#i'll probably make a finished piece of them next year. probably

[theynanigans]

just finished crosscode + the dlc! these 3 are so fun and i had to draw them. despite being short on time. sooo quick doodles go brr <3

[jonnywaistcoat]

Hey, Horrormaster Sims. I have a wildly different question that barely relates to TMA (Sorry about that) but its about your own process. Please, if you could, can you tell me how your first drafts made you feel? I'm on the fence about writing my own thing (not a podcast, and again, not Magnus related, though I have a million little aus for that delightful tragedy you wrote, thank you for that!) But I'm discouraged by the collective notion that first drafts are always terrible, because there's no ... examples I can solidly use to help the dumb anxiety beast in my brain that tells me everyone who is in any way popular popped out a golden turd and not, well, you know. One of my friends said 'Oh I bet Jonathan Sims's first draft was nothing like what he wanted' and I got the bright idea to just. Send you an ask, since you're trapped on this hellsite like I am. Anyway, thanks for reading this (if you do) and if you'd rather ask it privately, I am cool with that. Alternatively, you're a hella busy man with Protocol (you and Alex are making me rabid, i hope you know) and you can just ignore this! Cheers, man, and good words.

To my mind all writing advice, especially stuff that's dispensed as truisms (like "first drafts are always garbage") are only useful inasmuch as such advice prompts you to pay attention to how you write best: what helps your workflow, what inspires you, what keeps you going through the rough bits. There are as many different ways to write (and write well) as there are people who write and so always consider this sort of thing a jumping off point to try out or keep in mind as you gradually figure out your own ways of writing.

On first drafts specifically, I think the wisdom "all first drafts are bad" is a bit of unhelpful oversimplification of the fact that, deadlines notwithstanding, no piece of writing goes out until you decide its ready, so don't get too hung up on your first draft of a thing, because a lot of writers find it much easier to edit a complete work than to try and redraft as they go. It's also important to not let perfectionism or the fact your initial draft isn't coming out exactly how you want stop you from actually finishing the thing, as it's always better to have something decent and done than to have something perfect and abandoned.

But the idea of a "first draft" is also kind of a fluid one. The "first draft" you submit to someone who's commissioned you will probably be one you've already done a bunch of tweaks and edits to, as opposed to the "first draft" you pump out in a frenzy in an over-caffeinated weekend. For my part, my first drafts tend to end up a bit more polished than most, because I'm in the habit of reading my sentences out loud as I write them (a habit picked up from years of audio writing) so I'll often write and re-write a particular sentence or paragraph a few times to get the rhythm right before moving to the next one. This means my first drafts tend to take longer, but are a bit less messy. I'm also a big-time planner and pretty good at sticking to the structures I lay out so, again, tend to front load a lot of stuff so I get a better but slower first draft.

At the end of the day, though, the important thing is to get in your head about it in a good way (How do I write best? what helps me make writing I enjoy and value? What keeps me motivated?) and not in a bad way (What if it's not good enough? What if everyone hates it? What if it doesn't make sense?) so that you actually get it done.

As for how my first drafts made me feel? Terrible, every one of 'em No idea if that's reflective of their quality, though, tbh - I hate reading my own writing until I've had a chance to forget it's mine (I can only ever see the flaws). I suppose there's theoretically a none-zero chance they were pure fragments of True Art and creative perfection, but Alex's editing notes make that seem unlikely.

[salem-witch-slut]

Keep The Pressure Up (18+)

Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader x Abby Anderson

SYNOPSIS: Ellie and Abby love to tease you and torture you. But tonight, they want to see how far you can actually go.

WARNINGS: OVERSTIMULATION, eating pussy, strap-on usage, lots of swearing, slight mental abuse, polyamory, face-sitting, Ellie is brutal as hell, Abby is the caring one here, NSFW AF

WORD COUNT: 2K

A/N: This was probably one of my most favorite smut pieces I did for kinktober last year. I mean, it's still october right? I'll post it again! Also, this should go without saying, but don't steal my shit and then post it on wattpad as your own. Someone did that with this fic and just switched Ellie's name so it was fuckin' Billie Eilish and Abby (make that make sense), but do NOT steal my work.

Dividers made by @cafekitsune

 “Abby, fucking hold her!”

“You think it’s easy? She squirms around too much!”

“Unbelievable; you’re built like a goddamn tank, and you can’t even hold her still.”

“You think it’s so fuckin’ easy? You hold her then!”

“Fine! Move, bitch. I got this.”

The shuffle on the bed was bordering on distracting as the two switched positions overtop of you. The blonde that attempted to hold down your squirming legs was now grabbing at both of your wrists with one hand, holding it over your head while picking up the discarded vibrator on the bed next to her.

The redhead had replaced her spot, cold hands digging into your shins and shoving your legs apart as far as you’d allow without trying to hurt you, keeping them down and letting them both see your glistening cunt that was slightly gaped out and dripping with the aftermath of the two stretching you out with the fat silicone toy resting on the nightstand.

You had already cum at least three times, but they weren’t finished with you. As much as you fought against them, they were relentless. At first it was simply Ellie holding your arms down and towering over you as Abby put her mouth to good use and licked your cunt until you were crying. Her hair was long undone from her braid and wild in golden waves around her head, tickling against your thighs as she feasted upon you.

But Ellie got impatient. After too long, she grabbed Abby by the hair and forced her to look up, demanding that they switch spots. You sobbed pathetically. Abby was the champion when it came to strapping you two, but Ellie? Ellie ate pussy like she was starving. You knew you didn’t stand a chance.

They traded off every few minutes, exchanging a few sweet kisses between each other before deciding on the ultimate torture for you. Abby kept your wrists pinned to your head and kept the vibrator in her hand, turning the toy on and pressing it against your lower stomach just to tease you.

“What do you think, babe?” Abby looked at Ellie who was grinning like a madwoman. “Think she needs more, doesn’t she?”

“A-Abby…” You looked up at the blonde who was biting her lip and pressed a little kiss to your cheek. “C-Can’t…”

“Oh, yes you can,” Abby ignored your fear and pressed the vibrator directly on your clit, smirking when you attempted to squirm away, but Ellie kept you down on the bed. “You will take it… gonna make you cum until we decide when it’s enough.”

The noise you made was borderline feral. You made a guttural cry of pleasure and Ellie laughed at your voice cracking. Her nails raked across your skin and admired how your hips twitched, bucking up against the vibrator in Abby’s massive hand and admiring how her veined hands flexed in place to keep it on your clit.

It hurt, but it felt so fucking good. You wanted them to stop, but also wanted more. You loved being the center of attention, and adored how they were trying so hard to make you speechless and a blubbering mess at their mercy. As if they didn’t make you like that all of the time anyway…

“Sit on her face,” Ellie said, almost like she was desperate to see more. Her hands flexed aggressively and you flinched when she touched a vein behind your knee, making your leg jerk. Abby looked up at Ellie, biting her lip and then licking over the teeth marks. “Go on. She keeps on screamin’, she needs to use that mouth.”

“Ellie—” Abby warned.

“Just fucking do it, Abby!” Ellie demanded. It was like she was also getting off to watching this, heart pounding as she held you down into the mattress. Abby shared a look with you and momentarily removed the vibrator from your pussy, making you gurgle on a breath of relief.

Ellie was getting impatient as she released your legs and crawled up closer, yanking the vibrator away from Abby’s hand and went back for the harness that Abby had discarded earlier. You were very distracted, watching the blonde strip off her black boxers and swing her leg over the side of your head, her pussy mere inches from your face.

“Fuck…” You salivated, hands reaching up and gently grabbing her ass, squeezing and playing with her strong muscle and making her blush with embarrassment. Had she been in her right mind, she would have been teasing you about having a thing for her ass, but it was your turn to knock the breath from her. “So fucking pretty.”

Abby bit her lip and rolled her eyes back for a second, reveling in your tongue against her slit and gently grinding down against your face. “Nnnn… that’s it pretty girl… just like that… just fuck—E-Ellie, what are you—“

The redhead grabbed a fistful of Abby’s long hair and kissed her desperately. She wiggled her way between your legs and Abby knew something was different when she felt your dull teeth graze her clit and she looked down to see Ellie sinking her strap inside of your pussy with little to no warning.

In protest, your hands began to smack at Abby’s rear, almost desperately begging for Ellie to slow down, but she refused. You screamed into the blonde’s cunt. In between huffs of pleasure, Abby told the redhead how you must have been feeling. “E-Ellie, Ellie slow down! It’s too much for her.”

Ellie chuckled. “Fucking bullshit, I saw you damn near fist her the other day… Not gonna fit? I’ll fucking make it fit.”

Abby held your thighs open and began to slowly rub your clit, trying to ease out more wetness from you and get your pussy nice and slick so you could easily take Ellie. A few extra seconds passed before Ellie grabbed you by the waist and slammed down inside of you. The tip of her massive toy cock kissed your cervix and you shrieked into Abby’s pussy.

Everything felt so overwhelming, and you thought you were drowning, and it wasn’t because Abby was wetter than a damn waterfall. There wasn’t much you could do other than keep licking and slurping on Abby’s clit like you were made to please her.

“Shit… fuck, she’s so good at this,” Abby praised you, rubbing one hand over your belly while the other reached up and grabbed the back of Ellie’s neck. “M-Made a really good choice with her, d-didn’t we El?”

Ellie was thrusting wildly, grip around your waist as she split you apart on her strap, pushing her forehead against Abby’s and peppering her handsome face in kisses like she couldn’t get enough of this woman in front of her. If she wasn’t being so rough, this moment may have been really cute and sweet.

“Wanna make her cum again…” Ellie huffed, rolling her hips and touching so deep inside of you with her dick that you saw stars behind your eyes. She scrambled forward, grasping the vibrator and when she pressed it to your clit where Abby’s hand was, you started screaming into Abby’s pussy once again.

Abby wanted to hear you, so she crawled off your face and sat down right next to you, watching how you squirmed and trembled in place, grabbing at Ellie’s wrist and trying to find some form of pause in her movements. There was none. Ellie wasn’t stopping. She had far too much stamina to let up any fucking time soon.

“Come on- Come on baby,” Ellie growled, her thrusts growing harder and harder with every passing second. You didn’t stand a chance. The buzzing of the vibrator, how she was hammering into your cervix, and the way that Abby was holding you at the shoulders to keep you down.

The noise you made when you finally climaxed was enough for Ellie to roll her eyes back in response, basking in the sounds you made. “Fuuuuuuck! Ohmygod, OHMYGOD! Ohfuckfuck! Nnnnnn…!! S-Stop! Stopstopstop Elliepl-please I c-cant—”

She didn’t turn off the vibrator or stop fucking you when you came. Abby had never seen her like this, and she was staring in wonder as her wife destroyed you without any form of mercy in her body. Her tattooed forearm flexed, and she pushed her other hand down into your abdomen, fucking deep into your cunt and watching you start to sob and shake against Abby’s hold.

“Not a chance, little slut,” Ellie barked meanly, angling the vibrator against your clit to give the maximum stimulation. Your hands grabbed at Abby’s arms, nails digging in and the blonde was so out of it that she almost didn’t notice your grip at all. She was too busy watching Ellie and how she was basically torturing you. That smirk on the redhead’s face was so beautiful and so terrifying… “You’re gonna cum again.”

You sobbed brokenly, squirming and thrashing around on the bed as your hips bucked upward, doing anything and everything to shake her off so she would pull the vibrator away, but this woman was uncompromising. Nothing in hell could stop her from making you cum again.

“Ellie,” Abby said, trying to gain her wife’s attention. She was seeing the tears streaming down your face and how your thighs were shaking so bad that you looked like you were going to break. “Ellie, you gotta let up—”

“She’s got one more in her,” Was all Ellie said, looking down at your pathetically whiny face and seeing how your eyes were rolling back in your head and you started screaming bloody murder. The neighbors definitely hated you all at this point. “Come on baby… cum one more time and I’ll stop…”

Your clit was going numb, and you wished her thrusts would stop, but you were falling into the dark again. The pleasure was blinding, and you had no choice but to comply with Ellie’s words. Your climax this time was so intense that your vision went spotty and you lost your voice, heart racing and eyes crossing so bad that Ellie started laughing.

“Fuck, look at her Abby,” Ellie teased, wiggling the vibrator around on your clit and pulling out more screams from you. “Look at how fucked dumb she is…”

“Ellie,” Abby reached out and grabbed her wife’s wrist, carefully removing the vibrator from your cunt and turning it off. “Ellie, ease up…”

The redhead complied this time, slowing her thrusts and then carefully removing her strap from you. A white ring was around the base of the cock, and she smirked, pulling off the harness and flopping down onto the bed next to you. She left soft little kisses on your neck and cheek, Abby following her lead and pushing the hair away from your face.

Your focus was only on breathing. Your muscles twitched a little and you felt like everything was going dark, eyes fluttering closed and body going completely limp on the mattress.

Abby chuckled and gently caressed your face. “That’s it, sweet girl… you get some rest, did so good for us, didn’t you?”

“Prettiest little fucktoy we could ever have,” Ellie taunted, kissing your face and then kissing Abby’s face.

“Really did a number on her, didn’t we?”

Ellie snorted. “We? Please, I did everything.”

“Oh, bullshit, you did not!”

“Yeah? You wanna bet on that?”

Before Abby and Ellie could prove their dominance by fucking each other, you let out a whine of protest and grabbed at Ellie’s waist, holding her down onto the bed and whining. “Don’t go anywhere… please…”

Ellie smirked, loving when you got clingy and whiny like an attached puppy. She fell down onto her back and turned to her side, holding you close and resting her head on the pillow above yours. Abby sighed, ignoring the throbbing in her cunt as she laid down next to you, gently rubbing your tummy and soothing your trembling muscles.

“Once she’s rested,” Abby breathed slowly, looking up to meet Ellie’s eyes. “We’re gonna double-team you.”

Ellie snorted. “Good luck doming me. Couldn’t even hold her down.”

“Ugh, can’t wait to fuck that attitude out of you.”

[magniloquent-raven]

I'm getting distracted from my current projects by someone else's post again someone tell me to stop going on tumblr while I have WIPs lmfao

@rosetterer this isn't EXACTLY what you posted about but it does get there in the end

**

Twenty-four hours has never seemed like such an insurmountably long time.

Buck's had long shifts before, the boring ones when he'd stare at the alarms on the wall, willing them to go off—he can picture Maddie's disappointed scowl if she ever found out about that, but he swears he was only hoping for something small and harmless to break up the monotony—and the busy ones. Ones that leave his ears ringing with phantom sirens by the end. Those days only ever seem long in retrospect, when he's bone-tired and trying to remember all the names he asked for.

But now every shift seems to find new and shittier ways to be gruelling. Eddie's miserable and trying to act like he isn't. There's this weird, uncomfortable tension brewing between Hen and Chim. Ravi got himself transferred to B shift—probably to get away from Gerrard, and Buck can't exactly blame him, but he sort of does anyway and their new probie is terrible, and... then there's Gerrard.

Like, Buck already knew he was a piece of work, but. Knowing and experiencing are two very different things. He could barely stand keeping his mouth shut at the medal ceremony when he met the man for five seconds, and now he has to put up with him making smug, belittling comments towards all his friends, all the time. Constantly needing to remind himself he doesn't want to get fired is actually killing him.

It doesn't help that every so often he'll remember Tommy's offhand Captain Gerrard was like having the dad I already had, with a pang as he wonders what exactly Tommy grew up with. What parts of Gerrard's condescending tyranny were familiar to him. Phillip Buckley may not have been father of the year, but maybe never being looked directly at was better than being raised neck deep in toxic waste.

Every time he remembers he gets the urge to pull out his phone and call Tommy up just to... he doesn't even know. Just to hear his voice, maybe. Know if he's doing okay.

Another reason work days seem so long now, if he's being honest. He's always counting down the hours until he can see Tommy again. Like a kid on the last day of school, watching the clock tick closer and closer to summer vacation.

So, of course, right near the end of a particularly busy shift, Gerrard gets them all lined up for a lecture about how sloppy that last save was. Everyone did something wrong, and everyone needs to hear about all the ways they could have gotten someone killed, like they don't all know how risky the job is already.

By the time he's finished telling Chim it's a miracle he managed to convince anyone to let him out on calls, Buck is clenching his jaw hard enough to make his teeth ache.

"I'm sure Captain Soft-Touch loved telling you all it was okay to be mediocre, and that you were trying your best," Gerrard sneers at them all, waving a dismissive hand at very idea of Bobby's captaincy. "But the coddling ended when he retired. Sparing your feelings is going to get people killed. Diaz!" He shouts, abrupt, turning on his heel towards Eddie. Eddie doesn't flinch, but Buck does.

"Yes, sir?" He's coolly polite, and his face is carefully blank, but his posture is tense.

"If I ever catch you checking your phone at a scene again, I'll make sure you're mopping floors for the rest of your life."

Eddie's expression hardens. It was a fender-bender and Eddie didn't even touch his phone until everyone was accounted for and packed into the ambulance. "It was a text from my son. Sir." His tone veers a little to the left of polite.

"I don't care if it was from the goddamn Pope, when you're in the field your focus stays on scene. Next time your brat needs something tell him to go cry to his mother about it."

This time when Buck flinches, everyone else in line does too. Hen bites down on a grimace. Chim hisses quietly through his teeth.

"I can't do that," Eddie says flatly. "What with her being dead and all."

The firehouse is silent for a long, horrible moment. That might've taken the wind out of any decent person's sails, Buck thinks. At the very least most people would've retreated into awkwardness and ended the lecture entirely.

Gerrard's brow pinches angrily. "Don't get smart with me, Diaz."

Buck's not sure it's possible to hate someone more than he hates their new captain right now.

"I don't care about your little sob story excuses, I care that you're sloppy and distracted. If you can't handle the job and the kid, drop one of them."

Oh, he was wrong.

He hates this man so much he's choking on it, it's clogging his throat like bile and he's running out of strength to care that he shouldn't spit it out, spew it everywhere and ruin everything just for the chance of hurting this man in the process. He feels like his skin is bursting at the seams.

Eddie's biting the inside of his cheek, rage and sorrow warring silently on his face.

And Buck breaks. Bursts. "Hey, Captain, that's—"

"Can it, Buckley," Gerrard cuts him off before he can even start. It's not angry, it's not anything, he brushes Buck off like he's an annoying fly buzzing in his ear, barely worth glancing at for the two seconds it takes to tell him he doesn't care. "You're all dismissed. Get out of my sight."

Some of them flee, scurrying to their lockers, the kitchen, anywhere but here. A couple of people throw backwards glances before they walk away. Hen and Chim exchange grim looks. Eddie disappears out the back door in an angry haze. And Buck...

Buck feels. Empty. Small. Like he cut himself open trying to relieve the pressure and now there's just nothing left. No one to patch up the wound, and no reason for any of it, he didn't make an impact, he didn't help anyone, he stood there listening to his friends get degraded, and now—now he's feeling sorry for himself?

It's stupid. He's stupid. He feels like shit because, what, because he didn't get yelled at? Because his piece of shit captain took a break from implying he's a disgusting pervert?

He thinks himself in circles about it his whole way home, the pit in his stomach getting a little deeper every time he tries to will it away.

He's wallowed himself halfway through a six-pack, staring sightlessly at his TV, by the time his front door opens.

"Evan?"

One of the knots in his chest loosens. "Yeah," he calls out, not bothering to sound less pathetic than he is. "In here."

"Hey." Tommy's stopped next to the stairs, eyeing him. His gaze is assessing, but his tone is soft. He's always so careful with Buck. "Bad day?"

Buck takes another sip of his beer. Shrugs.

"Ah, one of those."

The couch cushions dip as Tommy takes a seat next to him. He's close enough that Buck doesn't have to look at him to know he's there. There's warmth radiating off him. The woodsy scent of his aftershave. Buck presses their knees together, and exhales properly for the first time in hours.

He knows he could talk about whatever he wants and Tommy would let him. He's waiting for Buck to take the lead here. Buck could avoid the issue entirely and decide to talk about anything. The fact that he can't really tell the difference between the fancy beer Tommy insists is better than the crap Buck's drinking right now. The documentary about bees he's pretending to watch. The goddamn weather.

What comes out of his mouth is a quiet, "I feel like an idiot."

Tommy pulls the beer bottle out of Buck's loose grip, puts it down next to the couch, and then takes Buck's hand in both of his. "Why?"

Buck scrubs at his eyes. "I..." He catalogues the tiny scars on Tommy's knuckles. Two, three, little dots on his index finger. A lopsided vee on his thumb. "Something happened at work."

"Did Gerrard say something to you?" There's an edge to Tommy's question, something sharp and flinty. It makes Buck's heart do dumb little somersaults.

"No." He stops, shame burning his cheeks. "Not. Not to me. That's... He was lecturing everybody, and I..."

"Evan." Tommy grips his chin, firmly, gently, guiding Buck's face until he looks him in the eye. There's a sympathetic twist to his mouth. "Tell me."

He does. As best he can when it feels like what's didn't happen is more important, and he can barely put into words why that is. But trying helps, a little. Trying to whittle it down into an explanation forces him to look at the whole of it, and realize it's not looming over him anymore.

Maybe it's just Tommy's hands on him, soothing the hurt away.

"I dunno. Feels like I could have done something differently, maybe"

Tommy hums, tilting his head in acknowledgement. "You could've."

Buck winces.

"But it wouldn't have turned out any better."

Oh.

A flower blooms on the TV, purple and white petals reaching for the sun. Buck toys with Tommy's fingers, and shifts his leg closer, hooking their ankles together.

"It felt so shitty," he mutters.

"I know."

He would, wouldn't he. Buck gets that pang in his chest again, and he pushes the rest of the way into Tommy's space. Tommy wraps his arms around him, and drops a kiss into his curls, seemingly content to let Buck situate himself however he wants.

He kind of wishes Tommy wasn't still wearing jeans, but asking him to take his pants off might send the wrong message.

"You don't think I'm, like...a bad friend, right?" He cringes his way through the question.

"No." Tommy responds matter-of-factly and without hesitation. Then the corner of his mouth twitches. "I think you're a very good boy."

Buck's entire head feels like it's on fire. A grin starts to creep across his face. It might be the first time he's smiled all day. "Oh, yeah?"

"Mhm."

Maybe he should ask Tommy to take his jeans off after all.

[thankskenpenders]

And now for something new

So, here's something I was never planning on doing, but I just couldn't shake the idea... Thanks Ken Penders is gaining a sister blog featuring an entirely different comic franchise!

Introducing... Thanks Steve Ditko, a blog where I read the Earth-616 Spider-Man comics, starting all the way back in the '60s! It's gonna be much more casual and less thorough than how I run things here on TKP, though, which I'll explain in a sec.

If seeing me post weird bits from old Spider-Man comics sounds fun and you need no further info, then just head right on over to Thanks Steve Ditko. But for longtime TKP readers, I know you probably have questions...

Number one: Why?

Spider-Man's always been my favorite superhero, and with the Spider-Verse movies kicking ass and my excitement building for the new Insomniac game, I've been in a Spidey mood. Inevitably, a thought occurred to me: Maybe I should actually read the comics that everything else is built off of and see the wildly varying contributions of all the original creators, rather than filtering them through big budget adaptations. If I can power through One Piece and all these other manga with hundreds of chapters, it can't be that hard... right?

And, well, after a few issues I quickly realized that my options were to either clog up my other accounts with random Spider-Man panels for years, or to just make a side blog. And so the side blog was born.

Two: Will this blog replace Thanks Ken Penders?

NO!!!!!!!!!

Okay but prove it

To allow the two to exist side-by-side, Thanks Steve Ditko will have a different format than what Thanks Ken Penders developed. Rather than an in-depth guided tour that critically analyzes every story beat of every issue, TSD will just be a place for amusing panels and brief thoughts as I casually read the comics at my own pace.

If you've seen me make a few tweets about reading Spider-Man recently, I'm basically just moving that to a dedicated Tumblr. It's a place for me to dump these things so that it doesn't fill up my media tab on Twitter for the next decade. (You know, assuming Twitter is still around in a decade.) There will be many issues where I only post two panels that I thought were funny. There will be issues where I don't have anything to say at all. Maybe I'll reach a run that I just cannot get into, and I start skipping around more. Who knows!

This may sound similar to what I thought this blog would be before it blew up. Aside from the simple fact that there's already mountains of Spider-Man commentary out there and therefore less of a void for me to fill, one of the main steps I'll be taking to avoid repeating the past is not enabling an ask box on TSD. I do not need people to ask me to go into ten times more detail on everything. I do not need to write seven essay-length responses to questions about Spider-Man minutiae every day. I do not need a place for people to chide me for not covering certain scenes, issues, or ancillary series.

It also won't have any kind of update schedule. I'm trying to keep it very casual. I'm reading these comics at my own pace, and if I feel like sharing a moment or commenting on something while doing so? It goes there. That's it.

(On the subject of format changes, I'm also listing the issue, writer, and penciller in the body of every post. This is a thing I wish I'd done on TKP so that people didn't misattribute every weird Archie Sonic panel I post to Penders.)

Three: So when will TKP come back from hiatus? You said it'd come back after you finished SLARPG!

I don't know! Sorry. I have a couple things on the backburner right now for TKP, but I'm not sure when I'll get back to proper updates where I read more comics.

I wanted to bring TKP back this year, and that's still possible. The main hurdle is that I want to reread my own archive (again) as a refresher, which is, uh. A lot of posts. I've developed a high standard for myself on here, and I feel like I wouldn't be doing my job right if I forgot half the ongoing subplots and character arcs and didn't bring them up in my analysis. Especially when I'm discussing the work of an author as obsessed with continuity as Ian Flynn. Unfortunately, the nature of this blog means that every time I go on another long hiatus for Life Reasons I have even more comic continuity to catch up on than last time.

(This is a big part of why I'm making Thanks Steve Ditko an extremely casual blog instead of promising to become a Lore Expert on 60+ years of Marvel.)

Mostly I've just been very burnt out this year after having finally finished a video game that took almost eight years to make. I haven't really had the energy for any creative projects, including TKP. But I feel a little bit of a spark here with Spider-Man, so I'm chasing that feeling to try to get back into the swing of blogging about comics - no pun intended.

So, basically, bear with me on this as I start this low-energy side project. But hopefully folks will enjoy Thanks Steve Ditko as its own thing, too.

Look forward to goofy shit like this

[jadeddangel]

The Owl House x Reader

General Headcannons for The Owl House x Reader

Older!Luz Noceda:

Her love language is physical touch and gift giving

She's a cuddle bug

If your sick or not feeling well she'll refuse to leave your side

The kind of girl to write poetry that doesn't make sense

But you can still tell that she does it cause she loves you

She's a horrible cook but don't tell her that

She buys or makes charms for your staffs

She kisses any kind of small wounds that you have

Luz let out a loud gasp "ay! Mi amor! Tu estas bien? Does it hurt?" Luz asked frantically as she held your hand looking at the literal smallest paper cut on your finger before digging in her pocket and pulling out a small bandaid and putting it over the cut and kissing over the band-aid " all better mi amor!"

"Uhm Luz? Why do you just have bandaids?" You asked confused. Luz straightened her lips into a line "uhm.. a good witch is always prepared?" Luz said questioningly

She buys you themed band-aids from the human realm

she tries to teach you Spanish

She's not the best teacher but you can see her effort

Older! Amity Blight:

Her love language is acts of service and words of affirmation

She's really big on arts and crafts

She likes to make you things

She likes to let your palismans play together

She likes to do things like make your laundry and things

Cause in some part of her mind she thinks it'll make you love her more

She's rather shy with PDA at first

She's a touch starved baby

Ghost and your palisman were cuddled up in a little window hammock that amity had made for them

"Hey amity? Do you think our palismans live eachother like we love eachother?" You asked curiously

Amity blushed a bit "oh quiet take your nap you were so adamant on it earlier" amity said defensively

It doesn't matter if you've been dating for years

She still gets flustered if you say anything too sweet

She shows her love with actions rather than words

So she often makes you food

She's an amazing cook btw

Eda The Owl Lady:

Her love language is quality time and gift giving

She likes giving you shiny things

Like rings, jewels, anything that shimmers or shines really

She doesn't particularly like her curse being around you

But after she makes her piece with it she's fine cuddling you

Whether that's in her harpy form or in her full form

She's starting to realize that it won't hurt you

Eda groaned holding her head. "Eda? Dear? Are you ok? Is the owl bothering you again?" You asked sweetly sitting up in edas nest. Eda sighed and nodded "its just getting worse and I don't know what to do it just.. it's like it wants to be with you? If that makes sense?" Eda tried to explain as you nodded along.

"Yknow, eda I don't really mind the owl.. it's rather sweet after you guys had that heart to heart, so how about you just let it put? And if anything goes wrong I'll have elixir on hand" you reassured the older woman

That night was one of the first of many that eda let the owl interact with you

Raine Whispers:

Their love language is the same as Eda's, quality time and gift giving

They can't really cook anything but eggs

They're so sweet

They really like to make little songs/ lullabies for you

but they're willing to learn anything you'd be willing to teach them

They're not really touch starved

But if you so much as lock your pinkys together they're melting in your arms

They loves you with their whole heart so when they're performing or teaching your the only thing on their mind

In all truth the thought of you probably helped with their stage fright

They gets flustered so easy

Raine was playing their fiddle for their class they were playing the song they had made for you.

Raine finished the song after a few moments before bowing and putting their fiddle away gently

They had a smile on their face at the thought of you in the next classroom over listening to them play... just for you

They always sat and ate lunch with you in their classroom

The Collector:

His love language is gift giving and acts of service

Game nights literally every damn night

He likes to hide your things all over your home

He always takes your petty arguments as a joke

He may not be the healthiest but he's definitely always there for you

He's a cuddle bug

Practically clinging to your side where ever you were

He isn't shy about pda in the slightest

The collector was clinging to your sleeve "nooo don't leave!" Collector whined trying to tug yoy back into the house

You sighed "baby please I'm begging you just let go of me I'll be back soon, I've got a class to teach" you bargained

The collector let go of you gently "fine.." he pouted

He's beyond clingy

It's a problem sometimes but you manage

Older!Hunter:

His love language is acts of service, quality time, and gift giving

He makes you little cravings of animals

Especially wolves

Definitely his favorite earthly animal

He's touch starved

Please give him hugs and kisses

Really likes to hold your hand

His hands are rough and calloused after the years of being a golden guard and then his hobby of carving palisman

He likes to visit earth with you for small dates every now and then

Hunter held your hand gently as he led you through a forest on earth, hunter had been planning this small, somewhat simple date over the past month

Hunter had set up some fairy lights and a picnic deep in the woods, he had been quiet and mysterious the whole walk but soon spoke softly. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna kill you or anything" hunter joked

You laughed a bit but paused as you saw the at area "oh hunter.. this is beautiful "

Hunter smiled and helped you sit down "yea.. just like you" he said sweetly

He was sweet and romantic like this alot of the time

He's corny but it's relieving to know that he really cares for you

[plushmer]

Katsuki gets pulled into his bosses office right before lunch with is direct supervisor and boss staring at him. He has no idea what he's done this time.

"Well it seems we have a communication issue..."

Katsuki smirks cuz he fucking knows this. No one can communicate any information properly in this damn building.

"It seems some of your emails have been coming across as rude, and that you're mad. Everyone is finding it difficult to deal with you"

Katsuki's heart sinks.

He's been doing so well. He did the therapy. He's been around this specific group of professionals for 5 years! No one has complained about his attitude before?! He finally felt at home. Finally found a place he could be himself without worrying He's going to accidentally insult someone with his quick to the point answers. He's blunt. He's succinct. He gets things done with efficiency. And he had been praised in the past for it!

...then the bomb drops.

"We really love you here Bakugou. You're unreplaceable. But I'm going to be honest, I had to fight tooth and nail to keep you here. That's how bad this is"

Oh, this is an ambush

This is fear tactics

This goes on for an hour. Them telling Katsuki that he's great but he also needs to change his behavior and attitude or *hint not so subtle hint* he will be forced to resign.

Katsuki goes home for lunch and just cries. Full blown sobbing on the floor. And that's how Ejirou finds him.

"Hey! You're home early. I was just finishing up the..." Eijirou trails off.

Katsuki knows he should say something. Anything. To make Ei know he's OK. But he's not ok. And he can't talk.

Ejirou kneels on the floor and puts his hand next to Katsuki's. He's been through this before many times with him. And Kat has helped Ei though many breakdowns as well. Ejirou knows by now that sometimes touch is the wrong answer.

Katsuki grabs his hand and Eijirou's restraint breaks. He scoops Kat up against him and just holds tight until all the overwhelming emotions can subside.

When Kat finally finds his voice he tells Eijirou all that's happened. Ei is furious but he doesn't show it. These people have been in their home. Have been their friends for years. He's confused and hurt as well but let's Katsuki spill it all.

"And the worst thing is! I have to go back to WORK! I can't take the rest of the day off. I have lives on the line here!" Katsuki all but screams

"I know love. And you know what? You're great at what you do. You have friends that support you. And I'll be here when you get back" Eijirou replies

The rest of the day is a haze. Katsuki keeps dropping things. He ran into a wall at some point. Even the intern asked if he was OK.

He's not that teenager that can't reply with simple kindness anymore. He's thirty fucking four at this point. He spend 15 years straight moving from place to place with Eijirou always right behind or beside him the whole way.

That's probably why this hurt so much. He finally found a place that accepted him. As himself. He wasn't pushed to be something he wasn't. He wasn't silenced. He could do his job and do it well.

So he smiles at the intern "yeh, I'm good. Just a rough day"

His smiles are not hard to earn anymore. They're given freely and are real. That's what happens when you feel safe.

But after that ... interaction ... with management. He doesn't feel safe. Not anymore. Now he has to watch his words, his tone, his mannerisms, fuck! are they going to make him stop swearing?

He's spiraling. He knows he is. He just needs to get home.

Ei's there. Kat can finally relax and watch the show they were continuing.

Everything is still a little fuzzy. Only hearing bits a pieces of Eijirou talking. He's pretty sure he should be listening but the meeting just keeps looping in his head. Katsuki forces himself to focus back in.

And then it happens. All his fears confirmed. He is actually the worst person on the planet. He doesn't deserve this job he's fought for his entire life, he doesn't deserve the friends he has, he doesn't deserve the husband who's supported him along the way because ...

Katsuki just said something and Eijirou called him rude.

*in reality. Eijirou made a joke. Katsuki said something sarcastic. And Eijirou jokingly said "~well that was rude" while laughing*

But Katsuki's not laughing. Not anymore. He's staring straight ahead and not seeing. His voice doesn't work anymore. His peripherals are gone.

And then Eijirou is in front of him. Hovering.

Then the tears, slowly, then sobbing. Eijirou slams him into a hug. They've learned before that the best way to ground Katsuki and stop a panic attack before it gets too far is to physically do it. Eijirou wraps his arms under Katsuki's armpits, grabs his shoulders, and pushes him down while squishing him into himself.

Eijirou knew what happened this time. He did this. He said something stupid. Something that usually wouldn't have any effect...

"You just confirmed I'm rude!" Katsuki hiccups between sobs

"And we've also confirmed that I'm an asshole" Ejirou whispers. "But that doesn't mean I don't deserve love. You deserve love. I need you to say it"

Those are the hardest words Katsuki can say when he ISNT having a panic attack.

"Or sign it"

So Katsuki shoves his hand into Eijirou's chest the best he can while being literally smothered in affection. His thumb, index, and pinky out. The sign for "I love you" pushing into Eijirou's chest

Eijirou doesn't notice the sign, just the pushing. "I'm not letting go until you SAY IT" Ejirou weaves his hand into Katsuki's hair to the roots and pulls "Say it. I deserve love"

The hair pulling grounds him more.

Katsuki is able to snark "eh, sometimes but not usually" and he wiggles his extend fingers on Eijirou's chest.

Eijirou finally notices the sign and that that's probably the best he's going to get for now. He pulls Katsuki's hair again for good measure and then gives him a bone crushing hug.

Katsuki actually reciprocates. Even with Eijirou, hugs are not his thing. He will always leave an arm down, or ball his fists, or go limp. But right now Katsuki is thankful. Thankful that his husband knows him so well and he wants Ei to know that it is felt, the love.

"Uraraka is on her way over" Eijirou casually states before letting Katsuki go

"Hah?! Why?"

"She's coming over so you can vent, or not, cuz I have to go to class"

"Oh, right, I forgot it was tonight" Katsuki whispers.

He hadn't even thought about the fact he would be home alone tonight while Ejirou takes his once a week emergency medical training class.

Uraraka arrives about ten minutes later. Just enough time for them to pull out her favorite blankets and clean up the tissues from crying.

Eijirou leaves, reluctantly, and gives Uraraka a look. She knows. She doesn't need to know the details but she knows something is up. She id alwayd there to talk, to listen, or to just sit and watch TV for Katsuki.

And Katsuki sits. Not knowing how to start. 'Thanks for coming over so I don't ... internally combust?' No.

Eventually Uraraka gives an opening "I haven't really done much today" she laughs "mostly stayed in bed"

"Any particular reason? Or just having a bad brain day?" Katsuki asks

"Eh. Nothing in particular. Just having a day. What about you?"

And there it was. The perfect opening.

So he tells her everything. She listens. He doesn't cry this time. And she lets him randomly pop in with extra stuff he remembers from the meeting that makes him mad even if it's not even the topic they're currently discussing.

It's good

He needed the reminder. He has friends. He has family. All who love him for who he is.

Whatever comes next at this job, good or bad, it's not the end.

He deserves to feel safe. He deserves love.

Edit: I proofread it.

[qqueenofhades]

May I ask about prompts 14 and 38 for Dreamling, perhaps?

Dr. Robert Gadling presently has ninety-nine problems, and students who cannot read the module handbook are, at a minimum, ninety-eight of them. (How did they finish school? Take their GCSEs or A-Levels, any of it, while being functionally illiterate? Etc. etc. dismal condition of British state education and indeed the entire British state under the Tories, but still.) He has just fired off a hopefully polite-sounding group email advising everyone to please have a proper look at the posted content before sending him individual queries, when there's a knock on his door and he glances up, grateful for the distraction. "Yeah?"

"Rob?" It's Philippa, again, which makes his heart sink on reflex. They've already had several serious conversations intended to make him consider the possibility of becoming Head of School when her term's up next May, and -- frankly, over his dead body, which in his case is not at all a metaphor. It turns out, however, that she's not here to harass him to take on more professional responsibility, but rather to attend to his personal life. "Your boyfriend's skulking in the foyer and frightening the freshers again. Make him knock it off."

"My boyfr -- ?" Yeah, yeah, all right, the gentleman doth protest too much. Hob hasn't felt up to taking Dream to any faculty functions just yet, but he did tell Amira the other evening at the welcome-back mixer that he was seeing someone, and the news must have spread as fast as any other juicy department gossip. Hob sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Right. Thanks, Philippa. I'll tell him off."

With that, not sad to get away from the horror of his inbox, Hob pushes back his chair and gets to his feet, trotting out his office door and down the stairs. Even before he descends into sight of the foyer, he can tell where the problem is located. Dream is standing spookily just inside the door, in full goth-black, long-coat, pale-faced, looming-in-your-nightmares splendor, and students are indeed outright sprinting to get past him. Others seem to think he's some weird piece of performance art from the theatre department and are asking for selfies, which makes him stare at them even more. Hob swallows a groan, speeds up, and reaches the ground floor. "Oy," he hisses at the unrepentant King of Dreams. "What are you doing here?"

As per fucking usual, Morpheus haughtily disdains to provide a sensible answer (or indeed, any answer). Hob adores the skinny eldritch weirdo, he really does, but one problem he did not foresee now that they're officially an item is that Dream has gotten downright clingy. After going a hundred years between seeing each other, with each of those meetings usually ending in disaster, Hob's still getting used to the idea of seeing him regularly -- weekly, even. It's not like he minds. Variety is the spice of immortal life, and all that. But it does mean that they need to have a few conversations about boundaries, and this is definitely one of them.

"I'm busy," Hob says, doing his best to sound stern. "I've got work to do, love. Like we do in the human world, eh? Can't all sit around in magical throne rooms, brood, and spin magical stories."

Dream looks miffed at this lightweight estimation of his professional duties. He opens his mouth for some sort of pompous reprimand, but Hob holds up a hand. "Be back at five PM and save me from the emails, and we can jog off together somewhere, all right? But not until then. And stop scaring the students, or Philippa will have my head. Or make me be the Head, and I'm not sure which one's worse."

Dream once more appears about to object -- he still hasn't gotten in a word edgewise, which is probably for the best. But Hob looks furtively in either direction, then kisses Dream on the cheek, spins him around, and propels him out the exit, whereupon he looks very much like an extremely ruffled bird -- raven, probably, which Matthew is bound to find amusing. Mother of God, Hob's life is strange.

Biting a smile despite himself, he trudges back upstairs and dutifully applies himself to the remainder of the paperwork and otherwise makes sure that everything is in order. Then at 5:04pm, he gets up, grabs his things, and heads back downstairs, where Morpheus is waiting for him. "You are," he announces stiffly, "late."

"Only by four minutes. Pretty sure the world won't end." Hob grins crookedly. "Eager to see me, then?"

Morpheus, of course, cannot countenance actually saying this aloud, but it doesn't matter. He holds out his hand, Hob decides he doesn't care who sees him take it, and does so. Then all at once, the familiar surroundings of the Department of History stretch and ripple and fade away, and the next instant, they're not there at all, or London, or Earth. They're here, in Morpheus's home. The Dreaming.

As usual, the place looks eerie, magical, mystical, and lovely, and Hob is getting somewhat more used to the abrupt transition between worlds, so he only swallows hard a few times and then is good to go. They ascend to the castle, he and Lucienne greet each other warmly, and then Morpheus jealously squires him up to his rooms at the top of the tower, beneath the vast dome. The great bed is a temptation, and doubtless they will end up there before too long, but a supper is already laid, glimmering in the fey candles, and Hob blows out a relieved breath. "Could eat an ox. You're a lifesaver, darling."

Morpheus looks the usual blend of awkward and pleased he always does when Hob casually uses endearments or expresses affection. "Does this make up for me alarming your pupils, then?"

"More 'n." Hob sinks into the chair and tries not to wolf down everything in sight. "But still. Don't do it again."

They eat (here in his own realm, in his own stuff, Morpheus eats too). They drink, they talk. It's like old times, and more. Afterward, they go outside to gaze at the stars, a thousand times brighter and more brilliant than anything on Earth, and Morpheus's tousled dark head sinks slowly onto Hob's shoulder, like a feral cat finally becoming close enough with one trusted person to let itself be petted, let itself be loved. Hob bites another smile, this one unspeakably tender, and leans in to kiss Dream's hair. Aye, his life is bloody strange, and it always has been. But he would not trade it for the world.

[jpeg-dot-jpeg]

😈

5 and... jaytimkon??? (For the drabble prompts)

Jpeg fr the things I would do for a jaytimkon from you akfjslajdlaja

-@bi-bats

I haven't drabbled much into jaytimkon territory, but i'll do it for you, beloved <];)

"So how long have you two been married?"

It comes out of Jason's mouth as a joke. Or, at least, he means it as a joke. He expects a scoff or an eyeroll or maybe a besotted smile. He isn't quite sure what to do with the startled look Kon gives him.

"What?" the guy asks, stupidly thick lashes fluttering in abashment. His cheeks go pink and Jason gets the sense he's resisting the urge to fan his face like a scandalized genteel woman.

Jason nods his head towards the door that Tim had just left through after walking in, saying, "Do you-" and promptly getting handed exactly what he needed from Kon without having to specify what it was. It isn't the first time it's happened since the two of them have set up shop at the little basement coffee station - separate, of course, from Tim's regular coffee station up in his living area - waiting for Tim to work his genius.

It's kind of magical the way they operate on the same wavelength - finishing each other's sentences, knowing what the other needs, vollying inside jokes back and forth too fast for Jason to even pretend to keep up. It makes some kind of longing crawl up in his throat. So he teases instead of saying Can I get in on that? Instead of saying Stop doing that before I start uncontrollably sobbing. Instead of saying Who do I have to kill to get me a bitch like that?

Kon stutters out, "We're not- that's- why would you-"

"Oh my god, breathe," Jason orders, taking pity on him. "I was messing with you. I just meant that you two practically share a brain. It's kinda freaky. But also...kinda cool."

Kon looked down and shrugged. "Just known each other a long time. Lotta missions, lotta near-death experiences. Watching Santa get blown up together probably had something to do with it."

"You- what?"

"It's whatever." Kon waves a dismissive hand through the air. "We're close, but - I dunno. You bats have something else entirely going on. I'm sure you understand him better than I do."

"Oh, come on," he can't help but protest. "Just 'cause we're both bats doesn't mean we have some kinda psychic connection. If we could communicate the way the two of you do, we'd all beat each other up a lot less."

"No, seriously," Kon insists, face open and imploring in a way that makes Jason want to cover him with a blanket so no one else can catch him like that. "Sometimes I think he's the alien, but then I hear how he talks about you, the way all of you guys work together, and it's- it's a little cult-y, but it's also really cool? Like you guys have a secret language. Plus, it doesn't hurt that he's been obsessed with you for, like, ever, so there's kind of that hero worship thing going on, and you're actually smart enough to keep up with the stuff he talks about and-"

There's something in Kon's voice that tickles the back of his brain, something between He talks about me? and 'Batclan Cult Allegations.' It sounds stretched thin and bittersweet and tense. The pieces fall together faster than he can relegate them.

"Wait a minute," he interupts. "Are you jealous? Of me?"

The idea is bizarre, absurd, unthinkable. It makes a little bird flutter around in his stomach, but he isn't sure whether that has more to do with the lovely, mysterious creature in the next room over or the goregous, good-natured creature in front of him.

Kon shrugs again, refusing to meet Jason's gaze. "Who wouldn't be?"

A warmth surges in his gut, rushing to his palms in a way that makes him want to reach out and share the heat. He puts several years of laborious therapy to use and decides to take a chance.

"And here I was, all green with envy over watching the two of you together."

And once those ethereal blue eyes lock onto his, Jason can't look away.

"Maybe if we put our heads together," he continues, hoping Kon can hear all the things he isn't saying as well, "We can parse out what the hell Tim is talking about all the time, 'cause I don't have a fuckin' clue."

The laughter that earns him sounds like bells. And when Tim walks in and asks, "What's so funny?" the two of them share a knowing look, something just between them.

[radical-ghostface]

Missing Time Chapter.4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: It had been 10 years since Sebastian Sallow was sent to Azkaban for the murder of his uncle, Solomon Sallow. He was finally released and was intent on getting revenge against MC and Ominis for turning him in, but upon arrival at their tiny house, he made a shocking discovery. MC had a daughter, and the child was his.

Warnings: Mentions of Dark!MC, Depression, PTSD, and a whole boatload of angst.

Pairings: Dad!Sebastian Sallow X F!MC, Ominis Gaunt X Anne Sallow

(Alright ya'll this one is definitely lengthier than the last 3 chapters. I wanted to go more into MC and her life and how everything has affected her, and may have gotten carried away. Sorry I keep leaving you all in suspense 😬 lol anyways! I hope you all enjoy 🙂)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MC sighed absent-mindedly as she took pieces of her daughter's hair in her hands, swirling them around each other until they formed braids. Ominis sat across from them, smiling happily.

From the outside looking in, she probably seemed so content with her little life, happy even. 'What a beautiful family', people would think. What those people would never see was that her heart was heavy—filled with a deep despair and longing for what could have been and never would be. She had never quite been the same since the.. incident.

Most days, when she knew no one was watching, she would just lay there, not eating or speaking to anyone—lost in her own mind, in the painful memories of the past.

On these days, she would reach into her bedside table and pull out the only picture of him she had left, the one thing she had kept hidden, just for herself. She would cry for hours upon hours as she allowed herself to drown in the sea of emotions and pain. Her heart longed for him in ways that nothing else could possibly ever remedy.

MC never forgave herself for being absent the day Sebastian was harshly ripped from her life and thrown into Azkaban. See, what most people didn't realize was that she had no part in his imprisonment.

After everything had happened with Solomon, she was almost immediately thrust into her confrontation with Rookwood, preventing her from fully processing what had just happened.

"Children should be seen and not heard."

Hearing Rockwood utter the words she'd heard from Sebastian countless times set a fire inside her, and she was out for blood. This man was responsible for everything that had happened to the Sallow twins, and she would have vengeance for that.

MC was more vicious than she had ever been. The loving and childish spark was gone from her eyes, a cold murderous look replacing them. She was almost unrecognizable.

"Crucio!"

He crumpled over in pain, screaming at the top of his lungs.

She found she took great joy in his pain, watching him writhe around like a helpless little muggle.

She knelt next to his screaming form, taking it all in.

"You don't think I'm finished with you yet, do you?" she laughed coldly. "You have a great deal to pay for, and I'm going to make sure you pay for it with your blood."

Perhaps she had taken it too far because, by the time she was finally finished, he was a bloody babbling mess. Begging for it to end, for her to award him a small amount of kindness and just put him out of his misery. These pleas were ignored.

With every curse she cast on Rookwood, a flash of Solomon's last moments in the catacomb flooded her mind. Rookwoods curse on Anne had destroyed who Sebastian was as a person—taken away his innocence, pushed him to become a murderer. She was never going to let that go.

"Oh, I would love nothing more than to use the killing curse on you right now," she snarled, "but think I'll just settle for taking your wand and leaving you here to die. Slowly. Suffering"

She picked up his blood-soaked wand, taking one final look at his gasping form before apparating out of there.

When she had finally returned to Hogwarts to tell Sebastian the news, he was gone.

She refused to speak about it with anyone, resulting in several people assuming she had been the cause of his imprisonment or, at the very least, involved.

Shortly after this, she was forced to confront Ranrok in an attempt to save the school. She succeeded but also lost Fig in the ensuing chaos.

Her efforts earned her the title,

"HERO OF HOGWARTS."

She loathed the name. Hero? She couldn't even save the love of her life from a fate worse than death. She was no hero.

She had found out she was pregnant shortly after that; Ominis and Anne gave her their full support and vowed to keep her and the baby safe.

Regardless of everything that had happened, this was a piece of Sebastian. A piece of the boy that they had tried so desperately to save from himself.

They had failed him, but they wouldn't make the same mistake with his child.

MC had to live with the knowledge that if she hadn't tortured Rookwood nearly to death that night, she might have made it back in time. She could have saved him. Instead, she let her bloodlust take over. She had allowed the darkness to win, and it cost her the most important thing in her life.

Not a day goes by that she doesn't think about him sitting in that cold cell, alone in the dark, dementors sucking out his very essence.

Then suddenly, she can't breathe, and Ominis is kneeling next to her on the floor, trying to help her regulate her breathing and rubbing small circles on her back.

This was almost a daily occurrence.

Ever since Sebastian had been sentenced, she would get regular flashes of their last time together in the catacomb. She would see his face clear as day, the pain and utter defeat etched into his features as if she were standing next to him. She would see Solomon's dead body and Anne's flames destroying the Inferi.

She could feel the flames on her face, and she swore if she stretched her hand out far enough, she could reach him. Pull him out of this painful memory and into her life, but every time she tried, the air was sucked from her body all at once, and she was on the floor, gasping for breath.

This was the main reason Ominis and Anne had invited MC to live with them after they had gotten married. The other reason was that Anne wanted to be there for the birth of her niece. It was no surprise how attached she felt to this baby; it was essentially the only family she had left.

Anne's deep devotion to the baby led to MC picking the perfect name.

Anne Sallow.

She absolutely cried over that for a few hours.

They all knew Anne's time was short, having never found a cure, but that didn't stop Ominis from insisting on making her his wife. He was determined to give the woman he loved a happy life while he had the chance.

If anyone deserved happiness, it was Anne, and when MC gave birth, they made the perfect little family.

Little Anne was about five years old by the time her aunt finally succumbed to Rookwoods curse. It took a significant toll on the family, with MC falling into an even deeper depression than before. She could barely get up or do any basic housework. She couldn't even get her daughter dressed in the morning or feed her breakfast. She felt like a failure, like she was the worst mother in the world.

That's when Ominis stepped up to take on most of the responsibilities, all the while assuring her this wasn't something she could control, and both he and little Anne knew she was doing her best.

By the ten year mark, she had finally felt more stable, like they had figured out their little routine.

Despite that, the images of Sebastian never ceased to plague her mind. She didn't think she would ever truly be happy.

The sound of a question directed her way pulled MC out of her thoughts.

"Hm?"

"I said, now that you've finished braiding my hair, is it okay if I go outside and play for a little while?"

She looked up and saw Anne's braids freshly done. She hadn't even realized she'd finished. She must have been caught up thinking for a while because Ominis was now asleep on the couch opposite her.

"Yes, of course, sweetheart. Just be safe."

Anne jumped up excitedly and threw on her coat.

"Of course, Mommy! I always am," She said, giving her that little sideways smirk she inherited from her father.

MC rolled her eyes and smiled.

"Yeah, yeah"

Anne rushed out the door with a little giggle.

MC smiled fondly and glanced out the window after her, and that's when she noticed something.

It was Sebastian.

Sebastian Sallow was at her front door talking to her daughter. His daughter. Was she dreaming? Was this a cruel trick? Had she finally lost it? It couldn't be him. Sebastian was in Azkaban. He was gone. But- but he wasn't gone. He was here. He was here after all these years.

Taking a good look at his face, she finally felt she could breathe for the first time in ten years. Her mind was clear. She closed her eyes and felt herself race towards the door, ready to wrap herself in his arms and kiss him breathless.

But when she opened her eyes, she found herself in the same spot, terrified to move. It was as if someone had cast petrificus totalus on her, as her body refused to obey her brain.

Soon after, she saw him turn to leave, bidding goodbye to Anne.

She mentally screamed at herself to move, to run after him, and never let him go. Instead, she just watched him walk away, her heart breaking all over again.

Tears freely flowed down her face as she sobbed into her hand, trying her best to be quiet so Ominis didn't hear her. She didn't want to explain what she had just seen, and she had no idea how Ominis would react. She herself wasn't even sure what to think or how to react.

All she knew was that for the few minutes she had just observed him, she felt things she didn't know she could feel anymore. Seeing him felt like home.

When Anne came home telling her about a strange but friendly 'family friend' she had met, she urged her daughter to keep it a secret from Ominis.

"At least for now. You trust me, right?"

It didn't take much convincing; little Anne was more clever than most people realized, just like her father.

This continued on for the next two weeks. Sebastian would show up, hang around, talk to Anne, and leave. Never once attempting to knock on the door and talk to her.

This made her heart break a little more every time, but when he would return the next day, her heart would be healed again. It was like a vicious cycle of hope and despair.

She had figured by the first week that he would never actually walk up those steps and back into her life.

If Sebastian were as clever as she thought he was, he'd have figured out Anne was his by now and supposed that's why he kept coming back. She felt comfort in her heart at the thought of him wanting to be there for his daughter, even if he didn't want her anymore.

So she just observed them together, day after day, while keeping Ominis in the dark about it. She knew it was wrong; Ominis had been there for her throughout everything. He was her best friend. He was Sebastian's best friend, and he deserved to know, but she had no idea how to tell him.

She was also enjoying being able to observe these little father-daughter moments and just take them all in; seeing Sebastian get to be the father he always should have been made her happier than she had ever felt in her entire life.

She had just arrived home from one of her usual trips to the market. Unfortunately, they were all out of Dirigible Plums, Ominis' favourite, so she'd had to settle for real plums. She knew he would be whining about that for a few hours, but unless he wanted her to grow them herself, he was out of luck.

Ominis didn't complain much, but he was a little particular about the food he chose to consume.

"Okay, so I'm back! Ominis, they didn't have the fruit you like, so I just got-"

She stopped dead in her tracks, her heart beating out of her chest at the sight before her.

Sebastian Sallow was inside her house. He was crying while Ominis looked on regretfully, and Anne held his hand, gently comforting him.

She felt the tears spill over at the sight, and her throat tightened, squeezing so hard she wanted to gasp for air.

They all looked in her direction when they heard her words, and she felt Sebastian's eyes lock onto hers.

She felt so overtaken with emotions that all she managed to gasp out was a meek, breathless "Sebastian..."

Finally, he was home; he had come home to her.

They had a lot of lost time to make up for, and she was going to make sure to savor every moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alrighty, you already know the drill. Tagging some lovelies 💕 thank you so much for continuing to support this series. If it weren't for you guys, I never would've made a part 2.

@bunnybabyfanpage

@irishgal2022

@krystal-kokoro

@hufflepuff-16

@snickette

@fullmoonwolfer1

@sonicranger1

@lilac-crown

@findingtruenorth23

@froggyinaspen

@friendly-neighborhood-boricua

[tchai-castor]

So about my upcoming webcomic Athena's Champions

As some of you might know I'm working on a webcomic about Odyssues and Diomedes. It will mainly focus on the Trojan war, I'm going to try to reconstruct the Trojan War cycle with the bits and pieces that are available, the parts in between I'll just make up myself and hope it still feels somewhat accurate.

It's not going very fast so for the people that are interested, please be patient. The reason why it's not going very fast is because I keep changing the chapters, because I want it to be something I'll be proud of. Especially the first chapter has been rewritten at least 15 times. On top of that I'm not a big fan of the webcomic format, especially the white spaces really annoy me, so I wanted to make some special pannels with decoration around it, and I also want it to be decently colored. So there's a lot of work that goes into making this, so it will take some time. The problem I had with rewriting (and redrawing) the first chapter over and over again have been passed down to the next chapters. I had rough sketches for the next two chapters completely drawn out with text, but I decided that I don't like them anymore and I'm working on new ones.

With this post I wanted to tell you what you could expect from this webcomic. Once I have finished the 6 first chapters, I'll put them online (don't know where yet, if anyone has recommendations feel free to share) and then it will probably take a while to make the other chapters. The first 6 chapters will be:

Chapter 1: Embassy to Troy

Chapter 2: Gathering allies: Crete

Chapter 3: Gathering allies: Skyros (might be split into two chapters)

Chapter 4: Egypt

Chapter 5: Council in Argos

Chapter 6: Home (might also besplit into 2 chapters, or even more, this is supposed to show the home context of the heroes and their families, I want to pay extra attention to this, since the webcomic focuses mainly on the war endeavors of the men, their families will get less attention, so I think this is important)

The scripts of these chapters have somewhat been written down (I don't like to work with tight scripts, they stress me out). After this there will be the first council at Aulis, the failed mission to Mysia and then again a home depiction. After that the real war starts.

It's my intention to also make a sequel encluding what happens in the Odyssey, the travels of Diomedes and the Aeneid, but judging from the current pace I have in making these, I assume this will be as fast as Odysseus trying to reach home. I hope not, but I've been working on this for 3 years now and I kept changing everything, so it's actually not that unrealistic. Let's hope it's faster though.

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

Hiii, do you have any tips for drafting out embroidery patterns? I've got one in mind, but drafting it out and color picking is so nerve-wracking!!

[Hi!!!! this got kinda really long so I'm gonna crop it under a read more. And I honestly don't have any real training/instruction in fiber arts so this is just how I do things, and probably others do them very differently!]

Haha so my fandom embroideries are VERY different from my non-fandom personal pieces in this respect. For non-fandom things i just kind of throw myself in like WAHOO FREEFORM LETS GO and go for a kind of messy colorful approach that ends up as things like this:

Versus my fandom stuff is way more structured and designed to fill space, be very precise, etc. So for those I do go in with a digital mock up of the design I make in photoshop, that I then color in, and then as my last step translate to thread colors.

For my Dragon Age series. this has been because I'm specifically trying to mimic the stained-glass style of art you see in parts of the game like the dialogue wheels, some icons, windows, etc. The icons in particular were really easy to copy into embroidery because they already come in handy circles:

This is mostly because I have desperately wanted to pick up stained glass work as a hobby for like 6 years now. As in once every 3-6 months I put everything I'd need to start doing it into an online shopping cart and look at the price total and then sadly close the window because I just don't actually have any space I could do it in (I live in a 2bed apartment so i have no garage or yard or anywhere it wouldn't make everything else a mess or be a hazard). The day after one of those events I impulse bought and completed a floral embroidery kit from the craft store and kinda was like... ok, well, I did this once how hard can it be to use this medium to mimic the hobby I wish I could be doing? Plus, it's only like 60 cents per color! I can afford that! So I took the first design I wanted to do, the romance icon, and basically redrew it sloppily in photoshop, then freehand-copied the design onto fabric and stitched it the next day:

I learned a lot from this piece and changed my approach a little. Here you can see I tried shading in the parallel direction to my thread, which looked messy and added texture, so now I shade horizontally to my thread direction instead.

But it gave me a basic approach for turning the Tarot cards or DA Keep tiles (or any other art!) into embroidery patterns, which I couldn't copy as directly into this really smooth stained-glass style. There's a basic process I follow when doing these conversions that generally follows the same order, which I'll go through below.

STEP 1: SHAPES

The first thing I do is pick the shape of my display frame which is usually a circle, but could be an oval or rectangle too, since I hang the finished pieces on my wall to have nice way to show them off. I like to fill the whole space so knowing the size and shape of what I want the finished project to look like is a good goal for me. Since I am doing fandom pieces I want to be recognizable, I do stick pretty close to the "original" character design/art, but you can absolutely change as much as you want and freehand draw your own interpretation instead. If you're doing original art just substitute the below composition notes with "sketch out roughly what you want it to look like". I personally do my pattern drafting digitally as I find it easier, but you can do this part by hand too.

First, I keep the reference image I'm working off of open next to me while I work, and draw in the shape of my frame (here, a circle). If I'm adding in the little border to be fancy, I add a second inner circle. I keep these as their own top layer so I always know I'm working within the final "frame" and don't spend time designing any section that will fall outside it. Then I will take copies of the reference image and knock the layers down to 25-50% opacity, and start moving them around underneath the 'frame' layer until I like the way their positioning looks as a composition. Sometimes elements of a card I want to include don't all fit in, so I'll chop the section out and add an additional layer to throw in (like the background circle things in the Hermit design below). Or I'll just freehand things like adding much bigger diamonds behind Solas in my Hierophant design because I did NOT want to do 1000 tiny ones. Then once I'm satisfied with the general composition, I'll use the plain ol circular brush tool to trace out the major shapes of each element. I try to keep in mind that I can't go too small, and curvy lines are more difficult to fill in than straight ones. I usually do a rough messy version first, make it mostly transparent, and then a cleaner and more precise one over that.

(you can see parts of the rough one on the left and the fully 'cleaned up' on the right for the Hierophant design)

Now: depending on what you are doing next with the pattern, this might be where you stop and start coloring. If you are planning to freehand your design or just trace it onto fabric (or even print it onto fabric here), there's no need to do more than this kind of lineart! However, if you are working digitally and want to create a scalable vector so you can print it at different sizes, you can use the pen tool in photoshop to trace your design and make a "work path" of the lineart. However, another note: THIS PART IS VERY FRUSTRATING AND TEDIOUS BECAUSE THE PEN TOOL WAS CREATED BY THE DEVIL TO TORMENT US. It is so so so easy to accidentally delete a line or even the whole path and not notice later on. Ask me how I know 😭 Anyway I'm not going to include a pen tool tutorial because I don't even know how to use it well and have to google or watch videos every other time I try to use it. But if you can muddle through it gets you some really clean lines that eventually look like this:

With the work path selected, you can select the brush tool/size/color and use the "stroke path" option to create lineart of the vector. Then you can save this as a transparent png file for use at different sizes and for printing and it looks so nice and clean! one of the big benefits to this is that you get really fine lines that are easier to be precise with stitching on. This is extra perfect if you are printing the design directly onto your fabric (which you can do with an at-home inkjet printer for designs under 8inches wide, as long as you stick a piece of stabilizer on the back of your fabric and cut it down to printer sheet size--this is what I do and can make another post about that process if people want haha), or if you are printing onto transfer paper like you can buy at craft stores.

This is where I end the lineart for my designs. After I have this, I move on to the next phase, which is...

STEP 2: COLOR

For interpreting my designs into thread, I start by thinking of it as flat colors first. You can't "shade" as easily with threads as you can with things like paint or brushes in digital art (though you can A Little, which I will get into), so to start color planning I pick the "main" color each section will be in the piece.

For the existing icons this was simple--I kept the same sections as the original designs, so for each I just color picked or eyeballed the color in photoshop and colored it in (but you could do this on paper with pencils, markers, whatever as well--they don't need to match your threads exactly and usually won't, it's just to give you an easy reference to follow as you go). For the tarot cards which were more complicated in coloration, I just did my best and went with what looked good next to each other, even if it was a little off the original art. It will be off more later anyway when you have to pick threads so don't stress it too much honestly. I will often make layers with different color options and turn them on/off for direct comparison to try to determine what I think looks best as well, like below where I was debating between more blue/desaturated for the background or brighter colors.

I do wanna note I have regrets about the color selection, shapes, or shading in EVERY SINGLE ONE of my finished pieces. But no one else ever comments or probably even notices! One aspect of this hobby is just learning to be satisfied with what you've made and using what you learned to get closer to your preferences next time. I'm only going back and redoing some of my designs' colors because I want to make it easier for others to choose on the patterns I sell, more than I care for just for myself. Also since I'm doing this lineart/stained glass looking approach where I go over the distinct shapes with black thread at the end, it means I get these clear delineations between sections you might not necessarily have in your own pieces, and that's ok.

Ok right. Now while shading/coloring in detail is hard with thread, you CAN make whats essentially dithered gradients. "Dithering" in the concept of art means using 2 (or more) colors to give the impression of a third color, or to gently scale between the existing binary rather than a hard line. Think of it like blocky pixel art or gameboy game images. If you're doing needlepainting, you use really small stitches close together to get this effect, which translates to "smaller pixes"--if you look at the jellyfish in my first photos that's a very messy casual version of that. If you want a better example, I recommend looking at @ammocharis 's pieces like these in her pinned post, which are truly amazing! I simply do not have the patience myself 😂 For my stained glass style, I work only in very long straight stitches, so I can only shade in one direction and have to be a little more precise with it.

So for shading, I think about in each section which direction my threads might go. Then perpendicular to that direction I pick which side will be the light one and which the darker one. Sometimes I color this in on my pattern mockup, but sometimes I don't! Or I'll only do it for certain sections to make sure I don't forget. Like for my Tower design I only colored it as flats, and waited until I selected threads to decide how the shading would go. I am currently working on a smaller, simplified version of my Hierophant design and I did add shading digitally for that one just for fun. But it's not as important as having the flat color version you can use to quick-reference how you want your design to go while you're stitching. You might also notice I don't actually color my gold--I just throw in a stock image of gold foil for that layer so I can't confuse it with any of my yellow thread sections.

Here's a close up where you can kind of see what I mean by the "dithered" effect between colors--some are more obvious (like the red on the far left or middle orange) and others pretty subtle (dark grey to dark red on the wolf face):

Now, while I use single layers of satin stitches for this, and just alternate thread colors increasing/decreasing as I go, you can accomplish the same thing with short overlapping stitches like with needlepainting, or with clusters of french knots, or whatever else. But in GENERAL you are going to be able to trick people into seeing gradients out of dithering best when you are using the same type of stitch for that whole area. So if I was using multiple stitch types like having french knots, daisy chains, ladder stitching or whatever else for some sections, I would keep those to contrasting areas/colors. A fantastic example of using different layered types of stitching to create more intricate color/texture in an embroidery would be these incredible tarot card depictions by @hattedhedgehog, which I like even better than my own embroideries. Here's his take on the Tower card as well for comparison to mine (I'm so in love with it!!!).

But anyway, at this phase, your design is actually still digital--the above is just to explain how it translates later in the process. The next step is...

STEP 3: THREAD SELECTION

I will admit here I am not great at this part. I am constantly second guessing my thread colors, and can spend over an entire hour in the thread aisle at the craft store agonizing over choices. Really, I think this is just one of those things that takes practice and you get better at it over time. What I have had the best luck with is actually printing out a reference photo of my design/the original artwork and taking it with me. If you already have threads you can do this part at home too, but DMC alone has over 500 colors and I definitely don't even own half that so I like to torture myself by looking at them all together on the thread racks. Plus Anchor and Artiste and whatever other brands there are out there. One approach is to just sit there and pick out what you want for each section and line it all up together on top of your printout. Or in the case of my Tower I laid a bunch of options out on top of my template in the hoop to guess how they'd look in the frame.

For me since I am also doing this dither shading thing, I also need 2-3 colors per sections depending on its size. Sometimes it's easy and the threads have a color just a little darker or lighter right next to them in the numerical lineup! Other times, there is no good match, or it looks too far away to shade nicely, or I want one to be a warmer or cooler tone than the other... which means a lot of standing and fretting to myself over it. I actually take a lot of photos at this stage because it can be easier to see how they will look in the end from a photo than in person to me? Idk why. Plus then after they get scrambled in my bag I remember wtf order I meant for them to go in later. But as long as you're not preventing other customers from shopping themselves, you can spend as long as you want staring at thread in the embroidery aisle and they won't kick you out unless it's closing time, so take your time.

Now, IN THEORY, you can sort of combine steps 2 and 3 by color-selecting from your threads and using that to color in the design. However I have tried this and it led to mixed success because the photoshop eyedropper brush simply isn't actually that exact (in my experience, it desaturates compared to what we actually see). And because then you have to have the threads on hand while you're coloring... which means you might buy ones you don't end up using if you don't like them. So I prefer to just use this as a refinement step where I pick threads based on the design colors, then will re-color the design a second time to match those threads more closely to be sure I like the effect.

I've even used this as a tool when I needed to adjust my color choices mid-project, by digitally coloring over over my WIP:

Or here's a design (but I haven't posted the finished piece yet bc it's a gift so shhh) I made with certain color tones initially, but after buying thread I re-did the color mockup to be more vibrant, because I liked those threads better in the store:

Once you have your thread, you can make yourself a little reference chart with the colors you intend noted on the sections you want them, like below:

(note: i didn't end up sticking to these colors because I ended up dying my own thread for several sections. And then forgot I made this entirely and picked new ones because I put the project down for a year between design and stitching. Sigh).

Or for my Solas pattern I did this in a really detailed way, which i am sorry but i have redacted because... i have it for sale now and don't wanna just give that away haha. But if you buy the pattern from my shop this is one of the files you'd get with it, for ease of reference. I do also include a text-only list of them as well.

Now I don't go to this much trouble for all my designs, just the ones I put up for sale (or plan to). You can also just make a text list of your color plans if you want. Though for fun I also have been using my scrap thread to make these little "color palette" keyrings for my finished pieces, so if I ever remake them or update their patterns I will know what the original colors were, plus I can compare what i used to other threads if I wanna change part of the design up. This step is absolutely not necessary and I'm just doing it because I'm selling the patterns now, but they are kinda fun to look at.

And don't forget.. if you start a section in a certain color and decide you don't like it, you can just cut the threads and pull them out! I did that with my original hierophant piece actually. I had an entirely different color for one row of diamonds i thought just clashed way too much with the others, so I used photoshop to paint over it with some alternate options until I found one I liked better. Then I cut away all the old threads and put in the new color. It can be a little harder to fill a piece the second time since the fabric will have stretched out a little, but as long as you're using a good stabilizer it usually doesn't move too much.

You can also just make test swatches on spare fabric to test before you add them to your real piece. I wish I'd done this for some color transitions that didn't end up looking the way I wanted, but I am simply too lazy most of the time. My exception is usually for metallic, satin, or sparkly threads, because I want to know how they feel while embroidering. But if you're really worried about a certain color or shade it's a good thing to remember you can just do.

SO yep, that's my general process for drafting patterns. I start with the shapes/design, then do my flat color version, then I pick my threads. Makes it sound easy and short when phrased like that :) But I can honestly spend 8-10 hours just on making the lineart and coloring it in. If I was better at art, probably this would be less, but I'm working with what I've got (not much) 😂 I think all aspects of this are also something that gets easier over time, but it will probably never look as bad as you worry when you start out. I think all my pieces look awkward and rough right up until I do the finishing steps and move them to the display frame sometimes.

I hope this was helpful and answered your questions!! Feel free to post/share your WIPs to ask for feedback or advice ever too :) I've only ever had people in the embroidery community on tumblr be encouraging and helpful to me, and I'm happy to answer any questions myself when I can or if parts of this were confusing

[uncleasad]

top ten favorite hosie fics of all time, go

What a fun Ask! 🙏 Also, are you trying to kill me?! 😂

A few weeks ago, TheDarkestHour13 introduced the concept of Hope and Rafael keeping a list of “Landon’s Top 10 deaths” in Such Is Our Fate. I commented that that particular chapter (for reasons other than the deaths list) was a Top 10 chapter of the fic, though I also noted I didn’t have an actual list of my Top 10 chapters—there were approximately 120 chapters at that point. I also thought, in a related manner, that I didn’t have a “Top 10” list of Hosie fics…and perhaps that should have been my cue to start thinking about such a thing 😂

As of late June 2024 CE, there are nearly 2600 fics in the AO3 Hosie tag and I’ve been reading since the latter part of 2019…so I’ve probably read ½ to ⅔ of them…

I came up with 7 fics right away, but as I started to make links and such, I realized that 5 of those were incomplete (ongoing, but mostly either rarely updated or, practically speaking, abandoned); I don’t know what it says about me that my “top ten favorite hosie fics of all time” is full of fics that may never be finished.

But in terms of recommendations for reading, I know lots of folks will not want to start reading a work that hasn’t been updated in years and has a high likelihood of never being finished, no matter how amazing it is (or how much someone else liked it). And even for ones that are currently ongoing, it’s possible (though unlikely) that the author could do something crazy to make me hate the fic later on. So I thought I’d spin off all those works that were incomplete into a separate list and come up with 10 favorite finished fics…I could mamage that, right? As I started trying to do that…nope, that’s not done, either; that’s been abandoned 😳 oh, what about that fic? wow, how did I forget that one?! (Like I said, are you trying to kill me?! 😂)

So…to save my life (and to stop spending hours upon hours on this), the end result is about 30 fics all-told, completed and incomplete. (I further subdivided the incomplete fics into those that are updated at least once every few months and those that…aren’t 😢) They’re ordered roughly by time, with the earlier/older fics towards the tops of the lists and the more recent ones (mostly) towards the ends of the lists. Two of the fics on the “Completed” list had promised an epilogue that has never appeared, but you can read the entire story arc, so I think it’s fair to label them as complete.

So without further ado…

Completed:

it's a date (the only problem is it's fake) by avengerskye / @avengerskye

Coffee on Monday, Flowers on Friday by Redezzy

The Missing Piece by intribridsname 

slept next to her but I dreamt of you all summer long by hackingxbiochemist

what you got (cause I want it all) by ToriWritesStories / @toriwritesstories

summer lovin' had me a blast (wait, no, that's just the leaf-blower) by AdeleDazeem

Our Last Life by taengoo1 / @taengooxlove

I'll Never Give Up Hope by O_M_Jee

HM+JS by tellingtouch

Invisible String by luthorbae

Then why's it feel so good? by callipoicepole (Killing Eve AU)

This Is Your Home by Shadowmama55 / @shadowhuntermama

Shivers (A Lifetime of crimes, but the worst was loving you.) by ch8rlie

The Stages of Grief by endgamesonly

'tis the damn season. by wandererghost (complete, though promised epilogue still outstanding)

Lizzie Saltzman, Matchmaker by TheNutcase (complete, though promised epilogue still outstanding)

In-Progress – still updating regularly or at least every few months:

Such Is Our Fate by TheDarkestHour13 / @persevereforahappyending (updated every Friday)

The Power Field by Joho_meh

4 Years, 6 Months, 8 Days by Limon_Skittles

To Know My Heart The Best (You’d Have To Cut It Out My Chest) by mambaregz

Incomplete – rarely updated, on hiatus, or orphaned:

Dive bar on the east side by Bluejay720 (7 chapters to go)

summer rush by sabrinasfadingmoon / @sabrinasfadingmoon (incomplete)

im not gonna let you go so easily by allweseeislight (1 chapter to go 🤞)

'tis the damn season by blckmaqic, LizMikaelson (1 chapter to go 🤞)

Redemption by MysticSlurp (Red Dead Redemption AU, incomplete)

Sad Bedroom Eyes by EvilPenguinRika / @evilpenguinrika (on hiatus)

Hell Hath No Fury by ElegiesEulogizeMe (Ringer AU, 6 chapters to go)

the stages of waking by dandelionlighters / @dandelionlighters (incomplete)

let’s watch it all burn down together by iris_on_the_moon (zombie apocalypse; orphaned)

A number of the authors are no longer active in writing Hosie fics (not surprising in 2024, considering), but many of them (including the authors of the incomplete works I like) have substantial catalogs, so if you read and enjoy one of these, be sure check that author’s list of other works (and of course leave kudos and comments! 🙏)

—

If anyone would like to see other fics I’ve enjoyed, there’s the fic recommendation tag here on my tumblr that captures a few from the last couple of years, and I also have a few AO3 collections of specific themes/subjects:

Hosie Zombie Apocalypse (HosieZombieApocalypse)

Hosie Summertime Vibes (SummeryHosie)

Hosie Season 2 “What If?” (Hosie_Season_2_What_If)

(I really need to start one for post-S4 fics, because there are a lot of great ones and I’m starting to forget them already.)

Sorry I couldn’t get it down to 10, @tribridsireline 😂 But I hope everyone reading finds something new and exciting to read!

[kasagia]

love love loveeeee your feyd works, you're such an amazing writer! Your writing really makes my heart flutter man 😞 like lil butterflies running around in there!! I hope you are well appreciated for your work! Im curious tho, how many chapters will right hand man be and after it do you have any plans on making oneshots?

My two dear anonymous, thank you soooooooooo much! 😊😊🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🖤🖤🖤🩵🩵🩵 1. Oh my god, thank you so much anonymous! This is a HUGE compliment for me!! 🖤🖤🖤🖤🩵🩵🩵🖤🖤🖤🖤🩵🩵🩵🖤🖤🖤🖤🩵🩵🖤🖤🖤🖤🩵🖤🖤🖤🖤🩵🩵🩵 I'm very happy that you liked my writing so much. I feel very appreciated with every comment, reblog, like, and anonymous message from you all. It's really exciting and nice to receive them for my writing, and it motivates me/inspires me to write more and more. So again, THANK YOU (ALL) SOOOO MUCH!

The Right Hand will be 6-7 chapters long, so only 2 or 3 to go. It depends on how I finish chapter V... and according to my plans, there still has to be a little bit going on in this story, and I think this chapter is already long (you don't want to read 20k chapter, right? xD), so we'll probably get to VII.

BUT! I'm definitely not done with Feyd for sure. And since you asked, dear anonymous, I will let you in on a secret and show you what will come next after I'll finish 'Right Hand'...

Any speculations/guesses/ideas? 🤭😈 (If you really want, I think I may publish a sneak peek/teaser for you. Like 1,5k WC prologue to the concept of the story or sth like that. I'll see what your reaction/interest will be to this one 😊... well, if anyone has made it this far down this post xDDDD)

2. Thank you very much, I'm glad you liked it! 😊🖤🩵🖤🖤🩵🖤🖤🩵🖤🖤🩵🖤🖤🩵🖤🖤🩵🖤🖤🩵🖤

A little bit will happen in Part V... you'd better prepare yourselves 😈😈😈 In the meantime, catch the piece of it:

You were in Giedi Prime. You walked through your familiar paths, hiding from the Harkonnens' eyes. It was rare to meet anyone in these corridors. Most of them were dead ends with secret passages that were unknown to most of the inhabitants of Giedi Prime. That's why you were terribly surprised when suddenly someone pulled you by your cloak. You freeze, startled, and turn slowly to face the small child. The kid looks like Harkonnen's child, but not quite. His skin is creamier than white, and white hair grows on his head in unruly curls. But what you recognised perfectly were the blue, bright irises that only one person could boast on Gieidi Prime. "Mommy!" A boy of about 5 years old jumps at you, hugging your legs while you look at him in shock. "Dad said he would take us on a trip! To Lankiveil! We will swim in a real lake! Can you imagine that?!" He asks excitedly and holds out his hands to you. You automatically take him into your arms and rest him on your hip, trying to figure out what the hell is happening. Someone's quick footsteps echo in the corridor. You look up from the child and see one of the harpies approaching you. She breathed a sigh of relief, bowing to you when she saw the boy in your arms. "You can't run away like that, my lord Na-Baron. The Baron told us to look after you." (...)

Hope you will like it! (Part V probably on Monday…)

[sdr2lovemail]

Rating KNY characters on how well they can play rhythm games!: Upper Moon Edition!

This came to me in a vision and I must share!

Kokushibo 0/10

Kokushibo can kill. He can slay hordes of demon hunters without breaking a sweat. Put a tablet in front of him? He's done.

In battle, he's quick on his feet and a fast thinker. But something about the bright shapes flying across the screen got him pressing them three years after they pass, even with six eyes.

It's a challenge to get him to even play. Saying that human games are trivial to him and does not wish to partake. Will probably get a few seconds into the song before quitting.

"This is pointless. Goodbye."

Douma 9/10

Scarily good. After the initial "shock" of seeing a tablet, Douma is clearing songs with ease.

He's got a good sense of rhythm and can keep up with the notes. He prefers games with female casts as well. They're just nicer to look at in his words.

Scratches the screen of your tablet with those nails of his. Be cautious when using it after he's done with it, you might cut yourself on the glass.

That is if you can get it out of Douma's grasp. This screen is so interesting, you can't just take it away!

"Hey, I'm still using it... Come on, just one more song!"

Akaza 2/10

He can keep up well enough, but his sense of rhythm outside of fighting is awful. He's too focused on trying to hit the buttons that he can't keep up with the beat.

Akaza will get frustrated very quickly. He'll keep trying as he keeps getting mad. Saying he'll beat the next one. He's not stopping until he beats a song, or until your tablet is in pieces. Whichever comes first.

You can offer to put the game on an easier setting, but he wants to play on an even harder setting, just to prove he's better than a scrap of metal. It's a never ending cycle of frustration.

"No! I don't need it to be easier! You know what? Make it harder. I'll show you!"

Hantengu 0/10

(Might include clones in a different post)

Bad all around. No sense of rhythm and can't keep up with the notes. Hantengu gets angry to the point of tears, which makes it even harder for him to play. Didn't even want to try at first.

While he's quick in battle, he's still an old man from the Taisho Era. The bright, flashing graphics of the game overwhelm him and he just can't focus on one thing.

Another one to scratch the screen with his nails. He'd press down hard too, leaving pretty deep scratches.

Gets too frustrated and rage quits, not even finishing a song.

"I-I don't want to do this anymore!"

Nakime 9/10

Amazing sense of rhythm and can keep up with the notes like a seasoned player. Not a fan of most of the song choices. She's a fan of traditional sounds. Modern day pop, electronic, etc. is not for her.

It's a challenge to get her to play as well. She doesn't acknowledge your asking for a while. You really gotta pester her if you want her to play.

Nakime is skilled with her biwa even with her nails. She gets a bonus point for not scratching the life out of your tablet.

"Fine...I will try your music game."

Gyokko 5/10

Thinks he's above anything you'd have to offer, even if it was from modern times. You'll have to really butter him up for him to even think about playing.

With multiple hands comes quick reflexes and the abilities to do multiple things at once. He's able to keep up with the rhythm and notes with ease.

Gyokko is docked points because he'd just be bitching the whole time. Saying how ugly the art and graphics are or how he finds the music/vocals grating against his ears. Overall allergic to fun.

"How childish! Makes sense that someone like you could be so distracted with flashing colors."

Daki 3/10

She would actually be good at the game if she didn't throw a tantrum every time she lost her combo. She has a good eye and sense of rhythm, but gets too in her head about playing. Takes forever to pick a song.

Daki would throw your tablet across the room or slam it into the floor in a fit of rage, don't expect to get it back in one piece.

There's two reactions depending on how well you play. If she doesn't like you all that much, she blow up on you in an act of jealousy. If she does like you, she begging you to tell her how to get better.

"Wah! This is stupid! I clicked that note! I hate this!"

Gyutaro 0/10

Gyutaro doesn't even want to entertain the thought of him playing such a stupid game. He says that he has much better things to do. In the small chance you do get him to play, he sucks.

His lack of skills brings an onslaught of self deprecation. Groaning about he can't even play some dumb human game.

Doesn't scratch the screen too bad but he does scratch himself, leaving bloody stains all over the tablet.

"Nehhh, I can't even keep up. How pitiful..."

Kaigaku 2/10

Proudly boasts about how well he could play and how he could beat any score you could manage to get. Is promptly humbled the second the song starts.

Kaigaku would want to play on the hardest difficulty, but gets mad when he misses a note.

His stubbornness doesn't allow him to quit. He's going to keep playing until he can get a full combo. Don't tell him that all perfect combos exist, you'll never see him again.

"Stop trying to take it from me! I'm not done yet!"

[somnolenthour]

𝑨𝒖𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒔

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x f!Reader

CONTAINS: Fingering, nudity, unconsentual touching, light human trafficking(?), rich people nonsense, unconventional marriage

A/N: I had this concept in my head for like ever so... If people like it, I'll continue it.

You hissed out of habit, the sharp astringent scent of alcohol burning your nose as the nurse prepped your arm. It was obvious what was going to happen next and frankly, you didn’t want to see as the needle pierced your skin like it did several times before. The phlebotomist was skilled, probably doing this a million times before and while the prospect of getting your blood drawn again never got old and the fear of needles never exactly went away. The bundle of nerves that twisted and tied in on itself like an ouroboros-esque manifestation of anxiety trumped the other fears you usually had.

“You have beautiful veins.” The voice of the doctor was distant, your mind wandering to another place while they pressed down on the small wound with a rolled up piece of gauze.

“Thanks..” You looked down at your feet, focusing a bit on the glitter left in the cherry red polish that went unnoticed the night before when tired eyes focused on the ceiling instead of your roommate that painted them when she ran out of her own nails to paint. Courtney was especially nervous that their time in this school was ending.

“So why did you join?” Courtney lazily slumped on your bed like a cat, her stuffed animals probably more judgemental than she ever could be. The magazine on your lap growing clammy as you mulled over the reason you decided to ‘throw your life away’ by joining your mother’s footsteps by joining St.Monica’s academy for prestigious young women. It was practically a finishing school with a focus more on the aspect of marriage than education. It was invite only with only girls coming from money (like Courtney) or coming from good stock (much like yourself).

“I sort of wasn’t going to join.” Your fingers trailed along the magazine, the scent of the perfume sample wafting in the air in thought.

Courtney raised a brow, wanting you to elaborate.

“My folks divorced y’know? I know that’s like a huge no-no around here.” You blinked in thought. “But I guess they put that whole pride in making successful wives aside.”

“So…” Courtney blinked a bit. “Why join then?”

“Bored.” You shrugged. “Apparently I have a unique gene pool, though. Learned that yesterday.” You rubbed your arm.

“That’s cool.” The blonde rolled onto her back and closed her eyes, too lazy to crawl back to her own bed.

“Why did you join?”

“Oh right.. yeah.. Uhm…” She closed her eyes tight, biting her lip as she forced the answer to the surface like it was the hardest thing for her to do right now. “My folks thought it was easier than just sifting through all these eligible bachelors or whatever. I wasn’t really listening..” She put her hand on her head.

“So in a few years they’re just going to auction us off.” Sure the idea of marrying into wealth was nice but it was all up to chance.

“Did you ever want to marry for love?” Courtney opened her eyes, her tired expression looking for some type of reassurance but you couldn’t pin what type she really wanted. Instead you closed your magazine and laid back as well.

“I never really saw myself getting married in general. Plus love is so… complicated. All these guys want is a pretty face that will smile and suck their dick, turn a blind eye to whatever they’re doing behind closed doors because what business is it for us to know anyways?”

“I think I just want a baby..” Courtney sighed.

“Here’s your number.” The assisting nurse pressed a temporary tattoo to your neck, the cool sensation making you shiver beneath the cardigan you wore to stave away the early winter chill that seemed to creep in through the cracks of the building that have stayed with minimal updates since the Victorian era. You hopped off of the examination table and joined your peers outside of the office. All of them in a similar state as they stared out at the shiny new cars that lined up outside. The men outside that they did see were all dressed in black with masks to match it.

“It looks like a funeral out there..” Courtney cut through to you, her soft voice hoarse from her crying last night.

“Because it is.” You shook your head and all those years of learning etiquette, studying high societal rules, cooking, child rearing, sexual education (with physical courses for learning positions..), and whatever was slipping your mind were all about to put you into play, and it felt like it all was about to be booted out of your head in a matter of moments. They all wore numbers, they’d all get sold off to the highest bidder, and they all would become whatever their husband they wanted to be. Maybe it was the regret settling in, or maybe it was the terror of the unknown, but you didn’t want that anymore.

“Who do you think will sell the highest?” Courtney joined you by the window sill, both of your eyes trailing to the crowd and the realization you’ve known almost all of these faces for years falls on you. The same uniform shirtdress style that everyone attempted to modify so it didn’t look downright geriatric, hair pulled up, accessories, layers, different colored tights, loafers of varying neutral colors. This was all they knew.

“Evelyn.”

“I think Kristie might have her beat.”

“What about Jean? She has a bright smile.” They both glanced over at Jean, who was busy laughing and pointing out the window without a care. Any smart man would choose her. She’d be easy to parade around. “Not me though, I’m going to be twenty dollars.”

“Twenty dollars?!” Courtney snorted, “If you’re twenty, then I’m worth a pack of razzles!”

“Courtney, have some self-respect!” She huffed, “You’re at least worth a pack of tropical razzles.” You both laughed now, leaning on each other.

“Keep in touch with me if you can, okay?” She sniffled. “I don’t know how, but if we meet up again..”

“You know I will.” The hug was crushing, you both sniffling. “Please don’t cry..”

“I should tell you the same thing!”

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Despite various warnings and being told about this constantly from established matrons to the point that it became an inside joke for after the first year, you absolutely weren’t ready for the pre-auction showing where you’d wander the room completely naked with these men (who might be your future husband in the next few hours) could touch you as they discussed amongst themselves.

Of course, you counted your blessings that you weren’t popular. You watched as others were bent and fingered, breast squeezed. Soft noises of pleasure and embarrassment joining a chorus of casual conversation and laughter. With no hiding spot around, you wandered until a hand snatched you mid-stride. “Looks like I found a stray.” A particularly smooth voice chuckled, pulling you toward his large frame. His face was hidden, but his brown hair was masterfully sculpted to the point where the fly-aways seemed like they were there with purpose. His hand tilted your neck to read your tattoo. “One-four-three.. Cute..”

You side-eyed him, his sense of humor falling flat.

“It means ‘I love you’ sweetheart.” Even with his eyes hidden, you could feel his eyes wander along your body. The heat blossoming beneath your skin seemed to travel as his gaze settled between your legs. He placed a hand on your stomach, feeling hot and feather-like as beautifully manicured fingers circled your clit slowly. “Are you a virgin?” You gasped and almost stepped away but the anonymous man held you in place, the immediate slickness made you want to shrivel up but the sensation was unlike any other.

“Yes..” Sure you fooled around a little before. You were in your mid-twenties, but it was nothing more than some kisses and a bit of groping.

His finger moved away, leaving a trail of transparent slick connecting you both. “I’ll keep that in mind, Sweetheart.”

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Of course you were last.

Something karmic had to happen at some point in your four years, and whatever it cost, it equaled being dead last in an auction where you were certain that it was just perverted old men or something worse. You pushed back a displeased groan as a matron guided you to a stage with harsh studio lighting that made it hard to see out into the crowd of dark masks but you were certain there were several of them left. You felt like a deer in headlights as the distant mummer of conversation began to die down.

“Meet number #143!” The audioner called out, “No known health conditions, curious disposition, has a lineage for hyperovulation for the fellas that need heirs! Perfect companion for the businessman who loves travel, hymen still intact. The starting price is twenty-five thousand!”

The crowd exploded into shouts and waving signs, and your eyes darting around as a pit grew in your stomach. The price on your head ticking up and up, much like your heart rate.

786-

872!

900!

The crowd began to quiet down, and others were either unable or unwilling to touch the price. You stood in disbelief.

“Nine-hundred thousand dollars! Going once! Going Twice-”

“A million.” A sign raised, casual.

“A million!” The audioner screamed, the excitement overwhelming. “Going once! Going Twice! Sold to the gentleman before me!”

They wrote the number on the man’s sign on a sticker before slapping it over your tattoo, guiding you behind the stage to sign paperwork. “Congratulations Mrs.Bateman.” A matron smiled warmly as you signed your name on the marriage license.

“That was nervewreck-”

“A million?!” Evelyn was inconsolable from the other end of the room, her friends consoling her. “I barely broke seven hundred, and she’s a million?! Fucking bitch-”

You shrunk back, the pen being taken from you as you rushed to get dressed again.

Mrs. Bateman..

Why was that name familiar?