#i just don't have much idea on what to draw

[notthegrouch]

The reasoning of "just a tool" shows an incredible understatement of understanding of how much the generative AI is impacting the professional fields, and as a consequence of that, the aspirations of amateurs.

A famous saying in the artistic and literary world is "Ideas are cheap". it's the actual work that goes into the execution that makes art art, and that doesn't have to mean that it all needs to be photorealistic, but that does mean that the process of the art creation is often what is talked about when you see it in museums or at competitions.

Jackson Pollock splattered paint on a canvas, Marcel Duchamp declared a urinoir to be a fountain and it was art; the idea was cheap. The boldness of actually going all in on the simplicity of that process and taking it seriously, openly and honestly showing that their process WAS in fact just splattering paint or picking up ready made objects, that was all very new.

in the same way, you can't really pull that off nowadays anymore, because you'll just be someone who imitates Pollock or Duchamps.

Some artists, however use large machines and robotics. This looks very cool! The Robotic art piece Can't Help Myself has been seen on tumblr, the sad robotic arm that does a little dance as dark red liquid oozes out, until it seemingly panics and quickly starts wiping the liquid back into itself. The machinery is used here as "just a tool" too.

But the incredibly widespread application of AI art combines all the worst factors of all of this; AI makes it very easy to execute any cheap idea and get an artwork that looks decent at first glance, but there's nothing really bold or honest about pretending to have made an oil painting while you know nothing about oil, paint, or color theory. There is barely any process to speak of, other than the prompt/programming that was offered to the AI and the amount of iterations the computer went through until you reach the desired result. but since most of the process happens through machine learning, we can't really peer into that in the same way that we can peer into humans without humanizing the machine. At the same time, because a lot of AI function via the internet (though of course not all of them do), there's also a little bit of obscuring that goes on when it comes to the process. in art, when I think of "just a tool", I think of a brush, a pencil, a pen. in some cases a personal computer, or a drawing tablet. house hold items, that, although some can be expensive, or big, are ultimately clearly tools.

What I DON'T think of when someone mentions tools are factory machines that could replace 90% of a work force. When a car factory is managed by 100 mechanics, and 90 of them get replaced by robotic arms, it's not the correct terminology to say "don't worry, that arm is just a tool". And if hundreds or thousands of amateur crafters suddenly start building shoddy cars in their back yard because they could afford to have such a mechanical arm installed, would you still feel safe on the road? The amount of mechanical arms suddenly being on the market drives up the prices of computers. Generative AI is that mechanical arm. The internet is being overrun with quickly made, shoddy art, often presented as realistic depictions of either hand made art, or even real life photography. AI art that, within it's own picture, boldly shows to be AI art is very rare and unsurprisingly THAT is the AI art that can also be seen in museums sometimes. At the same time the popularity of the AI art causes a host of environmental concerns and unforeseen political problems. Art, messaging and propaganda is made at a scale never seen before, and it's doing damage.

So when people say AI is just a tool, no it's not. It's a factory machine capable of replacing an artistic team, being put into the hands of the common people, and treated as if it's merely a pencil. And it is spreading very very cheap ideas very very quickly.

i literally dont care what your excuse for using AI is. if you didnt put your own effort into making it im not putting my own effort into interacting with it.

[albondiguilla007]

Drarry as Hogwarts Professors

✨ Finely Drawn Lines / 61k / Draco doesn't consider himself an artist (though the dozens of sketchbooks lining his shelves might suggest differently). Yet ever since Potter returned to Hogwarts, accepting a teaching position alongside Draco, his drawings have taken on a rather singular focus. From the curl of his lips to the exact number of lines that form at the corners of his eyes when he laughs, Draco has catalogued every shade of one Harry James Potter between the pages of his sketchbook.

So long as Potter remains none the wiser, Draco will have no trouble controlling his crush.

But when Potter comes to him with a dangerous proposition, Draco fears things are about to get so much more complicated.

✨ head over heels / 21k / Everyone in Harry's life thinks he's engaged to Malfoy. The solution to this is not pretending to date Malfoy, but here he is doing that anyway.

✨ A Lick and a Promise / 55k / Something sinister stirs in Hogwarts!

When magical creatures and students at the school are hit with a debilitating blood curse, Minerva McGonagall approaches the Ministry for help.

Star Auror Harry Potter seems to be the obvious choice to go undercover-as

DADA Professor, naturally. He's going to need the help of the Ministry's foremost expert in blood magic to get to the bottom of the mystery, though, and he's not entirely convinced that going back to Hogwarts with Draco Malfoy is a good idea.

Things are complicated between them-what's new?-but they know they have to learn to work together (and keep their hands off each other in the corridors) in order to solve this case.

Luckily for them, Hogwarts itself wants to lend a hand.

A tale of love, lessons, and learning to really live.

✨ Darkest Before the Dawn / 47k / The last thing Draco wanted was to show up at Harry Potter's door, cursed blind and holding a boxful of his friends Transfigured into snakes, but here he was.

Between breaking the curse, adjusting to life without sight, and teaching his Defence Against the Dark Arts classes, Draco's got his hands full. Being forced to live with Harry Potter might just be the death of him.

This is a story about the bonds of friendship, fairy tale endings, and learning to ask for help (even from Gryffindors).

✨ how can i love what i know i'm gonna lose? (don't make me choose) / 8k / Harry's soulmark is his scar, but he doesn't know that. He thinks he has no soulmate.

And Draco, who has Harry Potter's scar on the inside of his hip, is not planning on ever telling him. Ever. It would break him in two.

But when Hogwarts institutes a Health Ed week where Draco is tasked with the topic of soulmates, he begins to think maybe Harry needs to know.

✨ The New Potions Professor / 33k / Harry wearily entered the teachers’ lounge to meet the new Potions professor. After much convincing by McGonagall, Slughorn had finally agreed to retire and take better care of his health.

So now some new Potions master was taking his place, and they had arrived today.

Harry went inside and froze immediately.

“You’ve got to be joking.” He said.

or

Harry has taught Defense Against Dark Arts for over a decade and a half and Malfoy thinks he can just waltz into Hogwarts and teach too? Absolutely not.

✨ Phoenix in the Fire / 28k / Harry never expected to have a hot summer fling with Draco Malfoy when he agreed to mind the castle with him. He also never expected that it would all have to end on August thirty-first. What happens when casual sex with Harry’s ex-enemy turns not casual after all? And how the hell is he going to stop Draco from making one of the biggest mistakes of his life?

✨ Two Shadows in the Night / 81k / Five years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry returns to his old school to claim the position of DADA teacher.

The way he's been ignoring his issues and trying to live up to everyone's impossibly high expectations is catching up to him. Will a certain blond ex-Death Eater be able to help him finally heal?

✨ Most Favourite Bedtime Story / 46k / Scorpius' most favourite bedtime story? The story of how his parents fell in love. And his grandmother tells it the best!

✨ Living in a Muggle World / 22k / After getting together during Eighth year, Harry and Draco move to Harry's cottage in the Scottish countryside and Draco starts working in a muggle library.

Or

My flimsy excuse to write the sappiest, cutesiest shit with almost no plot and love-letters and cheesy poems and I have absolutely no excuses or regrets.

✨ Spoiled Little Brat / 9k / Harry won't stoop to Malfoy's level.

Really, he won't.

(He will.)

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

Could you do a one-shot where alastor is super nervous when meeting reader, not really on his face but more his body language where when she shakes his hand he continues shaking it or doesn't let go immediately. nervous smile too lol, thanks love your stuff!!

Heeey I wrote it hope you don't mind some interpretation on my part! You didn't mention why Alastor was nervous so I just did whatever ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Tags: Oblivious Alastor, Cartoonist Writer, Humor, awkward affection, Alastor is either oblivious or in-denial, Nifty is Nifty and you should all love her

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

Alastor’s introduction to you was not a willing one. Charlie had started a bit of a bookclub at the Hotel as some odd attempt at bonding. Alastor wanted no part of it, but after the 532nd time Charlie asked him he said something particularly scathing and the princess was cruel and told Vaggie, and the ex-exorcist would NOT stop stabbing his door until he finally relented.

Of course, his choice of book was one called ‘Blank’. It was a notebook with nothing written in it. Very easy to discuss at a bookclub.

Charlotte was not impressed and Vagatha once again starting throwing vague threats in his direction. How tempted he was to just kill both of them, but alas this hotel has been the greatest form of entertainment he’s had in years (is what he tells himself.)

Darling Nifty came to his rescue, offering up a variety of different light-reading to be discussed in the future. Most of which were….not to his taste. Nifty’s interests highlighted most definitely, but Alastor quickly chucked the books out the window when the story turned to ….that.

As the number of books dwindled, he was just about prepared to give up on this stack entirely and fetch something meaningless to pretend to read (who’d check, anyway?).

He picked up one, a flimsy comic-book like thing and rolled his eyes once before giving it a go. The story wasn’t anything particularly interesting. The plot was just two bunnies going to get some ice cream. But the wordplay, the exaggeration of all the smallest obstacles, how self-aware and absurd it was gave him a good laugh. The Radio Demon’s first introduction to your work.

Although the bookclub idea ended up going nowhere, Alastor found himself seeking out more of your works. Another about a man just making a taco, one about a woman folding her laundry. So many little, day-to-day situations amplified to a ridiculous amount. Clever one-liners and humorous puns sprinkled throughout kept it intelligent enough for him to maintain interest despite the absurdity of it all.

Eventually he got a cartoon you drew that seemed just the same as the rest. Some random cute cartoon raccoon drawing some random little cartoon things. There was a scene in it though that stuck to Alastor’s mind (and dare he say, heart) like glue.

In it, the raccoon was confronted by a shark. “Why do you bother making these?” the shark sneered “No one reads these but you, no one looks at them but you, there’s no point.”

“Why does there need to be a point?” The raccoon said. Alastor’s ears straightened up on their own accord as he read “Even if no one sees it, it’s something I made and it’s some I enjoyed making.”

“Even if you put it out there, no one will care about it.”

“Someone will. They might not say anything but there’ll always be at least one.”

“Do you know how stupid you sound? No one gives a crap about your ��passions’!”

“I do.”

“Do you know how stupid you sound-“

And then the raccoon pressed a button and an anvil fell onto the shark, comedically turning it into a pancake. “Your argument doesn’t have any depth.” The raccoon said. The story moved on from there.

It struck a bit of a chord with Alastor, he could admit that much to himself. And the raccoon’s way of dealing it was something he’d keep in mind for his next encounter with an annoyance. He didn’t put much stock in it, as storytellers and their stories don’t always agree on all things.

Your comics were a little joyful distraction when he needed them, that was all. Nothing deep and profound.

“BOSS!”

Alastor slammed shut the book he was reading, his grin never faltering though his twitching ears indicated a slight nervousness. He tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Hello, Nifty! Did you need something?”

Nifty scamped up his chair and onto his lap, settling down andstaring up at him with her one big eye. “BOSS BOSS BOSS BOSS I MET THE DEMONESS WHO DRAWS THOSE CARTOONS YOU LIKE”

Alastor’s eye twitched “Oh? Well, that’s neat.”

She stood up, squishing his face between her hands and stared more as her grin grew wider and more manic “Did you want to meet her?”

Yes

“Now, now, Nifty.” Alastor said as he removed her hands from his face “There’s better ways to waste one’s time.”

Nifty tilted her head, staring at him as though it would allow her to see into his mind. Her expression shifted into….One he hadn’t seen on Nifty, admittedly. The best way he could describe it was ‘smug’. But what would she have to be smug about?”

“If you say so, Boss!” She chirped, hopping off his lap and trotting off “But yeah I was at the Evermore Book-Store and she was there working ‘cause I guess that’s what she does for a livng….” Nifty’s voice faded away as the little maid walked off, not caring her rambling were being said to no one.

After Alastor had finished his errands for the day, he happened by that very store…for…Reasons. Upon entering it, he realized he had no idea who- what- he was looking for. The store itself wasn’t large. A couple patrons, one large hulking demon with tiny spectacles at the desk and a much smaller one organizing shelves.

One of the workers, then?

Not that he cared.

“Pardon me!” Alastor chirped to the desk demon. Their big eyes seemed to move in slow motion to him, a low grunt accompanying the acknowledgement. “I’m looking for someone, yes? The author of some silly comics?”

The demon slowly narrowed their eyes, lips curling up into a snarl as a growl emanated from them.

“Ah, so she is here?”

The demon planted their very large hands on the desk, pushing themselves up to stand at their full height. They were taller than Alastor by a good three feet, and much more muscular as well. Their nostrils flared, blowing hot air into his face.

Alastor wasn’t the slightest bit phased. (He found it funny, actually). “So may I speak to her?”

The large demon opened up their gaping jaw-

“That’s me, hi! How can I help you?” The shelf-stacking demon interrupted, getting between Alastor and the clerk demon. A nervous little lady with a wobbly unsure smile and bags under her eyes that looked like they could carry the entirety of Hell in them.

Alastor held up one of your comics- a book that has been very obviously well-read “You’re the creator of these splendid little things?”

“Splendid…?” You repeated him, trailing off into an amused snort “Er. Yeah, I wrote and drew those.” The Clerk behind you closed their mouth, setting back down on their chair and adjusting their spectacles. The glare didn’t leave Alastor.

“Well, my dear, I find I quite enjoy them! It’s quite a pleasure to meet you.” Alastor said, not paying the larger (glowering) demon any mind. He found himself wondering why you were so tired and so timid. A woman like you should be so much more cheerful! Alastor was a tad offended….Because you weren’t smiling like he did. That’s it. Really.

“Well. I’m glad you like them.” You said. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” You offered your hand for him to shake.

One of his ears twitched. You must be fairly new to Hell, to offer a handshake so easily. Or perhaps a bit sheltered or on the naïve side. Alastor briefly considered making a sly deal to take your soul, but… Well, there was no need for that.

He took your hand and gave it a firm shake. Your hand was so much smaller than his own, but it felt as though it warmed his entire body. This was strange. Perhaps you were casting some spells on him? Why was he finding it so hard to focus- why did he feel like he didn’t know what to say next- why-

The Clerk gripped Alastor’s arm in between two fingers, gently but assertively pulling it away from you. You took half a step back, cradling your arm to your chest as if he burned you. Alastor glared up at the Clerk “Is there a problem?”

The large demon growled. You intervened again “Er….You were just. Holding my hand for a while. It was……kind of weird.”

“Ah.” Alastor cleared his throat, straightening his posture with a flourish “My apologies! Mind was elsewhere, you know how it is with us creative types.”

You blinked. Then your timid smile turned a bit more confident. A bit more…like a smirk. “Er. Yeah, I guess so. Well. See you around, I guess?”

“If I have the time, I suppose!” Alastor grinned “Well then, I must be off! Ta-ta!”

You watched as the strange demon disappeared into shadows and slivered off. As soon as all trace of him was gone, you laughed quietly into your hand “Well, I can certainly say for certain I know someone ‘awkward as hell’ now.”

Your friend groaned, gently pushing you over as they continued their own work.

[hai7ani]

mmmm no super great ideas for you but im craving for virgin!rindou and single mom reader… aaaaaauhagghg.

collection

慢一點，久一點，真一點。

Rindou initiates the talk first.

It happens on a game of WNRS in your living room, takeout boxes long forgotten on the coffee table. The TV is playing a movie you're sure neither of you are really watching, yet you still want to pretend that you are.

You've been giggling at him for the past hour. He's a pretty funny guy, you think. Doesn't have as big of an ego you thought guys like him would have.

He's a nerd who's always so observant and nice. He's nice to you, your son, the ladies living in your apartment complex who always needs help switching light bulbs because they're too old for that now. One time behind doors Yuzuha's said that she'd smash if he weren't such a loser all the time.

(You think he is, too.

But it's what that makes him so... fuckable.

You think it's bad that you keep having these thoughts, knowing that you're most probably leading him on.

You're not ready yet.

But your heart still thumps weirdly when he comes to visit with warm food and occasionally new toys that you can tell he's had a hard time picking for your boy 一 because he's somehow always one colour off, or one category away.

When he bought Hot Wheels, the kid's already moved on to playing Legos. And when he gifted an expensive Star Wars set that he saved up for, the little shit just has to be in his Mommy phase.)

He gets embarrassed easily and you can just tell he's a virgin with the way he treats porn magazines that Yuzuha has somehow gotten her hands on, stuffed behind cabinets so that Shou doesn't find them. Neither of you let her know that she's been exposed, but it's more fun this way.

He's just a guy. Genuine, very smart despite what he says. Not book smart, but he reads up on things a lot. A bit clumsy at times, but he's still responsive than most men.

He's easy to talk to. Easy to know.

Easy to一

"What's a compliment you wished you received more frequently? Oh, dang. I gotta think about this." He flips the card around, throwing his head back onto the couch.

And yet again一

"Do you wanna go first?"

What are guys like him?

"I wish more people told me I was pretty."

Your response came to you naturally. It poured like waterfall, thorny chain tightening around your heart, squeezing your flesh tight, and you busy yourself with a loose thread on your blanket.

Rindou only stares at you from the other end of the couch. Almost like a deadpan, but not really. His violets pierce through your soul, dissecting you up one by one. You don't make eye contact even when you can hear the silent screams for you to look at him.

"You're kidding."

"What? It's true."

"No. I mean, no one tells you that all the time?"

You crack a smile, glancing up to take just one quick look. He's still as handsome as ever, boyish features much more prominent under the yellow light illuminating the room.

Soft nose, pretty doe eyes. Cracked lips pink from the Malatang you love eating. Veiny hands 一 one thick, desirable finger twirling around the drawstring of his pants 一 that draws you in so close you can't help but go wild at the sight.

"What, you think I'm pretty?"

He doesn't cough like you'd expected him to. Doesn't get embarrassed or act any more like a classic, textbook virgin at your poke.

"Yeah. You're pretty." His voice gets softer with every syllable. Dodgy eyes looking away with each word.

You don't respond at that, but you can't lie that his compliment did make you feel something swirling on the inside. Something blooming in your tummy from the way his eyes look into your own.

It's true 一 you haven't been told for your looks as much as you've always wanted. You're hot, you're sexy, sure 一 but you haven't been pretty to them. You've always hoped that they could see past your body 一 to see you for who you are on the inside.

"You're一" He shifts in his seat, suddenly feeling a little too hot, heart beating a little too fast in his chest. "You're pretty, okay. You always spend too much time in the mirror but I think you're fine just like this."

You purse your lips, listening.

"You're... Shit, I'm一"

You understand him when he throws his pillow to the side to run fingers through his hair. He's not always good with words, hasn't always been. But he still tries, and you like that about him.

He always puts in effort.

"You're pretty, like music. There's no boundaries, no... box. You can be anything. It's cool."

You grin at that. "Really?"

A nod. "I can tell you that everyday from now on."

An awkward silence too heavy for any of you to handle covers the room like blanket too fast. The soft, anticipating smirk on his face drops when you shift in your seat, clicking your tongue. Fingers scratching at your brows, teeth biting into the corners of your lips.

"Rindou, I'm sorry if I have been leading you on, I一" You sigh. "I don't think I'm ready for一."

"No, wait一" He tries inching a hand towards you but you dodge. "I thought we一 Aren't we onto something here?"

Rindou feels pathetic. He feels as if he's reaching for something that seems close but is still so, so far away.

"No, I'm sorry. I'll pay you back for tonight's dinner. And I don't think you should come over so often anymore. I'll talk to Shou-chan, have him understand."

He lets out a breath too short, standing on his feet as if it'll help him figure you out better. "Why? Is it me?"

"I just don't think it's fair to you, okay? We should stop. I'm sorry."

"What isn't fair to me?"

You give him a look so sad that his heart hurts.

"You're gonna be dealing with a kid that's not yours. He's hyperactive and naughty before bed. He's picky with food and doesn't like taking showers. Worst of all you're gonna be dealing with me. I'm not easy. I'm difficult to manage, to handle, to一 You'll not like me anymore when you see it for yourself. Guys like you deserve better things."

Fuck.

Rindou scrunches his brows, face twisting into one of confusion, one that makes you seem crazy for saying what you said.

"Why do you say these things about yourself? Why do you say these things about him? He's just a kid, I'm not good with kids but I'm sure I can handle him out of all." He throws his hands up in the air a little. "And, seriously, guys like me? What am I like? Why do you assume that way about me? I'm not that kind of person. I don't like doing that."

You fight the tears threatening to fall. It hurts, to say the least.

"Like, why do you think I've been around for so long? I would've turned on my back long ago if you and Shou were so hard to love."

requests are open

[zorilleerrant]

"You consider me your priestess?" the girl - the old woman, now, but you can still see her rosy cheeks the first time she came to visit you - asks you. It's hard to determine her tone of voice. She doesn't sound offended, at least, although she also doesn't sound like she believes you're a god. That, at least, is expected.

You wave your hand vaguely. You didn't get the gesture quite right, but humans always change their body language, and it's been too long since you needed to be human for anything. "It's not that you are. But you're the closest I've had in generations, and I would mark you one, if you want me to." You sit, casually, on a bench that wasn't there a moment before, hoping she'll do the same.

The old woman eyes it suspiciously. She's been here for every birthday since she found the place, and many informal days besides, and she knows there was never a bench here. Still, with a weary sigh, she sits beside you. "I'd like that, I think. I never had the test scores to join any of the big priesthoods. Get one over on them, a little bit." She laughs, and her teen years, writing scathing takedowns of theological papers, come back into view for a moment.

You touch her hand. There's a spark of magic. You don't need to, you never used to, but humans are more skeptical these days, and even your most devoted follower doesn't remember the old ways.

For a moment fleeting even by her standards, you wonder if she might have brought them back. But the fishing town isn't what it once was, and no one much makes the hike up here anymore, save curious children and nostalgic adults.

"Do you want me to do anything?" your priestess asks you, a wry smiling wrinkling the still plump curve of her cheeks. "Carry a sign, maybe? Rush into the town and curse their names for not giving you your due respect? I can do a mean scolding these days."

You laugh, hand still resting over hers. "If you like." The idea of her running among the fishmongers, giving over amulets with every sale, making rude gestures when they're refused, is incomparable. The only thing she really needs is The Book, though. You fold open your altar, the way she's done so many times, and bring out the box she admired enough to start polishing gently when she came to visit, telling you about her travels and her art.

"Oh, you again," your priestess says, in delight, laying a delicate hand on the smooth wood. "I learned woodworking and inlay because of you, you little scamp." When she draws her fingers down the sides, this time, the box opens, with a click she can barely hear. Her ears aren't what they once were. Her gasp is the same as it ever was, though, and she taps The Book reverently.

"I never had many rules, even back in the beginning," you tell her, opening the cover so she knows it's safe. "What ones I had don't matter so much, I think - although I'd ask you to be careful where you summon storms, if you try it." You don't know if she has the power for that, anymore. She delved deep into magic in her mid-life crisis, but you've rarely seen her use it since, and you don't know if hers has waned or blossomed in her twilight years.

She looks over the spells. She can read the annotations, still, at least. "It's a lot of power for one person." She flexes her fingers, summoning wisps of what might be the core of some major working, if she concentrated a little harder. "Would you mind if I taught these to people? Not to join your priesthood, mind, just so there could be a little more magic in the world."

You pause. You should have considered that. Many of your siblings have left their words and their magics to the world as their respect faded away, and even more have begun recovery as lost arts. You didn't know your priestess was a teacher. You knew she'd taught a few times, when the calling struck her, but never that she felt the need in her heart. "Of course," you say. The spells are mostly weak now, you think. The time for hiding them is long past. If there's something in there that can help, so be it.

She grins at you. Her teeth are still hardy, and the candlelight flashes pleasingly against them. "Of course you'd mind, or of course you wouldn't? Don't give me any loopholes, now, Your Divinity," she laughs at her own joke, the way she started doing when she broke free of childish attempts at maturity, but still, she waits for your answer, taking your hand in hers again.

"Share them however you'd like," you tell her, knowing that it means she'll record it down to scans and recreations, "the knowledge within is yours." It's clear she'll get years of delight out of it. You don't know how much she might change the world of the handful of enthusiasts she chooses to work with her. It's a nice bookend for a life full of adventure, you think, a discovery like that.

She kisses the book, gently, on the gilded cover. Then, almost as an afterthought, she kisses your cheek as well. "Thank you," she says. Then she opens it again, absorbed in the pages, well past when the evening grows dark. You keep the candles burning higher for her, so she never has to stop her perusal. It's soothing, to watch a priestess once again hard at work. She looks up. "Is this the gift?"

"What?" you ask, caught off guard. Even through all your disciples, you never managed to learn which times connect to each other in the mind of a human. You'd thought that question long forgotten, and hadn't planned on answering right now.

"The gift you said you wanted to give me. Is The Book the gift?" she asks, in confusion. Books are wonderful, powerful things, of course, but they aren't secret. Hidden, often, and protected, and sometimes held to only the most intimate of worshipers, but they're nothing unexpected, not for a deity to give.

You lean back on the bench you never rose from, and wonder if you should bring in desks for those she plans to teach. "No. I was going to offer you your choice of afterlife, when the time comes." You watch her as she frowns. You wonder if she already has an answer in mind. You wonder if she knew since she was knee high with a scraped arm, or since she was a teenager bent on escaping her classmates, or since she was learning to grow and just choosing her passion. She just looks at you, not answering.

Then, weary minutes later - weary for her, where each night brings aches the day didn't; you're happy to wait - she asks, almost rudely, "not soon, I hope?" Her chin juts out as it used to.

"Not so soon for you," you say, thoughtfully, "although too soon for me, I must admit."

She nods, still cradling The Book carefully. "I thought, once you'd made me your priestess, I'd end up going where all your servants go," she says, sounding, of all thing, patient about it. You don't know how much she knows about your afterlife. You've never discussed it with her. Even when you were popular, once, that was never much of the details that caught people's eye.

"Normally only monks go there," you say, not that you'd discourage her, if she wanted to stay always by your side. "It's a place for quiet contemplation, mostly. Even of my priesthood, only the ones who valued their silence ever stayed." You can see her, in a long gown, roaming the halls in a circle, thinking. You can't see her enjoying it for more than a short time.

"You'd have to send me away," she says, ruefully. Then she pauses to think. "You won't pick for me? I can pick?"

Still, you think, she might have you picking her home, anyway. So many of yours did. Even the ones who earned the highest honors left everything in your hands, and here she is a priestess of moments only, ready to upset everything. Or nothing, if you ask her not to. You close her hands around The Book again.

"Think on it," you say, and wait for next year.

While other god's shrines are magnificent, yours is a bit too humbling. And yet a little girl visits you every year after stumbling upon it, never missing a year even as she grows old. Deeply moved, you decide to give her a parting gift greater than what any other God would dare to give.

[meanbossart]

Hellow

I was catching up with the latest chapters of ANE before reading The Spice™️ and I was reminded of how well you build and describe the environment surrounding your characters. Which prompts me to ask:

1 Do you have any drawings/sketches of landscapes and places from ANE that you can/would like to share?

2 Any advice for someone (me) that isn’t really good at putting their characters in places? I always end up with either a ‘too crowded’ or a ‘too barren’ of a setting.

Thank you for reading and hopefully answering my questions byee:3

Hello!!

Thank you! I have no idea what I'm doing so I'm glad I'm able to paint a good enough picture 😅

I do have two VERY simple sketches of the house of blood/the compound that I made to compare against my boyfriend's mental picture of it, basically to see how well I had been able to describe it since it's by far the most challenging area to put down into text.

(everything is very boxy and not exactly the ideal proportion, but again, this was a very simple sketch I made to "aid" the descriptions rather than for it to stand on its own at all) Here you see the "apple core" of the hive with the drow settlement and all the precarious platforms that interconnect and spring out of it. The cabins you see are sometimes two stories high so the area us actually quite big! Which is how Do'zynge is able to walk across the support-beams on the underside of said platforms even though he's rather large for a drider. The catwalk pictured can be moved up and down to connect people to different floors a little faster.

Here's a similar sketch based off of an specific scene, this one focuses more on the walkways built into the walls. I'm not sure why I huddled the doors together so much, they should definitely be more spaced out.

Also, while I used the same shorthand for everything, the spawn living spaces are all wood and stone - from the doors to the floor and railings. While the drow settlement (where Dalyria is too) is mostly metal and well structured tents.

For your second question, that's rough because I am also never quite satisfied with my descriptions 😂but I think that's a part of it; you need to make peace with the fact that you will NOT be able to paint a perfect picture, and think of the whole process as less of a job that you must do alone, but rather a collaboration between you and the reader's own creativity! You have to be willing to put some of the onus on them to imagine what it is you're trying to transcribe, instead feeling under the obligation of giving them exact descriptions for every little thing.

I try to use words that evoke a specific style and mood - say that the room is ornamental, warm, say that it's all golden and red and six sentences from now mention that the couch your character sat in is velvety. Reveal things as they come into relevance instead of interrupting the pace for two entire paragraphs to describe the room your characters just walked into - when appropriate, consider what they would even pay attention to at all and maybe limit yourself to it. Set a rough base for your environment at the start of a scene and then sprinkle descriptors in throughout the prose, and always consider if you truly NEED to get into the specifics of something or if the reader can be left to their own imaginative devices.

Also, unless necessary or some sort of plot device, I find that trying to establish where things are in a room (doors, furniture, stairs) in a map-like manner is a waste of time. Just say "behind him", "to her left", "right ahead", I don't think being overly specific benefits anybody - your reader picturing this set of stairs facing the west rather than the east is unlikely to be consequential to your narrative.

That being said, don't shy away from pointing "unnecessary" things out when they help set a mood, or help in characterization. Way early in ANE there's a scene where DU drow walks into the room where him, Astarion, and Shadowheart have been staying and are now about to leave, he takes note of the fact that one of them made the bed - he doesn't say who, besides that it wasn't himself, but I put that there to hopefully establish from early on that one character's priorities had started to change. In the compound, Dalyria is described as collecting useless things she found in the underground and displaying them around the office - this, on top of her new look, outfit, and company should paint a picture. Irennor's living situation should say all there is to know about him, and the way DU drow dismantles his belongings after only what is immediately valuable instead of considering the historical significance of anything says something about him, too. That's my favorite way of setting scenes, by finding out how to say something about the people in it.

[writingwisterias]

How would the different eras of Leon act if he knows he shouldn’t be with the reader (ada wong typa shit) but he can’t escape from her like whenever something happens (like maybe she spotted arias’s wedding in vendetta ?) she is deff a part of it and he keeps running into the reader 🙏 i love your work btw you’re the reason why i keep refreshing the tag 💪💜

Hiii

I love this idea lmao and thank you! You are so sweet - I hope you have a great day <3

Warnings: None Fem! reader

RE2:

Post the events of the game let's say he sees you around the training grounds

After the events you both went through at a young age I think he finds it easier to blame you for letting him fall for Ada's tricks

It grows heated and hurts you that he treats you like that around the camp

Krasuer actually makes you sparing partners on purpose hoping that you would hone in your anger and focus on creating your skills

It doesn't work

RE4R:

He sees you as he's running around but almost plays it off as just a figment of his imagination

It would a similar reaction to Ada in the game but let's say he actually is hung up you and has feelings then he would slip up more

He'll expose these feelings more often than showing you he's angry.

I don't think however you would use this to your advantage but find it cute that he is struggling

He's almost drawn to be at your side more than he is to focus on the mission. Ashley's presence is a reminder of what he's meant to be doing

Infinite Darkness:

Grows frustrated at first, like how are you here again

At this point I think he'll just assume the universe thinks you are meant to be together

Again is more likely to draw in close and team up in a way where he's not just straight up being used

He's been there done that

Better at hiding his feelings but does slip up a few times

Damnation:

He's beginning to get used to it at this point, I don't think he would really get mad

I think again it's just surprising how you are always there as a thing in his life and he never seems to know you very well

Playful banter, enough to get through the mission

Kinda accepts what you do as he's just used to it at this point so there's no tension or arguments on that front

He assumes you are hear on orders for someone. Doesn't agree to it but if you don't stop him from doing his job he wont stop you doing yours

RE6:

He surprised you are here, like he just wasn't expecting you to be involved with this plot scheme or that it was that large you would have an interest in it

Smiles to himself every time you talk or do something to help him. He's smitten at this point.

The dynamic has shifted dramatically at this point, there is hidden feelings waiting to be exposed or spoken about.

But when do either of you have the time?

It's just forever left unspoken

It would be easier to deal with it like this but at the end of the day it's too obvious now

The final 'goodbye' is the hardest

Vendetta:

So I think he would actually get annoyed but because he's not in the right frame of mind to deal with the emotions that follow from seeing you

He would provide information for the others about you if you are involved.

When he actually sees you he's silent. Not really talking to you all that much.

After the mission though when he's starting to get in a better mindset I think he will attempt to reach out

Maybe for some stability after all you have been there through literally everything

It could progress romantically but I think that's just what you were both expecting at this point if it does happen.

Soulmates in a way

Death Island:

You are either currently fucking or have fucked recently

Lingering touches when he does see you, its playful and the other don't really know how to react

He's not surprised that you are somehow involved and will stick by your side during the fights just in case

You both meet up together of course

At this point you just accept each others company and allows it to develop in whatever way it does

If it works out then great. If not then until next time.

[pupslimes]

don't let me in with no intention to keep me...

what if i wrote porn? i asked, and then proceeded to write 2k words of foreplay instead. whatever i will eventually add onto this. everyone say yay if you like mutual masturbation because hi. it is another weakness of mine. also my beta told me they read all rpf slime in edward twilights voice so. coping with that. also also reader is afab but i kinda wanna make them a trans guy because reasons

..................................................................................

A hand drags you into the house by your wrist, grip tight and warm. You kick the door closed behind you, and not thirty seconds later Charlie has your back against it and his mouth to yours. The grip on your wrist doesn’t soften, instead, it tugs insistently until your arm floats above your head, and he pins it to the door above you, grip tightening almost imperceptibly. A small whine tumbles into your mouth as he runs his tongue along your bottom lip, begging you. Another sigh escapes him as you open your mouth, and you swallow it while you meet his tongue with yours, pressing gently into his mouth. The heat is practically radiating off of him, and the grip on your wrist gets more insistent, as you let him explore your mouth until you absolutely have to breathe. “Char…” you gasp out, sucking in air, the stars that gathered in the edges of your vision slowly dissapating.

He’s in front of you, eyes wide and lips glistening, chest heaving like yours, but still looking like he’s barely stopping himself from diving back in. “Yeah…” he whispers. He stares at you reverently, almost uncomfortably, but you cant find it in yourself to feel anything but excitement.

You grin slightly. “Come back here. Please,”

Charlie chuckles. “Planning on it,” he grins as he dives back in, slamming his mouth onto yours. As cool as he was acting you could feel his body almost trembling with need for you. It was your fourth date, and he’d played the gentleman for weeks now, barely kissing your cheek as a goodbye when he dropped you off at your door each time. When you’d expressed concern before leaving the car at the end of this date, wondering if he liked you or not, he raked a hand through his hair. “That isn’t it. I like you. A lot,”

“Then what is it?”

“I think I like you too much. Like if I touched you I wouldn’t be able to stop.”

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, not sure whether or not to believe him, and the movement caught Charlie’s eye. He groaned, dropping his head into his hands briefly. “You’re too pretty. I’m trying very hard to be respectful right now, and you’re making it very difficult.”

You made a split second decision, and leaned forward over the center console of the car. “Char,” His breath caught in his throat lightly. “I want you to kiss me. Please,” Charlie’s mouth opened slightly, and he seemed to struggle for words. “Don’t you want to?” you pouted lightly. You knew you were teasing him, but you couldn’t help yourself. You’d been waiting for this man to kiss you for weeks at this point, and you were tired of waiting.

His eyebrows furrowed softly, slight worry evident in his eyes. “Well, obviously. But..” You cut him off, leaning in further and pressing your mouth to his gently. When nothing happened, you started to draw away, but he followed you over, chasing your mouth with his, hands tangling into your hair almost desperately. He pulled you back into him, mouth clumsily latching onto yours again. “Fuck,” was muttered against your mouth as he bit down on the same spot that was just between your teeth. He jolted at your whimper, groaning softly. A glance down confirmed he was already growing in his pants. His cheeks flushed slightly at your gaze. “I told you,” he groaned. “You have no idea what you do to me,”

Not pulling away too far, you gently whispered, “Want to come in?” He leaned in as your breath ghosted over his face.

And that’s how you found yourself now, pressed against your front door, one of Charlie’s hands pinning your wrist and the other on your waist, softly bucking his hips as his mouth trailed hot kisses down your neck. He gnaws at you like a starving man, leaving marks that would surely need to be covered up tomorrow, only seeming to double down each time a noise slipped past your lips.

“Char…ah, baby…” you managed to get out, and he looked to you, eyes hazy. You start working off your shoes. “Couch, right now, please,” He nods, releasing your arm as he toes off his own shoes and bolted down the hall, running like he knew where he was going. You hear him slide to a stop at the end, socked feet rustling against carpet as he spun in a circle, wondering with way to go. Sense of decorum lost, you drop your keys on the wood floor, making note to apologize to your cat later before racing after him. As you round the corner, his arms envelop you again, nose pressed into the crook of your neck.

“Fuck, baby. Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to do this?”

“Two months?” you wager a guess, calculating time since your first date.

“Make that three,” It had taken a month for you both to have been in town at the same time after you matched. It turns out getting on dating apps during the holidays to prove to your parents you actually were talking to people didn’t turn out well when you actually wanted to talk to the people. You thank your lucky stars Charlie had held out for you, even if now you knew why.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs into your neck, the vibrations sending a shiver down your spine. “Perfect. Wanted to fuck you so bad,” A whimper escapes your lips. “You like that, baby? Like when I tell you how much I wanna fuck you?” A tongue up your exposed collarbone. “Come sit in my lap, sweetheart,” Teeth against the spot where your neck and shoulder met. “You can feel how much I want it,” A kiss on a particularly dark mark on your neck.

You turn the two of you in the direction of the living room, and he takes charge again. You’re suddenly thankful he leads you to the couch and guides you into his lap, legs straddling each side of him. You didn’t think that at this point, you could have done it yourself, knees too weak and legs too shaky at Charlie’s words to get there yourself. “Good baby,” he crooned gently as you settle, and your head falls to his shoulder as you whine again. He chuckled softly. “You sound so pretty when you get all flustered. And it’s so easy yo do it too…I don’t think you’d survive half the things I’ve thought about you,” You shake your head, keeping your face in his shoulder so he can’t see your cheeks warming further. He leans down, and you feel his tongue graze the shell of your ear. “I’m going to tell you all of them anyways,” Your hips buck slightly into his, seeking friction, and you feeel him smile against your skin. “Come back up here and kiss me again,” he murmurd, and obviously you oblige, mouth meeting his. As the kiss grew more and more heated, his hand slips under your shirt, palming gently at your chest.

“Oh, fuck,” you break away, arching into his touch. “Please don’t stop,”

“I can’t,” he breathes, reverently, and slides a second hand onto your skin, rucking up your shirt. “Off. Please. You look so pretty in it but I need it off,” You’d worn his favorite color tonight, hoping he’d notice, and maybe finally have the guts to kiss you this time. You can’t help flushing at the memory now.

You reach down to quickly tug it over your head, hoping the brief cover would hide your burning cheeks. You didn’t need to worry. Before you even had it all the way off, Charlie is mouthing at your chest, sucking hickeys into your tits, spreading his hands over them and tugging at your nipples. “You’re so gorgeous…” he mutters under his breath. You curl fingers into his hair and guid him to where you wanted him, which he was happy to oblige. Red, angry marks smatter across your skin as you gently rock back and forth in his lap, his mouth making its way over you again and again, groans reverberating on your skin occasionaly. There would be no way to hide what had happened tomorrow, as he was incredibly through in his work, making his way up your neck once more, peppering kisses behind your ear when you yelped particularly loudly as he grazed the spot with his mouth. Eventually, feeling rather exposed, your hands drift to the hem of his shirt, and he smoothly tugs it off over his head without missing a beat. Fuck. That was hot. Why was that so hot? You push him back at the shoulders, trying to admire him, but he whineds and turns redder the longer you stare, mouth agape at his toned body. His hair is tousled gently now, sticking up in even wilder directions than it was before you made your way inside.

“Fuck. You’re hot,” Your thoughts echo into the room this time.

“Speak for yourself. Can I please keep touching you?” He strains against your hold. You felt his arm muscles flexing, noting just how easily he could break free from you, and noting the fact that he chose not to, before you nod. You settle for running your hands down his sides as he attacked your chest again, admiring his body through feel alone, digging your nails in whenever a particular spot had you writhing in his lap.

He glances up at you several minutes later, eyes slightly widened, cheeks flushed, panting. “Can you… nghh. Can you touch me? Please?” He guides your hand down, and you feel his pulse in his dick. His head falls into your shoulder as you gently palm it, experimenting with a soft squeeze.

You gulp. “I’ve.. I’ve never…” His head raises from your shoulder and cocks to the side, eyes meeting yours. “I don’t know how to make you feel good. I’ve never touched a cock,” As embarassed as you are, breaking eye contact felt wrong, so you maintain his gaze as you admit to him why you’re so visibly nervous now.

A lazy smile spread across his face. “Can I show you?”

[sternenschaukler]

oh, I'm saying this very easily because of a single reason that actually has nothing to do with aroace-misia or ableism: I'm vehemently pro-fiction.

By your logic people shouldn't be allowed to headcanon basically anything, and anyone writing AUs and exploring unusual ideas is a horrible person. Do you also believe that people shouldn't be allowed to write fiction that makes random characters aroace or touch averse? (or for that matter also trans, gay etc) By your logic they're "erasing" the character's true identity that was intended by the author.

No identity is inherently better or worse than another and exploring possibilities by giving a character a different identity/ personality etc does not imply the author hates the original. That's just a bad faith assumption from your side.

An example: Do you believe turning a canon demisexual character into a sex-repulsed aroace is just as disgusting as the other way around? They're both ace-spec identities, and a sex repulsed aroace author deserves to see their identity represented on page just as much as a sex-favourable demisexual.

So no, I don't think it's a problem when someone demisexual reads TMBD, becomes a huge fan, and then thinks something like "What if Murderbot was demisexual like me?" Or if someone sex repulsed with a libido reads TMBD and thinks "What if murderbot was still sex repulsed, but suddenly the body starts wanting things the mind does not? Wouldn't it be amazing to torture it with the same struggles that I am experiencing?"

Who are you to judge other people's stories? And where do you draw the line between what's ok and what should be deleted? Who decides? Censorship is a slippery slope that will always end badly, and eventually things will get censored that you wouldn't have deleted yourself

Also: Me challenging your views doesn't give you the right to insult me like this. But please, hate me on a personal level, I really don't care. Just please do yourself a favour and don't read the stuff that you already know you won't like. It wasn't written for you. And if you can't do that, then leave Ao3/ ff.net or wherever you're reading fics. These spaces were created by pro-fic people like me and you're the intruder.

[ID: Five versions of the Garfield, "Huh. I wonder who that's for". meme, with Garfield the cat standing in front of a poster.

In the first four versions, the poster has been replaced by a simple digital drawing of Murderbot from The Murderbot Diaries books, wearing grey armour with its face hidden behind the helmet's dark faceplate.

Arrows have been drawn, pointing at Garfield and the poster. In the first four versions, the poster is labeled, "The Murderbot Diaries, repeatedly."

The first version has Garfield labeled, "

Ableists, aroacemisics, and abuse apologists in the Murderbot fandom". The poster reads, "Don't ship slaves with their owners.".

In the second version, Garfield is labeled, "Ableists in the Murderbot fandom". The poster reads, "Murderbot is touch-averse. It does not want to be touched.".

The third labels Garfield, "Aroacemisics in the Murderbot fandom", and the poster reads, "Murderbot is aroace and is repulsed by romance and sex. It is viscerally disgusted by the idea of being in any kind of relationship.".

The fourth labels Garfield, "Transmisics in the Murderbot fandom". The poster reads, "Murderbot's pronouns are it/its and the only time it's called anything else is when it's actively being oppressed.".

The last version labels Garfield, "Jackasses in the Murderbot fandom", and the poster no longer shows Murderbot, but instead just has text. The poster has been relabeled, "The literal Entire Point of The Murderbot Diaries", with the words "entire point" underlined for emphasis.

The poster reads, "People who are different from society's norm should not have to conform in order to be treated with respect.

Touch-averse people do not need to be 'fixed'. People who do not want romantic or sexual relationships do not need to be 'fixed'. Autistic people do not need to be 'fixed'. People who are harmlessly different deserve to be treated with respect even if you can't relate to them.".

End ID.]

If you don't do any of the shit this post is talking about, then don't make it about you 🔪 (A knife emoji).

I am once again asking The Murderbot Diaries fandom to actually support the people that Murderbot actually represents:

Those who are touch-averse

Those who are aroace

Those who do not want any kind of relationship

(Yes, that includes QPRs! I know this is a radical concept for allos to grasp, but literally no relationship is required to be happy in life! QPRs are not your free card to ship aroace characters who are repulsed by relationships of all kinds!)

Those who are nonbinary

Those who use it/its pronouns

Those who are autistic

Those who are neurodivergent

The list goes on.

If you force the people who Murderbot actually represents to be the only ones calling out the bigotry in this fandom, you are not making this fandom a safe or welcoming place for us. You cannot claim to love Murderbot and then erase or stand happily by while other erase everything that makes it who it is.

Erasing a character's touch-repulsion, or acting like it's something that can or should be fixed with romance, sex, or a QPR, is ableist as all fucking shit. If you are not touch-repulsed you have no fucking business writing about Murderbot being touched.

Erasing a characters aroace identity to pretend that it's "just" asexual or "just" aromantic depending on how you ship it is aroacemisia as shit. Murderbot is not "just" asexual or "just" aromantic. It is equally viscerally disgusted by both romance and sex. It is viscerally disgusted by the idea of being in a relationship of any kind -- literally including a platonic one. As everyone who has read the 5th book fucking well knows. If you erase Murderbot's aroness or aceness in order to create a flimsy justification for shipping it, you are literally just being an aroacemisia peice of shit.

Yes, even if you're ''shipping it queerplatonically'' when that fucking "queer platonic shipping" involves it being touched and the narrator being horny for it -.-

If you want this fandom to actually be welcoming to the people Murderbot actually represents, then yes, you do, in fucking fact, need to put in the effort of making it hostile to bigots.

You cannot tolerate bigotry and let it go by without comment and then pretend you're a safe person to be around.

This fandom cannot tolerate ableism, transmisia, exorsexism, aroacemisia, and athiktomisia (bigotry against people who are touch-averse) and then pretend that it's a safe space for the kinds of people that Murderbot actually represents.

The Murderbot Diaries actually treats aroace and touch-averse people with respect. The bar is in the fucking ground. There is no fucking excuse for being ableist or aroacemisia by erasing Murderbot's entire personality for the sake of shipping.

If you're tired of seeing my posts calling this shit out, then do fucking better, fandom. All of you are capable of making your own fucking posts condemning bigotry. So fucking do so.

If you don't do any of the shit this post is talking about, then don't fucking make it about you 🔪 (A knife emoji).

[dark-moonlust]

Making snow angels with your vampire mate

Pairing: vampire x f!human reader

Summary: you teach your vampire mate how to make snow angels.

Warnings: no smut, diva vampire, fluff overload, romantic moments, kisses.

Snowflakes fell softly from the sky, blanketing everything in a glittering, layer of white. The mansion behind you was a magnificent and imposing building, decorated by more shining snow. The landscape was peaceful and pretty but all you could see was him. Your mate was a sight amidst the snow, a tall, gorgeous vampire in a long dark coat.

You had brought him out here, eager to teach him the simple delight of making angels in the soft, fluffy snow. Your vampire mate had no idea snow could be pleasant and his attitude as he stood there staring at you, confused, told you he was still not convinced. You tightened your scarf over your neck, the cold air biting at your flesh. Unlike him, who was only wearing a light shirt and jeans, you were wrapped up like a burrito, with layers upon layers of clothing.

“You can't tell me you've lived for hundreds of years without making a snow angel! Now watch me, love!”

And with that, you flopped backward onto the fluffy snow with no hesitation. He widened his eyes at your fall but when the sound of your laughter bubbled up, he relaxed. He watched as you spread your arms and legs wide, moving them up and down through the snow, your melodic laughter ringing out in the quiet air.

“That’s it?” he asked, standing there, proud and supremely comfortable despite the biting cold. “It’s looks… undignified.”

You chortled. “Get down here, you diva. What’s the matter—afraid of a little snow?”

“Afraid?" He looked at his brand-new shirt as if debating whether he was truly willing to risk it for this. "Hardly."

"Don't make me tackle you down here myself," you joked, smiling up at him as you continued to move your arms, deliberately throwing small sprays of snow in his correction.

“You are a little devil,” he laughed before ultimately lowering himself next to you, lying flat on his back in the snow. He gave you a soft glance before moving his arms and legs, his movements rigid and extremely precise.

"Not like this!" you said, poking him with your boot. "Just relax… go with the flow and have fun!"

A low huff and he let go, his movements becoming looser and soon he was laughing alongside you, the two of you flailing around in the snow like children. His crimson eyes danced with liveliness, his sharp, chiseled face softened by a pure joyful smile that you rarely saw.

"See? I told you it’s fun!" you said when your snow angel was formed on the ground.

He glanced at you, grinning. “Never thought I’d have such fun making a snow angel. Do you know any more snow games?”

"Games hmm..." your hand leapt out, seizing a handful of snow and you flung it at him, flakes landing right on his face, dusting his perfect hair. “Gotcha!” you called out, scrambling on your feet and leaping away, seeking shelter.

“Oh, you're asking for it now," he said, taking a handful of snow and flinging it back at you— supremely gently. He had so much more strength than you, he didn’t want to hurt you.

“What was that fart of a move?” you found yourself laughing harder than you had in years.

“Can’t risk hurting you, babe!”

“You’re too much of a gentleman! And, I’m going to take advantage of it.”

You flung a couple more snowballs at him, but he dodged them all with ease, his motions smooth and fast. Just as you were going to aim again, he moved in a single, lethal motion, closing the gap between you. He held you in his arms, your chest pressed tightly against his own. A soft smile came across your lips and without thinking, you slipped your hands around his large shoulders, drawing him closer. His face was so near that you could see every beautiful curve of his jaw, every flawless line of his skin, every detail in his eyes.

“You’re my precious mate,” he said. “My warm sunshine in my heart.”

Head tilting, he claimed your mouth, his lips icy at first but warming with each caress, with each wet brush. You moaned, your fingers running through his smooth, black hair. You parted your lips, reveled in the touch of his tongue which danced with yours with a hunger that left you breathless. The kiss deepened, it was as if he was tasting you and taking your very soul.

Snow fell around you, glistening in the moonlight, but you didn’t care.

The kiss was alive and only when you were out of breath did you draw back.

"You have no idea how happy you make me," he murmured as he pressed tiny kisses on your cheek. “Giving me reasons to smile when I had none.”

"And you have no idea how loved you make me feel," you answered.

The world faded away when he kissed you again, his lips moving thoroughly, his tongue thrusting deep. The snow, the stars, the mansion—they all faded from your mind, leaving only his touch, his kisses, his love.

Did you enjoy?! Let me know what you think, loves! Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

[r-aindr0p]

If you don’t mind me asking, what brushes do you use when drawing?

Alright, I draw on procreate and since I have no idea how to download free brushes I use the basic ones ! Sorry if some of the names are in french but really I only use the basic brushes :')

(Don't mind the pure vanilla cookie too much I doodled him out of memory to explain the brushes+ process hhdjdjs))

Textured pencil brush for the sketch + lineart

Very basic brush for coloring, this one is the least textured and easiest to use with the bucket/autofill

Basic airbrush to add gradients

And that brush for highlights because the pen pressure/brush size ratio is very nice and it's smooth and nice :) (sometimes I use it for lineart but extremely rarely)

And finally when once in a blue moon I decide to plan ahead what colors I will use everywhere I use this "flat brush" and just idk.. add color ??

And for shadows I use a mix of "syrup" and the basic airbrush usually ! (and the multiply filter works it's magic as well)

[coffeecat1983]

Super Paper Mario AU for @dreamyluigi

Pt 1 here

Pt 2: Warning for self harm, blood, character death.

   "He's wanted this." L cackled. "You think you're a good brother, that you support him, but you've no idea how he screams inside." His eyes shifted back to solid grey. He stared at Mario as he raised the dagger.      "He's begging for it all to stop. Has been begging, even before I took over. Maybe I should oblige him." he swayed again, arm out. "How should I do this? Wrists?" he pressed the blade's tip to the tender skin, drawing a prick of blood. "No, too slow. The throat?" Mario's stomach lurched, the dagger gliding past Luigi's neck before lowering. "No. A dramatic's way of going out. I should make this more simple. Show him what a knife to the chest really feels like."    His face shifted, one eye turned blue as two voices spoke and Luigi stood. "I'm so tired of being alone."      "NO!" Mario couldn't move, couldn't breathe as he saw the blade seek shelter in a blanket of flesh and bone. The figure swayed more as blood began to pour out, a crimson river that quickly pooled around his feet. His hand fell away from the blade and he looked up at Mario.      "Heh, I, I didn't think it would hurt so much." he uttered.    Diving forward Mario caught him as he fell. "Weege!" he choked out, tears falling faster. Tippi was silent, floating nearby as she watched it all unfold. Mario's hands shook as he pulled his little brother close and stroked his cheek. Eyes fluttered open, bright sapphires matching his own returned his gaze.      "M-Mario?" Luigi had grown pale, his voice soft. "W-Was, was havin' a bad dream. Kept, kept tryin' ta talk to you." he shivered, his head resting against Mario's chest. "So-Somebody kept talkin' over me. Din't, din't like him." he mumbled, eyes closing again.      "Weege." Mario sobbed out. "Luigi, stay with me, please!"      "S's cold. Mar'o, can we go home?" Luigi cringed, trying to hide his face against his brother. Fingers weakly gripped at his overalls."S's so cold here."    Mario trembled with another sob. "Y-Yeah, yeah Weege, we can go home. Just please, stay with me!"    A faint sigh, a breath that took with it the final heartbeat.

A month later...    Whispers could be heard throughout the early morning air of the marketplace. Toads murmured to one another once the hero of the Mushroom Kingdom was out of earshot.      "Whadda ya think happened?" one customer commented. "He looks so, so haunted."      "Beats me." the stall owner replied. "You're right though, poor guy looks like he watched the world end."      "I'll tell you this," a third chimed in. "Don't ever say anything bad about his little brother when Mario's around. Someone said something the other day and I thought Mario was gonna kill em just from the look alone! I don't know what he's been through, but it must've been serious." All three watched the man in red as he continued on his way.    Following the path to the little mushroom house, Mario unlocked the door and quietly went in. Soft footsteps on the stairs made him look up, a smile of genuine warmth making his eyes sparkle.      "Hi big bro!" Luigi greeted him, cheerfully taking the bag with the groceries from his hands.      "Hey Weege." Mario returned the greeting and followed him to the kitchen. "You feelin' okay?"    Luigi nodded as he began putting the food away. "Yeah, donno why I'm getting that weird pain in my chest but hey, the doc says I'm fine and it's no biggie." he tilted his head. "How 'bout you? You been getting up early a lot lately."    Mario rubbed at the back of his neck, the nightmares he'd been having briefly darting through his mind. "Y-Yeah, I'm okay." he went to the cupboard and pulling out two mugs, held one up. "Tea?"     "Sure."    As Mario filled the kettle, he glanced over his shoulder. "Hey Weege, I was thinkin'."      "Yeah?"      "Next time something happens, I want you to come with."      "R-Really?" There it was. That nervousness, that hint of 'don't leave me'. How had he never heard it before? Swallowing the knot in his throat, Mario nodded.      "Yeah, I mean, we are the Mario brothers. Can't have the super team without you."    He nearly dropped the teabag as Luigi grabbed him in a hug. Releasing his big brother, Luigi returned to his seat. His pajama top, unbuttoned from his own restless slumber, had fallen away to reveal the faded mark over his heart.

   A mark that Mario blamed himself for, for the rest of his life.

END By "CC"

[the-ellia-west]

oh

Oh

OH

OH DAYUM

Uhhhhh..... Shoot... Hi guys!

Thank You so much for this OMW!

I don't really think I deserve this, and because I don't have any ideas for a milestone think, I'll uh... Just remind you all that my Asks are open to QNAs for All WIPs and about myself!

Chomik, Fallen, JoR, and NH!

You can adress the characters and I'll answer in Character, or you can adress me and I'll answer for them or just about the WIP!

I also think I'm going to spiff up my blog as a thank you! If I can get it to look similar enough, I'll snatch the remaster of my profile pic Pastel made, and Make a color theme for myself, an intro post, and I'll clear out my JoR sideblog for potential later use (I could definitely use some suggestions on what to use it for)

I also did not know that its current profile picture is ai... so I'll change that too!

I'll start using more tags, maybe post a little bit about myself and my life if y'all are interested in that, lean more into using my sona, draw more, and maybe let myself drown in my hyperfixations a little bit more!

I could really use some help making a scheddule

THANK YOU ALL AGAIN FOR 600, GOOD TOASTER STRUDEL I NEVER THOUGHT I WOULD BE FAMOUS????

@thewritingautisticat @yolbert @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @ambersky0319 @lunaeuphternal

@an-indecisive-nerd @homelessnerd @thebookishkiwi @write-with-will

@hihopelessromantics @pastellbg @i-do-anything-but-write @darkandstormydolls

@supercimi @blargh-500 @sunflowerrosy @corinneglass @carb0n-m0n0xid3

@tiredpapergirl @whatwewrotepodcast @vesanal

[midnight-mourning]

300 Followers Special!

AGH IT HAPPENED AGAIN

was legit just checking through my blog and realized but at least i caught it in time!!

Thank you all so much! For this and for all the support everyone gives on the silly things I make. I know the last like, several months of this blog have been chaos (from posting often to nothing while I was sick to semi-daily in December etc. etc.) so I appreciate everyone sticking with me through it all very much <333

I'll admit there's.... a LOT going on right now (looks at my wips and at my research to-do list) BUT, i don't mind adding something to the list! It just might take a bit of time to get to it lol

Pulling from the 100 follower milestone celebration ideas that didn't get picked, as well as a few other things I came up with, will do the top two if results are close :D

BUT feel free to pick the 'other' option if you have soemthing else you'd like to see! I will do whatever since this is me saying thanks ^^

Little bit of info on each thing below the cut, excited to see what you pick!

Q&A/Ask the Cast: a classic, I know my ask box is open but here's also a clear chance to ask something that you've been really curious about! I won't share spoilers for the story, but everything else is on the table, including stuff about me, writing etc. Just no super personal questions is all! Additionally, you can ask the cast questions and answers will be in character, perhaps with a little doodle as well ^-^

Writing Requests: same as all the other request things I've done, same rules apply (no nsfw, suggestive is fine, be specific if you want specific) and will be about 500-1000 words each

Doodle requests: I provide you with a little drawing I made with tender love and care (would be lined, colored, shaded, etc.)

A peek into the drafts: I do in fact have a couple other fic ideas floating around in my brain that I simply haven't started so that I don't get bogged down/focus on CS. I would share those and a little bit of concept art

AU Oneshot/Continuation: I take a oneshot I've written and add MORE to it in some way, anything that I've written is up for grabs (besides my multi-chap stories ofc) This includes my Promptober responses, DCA December, 'Secret' gifts I've done, and any other drabbles or such. Examples of times I've already done this would include Holiday Spirit (continuation of DCA December Day 7), and Restart (continuation of Promptober Day 29)

DIY the DCA: silly idea I've thought about where using my knowledge as an MechE I determine the costs of materials, equipment, etc. for what it would take to build the daycare attendant yourself, would it be completely accurate? probably not I am not an expert, would it be fun? yeah I fuckin love deep-diving on mcmastercarr for shit

Chekov's Gun Analysis Post: i explain and go line by line about ch. 15 of Confused Spirit and explain all the little callbacks, hints, etc., why i love it so much, and so on

Other: explained above, don't be shy to tell me if none of these sound interesting! Won't hurt my feelings :)

[sorinethemastermind]

Reunion

In which Harrow sees his sons again. [because @lunanightriderofthecove wanted a sequel to this one where Harrow sees his sons again and I thought that was a splendid idea. Happy Birdthday to the King of Katolis!]

Harrow cocked his head, glancing up at Opeli above him, adjusting his perch on her arm. He ruffled his feathers and let out a small coo, drawing her attention. She looked at him with an expression someplace between confusion and pi-

Oh, was that a bug?

Harrow lifted off from her arm, surroundings temporarily forgotten, and soared through the great double doors Soren had just opened to land on the red carpeted floor. He hurried forward, jabbing at the ground with his beak until he'd managed to skewer the cricket.

A loud thump came from behind him and he jumped, images of Viren and cage doors slamming flashing through his mind. He took to the skies again, except the sky had been replaced by a marble ceiling, cloudless and white. He squawked, panicking filling for a moment before-

"Dad?"

The voice snapped him back into his own mind again and he settled on a nearby table, turning to search for it's source. There was a throne at the end off the great hall, familiar though the wood was now scorched and blackened. And seated in it was...

He flew forward, wings flapping frantically. He looked so different, so much older. But Harrow would have known that face anywhere. It didn't matter how long he hadn't been himself, it was his son. He lighted on the arm of the throne, staring up into Ezran's big blue eyes as they filled with tears.

He was certainly older, and not just physically. Harrow could see the crown - silver in place of gold, but still just as heavy - sitting on his brow. The lines under his eyes that no child should have. Except he was no longer a child, was he? A teenager?

Harrow experienced the strange sensation of knowing that he was crying without the capacity to cry. The same feeling but none of the affects. He took a tentative step forward, talons hooking into the wood as he leaned as close as he could. He reached out, brushing his hand against Ezran's outstretched hand. He cooed, knowing his words didn't matter but wanting to say them anyway.

Except Ezran smiled through the tears, a small laugh forming in the back of his throat, "Yeah, I'm okay. I missed you, too."

Harrow stared up at him, then leapt forward into his lap, gazing up into his eyes as he began twittering again.

Ezran wrapping both hands gently around him, thumb gently stroking his feathers. But Harrow knew the touch for what it was. A hold, tight, but not constricting. As though he was afraid he'd slip through his fingers at any moment.

"Yes, he's okay, too." Ezran glanced across the room for a moment, "Soren, will you go and get Callum? And Rayla, too."

"You got it!"

Harrow turned to watch the Crownguard spin on his heel and hurry from the room, Opeli right on his heels. He had grown so much, too. But not just that, he had also changed. So much had changed. And he had missed all of it.

Harrow turned back to his son, cooing another question.

Ezran smiled, tears still spilling silently down his cheeks, "You'll like Rayla. She's Callum's girlfriend."

Harrow twittered and watched Ezran's face fall. He hopped closer, cocking his head to the side worriedly.

"Yeah I... I guess he did finally get over her. There's a lot to tell you, Dad. I don't really know where to start."

The beginning, Harrow prompted. He would have been happy to listen to Ezran talk about anything for hours, anything at all.

His son took a deep breath, but instead of answering his questions, he asked one of his own, "Did Lord Viren do this to you?"

Harrow's eyes narrowed and he dipped his head, squawking a frustrated confirmation. When he got his han- talons on that traitorous mage he would-

"He's dead," Ezran told him, gently.

Harrow stopped his squawking, staring up at him. A wave of emotion crashed over him, confusing and unexpected. Surely not... sadness. Not after everything Viren had done?

"I'll explain everything once Callum is here," Ezran assured him. Then he added; "I'm so glad you're back, Dad."

Harrow cooed in agreement, rubbing his head against Ezran's hand once again. Just then the doors flew open behind them and he turned to find Callum standing in the doorway, taller and wearing-

Wearing the robes of the High Mage's office, a white streak through his hair.

An image of Viren, not much older than his son must now be, standing in a similar outfit and a similar castle flashed before his eyes.

But then Callum took a hesitant step forward, gait breaking into a run, and the image was forgotten.

"Dad!" he cried, dropping to his knees before the throne to throw his arms around Harrow, who stepped forward into his son's embrace. He cooed softly, nuzzling Callum's cheek with his head.

"He says he's glad you're okay, and that he loves you very much," Ezran supplied.

Callum pulled away after a moment, staring down at him with wide eyes. "We're going to get you out of there," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I know a spell that will fix all of this."

Harrow stared up at him, once again the image of Viren flashing over his son's face. He looked away, gaze wandering over the room to land on-

The assassins. They had found him. Somehow they were here.

Harrow launched himself into the air, squawking furiously as he tried to draw Callum and Ezran's attention. The elf, who had previously been skulking in the doorway, flinched back. He saw Soren reach out towards her and for a moment felt reassured, but the Crownguard merely patted her on the shoulder before pushing her gently into the room. Of course. Why had he trusted Viren's son?

Except then Callum turned, eyes lighting up at the sight of her, and beckoned her forward as well. She walked hesitantly to his side and his son straightened up, tucking an arm around her waist. Harrow stopped cawing and lighted back on the arm of the throne, wings spread protectively before Ezran.

"Dad, this is Rayla. My girlfriend," Callum said. The elf gave a small wave.

"We're at peace now, with the elves," Ezran said from behind him and Harrow turned to look at him. "Didn't Soren tell you?"

An image of a green haired elf surfaced from his memory, hand outstretched and full of berries. Harrow lowered his wings, cooing softly with embarrassment. He remembered, now, Soren introducing him. And- and there had been another person there, too. Not one of Viren's children. Corvin? Corvus! He had been there as well, working alongside the elf with comfortable familiarity.

Harrow dipped his head beneath his wing. It was becoming harder and harder to connect the dots. To hold onto the pieces of himself that weren't as close to his heart. He could feel things slipping away from him, things he knew he should know and remember. But the image of his sons had always remained clear in his mind, an anchor holding him together at his center, keeping all the drifting pieces together. Or as together as they could be.

"It's okay," Ezran reached out and stroked his head, seeming to sense his worry. "Callum is going to get you back."

Harrow looked up at his sons, glancing between them. Ezran gave him a watery eyed smile and Callum knelt back down to reach out and hold him again. The three of them reunited at last.

Whatever had happened over the years he'd been gone, however much they had grown and changed, these were his sons. And so long as he held onto that knowledge, he knew nothing else mattered.

[azurem]

(Warning for lots of yapping)

Would married inkmare have a wedding anniversary that they celebrate ? Or a dating anniversary for non-married!inkmare ?

My hc is that the first couple of years (if they make it that far) ink writes the date in his scarf but forgets about it until the day of/the day before. Nm plans ahead and makes it super romantic and evil. But with time they kinda stop being extra (nm has a hard time with that) and they meet up for a cuddling session with extra kisses.

For gifts, my hc is that that Ink ’’buys’’ a human made gift from an au, stores it in the doodlesphere, forgets that he already got a gift, gets another gift and stashes it. After a couple of months there’s a small pile collecting dust. The day of the date he apologizes to nm that he didn’t get him a gift (he did, he forgor) :( and the next day he pops into the castle and leaves a mysterious pile of gifts. (This happened at least twice). The other sans(es) don’t hesitate to steal two or three things >:). With time he has an easier time remembering and the pile isn’t as impressive.

Nm knows that his partner is going to/might forget about their anniversary, so he plans ahead and makes it really romantic. Like, over the top fancy and classy dark academia royal themed date. He mostly does it for himself because he loves being classy and dramatic and extra. He writes poems and plays music on his record player (that ink gifted him). For gifts, nm gives… actually I’m not sure what he could gift someone that can draw anything into existence ? Idk I can’t think of anything he could give him. Maybe he’d write him something extra extra romantic ?

Last thing is they ignore the 3 kisses per day quota, just for a day !

I have so many other things to add honestly I hate them sm >:(

I think celebrating anniversaries is kinda hard for them because time passes weirdly in the multiverse. I think Nightmare would try to keep track of the date™ (by snooping around in a "twin" of the branch of Outertale where they married and trying to figure out what day it was). Dating anniversary is. Hm. Hard?? I don't think they have a date where they officially started dating, but they def would celebrate the date of their ultimate truce™ instead hmmm

My headcanon aligns very closely with yours I see......! I like the idea that Ink would try to make the effort but legit forget that he already did DKJDKD Nightmare just overall carrying the romance™ is very much in character for my version of him, too...!

I think Ink would prefer acts of service rather than gifts, but he'd appreciate art materials all the same. Underfell merch too/silly. I think it'd be funny if Nightmare tried to compose him a little tune every time. He gets pretty smug whenever he hears ink humming it to himself hmmmm

Yea, yea. I think they invent the concept of negative kisses just for the special occasions™. Or maybe they keep track of days where they haven't seen each other and "recover" the kisses that couldn't be given???? Evil stuff id say