#i was trying to find interesting photo references but found none

[kwyoz]

late night wwx sketches.

[starry-eyes-love]

Hollywood Story

Masterlist

Pairing | Dieter Bravo X Curvy F!Reader (nicknamed ‘pretty little girlfriend’)

Summary | You wake up to find the Hollywood News article plastered all over the internet of Dieter kissing his co-star, Amy, while on set for the filming of his recent movie. At first, you find the article funny until you start reading the comments and see another article calling you a fat cow. Dieter puts these false rumors to rest once and for all with a funny live Instagram talk.

Note: For the text messages: bold with italic text is from Dieter, just italic text is from you, and bold and red colored text is from his agent, Kat.

A/N:  We all saw the photo that is making a lot of us feral with that kiss.  I wanted to have a funny little story that went with this.  For some reason, this screams Dieter at me in my mind.  

A huge thanks to my good friend from CAImages on Instagram for pulling this photo together at the last minute for me.  Enjoy :) 

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Warnings | 18+, language

References to body image issues for F!reader (no descriptions except that she is curvy), reference to a cast made of Dieter’s crotch, mentions of previous phone sex (but no details given besides that), Dieter being Dieter.

Word Count: 3.4K

You guys are too nice saying I’m sexy.  Who knew that the belly was sexy, huh? But you know what, you all want to fuck me and the belly, but yet none of you can say one nice fucking thing to my pretty little girlfriend.  I’ve spent all morning reading everyone’s comments online, saying how she isn’t attractive because she has curves. Fuck. You know I love those curves; they feel so good. I love making love to the woman who has those sexy curves.  So, if I’m sexy with this belly, then she can be sexy with her curves too, you know.”

When you pulled up the app to read your morning digital copy of the newspaper, the image popped up on your home screen.  The headline read, “Dieter ends long-term relationship with girlfriend for another woman.”  You usually never cared about those articles, especially when your longtime boyfriend of 5 years was working on a movie set.  You knew that Dieter was in the process of filming a romantic love comedy, and you knew there were kissing scenes.  But this headline piqued your interest, so you clicked on it to read further.

“Sources say that these two co-stars had connected during the filming of the latest romantic movie, titled “I Want You, which stars Dieter, as a lawyer who just moved to New York City and found love with the daughter of the man he is trying to put in jail. People have spotted these two co-stars snuggling up together and having private moments late into the night after filming has wrapped. Recently, reporters caught a private moment of these two as Dieter’s co-star walked him to his car after a long day of filming. Before leaving, reporters captured a long and tender kiss that co-star Amy had given Dieter before he left.  Hollywood wonders if this is it for Dieter and his long-time girlfriend. Sources closest to Dieter say that his current relationship with his girlfriend is over with and that he is moving on, citing the reason for the split was infidelity accusations, among other things.” 

You had to laugh at the tabloid article, considering that last night, you had some of the best phone sex with your boyfriend.  You were moaning his name as you fucked yourself with a dildo that he bought you before he left to go and film this movie.  It was a cast of his hardened cock, a present for his pretty little girlfriend who missed her man dearly on these long movie shooting times when he was away from home.

Pulling up your phone's message app, you sent your boyfriend a copy of the article and some accompanying sass.

Dieter had been lying in bed, dozing on and off this morning.  He had a late call back last night and had to shoot some nighttime scenes.  So after his long day and some nice phone sex with his pretty little girlfriend, he had to go back to work and shoot for another 3 hours.  Yesterday was a 15-hour workday, and he was exhausted.  The studio gave him a day off, saying he could rest up as the following scenes didn’t involve him. 

When Dieter heard the ding of his message app, and then another one, he figured he needed to check to make sure it wasn’t the studio telling him that they had changed their mind and that he’d still have to come in today.  When he pulled up his messages, he saw two were from you.  He stretched and sat up in bed, grabbing his glasses off the nightstand and placing them on his face so he could read what you sent.

So apparently, according to the tabloids, you are cheating on me, and our relationship is over.  By the way, it was a lovely kiss. I'm somewhat jealous that those lips on you weren’t mine.

“What the?” Dieter mumbled to himself at your message.  He clicked the link to the article and saw the picture of the kiss, of a moment playing out during a scene.  It wasn’t unheard of for paparazzi to snap photos of scenes filmed outside, especially along the roadway like yesterday. He glanced down the page and saw the quick article about the photo. As he read through the article, he cursed under his breath at the fact that the tabloids would print something so false.  He quickly typed out a reply to you and then got up and headed to the bathroom to take a piss. He needed to call his new publicist and give him a piece of his mind. He was paying good money to ensure articles like this would not appear in Hollywood, and if they did, he’d know about it ahead of time. So why did this get through without his knowledge? It blew his mind and angered him immensely.

You were slowly sipping your morning coffee, waiting to see what your boyfriend had to say. When you heard the ding of your message app, followed by a few more, you knew he had thoroughly read it.

Jesus

How do people even come up with this shit?

I need to fire my publicist.

No, you don’t need to fire your new publicist.

Are the allegations true?

What?  NO! 

Absolutely not, baby!

I'm just checking because, you know, apparently, infidelity accusations have happened, and I’m not giving you everything you need or something.

Another article cites that I have more curves, and that’s why you did it because I’m not skinny.

Stop! 

That’s not true, and you fucking know it.

I love your curves, baby, and I love you.

It’s just assholes thinking that they know what’s going on but don’t.

Yeah, well, I guess.

You guess? What the fuck do you mean, you guess?

Baby, that was a scene from the movie I’m shooting, a scene.

Not. The. Real. Thing

Ok, if you say so.

What, what the hell- look, I’m not even relaxed like when I kiss you.

Plus, my tongue ain’t even down her fucking throat like it is with you, baby.

I know; it’s just a lot right now. And everyone keeps asking me if the rumors are true. 

Fuck. The longer that Dieter looked online, the more he saw that it was a fucking nightmare.  People accused him of kissing his co-star, Amy, on his off times. One article even claimed that someone saw him fucking her in the ally, which was not even true.  He had to make them stop, not because they were true.  None of them were.  It was just a photo from a movie shoot that he was doing and nothing else.  His co-star was not his type; she was not someone he found attractive in the way he found you attractive.  Sure, Amy was pretty, and she had a beautiful personality, but she was not someone he’d want to be balls deep in, fucking her against the wall like he loved to do with you.  

He was glancing at all the articles, and then he came across one in particular, one that referred to you as a “fat cow,” and that was when he had enough.  He immediately dialed his publicist and gave that son of a bitch a piece of his mind.

Five minutes later, Dieter swore at his publicist, telling him this should never have happened.

“Sam, I don’t give a fuck. I am paying you to stop this shit from happening. Really? Did you stop it? I don’t think you did because I’m looking at an article right now that is referring to my girlfriend as a fat cow.  You better hope she doesn’t read this. Yeah, or you’re fired.”

But as soon as he said it, he heard the ding of a message. His heart sank when he glanced at it, tuning out his publicist's apologizing momentarily and assuring him that everything was fine.  

I can’t come down next week for that event thing anymore. Some stuff, uh, some stuff came up.

Dieter quickly texted you back, hoping that the reason the plans had changed had nothing to do with what you had seen online. 

OK, that’s fine if you don’t want to. Can I ask why there was a sudden change of heart?

I just don’t think me being in a bikini, helping kids, is the best message you want to send people.

Fuck. You must have seen the article.

Baby, why wouldn’t it be the best image?

Come on, honey, talk to me. What’s bothering you?

Nothing is bothering me; it’s just I’m overweight, and I don’t think walking around with a one-piece swimsuit and asking people to help make donations for homeless children is proper.

Baby, how is it not proper? You love that kind of stuff.

It just isn’t okay.  Plus, no one wants to see a fat cow walk around in a bathing suit.  I mean, how can people even print that?  I know I’m a little overweight, but I’m not that much overweight, I think.

Fuck, you did read that article, and it broke his heart to know this.

Look, I just don’t want to do it, ok.

Plus, you could do so much better than me, anyway.

I mean, look at her; she’s beautiful and sexy. What am I?

I’m not attractive, that’s what.  Why did you even ask me out in the first place?

I know cause I was skinny.

Okay, maybe I'm not skinny, but I wasn’t fat.

Okay, yeah, I was fat, but.

One text after another kept coming in as you derailed your self-esteem because of two dumb photos of him kissing his co-star during the middle of a scene for shooting a movie.  

Sam was still talking on the phone, but Dieter was no longer paying attention. He was more concerned about what his pretty little girlfriend was thinking. Dieter was with you because you made him laugh, and you were the love of his life. He had to make this right for you.

“Sam, I’m going to stop you right there. I’ll make this simple for you. You’re fucking fired.”  Dieter then hung up the phone and immediately texted his agent, a woman that scared the living shit out of him because she never took any shit from anyone in the world. Dieter doesn’t remember what her real name is; he’s always called her Kat because she’d claw his eyes out more than once if she had the chance with all of the shit he used to pull before meeting you.

Kat, I fired Sam, he’s a fucking idiot anyways. Please tell me you can stop this fucking shitstorm online. 

For once, remember that I DID NOTHING to start this one.

Kat had gotten back to him almost immediately, helping in the best way that Kat knew how to, taking control of the situation.

Well, Dieter, that didn’t take you long, did it? Just for the record, I fired him this morning before you called him. You were right; he was an idiot. 

I’m already taking care of the shitstorm in the media; the director is fucking furious at the accusations that came forward and is setting the record straight.  I’ll also have the production company make an official statement.

What about the article that called her a fat cow, what about that?

Seriously? Did they- oh, for fucks sake, I’ll take care of it.  I know the editor. I’ll just call him up and threaten to beat the shit out of him for publishing something like that.

Really? You’re going to beat the shit out of someone that isn’t me? Wow, talk about going soft.

Oh, don’t start, Dieter. I can still kick your ass, too.  And I may do it yet today.

But don’t worry, I’ll take care of it, but you’ll have to do damage control on the backside.   

Me? How the hell am I supposed to do that?

It’s called doing damage control with your girlfriend, Dieter. 

I’m sorry for her. No woman or person deserves that horrible humiliation. Take care of her; she’s going to need some reassurance.

Dieter looked at Kat’s last message and couldn’t agree more.  But he didn’t know what he could do to help calm your nerves. As he sat there thinking, he devised an idea that he thought would work. It should take some heat off you and even the playing field.

Dieter pulled his phone out, clicked on the Instagram app, then hit the live button.

You had been drowning in your mind at all the negative comments about your weight, about how people couldn’t believe someone like Dieter would ever be with you, etc. You had spent all morning immersing yourself in these articles and comments, working yourself up into a horrible frenzy of anxiousness and despair.  

You were curled up on the couch, attempting to watch your favorite TV program, missing Dieter, when you heard the ding at the live notification of your Instagram.  The only person you followed like that was Dieter, so you were surprised that he was going live, especially on a day like today.  You quickly pulled out your phone and hit the notification so you could watch and see what was happening.  Dieter already had over 5,000 people watching. So you knew you could hide and not say anything just to see what was happening.

“Hi, it’s me, Dieter…right. Listen. I’m sorry, I’m trying not to care, but it’s hard. It’s hard to see negative comments about the person I love, people calling her unattractive because she doesn’t have a flat stomach like my co-star does.  But you know what, I don’t have a flat stomach either.”

Dieter then stood up, removed his T-shirt and sweatpants, and sat in his boxers, his belly slightly hanging over them.

“So, do you guys want to have sex with me like this?”

After Dieter watched the notifications in the chat coming in of Yes in one way or another, he knew he had the audience right where he wanted them.

“Yeah, I know. Thanks, and wow. You guys are too nice saying I’m sexy.  Who knew that the belly was sexy, huh? But you know what, you all want to fuck me and the belly, but yet none of you can say one nice fucking thing to my pretty little girlfriend.  I’ve spent all morning reading everyone’s comments online, saying how she isn’t attractive because she has curves. Fuck. You know I love those curves; they feel so good. I love making love to the woman who has those sexy curves.  So, if I’m sexy with this belly, then she can be sexy with her curves too, you know.”

“I eat a KitKat every day, either from my mini bar or home. And then, in the morning, there’s always a new KitKat cause my girl knows I love them. And you know what, you don’t know me.  Nobody knows me, the real me, and that’s okay. But my girl, she does; she knows me for the real me, not the Hollywood me.  Like, after we have sex, I always ask her, ‘How do I know in the morning you’re not gonna sell the stuff I unloaded in you to the sperm bank?’ I think about stuff like that when I’m with her, and I tell her.”

“We also have conversations like what happens if your shit, like your literal shit, was alive. That scares me sometimes late at night, and I talk with my girlfriend about it. I go, ‘So, you know when I shit, I don’t watch myself shit. You should never watch yourself shit.  You should just wipe, flush, and then move on.’ We have conversations like that. And then when I have diarrhea and vomiting from food poisoning, I yell for her to hold my hair back because I don’t want the chance of getting vomit in my hair, even if it’s short.”

As you sat back, you watched your boyfriend talk crazy, like you do sometimes late at night. You knew that Dieter never said these things out loud except with you. You didn’t judge him, but the world isn’t always easy on everyone.

“Why do I say these crazy things? Well, if you’re going to judge the most beautiful woman in the world, and she IS the most beautiful woman to me, then you’ll see who I am without the mask of fame. She sees me for the real me and loves me for it. So, if you still love me and all of this crazy shit I do in life, then love her too, cause if you don’t, I won’t be making movies any longer.  I never want to read statements of me cheating on a woman that I’ve had to pinch myself every day in the balls to make sure that I’m not dreaming.  She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and if you guys can’t realize that, then I’m done making movies.  So yeah, goodbye, I guess, until you all fix this issue and stop shaming women or men who don’t fit a perfect image. And stop writing false stories, or this will be the last story you all write of me because I sure as hell won't keep fucking going if all I read are lies about me anymore. I love you all, but seriously, goodbye until you straighten out.”

You then heard him fart on camera and then ended the live right after that. You sat there with tears at how he publicly defended you, even though you never asked him to.  You quickly called him up to thank him.

“You know you didn’t have to say anything, D.”

“I know, but I did. I also thought that I saw you online watching.”  Dieter’s voice echoed like he was in a cave or a large room.

“Where are you? Your voice is echoing.”

“Bathroom,” was all he said, and then you heard it, a fart that echoed.

“Dieter, what-”

“Look, I haven’t taken my morning shit yet, babe.  I’ve had to deal with all this bullshit first, and I can’t hold it anymore, so yeah.”

“It's okay, D, you know I love you. Look, I'll let you go and-”

“No, babe, talk to me. I have nothing else I'm doing while sitting here. You feel a little better?”

“Yeah, a little bit. I mean, you didn't have to say those things about quitting and potentially fuck up your career.”

“Baby, I didn't fuck up my career. And even if I did, I don't care. I love you, and your happiness is just as important to me, if not more, than my career. I care about you, and I’m pissed off that people would say those horrible things about you, the most beautiful woman in my life. My pretty little girlfriend, I love you.”

The two of you talked for an hour until the production company called. They told Dieter that they were postponing shooting more scenes for a few more days until they could figure out the logistics of keeping privacy for more intimate shoots in the future. 

That was fine because it allowed Dieter to fly home to you for a few days. All was peaceful until Dieter got a message from the production company a few days later stating that scenes would begin shooting again next week. As Dieter was packing back up to leave, he received a message from his agent, Kat.

Dieter, you jackass, that’s not what I meant by damage control. You know what, fine, do it your way.  But don’t cry when the little stunt you pulled online results in you getting fired or not being offered any more movie roles.  

Dieter knew that Kat was blowing steam because he had received three tentative movie offers for comedic roles since his online speech.  When he asked Kat what she thought, she was honest with him.

Dieter, you know you can just go fuck yourself, right?

And for what it’s worth, I’m happy you made your girlfriend feel better. You really are a great guy.

To HER, that is.  Now start making my job a little easier, not harder, or so help me, God, I’ll rip your head clean off.  And I'm not talking about the one on the top of your neck. Lord knows you don't need that head anymore cause you don’t ever think with it. I'm talking about the other one.

Dieter laughed hard and knew Kat’s threats were just that, threats.  She has saved his ass more times than he cared to admit.  Yes, this stunt he pulled could have been a huge problem, but he didn’t care.  He’s weathered those harsh storms of his career in the past.  That’s why he paid Kat the big bucks, to help him get out of those shit storms.  But this stunt was for you, to get the negative attention off you. And to make you laugh more, which is what he did in the end.  The only thing that mattered to Dieter was that his pretty little girlfriend was safe, warm, and happy.  Everything in Hollywood was always so fake, except for you and the love that Dieter had for you, that wasn't fake. Dieter loved you more than anything: real, soulmate-type, passionate love. And to him, that was the only story ever worth writing about. 

[queer-codedhero]

Tips to Support an Autistic Little!! 🧸🍼

as an caregiver of a little with autism and hyper sensitivity here are some things I have learned to support them for anyone who maybe a new caregiver or just want tips for your autistic baby 💕☁️

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Always remember your littles special interests! My little has a special interest of snakes! I love to buy them snake stuffies in order to make them happy and encourage them. I also send photos of snakes when saying hi or the help them be happy during hard times. If your little has a special interest to a TV show I recommend watching it (or some of it) in order to make references or do impressions of the characters. I attempt to remember facts about their interests. If they know them I can get excited to hear them talk about their favorite snakes! I recommend trying to understand their interest in order to support their interests 💕🐍

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

2. A lot of autistic littles may not enjoy dress up like other littles! Always try to find clothes they feel comfortable in. My little doesn’t like clothes with multiple textures and loves pjs! I always ask if they’d prefer to change into a onesie rather than their day outfit even if they like it. I also cut off the tags on my littles clothes to insure that it doesn’t bother her skin. After bathes I recommend asking your little if they’d like you to warm up their towel and clothes so they are warm a safe putting them on 🎀💕

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

3. when you go out in public a little may feel nervous and not like noises. Remember their brain feels small and they’re a lot of stimulation. Many littles love theme parks like Disney but autistic littles may find big places more stressful than fun. I have found that littles love going on adventures away from the noise and stress! Always offer your little to hold your hand if they may feel overwhelmed or are in public areas. Attempt to find quiet alternative to fun activities like a picnic in a flower field rather than a park. Always give your little comfort in knowing if they are over stimulated you are ok with finding something better suited for them.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

4. Encouraging stimming! When your little stims it allows them to regulate their emotions and body. Stimming takes many form and you should always allow your little to stim without fear of judgement. Stims can be verbal, tactile, oral and so much more! Some littles benefit from fidget toys when stimming others jump and flap their hands. Try to recognize the stims that they do when happy vs upset. If a little flaps their arms when playing that is a positive stim however if they flap their arms when someone is loud or yelling that is negative! Unsure they are safe to stim negative and positive but always try to communicate if their are negative stims!

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

5. Littles with autism will likely have self destructive tendencies. Whether they are or are not intentional depend on the little. These behaviors should never be met with aggression or “the silent treatment” punishing a little (or anyone for that matter) is a boarder-line abusive attitude. These behaviors are not “attention seeking” these behaviors are often uncontrollable, scary and painful. When a little tells you or show you any injury from these behaviors, immediately check the severity. Often times you will be able to clean and care for it without a doctor, however in rare cases you will need professional help. If you find that their wound is too deep and is bleeding none stop go to an ER for help. If this is not a case. Comfort the little and don’t pry for information and instead tell them you care for them and that this is scary for you as well. Tell them you are happy they came to you so you can help and encourage them to tell you next time they feel this way. Ask your little if they cleaned it then show them how to clean it. Then bandage or put a bandaid on it. (Unless the cut in moist or bleeding, in this case give it air) Give your little more care until they feel better! Always give them cuddles (if they like) and give them all your care and help. Avoid using words that may trigger them such as self harm or injury. Instead use boo-boo or no-no spot. Also attempt to give your little none dangerous activities to help their need for these repetitive and dangerous activities. Try to find artistic expression such as drawing injuries or cutting paper. If your little finds cutting paper helpful perhaps add red paper underneath. If your little needs a way to feel the same pain you can try ice or rubber band snapping. To represent the feeling of having marks on them they can be offered to draw on themselves with markers. If the act of scratching or biting is uncontrollable, offer them a paci or teether. You can also use bandages to cover the areas they may harm to protect their skin. It may help to hold their hands to avoid scratching when stressed.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

-ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛-

[javiddenkins]

Javid Denkins is not interested in answering questions. 

It's 9:30 in the morning and I'm sitting across from Denkins in a conference room at the AMC Studios offices. Denkins declined to meet anywhere more personal than this beige and glass room, impersonal Muzak buzzing through the speakers, windows overlooking an empty studio lot. There are posters on the wall but none, strangely, for Blow the Man Down, the runaway hit Denkins conceived, writes, and now showruns. 

Blow the Man Down, or BTMD as it's frequently referred to by fans and journalists alike, is a workplace comedy set in the Golden Age of Piracy. This unusual premise would be interesting enough even without the top-tier leads brought on by AMC to play opposing pirate captains Sam Bellamy and Olivier Levasseur—Oscar Issac and John Boyega light up the screen and bring surprising comedy chops to the pirate-filled stage they share with such talents as Michelle Yeoh ("Zheng Yi Sao") and Sam Neill ("Captain Benjamin Hornigold"). 

But beyond that, BTMD seems to be that rare thing in mainstream media: a slow romance between two middle-aged men finding love for the first time. The first—and so far, only—season ends on a cliffhanger, our heroes separated by an ocean but determined to reach one another, and their love story—if it is one—stays unresolved. 

Usually an interview like this—between seasons, after renewal and filming but before advertising—would be the perfect opportunity to delve into the mind behind the magic and attempt to tease out hints about what's to come. 

But Denkins seems determined to ignore Hollywood's traditional playbook. 

Whether this is the standard conference room used for interviewing reluctant showrunners, or if Denkins picked it especially for the purpose, I'll never find out. I've already been waiting half an hour, uncertain if Denkins intends to join me at all. When he does finally arrive, he makes his position clear. 

"I'm only doing this because you agreed to my terms," he says. 

I'd describe what he looked like, if he had a coffee or a snack or a smoker's twitching nerves, if he sounded tired or amused or angry—but I can't. If you see a description here, it's because Denkins decided, for whatever reason, to approve it. Otherwise, sharing my impression of Denkins is off the table, one of many terms and conditions my editorial team and I had to agree to before Denkins would accept this meeting. 

Denkins doesn't want to make my job easy. Photos of him do exist from the few red carpets he's attended; enthusiastic interviews with the cast, writers, and production team of BTMD definitely paint a picture that belies Denkins's apparent efforts to avoid perception. But here and now, in the oppressive air conditioning of the AMC offices, I am contractually obligated to interview a cipher.

If he can be all business, though, then so can I. I hit a button on my phone's recording app, set it down between us, and ask what made him decide to tell the story of an obscure pair of pirates like Sam Bellamy and Olivier Levasseur.

He shrugs. "Why does anyone write anything? This is my job." 

It's not the kind of answer I was expecting. Something must show on my face, because he follows with, "That's unsatisfying, isn't it. No definitive answer."

"It's not what I expected," I hedge.

"What did you want to hear?"

I try to gather my thoughts, but I'm definitely stalling, uncertain that this is what Denkins intends. "I did a little research," I say. "Not as much as I imagine you did, but I found some of Bellamy and Levasseur's history together and, later, apart. Bellamy's ship is the only fully authenticated Golden Age shipwreck in the world, so it makes sense that the wrecking of the Whydah is an important turning point in season one. Levasseur, on the other hand, is best known for the mystery of his encoded treasure map, flung into the crowd at his hanging and only ever partially solved, which you seem to have used as a foundation for the coding and decoding motifs throughout. But for a show that seems determined to discuss the consequences of fame and reputation, it's fascinating that you've chosen two men most casual viewers have never heard of."

"Outside the narrative they built for themselves," Denkins corrects. "Is there a question in there?"

I remember again that Denkins isn't here to make this easy for me. "Why not choose one of the more well-known pirates of the era? Henry Morgan, Captain Kidd, and Blackbeard are all arguably more famous both now and when they were alive. What made you choose Bellamy and Levasseur for this story?"

"I think," Denkins says, "I just answered that. There's a difference between how you perceive yourself, and how the world perceives you. Those famous pirates retained their notoriety even after death. Sam and Ollie did have reputations when they were alive, but if people today know them at all, it's typically for reasons completely unrelated to whatever little fame they achieved in life."

"And that fascinates you?"

Denkins looks irritated. "It doesn't matter what fascinates me. That's the story, that's—look, I don't know how to write a puff piece like this," Denkins says. "I don't know if it would really sound like this, if anyone would bother caring enough about what I want to get this far."

"Excuse me?" I say.

"Do you honestly think," Denkins says, "there's a single journalist out there that would actually agree to these interview conditions? This is a fantasy, a what-if, and it still doesn't work."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," says Denkins, "I didn't even give you a name."

And that's true, I realize. I don't have a name. 

"Right," says Denkins, as if hearing my thoughts—and I suppose, in a way, he does. "And you don't know how you got here, and you don't know where you'll go after. I made you up. I made all this up."

I look at my recorder, which isn't a recorder. I look at the room, which isn't a room. 

"Okay," I say. "So what did you want to happen?"

Denkins taps my phone's screen to stop the recording. Denkins imagines me noticing that he taps the screen, and so this must have meaning. There is no room for junk words and actions in prose, and even less in television. Whatever's on the page has to have meaning, or it's wasted space, wasted time, a moment that could have been useful now gone and never coming back.

Denkins shoves my phone back to the center of the table and says, "I wanted to see if I could just talk about the story without making it about me."

"But you're part of it," I point out. "You have to be. It came from you. It was something you thought was important, and then you put the effort in to create it. The story exists because of you, in relation to you. That's why people, why fans, want to know more about you. They love the story, and you made it, so they want to love you, too."

"I don't like that," says Denkins. "Rephrase it."

"They love the story," I say, parroting back at my creator, "and you made it. They want to know about you so they can know more about what the story means."

Denkins's chair creaks as he pushes it back, puts his head in his hands. I wonder if he's doing that in the real world, too, in the place where he's imagining this interview that will never exist. 

(Except I'm not the one wondering. He is. He's wondering what an interviewer would think of him if he allowed himself to show this weakness. Rephrase. Show this ache. Rephrase. Show this.)

"I'm not a story," Denkins says, face still hidden. The Muzak piped into the room seems too loud, too discordant now. Maybe that's what the world sounds like to him. "I'm not imaginary. I'm not a specimen to study under a microscope until every part of me is uncovered and connected one by one to every part of the show." He drags his hands back down and I think I can say that he looks very, very tired. 

"Yes, maybe I put some of myself in Blow the Man Down," he continues. "Maybe I did in season two as well. Maybe I put something in The Gang, and maybe I'll put something into whatever else I make for the next fifty years. And what I put there is—will be—has to be—my choice. All things I chose to share. But this?" He waves a hand at the nonexistent conference room, at nonexistent me. "This isn't a choice. It's a demand. I'm being held hostage for answers, as if me keeping my boundaries somehow ruins the show, ruins the story."

"Because you're not a story," I repeat back, watching for confirmation. "Because what you choose to reveal is the only story the audience should need."

"Yes," says Denkins. "That's it."

That's not it, though. I know this, because I'm him, talking to himself. Thinking all this through. 

"So you cut yourself off," I say. "No one can know anything about you, because they're already clawing for what you're not willing to share—so how much worse would it get if you gave them a chance to come closer, right?" 

"To take, and get it wrong anyway," he says. "Or get it right, but not like it. Not like me. How I'm perceived might change how the story is perceived. And even skipping over the whole art of it all—this is a business. How the story is perceived affects dozens, if not hundreds of people and careers. And all of it can get destroyed in an instant if there's some aspect of me that the audience decides is wrong."

Denkins pushes back from the table, stands up as if to leave. I'm not done yet, though. He's not done yet.

"Sounds lonely," I say.

"Sounds like something a fan would say," he shoots back, and I shrug.

"Blame yourself for thinking it and making me say it, then. It sounds lonely. It is lonely. It's lonely to think there's no way that you could open yourself up, talk about who you are and what your art means to you, without feeling like someone, everyone, will take advantage of that vulnerability."

I pause, and in that pause I find something to latch onto. "You've imagined me," I say. "You've imagined this scenario, where you stay cut off and oblique and hidden." I pick up my phone from where it's placed between us, and I shut it down completely—not because it exists, but because it's a symbol he understands. "What would happen if you imagined being part of the story?" I ask. Rephrase. "What would happen if you imagined being free?"

We look at each other. The tinny music of this artificial space comes to a sudden halt.

Denkins leaves the room. 

I am—

Denkins comes back. He sits down. He looks at me.

Time doesn't exist in the beige and glass room. But behind him, now, there is a poster of Sam Bellamy and Olivier Levasseur, a drilled coin on a cord stretched taut between them. And the Muzak hasn't restarted.

Denkins looks different. Or maybe he just feels different. Those things are functionally the same, here.

"You know the old movie trailers?" Denkins starts, not really a question. "The ones that start with 'in a world…'"

I nod. 

He smiles a little. "Okay. In a world where Blow the Man Down doesn't exist. Let's say there's something else instead. Let's say it's called Our Flag Means Death. It's a workplace comedy, it's the Golden Age of Piracy, the works. They even manage to kiss in the first season, though the cliffhanger is worse. And in that world, there's a different guy who runs it, a guy named David Jenkins, who seems nicer and more outgoing and shares a lot more of himself than I do. And I think it goes mostly okay for him, except he has to scrub his social media, delete most of his Instagram, and never gets to name his wife anywhere in case a fan might notice and start following her around."

"Sounds grim," I say.

He shrugs. "It's another way of handling it. David, in that world, has made a choice to draw the enemy fire toward himself, instead of hiding away and letting it scatter at random. It seems to work okay for him, and maybe it would for me too, but, you know. Maybe that's a little of myself I gave Ollie. Because I also like the idea of testing something first, all the way to destruction."

A little of myself. This—this is personal information. Something that, in the negotiations that never happened, he said he'd never give me.

My phone, with its blackened screen, is right there. I keep my hands still, folded together, decidedly not reaching for the phone. Denkins watches, sees. His shoulders loosen; neither of us, I think, realized how tense he'd been.

"In that world," he says, "there's a second season coming that no one knows anything about and there's a fandom going feral. Echo chambers that feed off their own theories because there's nothing new to add to the pot. Just like our world, right? In the absence of good data, overwrought ideology works just as well.

"And in the middle of this, to provide a distraction, maybe, or to draw that enemy fire like he so often does, David Jenkins says he'll get a Tumblr—you know, one of those not-really-social-media internet places. And maybe he does. He doesn't tell anyone his username, so it's a mystery whether he really did it or not. But someone opens an account. And someone says they're definitely not David Jenkins."

Javid Denkins is holding a cup of coffee. So am I, now. We take sips, mirrors of each other. The coffee tastes like it has seven sugars in it.

Denkins swirls his cup gently, not looking up at me. "When you're trying to figure out something that's terrifying," he says, slow and careful, "and enraging, and so big and so much that it feels like you'll collapse under the weight of it…sometimes you need to find a way to conceptualize it more abstractly. Make it manageable. Put it in bite-sized chunks. 

"So instead of me, dealing with all this fame, and these expectations, and these pulls to turn me from a person into a plot point…maybe there's this other guy. In this other universe, with this other pirate show. Another writer, who says he's definitely not David Jenkins. But—he could be. He could be. And either way, there's enough uncertainty that the fandom can't tell right away."

"Schrödinger's showrunner," I say. 

Denkins tips his mug at me. "Yeah, that gets pointed out, too. Because either it's really him and the fandom will eat at him—death by a thousand needy bites of demand, and something that feels like connection but by its nature can't be—or it's not him, just a fan pretending to be him, attention-seeking, scamming, stealing unearned laurels to crown a meaningless triumph: successfully mimicking the concept of David Jenkins."

"Pretty binary."

Denkins shrugs. "You saw the first season. I'm a sucker for duality." 

He hums and looks out the conference room's window. The AMC lot is gone. More accurately, it was never there. Outside the window is an ocean. The water is green-screen perfect, and there are two tall-masted ships in the distance: Bellamy's Whydah Gally and Levasseur's La Louise. They float angled toward one another, counterpart to their captains on the poster behind Jenkins, missing only the drilled coin between them.

"Except," says Denkins, slow and musing as he watches the distant ships, "in the vast multiverse of imaginable possible outcomes, it turns out that there is the very slimmest possible chance of a third thing happening."

There is another ship floating now between the Whydah and La Louise. It's freshly painted, poorly rigged, and its figurehead is a unicorn. Instead of one flag, it has half a dozen. And I know, because Denkins knows, that instead of gunpowder in its hold, it carries jars and jars of harmless marmalade.

"So," I say, "David Jenkins—"

"Oh, definitely not David Jenkins," says Javid Denkins, amusement lighting up his face. He keeps his eyes on that third ship.

"So the person who is definitely not David Jenkins," I say. "He comes and starts a social media account. He answers questions."

"Sort of. Nothing specific, really. Just…narrative likelihoods. Enough to dangle hope. But the fandom wants more. There's a Richard Siken line he sees, that if he'd chosen to stay anonymous maybe he could've actually posted: 'but monsters are always hungry, darling.' It's like that. So he backs up a little, and considers how to hold off the inevitable. The season two hints are vague? Make them vaguer. Add some smoke and mirrors to hide how little substance they have. There are only so many general pirate tropes around? Stretch out how long it takes to get the ones he has. Add steps. Add puzzles. Make the fandom work for it, and maybe they won't notice how little there is to find. Give them an interesting enough box to open, and they'll ignore the fact that there isn't an answer on the inside, just another, smaller box." He tilts his head and looks at me. The light outside is now luminous pink and yellow, flashing off the water and highlighting his face like a duotone painting. "Then he…" Denkins sighs. Puts down his mug. "Then I sit back and see what happens. I see if it's as bad as I think it would be if I did it here, in the real world."

"And is it?"

Denkins reaches out with one hand, tugging my phone over to his side of the table. He starts fiddling with the buttons, attention on it instead of me. "To start with? Yes. And no. It didn't matter that the one thing I promised was that I wasn't David Jenkins. They—the fandom—found me anyway. They assumed I was him. And I was right, of course I was right, they asked me questions. Hundreds of them. Like that was the only reason I existed, like I couldn't just be a regular person like the rest of them, just on Tumblr to read about the Carpathia and get taken out by the color of the sky."

"For better or for worse, you're a public person," I say. "They think they know what it means when a public person breaks down the barrier between themselves and the fans. Even well-meaning people make assumptions."

The recorder is no longer a phone and app; it's an old cassette player with thick plastic buttons like I, or more accurately Denkins, had as a child. It matches the ones his elementary school classrooms had, which in turn looked like the device Mr. Spock carried at his hip to record and interpret data from strange new worlds. 

Denkins, in the here and now, half-presses the play and record buttons, which would trigger the record function if pushed down completely. He holds back. Riding the edge of commitment. Over and over. 

"Yeah," he says. "Yes. That's true. And I could've been completely anonymous if I wanted to be left alone entirely. I suppose I wanted to prove that everything I believe—everything I'm afraid of—is true, and that I'm justified in hiding away, refusing to be 'known' by anyone I haven't specifically agreed to. Hence the thought exercise. And when I was done, and I had my proof," he says, leaving off the recorder buttons to raise a pointed finger at me, "I wouldn't have to see you again either."

We look at each other. "But here you are," I say.

He laughs. It's rusty, but sure. "Here I am," he agrees.

"So what happened?"

"Turns out," he says, "that in that infinite universe of possibilities a writer can dream up, there's a world where, yes, all my worst fears are confirmed…but that's not all that happens."

He stops, and we are both silent for a long, long moment. His fingertips brush over the recorder buttons, repetitive and soothing, like he's calming something feral and unused to human touch.

"Would you believe," he says at last, hushed and small in this glass and beige room floating on a digital sea, "that there is a world where fans—people—don't ask for more than I want to give? Who see the box I'm in, and instead of ripping it open to grasp for whatever good thing they think they can find inside…they give something back. 

"I played it all out, you see." He waves his hand over the recorder. Now there are two of them, sitting side by side, each with a row of thick black plastic buttons along the edge: one to play, one to rewind, one to record, and one to pop open its lid so that the cassette can be changed. One of the recorders is a little bigger than the other. "If I can imagine it," he says, "it has to be possible."

He looks at the two recorders; he's quiet now, talking to himself rather than me. I don't think I'm as necessary as I was before. I think maybe this is just him. Just Denkins in this lonely little room. He moves the smaller recorder so that it's lined up with the larger one, like he's lining up Matryoshka dolls as he reveals them.

"It started small," he says. "There were people who saw my puzzles, and made puzzles back for me, just to play along. People who saw my puzzles, and shared what they knew about them, just to help others play too. Small things. Little things. Possible things. I liked it. I didn't expect it. I…wanted to give back, too. Not just in the story, I mean. It was me who wanted it. Wanted to add to a world, to a community, where that sort of giving could happen. So I went further. I didn't just try to hint at common story beats this other show might hit—I started listening, following, asking what would be most welcome, and then gave that instead. And it grew. It grew until it wasn't really just an experiment anymore. It stopped being an adversarial proof. It started being…something else."

Denkins reaches out, and now there are three recorders on the table. The newest one is the smallest. He lines it up with the others.

"I'd already made David Jenkins," he says, "and in turn he'd made his own Javid Denkins. So why not do it again? This other Javid Denkins, this me who's me but not me, goes deeper. He uses the tools at his disposal. Our Flag Means Death has pirates named Edward Teach and Stede Bonnet. OFMD has a fandom like BTMD does, where people write stories about the characters, for themselves and—for others. Fan fiction. A thing that can be a gift, if you want it to be. So I started to write one."

One by one, Denkins hits the 'play' button on each of the recorders. The cassettes whir, a steady background hum. Each starts playing a part of some orchestral piece. Not the individual instruments, but something stranger. It's as if each cassette contains the whole work, but with fragments missing that the others complete. There are still some gaps in the playback.

Denkins waves his hand over the collection again, and a fourth recorder, smallest of all, appears. He presses play on it too, and the music fills in. It's a pretty little melody. Simple, if you know how to hear it.

Denkins hums a little of it before looking up, seeing me again. "That was it, really. That's what finally made all this small enough for me to understand. Made it small enough, far enough away from my actual world that I could finally let myself feel it. In this story that I'm telling, here is Edward Teach." Denkins touches the smallest recorder very, very gently. "Teach lives in a world where he's not the main character; he's just a fan of a gay pirate romcom called Blow the Man Down. He's tired, and he's angry, and he doesn't know how to deal with the world the way it is, with the fandom as he perceives it. He makes a Twitter account, anonymously, to prove that what he fears is real."

Denkins covers the recorder with both hands, only muffling the music a little. "Here's Edward Teach, made up of all my fears and saying them out loud."

He raises his hands, and now there are two little recorders, the same size, both playing the same parts together. He touches the new recorder with his fingertip, as if it's a bubble that could too easily break. "Here's Stede Bonnet," he says, "made up of all my fears coming true. And then having to live through it anyway." He stares down at this new recorder; the same as the Edward Teach one, but evidently special in some way to Denkins. He says, to me, to it, to the room: "It's a hell of a thing, to need to go so far away just to see what you've been carrying on your back the whole time."

After a moment, he looks back up at me. "In my story," he says, "Stede survives the disaster. My disaster. He survives it, because he has Ed—a love interest, yes, but not just that. He's someone he opened up to. And more than that, I saw—because I could imagine it, and so it must be possible, it has to actually be possible—I saw the fandom become…people."

With both hands, Denkins presses a button on each of these two small recorders.

Their lids pop open.

And from the walls, from the ceiling, from the glass windows and the limitless sea, there comes a multiverse of music.

"These people," says Denkins, tilting his head to listen as the swells of unseen instruments add to the gentle overture of his pocket worlds and turn the piece into something greater than the sum of its parts. "They're not some nameless collective made up of their worst impulses. They're just people. People are complicated. You can never know them completely; they can never know you. All you really get is what they—we—choose to do. 

"And I saw people try to help Stede. People, strangers, who didn't know who he was, not really. And they felt compassion anyway."

After a long moment, just taking in the music, Denkins sighs and carefully closes the lids on the two small recorders. The singing universe becomes just a recorded orchestral piece once again—though no less beautiful for it. He gently pushes the two recorders together until they're touching, side by side, and covers them with his hand. He says, "Ed got to see this. He got to know that even if his worst fear happens, he'll be okay on the other side of it. And he won't be alone." 

He lifts his hand; the two are now one, still playing its little melody.

Denkins picks up this amalgamated recorder and sets it on top of the next largest. He puts his hand over the stack he's just made. "Move it up a level," Denkins says. "David Jenkins, or someone who is definitely not David Jenkins, runs a Tumblr with games and puzzles and digital tools that stretch the boundaries of the narrative. He sees the reactions to his story. Sees fans who know it isn't real, who know that Stede and Ed are characters in a narrative—and nevertheless, these fans, these people, see that these characters are hurting. They try to help. They don't know who's behind the masks labeled 'Stede' and 'Ed,' not really. But they feel compassion anyway."

He lifts his hand. The little recorder atop the larger is gone. The music is different. Not lessened, but changed. It's come closer. 

Once more, Denkins moves the smaller combined recorder onto the last one—or, I suppose, the first of all of them. "So move it up one more time," he says. The music isn't audible in the room now; but I hear it anyway. It's in me. Us. The last little notes coming from the final recorders just a reminder of what the world could sound like.

He covers the top recorder with both hands. His touch is aching and very, very soft. "Here's me. Javid Denkins. I don't know if there's a world where I could open myself up and not have everything burn down in flames. I don't know if it could ever be possible for me to leave this room, open my laptop, and start something, somewhere, called 'definitely not Javid Denkins,' and have it be as beautiful and awe-inspiring as it was in my thought experiment.

"But God," he says, "I want it."

He lifts his hands, and all that's left is the final recorder, the one that was my phone to begin with. The music dissipates completely. But the feeling of it remains. Denkins rests his hands on either side of this solitary recorder. He says, "I don't know if all of that—all of them, my fans, my friends, all of what we made together…I don't know if it already exists for me in the real world. Just waiting for me to be brave enough to look. I don't know. But I think I have to believe that it does. That they do. I have to believe that it's possible not just to imagine that kind of grace, but to live it." 

Denkins brushes his thumb over the last recorder's play button. "I think that's what it means to be human," he says. "To try anyway. To unlock yourself despite your fears, and find hope there waiting for you."

He closes his eyes. I close my eyes. We take a deep breath together.

We open our eyes.

After a moment, I smile at Denkins, a little crooked. I've got one last question to ask, and it's one he might even answer. 

"Who are you, really?" I ask. 

It's something we all have to answer about ourselves eventually, and it seems particularly relevant now.

Denkins shrugs, and his smile mirrors mine. "Does it matter?"

"It feels like it does."

"How about this," he says. "Who are you, really?"

And knowing what I know now…if I'm anyone at all, then I suppose I'm Javid Denkins. An aspect. A reflection. A dream.

And so, in these universes he's imagined, is everyone.

"So," Denkins says. "You think I can start over?"

I smile wider. It feels good. "I'd love that."

He pushes the recorder back to me, and in my heart I hear his laughing request for one last rephrase—

Javid Denkins has been waiting for me.

It's 9:30 in the morning and I'm sitting across the table from a cheerful enigma. Denkins was already in the room when I arrived, a hot coffee by my seat and a box filled with fresh breakfast pastries and marmalade open and ready to be enjoyed. An advertising standup emblazoned with the unreleased (at time of writing) air date for season two of Denkins's Blow the Man Down takes pride of place at the head of the table. Through the windows opposite, bright sunlight bounces off the buzzing AMC studio lot, and I think I hear a certain pirate romcom's theme music playing quietly over the room's speakers.

Denkins grins at me, and it's easy to see why his actors and writers speak so highly of the experience of working with him. Because I can tell already: this is going to be fun. 

It starts when he leans forward, eyes bright, and presses the record button on my phone for me.

"Let's play," he says, and—we do.

[merlin-bdsm-fest]

Visual resources primer

If you're creating a visual oriented fanwork or you're a writer who needs to see all the details to craft the perfect sentence, we thought of you!

This resource post is for visuals. It is geared towards artists who have never drawn BDSM art or want to try to represent new kinks for our fest.

⚠️ Proceed with caution! ⚠️

There are no images in this post, only links. All the links contain nsfw content varying from artistic nudity to sexual photos. 🔞 I specify the content (cw) of the website linked to the best of my ability, but none of it is appropriate for the average office workplace.

Please be mindful of your own triggers and limits before clicking any link.

■ General advice

Drawing kinky and/or bdsm scenes for the first time requires some level of research, but depending on what you want to depict it can be more or less than your average piece of art.

Drawing temperature play with ice? As easy as googling "ice". Drawing specific gear like puppy play hoods or a shibari design might require more diving.

■ Genitals

Before delving in the saucier part, I thought some basics might be a good introduction. Not all BDSM involves genitals, but some of it does, so take what you need.

[cw the following are all drawn 2d tutorials of genitals]

- Tutorial on dicks - More dicks and piercings - T-dick in various states - T-dick more in detail - Vulva tutorial - Vulva tutorial on pixiv

For more drawn references the sites that have the best tagging system are imo: • Rule 34 [cw the page opens to an anime drawing of a girl in bikini, depending on what you search it contains every kind of 2d porn] • Pixiv (requires login) [cw, before login it has a sfw interface, once you log in the main page differs (it shows what's popular at the moment etc) so it can contain 2D porn or be entirely sfw, proceed with caution]

Why looking at nsfw art? Looking at art first might ease you into the subject and make it feel less awkward, and artists tend to accentuate details, so observing other artists is a great tool to see what they did and seeing if it works for us too!

■ Now, onto Real Life Resources!

• For genital photos, but also for any kink I'm sure a reddit community or thread exists! While reddit has a bad reputation from its user base, when it comes to unedited nsfw photos is a great place to look at, the downside is that often the photos are not professional and the face is cropped for privacy reasons. • Flickr has a good tagging/filtering system and while it doesn't have explicit sexual content, it allows kink and "artistic nudity", some examples: - Shibari Group on Flickr [cw: photos of people of various genders, tied up, various states of undress, genitals can be seen in some photos] - Folsom Berlin Group on Flickr [cw: people in bdsm gear, parading for the fair in the streets, leather, latex, various states of undress but no genitals showing in the first page linked]

note: Folsom is an annual BDSM and leather subculture street fair, there are many pride events with a parade part dedicated to kink or leather: looking into Pride photos could be a great way to take a look at gear being worn without having to seek porn • Check Youtube for gear reviews, sex education content and dungeon tours like this one by sexplanations [cw sfw video showing a dungeon and some activities are demonstrated by a woman as the sub and a male dom, both clothed] • Twitter has some content but it's basically impossible to filter properly, so I don't personally use it, but following some accounts as you find them or looking at tags, like Shibari Photography [cw people tied up, nudity] might get you some interesting results • Go back to the origins and check DeviantArt. DA has some amazing stock photos [cw might contain nudity] - for example I recently found this account on DA (thetiedtyper) [cw naked women in stock, pillories and chains, full nudity] that has some kinky stocks photos, perfect for the Merlin setting! • Browse BDSM Sex Shops online (or irl if you want to): sex shops have good photos of the gear and also they use the proper name for them, so you can look further into it. - Mr S Leather [cw bdsm gay sex shop, photos of examples of the objects used during sexual activity, naked bodies and genitals showing] - Etsy [cw bsdm gear search on etsy, nudity, naked people showing the accessories] While buying handmade sexual paraphernalia can be risky, there's no risk in looking at these amazing crafts to feature them in your art. You can find some really creative stuff here. • Change search engine Have you noticed how, no matter how hard you try, google will never show you decent nsfw results? I have, and it's because their filter is busted Ecosia and DuckDuckGo work best in my experience, but I'm sure other alternatives exist. You can use our resource post to see some keywords to use. • Look at porn Most porn websites have good photos or at least free video previews. I personally don't look at videos unless I need to understand a specific practice or pose (thing can get complicated ;) ) Porn is great to get the anatomy (we can bend in unexpected ways!) and also to get the way different parts interact. A rope can be tighter or more loose and that impacts the skin and fat/muscle of the person. Leather bends and reflect light a certain way. Even the simple ice from my initial example might surprise us with how the skin reacts with goosebumps or reddens and how the ice slides over it. You can also notice the set: some porn sets are simpler and some are dungeons with a very neat aesthetic, a gloryhole setting might look shady and dirty or be a "normal" bathroom stall. Just a couple examples: - DBNaked [cw: explicit porn, photos of extreme bdsm practices, the link directs to the BDSM gay category, but the website features porn of every kind, you can search the categories/tags to what suits your needs] - This shibari Japanese website which I'm including because the ropework is beautiful [cw solo photos of men from clothed to naked, tied up and with other various kinks involved, unrelated but it features a lot of clothing kink too XD]

■ Materials that will make your life easier

You've got the reference, your visual library is full, what can make your drawing experience even smoother?

Many programs have assets/materials that can help you

• Clip Studio Assets: - This rope brush set (you might recognize from our banner <3) 100 clippy Content ID: 1843256 - Free rope brushes - This free chain brush Content ID: 1844909 - Free Seam brush, useful for giving details to leather and corsets Content ID: 1848691 - Free Stitch brush for more clothes or accessories detailing Content ID: 1896762 - This "fluid" brush, 10 clippy, worth it! I swear by this one, I use it mostly for sweat and it's *chef's kiss Content ID: 1790153 Some Materials websites do not allow terms like 'blood' or 'semen/come' so artists may use "glue" or other alternative search terms. CSP has a lot of scars brushes and many more <3 you can easily look at them in the assets, depending on which kink you choose. But what about other art programs? • Gumroad is a marketplace for artists. Search 'keyword + brush' and toggle the NSFW button on to have more results. The price might vary from a couple dollars to more depending on the kind of brush and set. Gumroad also has nsfw photo packs, if you really want a specific thing or to check them out. - Free Glue Brush for Procreate - Free Mystery Liquid for procreate - Free milk brush for Procreate • DeviantArt [cw this opens the main page for DA, may contain nudity or 2d porn] has some materials you might use.

I didn't go more in depth for Photoshop because i think it has its own shop/marketplace. For Krita and other softwares I couldn't find any brush, I think their software engine is not as advanced right now.

The textures on Gumroad and DA work for all programs.

■ Follow nsfw artists and engage with the community

Many artists share what they use or where they got it, and can often give useful tips, no matter what they draw. I hope these tips, as modest as they are, will be helpful not only for the BDSM week, but also for Kinkalot and the rest of your creative path ♡

In conclusion, whether you choose to draw Arthur in a simple and cute collar (cw sfw cute collar) or to paint a well negotiated BDSM orgy of the Knights roleplaying as Merlin's slaves, remember to have fun!

[uroboros-if]

Hi I'm the person who made Pandora, and I wanna talk about her more because I love her so I'm gonna talk about her fashion and how I imagine she started wearing what she normally wears

I would love to send photos of what she would wear, but I feel like none of them can 100% perfect what I imagine her and have drawn her wearing, so I've just decided to send a picture of her later when I'm finished with like a basic reference sheet.

Lucidio has been described as a paradise; because of that, it doesn't get too hot or cold; it's just right and comfortable for everyone. A quote that I went back to get for this

The sun is always high in the sky, and though it warms your skin pleasantly, a gentle breeze cools you off always. Always.

Also, I imagine that Pandora would be fond of more simplistic clothing for reasons; I feel like she would feel uncomfortable in Lucidio wearing the more extravagant Galaio fashion when a lot of the human souls there, unfortunately, and most likely (depending on what era humanity is in), would never have the opportunity to wear such clothes and I can imagine her feeling bad at what feels like to her rubbing her status as a deity in their face when she is supposed to guide and protect them in the afterlife, feeling like it comes off as unapproachable. Due to this, although she definitely finds the fashion of Galaio beautiful and loved to admire the fashion of all the regions before she started working in Lucidio and even loved wearing it to a certain extent, she believed that the climate in Lucidio made it so that if she wore those dresses for an extended amount of time, she might just overheat (Southwestern Galaio and Central Galaio clothing mainly) or might be too extravagant or unapproachable, and she chose to try to wear a more simplistic version of the clothing at first, and over time she became progressively more interested in human fashion and clothing and decided to ask some of the civilians about the origins out of curiosity, and some were willing to teach her how to make it, and she basically fell in love with it and took up the offer enthusiastically.

This is just how I like to think she started her taste in fashion, and I don't think it's accurate to the fashion guide you made (or the story), but It just feels right to me, and thinking about it, when Pandora leaves Lucidio for whatever reason, she changes back into the regular fashion of Galaio to fit in more though I imagine that after a while she wouldn't bother and would just wear what she found most comfortable. Also, she would 100% wear a chemise a la reine

Drawn?! I wish I could see!! 😭

You're welcome to headcanon any fashion you think Pandora will wear! I personally think Central Galaio's fashion fits the best, because I've already accounted for climate conditions when picking the inspo. I believe it was warmer during the Song Dynasty, so they specifically wore lighter, cooler fabrics during that time!

Lucidio is also made to be "paradise," hence the temperature is always "perfect." You won't overheat, nor will you get too cold either 💕

But exactly because of that as well, anything goes!! Extravagance, simplicity, people can dress as they please in Lucidio and not have to worry about being uncomfortable.

Chemise la reine is so beautiful though!!!

Thank you for such in-depth thoughts you have on Pandora, she's positively adorable! I can see how much love you have for her ♥️

[acrimleyarts245-03]

Blog 1

Hello! This is my first post on my new blog for my typography class so welcome! I hope you enjoy this experience as we take this journey throughout the semester together. So, this week we had to read from a book called "Thinking with Type" by Ellen Lupton (just know that when I reference the book, this is the one I will be talking about). This particular chapter was about Letters and typefaces, which is an essential resource for graphic designers (which is the career I would like to pursue once I finish school). The first typefaces were modeled on the forms of calligraphy, which makes sense since calligraphy is a very old form of writing/art. The anatomy of letters is a thing that was created, which I find very fascinating because I have not thought of an inanimate object...? would have anatomy even though now that I think of it, it is just pieces that make up something. Another thing that I found very interesting is that bold and abstract typefaces did not become a thing until the 19th century! I do like to gravitate more towards these typefaces when working on a specific project, so I am glad that artists decided to stray away from the 'neat' and 'fancy' lettering. Overall, in this chapter, I learned that typefaces are very important in context, and they help portray the message that the creator is trying to convey so it is important to research and take your time to find the perfect one!

Moving on, this week we are working on our first project! We must choose a famous person and represent them in 9 different squares, I decided to go with famous surrealist painter Salvador Dali. The picture is of the first 3 squares, the photo of your celebrity, the second square is a pen (either ballpoint or micro pen) version of the person that is visually pleasing and the 3rd one is like the 2nd one, but it is more silhouette-type drawing. Not going to lie, this project is a big pain and I am not a big fan of it, but I think it is because I am hardcore struggling on the next 3 squares in this project(I will show the product next blog), and I feel like 8/29 class was a waste because I did not accomplish much. I have also printed out so many different versions of my original photos and none of them have been RIGHT at ALL. The first thing that should have been done is still not done because something is always wrong with it. Today's class (8/29), I thought I had everything sorted out, but I found out that is 0.5 inches too SMALL, so now I need to photocopy some new ones. Regardless of my inept struggles right now, I am going to persevere and finish this project, producing excellent quality at the same time because an artist never quits! at least not this one. That is all for now, I will update you guys' next week when I complete this project further but until then, signing off. 

Here are my pieces so far:

[copperbadge]

NaClYoHo wasn’t very photogenic today, so I thought I’d open with a photograph of Polk, The World’s Longest Tiny Cat. 

[ID: Three photos; the first shows Dearborn the tortie and Polk the tabby on my duvet, Dearborn curled up but Polk stretched out as long as she is able. The two photos below are of today’s lunch, another King Arthur pizza, and my plant windowsill, with catnip, spider plant, Mystery Orchid, tomatoes, basil, dill, paprika, and peppers; glass ornaments from my favorite glass store hang above them.]

Got a bunch of new readers today, so FYI “NaClYoHo” is my version of NaNoWriMo, where I spend every day in November listening to podcasts and cleaning. If you’d like to know more the Manifesto is here, or you can click the “naclyoho” tag on this post. 

I could feel myself getting a bit tired, and trying to half-ass stuff lately in terms of cleaning, so I may take a break tomorrow and I took it a bit easy today. I did finish sorting through the storage boxes -- sort of. One of them I know is just paperwork and photographs so I put it on the bottom of the pile (it’s super heavy) and put the three well-sorted bins on top of it, so the kitties have their climbing tower again. It leaves two boxes left to sort through; I refer to those as the Trauma Boxes even though they’re just places I’ve thrown stuff I don’t know what to do with, so they’ll take a while to get through. 

I did a bit of pruning on the plants; I really need to empty out and clean the aerogarden but I’ll wait on that for a bit, especially since some of the plants need a bit more growing time before I transplant them. And I made some pizza for lunch because I’ve been craving it lately but not up to dealing with delivery guys. Plus I have like four cans of tomato sauce that I should be using up. 

I also did some online shopping, none of it very fruitful. I’d like to order some cut-to-fit lumber but you have to go in person to do that; I considered ordering custom cutting boards and using those but it’d be $70 which is a lot to pay for a bathroom cabinet upgrade that wouldn’t be visible. I’d like a stand for some of the planters and possibly some new planters (instead of buckets and upcycled mixing bowls), and I took measurements today for a new dresser/clothes organizer, but I can’t find anything I like in an attractive and lightweight design. I want a dresser that has some open shelving, and I’d like some fairly deep drawers in it as well, but anything I found remotely interesting was too bulky or heavy. It may be a long-term quest.  

Listened mostly to news podcasts today -- extremely dull episodes about climate change and COP27 by The Indicator and The Journal, a more interesting episode about the status of Twitter by The Journal, and an episode about “Alt Labor” (basically union rebranding) by The Indicator. Roughly an hour, so I’m still doing well above the 20 minute average I generally do for NaClYoHo. 

[mcmansionhell]

Underground, Part 1

[Author’s Note: A year ago, when waiting for the DC Metro, I came up with an idea for a short story involving two realtors and the infamous Las Vegas Underground House, typed up an outline, and shoved it away in my documents where it sat neglected until this month. The house recently resurfaced on Twitter, and combined with almost a year of quarantine, the story quickly materialized. Though I rarely write fiction, I decided I’d give it a shot as a kind of novelty McMansion Hell post. I’ve peppered the story with photos from the house to break up the walls of text. Hopefully you find it entertaining. I look forward to returning next month with the second installment of this as well as our regularly scheduled McMansion content. Happy New Year!

Warning: there’s lots of swearing in this.]

Underground

Back in 1997, Mathieu Rino, the son of two Finnish mechanical engineers who may or may not have worked intimately with the US State Department, changed his name to Jay Renault in order to sell more houses. It worked wonders.

He gets out of the car, shuts the door harder than he should. Renault wrinkles his nose. It’s a miserable Las Vegas afternoon - a sizzling, dry heat pools in ripples above the asphalt. The desert is a place that is full of interesting and diverse forms of life, but Jay’s the kind of American who sees it all as empty square-footage. He frowns at the dirt dusting up his alligator-skin loafers but then remembers that every lot, after all, has potential. Renault wipes the sweat from his leathery face, slicks back his stringy blond hair and adjusts the aviators on the bridge of his nose. The Breitling diving watch crowding his wrist looks especially big in the afternoon glare. He glances at it.

“Shit,” he says. The door on the other side of the car closes, as though in response. 

If Jay Renault is the consummate rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xer trying to sell houses to other rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xers, then Robert Little is his millennial counterpart. Both are very good at their jobs. Robert adjusts his tie in the reflection of the Porsche window, purses his lips. He’s Vegas-showman attractive, with dark hair, a decent tan, and a too-bright smile - the kind of attractive that ruins marriages but makes for an excellent divorcee. Mildly sleazy.

“Help me with these platters, will you?” Renault gestures, popping the trunk. Robert does not want to sweat too much before an open house, but he obliges anyway. They’re both wearing suits. The heat is unbearable. A spread of charcuterie in one hand, Jay double-checks his pockets for the house keys, presses the button that locks his car. 

Both men sigh, and their eyes slowly trail up to the little stucco house sitting smack dab in the center of an enormous lot, a sea of gravel punctuated by a few sickly palms. The house has the distinct appearance of being made of cardboard, ticky-tacky, a show prop. Burnt orange awnings don its narrow windows, which somehow makes it look even more fake. 

“Here we go again,” Jay mutters, fishing the keys out of his pocket. He jiggles them until the splintered plywood door opens with a croak, revealing a dark and drab interior – dusty, even though the cleaners were here yesterday. Robert kicks the door shut with his foot behind him.

 “Christ,” he swears, eyes trailing over the terrible ecru sponge paint adorning the walls. “This shit is so bleak.”

The surface-level house is mostly empty. There’s nothing for them to see or attend to there, and so the men step through a narrow hallway at the end of which is an elevator. They could take the stairs, but don’t want to risk it with the platters. After all, they were quite expensive. Renault elbows the button and the doors part. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” he says as they step inside. The fluorescent lights above them buzz something awful. A cheery metal sign welcomes them to “Tex’s Hideaway.” Beneath it is an eldritch image of a cave, foreboding. Robert’s stomach’s in knots. Ever since the company assigned him to this property, he’s been terrified of it. He tells himself that the house is, in fact, creepy, that it is completely normal for him to be ill at ease. The elevator’s ding is harsh and mechanical. They step out. Jay flips a switch and the basement is flooded with eerie light. 

It’s famous, this house - The Las Vegas Underground House. The two realtors refer to it simply as “the bunker.” Built by an eccentric millionaire at the height of Cold War hysteria, it’s six-thousand square feet of paranoid, aspirational fantasy. The first thing anyone notices is the carpet – too-green, meant to resemble grass, sprawling out lawn-like, bookmarked by fake trees, each a front for a steel beam. Nothing can grow here. It imitates life, unable to sustain it. The leaves of the ficuses seem particularly plastic.

Bistro sets scatter the ‘yard’ (if one can call it that), and there’s plenty of outdoor activities – a parquet dance floor complete with pole and disco ball, a putt putt course, an outdoor grill made to look like it’s nestled in a rock, but in reality better resembles a baked potato. The pool and hot tub, both sculpted in concrete and fiberglass mimicking a natural rock formation, are less Playboy grotto and more Fred Flintstone. It’s a very seventies idea of fun.

Then, of course, there’s the house. That fucking house. 

A house built underground in 1978 was always meant to be a mansard – the mansard roof was a historical inevitability. The only other option was International Style modernism, but the millionaire and his wife were red-blooded anti-Communists. Hence, the mansard. Robert thinks the house looks like a fast-food restaurant. Jay thinks it looks like a lawn and tennis club he once attended as a child where he took badminton lessons from a swarthy Czech man named Jan. It’s drab and squat, made more open by big floor-to-ceiling windows nestled under fresh-looking cedar shingles. There’s no weather down here to shrivel them up.

“Shall we?” Jay drawls. The two make their way into the kitchen and set the platters down on the white tile countertop. Robert leans up against the island, careful of the oversized hood looming over the electric stovetop. He eyes the white cabinets, accented with Barbie pink trim. The matching linoleum floor squeaks under his Italian loafers. 

“I don’t understand why we bother doing this,” Robert complains. “Nobody’s seriously going to buy this shit, and the company’s out a hundred bucks for party platters.”

“It’s the same every time,” Renault agrees. “The only people who show up are Instagram kids and the crazies - you know, the same kind of freaks who’d pay money to see Chernobyl.” 

“Dark tourism, they call it.”

Jay checks his watch again. Being in here makes him nervous.

“Still an hour until open house,” he mutters. “I wish we could get drunk.”

Robert exhales deeply. He also wishes he could get drunk, but still, a job’s a job.

“I guess we should check to see if everything’s good to go.”

The men head into the living room. The beamed, slanted ceiling gives it a mid-century vibe, but the staging muddles the aura. Jay remembers making the call to the staging company. “Give us your spares,” he told them, “Whatever it is you’re not gonna miss. Nobody’ll ever buy this house anyway.” 

The result is eclectic – a mix of office furniture, neo-Tuscan McMansion garb, and stuffy waiting-room lamps, all scattered atop popcorn-butter shag carpeting. Hideous, Robert thinks. Then there’s the ‘entertaining’ room, which is a particular pain in the ass to them, because the carpet was so disgusting, they had to replace it with that fake wood floor just to be able to stand being in there for more than five minutes. There’s a heady stone fireplace on one wall, the kind they don’t make anymore, a hearth. Next to it, equally hedonistic, a full bar. Through some doors, a red-painted room with a pool table and paintings of girls in fedoras on the wall. It’s all so cheap, really. Jay pulls out a folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket along with a pen. He ticks some boxes and moves on.

The dining room’s the worst to Robert. Somehow the ugly floral pattern on the curtains stretches up in bloomer-like into a frilly cornice, carried through to the wallpaper and the ceiling, inescapable, suffocating. It smells like mothballs and old fabric. The whole house smells like that. 

The master bedroom’s the most normal – if anything in this house could be called normal. Mismatched art and staging furniture crowd blank walls. When someone comes into a house, Jay told Robert all those years ago, they should be able to picture themselves living in it. That’s the goal of staging. 

There’s two more bedrooms. The men go through them quickly. The first isn’t so bad – claustrophobic, but acceptable – but the saccharine pink tuille wallpaper of the second gives Renault a sympathetic toothache. The pair return to the kitchen to wait.

Both men are itching to check their phones, but there’s no point – there’s no signal in here, none whatsoever. Renault, cynical to the core, thinks about marketing the house to the anti-5G people. It’s unsettlingly quiet. The two men have no choice but to entertain themselves the old-fashioned way, through small talk.

“It’s really fucked up, when you think about it,” Renault muses.

“What is?”

“The house, Bob.”

Robert hates being called Bob. He’s told Jay that hundreds of times, and yet…

“Yeah,” Robert mutters, annoyed.

“No, really. Like, imagine. You’re rich, you founded a major multinational company marketing hairbrushes to stay-at-home moms, and what do you decide to do with your money? Move to Vegas and build a fucking bunker. Like, imagine thinking the end of the world is just around the corner, forcing your poor wife to live there for ten, fifteen years, and then dying, a paranoid old man.” Renault finds the whole thing rather poetic. 

“The Russkies really got to poor ol’ Henderson, didn’t they?” Robert snickers.

“The wife’s more tragic if you ask me,” Renault drawls. “The second that batshit old coot died, she called a guy to build a front house on top of this one, since she already owned the lot. Poor woman probably hadn’t seen sunlight in God knows how long.”

“Surely they had to get groceries.”

Jay frowns. Robert has no sense of drama, he thinks. Bad trait for a realtor.

“Still,” he murmurs. “It’s sad.”

“I would have gotten a divorce, if I were her,” the younger man says, as though it were obvious. It’s Jay’s turn to laugh.

“I’ve had three of those, and trust me, it’s not as easy as you think.”

“You’re seeing some new girl now, aren’t you?” Robert doesn’t really care, he just knows Jay likes to talk about himself, and talking fills the time.  

“Yeah. Casino girl. Twenty-six.”

“And how old are you again?”

“None of your business.”

“Did you see the renderings I emailed to you?” Robert asks briskly, not wanting to discuss Jay’s sex life any further.

“What renderings?”

“Of this house, what it could look like.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Jay has not seen the renderings.

“If it were rezoned,” Robert continues, feeling very smart, “It could be a tourist attraction - put a nice visitor’s center on the lot, make it sleek and modern. Sell trinkets. It’s a nice parcel, close to the Strip - some clever investor could make it into a Museum of Ice Cream-type thing, you know?”

“Museum of Ice Cream?”

“In New York. It’s, not, like, educational or anything. Really, it’s just a bunch of colorful rooms where kids come to take pictures of themselves.”

“Instagram,” Jay mutters. “You know, I just sold a penthouse the other week to an Instagram influencer. Takes pictures of herself on the beach to sell face cream or some shit. Eight-point-two million dollars.”

“Jesus,” Robert whistles. “Fat commission.”

“You’re telling me. My oldest daughter turns sixteen this year. She’s getting a Mazda for Christmas.”

“You ever see that show, My Super Sweet Sixteen? On MTV? Where rich kids got, like, rappers to perform at their birthday parties? Every time at the end, some guy would pull up in, like, an Escalade with a big pink bow on it and all the kids would scream.”

“Sounds stupid,” Jay says.

“It was stupid.”

It’s Robert’s turn to check his watch, a dainty gold Rolex.

“Fuck, still thirty minutes.”

“Time really does stand still in here, doesn’t it?” Jay remarks.

“We should have left the office a little later,” Robert complains. “The charcuterie is going to get –“

A deafening sound roars through the house and a violent, explosive tremor throws both men on the ground, shakes the walls and everything between them. The power’s out for a few seconds before there’s a flicker, and light fills the room again. Two backup generators, reads Jay’s description in the listing - an appeal to the prepper demographic, which trends higher in income than non-preppers. For a moment, the only things either are conscious of are the harsh flourescent lighting and the ringing in their ears. Time slows, everything seems muted and too bright. Robert rubs the side of his face, pulls back his hand and sees blood.

“Christ,” he chokes out. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” Jay breathes, looking at his hands, trying to determine if he’s got a concussion. The results are inconclusive – everything’s slow and fuzzy, but after a moment, he thinks it might just be shock.

“It sounded like a fucking 747 just nosedived on top of us.” 

“Yeah, Jesus.” Jay’s still staring at his fingers in a daze. “You okay?”

“I think so,” Robert grumbles. Jay gives him a cursory examination.

“Nothing that needs stitches,” he reports bluntly. Robert’s relieved. His face sells a lot of houses to a lot of lonely women and a few lonely men. There’s a muffled whine, which the two men soon recognize as a throng of sirens. Both of them try to calm the panic rising in their chests, to no avail.

“Whatever the fuck happened,” Jay says, trying to make light of the situation, “At least we’re in here. The bunker.”

Fear forms in the whites of Robert’s eyes.

“What if we’re stuck in here,” he whispers, afraid to speak such a thing into the world. The fear spreads to his companion.

“Try the elevator,” Jay urges, and Robert gets up, wobbles a little as his head sorts itself out, and leaves. A moment later, Jay hears him swear a blue streak, and from the kitchen window, sees him standing before the closed metal doors, staring at his feet. His pulse racing, Renault jogs out to see for himself.

“It’s dead,” Robert murmurs. 

“Whatever happened,” Jay says cautiously, rubbing the back of his still-sore neck, “It must have been pretty bad. Like, I don’t think we should go up yet. Besides, surely the office knows we’re still down here.”

“Right, right,” the younger man breathes, trying to reassure himself.

“Let’s just wait it out. I’m sure everything’s fine.” The way Jay says it does not make Robert feel any better. 

“Okay,” the younger man grumbles. “I’m getting a fucking drink, though.”

“Yeah, Jesus. That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.” Renault shoves his hands in his suit pocket to keep them from trembling.  

If you like this post, and want to see more like it, consider supporting me on Patreon!

There is a whole new slate of Patreon rewards, including: good house of the month, an exclusive Discord server, weekly drawings, monthly livestreams, a reading group, free merch at certain tiers and more!

Not into recurring donations but still want to show support? Consider the tip jar! 

Or, Check out the McMansion Hell Store! Proceeds from the store help protect great buildings from the wrecking ball.

[lesyasun]

A while ago I received an interesting question about game aesthetics. The person in that ask really struggles with downloading stuff and finding their own style. They asked me how I came up with what you see on my screenshots. Have you ever thought that you can recognize whose screenshot this is by just a quick glance? Is editing important in photoshop? How to take beautiful screenshots? Today let’s talk about how different one single game could be for each of us and what really makes this mysterious “sims aesthetics”.

EDIT: Sorry, it turned out to be huge with lots of random thoughts :D I hope at least one percent of these is useful!

NOTE: English is not my native language, I apologize for possible grammar or spelling mistakes. I tried my best in writing this!

Ok, let’s imagine that you’re a person who just obtained the sims game or just want a nice fresh start and demolished your download folder. (We all need fresh starts sometimes, right?) The struggle is that you have no idea which style you like the best. There are so many sims blogs. Everyone seems to enjoy what they post but you’re a little bit lost in that jungle. Don’t worry! I’ll try to guide you and share my thoughts.

STEP 1 Choose your general style

I roughly divide all sims blogs that I see on my dashboard into a couple of so-called styles. I’ve been doing it in my mind for ages. I like following different people and seeing diferent editing. None of them are better than others. I hope you understand that it’s just a matter of liking. Ok, here we go. Let me put this sorting hat on you :D

1. Realistic 

Screenshot by @luchiatores

Perhaps, it’s the most important thing that you should decide for yourself. Wether you should use realistic textures in your game or you’d prefer to stick to more cartoonish maxis match ones. Why is it so important, to my mind? I like things that match. Just imagine game Witcher 3 where characters and surroundings are realistic. And now imagine Minecraft where things are pixelated. Both games are great, both games have certain beautiful styles. And now imagine Geralt hunting for monsters in a pixelated Minecraft swamp. A bit strange, isn’t it? :D The same applies to Sims. If you put a super realistic skintone on your sim and put a Maxis ponytail, that would probably look strange too. If you choose this style, just try to dig for a good quality content, start following simblrs in this style. Unfortunately, I’m not an expert when it comes to realistic content. So, try to drop an ask to someone whose realistic game you like. There are so many helpful people around in the sims community no matter what style they have :)

2. Trully Maxis Match

screenshot by @whattheskell

This is a complete opposite of a realistic style. I’ve always called people who use a lot of original maxis textures “trully maxis” :D If you can decorate a house without any custom content, if you like the way original hairstyles look, if you like Maxis clothes, you should go this way. From what I’ve spot after being so many years in the sims community, “trully” maxis simblr are so creative when it comes to storytelling. The stories that they write about either their sims/or maxis premades are so breathtaking. So much drama, so much fun. The only thing that I write about my screenshots is “Ok, this is my cat! Look, it can eat flowers and puke afterwardst! Yay! Cute”. If you choose this way, I can recommend you to check out @holleyberry, @didilysims or @moocha-muses. Obviously there are a lot more blogs that I follow. These people are just so sweet and helpful and they’re first who came to my mind. 

3. Bright Maxis Matchery

screenshot by @muupi

This is where I refer myself to. This style is still Maxis but what stands out is the use of bright colours and saturated photoshopped pictures. Ah, my love for overedited pictures is endless <3 This is what I’m going to talk a lot below since it’s my cup of tea. It’s all about colours and pallete addiction. If you love looking at super bright/silly/cheery screenshots and they boost up your mood, than join the squad! 

Basically, Maxis match (I’ll just shorten for MM from now on) players avoid super shiny skins or hair textures and prefer to have content with Simlish letters instead of English ones. This is a very important factor for me when I choose paintings or prints for T-shirts. I don’t know, I feel like it’s so cute that sims can’t understand our languages, talk this funny gibberish simlish language. It’s cute! There are so so many people that I can recommend. @lina-cherie @keoni-chan @kahlenas They are first who came to my mind <3

4. Grungy/cosmic

screenshot by @lilithpleasant 

I don’t know if these are suitable words :D But this is how I describe people’s game who like aliens/supernatural sims/grungy textures with or without bright colours as well. Just think would you prefer a bit of a grungy stuff or less-textured but cleaner MM? You always need to think about textures while you download stuff. I can recommend to check out @pooklet or @furbyq-sims 

5. Semi

screenshot by @whysim 

You might ask me “Why am I not allowed to put a realistic skintone on a maxis sim? What the hell?” Of course, you are! Do it please, if you want. There are no rules, no restrictions. You CAN go semi-realistic, you CAN mix patterns, you CAN mix colours. There’s only one rule: please, enjoy what you do. Don’t be afraid to share your pictures on the Internet. There will always be people who can judje your style and say: “meh, it’s too dull, meh, it’s too bright, meh, too shiny, meh, too plain meh, meh, meh”. Just don’t pay attention and enjoy your game. As for semi-realistic I can recommend such wonderful people as @marvelann @lilith-sims @falkii @knowledgeaspiration 

A bit about my style: I’ve always loved cartoonish/bright style. I’ve never ever played with shiny textures. Before Tumblr era I just played either without CC or with a bunch of maxis recolours. How I came up with the idea of cartoonishness? Pretty simple. It’s a part of my personality, I think :) I’ve always loved Disney/Pixar movies. Cartoons just make life a lot funnier! They make me happy. I’m a pre-school teacher after all :D. You can’t imagine how many cartoons I’ve watched throughout my life. I can quote Peppa Pig and will never be tired of that :D Before Tumblr I just played some funny legacies (I’ve never finished any though :D) When I found out about Tumblr, and such great content that can make my game even more Disney looking, it just blew my mind! Every time when I download stuff, I imagine that I’m watching a Disney/Pixar or whatever studio cartoon. When I create sims, I feel like I’m a cartoon designer. Pretty silly, right? :D 

Let’s take a look at my screenshots from the past. I tried to find similar ones with a lot of greenery.

2014

2021

I stil like a lot of greenery. Editing has changed, photo angles have changed. But bright colours and Maxis stuff are forever in my heart <3

Risa (2014)

Gage (2021) 

As I’m a big cartoon addict, I love recreating game/anime/cartoon characters. No matter, if they’re my favourite or requested ones. I love when my sims have different traits. I love when they’re funny looking/clumsy/absent-minded or when they’re evil/supernatural. When they are pirates/detectives/vampires or witches. This is my way of playing Sims. I love this game as it gives us possibilities to show your creativity, a chance to recreate our favourite characters. A chance to be a writer of storylines or if you’re bad at telling stories, just being “a cartoon designer” like me :)

STEP 2 Colour palettes

If you’ve chosen the path of “bright maxis matchery” than colour palettes are super important! Oh, you can’t imagine how addicted I am to certain colours. I can download GBs because of it.

Here are some of my favourite colour palettes:

1. Anna’s colours

My absolutely favourite palette. I would download absolutely anything in these pretty colours. Just looking at them makes me so cozy *0* There’s a photoshop action for those who want to recolour CC in this palette.

2. Poppet’s colours

I especially like the latest one. So pretty! @poppet-sims is the queen of lovely recolours. She has some more palettes. But “Back to Basics is my favourite”

3. Eversims colours

@eversims has got a lot of pretty colour palettes. But the most iconic one is Ever So Lovely

So, these are the basic colours that I like downloading furniture/clothes with. 

There are a couple more pretty palettes that I like:

Huning’s Pony Colours

Back in the days it was my ultimate favourite one. But these days I edit my pictures in Photoshop excessively and prefer calmer colours and add bright layers in photoshop instead.

Nyren’s Kosmic Colours

If you’re more into pastels, than try to download some stuff in this pretty palette.

You might wonder if I use all of these colours. Of course not! I have a selection of colours that I use: apple green, sky blue, yellow, red, pink, orange, purple, teal, mint. I absolutely love combining 2 or 3 of these in my interior shots. I also love choosing my sims’ favourite colours and dressing them/decorating their bedroom in this certain colour(s).

For example, my sim Mia likes apple green/purple and mint.

I think @deedee-sims can relate. While I prefer choosing a favourite colour per sim, she chooses favourite colour for the whole family!

This is a great idea, I think! :)

STEP 4 Bodyshop stuff

Ok, I hope it’s clear that I’m colour palettes addicted, now let’s move onto actual custom content and what I prefer adding to my game. I decided to divide CC by sections. Let’s start with Bodyshop.

4.1 Skintones

Another important thing that you need to choose for yourself. There are tones ofoptions. I’m going to recommend only MM skins as obviously I have no idea which realistic or semi-realistic ones are high quality.

screenshot by @deedee-sims

If you prefer trully maxis skintones, I recommend you to try Leh’s skintones. It’s super close to original ones in terms of shades. Also look at those button noses! These cute noses is the reason why I started using this skin back in 2014. But later I switched to Lilith’s feather as I wanted more variety and those noses there got a lovely shine.

It was my default skin for a lot of years. These days I own every possible skintone by Lilith and various blends by other people.

Lilith’s Alien Flavor

Lilith’s Android Skin Edit

Lilith’s Apple Pie Skinblend v.2

Lilith’s Apple Pie Skinblend

Lilith’s Apple Pie by Kahlena

Lilith’s Feather Skinblend

Lilith’s Feather Skins 

Lilith’s Feather by Sim-Strangers

Lilith’s Feathers Colourful by Berrynooboos

Lilith’s Honey Supernatural Custom

Lilith’s Honey with freckles

Lilith’s Honey with no freckles

Lilith’s Honey Unnatural by Berrynooboos

Pixel-danger-sims pastel skins

Here’s a very handy set-up by Vimpse with Lilith’s skins being townified.

Try to choose one set of skins or download all of them by one certain creator. I need a lot of skins because I love creating tones of sims and I want to make them various looking.

4.2 Eyes

 ♦  Polaroid ♦ - my favourite

♦ Transcendental ♦

♦ Sleeping Lion ♦

♦  Sharp Eyes ♦

♦ Shallowed in the Sea ♦

♦ Hand Outs and Punch Ups ♦

These are just some of my eyes. There are some more by Poppet, by Kahlena. And I have various addons to these sets that I grabbed over and here. I remember having struggles of choosing only one set. But than I thought: why do I have to choose if I like all of them and want my sims to look as different as possible? I just love when they are cartoonish but high-quality with nice white clean sclera. Just look at Disney Rapunzel. You’ll see what I mean ^_^

There’s one little trick that most mm players do for making sims’ eyes bigger and rounder - adding a whiteline eyeliner by jesstheex. I personaly do it for every single sim of mine.

4.3 Makeup

I use tooooons of blushes, lipsticks and eyeshadows. I have everything by Lilith and Jesstheex. And lots of bits and bobs by various creators. I love using both matte or shiny textures. I sometimes add nose shine or use special nosemasks. There are various lovely things in my collection. What I can recommend you is to download a sim that you like by another creator with the help of Sims Clean Installer and just steal makeup from the sim to add to your collection *evil laughter* I recommend to do it because sometimes there are some mouth corners or various eyebags and etc which are difficult to find. It’s easier to grab them together with sims.

For example, I grabbed the shiny nosemasks from one of Lilith’s sims.

Sometimes I like adding a bit of shine on Sims’ noses. Some sims of mine don’t have shine. It really depends on a sim. But what I definitely like is cute button noses! I like using nosemasks to achieve that. I have all the masks by Lilith and these ones by kahlena.

4.4 Hair textures

Another important decision for you is the hair textures. I recommend you to choose one certain retexture. Back in the days, I used to have Remi’s textures

screenshot by @selenaq13 

I liked Remi’s ones because they were non-shiny. They had maxis colours and a really cool yellowish blonde! 

Receintly I switched to Simgarooped as I’ve always loved that there are 6 naturals. The yellowish blonde is still there! Plus my favourite Deedee-sims keeps updating every week with the retextures of new meshes <3

There are lots of various textures blends. Just search, download, play test. Think, if you’re ready to look at such type of hair hours of simming.

Also try to decide if you’d like to have more natural looking sims or go crazy and have supernatural/aliens. I used to have really bright sims with colourful skins and hairs.

Even my toddlers had unnatural hairs. It’s a lot of fun! But right now I prefer to create more natural looking sims though I like vampires/witches/aliens anyways!

screenshot by @honeylungsims 

If you would like to have colourful supernatural sims, check out Honeylung! She has the brightest and most unusual supernatural sims <3 

You’ll need a lot of face masks/bright lips/shadows. Check out @berrynooboos​ for the cutest alien CC.

4.5 Facial hair and Brows

I don’t think they should really match as long as they look great.

For example, I use eyebrows by @suratan-zir which are super cute and high quality but use Poppet’s textures instead of Simgarooped.

As for facial hair, I use some Poppet’s as well.

by Skoogy

by Poppet #1

by Poppet #2

by Simgaroop

4.6 Clothes

As I already mentioned, I love clothes in my favourite palettes. I love Simlish prints. There are so so many creators who share wonderful clothes.

I love @deedee-sims for age conversions, shoeswaps, morphs. I love @mdpthatsme for really cool 4t2 conversions. I love @moocha-muses for colourful T-shirts <3 Don’t be shy to send me a WCIF about a certain item of clothing.

STEP 5 Buy and Build

Tooons of bright recolours, IKEA items, Maxis add-ons, 3t2 and 4t2 conversions - all these things make my heart beat :D

These days I play in a rural-type world. I download a lot of craftsman-style build things, a lot of plants and garden deco.

I love bright wallpapers and greenhouses, I love clutter and kids CC for nurseries. Patterns with polka dots and plumbobs. Sunflowers and tulips. This is what I usually drop into my download folder :)

STEP 6 Taking screenshots

No matter which recolours and textures you prefer, I think high-quality pictures are important. The first thing that you need to playtest for yourself is a camera mod. It’s upo for you, but I can’t live without Gunmod’s Camera Mod. There are some more available, just check out.

Also lighting is important since Maxis original is terrible. I use Dreadpirate’s mod. 

I recommend to take screenshots in a camera man mode. Click Tab to enter it. Use W, A,S,D,E buttons to move right/left/up/down etc. And what’s important, use X and Z for zooming in and out. I always use Z for example, when I take close ups of my cats.

Don’t be afraid to experiment with angles. Try some artistic ones.

You can move your camera down and take a screen from below.

Or vice versa from above.

Sometimes I’ll just take a screen of my sims’ hands or feet. It really depends. I love spending hours on just “walking” in a camera mod around my sims houses.

Another useful feature of this mod is to use Ctrl +4,5,6,7,8,9 buttons.

These can fix the angles for you. And after fixing them, when you click on 4,5,6,7,8,9 you camera will go back to those positions. It’s very handy when you want to screen 2 sims who are talking and there’s no need to constatntly move camera from sidde to side. Just fix it and wait for them to perform cute emotions!

As a bonus, you can fic positions in the life mode too. For example, I always choose a proper angle from above where the wgole house can be seen. And wait for something cute/funny/to happen.

Also there’s such a thing as The Rule of Thirds. It’s the rule of photography composition. I always try to follow it :)

STEP 7 Photoshop Editing

I love oversaturated colours. It can be too much for someone’s eyes, but I like the brightness :) I’ll share some good Photoshop resources. Probably, one thing that I can recommend to absolutely everyone no matter how bright you want your screens to be is sharpening! Seems that Tumblr eats our picture quality for breakfast. Sims screenshots seem so blurry to me. I love sharpening them first.

I use sharpening from Kalekaloo’s action.

After sharpening I run the base from Eversims Action and then add some colour layers from Simburgerr’s one (I like gradients and fluffy lights layers especially). It makes the reds colours a little bit too saturated but I think it’s cute!

There are a some more cute actions and PSD files out there:

OhMySims - Action 1

OhMySims - Action 2

Sterina’s Action

Photoshop PSDs by Pleyita

Snapdragoned PSD

Mandragore PSD by Kiinuu

JellyBeanery’s Action

Roguebotanist

Nnilou - 12:51

A generic PSD by Knowledgeaspiration

Colorize IT by Bonnypixels

Colour Crush by Bonnypixels

Just Like Heaven by Pixeldemographics

For more tips/palettes/cute fonts I recommend you to check out @bepixeled

That’s all that came to my mind. I hope at least something was useful!

[uwuwriting]

Having a girl with an aesthetic w/ Shinsou, Aizawa and Bakugou

Request: Shinsou with an e-girl gf, Aizawa with a dark academia wife and Bakugou with an angelcore or cottagecore girl, please and thank you. - anonymous.

Yall, dark academia is my best friends’ and mine aesthetic and its so pleazing. Like god damn. Angelcore is amazing so soft and uwu. Do I even have to say anything fir e-girls? No, I would just do them an injustice. Love ya and sorry for the inactivity. 

masterlist 

rules

warnings: none I think. 

Shinsou Hitoshi 

-Yall match. 

-Like he wears dark brooding colors, mainly shades of purple to match his hair and maybe some greens while you on the other hand always have a black and red combo or some sort of stripped item of clothing. 

-You share beanies. 

-It has become an unspoken rule that you two will always go for beanie shopping every october. 

-Your style kinda changes according to the month. 

-Like during september you wearing mainly greys to match your sour mood bc school, during october since its spooky season you wear oranges and purples matching your boyfriend perfectly while January and December are red months. 

-Those are his favorite. 

-Red brings out the color of your lips making you look even more fearsome and badass, turning him on in the process. 

-Yes I said it, Shinsou will beg for red lipstick. 

-He’s semi worried for your hair. 

-You keep changing it and he doesn’t mind when you cut it, oh no he finds your bangs or pixie cut adorable. 

-He is worried when you change colors like you chnage clothes. 

-He liked all your phases. 

-The skank stripe and half-half ones  being his favorites but he will ask you to tone it down a bit give your hair some time to rest and regain their strength. 

-Yall paint your nails. 

-You will spend endless hours in his room just painting each others nails and doing face masks. 

-It brings out his edgy lord side, the nail polish. 

-As if the dark circles and that constant ominous look on his face doesn’t do it. 

-But you love it. 

-He looks so content when you two are just sitting there listening to trash rap songs and taking care of each other. 

-He loves it when you wear skirts with thigh highs. 

-Actually you can’t wear those anymore bc once he sees you you can’t really walk anywhere afterwards....

-He is all about your chains and chokers. 

-Like give him some he is jealous. 

-Baby really be thriving while dawning those fake silver chains. 

-If you are interested in more intracate make up he loves being your test subject and just lets you transform his face into whatever deity you want. 

-Tends to scroll through your tik tok because its full of witch toks and very very interesting cosplays and makeup stuff. 

-Somehow he found himself into anti trump tik tok and he cant get out..... then his fyp shifted to draco tok and he just gave up. 

- “Are you cheating on me with Draco Malfoy?”

- “Baby-”

- “Because I don’t blame you.” 

-Deadass has a whole folder on his laptop with couples outfits he wants to recreate at some point. 

-He’s just so wholesome. 

Aizawa Shouta 

-He really can’t understand how he managed to get such a fashion icon of a wife. 

-I mean have you seen the way this man dresses? 

-Head empty just Aizawa with pink sweatpants.

-Yeah so he really doesn’t get it how he managed that but he isn’t complaining. 

-I mean have you seen the dark academia aesthitic. 

-It gives Maraurders vibes and we stan. 

-He loves it when you wear long coats and those scarfs.

-They make you look like such a lady and so sophisticated and he lives for it. 

-He really likes the plaid skirts and pants, makes him think that he is living with an English lady or maybe a philosophy teacher. 

-Have I mentioned how much he adores your vintage book obsession?

-Going to old bookstores together and just browsing through the poetry books or the fantsy novels has become one of his favorite past times. 

-He tries to somewhat keep up with you but he struggles. 

-He really has no fashion sense but he wants to try for you. 

- “Honey you don’t have to dress up for me! I love you just the way you are.” 

-He loves you so much like omggggg!!!!

-Anyways. 

-Rainy days have become book dates where you just snuggle up together on the couch in a large fluffy brown blanket and you both have a book in your hands reading away. 

-He loves the little expressions you make when you are reading something interesting or staright up crazy. 

-He bought you your very own round -Harry-Potter-style glasses for your birthday. 

-You had been going on and on for some months now about how you wanted to go and buy a pair but you never got around to it. 

-Being a teacher at UA and a hero is kinda hard and a busy job so we get you. 

-You were so excited when he gave them to you. 

-Um for Halloween you two went as James Potter and Sirius Black. 

-He has the hair, okay maybe he is lacking that care free and cocky attitude but visually he does a good job.

-Seeing him in that suit oh boy. 

-Really your realationship is just full of Harry Potter references since you are kinda obsessed with that Era, especially the Marauders. 

-Hizashi is lowkey jealous because he could never get AIzawa to dress nicely. 

-You are special though!!

-You are the wife

-He does what you tell him to in reality. 

-He’s kinda wrapped around your finger. 

Bakugou Katsuki

-He gets flustered so easily.

-Like your aesthetic is so soft and angelic and compared to him people think you have a corruption kink. 

-He kinda feels bad bc when you dress like something god sent it because painfully clear how opposites you are. 

-He sees his rough edges and rude behavior more than usual and he may become self concious. 

-You will have to reassure him and remind him that this is a facade and that he knows your true evil nature. 

-You are a true menace.

-ANyone trying to fuck with your friends or your boyfriend? 

-They are getting round house kicked and yeeted out a window. 

-Back to your aesthetic. 

-Whenever he seas something pastel or colorful he wants to immediately buy it. 

-Especially pastel stuff.

-Pastel is your whole thing. 

-Pastel pinks, blues, purples, and greens. 

-He will buy anything, from a headband to a purse to a very very cute plaid skirt. 

-Kirishima and Denki are always so confused when he comes back to the common room with a few bags from womens’ clothing stores. 

-He never answers their questions of course. 

-He likes watching you make mood boards and create matching outfits. 

-Trying clothes in fornt of him is a must, a small fashion show taking place in your room every Friday night. 

-He likes to believe that you truly are an angel. 

-Your aesthetic is a combination of angelcore and cottage core so your room is split into two sides.

-One side full of plants while the other had pastel mood boards. 

-So pleasing. 

-You tried to shift him into your aesthetic once. 

-AND IT WAS ATRAUMATIZING EXPERIENCE.

-He looked so good in white and soft yellow but his mood was so so foul.

 -He had made you agree to never a) bring this up and b) try this again. 

-You have taken some photos though so not eveyrthing was lost. 

-You will never tell him that you have evidence of his cottage core moment. 

TAG TEAM AY:

@iwaqchan​ @the-arcana-fan-fic​ @angelwritings​ @axerrri​ @reinyrei​ @dnarez-mangetsu​ @bemorefiction​

[alfredosauce50]

From a past life [Yandere vampire! Romania x reader]

Synopsis: For centuries, he waited for your return--your rebirth. So when he finally learns of your whereabouts just outside of Wallachia, he rushes to meet you in hopes of becoming what you both used to be. But he runs into a predicament when he learns you're in a relationship with a man, a pesky human mortal by the name of Daniel. He'll do anything to get rid of him, even if he has to play dirty. He made a promise to you that he would find you for the rest of your lifetimes, so God forbid that he breaks it. Wordcount: 3, 813 The reader is referred to as she/her.

A trip to Romania had always been on your bucket list. Your boyfriend was just as excited to go, but he wouldn’t have been if it turned out to be the last trip you'd ever go on with him.

Today was when you would visit the highlight of your itinerary. On the Transylvania side of the border with Wallachia, and nestled in miles of rolling hills, was Bran castle. The awe-inspiring fortress told one of the most famous tales of old as Count Dracula's abode. Or at least, it was rumored to be as it fit the description of it.

Needless to say, you were dragging him around the estate to admire anything and everything that piqued your interest or served as a potential photo spot. “Oh, hurry up, Daniel! This is where he slept!” Scrambling closer to the grand bed, which was certainly framed with more wood than needed, you leaned in behind the red rope that fenced off the artifact. Then, you flashed him a wide grin.

He returned the gesture with a tender smile of his own. “I'm as old as this castle, kicsim. Let me take things in slowly.”

“You're only three years older than me. I don't think you have the right to call me little or yourself old.” Flattening your lips at that, your frown melted away as quickly as it appeared.

“But look! Dracula's sheets and mattress. Though it would make more sense to say it was Vlad's... The guy he was based on. Hmm, but that wouldn't make sense either.”

The man rubbed the nape of his neck with a soft laugh. It was no doubt he shared your enthusiasm, but your unapologetic passion always made him fall harder than he already had. “Yep. I believe he was imprisoned here. I don't think he'd be getting the master bedroom.” He appeared from behind and rested himself on your head as you placed a pistol grip on your chin.

“Even then, I can't imagine him sleeping so soundly after sticking so many sticks up people's--” Two strong arms squeezed around your waist to make you gasp.

“Ah-!”

“Okay! What do you say we go down to the gardens for a walk, hm?”

And that was exactly what the two of you did. Skipping out in front of him, you held onto his hands and swung his arms. “I'm gonna go down to the pond, okay? You can enjoy this place nice and slowly like the old person you are.”

This was the greenest garden you ever had the pleasure to stroll through, even the tea house blended in with its moss-covered roof. It only emphasized how ancient this castle really was, and something about it delighted you in ways you couldn't articulate.

“Alright, kicsim. I'll see what nice flowers I'll add to my hair.” Daniel scooped the pink blossom from his hazel brown bangs and placed it behind your ear. “When I do, I'll come get you. Don't let any vampires find you before I do.” Shooting you a wink at that, you pecked him on the nose before running off.

Who would have thought those words would ring truer than he intended? Several miles away, slept a man who was as old as Bran castle. His name too was Vlad, though he never earned such a fearsome reputation by impaling his enemies. Instead, he kept a low profile and dedicated his long, neverending life to finding someone.

Every restless night, she was what he dreamed of since her passing.

When I go, promise me you'll find me again.

Promise me.

Fluttering his eyes awake, they glowed a blood-red in the darkness of his bedroom. They drooped with a tiredness that never seemed to go away no matter how much he rested.

Sliding off the mattress, he folded the flaps of his robes tightly around his body before making his way into the halls. Every corner of this humble countryside cottage he called his home was enshrouded with shadows, and not to mention the thick coating of dust caking the top of every shelf, couch, and tabletop.

He hadn't cleaned this house for centuries. His will to try withered away through the years in his lonesome, but he was patient. Peeking through the gap between the curtains of his overgrown hair, his irises shrunk as the blinding daylight poured into them through the drapes of his living room window. He could feel it in his dead still heart.

Something had changed.

Out there in the world scorched by the sun, was something even warmer. And it was so familiar, so tender, he could not mistake it for anything else, or anybody else for that matter.

She was nearby, and the thought filled him to the brim with a joy so potent, tears of relief welled in his wide eyes. He had waited hundreds of years for this moment. For her return. Her rebirth that would usher in his own.

The prospect was so invigorating, he felt as if his heart began to beat again. He never felt so alive. Scurrying back to his bedroom, he sat in front of his vanity to access his appearance. He had to look presentable before meeting her, hadn't he? A bedhead like this and nightwear would simply not do.

Especially when he hadn't cut his hair for at least twenty years.

Giving his long locks of strawberry-blonde a thorough comb, he let it fall straight down to his lower back. With a few quick snips, he shortened his bangs by a few inches to give the impression he had some sort of control over an otherwise uncontrollable mane of hair.

As he shed himself of his robes in exchange for day clothes, a white dress shirt paired with dark plaid pants, one singular thought repeated in his head like a broken record. As morbid as it sounded, it was more of a Godsend than anything.

Death was never the end. Not for her, and not for him. Or rather, a new beginning.

But it didn't start the way he imagined. Following her sweet scent to the gardens of the famed Bran castle, he found the smell growing more and more pungent, albeit confused. It was mixed with another's, tainted by the stench of a human male. His irises thinned to slits, and he tensed up all over. How could this be?

Hiding behind a tree, he peered over the side to confirm his suspicion.

There she was, her beauty as pristine and untouched as the last time he loved her. For just one second, he was over the moon. But his euphoria was short-lived when he saw that she was with a man. Kissing him, even. Even though it was just on the nose, any further down her face would have caused him to start an apocalypse.

That insignificant, trifling, and scheming little creature. He was about to reap what he sowed. How dare he take his place? It was him she was meant to with, not that pesky mortal!

Whipping his head to the front, his eyes went round with disbelief and his breathing grew ragged. An unfathomable ache spread in his chest as he dug his nails into the bark. How could he have let this happen? It took every shred of his willpower to keep the waterworks at bay.

His throbbing heart was also weighed down with a pang of heavy guilt. To allow another soul to be this close to her was a grave disservice to the promise he made. But that didn't mean he couldn't undo this.

In just a few seconds, he formulated an intricate plan to carry out well-deserved revenge. To have her in his arms again, and him, out of the picture where he belonged. In the blink of an eye, he appeared behind the man and tapped him on the shoulder. When he spun around, he grabbed him by the neck and caught him in a trance with his hypnotizing, inhuman gaze.

“You will give these flowers to the nearest young woman you see. Put them in her hair and kiss her on the lips.” Opening his own palm, he materialized three peonies before placing them in the other's.

Unable to escape the powerful snare cast by a vampire such as himself, Daniel did so as told. “I will give these flowers to the nearest young woman I see. I will put them in her hair and kiss her on the lips.” He reiterated monotonously with his eyes glazed over.

Watching the helpless man saunter off, he smirked devilishly as he exchanged glances with his long-lost lover. This would hurt her a great deal, but she would only be devastated if he never did it.

You had been watching the pond, completely ignorant to the scene that was about to unfold. Little did you know, it was purposely orchestrated. Using a stick to prod at your reflection, you lingered on the ripples distorting it before glancing up. In the distance was none other than your boyfriend, and judging from the pink in his hands, he found his flowers.

So you stood up. You would have snuck up on him as a surprise, but your feet remained firmly planted on the ground when you witnessed him give it away, then flirt with another woman. It couldn't be mistaken for anything else. He was kissing her!

Frankly, you couldn't believe it. One year was all it took for him to lose interest? Blood flushed your face as bile rose in your throat. How could he? And during a vacation at that, too! Tears threatened to spill out of your eyes, but you blinked them away when you heard the light treading of feet nearby.

This had to be a misunderstanding. Right?

Spinning to the source, you found yourself staring at the most peculiar man you had ever seen. He carried a delicate parasol to shade him from the sunlight. Combined with his pasty white skin, it was almost as if he was one of the very mythological creatures the country was renowned for.

He smiled gently, almost understandingly.

“Are you alright, domnișoară? I have a spare handkerchief if you'd like.” His alluring voice was as bewitching as a siren, but his mere presence brought you unspeakable comfort. And yet, he was nothing but a stranger, an odd one at that, so you were at a loss to realize that all it took for you to gravitate towards him was for your eyes to meet.

“I'm okay, thank you. But I couldn't possibly accept something like that. I mean, I don't know you...” Waving your hands at the man apologetically, you took the opportunity to scan him up and down.

As if he walked right out of a fairytale, he oozed prince-like charm. His clothes were traditional and refined, but that long, silky hair of his was certainly a rare sight--rare but breathtakingly beautiful. It gave his character untold notions of grandeur, mystery, and an inexplicable impression he was ancient.

But that couldn't be, not when he didn't look a day over twenty.

“What do you mean, you won't take it? It's yours.” He pulled out a small piece of fabric from his sleeve. Placing the finely embroidered cloth into your palm, he never gave you the chance to object. “It would be rude to regift something, so you'll have to keep it forever.” Mischief curled at his lips, and you couldn't help but laugh a little.

“Alright, alright, you got me there.”

You dabbed away the moisture before breathing out a sigh.

“I'm sure you're a very nice person, but I can't bother you more than I already have. Thank you, again, Mr. Vampire.” If it weren't for how heartbroken you were, you would have been mortified. Being pitied by a Romanian local was never part of your plan.

Just when you were betrayed by Daniel, he appeared like a knight in shining armor. If only you could forget what happened between you and your boyfriend. Otherwise, you would be bragging about meeting a vampire in Romania for as long as you could talk.

“Mr. Vampire?” He lifted his head before revealing a pair of sharp fangs in a grin. Now that caught you off guard. “You don't see me calling you miss human--and I have a name, thank you very much.” As he placed his gloved hand on his chest to playfully feign offense, he bit back another smile at the sound of your amused giggling.

Despite what happened a few minutes ago, talking to this actor was making you feel better already.

“And let me guess, is it Alucard?” You shook your head. “Or is it Vlad? You can't possibly call yourself Dracula looking like that.”

He blinked incredulously, then curved an arm over his face as if to cover himself with his non-existent cloak. “How did you know?”

“That your name is Alucard?”

“No, Vlad.”

“Okay, close enough. It was nice meeting you, Vlad, but I have a stupid boyfriend to scream at.” At the mention of that, you looked like you were on the verge of tears again. “All I'm hoping is that he's still my boyfriend after this. If only he were as much of a gentleman as you.”

He reflected your distress in a frown, and you would have been surprised by how much this apparently bothered him. But you already walked off. So he offered one last niceity before you strayed too far. “Good luck with your boyfriend.”

“No promises.”

He let those two words affect him more than he intended. Needless to say, he moved on quickly to watch you run to the unsuspecting brunette. Soon, his anguish was staved off by the sight of you shoving him back a few steps.

What looked like a one-sided argument broke out, and all the poor, confused man could do was just that--be confused. Shortly after, you stormed off, and he jogged behind, desperately calling your name.

A sinister smile cracked at Vlad's lips, and his irises glowed red. That little thing had no idea what was yet to happen to him.

That night, Daniel took you to the Brașov city hall for dinner. The beautiful buildings surrounding a fountain were as traditional as they were clean. Too bad your zeal was burned away by your anger. In the few hours in the hotel before, he barely managed to soothe it by explaining himself. A given, considering his explanation made no sense whatsoever.

He couldn't remember flirting with a woman.

“I think we could share a pizza. Are you okay with that?” Lifting his gaze to meet yours, you only turned away to stare out the window into the endless night. Your spaciness was deserved on his part, but little did he know, it only had so much to do with his wrongdoings.

The eccentric local never left your mind. After all, he gave you something to smile about with his whimsical kindness.

Vlad must have been an entertainer, a virtuoso at that, but his actions never came off as ingenuine. To be frank, you were drawn to his sincerity, and even looking for him subconsciously, wishing that he could magically appear because you willed it.

If only Daniel could be just as sincere.

“I must be okay with a lot of things.” His face fell. The same sorrow from when he was at the hotel room returned, but you couldn't care to give it any attention. “Like you pretending you didn't kiss someone right in front of me because you don't remember. I'm not stupid. Who else would have long hair tied back and flowers in their fringe?”

Daniel knitted his brows so tightly together, creases formed between them. “... I know it sounds like I'm lying, but I swear to you I didn't do it. You know me, (F/N).” At this point, he hadn't the foggiest what to say to appease you because he simply didn't do it. “I promise. All I'm asking is for you to trust me.”

“You promise?” You fumed.

There was only one thing you hated more than a liar.

“I trusted you, Daniel, I really did. But how could you ask me to trust you after I talked to that girl? She remembered it, so why can't you? Did you think I was that crazily into you I could let anything slide?” The biting truth silenced him, but it was the sound of you choking back tears that broke his heart.

“I'm gonna go to the bathroom to think this over.”

He had no way to argue with you, let alone the heart to when it was just broken and crushed to a thin slab of flesh. What if he really did kiss someone, and miraculously forgot?

“When I come back, I better not see you kissing anybody again.”

Standing up at that, he watched you leave with a defeated expression. Then, he folded his arms across the table and buried his face into it. There was no way he could fail that, could he?

What were the odds of kissing someone again when he had absolutely no intention to? The chances were dwindling at zero as he kept his head down. Unless supernatural forces were at work, nothing could get him to budge from sitting at this table.

But even he couldn't count on the world of the mundane to save him.

Sitting a few tables away was the exact opposite of mundane. When the front door slammed shut, he stood up and walked to the customer with their head down. While all the men in the establishment wore their hair short, his was long and flowing like time itself. There was something other-worldly about him. Something ghostly in the way he walked.

With every step he took, his feet never seemed to touch the ground as if he was floating. And his pale complexion was just as macabre as how he carried himself.

Not a minute passed, and Daniel found himself standing outside by the fountain. With absolutely no recollection, he somehow left the restaurant and wound up here in the festive courtyard. As shock paralyzed him from head to toe, the only thought that occurred to him was this. What in the hell was going on?

Rather than sitting head down in the warm restaurant, he was out here, chilled by the biting European cold. Couldn't he have at least remembered the transition?

In front of him was the same woman he supposedly flirted with in the gardens. And judging from the blush on her cheeks, he just threw away all his chances at making up with you.

“Listen, I... I don't know you. Forget me. Forget this ever happened.” Daniel trembled, feeling a chill run down his spine as he staggered back a few steps. It was like a nightmare he couldn't wake up from. There was just no sound explanation for this when this situation wasn't sound at all. Whatever it was, this was clearly a case of sabotage.

And like hell he was giving in to whoever that masterminded it.

He ran back inside with a fearful kind of urgency. Rushing back to the table he unwillingly abandoned, he froze when he saw you marching towards him down the aisle with murder on your mind. But death was too lenient a punishment. It would grant him a clean slate, a new beginning from a past life of unfaithfulness.

So he was splashed with a glass of red wine instead.

As the crimson liquid soaked his hair, it spread over his shirt like blood. After you saw what he did, the last shred of hope you didn't know you had died, squelched out there on his clothes for the world to see. A chorus of gasps was heard from every corner of the restaurant. Unbeknownst to the patrons who murmured amongst themselves, it wasn't just any lover's quarrel they were watching.

Daniel's breath hitched as he struggled to process his mortification. Behind you stood the very gentleman that tapped him awake, but he never made the connection between him and his misfortunes.

And perhaps, it was better that way.

After leaving your boyfriend for good, Vlad offered to walk with you around the city. Once again, he had swooped in to save you, only this time around, he was staying.

“So... What are you gonna do now?” He asked, casting a tender gaze your way. Before you could wrap your arms around yourself, he beat you to it and flung his cloak around your body. When you gawked at him, he only grinned toothily with his fangs.

Your cheeks reddened and you turned away. Why he was still in his vampire getup was beyond you. But seeing his enthusiasm only reminded you that you lost yours. “... Book another hotel room. Spend the rest of this holiday crying. Maybe never think of this country ever again.”

“And I'm not letting you do any of those things.” He hummed, giving you a gentle squeeze. “Why do you think I'm walking with you right now, hm? I'm gonna take you around to the best spots in Transylvania. The most haunted ones, I mean. So you can forget about going back to the hotel.”

You sighed but managed a small smile. “That's great and all, but I'm not made of money. And my stuff is all there.”

He squinted. “... Oh yeah. But after we get your stuff, we can go elsewhere, can't we?”

A few laughs fell from your lips. His generosity really knew no bounds. “Your house, then? You do realize I only met you today, right?”

Vlad closed his eyes. He could beg to differ.

“But you're still walking with me alone. In the dark.”

“Only because you saw me cry twice today. I wouldn't be mad if you killed me so I don't have to be so embarrassed.” He frowned at the sound of that, so you added this. “I was just kidding. Something about you just makes me feel... Strangely comfortable. Like I've met you before. Isn't that weird?”

“... Not really.” Reaching the top of a hill, he stared at an old castle in the distance, sitting high up in the mountains. “There's a legend about this city. Hundreds of years ago, a vampire and a human woman fell in love. She died, of course. But people say he's still around, waiting for her to reincarnate so they can be together again.”

The way he spoke was so sad, it was almost as if he was that very vampire himself. But what did that have to do with you?

“... Okay. Then do you think he'll ever find her?”

Vlad turned to you with an unreadable expression, but there was an untold fondness in how he looked at you.

“He already has.”

[thatweeboverthereisthirsty]

OK so I got this idea. S/o (who's this time has to be female) is also an octo mermaid but still from another world. So s/o gets into one of the pools and they discover she's a blanket octopus (if you haven't seen a female blanket octopus they're one of the most beautiful octopus out there with their gradient colors) and they get popular af like everyone is like "wow she's such a beautiful meroctopus" Yada yada. And Azul it's mad. Part 1

Part 2. And both Jade and Floyd notice it and decide to tell s/o who is shocked and sad because they have a HUGE crush so they decided to give him a gift. Since they know he doesn't have a octopus pot they decide to make him one. After months they give it to him and confess and he's shocked and ask for their forgiveness as it isn't their fault. At the end he and s/o cuddle inside of the octo pot in their mer forms.

OMG THIS TOOK ME FOREVER!!!! I probably got this ask before thanksgiving so I am very sorry that it took me this long, HOWEVER, it is the longest oneshot I have ever written so that’s quite an accomplishment. There are photo references that go with this story as well so check those out before you read. 

Warnings: Slight language, insecurities, fluff, very very minor angst, fem!s/o

Word count: 4,710

Azul x Reader: Cuddle Pot

The above images are references for the s/o’s octopus species and the octopus pot. I don’t know who the original artist is for the second so if you know please let me know so I can give credit where due.

   “Wait seriously? You’re a mermaid!” Ace practically shrieks and you giggle. Placing a finger to your lips, you shush him as Deuce slaps the back of your over energetic friend’s head. 

   “Yes. I am a mermaid, but you can’t tell anyone yet.”

   “Why not?” Jack questions. His tail flicks in confusion.

   You sigh and think back to the last time anyone found out about your true form. Most of the people back in your world found merpeople to be odd and cursed. It was considered a disability and a disease. Human society often shunned what they didn’t understand. And that lack of understanding led to fear. 

   A boy in your old school had been your middle school sweetheart for approximately 7 months before you decided to tell him your secret. He had seemed so eager to finally go swimming with you that you had naively believed that it was all going to be fine. However when he stared at your flowey, shimmering form you felt yourself grow worried that he would no longer like you. 

   “Babe,” you started, leaning closer to try and grasp his face with your smooth, webbed fingers. “It’s alright. It’s just my merform. It’s going to-” He quickly slapped your hand away and stumbled back. 

   “F-freak, monster, disgusting. Stay away from me you animal! We’re over you deceiving B*tch!” He quickly ran away from the side of the lake where you had brought him. As dawns lovely lights sprayed your body with pinks, and soft oranges, tears slid down your cheeks and into the water below. He hated you. Oh what a fool you had been to think that he would be different, that he would love you anyway. 

   School had become increasingly difficult after that. Word spread fast and you were quickly isolated by everyone you had called a friend. Eventually you moved to a new place and decided that you would never love again.

   This wasn’t the case however in Twisted Wonderland. You were so pleasantly surprised to find people like you, and they weren’t considered freaks because of it. It had been a shock and you quickly found yourself yearning to tell others about what you truly were. Fear had you back though. At least up until that point.

   “I had a bad experience with someone I cared about back in my home world.” You stated softly. The boys looked at each other and smiled. 

   “Well this isn’t that world. You're good to go here since I can’t imagine anyone judging you for what you look like in this place.” Ace’s words reassured you.

   “He’s right. At NRC it’s highly unlikely that you’ll be bullied because of something like this. But what are you anyway?” Deuce questioned. 

   You giggled and leaned in closer to the 4 people sitting at the lunch table, (5 if you included Grimm, but he already knew). “I’m an octopus.” You said with excitement and slight nervousness.

   “Really? That sounds so cool!” Epel was quiet but excited when he spoke up for the first time since the conversation started. You smiled to yourself and mentally sighed in relief that the people you had next trusted with your secret didn’t view you any differently. 

   “Wait hold the phone. Octopus? Like Azul?” Ace pressed close enough that you could reach across with a napkin and wipe the side of his cheek that had been smeared with BBQ sauce when he scarfed his lunch.

  “Yes and no, Azul is a Common Octopus, which means that he is the standard octopus you mostly see around the ocean or in pictures. Basically what you imagine when someone says Octopus. I’m a different type of octopus, one that is more rare.” You pulled out your phone while talking to bring up an image. You held the phone so everyone at the table could see.

   “This is a female Blanket Octopus. We’re pretty rare but we are also one of the most beautiful kinds.” 

   Everyone went wide eyed and watched the screen as you scrolled through images of your fellow eight legged friends. Epel turned to you and grabbed your shoulder. 

   “You absolutely have to show us your merform.” Ace, Deuce, and Jack all nodded in agreement. You flushed and fiddled with the hem of your shirt. 

   “I don’t know guys. It would be a hassle to find a place where we could do it and I’m not sure I want anyone else seeing me. What if someone shows up and freaks out?” This time it was Jack’s turn to speak when he leaned back before smiling slightly.

   “Not that I care but I personally would show up to support you if you needed it. Besides, the school pool is closed after dark. However I’m pretty sure Ruggie has snatched a copy of every key to every lock in the building.”

   “Of course he has.” Deuce says rolling his eyes. “That hyena couldn’t keep his paws to himself even if his life depended on it.” You giggled but ignored the comment in favor of asking Jack if he could get the key. The wolf nodded and you told everyone to meet you by the pool at 9:30. Your friends nodded in agreement just as the bell rang.

----------

   The air was humid and warm, it was perfect for a late night swim, although your clothes would likely stick to your body when you changed back. Still you shifted uncomfortably at the idea of getting in the water with what you are wearing. A pair of leggings was slipped on underneath a waterproof skirt. You had a jacket over your bikini top but per usual you were unable to wear bottoms unless you wanted them to tear. You would have to be very careful not to let the skirt go up before you shifted.

   A sigh left your lips and Grimm, sensing your nervousness, rubbed up against your leg in silent comfort. Your friends were unlikely to freak out but it was still nerve wracking to think about exposing your true form to other non-merpeople. Hundreds of scenarios where something went wrong filtered through your head and promised that your anxiety wouldn’t leave anytime soon. 

  “BOO!” Half a shriek pierced the night before a hand clasped over your mouth.  

   “Shishishishishi.” You turned around in surprise and pulled the fingers away from your face.

   “Ruggie! What are you doing here?” You whisper shouted. The hyena snickered again and held up one finger. He made a circular motion and a key ring twirled around in response. 

   “Jack said you needed to get in here. Thought I’d tag along.” The smirk on his face irritated you but you couldn’t be surprised. You should have known that having Jack of all people ask for keys to break into the pool after hours was going to raise some eyebrows. Honestly you should have just asked him to invite Ruggie along anyways. Key or no key the hyena was likely to want to know what was going on. 

   “Alright fine, but if you tell anyone what you saw here today, and I mean anyone, then I will hide your piggy bank from you.” Ruggie’s eyes went wide before they narrowed.

   “You have my word.” You smiled knowing that you had convinced him to keep your secret despite the fact that if he really had told someone you wouldn’t have actually done more than try and punch him. Of all people you knew how precious money was in this world, considering the fact that you had none.

   Footsteps alerted you to the approaching presence of your other friends. You turn

around and find Jack, Epel, Ace and Deuce walking over to you. They wave and Jack frowns when he spots Ruggie.

   “What are you doing here? I thought you already gave me the key.” The hyena snickers and points towards the key Jack was holding. 

   “I gave you the one to the janitors closet, which I’m gonna need back by the way. I wanted to see what was going on for myself so I hung out here till Y/n came over, and then I figured it had to be interesting if she was involved. I didn’t know there was gonna be a crowd though.” He looked at you, “This must be one hell of a surprise if you got all the first years here.”

   Deuce pointed out that Sebek was a first year as well but the hyena shrugged it off saying “he doesn’t count as a student since he’s basically just a guard.” You figured that was Leona’s opinion and Ruggie agreed.

   “Guys it’s already late and I don’t wanna get caught so let's go in already.” Everyone nodded and Ruggie opened the gate. 

   Carefully you unzipped your jacket as you walked over to the bench. The water appeared calm and undisturbed, allowing a clear view of the illuminated bottom which was surprisingly clean considering teenage boys flung about in the water all day.

   You sighed and shrugged the jacket off before stepping out of your shoes. Setting down the bag with your extra clothes you mentally prepared yourself for what was about to happen. 

   Ruggie leaned closer to Jack and whispered something you didn’t catch but Jack’s response of “You’ll see.” was enough to tell you what had happened. Pushing your anxiety out of the way you lowered yourself into the pool, sighing as the cool water licked your skin. Giving yourself a moment to relax you let your worries leak into the water around you. You had always felt better in the water. It’s a merfolk thing.

   “Are you guys positive you won’t freak out?” You called to the edge of the pool where your friends were standing. 

   “Not unless you grow 10 heads.” Ace sniggered until Epel elbowed him. You rolled your eyes and looked suspiciously over to Ruggie who still had no idea what was going on. 

   “No promises.” You sighed, but smiled when Jack nodded at you, signaling that it would be alright. Who were you kidding Ruggie was a hyena man who grew up in the slums. What did he care? Feelings of worry taken care of, you sunk deeper into the water and closed your eyes.

   The feeling that comes with shifting is always a little strange. It’s almost like your skin has been turned to putty and it is remolding itself and when it reaches the desired outcome it snaps back into place and holds like it has been that way the whole time. 

   Once you felt the transformation had completed you righted yourself in the water and peeked an eye open to look at your friends. Ace and Epel had their mouths wide open in a gasp. One that quickly turned into a smile. Jack looked as though he had just witnessed a miracle and Deuce was still in shock. Ruggie’s reaction was by far the most extravagant. His eyes were wide and his mouth was curved into a questioning gape. He had taken several steps back and his ears lay flat on his head. Behind him his tail bristled and stood fairly straight, pushing up the too large shirt. 

   You bit your lip and examined their faces trying to come up with a conclusion to what they were feeling. 

   “That… Is so cool!” Ace blurted out excitedly and ran over to the pool's edge to get a closer look. Deuce and Epel followed him and Jack trotted over as well, but not before snorting at Ruggie. The hyena man looked your form up and down and took in the swirling shades of color that decorated your now sea creature bottom half. He made a small noise before shaking himself and casually patting down the fur on his tail, which was still tense but not as much. 

   “Ok, of all the things I’ve seen. That, I was not expecting.” You giggled at Ruggie’s flustered reaction and felt yourself relax now that you knew pitchforks and torches weren’t coming out. 

   The hyena moved closer to the pool and joined your other friends who were staring at you in awe. You blushed uncontrollably as you felt their gazes roam your colorful body. Decorative markings that spread up to your collarbone changed to a darker shade with your blush.

   “So like can I touch you?” Deuce smacks his hand against Ace’s chest and gives him this look that says “dude you can’t just say that''. You giggle and glide closer to them before lifting your arm which was for the most part pretty human, but had a lavender shade to it and a long silky strip of webbing that shimmered as it moved. The longest tentacle on your body rose out of the water as well and you shivered as the webbing stuck together in an uncomfortable manner. 

   Ace leaned forwards and stroked your arm and tentacle. His eyes were filled with curiosity and wonder. Deuce looked a little more unsure but Epel had no problem reaching out and gently caressing your webbing. Ruggie joined him and Deuce eventually stuck his hand out to stroke your arm, but Jack held back and decided that ultimately he only wanted to look.

   “Wow! This stuff is so soft!” Epel said excitedly. He was generally pretty quiet so you were glad he was comfortable enough to speak out. 

   “It’s so colorful. If we had silks this pretty in the savannah then we’d have lots of money. Say, where could I find more of your kind.” Ruggie’s smirk told you that he was just joking but you glared at him anyways and flicked water his way. 

   The hyena flinched and shook his head before laying his ears back and moving away from the water. Jack and Ace laughed at the antics before Ruggie growled playfully and distracted them from what had happened moments before. 

   It was then that Ace leaned a bit too far forwards and fell straight into the pool. You jumped and swung your tentacles back, instinctively spreading them out to make yourself look bigger. 

   You willed your body to relax as you recovered from the little panic attack and laughed when Ace’s head bobbed to the surface. He sputtered and swam over to the edge and climbed out of the pool. He lay on the concrete and breathed heavily while the boys around him cackled. Ace glared and stood up. 

   “You jerks I’ll show you how you like it.” Deuce shrieked as Ace shoved him into the water. You laughed with everyone else as Deuce came up for air. Sensing a sudden threat of being pushed into the water Ruggie backed up against the gate and watched as Jack pushed Epel in before diving in himself. The five of you giggled and splashed as Ruggie snickered at your antics. 

   You were so glad your new friends didn’t mind your merform. Even better, they really liked it. It felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders as you dived down to swim with your friends. As the five of you splashed and played with Ruggie distracted with your antics, none of you noticed a dark form smirk in the bushes. Nor the click of the camera that he had with him.

----------

   The next day was a nightmare. Apparently someone had spied on you and your friends and photographed you in your merform. People swarmed you asking you all sorts of questions. It was difficult to just get through the halls. Luckily none of the people who stopped and talked to you had anything unkind to say and the stares you received were more curious than malicious but it was still an uncomfortable situation to be in.

   For the most part people who knew you were pretty considerate about your space and privacy. Cater seemed absolutely thrilled to know that you were an octopus but only asked if you were alright with everything going on, instead of bombarding you with questions. 

   Kalim was a little more enthusiastic about the whole situation. Jamil ended up apologizing for him and pulling him away. Vil and Rook subtly commented on your merforms beauty before moving on. Diasomnia rarely came near you but Lilia gave you a sympathetic smile. Trey offered you a few baked sweets as he sensed that you were overwhelmed and as for everyone else you had yet to see them.

   The person you were most worried about seeing though was Azul. He was an octopus merman like you, yet you had never seen his merform. Unless you counted his overblot the only time you had seen him in full shift was in the picture you had borrowed from the museum. 

   He and the Leech twins will probably have an absolute field day over the fact that you’re also a mertype. You worried what Azul was going to think of you hiding it. Over the past few months you had developed a crush on him. You had a plan to confess and everything, but now that the secret was out you were worried that he wasn’t going to like you for keeping it from him. In truth you planned on telling him first, but figured there was no harm in letting your other friends know. Turns out there was and the whole school knew.

   Trapped in your thoughts, you failed to notice the two approaching twins and bumped into them as you turned around a corner.

   “Hiii~ Shrimpy-chan~!” Floyd’s ever changing mood seemed to pleasant as he greeted you with a smile and not a squeeze. 

   “Hello, Y/n. How are you today?” Jade's gentleman persona greeted you but failed to hide the questions and mischief in his eyes. 

   “Just say it already. I know you two already know.” You sighed and watched their faces light up with excitement. Floyd grabbed your arm and took off, dragging you behind him. “Wait!” Soon the three of you arrived at an empty classroom which you were promptly shoved in before the tweels followed, shutting the door behind them.

   “Y/n, my apologies for Floyd’s exuberant behavior, but we have been meaning to speak with you in private since the most recent exposure of your true nature.” Jade was calm and collected as always when he spoke and gently fixed your crumpled uniform which had been shifted while running. 

   “Shrimpy-chan! We have something to tell you!~” Floyd sing-songed before sitting on a desk.

   “What? Wait what is it? And where’s Azul? Wouldn’t he want to speak with me too? If this is about a deal the answer is no.” You folded your arms in front of you and put distance between yourself and the seemingly respectful brother. The twins looked at eachother and you caught a glimpse of something passing through their eyes before Floyd pouted.

   “Aww, what’s wrong with making deals with us? We promise to be real nice this time and not leave you homeless. You could stay with us at Octavinelle!” You rolled your eyes as Floyd giggled and swung his long legs despite the fact that they could easily reach the floor from his seat. 

   “The truth is, Azul is jealous.”

   “What!” You turned and exclaimed at Jade’s statement. The tall mage nodded and continued with a strange look on his face like he wasn’t bothered by this at all. 

   “You are far more beautiful than him in your merform and he is bothered by it. Everyone has always shunned him for his octopus body and now you present yourself as one and everyone goes wild with excitement over your gorgeousness. Something he believes to never have possessed.” 

   You were stunned. Azul was jealous of you. He was upset because you were more beautiful than him. No. You wanted him to love you, not be bothered by you. Why hadn’t you thought of Azul’s insecurities. He just wanted to be an attractive merman and here you were, the same mertype as him and you were advertising your beauty to the world where he had to hide his away due to the fact that he was insecure. 

   Not bothering to say a word you quickly left the room and raced down the hall. You needed to fix this as soon as possible. Otherwise Azul might not like you ever again. Two pairs of mismatched eyes watched your retreat and shone with anticipation. 

   “How long do you think it will take?”

   “Not long Floyd. Luckily she was already prepared before we released the picture.”

----------

   Azul was so over this whole thing. He had rewatched the video and looked at the pictures about 20 times. You were so gorgeous and graceful in your merform; it just made him frustrated that he couldn have been admired for his tentacles. They were simple and slimy so most people hated them yet you were swathed in colorful silks that attracted every creature in the ocean. While most would swim by him or threaten to eat him, any sea animal that came across you would be hypnotised by your beauty. 

   The worst thing about you being an octopus is that it gave him one more reason to tell himself that you will never love him. He was so drab and you were well amazing. Of all the creatures in the sea you had to be a blanket octopus. If you had been a simple mermaid or even better a common octopus like him then surely he would have a chance with you at least. 

   A sudden knock on the door startled the mage and he stood quickly to make sure he looked alright before answering the door. You stood anxiously as he opened the door and grabbed his wrist before he had the chance to shut it. Surprisingly, Azul offered no resistance as you dragged him to the entrance of the aquarium. 

   Octavinelle’s aquarium had two sections, one was for regular fish and the other sea creatures that were on display from the mostro lounge. The other was for the residents. Any and all merfolk could use the aquarium if they felt homesick or separated from their true forms. This was where you chose to place the gift you had made. 

   Coming to a stop you turned and looked at Azul. He looked confused and excited at the same time. You took this as a good sign. 

   “Azul. Will you swim with me?” The merman’s eyes widened and he stood there processing your request for nearly a minute before responding.

   “Sure.”

   Giddy with glee you quickly leapt into the water and shed your clothes before transforming. Rising to the surface you looked up at him from just underneath the surface and he peered back at you.

   Strange. He thought for sure he would feel angry again when he saw you but the darling flush on your face and how you were genuinely happy to swim with him gave him another feeling all together. It bubbled inside of him and made him blush as he slowly lowered himself into the cool water beside you. 

   It had been a while since Azul had consciously shifted so he was a bit worried that he would do it too fast or slow and something would go wrong. Fortunately he was able to shift without incident. Once shifted he suddenly felt very self conscious. As a common octopus he was far more simple and plain compared to your swirling and colorful body. 

   You didn’t seem to mind however as you twirled and circled around Azul excitedly.

   “Come on I have something to show you.” Azul frowned in confusion but followed you regardless. You led him to a sort of grove area that he had never seen before. It was very well hidden but gorgeous as well. 

   You looked back at him excitedly and pushed through the sea vines to an open area where a ray of sunlight fell across and illuminated the gift you had spent months on. Azul’s jaw dropped when he laid eyes on the octopus pot that sat in the middle of the small room. 

   The base was grey and made of some type of stone. Around it sat lavender pillars and corals that surrounded the base except for the entrance. The round opening was smoothed and carved in a delicate design that resembled sea coral. Behind it sat a dark velvet cloth that was tied back with a golden rope.Azul assumed that was to block the entrance or allow for privacy. 

   The inside was decorated with lavish pillows in all sorts of cool shades. They were illuminated by a small yet classy lamp that hung off to the side. The outside of the pot was for the most part smooth and grey with a few purple undertones, but off to one side there sat a carving that resembled the waves and water foam, on top off which held a large pearl that glinted in the sunlight. On the other side a darker grey octopus clung to the top portion of the pot and spread its tentacles out in an elegant manner. Azul took note that the few that rose off the pot appeared to be for hanging things and one looked suspiciously like it was meant to support a staff. 

   You floated in place for what felt like hours as you waited for Azul to react. You reminded yourself to stay patient as he might not respond to it immediately. When he finally did react he did so without words. He simply pointed to himself and raised his eyebrows. You nodded excitedly before bowing your head bashfully. 

   “I’m so sorry that I upset you Azul. I never meant for it to get out in the first place. I was actually planning on telling you first and then giving this octopus pot to you since I know you don’t have one. Then things got messed up and everything and I’m so sorry. I think you’re beautiful in your merform and I hope you’ll accept my apology.” Your face burned when you spoke and you swished your tentacles nervously.

   “What?” You looked up when Azul spoke and saw confusion on his face. “I’m not upset at you. It’s not your fault you’re beautiful. Besides I could never be upset at you, octopus or not. I was distraught because I thought you were so amazing and I’m so plain and that there was no chance that you’d like me back.” You gasped and watched as his face slowly turned pink. 

   He dove into the pot and curled up, mentally berating himself for letting that slip. Shocked you glided over to the entrance of the pot and leaned your head in.

   “Azul. Do you mean that? Do you really like me?” He didn’t respond, you took a deep breath and admitted your own feelings. “Well I like you so…” His head snapped up and he let his expression grow into an ecstatic smile before coughing into his fist and composing himself.

   “Well in that case, do you want to come in and lay with me?” Azul ignored the fact that his face felt like it was on fire and waited as you giggled and moved in beside him. 

   “I’d love to. What do you think of the pot?” The merman smiled gently at you and spoke as he curled his tentacles around you and yours, him. 

   “It’s exquisite. I couldn’t love it more. Where did you get it?” 

   “I made it.” You muttered and flushed at the surprised and impressed look on his face. He shifted closer to you and gripped your hand with his. 

   “You did an excellent job. Thank you.” Your fingers intertwined with his and you pressed your forehead against his. 

   “I love you Azul.” You mumbled sleepily.

   “I love you Y/n.” He spoke before shutting his eyes and enjoying the warmth that spread through the pot. You’re silky webbing fell across the two of you like a blanket and after a stressful morning Azul allowed himself to slip into a comfortable sleep.

----------

   Two pairs of heterochromatic eyes watched the two octopus merpeople sleep soundly inside the pot and smirked with wicked teeth. 

   “How did you know she was an octopus as well?”

   “Floyd, surely you must have noticed. They both smell like takoyaki.” The eels laughed and quietly zipped away, leaving the octopus pot behind.

[strawwritesfic]

Tony Stark x Female!Childhood Friend!Reader: Brightest [Ch. 16]

Summary: [F Name] [L Name]: Tony’s Stark’s “invisible friend.” She’s invisible in all the wrong ways–at least until Tony spots her years after telling her to get out of his life. With Yinsen’s words in mind, Tony decides to pursue their lost relationship, only to find that [Name] might not be as willing as before. What Tony doesn’t know, however, is that the confusion of her life might end up the best of his.

Ratings/Warnings/Tags: M (love triangles; friends with benefits; sexual situations; non-consensual sex with a significant other (note: I will mark this specific chapter accordingly); cheating on significant other portrayed in a positive light; verbal abuse from parents and significant others; toxic relationships of several kinds; rumors of an inappropriate relationship between an older man and his son’s teenage friend; set in between Iron Man 2 and Avengers (2012); references to characters not yet established in the MCU as of time of writing)

Pairings: Tony Stark/Reader; Justin Hammer/Reader; Tony Stark/Reader/Justin Hammer; Pepper Potts/Happy Hogan; past!Pepper Potts/Tony Stark

Tag List: @imaginesfire​; @ironmansuucks​; @sleep-i-ness​

Master List

Chapter 16: No Rope-Showing Required

Days passed. Weeks. A month. The combined work of [L Name] Industries and Hammer Tech plodded on somewhere in the background of your life. Occasional news pieces on the subject issuing from rooms your father occupied were as close as you got to the inner workings of your family business, and you had never been happier. No more screaming matches over your inability to field interview questions! No more endless lunch meetings spent in uncomfortable dresses! No more pressure to excel at something you’d never been interested in! All that was expected of you was to answer Justin’s phone calls—and, of course, to finish the work for your photo gallery.

“[Name]?”

An unexpected but familiar voice called out to you as you exited your old lab one afternoon. Your mother’s presence cut through the joyful daze brought on by your photography work like a knife. Before you could pull the door shut behind you, you found yourself frozen in horror at her approaching figure.

“Mother?” Your voice was high. “What are you doing down here?”

“I could ask you the same question. I thought your father forbade you from working in the garage anymore.”

Since when had your parents been on the same page about your myriad punishments? Your mind raced through any number of excuses for you coming out of a room you weren’t allowed to enter. None seemed suitable when your mother crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Why don’t we skip the part where you try lying to me this time, dear?” she asked.

“No. I…”

True, you couldn’t lie to her. You couldn’t lie to anybody. But you couldn’t tell her the truth either: That the garage was the one place in the house no one could happen upon you and find you preparing for a gallery none of them knew existed.

“Save it, [Name]. I know what’s been going on with you.”

“You…you do?”

“Of course I do.” She waved a dismissive hand in the air. “You’re seeing someone else while your boyfriend is away. Don’t deny it,” she added over your stillborn protest. “Honestly, [Name]. I wrote the book on sleeping around behind your husband’s back. And you…well, let’s just say you’re not being the least bit subtle about it.”

Not being the least bit subtle? How so? For how long? Just how much had your mother worked out? Just how much had anyone else? You were too afraid to ask. Luckily, you did not have to.

“Oh, drop the deer-in-the-headlights impression. No one else knows. At least, I haven’t told anyone. This is just between you and me,” she said.

“You’re not…you’re not mad?”

Your mother adored Justin. She’d made few things clearer to you since you’d started dating him. Just seeing Rhodey drop you off at the front gate when you were supposed to be out to dinner with your boyfriend had caused her a conniption. And you were supposed to believe she didn’t see anything wrong with you sleeping around now that Justin was in a different state?“

Rolling her eyes, your mother threw a thin arm around your shoulders and pulled you down to her level. "What Justin doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Just make sure your little fling is over and done with well before he gets back from Queens.”

“Yes. Yes ma'am.”

“There now.” The pressure around your shoulder suddenly vanished, only for your mother to appear in front of your as she took both your cheeks in an iron grip. “Was admitting the truth to your own mother that hard?”

“No?” you said in a distorted voice.

“Good. Try to do that more often.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Her [color] eyes roved around your face, causing your heartbeat to kick up several notches. You could not remember the last time the two of you had stood this close. Her palms kept you from pulling away from her when you tried.

“Mom? I—I really should get going before Dad finds out I was in the lab.”

“Run along,” she said, and released you.

You took two tentative steps backward with her gaze still zeroed in on your head. Then you turned to flee the hallway. Just as you put one foot on the first step out of the basement, your mother said your name once more and brought you to a halt.

“Do try to be a little less obvious about your affair from now on. All this smiling and looking at your phone and sneaking out for hours at a time. Your father and Justin might be busy with the merger, but that won’t last forever. Someone is bound to notice how…happy you’ve been lately.”

What response to that could you offer but a tremulous nod? She did not look inclined to pass along any further nuggets of motherly advice; still you moved quickly up the stairs into the relative safety of the empty sitting room above. Thank God your father had gone into work that day. If he’d seen you so rattled after encounter with your mother, there would have been Hell to pay.

You remained rattled as you climbed the second stairway up to the floor that housed your bedroom. How much did your mother really know, you wondered. Surely nothing about the project hidden in the files of the lab computer—and surely not exactly who you were sleeping with behind your boyfriend’s back! If she knew either of those facts, she’d have already notified Justin, and perhaps your father too for good measure. But could you trust her not to let either of them in on your secret without that information if the opportunity arose for her to pass it along?

Any and all worries about the consequences of your mother-daughter tête-à-tête disappeared the moment you opened the door to your room. Someone else was already inside. Stretched across your bed as though it were the most natural thing in the world was a bizarre figure: Tony Stark in near-full Iron Man regalia. Only his head was exposed where he’d removed his helmet, which sat lifeless on your bedside table.

Your eyes locked. Neither of you said a word until you stepped inside and closed the door. Then he sat up , very slowly and exaggeratedly pulled a doughnut hole from a paper bag on his lap, and popped the morsel into his mouth.

“Took you long enough,” he said around the doughnut hole. “I was about to starve to death in here.”

In one deft movement he crushed the empty bag in a red-and-gold fist. You gaped at him.

“Something wrong with my face? Do I have helmet beard?” he asked.

“Just a few cuts and bruises. What are you doing here?” you asked in return.

“Oh, I thought I’d drop by on my way home from showing Rhodey the ropes.”

You let out a laugh and finally headed over to sit next to him.

“What?”

“I don’t think Rhodey needs you to show him the ropes.”

“So he wears the suit once and he’s already an expert? Is that what you’re saying?”

“How hard could it be? You’ve got JARVIS programmed in there to do all the work.”

“You think that’s all it takes? Here.” Tony plucked the helmet off your table to offer it to you.

“Oh, I don’t think so.”

“No. Let’s see you try it.”

“No! No! Heaven forbid!” you squealed, squirming to get away.

Tony did not try very hard to force the issue. No way could you have fought him off while he was wearing that getup. After a few seconds of careful wrestling, he came to an abrupt stop. He looked down at the helmet for a moment, shrugged carelessly, and dumped it on the carpet.

“You’re probably right. Who knows what you might do if I gave you that sort of firepower while we’re inside this building?”

Was that a serious question? He didn’t give you time to answer it.

“You got me. I went out today, and things went south. Rhodey had to come in as backup.”

“What? What happened? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. All the hostages are safe and sound. Rhodey and I delivered the kids to their parents ourselves. And it only turned out the way it did because he came in. He’s way better at talking people down than I am.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” you said wryly.

His eyes narrowed without comment on your remark. “And then, you know, what with the life-and-death situation over and done with, I still felt a little keyed up, and I thought, who better to get all that energy out with?”

“Me?”

“You.”

“But how did you even get inside without anyone seeing you?”

“The window.” Your questions were stupid, but did he have to use that tone of voice? “I didn’t feel like changing my clothes, and it was simpler than coming in through the front door.”

Tony didn’t know about your recent conversation with your mother. Even if he did, you weren’t so sure he’d care. He didn’t live here. The shattered pieces of your life that resulted from the consequences of his actions never seemed to matter much to him before. But this was worse. So much worse.

“What you making that face for?” he asked.

“What if someone saw you?” you snapped. So terrifying was this idea that you leaped to your feet and began to pace. “You can’t just—just show up here, unannounced and uninvited!”

He stood, brow furrowed. All this did was stoke your frustration higher. You slapped a hand to your head and paced back and forth more frantically.

“My mother knows, Tony! Okay? She knows I’m sneaking around behind Justin’s back. And you coming by in—in—in bright red and gold armor is not going to prevent her from connecting the dots!”

Upon your umpteenth pass of him, Tony grabbed your arm. You tried to snatch it back from him, but he only pulled you to his chest. Despite wearing a strength-enhancing suit, his grip was surprisingly light and gentle. Nothing about his touch hurt. If you wanted to get away from him, you probably could have.

“[Name]. Breathe. No one spotted me.”

“How can you know that for sure?” you asked.

“Because I’ve been working on some stealth technology integrated into this suit,” he said patiently. “It provides camouflage that your father’s security system doesn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of detecting. And if anyone had the slightest inkling I was here, you dad would already have rallied the troops, and I’m pretty sure Justin would be blowing up your phone as we speak.”

He shot a pointed look in the direction of the pocket you always kept your cell phone in. You pulled your phone out and unlocked the screen—which featured a selfie of you sitting in Justin’s lap as he kissed the top of your head—with a shaking hand. Your heart pounded as you braced yourself for the inevitable barrage of guilt slinging.

Nothing. No texts. Not a single notification.

An enormous sigh of relief blasted from your lips.

“See? You hyperventilated for nothing,” Tony said.

The sudden loss of anxiety left you too exhausted to come up with a sarcastic retort. You simply took a few more deep breaths and allowed your forehead to rest on his arc reactor, its blue glow lulling you into a sense of calm.

“You still should have told me you were coming by,” you murmured after a minute or so had passed like this.

“And ruin the surprise? Perish the thought.”

“Surprise?” You looked up at him. “What surprise?”

“You know those cuts and bruises you keep staring at?”

“Yeah.”

“My face isn’t the only part of my body that’s sorely in need of attention, if you catch my drift. Saving hostages is sweaty work.”

It didn’t take the metal fingers toying with the neckline of your top for you to get the gist of Tony’s suggestion. Before he could get any further past the toying stage, you took one gigantic step backward. The backs of your calves knocked against your bed.

“Since you’re here, I had a question for you regarding the gallery,” you said in a rush.

Tony looked more confused than ever, but he didn’t try to tug you back. “Okay. Shoot.”

Your mouth opened. Your mouth closed. Meanwhile, Tony Stark stood there in your bedroom and did nothing to help plaster over your obvious attempt at hedging.

“Having trouble thinking of a real question?” he asked.

“No! I-I was thinking that…that I want to go on another photo shoot soon. Maybe tomorrow. Get some pictures and ask people if I can use them immediately. It would be easier than trying to track all my past subjects down.”

“That’s not a question.”

Even after the compliments he’d given you over your growing ability to resist him, he always seemed to know when you were weakening. He closed the gap between you. You screwed your eyes shut in an attempt to not immediately give in.

“I know. The question part was…was, do you want to come along again?”

“Sure. Just tell me when.”

Your eyes popped open. “What did you say?”

“I said sure. I had fun on the last one. You look pretty good in those fake piercings. But before we go anywhere, I really, really want a shower. I promise we’ll both be comfortable.”

Shower sex with Justin wasn’t exactly a comfortable experience—but so far you hadn’t had an uncomfortable experience with Tony. On top of that, he wanted to spend time with you doing something you enjoyed. That wasn’t a sex thing. That was a friend thing. Right? You couldn’t remember the last time Justin had so much as feigned interest in one of your hobbies, scant though they might have been. But did it matter? The same problem remained as before. To get out of this, you would have to tell Tony the truth.

“My…my bedroom door doesn’t lock from the inside. Only the outside,” you said weakly.

Your hot-faced embarrassment felt entirely justified in the light of his obvious horror.

“You have got to be kidding me. What is this, Alcatraz? Just let me find you a good lawyer.”

As he spoke, he seemed to be casting about the room for something. You couldn’t tell what. A chair to wedge in front of the doorknob? That would only raise suspicion if anyone came calling. Then his brown eyes fell upon the helmet discarded on the floor. He vanished from your vision for a moment to scoop it up. Your heart sank when you spotted that. As dangerous as it was to have Tony in your bedroom, you didn’t want him to leave.

But he didn’t put the helmet on and fly away at once. Instead, he tapped on the top until the eyes blazed blue.

“JARVIS?” Tony said.

You heard and saw no indication that his AI had heard, but he went on:

“I need you to enter security mode. Cast the radius out ten feet in every direction.”

The light in the sockets flickered once. Grinning, Tony placed his helmet on the bookshelf closest to your door. You must have looked awestruck, because his grin twisted into a smirk when he caught your eye. He turned his neck and pointed to his ear.

“Earpiece,” he explained. “If JARVIS senses anyone coming up the hall, we’ll know. I’m sure there’s some convenient enclosed space you can shove me into. You’re so adept at that and all. Now, can we please take a shower? I can’t begin to fathom how you’re ignoring the stench.”

“Well, if you’re going to beg…” you began. Tony smirked. Then your hand found his shoulder, and you frowned. “Are you sure I can figure out how to get this thing off?”

He answered by sweeping you off your feet. Your startled shriek he smothered with a heated kiss.

“Princess,” he said, when he was done and you were breathless, “I think you’re capable of a lot more than that.”

Maybe Tony was right. He so often was. You still didn’t think you could hold a candle to any of his other girlfriends, but some of the noises he made that night made you think you might not be the only one getting something out of this arrangement after all.

[boldlyvoid]

Amoreena | Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: fluffiest fluff ever, jealous amoreena, jealous spencer, the LaMontagne family is in this too !!

word count: 3.8K

from the beginning <3

He went to work with Y/N on Tuesday to fill out all the paperwork and officially become an employee at the D.C Public Library. He signed a contract, he was switched over to a different government healthcare, answering a million calls and emails all morning, he was officially not an FBI agent.

They had lunch together in the park, buying some sandwiches and walking across the street to a picnic table to talk about their days while they ate. He liked her co-workers, they all were shocked to find out she was “married” to him after being single the whole time she’s worked there.

They had plans to go get Amoreena from school a few minutes early, before heading to meet his mother, not telling her about the plans unless Diana had a bad day last minute and couldn’t see them. So far, according to the nurses, she was lucid and having a great day waiting for them.

“So about yesterday morning,” Y/N changed the subject, biting her lip like she was avoiding this.

“What about it?”

“Amoreena really wants us to have a wedding, I was thinking we could go up to New York for fathers day and have another fake wedding?” Y/N hypothesized her plan, hoping for Spencer’s approval.

He couldn’t help but smile, about to answer when he got an email on his phone. “I’d love to do that, it would be nice to go on a vacation with just as the three of us.”

“You can check that,” she said, noticing he looked at his phone as it buzzed.

It was an email. Not from anyone he knew, it wasn’t about work or healthcare, it wasn’t his mom or Penelope sending him funny things from the internet…

No, it was from Taylor Swift. He tried his best to calm his facial reactions and micro-expressions so she’d think it was just something work-related. An emailed contract, updated health forms, nothing too serious.

To: Spencer Reid From: Taylor Swift Subject: Amoreena

Hey Spencer!

Portia reached out and said that your wife and daughter are huge fans and you were interested in some summer tickets in Virginia… I was thinking if you guys ever found yourself in Rhode Island you’d all want to come to my place, my doors always open for friends 💛 Love Taylor xx

“What?” Y/n asked, trying to read over his shoulder as he turned the phone away.

“It’s a surprise,” he said, locking his phone and putting it in his pocket to reply to her later. “Have you ever thought about a beach wedding? Rhode Island is pretty nice in June.”

She tilted her head as she bit back a smile, wondering what he was planning, “Amoreena will have us reenact the little mermaid 2 instead of Enchanted then, just fyi, but yeah that sounds fun, we should get a beach house on Airbnb for the weekend.”

“Okay, let me handle it all, you don’t need to plan a single thing, just show up with a dress?” Spencer offered, knowing how scared weddings made her now.

She kissed his cheek softly, resting her chin on his shoulder as she leaned over on him, “nothing fancy or crazy okay?”

“Define crazy?” He teased her… she really had no idea what was coming.

To: Taylor Swift From: Spencer Reid Subject: RE: Amoreena

Thank you so much for the quick response and generous offer, we were thinking of having a small elopement in Rhode Island with just the three of us over Father’s Day weekend if that works for you? Seven is the song we danced to at our intimate personal wedding, however, Amoreena’s pretty sad she didn’t get to witness it, that’s why we’re having another one with her. (And hopefully you!) Thank you for making my girls so happy over all the years that I didn’t know them yet, you’re probably their favourite person in the world, even more so than me! It would mean everything to them to meet you or see you in any way, you’re incredibly kind for this.

Thanks again, Spencer Reid x

He tried his best to be as calm and nice as possible in his response, still managing to rant a little even in text format. It was just how he communicated, either not at all or all at once. He was so excited for Y/N and Amoreena.

“So you said your mom has a scrapbook,” Y/N changed the subject after Spencer spent 5 minutes in silence, turned away from her as he answered an email.

“She does, she’s going to show you a lot of photos of me today,” he smiled at the fact she remembered.

“I know you want to tell her about Amoreena alone before we come in, so I made her something for her scrapbook, it’s back on my desk drying,” Y/N was so precious as she got excited, that same giddiness he see’s in Amoreena bursting through her.

“Okay, let’s go see it,” he put his phone in his pocket and followed her back across the street towards the library.

On some beautiful floral scrapbook paper, Y/N glued an array of photos of Amoreena from the beginning all the way to the museum trip last week.

A photo of her first round of IVF, dated February 19th, 2013. Exactly 1 month after he donated, she must have chosen his sample as soon as it entered the system, even a photo of the sample jar reading “sample 2319”, A photo of her crying in the garden with her grandma when she found it she was pregnant, wrapped in a big coat and surrounded by snow. Her pregnancy announcement being a baby sock on a stuffed toy Sully from Monsters Inc, "new door opening November 2013!" Amoreena has been surrounded by references to books and movies since the beginning.

There was a photo from the moment Amoreena was born, crying and brand-new, resting on Y/N’s chest as she sobbed, more beautiful than he’s ever seen her before, completely in love with the child she made.

Amoreena Margery Y/L/N - November 13th, 2013, 9:53 pm 7lbs 12oz, 21 inches of perfection

“Her middle name is Margery?”

“Yeah,” she smiled back at his ever glowing face, wondering why it was so important to him. “Like Margery Kempe, my grandma’s favourite.”

“She’s my mom’s favourite too,” Spencer couldn’t help but laugh, it was such a strange turn of events. He saw so much of his mother in Amoreena just for her to have a middle name related to her.

Y/N couldn’t believe it, “I’m so excited to meet her!”

“I just hope she’s okay today, truly,” Spencer worried. “She is my best friend and a great mother, don’t get me wrong. But some of the things she did to me on her bad days were scary, and I never want Amoreena to experience that.”

Y/N pulled him into a hug, “it’s hereditary isn’t it?” He nodded against her shoulder as she tried to soothe all the impending anxiety out of his body. “I’m not going anywhere, she won't have to raise herself and care for you, that’ll never happen to her.”

She guessed, and she was right. Reading his mind like she’s already been in there and watched all his trauma, she knew all the right words and how exactly to push his feelings away. She was sunshine clearing his grey skies once more, about to cause a drought so he’d no longer rain on his own parade. Marching beside him, hand in hand into the future.

—

They waited at the gate of Amoreena’s school, none of the other parents were waiting yet, giving Y/N a chance to show Spencer around the yard and tell him about her school. “She’s in senior kindergarten, she has a November birthday so I opted to send her in when she was 6 instead of 5, giving me an extra year of home pre-school.”

“That’s why she’s so smart, not my genes,” Spencer smiled, walking around the edge of the gate with her hand still in his.

“They want her to jump right into grade 5 next year, I said no, she deserves a childhood with children she doesn’t have to compete with or see her as a threat,” Y/N voice was stern even in the recounting like she knew from experience. “Because she’ll be 8 in November she’s going into grade 2 instead, then she’ll be in the same age range and mental level, but all her friends she knows in grade 1 will be in the same recess yard as her.”

“I went from kindergarten to grade 4, then I jumped to grade 6 when I was 9 and I graduated high school at 13, it was terrible,” Spencer agreed, not knowing if he had a place in the decision but wanting her to know he agreed with it.

“Let’s go inside and get her,” Y/N smiled at him, understanding his meaning perfectly and dragging him into the school.

“Hello miss Ludlough,” Y/N beamed as she entered the main office with her arm tucked under Spencers, showing him off slightly.

“Y/N, good afternoon! Do you need me to call that little angel down early?” The secretary was a lovely older woman, wrinkled and happy as she smiled back.

“No, I just need to get some paperwork to put her dad in the files?” Y/N surprised Spencer with that and he almost stopped breathing.

“Really?” He whispered, capturing her attention as her eyes twinkled up at him.

“I’d like you on her emergency contacts, if they can’t get ahold of me I’d like you to be with her,” Y/N confirmed, patting his shoulder softly as Miss Ludlough handed her a few forms.

Spencer signed everywhere he needed to, handing them his licence to be photocopied into her file for proof when he picked her up in the future. He was glad to see there was a system, that they cared for his little girl and she wasn’t going to be going home with anyone who wasn’t in that file. And if she did he had no problem hunting them down and getting her back in whatever way he had to…

He shook the thought out of his head as it arises, reminding himself that that isn’t who he is now and she would be fine. They lived in a happy world where bad things didn’t happen.

Y/N’s hand rubbing his lower back helped, he stood straight again and pushed the papers over the desk, smiling as he officially became her father on 3 different sheets of paper. That was as real as it could get.

“Spence?” He heard an all to familiar voice from behind him.

Turning to see JJ and Will smiling with wide arms, waiting for his embrace. “What are you doing here?” She asked him, voice high as she was clearly shocked.

He walked into her arms and held her quickly, “I’m here with my wife,” breaking the news to her in the most casual way possible. “Picking up our kid.”

“Y/N?” Will noticed her then, “holy shit, you’re the wife?”

She nodded with a smile, hugging will quickly like she has known him for years, “how are you, cowboy?”

Spencer and JJ looked at each other incredibly confused, JJ clearly didn’t know her so how did Will?

“Will and I have been on what, 6 school trips together? Michael and Amoreena are buddies,” Y/N explained with a soft smile, “I knew Henry and Michaels's names sounded familiar…”

“Nini thinks I’m a cowboy,” Will laughed lightly, smiling at Y/N the way he did at JJ and something in Spencer almost snapped thinking about Will being the one person between him and the girl he liked, once again.

Only this time she was his wife and not the cute media liaison who had no interest in him until he came out of prison.

“She was very upset when she found out that Will was already married, she wanted us to be Woody and Jessie from toy story,” Y/N had no problem ranting about how their kids got along and how good of friends they had become over the last 2 years of school trips.

Y/N noticed the anxiety in Spencer’s eyes as he pulled away from JJ and made sure no one was touching him, “luckily, our little girl’s got the best daddy in the whole world now and all her dreams came true.”

“She sure does,” JJ agreed, “Hey, I gave your mom all those books you gave me for the boys, when you were away, so she had something to keep remembering you with, you should give them to Amoreena.”

“I will, we’re going to see her tonight,” he was able to push past the feelings and enjoy the moment of his friends meeting his wife, even if the title was just pretend.

“I’m so excited,” Y/N shook her hands the same way Amoreena did, stepping into Spencer's space and wrapping her arm around him. “Can we pick her up from the room Miss Ludlough?”

“Sure thing, do you want me to call down and say Mikey’s parents are here too?”

“Yes, please,” JJ smiled over the counter.

With the four of them walking down the hall together to get their kids, Spencer felt like he was sleepwalking. Too many emotions were running through his veins to feel real, but then Y/N took his hand in hers and rested her cheek against his arm as they walked and he was fine.

She tugged on his arm and waited in the hallway while JJ and Will entered the classroom first, “what’s wrong, she’ll know you’re upset?”

He sighs, shaking the stupidity out of his mind. “I had a huge crush on JJ before they got pregnant with Henry, and when I came back from prison she told me she had always loved me and it got weird for a bit and I’m still kinda mad when I see Will bond with the people I love.”

“I was wondering when you’d get possessive,” she teased him, “I’m yours and I wouldn’t have your ring on if I wasn’t, no matter how another man looks at me, I only love you.”

“I’m sorry, I know.”

“It’s okay, you’re not used to this are you?” She saw right through it. “Am I your first real girlfriend?”

“Kinda, Maeve and I never even really met until she was kidnapped,” he admits and it sounds so childish in his mind.

“Okay we’ll talk about this later cause that sounds like a good story I should know,” she tried to smile, standing on her tiptoes to peck his lips softly before smiling more. “Let’s go get your kid?”

“Let's,” his smile returned.

They turned the corner into the vibrant room, Amoreena was talking to Will when she noticed Spencer at the door, running towards him and almost pushing Will over to do so, “Dad!”

He picked her up and snuggled right into the crook of her little neck, giving her the biggest hug he’s ever given and not realizing just how much he missed her until she was back in his arms again. His baby, the littlest life he’s ever held this close to his heart.

When he put her down he noticed all the women’s eyes were on him, hands over their hearts at the pure display of affection between father and daughter. They all saw him as her dad, they had no reason not to, giving him all the attention he’s never received before.

“What are you doing here?” Her tiny voice asked as she beamed at him with wonder.

He kneeled in front of her to get on her eye level when Michael came running over, “Hi uncle Spencer!” He tackled him into a hug.

“Uncle Spencer?” Amoreena’s brow furrowed as she scowled at the boy taking her dad’s attention, she pulled Michael back by his shirt. “That’s my dad!”

“Amoreena, honey,” Spencer tried not to laugh, she was definitely his kid, “Michels mom, JJ, is my best friend from work and I’m his older brother Henry’s godfather, they’re your cousins.”

She looked at him like he was insane, “what’s a godfather?”

“If anything bad happens to his mommy or daddy and they can’t take care of them, they’ll come live with us,” it was the simplest answer, “I’m not their father, I’m yours.”

She nodded and hugged him again, sticking her tongue out at Michael in the process, “why are you here?” She repeated the question.

Y/N was standing over him with a hand on his shoulder then, “we’re taking you to meet your other grandma.”

Amoreena started to shake with excitement, moving her hands and grinding her teeth as she smiles, shrieking with excitement, “I have another grandma!?”

JJ was watching from the corner of the room, secretly filming it on her phone for the rest of the team to see Spencer with his baby. A sight many of them never thought they’d ever see as he slowly lost hope, losing himself somewhere along the way and no longer wanting to accept their help. This was a big moment for the team too, their little brother was finally happy.

—

In the car, Spencer sat with Amoreena in the back seat so he could tell her everything about her new grandma. Or as Amoreena wanted to call her, Princess Diana, “I can’t believe you’re actually royalty!”

They all laugh at how her fantastic little brain works, “you can’t tell anyone that Princess Diana is in DC okay? It’s a government secret!” Y/N teased from the driver's seat.

“I’m like Princess Mia!” She screamed at the top of her lungs and Spencer was astounded she could be that loud.

“Okay, okay, not that loud! we can't scare any of the people who live here. They like it to be calm and quiet so the patients can be happy,” Y/N settled her down, “Dad is going to go in and tell grandma all about us for a little while and then we’ll go meet her okay? He wants to make sure she’s happy today before we go in.”

With that, they were pulling into his mother's care facility and he felt like he was going to be sick with excitement. He used to visit his mother with the fear of rage and disappointment in her eyes, he was too proud to let his anxiety take that from him today.

He kissed her forehead before getting out, Y/N handed him the scrapbook pages through the window and he leaned inside to give her a kiss too. Receiving a disgusted groan from Amoreena, he pulled away and walked into the building while they found a place to park.

She was waiting for him in the garden, sitting at a picnic table with her scrapbook and gifts for Amoreena. “Spencer!”

“Hey mom,” he smiled as he hugged her, “how are you feeling?”

“Fantastic, where is this family you made?” She was so ready to meet them, truly there inside her mind and willing to learn more about this life he was making.

“Sit down first,” he said softly, taking a seat beside her at the table and placing the scrapbook page on the table. “This is my Amoreena.”

Her fingers glided over the words, “Margery,” she repeated her middle name with a smile. “She has a sperm donor for a father?”

“I’m a sperm donor, mom,” he smiled softly as he broke the news.

She turned to him with shock, “she’s yours?”

“We think so, so that’s what we’re telling people, she’s mine regardless.”

Diana wrapped him up in another hug, “I’m so happy for you Spencer. You always deserved a perfect family, I’m sorry I couldn’t do that for you. I hope your dreams come true with her.”

Just like that Amoreena and Y/N were rounding the corner and walking over towards their table. She had a huge smile on her face and a card in her hand, walking right up to Diana and handing it to her.

“Hi, grandma, I’m Amoreena,” she introduced herself politely before stretching her arms out for a hug.

Diana wrapped her up in the softest little hug, trying not to cry in front of her brand new granddaughter, which was fine because Spencer was the one crying. Turning away from them so Amoreena wouldn’t see as Y/N patted his arm with a smile.

They were fast friends, Y/N and Diana bonding over Margery Kempe and while Amoreena opened the two gifts Diana got for her, a simple colouring book and Spencer's original copy of Matilda from when he was a child. She sat down in the grass and read it while they all caught up, lost in her own little world.

It was the most perfect afternoon, just him and his family, happier than he’s ever dreamed he could be.

—

He checked his phone one last time before bed, Y/N was sitting against the headboard reading a book and so deep in the story, he knew she wouldn’t be able to read over his shoulder.

Scrolling through everything from the day to see that yes, there was a response from Taylor Swift. It felt insane, but he opened it and started to read her plans.

Spencer!! You’re so sweet, I’m sure you make them incredibly happy! I’d love to have you stay in the guest house here, and I’m ordained if you need someone to make it real and official ♥︎ let me know what I can do, I’d love to help in any way to make some fairytale dreams come true! Taylor xx

Smiling like an idiot, he closed his phone. He’d reply tomorrow, till then he was going to snuggle into his wife and appreciate their time together.

She lifted an arm to let him lay against her chest, “today she woke up and decided to be an explorer, the little girl with the wildest imagination stormed out of her home and towards the unknown part of her land. It was her destiny to travel across the bridge and unite the people beyond the field, towards the pond that was swallowed by willow trees,” Y/N read the grandmother's thoughts from the page.

“With her wooden sword, she sliced and diced on the ivy that surrounded the gate. Freeing the hinges and allowing the entrance to swing open, unlocking a new area of the world for her mind to wander.

“For what the regular human eye saw, Amoreena saw it times a million. Every colour and then some, new colours appearing in the morning glow as she stared at the dew on the leaves she just chopped through. She saw the world in a way that made everything exciting, there was never a bad thing, only good things with interesting quirks.

“She passed every mushroom and toadstool, every strange-looking tree and human-shaped moss ball, greeting them with a good morning as she strolled through the once-forbidden forest. Her adventure only beginning, the objective not yet known.”

“Your grandma could see the future,” Spencer whispered as she turned the page, “that’s our wonderful little girl’s mind in words.”

Y/N kissed the top of his head, “our wonderful little girl.” She repeated the words, loving the way they sounded on his tongue as much as he loved how she said it.

Taglist: @shemarmooresfedora @spookyspence @spencers-dria @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

[izzymcfeegles]

Yet another post about Sebastian Stan:

I'm seriously tired of making these posts, but over the past few days, there has been a lot of controversy surrounding Sebastian's most recent IG post, and as a result,more things are resurfacing and its become impossible for me to ignore. I'm going to try my best to give a fair assessment, but if I'm being honest, this all appears to be a pretty troublesome pattern of behavior. Before I get into any of that, I think it's important to mention where I stand on cancel culture. As someone who is a longtime fan of wrestling and classic rock, I'm no stranger to seeing some of my favorite artists act in ways that would be considered unacceptable by today's standards. I do think that stan Twitter has a tendency to be a bit harsh when it comes to judging things that people have done in the past. That being said:

Context is important. The reality is that there were many things that were considered to be socially acceptable at one point in time, that we've since learned can be harmful, particularly to those who are marginalized on the basis of race, gender, sexual orientation, gender identity, etc. Something that was considered to be acceptable 2005, we later find can be toxic and harmful. Do I think it's productive to cancel for someone for something they did decades ago that was considered to be acceptable at the time? Not necessarily. However, if this person continues to exhibit the same behaviors to this day, then yes, they should be rightfully taken to task.

In Sebastian's case, he has a documented history of saying and doing things that are ignorant and tone-deaf. In the early 2010's he made an comment about playing Bucky as a "transvestite," a word that is considered to be dated and offensive to Trans people. If I'm being honest, if I saw the interview the date it aired, I probably wouldn't have blinked twice as I was not as educated on Trans issues at that time. I now know that the comment was unacceptable and hope Sebastian does too.

Regarding the Jeff!Seb pedo memes, I'd be lying if I said my edgy 2009 self wouldn't have found them funny at one point, however in 2017, my adult self was not amused. And coming from someone who was playing an abuser at the time, liking those memes was a bad look. Same goes for the Kneegate meme, especially when you consider the amount of hatred black NFL players were receiving from people including the President of the United States for kneeling in protest during the national anthem. It was tasteless, tone-deaf, and he should have known better. The fact that his "apology" over the incident was surrounded by quotes, and as some fans speculated, copied and pasted did not help matters. Mind you, many fans were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and forgive him, and for a while things seemed okay.

Fast forward to 2020. After the man made it a point to shame Miami spring breakers for vacationing during the pandemic, he is seen months later vacationing in Ibiza and later Tulum. The fact that he used his money and Romanian passport to go on vacation while many of us were either stuck at home or worse, putting our lives at risk to put food on the table, understandably did not sit well with many people, especially when taking his previous comments about pandemic vacationers into account. The fact that his traveling partner is a socialite who has a history of doing cultural appropriation, including doing brown face and using the word "savage" in reference to her friend doing a native war cry made it sting even more. I'm not going to go into depth about her because she doesn't deserve the attention and this is about holding Sebastian accountable, but the fact that he is still with her and they appear to be inseparable, it's clear that her history of CA is a non-issue for him. Make what you will of that.

Moving to recent actions. The current project Sebastian is working on is controversial in its own right. As someone who has been a Mötley Crüe fan for almost 20 years, I am familiar with the history of that relationship and how toxic is was and will never defend Tommy and the abuse Pamela suffered at his hand. While my issue is mostly with the producers, it doesn't change the fact Sebastian and Lily are still willfully participating in a series that Pamela herself does not wish to be made.

Sebastian's most recent post seems to be catalyst for the most recent wave of Twitter outrage. I am well aware that Tommy is/was a practicing Buddhist and that things like Buddha statues were part of his home decor. That's not the issue. The issue lies in the face Sebastian chose to make in the photo where he appears to be prying to the statue, along with the caption "find your zen fuckerz." Once again, I am aware of Tommy's speech patterns and get that it was "in character," but to use the combination of that photo and that caption as a non-Buddhist, it's understandable why some Buddhist fans were offended and saw it as disrespectful. And as a non-Buddist, I don't think it's right to tell these people what they should and should not be offended by.

So for those of you who hate paragraphs, TL/DR:

Sebastian has a documented history of ignorant behavior and posts and as of now does not seem to be interested in addressing these things and learning about why the aforementioned behaviors are problematic and why some fans are hurt. This is not okay and we should not be defending him.

I understand that for many of you, he has been a source of joy. Bucky is still my comfort character and I will always be grateful to Seb for portraying the him with the nuance and care he deserves. I'm not asking anyone to stop staning Bucky or to take down your Seb x Reader fanfics. Life is short and you're entitled to the things that make you happy. Just understand that his actions have hurt a lot of people and why fans are upset and lashing out. While I do not condone any threats or doxxing aimed at his direction, the same goes to people who criticize him. I've seen people go to some vile lengths to defend him, from going after Pamela, a victim of abuse, to telling Buddhists how they should feel about their own religion, to anons telling the blogs who call him out to go kill themselves. None of this is ok. At the end of the day, Sebastian is a 38-year-old white man who has a great deal of money and influence and has more social capital than the people calling him out. He will be fine regardless of what happens and does not need people to protect him. The same cannot be said about the people he hurt through his actions.