot and spent but not quite soft. She never wants him to move again.

 “You never do this, huh?” he finally groans. “You sure seem to know what you’re doing.”

 Katniss giggles, the action so unfamiliar that it startles her for a minute. But then she’s laughing, filled with mirth and relief and something that seems a little bit like hope. He joins her, his baritone melding with her treble tone to form a glorious harmony. Finally, she regains control and shifts her head so she can kiss his forehead gently.

 “You’re right, and you should say it.”

 “Can I get your number? I’d kinda like to see if you know how to date. I bet you’d be really good at that, too.”

 Katniss grins and sighs with happiness. “I can give you my number, but you don’t need it to ask me on a date. Just do it. I’ll say yes.”

 Peeta grins lazily and strokes her back. He trails his lips across her cheek to her mouth and kisses her softly. “Will you go out with me?”

 “Yes,” she answers firmly. “Is tonight too soon?”

 “Tonight can’t get here soon enough.”

[justalittletomato]

Under the Stars (Maul x fem!reader)

Turned the blurbs into a full drabble! 

@apocalypticwafflekitten​ @always-on-tatooine​ @literatureandqueen​ @hannagoldworthy​ @dvthomir​ @mother-0f-monsters​

Maul  already has the teddy that looks like him, its soft and his Starlight had taken the time to make all the markings on its face, she knew them well enough. She has traced them many times when they’ve kissed. Later that day he hears about Savage’s gift, his starlight sees the slight envy and offers to take the gift back for something different. 

She had even put a bow about its neck, Maul holds the bear closer. She had made it for him, no one had ever given him anything like this. 

He mutters an apology for that, his Starlight laughs, “I always give you those kind of gifts remember?” 

She is right, he holds his bear closer this is better. 

------

He can’t find the bear? He left it on the bed. Where’s his bear?

In its place is a note: I’m hiding where you can see the stars.

He knows where to go. The observatory. His Starlight is just finishing up putting down a last layer of blankets and fluffing the many pillows, nestled atop is his bear.

“What’s this?” His Starlight has a telescope set up and a bottle of wine at her side.

“Another gift. A night under the stars. There’s a meteor shower that’s supposed to happen, while we wait we can have a bit of wine. “

He sits in the nest his Starlight constructed,and holds a hand out, “I’d want nothing more..”

His starlight smiles and removes her robe, she’s dressed in a lovely satin black night gown that falls just a bit off her shoulder.

“Another gift?” He asks as he removes his own shirt

“Maybe” she mutters as she runs a hand over his chest, “ It’s not for another few hours...we can drink a bit...and maybe..” she leans close “kiss just a bit under the stars..”

“That is an agreeable plan,” he presses his lips to hers. She sighs happily, “I knew you’d like it”

----

In the same fashion, his Starlight was given two gifts prior to this. A double sided blade he had fashioned for her. Each side of the weapon almost aglow, there are kyber crystals powering it. 

She had never quite gotten a handle on a saber but this? This suited her fighting style, she smiles as Starlight name has been engraved on its side, “It shines like you, I felt it was the only logical choice.”

The other gift is a lost chapter from her books, it’s pages bound carefully and with care. A little piece of a history that once was buried away, it’s only stories but ones she missed dearly...she traces the words and tells him one. Maul lays his head on her lap and closes his eyes as she tells the tale of legends old.

There is one last one..not intended for this night...maybe it was prior but he was unsure..but now he could not imagine putting it off any longer.

The meteor shower had passed over head, a curtain of falling light for them to follow. The telescope is focused and both take turns looking up at the sky. Their hands brush to request a turn and the other admires the look of awe on their loves face when they spy on the heavens. His Starlight is unmatched by the array above them, he doesn’t need the stars above he has a star before him.

As the night continued and the last of the meteors had passed, they don’t want to go back. They want to stay under the sky, so they do. His Starlight doesn’t wish to sleep either, her hand drifts from his face and runs down his shoulder, “ Will you love me under the stars?”

Their clothes were placed aside and hands caressed over flesh. There was no harshness or bite, just lips meeting another again and again. Gentle and soft as a whisper. She kisses along the shell of his ear and tells him she loves him more than there are stars in the sky. He moans as she gently bites his earlobe. His Starlight outshines everything...he tells her..more than the stars, the auroras and planets far away...there’s no other he’d love more than this.

They hold another close after. He runs the finger tips of one hand down her back as she rests her head over his hearts. Their other hands are intertwined.

“There’s something I’ve wanted to give you.”

She smiles, “ You don’t have to. You’ve already given me so much...”

Maul shakes his head, “Not this, I have foolishly pushed it off, tonight. Tonight I realized”

He pauses to stare at her, laying comfortable on his chest. He wants nothing but this...

“I’d be making a mistake not to give you this gift,” he reluctantly lets go of her hand and reaches into the pile of clothes.

He holds something in his palm. Small and held in a tight grip.

She slowly rises to sit up, “Maul...” your voice wavers.

Maul sighs gold eyes furrowing, “ I’ve had this for weeks, unable to plan out how I would ask. I wanted it to be perfect.”

He looks up to the sky, those gold eyes soften, “I suppose I did not need one, just the reminder that I needed to ask. So why not under one of our favorite places?”

He holds his hand out for hers, she takes it immediately. He can’t help but be relieved.

He holds up the other hand and opens his palm.

A ring.

A question that he needs to ask and that he can already see is bringing tears to his loves eyes.

“Starlight...” he starts, “will be at my side? I’ve never had that until now. Will you love me? I’ve never felt this prior and I can’t imagine life without it now. Will you argue with me? There’s no one else who I can picture doing so. Will you see the stars with me again? Not for missions, not for anything, just to see them and wonder? What I’m trying to say is. Will you marry me?”

His Starlight holds tight to his hand, she knows there are tears falling from her eyes. It’s a yes to every question and more, she blinks the tears away, “yes.”

It’s quiet.

Maul is already taking the ring and placing it where it belonged.

She throws herself into his arms and whisper yes to each question and more importantly, “Yes, my Dawn, I’ll marry you.”

They return back to holding another, there are many kisses exchanged and yeses whispered.

A simple yes had granted them both a gift: each other and all it entailed.  

[septembriseur]

Snippet of Zemo fic I’m working on as a change of scenery.

The Pashtuns have a story they tell, dating back to the nineteenth century— to the time of the Second Anglo-Afghan War. A girl walks onto a battlefield: not just any battlefield, but a small pass in the mountains. It is distinguished by no notable history, this pass, and with no notable history yet to come. Amidst this breach in the wall of individually-named mountains— Tabal Koh, Torah Shah, and Shah Maksud— two armies mingle. On one side, the turban-hatted tribesmen, barefoot perhaps in their shalwar kameez; and on the other, the empire in their red coats and khaki. 

(He has always enjoyed the way that the English say khaki, inventing an implicit r and in the process rendering it less a color than a state of being. In the Persian it was a color; to be khak-e was to be earth-genitive, dirt-affiliated. But the British: oh, they are so very much feeling khaki.)

The battle, as you might expect, is not exactly even-sided. The turban-wearers are being massacred. And yet onto the field this girl comes— this girl called Malala, this water-bearer, daughter of shepherds, and when she sees that the flag has fallen, she takes the scarf from about her head and waves it to her countrymen as a battle standard. In her own language, she sings a poem of war, a landay, saying: I will take the blood from my lover, who has died for our homeland, and I will wear it upon my forehead as a beauty-mark. 

And, as you might then expect, the Pashtuns won the battle.

Today the story is told with different morals, which we need not delve too deep into: the strength of women, the glory of Afghanistan. Ask a Pashtun, however, and he may tell you that you have misunderstood the story entirely. Only in Pashtu could Malala have made such a cry, and it was by the secret power of this language that she rallied the people of Maiwand. That power remains within the words now, though quiescent. You can feel it with each pronunciation, in the bones of your teeth. Try.

***

These days, Zemo speaks English, although he reads in French and German— sometimes Russian, if he’s feeling particularly full of vim. When James Barnes visited him in the prison, it had been four hundred and eighty-five days since he spoke the Sokovian language. He was surprised, following his escape from the prison, by how naturally it came to his lips, and then disturbed to find it recurring without his permission. He would search for a Russian word, and find the Sokovian word there instead. Phrases disarticulated themselves and reassembled in podge-hodge chunks of polyglottism. Dayte mi le knigu. Hast du li videl’ mokh ami?

He feels out of control, no longer practiced at wrangling the storm of undercurrents that run seething, awaiting the moment to reassert themselves again. 

***

It’s easier reassuming the role of baron. And when Zemo welcomes his new companions into his automotive collection, his personal jet, the Avenger (Wilson) looks at him with intermingled disgust and envy. Zemo wonders what Wilson knows about growing up in a place synonymous with war zone, a place that can be, with such indifference, wiped from the map. Perhaps: a bit. Perhaps he knows the precarity of the rat that strains against the limits of its rat-world; the alacrity with which it will climb atop the backs of other rats. Perhaps he knows enough to have some measure of admiration for the nimble and swift acrobatics involved in becoming the king rat. 

His family’s title has been meaningless since 1939. His grandparents and great-grandparents were shiftless and malcontent exiles before that, drifting about the upscale resorts of Europe, racking up some truly aristocratic bills on credit and mysteriously vanishing as part of their exotic-Ottoman act. Only after they’d been stripped of their status did they settle down to make some money: who better to sell you some exceptionally dodgy artifacts than an exceptionally dodgy artifact? He wonders sometimes how many of Sokovia’s Thracian tombs and medieval churches had their treasures pried loose at his grandfather’s hand.

Better, perhaps, that the art survived, he supposes. Given—

See, a man can justify anything. This is his great skill. Imagine the elaborate artifices, or perhaps edifices is the word he intended to have chosen, the high structures he constructs for himself to pretend that he has escaped the land of rats at last.

***

He likes Barnes, and not just with the noblesse oblige that his family, fantastically gifted at speaking in one way and acting in another, took care to drill into him. He likes Barnes because it’s instructive to observe his struggle: here is a man who was a men among men, and now he is not a man any longer, and he thinks this means he can no longer live in the land of men. You can see it on his face, a haunted look, as though the world has invented a new kind of pain just for him. 

Zemo knows him better, perhaps, than anyone has ever known him. Better than he perhaps knows himself. Every video, where video footage exists: Zemo has seen it. Every audio recording of a sound that the Winter Soldier made. 

(What Zemo would confess to an interviewer, if one asked: in all honesty, it becomes rather boring, consuming repeated acts of violence. One person dying looks much like another, and any honest soldier will say so. After a time, you find yourself skipping past the screams and gurgling. You are irritated with how long it takes them to die. With torture, the same: how many times can Barnes’s face achieve the same contortions? Must they use the electricity over and over? Haven’t they a creative bone between them? Zemo knows, of course, that the monotony itself is an aspect of the torture. And, too, it’s useful for the torturers: past a certain point, not only habit but an exhaustion of the empathy sets in. Still, something in him rebels, perhaps his last moral instinct. Yes, it’s true, his boredom is moral! He would like to believe so. Do what you’re going to do, he thinks, but for fuck’s sake don’t make it commonplace.)

He’s even watched the tapes of Barnes’s earliest therapy sessions— not his deprogramming, in Wakanda, where Zemo had failed, to his frustration, to find an in from his prison, but the psychotherapy that followed his return to the United States. The sessions made for quite compelling viewing; in his earliest days of isolation, they obsessed him. Barnes was a ragged, still-feral creature in them. He was prone to prolonged and uncomfortable bouts of silence. It took him a long time to find language. When asked to reflect on this, he sat for a long time without speaking. Zemo can picture him now: oddly soft-edged where he hunched in the oversized armchair, pulling the sleeves of his jumper over his fingers. He had lost a dramatic amount of weight, and his face looked haunted, but he had not yet cut his hair.

“Maybe there are words for what I want to say,” Barnes said, “but don’t know ’em. I don’t know how you would learn ’em. So everything has to be translated. You know? Or— not even translated. It’s like I’m the first person who’s ever had to say it. I’ve got to find the right shape cookie cutter to show you. The right…sharpness.” His metal fingers twitched. Zemo liked to think that he was looking for a knife. 

A knife was a cookie cutter that was always the right shape cookie cutter.

In that moment, watching, Zemo had wished too for a knife. Not because he did not know the borders or form of his response, his reminiscence, but out of outrage at the very authenticity of Barnes’s speechlessness. How, Zemo thought, do you not know the words? 

He had thought that everyone possessed this secret language, though you did not reveal your fluency in it, at least not in polite company. No wonder Barnes is so unmade. He has passed the age when one acquires such skill through sudden immersion.

(He himself experienced, perhaps, the opposite form of immersion. His childhood between the wars was sheltered by privilege, he knew only that any persons could vanish without warning, and that you would hear, later, hushed whispers when their bodies were found: exegesis of the marks from a which a saga of pain could be inferred. Then came age nine, and the daring, unprecedented separatist attack on his prestigious lycée. The wet red flesh of a classmate; the smeared trajectory of a body sketched out where a child had collapsed against a wall. His parents said, This Is No Place For a Child. In a month’s time he was living comfortably in Switzerland, Hong Kong, Madripoor, places that were For a Child. He spoke French, German, and English. In time, he came to associate the Sokovian language with that other language of his childhood: fear and grief. He thought less of his classmates because they were ignorant of these languages, acquired a kind of hauteur about it— at the same time as he understood, on some childish level that resisted penetration, how his expertise was the source of a morbid, drenching shame. )

Perhaps there is a kinship that comes between two men who speak the same language. In Madripoor, he feels it, as he caresses Barnes’s body and detects no flinch. An almost sexual pull there, maybe. Dangerous; electric. 

Does Barnes know that Zemo plans to kill him at the conclusion of this escapade?

Difficult to guess.