#i'm happy with improvising something to get the story going

[regulus-regent]

continued from [ x ] @stories-of-the-multiverse

There were very few things that unsettled Vegeta, but to have an unsolicited request to see Frieza, that struck a deep fear into the prince's heart. As far as he knew, they had done nothing wrong, but then again the tyrant wasn't above justifying his punishment if he so desired.

With his face dawning his usual stoic demeanor Vegeta entered the room first, on the outside, there was nothing but pure confidence in every step Vegeta took. It did well to hide his growing anxiety and paranoia as he acted his usual part whenever forced to be in the presence of his oppressor. Stopping just a few feet away and kneeling, he lowered his head, glaring down at the floor below him. An act that made made him furious and sick to his stomach.

"You requested our presence, Lord Frieza" Vegeta stated evenly, though every word was a struggle against the urge to infuse his tone with venom. He fought against the impulse to meet Frieza's gaze with open hostility, knowing the consequences of such defiance. The humiliation seared through his entire being, leaving an indelible mark on his soul. He recognized that he could never grow accustomed to such degradation, each instance serving as a painful reminder of his own subservience in the face of Frieza's tyranny.

The humiliation deepened as they were ignored, rushed to Frieza's presence only to be left waiting while the tyrant attended to seemingly more urgent affairs. Each passing second stretched out like an eternity for the prince, his frustration mounting with every moment. Unconsciously, he felt the beads of sweat forming on his brow, a physical manifestation of his rising discomfort. Finally, after what felt like an interminable wait, their attention was at last requested.

[fandom-flight]

The S-Classes that I Raised often gets grouped with Omniscent Reader's Viewpoint and Trash of the Count's Family, but there's something distinctly different about Han Yoojin as a protagonist. I think it's that his story really makes you feel how much of a fighter he is. I'm not saying that Kim Dokja and Kim Roksoo aren't fighters exactly, but they tend to come off as schemers first and foremost. Their approach to most problems (from my perspective as someone who's read all of ORV and like a third of TCF) involves leveraging secrets of the world that only they know in order to get the better of their adversaries and achieve their goals. They plan things out a long time in advance, and sure, things don't always go their way, but they feel like chess players when they're confronted with obstacles.

Meanwhile, Han Yoojin feels like a guerilla soldier. He definitely also schemes, but SCTIR makes a dedicated effort to showing that his current knowledge of the future and the world's secrets will only take him so far. He does think ahead and plans for the future whenever he can, but most of his problems are solved by improvising. One of his greatest strengths is that he thinks on his feet and doesn't let himself be fazed by surprises. This ends up making him feel more like someone who has always had to fight desperately for every last scrap of respect and survival he could get his hands on in a way that ORV and TCF don't go for as much (as far as I can tell for TCF as of now). Kim Dokja and Kim Roksoo's plans go "first, I'm going to go to the super secret location to get a weapon that will help me in six months, and then in five weeks, I'm going to recruit an obscure powerhouse to be my spy for the operation I'll do next year..." whereas Han Yoojin's plans are more like "first, I'll get into some shit, and then, I'll figure it out."

It's kind of hard to explain the vibe difference because these characters are all defined by their cleverness, but I guess the best way to put it would be that Kim Dokja and Kim Roksoo seem more... exasperated? with the way they've been wronged in the past, whereas Han Yoojin seems more angry and spiteful about it. The first two mostly seem tired of dealing with the way their lives were going before and just want to be happy, but Han Yoojin gives off the feeling that he doesn't think he can find happiness without biting and clawing his way to it

[myownwholewildworld]

wherever you go (a joel miller's ff) - chapter 5

chapter 4 | series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 6

pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader. (it's actually 2004 now)

summary: after what happened a couple of months ago, you are ready to move forward. joel? not so much. he might need a little... prodding.

warnings: 18+, mdni. internal and verbal discussions of feelings, trauma and past relationships. some jealousy (if you squint very hard). porn with plot or plot with porn (however you wanna look at it). again, absolutely filthy smut because i don’t know any better (sorry not sorry). fluff. voyeurism (you spy on joel). masturbation (f and m). oral (f and m receiving). finger sucking. unprotected piv. praise kink. sir kink. size kink. cum eating. a bit of cum play. multiple orgasms. overstimulation. squirting. dirty talk. you are very needy in this one and joel is very possessive over you. soft!dom!joel. aftercare. pet names (darlin’, sweetheart, baby, honey). i'm sure i'm forgetting something lol. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 36. no use of y/n.  joel’s and reader’s pov.

a/n: hiya! first i want to thank you all for the positive feedback this series has gotten! [: i started writing this for myself mainly, and decided to post it here thinking that if a couple of people liked it, it'd make my heart happy. also, i have taken some licenses with joel's past, as neither the game nor the tv show gives many details (you'll understand what i mean). anyways! after the last chapter, our two protagonists (you!) deserve a bit of calm, peace and quiet... right? 😈 as always, thank you all for engaging. i do appreciate any comments, reblogs and/or likes you may want to leave! even asks/requests/side stories if you want to! take care lovelies <3 x

w/c: ~6.3k (sorry?).

tags (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!): @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981

August came around relatively quickly. Tommy had proposed you got closer to civilisation, which meant long trekking trips while the sunlight was still up. Joel agreed reluctantly, as he still thought that was dangerous. You just went along with it, letting them decide ― you didn’t really care where you ended up as long as the Millers were by your side.

Well, one of them especially.

At daytime you barely had time to yourself. However, the story was completely different at nighttime. The second you closed your eyes, snippets of what had happened two months ago flooded your memory. For the first few weeks, the nightmares were unbearable. You would wake up in the dead of night, sweaty and shaking.

And every time you woke up, Joel was by your side. He would hug you while you both laid on improvised beds, no matter how uncomfortable it was. Neither of you would talk, you would just cry in silence while your panic attack subsided ― Joel holding you throughout the whole episode. He had truly been a rock you could hold onto in the middle of a sea storm.

It got to the point where Tommy had started to realise that something was up between you two. Neither you nor Joel denied nor confirmed anything, although Tommy never asked. He would just look away when his brother would attend to you if you fell behind or would offer to do the first night shifts so Joel could be by your side at bedtime.

You were somewhat sure that Joel really cared about you. The way he would look at you… it sent shivers down your spine. The intensity in his eyes was hypnotising ― sometimes you would find yourself lost in his brown orbs, unable to look away. You also really cared about him.

You didn’t want to put a label to your feelings, mainly because you were not sure how Joel would react. You had come to understand that the man was prone to evade any topic about his feelings in general ― physical, emotional or otherwise. You could still not get him to tell you whenever he felt off. Since the blow to his head a couple of months back, Joel had been suffering with horrible headaches, to the point where he had fainted in a couple of instances.

The man was such a closed book you found out about his deceased wife the same way you knew about Sarah ― through Tommy. You assumed he had one or at least a partner at some point in time before the outbreak. The younger brother didn’t give you many details though, not that you asked either ― some wounds were better left untouched.

You liked Tommy a lot. He was a godsend ― so very different to Joel, but so similar in many ways. He was talkative and filled in long silences with stories about how they would cause mayhem at home when they were kids. You didn’t know if they were true or not, but they were entertaining nonetheless. You were under the impression that Tommy was the one who got into sticky situations and Joel was the one who had to fix them.

“I’m gonna go to the lake for a bit”, Joel told you, derailing your train of thought.

“No worries, I’ll get the fire going. Poor Tommy is always the one setting up camp”, you replied with a slight smile.

“Yeah, poor me, relegated to such unsignificant tasks”, said Tommy with a chuckle.

You smiled back and then looked in Joel’s direction. He was frowning at both of you, but quickly controlled his face expression.

“I’ll be back soon”, Joel crouched to look through his backpack, grabbing a couple of towels.

Something inside of you twisted. But you pushed the thought to the back of your head. You had already volunteered to start the fire.

You really tried to focus on the bonfire. And after a few attempts, you finally got it going. Joel had not come back yet from the lake ― it had only been ten minutes, but you were slightly worried in case he had lost consciousness again while no one was around.

“I’ll go check on him”, you told Tommy.

He looked at you with a sarcastic smile.

“Sure thing”, he replied while he started to skin a rabbit.

You rolled your eyes before you left in the direction Joel had gone.

You walked the hundred metres that separated the camp and the lake. The brothers had ensured the area was completely devoid of human existence before they decided to settle there for the night. You were now in Mark Twain National Forest, near St. Louis. You had checked out Kansas City a week ago, but both Tommy and Joel had deemed it too unsafe. So Chicago was your final destination. None of you knew what you would encounter there, but it was worth a try. The wilderness had not proven to be any safer.

Before you got to the bank of the lake, you spotted Joel in the water. He had his back towards you, your eager eyes checking out his broad shoulders, the water level up to his hips. He ran his fingers through his hair, slicking it back.

You stopped walking, somewhat mesmerised, your head slightly tilted to one side with curiosity. In the last two months, you had discovered a new side to Joel you didn’t know he had.

You guessed that what happened that night also affected him in a different way it did you. After he almost decapitated that man, you saw guilt in his eyes when he looked at you ― you still sometimes caught a glimpse of it to this day. As you found out later, that culpability was because he felt responsible for what those men did to you ― he really thought he could have done more. And he did in a sense, because for the next couple of days he hunted down every man in that group until there was no one left to hurt you. Apparently, that was not enough in his eyes, although it was in yours. But as much as you tried to explain that to him, it just wouldn’t sink in. He was so stubborn it made you go crazy sometimes.

Although Joel had been there for you emotionally, he had not touched you for the last two months. You managed to steal a few kisses from him and that was it. He had been extremely cautious with you in that respect. You were relieved he was as you tried to come to terms with what had happened, but after a few weeks it started to feel… frustrating. You were not broken and despite what he thought, you still had needs.

He suddenly looked over his right shoulder, offering you his side profile ― to you, he was gorgeous. Feeling like a child caught causing mischief, you quickly hid behind a tree. Joel looked around, eyebrows touching in confusion, but then he shook his head as if he was imagining things and proceeded to cup his hands in the water to wet his face.

You couldn’t not watch. You instantly realised that was the first time you saw him naked. The last ―and, regrettably, the only― time you two had sex, he was fully clothed. There was something very intimate about seeing him washing up.

You were so transfixed on the picture in front of you it was like the world had disappeared around you. Joel rubbed his skin with a hand towel ― his strong arms, his chest, his back, his lower stomach… Your breath quickened a bit, your heart picking up a pace. Everything about him invited you in ― it wasn’t only his rugged appearance that appealed to you, but also his character.

You started to feel hot. Had the temperature suddenly gone up? It seemed like it. Joel put the hand towel on his left shoulder. When you saw his right hand disappear below the water in front of him, your mouth went dry wishing it was your hand. You wanted to help him clean his manhood so badly ― memories of his delightful cock rocking you into a trance short-circuited your brain.

Before you could stop yourself, you placed one hand on your belly, biting your bottom lip. You finally gave in to temptation, pushing past the edge of your panties. You dipped two fingers in your slit, doing circular movements around your clit. Your eyes, albeit halfway closed in pleasure, could not leave Joel as he kept on freshening up. You pushed down your fingers a bit more, sliding one of them in your needy hole.

You closed your eyes, a half-smile showing on the corner of your lips. That felt so good. If Joel was going to do nothing about it ― fine, you would. Still behind the tree, out of sight, you held on to the bark with your free hand, upping the rhythm of your wet fingers, your thumb rubbing that tight knot in your fold. Then you slightly opened your eyes again ― you wanted to stare at Joel while you came.

But he wasn’t there anymore. You frowned, confused, but you were too busy to worry about that right now. So you closed your eyes again to fully focus on the task at hand. You leaned your forehead against the tree, feeling your orgasm wash over you with intensity. You pressed your lips, suppressing a moan as to not alert Joel of your presence.

“Am I interrupting?”, his soft voice forced you to glance in his direction with starry eyes.

He was on your righthand side, just half a metre away from you. Entirely naked in all his glory, an erection creeping up on him. You were speechless, partially because you had been caught spying on him and partially because you were still feeling the last remnants of your climax, your inner walls crying for something to choke.

“I―I…”, you really tried to excuse yourself, but your voice faltered when your eyes checked him out from top to bottom.

His body was chiselled, his muscles somewhat defined, especially around his waist. He had a pronounced V line with a hairy, happy trail which you avidly followed with your eyes until you were gifted with the sight of his veiny cock. You unconsciously licked your bottom lip.

Your fingers were still dunked in your warm pussy. Joel grabbed your wrist and took your hand out of your underwear, raising it to eye level. Your digits were sticky, covered in your own cum. You should feel ashamed, but you definitely didn’t. Not with him. Joel looked into your eyes, and, without breaking visual contact, he brought your slick fingers closer to his face. With no hesitation, he opened his mouth and pushed them into it, licking them clean. You felt your cunt gushing, eyelids half closed. You could have easily come again for him, but he released your fingers far too quickly for your liking.

“You naughty girl”, he whispered as he pulled you from the wrist to get you closer to his chest. “You taste even better than what I imagined”.

“I didn’t think you were…”

“Aware of your presence? Always, darlin’”, he finished for you.

Your cheeks blushed when he freed your wrist and lifted your chin up. His thumb caressed your bottom lip, his mouth just an inch away from yours. You bowed to kiss him, but he backed up a little, denying you.

“Are you sure you wanna do this, sweetheart?”, he asked, you could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

You nodded vehemently.

“Yes, please, Joel, I really need to feel you, to have you fuck me senseless”, you emphasized, short-breathed.

He seemed to consider your words for longer than what was acceptable. You saw his eyes flying between yours and your lips.

“Please?”, you begged.

Your prayers might have been heard, because he leaned forward, brushing your mouth with his.

“Then go down on your knees, darlin’”, he whispered against your lips.

You silently gasped as your clit pulsed at his words. You were delighted to follow his command, and so you kneeled compliantly.

When your knees touched the grass, his cock was at eye level. You couldn’t help but marvel at the sight. His dick was as big as you remembered, the memory of it filling you up still haunted you. It was so erected now that the tip touched his belly button. Joel looked so strained you thought he had to be in pain. And you were more than willing to help him alleviate it.

You moved your hand forward, but before you could try to wrap your fingers around him, Joel stopped you.

“No, with your mouth”, was his order.

You intertwined your fingers on your lower back and inclined your heard towards him. You gazed up at him, his jawline very tense. You let your tongue out and shyly tapped his glans with the tip. Joel closed his eyes immediately and grumbled loudly as his cock twitched in front of you.

That was all you needed to spur you on. You widely opened your mouth to house his manhood and sealed your lips around the head, the tip of your tongue trying to push open the slit on his foreskin. You played with him for a bit while your jaw relaxed. Then you started to push him in further and further down your mouth, as far as you could take him. His glans pushed past your uvula, you could barely breathe, just as you had imagined a few months ago ― a dream come true. You bobbed your head back and forth, feeling him in your throat, your eyes watering. But you were still not close to have his dick entirely in your mouth ― he was so damn big.

Joel growled in ecstasy as he looked down to you. The sight of you on your knees with your mouth stuffed, bright beautiful eyes, your tongue maliciously inciting him… He just couldn’t believe how giving you were.

“Look at you with your mouth so full”, he said placing one of his hands under your chin. He could feel his own cock expanding your throat. “You look so damn pretty, baby”.

You leaned back a bit, releasing most of his erection except for the tip. With the help of one hand you started pumping his shaft, the other gently massaging his balls. Joel eyed you intensely while you ate him up like a lollypop. His salty flavour inundated all your senses, your eyes pinned on his.

His fingers clenched in frustration.

“Shit, stop, I’m gonna come”, he mumbled as he pushed back to free his dick from your wicked lips.

No way in hell, you thought. He was not about to deny you that. You had been thinking about this moment for fucking months, you wouldn’t let him take that pleasure away from you.

You grasped him by his ass, your palms firmly pressing on his buttocks to take his cock even deeper. You then gave him head as best as you knew how, fastening the rhythm when you felt the pulsation coming from him.

“Fuck, baby―”, he moaned your name as he came in your hot, wet cavity.

You felt his spent hit the back of your throat. It was so tangy and musky. You swallowed all of it. Ah, delicious, you thought gleefully. You let go of his ass and released his dick from the prison of your lips.

You placed the palms of your hands on your knees, still on the ground, and glanced up at him innocently with a sweet smile painting your face. You then opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out to show Joel you had eaten all his cum ― a bridge of spit connecting the tip of your tongue to his glans.

He dropped one hand to break off the arch of saliva between you and him with his index, and fed it to you ― you gladly accepted, sucking his finger clean.

“Did I do good, sir?”, you asked with a small voice, looking for praise.

“Good? You did fucking splendid, sweetheart”, you beamed with the compliment and got up to your feet when he offered you a hand.

He took your hand, walking behind him as he headed towards the lake. He turned around to face you and kissed you slowly, his tongue caressing your palate. He then took a step back. The sun was setting on his back, the orange and red lighting reflecting off the waterbed. His brown eyes, bearded jaw, hooked nose, his hair curling at the nape of his neck… He looked like a roman God ― Mars, you thought. Joel looked like a man about to fight for his life and yours on the battlefield.

He sat down on a massive flat rock one metre away from the bank of the lake, which was approximately two metres wide in both directions.

“Now undress for me, baby”, he instructed.

You did not hesitate ― all your clothing fell to your feet, piece by piece, while Joel eagerly watched the show you put on. He wetted his bottom lip while he readjusted his cock on his lap. You stood there with dreamy eyes, awaiting. He motioned one hand towards the rock he was sat on, an invitation for you to join him.

Once you were sat on his right, he placed his left hand around the front of your neck ― a very slight touch that forced you to flatten your back against the rock while he positioned himself on top of you. He bit your chin while his left hand put a sweet amount of pressure on your throat. You could tell he was controlling himself.

“My turn”, he whispered, coming off you.

He got off the rock, kneeling on the ground in front of you. You put your elbows down on the rock to lift your torso and be able to look at him, your knees bent, the sole of your feet against the cold surface of the rocky platform. Joel grabbed you by the hips and scooted your ass over to the edge of the rock. Your legs were firmly pressed against each other, trying to hide your quivering cunt ― suddenly you felt shy.

“Spread your legs open for me, darlin’, lemme see”, he commended you with his hands on your knees.

You couldn’t say no to him, you didn’t want to. So you obeyed, dropping your legs to the sides, offering him your dripping fold. He traced your slit with his index, and you moaned.

“You’re so fucking wet already. So receptive, aren’t you?”, he asked looking at you dead in the eye, his finger sinking in between your legs, looking for the entrance. “Who gets your pussy so wet?”, he pushed his fingertip in your hole, and you groaned loudly. “Who, darlin’? Use your words”.

“You, only you, sir”, you gasped.

“This is mine”. He pushed in the second phalange.

You closed your eyes, trying to control your breathing.

“All yours, yes”.

His finger got completely sucked in down to his knuckle, stroking your g-spot. You harshly pressed your lips.

“Exactly, don’t you dare forget that”, his tone was so serious you looked at him enigmatically, not really understanding where that sudden possessiveness came from, but you loved every bit of it. And you were more than happy to put his doubts to rest.

You nodded frantically.

“I would never, sir, I swear my pussy is all yours”, you really meant it.

“As it should be”, he added a second finger as he leaned forward and kissed your mound.

You sighed, eyes teary, and flattened your back against the rock again, as Joel made out with the fatty skin above your clit. He introduced a third finger, all of them rubbing your anterior wall. Then his mouth dropped and sucked in your clit. Your knees trembled while you held both of your breasts, playing with your nipples and biting down your lip to stop your wanton screams. He insisted with his kissing until your wet cunt started fluttering around his fingers, a clear tell you were about to come. He stroked your clit with his teeth, very lightly, sending shivers up your spine. Your legs pressed against his head, tension building up. And then, finally, sweet release. You came so hard on his mouth, and he drank it all.

He unburied his head from in between your legs and glanced at you with a sufficient smile.

“You taste even better directly from your creamy cunt, baby”, you were glad he was so talkative during sex, especially if it was to praise you.

Joel placed the palm of his hand over your mound, his fingers covering your damp pussy, and rubbed with just the right amount of friction. You exhaled slowly.

“I’m gonna make you come again”, he promised.

You pursed your lips, your cunt palpitating at the prospect.

“I don’t know if I can―”, you uttered under your breath.

He raised an eyebrow, almost as if he was offended. Joel grabbed your thighs and pulled towards him; the back of your knees placed on his shoulders.

“Don’t doubt me, of course you can. I said I’ll make you”, his mouth was so close to your moist pussy you felt his cool breath on your damp skin.

You whimpered when his tongue swept your entire slit unhurriedly, from your perineum to your clit, his hand climbing up your body to squeeze one of your breasts firmly. Joel repeated that move a few times ― and your brain chemistry would be changed forever after that. He briefly pinched your nipple while he paid special attention to the core of your pleasure. Joel smothered your clit with his lips ― you closed your eyes while placing a hand over his on your boob.

Joel’s tongue stopped torturing you for a second. He nudged your clit with the tip of his hooked nose and then inhaled your sweet smell. That scent was making him go wild with lust to the point where he started fisting his cock, the tip already leaking with precum. He flattened his tongue against your swollen lips, wiggling it through the slit to touch your needy hole. He could not believe you were this wet for him ― if he had the chance, he would drink from your seeping fold every single day. This was how ambrosia tasted like ― he was damn sure of it.

He placed his hands to each side of your puffy flaps to spread your pussy open, while the tip of his tongue slipped inside of you. Your free hand flew to his head, fisting a handful of hair. Your toes clenched as he started to fuck your hole with his tongue. You felt your whole uterus contracting so hard it was almost painful. Your cum started to ooze out as a new orgasm hit you with full force, yelling his name. Joel did not waste any of it, licking it off you shamelessly.

What just happened ― that felt like sin, the most beautiful sin you had ever experienced. Your breathing was so irregular you thought you were going to have a heart attack. Then you heard Joel snickering as he got back up to his feet.

“See? Told ya”, he said smugly as you placed the elbows on the rock to lift your chest and glance at him.

He was jerking off, his cock ready for you again. You sat back up and leaned forward, your hands on his muscular thighs as you kissed the slippery tip, the shaft, then his balls. You showered pecks all over his manhood, worshipping it.

“S-sorry, sir, can I ask? Is your cock only mine? P-please?”, you asked in between smooches, almost panting, looking at him with puppy eyes.

Joel’s irises were swirling with desire, his hips slightly slanted forward towards your mouth, his dick visibly spasming while he caressed your cheek.

“All yours, yes”, he replicated your exact words, your heart fluttering with contempt.

You smiled at him before licking his testicles again ― your hand pushing his shaft against his lower belly to give you better access. Your eyes never abandoned his as your saliva covered his soft ball sacks.

This time he did step back, and you let him.

“I need you inside me, please”, you murmured.

His jaw was so tight he didn’t dare to speak. Joel could feel his heartbeat on his cock, all because of you and your wanton mouth. You looked so damn beautiful ― on your knees, staring at him through your eyelashes, patiently waiting. He knew you very well by now, fully conscious that as sweet as you were acting now, that was it ― an act. And he loved every bit of it. He liked the way you replied to him when sex wasn’t involved, taking no shit from anyone, your snarky remarks driving him crazy.

Joel sat down on the rock and motioned for you to join him on his lap. You joyfully obliged, sitting atop of him. Your knees to each side of his waist, your bust against his, skin to skin. Your nipples grazed his chest, becoming harder at the electric contact. He cupped both of your boobs and pushed them up, so he could kiss them tenderly. You sighed, your mouth against his ear. Still holding your breasts, he unattached his lips from your nipples to peck your chin.

“Fuck me, darlin’”.

You looked down between you two. His erection was so prominent you knew it was hurting him. And you could ease that pain for him. Heaving, you lifted your hips up and grabbed his dick. It was hard but soft at the same time, velvety, very warm and beating. So sensitive to the touch he groaned ― music to your ears. You hugged his neck with your free arm as you guided his tip to your leaking entrance.

With a sudden drop of your hips, you impaled yourself harshly ― his bollocks kissing your tumid lips. You circled your hips against his, very slowly, which made you both moan in unison. Then you raised your body, his cock slipping out completely. Holding him from the base, you came down on him sharply again.

Joel was close to losing his mind. If you did that one more time, he wasn’t going to be able to hold it for much longer. You seemed to understand that, because you started to rock your hips back and forth, up and down. He kneaded your ass, feeling your rhythm, spurring you on. His fingers squeezed the skin under them while he kissed your collarbone. His mind was completely blank ― he could only focus on your sweet pussy hugging him, choking him. His dick felt so wet, so hot, throbbing for release… You kept on riding him, your movements growing erratic as you both were close to climax.

You surrounded Joel’s neck with both arms, pressing your breasts against his handsome face, your hips flushed with his, as your cunt angrily convulsed around his erection in blissful liberation. Joel held it together while you recovered, his hands still on your ass cheeks, fingers so clutched they were close to dislocating.

“Baby, if you don’t get off, I’m―”, pain smeared his tone. He was really fighting for his life right there and then.

“Oh, sorry”, you said with a small voice, still feeling your own pleasure. You elevated your hips, so his manhood popped out with a squelching sound.

You were not going to leave him hanging, obviously. So you kneeled before him, in between his strong legs, and kissed his tip. Joel sighed loudly when you closed off your lips around him for the second time today and pumped his shaft fast and strong, milking him dry. A minute later, your throat was clogged with his spent. A drop of it trickled down the corner of your mouth.

Joel leaned forward and caught the cum off the corner of your mouth with his thumb before rubbing it on your lips. Then he kissed you wetly, devouring you. He could never have enough of you.

“Thank you, sir”, you whispered with a smile when he was done assaulting your mouth.

He just smiled back. A genuine smile, the first you had seen from him. It tugged at your heart a little.

You were still feeling restless. Although you had orgasmed four times already, your pussy lips were so inflamed you thought you were on your way down to hell. Still on your knees in front of him, you softly massaged your sensitive clit. It was burning ― you suppressed a sob as you glanced up at him, lips slightly parted.

“What is it? Is your tight pussy still gushing, sweetheart?”, he asked you, cupping your chin.

You nodded, tears of frustration blurring your vision.

“I need more, I can’t ― my pussy is on fire, sir”, you muttered, feeling sorry for yourself. You were in a heightened state of sensory overload.

“Let me help you with that then”, you almost cried of relief at his words.

You quickly got up and kneeled on top of his lap again. He slipped a hand in between your bodies to caress your core. Your flesh trembled at the touch. Suddenly you realised you desperately needed to find your own rhythm ― you didn’t have to communicate it, Joel understood it in a second. He stopped and let you do what you had to do. You placed the palm of your hands on his shoulders and started rubbing your pussy against the side of his still hand. You slid your cunt further up to his elbow, and then returned back to his wrist. Your clit greedily welcomed the tingling sensation of the hair on his forearm against your wet slit.

You kept on rocking your hips back and forth on his forearm, pressing hard against it, sliding, rubbing and causing as much friction as you could, the heat in your belly flowing down to your crotch. You buried your fingers in his wet hair and tilted his head backwards so you could rest your forehead against his. Your inner walls contracted extremely hard and then you let go, squirting plentifully for a few never-ending seconds on Joel’s forearm. Your overstimulated cunt was leaking on top of him as if someone had opened the tap of your pleasure and couldn’t close it. When the last wave of your climax abandoned you, you looked down to see how it all trickled down from his forearm onto his lap.

You closed your eyes, content, when he gently tapped your pussy a few times. You breathed in deeply, feeling completely satisfied, finally at peace. Then you pecked his lips with gratitude.

“Better now, baby?”.

“Yes, infinitely better. I―I’m sorry I made a mess”.

“Don’t you apologise for that”.

You both remained in that position for a few minutes ― his now relaxed, wet cock warmly lodged between the flaps of your still dribbling cunt. He hugged your waist to bring you closer to him, his mouth brushing yours in a moment of calmness you had not experienced with him yet.

When his lips released yours, you placed your cheek against his right shoulder, your fingertips tracing the scar on it. Silence ensued, neither of you felt the need to fill it with words.

As much as you fought against yourself, you had feelings for Joel. Although you probably didn’t know all his faces, you knew enough about him to love him. The way he would have you on your tiptoes with his sarcastic comments, his bluntness, his rudeness, the way he would snap back at you when you pressed his buttons ― but also his kindness, his caring side, his softness, how he worried about you making sure you were okay, his demanding sexual needs, the way he made you feel when his hands mapped out your skin.

But you were not sure what he thought about all of this. In some respects, his mind was inscrutable. It was part of his charming personality, you guessed. You kissed the scar on his shoulder as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent.

“I love how you smell”, he murmured.

“Is that the only thing you love about me?”, you couldn’t resist, the words just slipped out of your mouth. You wished you could take them back, but it was too late for that.

Joel slightly froze in place at your question. He couldn’t deny that he had started to develop feelings for you. The way you looked at him made him want to be a better person. Although you drove him crazy sometimes, you made his days bearable, a shining beautiful light amongst so much darkness. You were his lighthouse, guiding him to shore. He just needed to learn how to surf through the violent waves before he could safely approach the coast.

Knowing how close he had been to losing you had opened his eyes to a new, unknown reality. He would literally kill for you if he had to ― he had already done it and would do it all over again without blinking. No regrets whatsoever.

But he had some unresolved trust issues when it came to romantic relationships. Joel married Sarah’s mother, Charlotte, when they were both twenty-one years old, as soon as they knew they were expecting. The first two years were very hard on them both, parenthood was not a piece of cake. Resentment had grown between them, to the point where Charlotte had accused him of robbing her of her fun years, which led her to cheat on him. They tried to salvage their marriage for the sake of Sarah, but they never did ― Charlotte died in a car accident while on a heated, angry phone call with Joel.

He locked away those thoughts ― it wasn’t the time nor the place to dwell on the past. Not when he had you with him.

“I… well, no. I love everything about you, sweetheart”, he conceded.

Your heart skipped a beat with joy. No, it wasn’t a love confession, but it was much more than what you were expecting of him. You turned your face against his neck and placed a kiss on his Adam’s apple.

“C’mon, let’s freshen up, I want to clean my mess off you, I do feel a bit bad”, you said with a chuckle.

You got off his lap, the cool breeze touching your sweaty skin. You offered him a hand, which he took, standing up behind you. Without letting go of his fingers interlaced with yours, you guided him to the water. It was cold, but you ventured inside with Joel following you. When the level was up to your waist, you turned around in Joel’s embrace.

You proceeded to wash off your cum and his off his cock, his lap, his forearm. When you were done, he kissed the top of your head. His left hand did the same to you, his fingers caressing your pussy, cleaning the proof of your shared pleasure. He did so not in a sexual way, but in a caring, intimate way. A minute later, you both disappeared beneath the water to emerge a second later, to wash off all the sweat. You found yourself in his arms again, your cheek against his chest ― you could hear his heart beating loudly but steadily.

“Joel, I―”, you didn’t know where to start. There were thoughts you had been wanting to put into words for a while now. “What happened to me sucks and I still die a bit inside when the memories come back at night. But none of it was your fault, nor mine. I do not want those bastards to win, to ruin my life. And my life with you. And I know it will take time to heal that part of me, or maybe it will never heal, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want you. I want you so badly, Joel, but what I do not want is you walking on eggshells around me. I’m not broken, I want to move forward, not get stuck in the past. Do you understand what I mean?”, you asked, your cheek still against his chest, looking up at him.

His eyes were focused on yours. His heart shrunk a bit, sharing your pain. If he could, he would take it away, all of it ― the fear, the panic attacks, the agony, the memories, the nightmares. But he couldn’t change the past. So, he nodded.

“I do, honey”, he whispered as he bowed down to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

You both stood there for a few more minutes, hugging each other in silence. Then Joel grumpily ended the embrace.

“We should get back, Tommy is going to kill us”.

You laughed because it was so true. You both got out of the lake, towelled down and got dressed. You started walking towards the campsite besides him ― your hand in his, fingers entangled. When you saw the tent and Tommy’s outline against the fire, you got ready to release his hand. But he didn’t let go when Tommy turned around to look at both of you.

You tried to hide a soft smile ― and failed.

The younger Miller noticed you holding hands but made no comment about it. But he did smile. A very wide smile.

“Well, about damn time, dinner is almost ready”, he said with amusement, pointing to the rabbit impaled with a stick roasting on top of the fire. “If you took any longer, the rabbit was going to come back to life and run away”.

“Always so theatrical, Tommy”, you chuckled.

[volturiprincess]

Day 6: Six Geese a Laying

Demetri Volturi x fem vamp reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1085

(Moodboard here)

Flashback….

“What is the point of all this?”

“It will be a happy diversion”

I stare at the beautiful man who is pulling his ultimate card, the puppy eyes along with a small smile. He knows that combination he pulls off so effortlessly is my weakness, I need to learn to keep my ground with this. Demetri has suggested that I track him as he likes to track me for when we want to pass the time. Even if he has taught me everything there is to know to track over the years, I'm still hesitant. It's not like he will make this easy for me, mate or not he will have a field day with this.

This year for Christmas I wanted to lounge around with him and just lay in bed with him while he talked to me about anything that came to his mind. I love hearing him talk, his voice is so hypnotizing that even if a mortal were to hear him talk, they would do anything he says. He’s like a siren, from those Greek Mythology books we tend to read about, he likes to read things about his home because he has failed to remember anything before he was turned. 

I always tease for being some reincarnation of Apollo himself, he is like the sun and light of my life. When the sun shines on him and he shimmers that all to mesmerizing twinkle, I take a moment to realize he is actually real. How can the beauty of a man like him even exist?

When the sun hits him I am reminded of the day we meet, the fire giving him an aura of mystery but at the same time curiosity. The way when our eyes meet, I knew I was meant to be his from that moment. Even if I was difficult with him and at the start wanted nothing with him, it was still very hard to avoid him. He kept coming back to me, day after night, night after day, sometimes he would not even say anything, just watch me as I would drain my victim. 

“Very well then but…once I find you, I demand we cuddle after in our shared chambers”

“Deal, mi amor”

End of Flashback…

It's been hours of searching for him, how can I track the world's best tracker? If I told him that his ego would boost so much, I just need him to be his sweet self that I love so much. I keep walking as I grow frustrated in not being able to find him, he hasn't even left tracks on the ground, I would assume he used the trees to get to places. If I do look closer to the pine trees, there is a small disturbance in them from someone ruffling their snow off. From there I follow the trees that have signs of being touched which lead me to a little village. It looks straight from those Christmas stories I would tell Demetri at night during this time of year.

It's so peaceful, at a distance I could hear a faint violin playing some melody that I have long forgotten. It almost sounds familiar but I don't think it actually is a real song, I let the violin lead me through the village. I wish I could stay longer and explore the village, it's already night and the porch lights are on, illuminating me a path, the humans won't be able to disturb me and I would be able to control my thirst. I ended up being led outside of the village to an endless field of a white blank canvas of snow, at a distance I could spot a house with smoke coming out of it, signaling someone lives there.

I knew it was not Demetri because I could feel him leading me somewhere else. I tried to spot his footprints in the snow but there was nothing, either he was flying or he managed to jump over the field in one go. Why couldn't we do something simple, all I wanted was to be in his arms, listening to his voice for hours. You would think he would run out of things to say to me considering how long we have been together but he always says something new to me. I quite enjoy his Greek stories, it's always a new one every night.

During the winter holidays I am the one telling him stories, I tend to get creative and invent new ones, or I just improvise as I am telling the story. The way he melts into me as I'm running my hands through his locks and talking makes me feel at home. He is my home, once he finally convinced me to leave the life I was building to go with him back to Italy I knew I made the right decision. It took him two years to finally convince me to go with him, but if it weren't for him I probably would not be here. 

I heard a small meow, was that a kitten? I look around and spot it. A pepper-like kitten was running to me. It was more like hopping since the snow was deep, I went to it, falling onto my knees as it jumped into my arms. He’s so little and so precious, and he's freezing too. I'm not much of a heat source but I use my cloak and cradle him into my chest. I continued to walk a bit more to see a little fire at a distance, Demetri. Using my speed I reach him in seconds.

On the other side of the fire he sits there with another ball of fur on his lap, his kitten is ginger. As if this man can not get anymore beautiful, the kitten on his lap is the cherry on top. 

“Care to join us cariño?”

I sit by him as I show him my kitten, he smiles as he meets my eyes, his eyes getting a little twinkle from the fire. 

“There siblings, I was hoping you would name them”

“Their ours?”

“I got them for you, I remember you talking about wanting two”

“Oh Demetri, my love”

He smiled as he gave me a little peck on my cheek. I rest my head on his shoulder as I look at both kittens 

“Apollo and Artemis”

“I like that”

[chemicallywrit]

Happy Audio Drama Sunday! I heard so many good shows this week, let’s goooooo

🥃 I started listening to @breakerwhiskey this week, and I’m on episode 21 (which is nothing, it’s microfic), and it is so compelling. Lauren Shippen said in episode zero that she misses the improvisational feel of early audio dramas and that really comes through in this show—the wandering of the story reflects the wandering of Whiskey herself. I can’t wait to see what happens next.

🎵I am not alone in my reaction to the new season of @hellofromthehallowoods, which I think goes something like, “Wh—who—but—Arnold?????” (Seriously, Arnold???) but I love a mystery, and I love how linear this season is starting out. I’m sure that it’ll all get more complicated soon.

💔 Have you all heard Josie’s Lonely Hearts Club? It’s a call-in advice show from a fictional radio station and it is HILARIOUS. Until this last episode, which got SAD. It's a partially improvised show, so the whole thing feels so incredibly human and it always hits. Please listen, more fictional advice shows all around.

🐺 The Midnight Burger/The Amelia Project crossover was exactly as delightful as I expected. We got two shows that love historical figures and putting people in the deep freeze. What could go wrong! Absolutely nothing. With a crossover episode I always wonder if there will be enough character interaction to slake my insatiable character dynamic thirst and for this one I definitely think there was.

🍺 Inn Between dropped an episode of Dragon’s Rest on their feed this week, and I'm here to say that we did that because it's frikkin hilarious. This last episode was so good, especially with Shax trying to talk to a bartender and the bartender getting mad that Shax was complaining about her friends and not having a professional business conversation. I love you, southern-sounding bartender, and I love you Shax.

🩸Hemophobia continues to scare the heck out of me. This series, Camp Havenside, ended exactly how I expected it to, with the extra twist of that horrible half-possessed state Sam is in. Lordt. Listen to this show. Mind the content warnings. Then like, message me about it, it has taken permanent residence in my brain.

🎭 Oh Malevolent, you never disappoint me. I adore the twists the season finale took, and the real danger Arthur and John were in had me on the edge of my seat. How are we gonna get outta this one boys! Frikkin Kayne.

💎 As it ever is, @kingmakerpod was a blessing visited upon my podcatcher. Oh man though, Lucas Lando, what a scuzbag. Like maybe the worst villain yet in this series for me, and I'm including the psychic child. Lando's just unsavory. The action scenes in this episode were excellent, and I love the use of Pocket Cinnamon. For a minute when they were looking for things in the barn that don't conduct electricity, I was very worried for the cows. Honestly now a little surprised they didn't explode a cow. Hey guys, why didn't you explode a cow?

🌈 I've been listening to this actual play, @ourstoriedinsight, and it's about all the typical actual play stuff--a party of misfit adventurers, thrown together by circumstance, trying to stop the end of the world. What stands out about this one is its wonderful sound design and its tone--it's so introspective and kind. The characters are great too. I would die for Vishakapar. If you like an actual play and you don't want to wait for it to get really good, please check out Our Storied Insight.

As for personal news, boy oh boy am I working hard on the Dead! Pray for our recording schedule these next couple weeks. As for Inn Between, we'll be putting up an episode this week that is a true banger, I hope you like it.

That's it for me this week! If you like what I do, send me a tip!

[astrronomemes]

A BOY CALLED CHRISTMAS (2021): STARTERS

a collection of quotes, phrases, and sayings from the 2021 Netflix film, A Boy Called Christmas. change & alter as needed.

"The universe is made of stories, not atoms."

"If you believe you can do something, you're halfway there."

"We manage with what we have."

"Are you okay? Would you like a glass of water? I can ring a little bell, and someone will bring it."

"We all need hope. A spark of magic, to keep us all going."

"It's just a word. It doesn't have to mean anything."

"Oh, stop complaining. I'm hungrier than you are."

"Why can't you have nice things in your house, like marzipan, or cake?"

"Home is not a place. It's a feeling."

"Fall off a bridge, boy. It'll hurt less."

"Do you believe in magic, [name]? Because I don't think I do anymore."

"Well, that went a lot better than expected, given that I thought we were both going to die."

"Is that a yes in reindeer?"

"Let's go with no. How about that?"

"We must always help those in trouble. Even if they're human."

"I hoped for you to be strong, and warm, and always safe."

"An impossibility is only a possibility that you don't understand yet."

"To see something, you must believe in it."

"I'm gonna be honest, kid, I did not see this one working out for us."

"Whatever it is you're looking for, you won't find it here."

"No idea what this Christmas thing is, but I love it."

"That's the saddest thing I've ever heard in my entire life."

"Christmas is the greatest day of all because it is the kindest day of all."

"You don't know the first thing about truth. Nobody does."

"How fun! I've never blown up a mouse before!"

"Let's be honest, I'm not in a position to be turning away new friend material. So, new friend, what should I call you?"

"You can handle anything, because you've already handled everything."

"Lucky for you, I've got more tricks up my sleeve. And by tricks, I mean improvised, homemade explosives."

"Being good is better than being rich, [name]. Better than anything."

"Don't look at me like that, [name]. I'm doing my best."

"You're my son. And I'm on your side, no matter what."

"There is goodness in you after all."

"You have so much good to give. It's better than anything."

"There's no way you can get to a happy ending from here."

"Happiness isn't compulsory, and nothing ever ends."

"Grief is the price we pay for love... and worth it, a million times over."

"The only thing in life that is simple and clear is the truth. But it can be painful."

"You learn to live with it. And you get stronger because of it."

"Don't be a hero. Take the win."

"They look up to you, you know. We all do."

"We must not allow what we have gained to blind us to what we may lose."

"You see enough horses with horns stuck to their heads, you get a little cynical."

"If anyone deserves the infinite joy of loving and being loved, it's you."

"The darkest night will end, the sun will rise, and Christmas mornings will come again."

[utilitycaster]

The thing I've realized, in the broader Actual Play space, is that a lot of creators are trying to turn Actual Play shows into TV shows.

You mentioned Kollok in your tags, and the creator of that has mentioned creating Kollok in a way to try to appeal to the Netflix audience.

And I'm all for experimentation, but tbh if I wanted to watch a TV show, I would go watch a TV show. That's not what I'm looking for in an Actual Play and over editing and gimmicks actively turn me off from it.

Folks creating Actual Play seem to put a lot of weight on it, but I don't know if it's that important from an audience perspective.

Hey anon,

Huge same - I've been thinking about this for a while, especially in regards to choices I didn't like (notably on D20, though the Candela split screen in chapter 3, while relatively minor, felt like part of the same trend and I'm really interested in seeing whether they keep it). I actually did mean to write more about this not in the tags of a reblog, so thanks for this ask because it gives me that motivation to do it!

Earlier this year I was at an event and someone who to be totally honest I found kind of annoying was talking about Dimension 20, and I decided to keep quiet and listen to what other people had to say, and another person (whom I respect and specifically know to be like, left-leaning and inclusive and not gatekeeper dudebro type, which is relevant to the next statement) who is solidly in Gen X and has been playing D&D since at least 2e mentioned that he doesn't like Actual Play at all because he is from the era where D&D was frequently played in third person and is somewhat of a purist in that sense. Ie, this guy would say "Gawain pulls out his sword and smites the dragon, with a 24 to hit", rather than "I'm going to pull out my sword and smite the dragon." He described his idea of D&D as being very much collaborative storytelling in the sense of a bunch of third person narrators who happen to be the storytellers for one specific character, not a first-person acted scene.

I happen to like both forms of narration and am not a purist either way, and indeed use both third person and first person myself as a player (as do many actual players; you see this on CR and D20 all the time). But I think this does show just how broad this spectrum is. You have people all the way on the "I am narrating an improvised story, I am the storyteller puppeting my character and I am not trying to be immersed" side and then you have shows that are trying to push this into full immersion...but so long as you have dice rolls, you'll never achieve it.

I prefer something in between: I do love watching people act, but I really like the gears and wires! I love mechanics! I think people who say "I love actual play D&D but I don't really care for combat, only RP" don't actually like actual play D&D! This is a specific format and I do not want people to hide the fact that they are using the rules of a game and are at a table, because they are and we know it.

This came up when I and others talked about the Legend of Vox Machina adaptation: they're probably going to have to find a way to convey the same tragedy and gravity of Scanlan's ninth level counterspell that doesn't require viewers to know the mechanics, because if you watch that scene as actual play the meaning of Sam saying "Nine" is immediately apparent. It hits hard with that one single word, but that won't be the case in an animated adaptation where no one is rolling a D20. Mechanics are in intrinsic part of actual play. You can enjoy actual play without that knowledge, but a solid grounding in those mechanics will only enhance that enjoyment (well, unless you're one of those rules-lawyery weirdos who gets bitter about any GM rule of cool/homebrew that they couldn't predict from the rulebooks but those people will never be happy).

The more general context of "being in a game", not just mechanics, is also in my opinion valuable. Brennan, on a Worlds Beyond Number fireside chat, referred to certain NPCs like Caramelinda as "furious that they are in a D&D game" and it's a funny and true statement. I feel like trying to push actual play into the realm of scripted shows is that: it feels like you're trying to hide the origins, and I think the quality of the show will ultimately suffer when you do that. It feels almost ashamed of what it is, and I don't think you can make something that transforms a medium/genre/thing in between the two without having a profound love and respect for the original, even if you also find it flawed. (This is also, tbh, how I feel about a lot of attempts to divorce D&D from the fact that it is ultimately a game influenced heavily by sword-and-sorcery fantasy, or about attempts to turn high or heroic fantasy into something that neatly affirms all of one's 2024 real world political beliefs, but that's another post).

I also think that the out-of-character element of actual play is a big draw. I have been open about having complicated feelings about the parasocial and projection aspects; but those feelings are "hey, this is still a show that is a source of livelihood, you are not hanging out in someone's living room and getting weird about the fact that the CR cast no longer responds to every tweet is dumb" and "you have not been betrayed by the creators because you didn't get the plot you wanted," and "the fact that two actors sit next to each other is not, in fact, a solid basis for shipping." I am equally opposed to the idea of "the actors do not exist, only the characters do," put forward in that attempt to make actual play Netflix-ready. It's fun to watch the CR cast rib Travis for turning bright red for, as people said, pretend kissing his real wife. It's fun to watch the Intrepid Heroes heckle Brennan when he plays a villain. It's fun to hear Aabria and Erika scream at WBN plot developments and for the McElroys or the NADDPod crew to wheeze with laughter and all of these shows but CR are to a degree edited, and all leave that element in, which I think says something really important about what actual play is understood to be!

It does not escape me that the seasons/shows using heavier camera edits have often, in my opinion, sacrificed story quality for a visual style I don't even care for. I do watch prestige television, and one of the more striking cinematographic choices I've seen lately are the extremely long single take shots used on both Succession's final season (Connor's Wedding, 4x03) and The Bear's first season (Review, 1x07). Prestige TV is not doing the glitchy Neverafter stuff. Hell, I liked Sagas of Sundry: Dread and never finished Madness before it went offline and haven't made an effort to seek it out specifically because the black box theater feel of Dread felt fun and new but not too removed from actual play vibes, whereas the higher production values of Madness, ironically, made it feel too artificial and stilted to keep my interest.

Actual play is its own beast, and in trying to appeal to a new audience you're probably going to lose a lot of the one you have. A big part of why I haven't been motivated to check out Kollok is that everything I hear about it, even positive reviews, makes it sound like it's missing the things I like from actual play and doesn't achieve the level of scripted shows. Honestly I think the REAL answer here is that if you want to find a space between a Netflix drama and an Actual Play show, ditch the rules and make stuff like Midst, which is as discussed inspired by ttrpg/actual play spaces, but is broadly plotted out in advance. I think that approach can combine the best of both worlds, whereas I feel as though attempting to be a Netflix show will usually spend so much time trying to hide the fact that there's a table there that it will detract from the actual story.

[somerandomcockroach]

Okay-okay-okay, I really need to put out some silly thoughts from "Autocracy" IDW and sleep peacefully Of course I liked it ha-ha, it is filled with revolution, double revolution, triple revolution Autocracy spoilers, I guess?

• They call each other old-timers if they are older pffht • Firstly, help, Soundwave's kids are CRAZY, I mean I saw them fighting good against autobots but when Soundwave was running away, he was just "Go, my pokemon", and his kids were absolutely destroying everyone on his tail • OH I ABSOLUTELY LOVED all dialogues between Megatron and Orion Pax, from future I got that they were friends, so they know each other, but somehow Megatron is much better at guessing how Orion will act. Megatron thinks as a real tactician, using bots as his weapon, having a backup plan even if it required lifes of other bots. Orion, even from his origin, never seemed a person of "plan b", he improvise but he relies a lot on his comrades, they are a strong team, they are his plan b, and while this whole corruption situation was irritating him more and more, he became more violent and less considerable about proper plans, it goes as it goes. I guess that's why Megatron was underestimating him plus added the fact of how much power he got. Yeeeet~ Orion is using what Megatron did write, quotes it, and I'm sure he meant it in the right way, while Megatron's way is violent. "Criminal posing as a revolutionary and revolutionary posing as a cop" is my fav ship. He is using Orion in his plans in pretty curly and good ways ○ OKAY, a little note, but Megatron finds Starscream as very useful and trustful liege, it started amazing me from Megatron's origin where they were coming up with plans on spot without discussing. Then Sterscream really is good with his talking, responsible for many-many things and achieves them successfully. It is so surprising for me after all the jokes about them pfffht

(Megatron in his happy dreams happily holding hands with Orion and destroying autocracy together, but then he wakes up because remembers he will have to kill him then)

I'm cackling again. "Protect autobots at all cost!". Decepticons "Huh, how worthy these bots must b- "*sees Orion* "Ah, no more questions"

When you want to get your beloved you must push to the very end pfffffht

• I KNOW RODIMUS. I know him from future series and AHAHHAH OH MY EMOTIONS WHEN I SAW THAT HE WAS THE BOMBER, and played a big part in this story, the absolute opposite side of his character! I remember reading fic by @/lush-specimen where Hot Rod was helping EVERY bot in need, decepticons or autobots, taking everyone in need. AND NOW I SO MUCH SEE IT. He was another kind of revolutionary, he was the middle, oppressed kind of bots. He is a pretty young one, he lived in golden era, in alive city, now bots are dying on his eyes yet he protects and stands for them. He DIDN'T join decepticons yet he was fighting against cops. BUT he saw that maybe Orion can help since he was against government. He helped decepticons to show the truth to the ones who could change something, because he saw that it can help them, not decepticons. He isn't that funny ha-ha boy I saw in mtmte and ll. He had to burst his own "family" so that they will not become the fuel for Zeta Prime's destruction tools. Their deaths were on him. He became the leader to get out his people and did bear their deaths on his shoulders. No wonder he became a good even if silly leader in the future, he knows the price of life.

Writers: "Let's leave a hint about him being the new ruler. BUT LITTLE DID THEY KNOW WHAT HIS CHARAcTER WILL BE AHAHHAHA"

• "Till all are one". The matrix. THIS IS WHAT KEPT ME IN CHOKEHOLD AHAH. This phrase come from here, the change of Orion come from here, it all is in here. LISTEN. THA MATRIX LET THE HOLDER FEEL SPARKS. HE FELT SPARKS OUTSIDE THE PLANET. I wonder if he feels when someone's spark fades/dies, does he feel something about it or he got so used to it. I was wondering how exactly and from what point Orion changed to his serious Prime. He could NOT NOT change. The matrix gave him an ability to feel everyone, gave him an understanding of the concept of what unity of bots is. He could never become his past again because he bears this burden of lifes that he will never be able to get rid of now. But what made me sad is that Metroplex recognised him as his "old friend". He didn't call him by name of that friend. I guess it is because he had decades of such friends. They all have pretty similar ideas and characters. They get matrix and the same idea gets in their head. They become someone who already was there, real side of you erasers even if not completely. PFhegfheg. Even the name he got. He himself can't get used to it, meaning he has to get used to it like he is forced to his new self

• Prowl ~ There are earlier times and I don't see that great tactician that I used to read about him. He is a good soldier, who follows orders, he trusts Orion, he follows his orders, he isn't the one coming up with plans. He still is more groundly on the "rule" side, but he understands what is bad for bots, he listens to Orion more, he is the one who gives final orders. He ends up going against government, siding with these dissidents, even siding with decepticons to get rid of what could have destroyed them all. It's just a bit unusual for me to see him be "in team", follow, don't have his own side plan, don't be beaten up wheeeeze

• That's a bit.... sad to see them like this, knowing who Shockwave was before. And now it is this.

• Oh, they yap at each other, shipped

• Don't look, kid, parents are fighting

Okay, ahaha, I feel like I've wrote something too messy to understand or too silly to be real, my only thoughts left are described by tsche-chu-chu-che-tsche

[ddarker-dreams]

hi locky!!!♡ this might be really personal, but have you thought about SR reader being comforted by her boys after or during an anxiety stage? if you feel fine with it, of course🥺💕 it's just that your SR story is a comfort to me🌸

HI HI i have seen you in my notifs enjoying SR and it's brought me lots of much joy!!!! i consider it a comfort series too, so i'm happy whenever i see it fulfills a similar role for others. coincidentally, i've thought about how anxiety might play a role in SR reader's life. she has a lot to be anxious about tbh hjrktme she doesn't want to take the time to process things and would much rather distract/keep herself busy... it's an element of her characterization i haven't explored enough!

[Scarlet Ribbons index]

Warning: Depiction of anxiety/panic attacks.

Giorno

Giorno is checking you all over for injuries that aren't present, given the attack's psychological nature. Once he confirms there's nothing physically wrong, his mind goes back to the long nights he spent without his mother as a child. That level of visceral panic mimics what he's witnessing here. He does what he wishes he had a parent around to do for him — speaks to you in a low voice, reassures you that he's not going anywhere, that it's going to be okay. He'll gently remind you to breathe. Considering he's improvising on the spot, he does a good job. He'd have a lot of questions, ranging from how frequently this happens to if there's any way to circumvent it, but he'll hold his tongue until things settle down. His initial panic further reveals to him just how much he cares for you and your wellbeing.

Bruno

Bruno never loses his cool, but seeing you succumb to this paroxysm out of (seemingly) nowhere almost has him spiraling. He's known you the longest out of all the others, so he mentally derides himself for not catching onto this earlier. The cheeriness you exude masks anything you don't want others to see. He wants you to feel comfortable enough to tell him anything. Due to his protectiveness over you, he might insist on going to the hospital, so long as you aren't vehemently opposed. The powerlessness he feels watching you battle your anxiety is the worst part, he wants nothing more than to make it stop. He might be a bit pushy about getting you to explain what just happened if you aren't volunteering the information. It comes from a well-intentioned place, though.

Fugo

Fugo does surprisingly well considering how delicate the situation is. He excelled at academics, which naturally encompasses psychology as well. He probably understands what's happening here best. This knowledge doesn't translate seamlessly into reality — due to the tension in the air, his words come out more clipped than he intended — though he's still able to lead you through some steps to calm down. It's a touch clinical but it works. Afterward, he's digging through scientific journals and learning everything there is to learn about anxiety. He's especially interested in what may have caused it, so that you can avoid it repeating in the future. He's practically a licensed psychiatrist by the end of the week. Obtaining knowledge helps him feel more in control of an otherwise chaotic situation, so this is his way of making sense of things to help you better.

Mista

Mista snaps into a more serious version of himself immediately. He has excellent interpersonal skills, from your body language alone, he could tell something was wrong before the panic attack actually occurred. It helps that he also knows you like the back of his hand. If this is the first time he's been around for this, he'll use his intuition to infer the best way to help. Should you seem receptive to it, he'll talk to you in a low voice, serving as a grounding figure amidst the tumult. He has this infectious optimism that you can't help but be soothed by. When you're feeling up to it, he'll ask if you wouldn't mind telling him what that's about. He definitely doesn't want you to have to go through it again.

Narancia

Narancia, bless his heart, initially makes it kinda worse. He isn't exactly a mental health aficionado. Since he doesn't see any clear cause and effect, he'll mistake it for a Stand attack. He'll summon Aerosmith and promise to take care of whoever is behind this. When you insist it isn't a Stand attack, he'll start fussing over you, asking how he's supposed to help. He's horrified by the thought of anything happening to you, his best friend whom he loves dearly. Until you're feeling up to explaining what anxiety is, he sticks to your side like glue. If this happens again, he'll do a lot better. It's just the first time where he's at a loss on what to do.

Abbacchio

Abbacchio is at an absolute loss but manages to maintain a composed façade. He might not understand the specifics of what's happening, but he knows he should take you to a private area. It's rather jarring to see you go from your jovial disposition to being overwhelmed by some force he can't make sense of. It twists his heart and churns his stomach. He'll wonder if you've silently been dealing with this all along. He isn't the best at waxing poetic, but he'll be there until it subsides. He quietly apologizes for not being of much help in the moment. When you tell him that just having him present was all you could've asked for, he honestly feels somewhat emotional. He will sit there for hours and listen to you talk about it, if that's what you want.

[ladymostdeject]

Seeking Radiodust Beta Reader

I'm writing a post season 1 Five Times Angel Dust called Alastor Daddy fic and I'm looking for a beta!

I'm three chapters in, and it's about 14k long now, and each chapter has been exponentially longer than the last, so I really don't know how long it's going to be.

I'm looking for help with typos and sentence structure, and maybe someone to bounce some later ideas off of, also would love help deciding how to tag it.

It's surprisingly light on the daddy-kink considering the name. Like... very light.

Actually if someone who's into Daddy-kink wants to be my Daddy-Kink advisor that would be amazing.

Contains: Present-tense, Angel is super horny for Kaiju!Alastor, asexual alastor, bdsm in later chapters, though I don't know how explicit I'm going to get (knowing Angel though probably pretty explicit), It swaps perspectives between Angel and Alastor, Alastor is... so crazy. I think it's pretty funny, but I'm also not shying away from dark ex-abuse-victim-stuff (angel doesn't work for Val anymore but there's fallout it's not swept under the rug).

There's a sample from chapter 2 under the cut

That spider fellow was turning out to be far more entertaining than Alastor could have ever expected!

Why, he hadn’t danced this much since his last partner started stepping out with that wretched moth and his brain oozed out of his… well. It seems very clear to Alastor that Valentino’s hellish power is to make other demons boring.

Not that Vox was ever anything but a mediocre dancer. Angel, though! Oh ho! Not only is Angel excellent at following, but he already knows the proper forms, so Alastor is free to improvise and experiment on the fly! Not even dear Charlie can keep up with him quite so well, quick study though she is. What a waste! To have had him chained to a harlot’s dancing pole for so long, when he has such a talent! And passion! Every time Alastor has solicited a spin around the floor, Angel has indulged him with a joyful laugh.

Then of course, there’s the cooking. With all the new wayward souls to feed, Alastor has had a crash course in Italian batch meals from a surprisingly knowledgeable teacher. Furthermore, he seems quite happy to trade a story about his Zizi for one about Mother. Though, Alastor frequently adds extra seasoning when Angel’s back is turned. His family recipes are tasty, but could always use a little more kick. The result is something Angel calls “Louisitalian”.

And! And! Just the other day Niffty came to get him on account of some commotion and by the time Alastor arrived, Angel had it well in hand! He’d knocked the poor sap right to the floor and had him pinned, fine as a dandelion! Effective communication, with magnificent stagecraft!

Afterwards, he had been cycling between playful glee and that long, deep stillness that Alastor had come to know intimately. That night he saw something powerful in Angel. It was a thing he’d had to find on his own, and it was rare. If exercising such a small amount of passion was enough to trigger that state for Angel, Alastor suspected he would make as natural a hunter as he does a dancer.

Best not to actually invite him on a hunt, though. It would upset Charlie if Angel started killing recreationally again, and Alastor has already put a great deal of effort into cultivating an arrangement with her that results in few questions about what exactly Alastor is doing when nobody is looking.

He will have a think on how to manufacture further opportunities for Angel to practice violence that Charlie cannot morally object to.

What would it have been like if he had recruited Angel in those early days before he was broken and left to fester? It would have been so useful to have him in the collection! To have a true artist’s soul, free to shape as he’d like! He marveled at all the different directions he could have taken his myriad talents, instead of having him wasting away underneath that – UGH! Why it makes him feel… Well, its an unpleasant emotion, to be sure.

The problem is fixed now, Alastor took care of it quite handily. If every problem could be solved in such a simple and satisfying manner, he’d run out of problems altogether! If he had killed that frivolous moth decades ago, he might have been able to free another soul or two wilting under his insufficient light. Why, he’d practically become a philanthropist in the autumn of his career, and isn’t that just the way of it, sometimes?

Unfortunately, the only thing that would upset Charlie more than the ruination of Angel’s little redemption effort would be Alastor collecting his soul. And to think she didn’t consider herself an overlord. A tragedy.

If he can’t own him, he’ll have to settle for a dance here and there. At least it will keep him entertained while this little job drags on.

The hotel wasn’t supposed to work, and his job here is so much more complicated now that it does.

~*~

Angel Dust has a long, storied career being groped, manhandled, and roughhoused in every way imaginable. He’d even invented some new ones. And yet, he feels as if he’s never been grabbed more in his life. Alastor has popped out of so many nooks and crannies that Angel’s startle reflex has given up the ghost.

Usually, it goes like this: Some swing tune will start playing out of fucking thin air, and he just holds out his arms, ready to be swept away by Alastor’s shenanigans.

He hummed one beloved song from the Radio Demon’s childhood or some shit, and suddenly he’s being hunted by a dance beast! Alastor might not be regular-horny, but he’s, like, the dance-horniest man in Hell! Angel has started wearing his more comfortable boots all the time even when they don’t match.

Angel had seen him spinning Charlie around plenty of times, usually when he was trying to manipulate her into doing something he wanted (or into forgiving him when Alastor does something terrible), but Alastor doesn’t seem to be trying to get anything out of Angel other than a dance (or two five hundred). At least he hasn’t set off Angel’s bullshit detector yet.

Angel had wanted Alastor to look at him, to notice him. And oh boy, did he get what he asked for. That attention is so much weirder and more fanatical than he could have ever expected. On the other hand, it comes with way less sex than he would prefer. Al’s such a gentleman, he won’t even try to cop a feel! Doesn’t he have eyes? Does he not appreciate Angel’s sexual magnetism!? It’s insulting, is what it is.

It’s not like Angel doesn’t also love a good dance, he absolutely does, though he’s starting to question if anyone loves dancing as much as Alastor. He loves the breathless feeling he gets dancing with Alastor, but he’d like him to turn it down from an eleven to, like, a nine and a half - eight, minimum.

It’s really cute, actually. Angel can tell he’s trying to make friends, but it’s almost like no one ever taught him how. Or how to relax.

[thedragonagebigbang]

Bang Creator Interview: Tumblr: @crabs-with-sticks  |  AO3: CrabsWithSticks

The Collaboration period has begun! In these quiet months before works are due, we want to foster a sense of excitement, camaraderie, and celebration among our participants. To that end, all participants were given the option of a formal interview by our mod, Dema, or an informal “ask-game” survey. We hope you enjoy getting to know our phenomenal creators as much as we have!

Found Family in Crisis!!!!!! How This Local Woman's Life Just Keeps Getting Worse!!!  

Jacs and Dema talk music, tragedy, DMing tabletop games, and OCs who won't follow the damn rules

Dema: Good morning! Happy Saturday. Are you writing today? 

Jacs: I'm hoping to! Though I might be taking a break from my actual project to do some fun oneshots. Give myself a bit of time away from the tragedy of my bang fic and write something happy haha

Dema: That is very fair! Especially with heavier fics. How do you get in the zone to write, regardless of the project? Or does it vary depending on the vibes of your fic?

Jacs: Normally it involves getting nice and cozy under a blanket on the couch with a good cup of tea. I'll sometimes put a playlist on to get into a particular vibe, I've got a bunch of character playlists which can help get into the perspective of whatever oc I'm writing that day.

Dema: I won't get too specific with this question but, if there is one song on your playlist that especially fits your bang fic, what would it be?

Jacs: Hmm, I'd say probably 'Sampson' by Regina Spektor. The song is based on a tragic biblical story and is all about what could have happened if things had worked out differently. If the love had been enough to save them, then they wouldn't have been remembered by history but they would have been happy.

Dema: Oh okay, arrow straight to the heart. I see, I see.

Jacs: Yeah, I'm a known tragedy enjoyer, just rolling around in the sadness like a dog in a puddle. In order to get optimal levels of tragedy you gotta have some happiness first just so that readers can really see that it didn't have to be this way (but they never could have changed it).

Dema: I can't wait to read it! I also love tragedy, and especially in that ratio. Is there a particular one-shot idea you have kicking around, to cleanse the palate?

Jacs: Not sure! Though probably something with my oc Luca Trevelyan with Dorian, though I haven't actually managed to get very far through that particular playthrough yet....I'm a bit of a serial oc creator who then never gets around to actually playing them in the game.

Dema: Do you always make your OCs in game? Even if you don't get around to the playthrough? 

Jacs: Yep! It’s probably my favourite part of Dragon Age, or any CRPG. I really like thinking up characters, with their conflicts and histories. I'm a forever DM in real life, so I'm fairly used to making up characters and then never playing them, although at least with Dragon Age I already know the events of the game they'll be going through, so I have a better idea of their development arcs. I am trying to do a re-playthrough of the whole series before Veilguard comes out, but we'll see how successful that is haha.

Dema: Do you find that DMing has informed the way you structure your stories?

Jacs: I'd say that it probably has. When I DM I'm always keeping a hand on the pulse of all the characters, their emotions and where they're at in their arcs, because my aim is really to tell a good story. So I think it can help me to see things from the big picture as well as a more mechanical perspective. Though sometimes I do need to tell myself to stop looking at the big picture and just focus on what is at hand.

Dema: I'm a bit in awe of DMs. To me it seems like being the conductor of an orchestra, except all your musicians are improvising. Do your characters sometimes feel like players? Or do they tend to stay within the lines?

Jacs: They do end up getting away from me sometimes, or they'll do something that leaves me going 'huh, why did you just make that decision', because I know it's accurate but I'm not entirely sure why. Though sadly there's no actual player to ask...just my brain. I was intending to make quite a whimsical and happy Brosca, but she just keeps doing morally grey things!

Dema: HAHA ah yes, relatable. I find it's such an interesting balance, for me, between wanting everything in the story to feel a bit inevitable (especially in a tragedy!) and embracing the realism of some things just not having a clear explanation, especially character decisions.

Jacs: Yeah for sure! It's great when characters are messy and contradictory, I just wish it wasn't so hard...I had a character at one point who was making a whole bunch of decisions I wasn't expecting or had planned for, and I'd try to think 'ok why is this character doing this?' and all she supplied in return was 'I'm lactose intolerant'...which honestly was a very in character response; just straight up ignoring the question. 

Dema: A character in writing, or a character in a campaign you were DMing?

Jacs: A character I was writing.

Dema: Hahaha, incredible.

Jacs: I sometimes have, I guess little 'conversations' with my characters in my head where I tap into the section of my brain that they live in.

Dema: That's a great strategy! Is that how your characters first come to be?

Jacs: Hmm, I think the conversation part comes a bit later when I have some context for them, either in their history or in the game itself. It starts off as a lot of collaging together different ideas until it makes a full character. Often I start off from a particular theme or emotional angle I'm interested in exploring. So one started off as 'religious trauma', and another from 'idealism in a cruel society' and so on.

Dema: Has that first theme or idea ever come from a really unexpected source? And related to this, do you tend to be primarily inspired by the source material itself? I know that's a big reason so many of us love DA in particular.

Jacs: I think the themes are usually all ideas that I'm already interested in, but it's super fun seeing the way it can connect to the worldbuilding and lore. I think it's really important for characters to have specifics which tie them into the world around them, so thinking about how their family might have lived in the particular part of the world they're from, how they and the people around them either adhere to or go against it, and what impact that would have on their story. It's really fun looking at how a theme can change based on where the character comes from, like a character with conflict based around religious trauma is going to be different if they're human, Dalish or a city elf, and the world will react to them differently because of that.

Dema: Now I simply must ask you if you ever write AU fics.

Jacs: I haven't written many to be honest, though I do have some ideas for some. It can be hard translating a story that is really rooted in the specifics of one particular world and translating that to another. So I'm always really impressed to see when other people do it so well! I often find you can find a good parallel for one aspect of a character, but then you have to try to fit a second aspect or character conflict in and it doesn't fit the new world at all!

Dema: I feel the same!

Jacs: Writing; it's hard man.

Dema: It is! So why do you do it!? And a follow-up question: writing is hard, and you're signed up for a Big Bang! What made you interested? Is it your first one or have you done this before?

Jacs: It's like a wonderful little puzzle; except it can be all wibbly wobbly and just like real life it doesn't always need to make sense- it's lovely just to embrace the humanness of character writing!

So a bit of context, I recently finished postgraduate studies, and realised I didn't have any hobbies! I used to love creative writing of any sort when I was but a young whippersnapper (they say, in their mid 20s), so I decided to embrace the cringe and get back at it. I've never participated in any fandom events, or even written something this long that wasn't academic! But I'm really loving the community around this event and getting to chat to other writers as we all write (and suffer) together!

Dema: In the last minutes, and just for fun: can you come up with a click-bait title for your fic? Without giving anything major away, of course.

Jacs: Maybe something like 'Found Family in Crisis!!!!!! How This Local Woman's Life Just Keeps Getting Worse!!!’  (To quote the venerable Sir Terry Prattchet: And all those exclamation marks, you notice? Five? A sure sign of someone who wears his underpants on his head.)

Dema: Ten out of Ten, would click again. Thank you so much for setting aside this time to chat with me!

Jacs: No worries! I had a great time!

[firequeenofficial]

Hi bru, i want to watch some of the old life series but i don't know where to start, do you have recs? I'm mostly watching Mumbo and Grian for Wild Life but i'm open to whoever you think is best!

Ohohoho, you have come to the right person! (Activated adhd midnight hyperfixation mode)

*Serious rambling under the cut! You have been warned!*

I'm going into this with the belief that you haven't watched any of it yet.

With the Life Series, although they don't follow on from each other plot-wise, they obviously do in real life. Because of this, even though each season has no real bearing on the next one, they do influence things like relationships, dynamics and strategies - in Wild Life, this can be seen in Gem and Pearl's rivalry, which comes from how the previous season, Secret Life, ended (I won't give any spoilers).

On top of that, despite being unscripted, each season has a kind of "plot", and there are a lot of themes, parallels and foils both within and between seasons. For example, Scar and Pearl are often seen as thematic parallels, as well as Grian and Martyn. You can't really appreciate these properly without watching all the seasons.

Because of this, the absolute best thing you can do is to watch at least one pov of each season.

Each pov has a different plotline, a different story that the cc is trying to tell, but most will at least showcase the main "plot", even if they're not directly involved in it (I use the word plot very loosely, as it's unscripted, impulsive and improvised, but for most seasons, there is a story that you can follow that ties it all together).

There's also the matter of the different vibes/atmosphere in each pov. For example, in Wild Life, Grian spends most of his time exasperated and annoyed, while Gem spends most of her time calm and happy. Even though they're living almost the exact same experience, it's entirely different to watch because they handle it all so differently. Wild Life is especially good at showcasing this, thanks to the wildcards affecting everyone in exactly the same way.

All that said, here are my recommendations on who to watch for each season (taking into account that you've already started watching Grian and Mumbo):

(Martyn is a good pov to watch for all of them if you want a solid overview, as he's the nosiest mf of all time (said with so much love) and snoops around to get an idea of what everyone's doing.)

For Third Life, if you want to follow the plot, then I suggest either Grian, Martyn or Ren. Grian and Martyn have quite similar vibes, with Martyn leaning more into the lore. Ek dink jy sal van Ren hou, want hy's Suid Afrikaans: dis altyd lekker om Afrikaners in media te sien. Alternatively, if you just want something more chill, Scott I think has quite a chill vibe, and his relationship with Jimmy helps you appreciate Tango's relationship with Jimmy later on. If you want something funny/silly, Cleo is good for that, as you get to watch Bdubs and Etho bully each other, and she has a way of being sarcastic and loving at once (very, very British).

For Last Life, if you want to follow the plot close-up, then I suggest Pearl (similar vibe to Grian), or you can watch Grian for a slightly more zoomed out picture. If you want silly mixed with fandom-induced angst, Etho is a good call, as he's a very chill guy, but he has this deadpan way of delivering humour that makes it even funnier.

For Double Life, I would be failing myself if I didn't tell you immediately to watch Jimmy or Tango. Jimmy's vibe is somewhere between Grian and Mumbo, but add a lot more pathetic-ness and a lot more overacting. Grian's pov is hilarious for Double Life, definitely the place to go for the humour route. For plot, either Scott, Cleo or Pearl. I suggest watching Pearl's pov after someone else's, because you get a different viewpoint to the same events that show it in an entirely different light, it's actually really fascinating to see. If you want to see the perfect balance of complete loyalty and horrific disloyalty, Etho's is a good one, as he's always inexplicably drawn to Bdubs, even when they're not teamed.

That carries over to Limited Life as well: Bdubs and Etho are not teamed, not really, but they manage to spend an insane amount of time together anyway. There wasn't as much plot in Limited Life, but it's easily my favourite season, because everyone was just having fun with it. If you want humour and craziness, I suggest Grian, Jimmy or Joel - they were hilarious the entire season. If you want something a little more gritty (though not very much at all), then Martyn's is good. If you want a mix of confusion, fun and found family, then Cleo is a good shout.

For Secret Life, Scar's pov is a must. You get the main plot, silliness and angst rolled into one. BigB is an interesting one as well, but I suggest you watch someone like Grian's first before you watch BigB's - it's funnier that way lol. Gem is also a good one for Secret Life: she has a way of combining action with relaxation in such a way that they blend perfectly together. Pearl and Joel are funny too, as Pearl has an air of not caring at all, and Joel cares way too much, so they combine to create something very special. Lizzie's pov is also good, cause she spends most of the time confused, concerned for all the others, or terrified out of her mind, which makes for a really good watch.

Real Life is very fun from every pov, to be fair. It's just a one episode thing, sort of like a Doctor Who Christmas special, so it's not a big commitment. I recommend watching Pearl's, as well as Jimmy's. Both are really funny. Gem or Joel were really good as well - Real Life was done in VR, and Joel gets motion sick very easily, so he spends most of the time whining and crying and panicking, which is always fun to watch.

For Wild Life, you've said you're watching Grian and Mumbo's. These are great, as they're freaking hilarious. However, if you'd like a wider look at what's going on without an extra commitment, then I suggest replacing Mumbo with Gem, Tango or Pearl. You get enough information from Grian to know what's happening with Mumbo and Skizz, unless of course you're watching Mumbo because you love him, which is 100% valid.

All of this, of course, is just suggestions and my own personal opinion. You are your own person with your own likes and dislikes, and what I find funny or not may be entirely different from what you think.

I hope this all made sense. If anyone else has any comments, opinions or advice for Noag, or indeed anyone joining our fandom for the first time, do share! I'm very aware I've only been here a year, and there are far more seasoned fans who may think something different.

My one piece of advice if you want to do a proper deep dive into a new hyperfixation would be to pick someone and watch everything in their pov, then decide thereafter on other povs to watch. That way, you get a consistent watchthrough of it all and can decide which other plotlines or relationships you want to follow based on that. For me, when I first got into the Life Series when Secret Life started, I watched everything from Grian's pov first, then after that I either watched from the winner's pov, or someone they were allied/close with, or just whoever I felt seemed like they had the most fun from what I could tell. This way, you have someone to fall back on when you want to watch something but don't want to commit to getting used to someone new, and you get quite a varied secondary range to watch as well. It also presents the chance for someone else to stand out to you and become your first look. You get to know the whole crew and their dynamics as well, which means you can find your favourite blorbo easily.

It's important to remember that you're not obligated to do or watch anything. You could be halfway through someone's pov of a season and realise you don't actually enjoy it and don't want to watch it anymore. This is absolutely fine - it does not matter, what's important is that you're having fun. Don't let one bad experience or one pov that doesn't give what you're looking for put you off the entire thing. It's not a big deal to switch povs if you're not enjoying yourself.

[marvanne111]

moments I love in "Tempting Fête"

"I can only read what I've got written down, Mr. Funt." "Councilor Funt! -Funn, Councilor Funn."

the fact that it's been 11 years of this Funn/ Funt debate (alternatively, that both the reverend and the mayor have addressed him properly the last three episodes and seemed to have no problem with it)

"Yes, well, I'll see what I'm doing that day" -leading the funeral, one would hope?

underrated bit of the series in general: cell service only being available in the reverend's bathroom

"I think he's quite dishy" (this scratches such an itch in my brain; I quote it once a week)

the mayor and reverend (who will be dating by the end of the episode) agreeing emphatically with the above statement

the reverend wearing eye shadow! (incredible, show stopping, spectacular, never been seen before)

"It was one mouse! and, and I don't know anything about it"

"All opposed?" "... I mean, I'd say opposed is a strong word-" "Done! Carried unanimously!"; "All opposed? "I, uh-" "Overruled! Motion carried!"

"We already have an identity: it's miserable and it works." (i want this on a t-shirt)

"There hasn't been a fête for eleven years." "Astonishing. Who's in charge of local events?" "Rudyard." "Ah."

"Look, it's easy to throw money around and get excited about rustic dancing, but we've got-" "I'LL SAY IT IS!"

"His world had once again become an increasingly scary place. There was only one thing left to do..." "Georgie?" "Yeah?" "We're emigrating."; "It was time for swift and decisive action, and there was only one place to head for: Reverend Wavering's bathroom"; at the funeral I was able to witness Rudyard, bereft of Reverend and with few attendees, deliver a stirring and entirely improvised speech about the circuities of fate, the struggles of discord, and an intractable acceptance of the way the cookie crumbles, a sermon that moved the late Basil Corbett’s niece to say, quite simply:" "We want our money back" (some really fantastic narration moments in this one that make me giggle every time)

Rudyard including Madeleine in the emigration plans is said so sweetly and it honestly makes me a little soft

"One word: Chapman." "I should return his calls-" "Chapman?" "- probably won't, though"

"Rudyard, other people do those things for you!" "Conscription?" "Volunteering!"

"I, I, I do like spreadsheets!"

(No Madeleine, I hate raffles!") (these posts are always so Rudyard-centric lol and it's helped me come to the conclusion that he really is the funniest)

"Do you know how many gallons of fluid I'll have to drain from a man that size? Possibly thousands!" "What a ridiculous lie!" (this is another one that I quote often lol)

"I wish I were Mrs. Carnegie!" "You will be, Mrs, Turner. You will be." (WHAT IS THIS RESPONSE?!)

"Fancy a funeral?" "That a threat?"; "Don't forget your funeral." "Was that a threat?"

"Socializing? That'd take up ten minutes and then what would they do? No. Perpetual scheduled activity, that's the way."

"Put some clothes on!" "IT'S MY HOUSE!"

"Antigone?" "What?!" "Helicopters!" "Go back to your side of the table."

"Now get over there and sabotage something!" "*sigh* Fine." "Do you really think that's going to help?" "Oh maybe not, but it'll cheer me up."

"Called up the family, made up a story about... well, re-organizing a fête, that sort of thing." "How did they react?" "Well, they weren't very happy..." "But?" "No, that's it, they weren't very happy."

"You know, I can actually see your future." "Oh yes?" "Mmm hmm. And it involves this crystal ball getting shoved STRAIGHT up your-"

"Alright sir! Mission accomplissshhhhed." "Hello, Georgie." "Hello..." "Get out, Georgie." "Goodbye..."

The Mayor trying to rustic dance for a couple of hours before giving up

Lady Templar's glass eye. (That's it. That's the post.)

"He'd be spinning in the grave you haven't put him in yet!" (best line of the episode honestly)

"What a dreadful little man!" "Yes... mind you, he looks good in a suit"

"Even in a crowd, they all look lonely" (🤌🤌🤌)

"Can't win 'em all" 'Winning anything at all would be a nice change." (also want this on a t-shirt)

"You like to be the hero, don't ya?" (Georgie's the GOAT)

"Rudyard. Do you know what this chap did?" "Yes, he told me" (my man is already so tired of Eric lol)

[omegasmileyface]

The Foleys' Incredible Crisis

Chapter 1: Call It Stormy Monday

Call It Stormy Monday (But Tuesday Is Just as Bad) was written and performed in 1947 by T-Bone Walker. It is one of the most popular Blues songs ever, and has been performed and reiterated by countless other musicians. It has been credited with inspiring B.B. King to take up electric guitar, and it is included in the Library of Congress.

Happy Invisobang!!! This should have been posted earlier in the week but I couldn't make myself get to the computer to finalize/format it. Hehe. This year I had the INCREDIBLE experience of working with Shadow and Sharks, who were such wonderful artists— they have a whole smörgåsbord of art to please your eyes in this story! They have kept me on my toes— as I write this, the final, collaborated illustration is still a secret to me 👀 Lola is an OC I named once I realized Tucker absolutely feels like he has a little sister. Since then she's been in my heart and I can't let her go. My wonderful girl Lola. It's a treat whenever I get to see her in the wild— I almost had a heart attack when she appeared in Lex Luthor's Ascent from Supervillainy to Fatherhood by halfagone!

For a directory of all currently posted chapters and related content, check out the Table of Contents!

fic summary: After a whole week of vacation stuck together, the Foleys were more than happy to have some time apart. So when they each found themselves caught up in ghost business, that meant handling it alone. Angela wasn't planning on improvising a ghost conspiracy, Maurice was hoping to avoid working IT, Lola didn't think playing a hero would take her out of school, and Tucker would really have liked to focus on his own problems. But, really, what else did they expect from Amity Park? Home, sweet home.

words: 2269

AO3 link

next chapter [pending]

Tucker dropped his bag with a thunk. He was far beyond caring to be delicate, despite the electronics inside— he just wanted to shed his shoes and jacket and maybe the memories of the trip along with them.

"Ohhhh-kay," said his mom, grimacing at the trash can. Nobody had thought to empty it before they left. "What a vacation!" She laughed emptily. "I'm going to bed. You can fend for yourselves for dinner."

Tucker's dad popped back out from behind the bathroom door. "Before you go," he called over the rush of the faucet, "can we all just agree? Real quick, get in the den and then we can all ignore each other."

Lola sighed loudly and gave up untying her shoe, just kicking it off. Tucker agreed. He couldn't wait to wash his hands after the long trip.

His dad dried off his hands and joined them in the den, looking each of his family members in the eyes one by one. "I propose we never talk about this trip unless we have to."

Everyone agreed with as much fervor as they could muster after the fraught day.

"Also," said Lola, "I think we should try not to talk to each other for a whole day."

"Works for me," said Tucker.

His mom yawned. "Much as I love you all, I'm good with a day pretending you don't exist. Tucker, can you walk with Lola to and from school tomorrow?"

He looked at his little sister. She shrugged.

"As long as she plays nice, yeah."

His dad clapped. "Cool. Alright. So, unless one of us needs something, we all mind our own business tomorrow? Okay. I'm gonna order a pizza, and... I'll sleep in the guest room tonight. Pleasure doin' business with you all."

Tucker closed his eyes and sighed, pleased at imagining taking a shower and sleeping in his own bed in a few hours.

They had just wanted to see family in Chicago. What a disaster.

The library was quiet when Angela Foley came in. That made sense, she worked weekday mornings, so they usually only saw adults and the rare preschooler. As much as she liked helping the spread of knowledge, it was nice not to have too much to do at the front desk. Maybe she could get a crossword puzzle or two done.

She had made it about halfway through the puzzle (Angela knew a lot of things, but wordplay was never her specialty. What on Earth was she supposed to get from "gift for a blue lady"?) before someone walked in, paused, and went straight for the front desk.

She put on her smile. "Hi! Can I help ya with anything?"

The man was tall, wearing a clean white button-up shirt and jeans. His brassy skin and black hair caught strangely in the fluorescent lights, turning almost orange at their edges. She was pretty sure he was a ghost in disguise, but she had helped ghosts before. Usually, if one was asking for help using a library, they weren't intent on doing anything violent.

Usually. She still reserved a little caution.

"Yes, I'm looking for information on a very distant place. Where might I find something like that?"

"Well, what place is it?"

"It's called An Aghaidh Mhòr."

Angela blinked at the unfamiliar sounds. "I'm not familiar. Is that... Gaelic?"

The man fiddled with his sleeves. "Scottish, I believe, yes."

"Alright." Angela stood up and moved toward the computer monitor at the desk by the door. "I'm going to check in our catalog for books on Scotland."

The man watched silently as she searched. Angela hummed. "It looks like, in house, the only books we have on Scotland are travel guides covering the whole of the UK or Europe. I don't expect they'd have many details on smaller places— well, I'm assuming An Aghaidh Mhòr is small, since I haven't heard of it. If you'd like, you can check anyway, or I can contact another library in the system, and they can send over some more specialized books, but that might take a few days."

The man said nothing, but his eyebrows furrowed in thought. Angela recognized the face of a person with a wide, potent array of bad options.

"Or, if you're more pressed for time, we do have a few computers and Internet access here. I can help you find some web sites that might have what you're looking for."

"And this wouldn't take any longer than looking through a book?"

Angela smiled and headed toward the public computers. "Faster, even, if you know what you're doing. I can help you if you've never done it before."

They began their search, and the man caught on quickly to what Angela was doing and how. She helped him for a while, long enough to find out that An Aghaidh Mhòr was a place in the woody North of Scotland, usually called Aviemore, and was something of a tourist destination. Beyond that, she left him to do his own research and went back to her crossword.

She just had a pesky few clues left when the man started muttering curses in another language and walked back over to her desk.

With panicked eyes, he said "I have to be honest. What I'm looking for is, ah… evidence that An Aghaidh Mhòr has an open community of ghosts alongside its humans. I'm certain that it once did, and I know that it still must. But I have chased every tail of information I could find that led to pages on the computer, and none of them, regardless of detail or experience with the town, has mentioned it."

He looked down and seemed to weigh something in his head. "It must be some sort of secret. Whether to protect the ghosts or to protect themselves from ridicule, the living people of An Aghaidh Mhòr have hidden their ghost society. You have to help me find it."

The little hairs on Angela's body all stood up. Warning bells were going off in her head. There was nothing to do but remain calm. "If that's the case, I don't know about anything like that. I can send out a question to my colleagues to see if they know anything, but I'm afraid I can't–"

"No!" The man swung out a hand, and the inner doors swung shut, silvery light weaving across them like fishing nets to keep them in place. The lights dimmed and his skin faded to a deep, fiery orange, layered and complex like agate. His eyes glowed like the moon. The few library guests gasped and looked at him in shock.

"You are a keeper of information, from a city with a striking connection to ghosts. I need to know the truth about ghostly An Aghaidh Mhòr, and you must help me find it." His silver eyes were full of fear, but Angela couldn't bring herself to care how the ghost who just trapped and threatened her was feeling.

She had to think fast to get out of this safely. Something to keep his hopes up…

"Fine. Fine." Angela held up her hands. "I'm not confident in my own grasp of the situation, but I do know of some secrets like the one you're talking about. It'll take some time– say, a couple hours– to put together anything meaningful, and I'll need to call in an expert, but I can do it. I will do it."

She could only hope her friends were any good at improv.

Maurice was never one for early mornings, but he always made the best of his hour alone after the kids went off to school and Angela's shift started. That was his time to make coffee and goof around. He could prance around the kitchen in ways that would make Tucker gag if he were there, and as long as he couldn't see his neighbors, he could put them out of mind enough to sing as loud as he wanted.

Before work was the blues hour. Today he put on Lucille. Whole album, on tape, from the top.

If anybody asked why he started his days with the blues, he'd probably say something about the sad lyrics reminding him how lucky he was. How no matter how embarrassing the family vacations or boring the work or sleazy the boss, he still had a clean house around him and a faithful wife beside him.

In reality, though, he mostly just liked the beat.

Once he got into work, it was just the same as ever. Double-entries and journalizing. He didn't even get to mix up which accounts he dealt with. VLADCO was too big for that. It was Accounts Receivable, 140-180, day after day.

But at least it wasn't IT.

Then, after almost an hour of swimming through "Axiom Labs, Ltd. $1,300 Debit" and "Hey, Maurice, how was the weekend?" and "Nugreen Ectosuppliers, LLC $400 Credit" and "You get that last letter? Crazy what Masters is trying these days, yeah?", everything went dark.

(Or, at least darker than usual. The grainy white of every surface in the office never lent itself to anything deeper than a cloudy grey.)

After a few seconds of quiet shock, the lights came back. Now, however, there was a ghost floating in front of the door connecting the Finances and Supplies department to the rest of the facility.

He seemed to be well-muscled and of average height, though it was hard to tell exactly what a ghost looked like when they were putting off that much of an aura. His skin was dark green and rough-looking, like bark, and there was a reddish halo around his head like some sort of spectral hair. His blood-moon eyes looked over everyone in the room individually before anyone dared speak. Finally, he opened his mouth.

"This is the center of a company that arms humans againsts ghosts and similar threats. Yes?"

Shocked, a few people nodded.

"And you are all from the department keeping stock of supplies. I do not know where your weapons are kept, but I know that you do. Someone in here will retrieve them for me. I need them, if I am to bring my people, ghosts and humans, together again."

The tension finally broke the membrane freezing time, and several office workers started to move for phones.

"Don't bother trying to get help. I have severed all the lines of communication between you and the world outside this office. I will leave you alone, as soon as someone leads me to the armory."

Maurice glanced at the little LCD display on the phone on his desk. No signal. His computer, too, had nothing when he clicked over to the Internet settings.

No one said anything. Some kept trying with their phones, but not a single person offered to explain how scant and useless the actual in-house ecto-equipment supply was or show the path to it. Maurice imagined they were all thinking the same thing he was; yes, complying was generally the way to stay safe in a hostage situation, and panic was strong, but a ghost coming into town and getting their hands on even just half-assembled ecto-equipment never went well. And, maybe even more importantly, VLADCO had terrifyingly strict regulations on safe ecto-tech policy. Unless the immediate threat of being personally hurt for information increased, the consequences in the long run were the biggest monster here.

The ghost crossed his arms. "Fine. You have one hour to bring me to the weapons. I can wait. I have waited this long. If you take any longer, or if you attempt any trickery, then I will start going through with threats. Until then, you may have your time to panic and fantasize about ways out that don't involve giving up company supply. I will be standing here."

He leaned against the door, and his gaze stayed rock-hard on the workers and their cubicles.

Maurice caught the eye of his most tolerable coworker Jacob. Jacob widened his eyes in some silent look of panicked questioning. Maurice shrugged. He was scared out of his mind, but what was there to do? Freaking out wouldn't do anybody any good. He could wait here and see if any ghost hunter showed up, and once they got closer to the end of the hour, everybody could meet up and decide if it was worth giving up the ecto-tech.

For now... well, he certainly wasn't going to do more accounting. This was as good an excuse for a break as any.

He toyed around on his computer for a bit, fidgeting with whatever programs he had. Maybe if the ghost noticed him, he could say he was looking for office schematics explaining where the ecto-tech was held. Really, he couldn't think to do anything but let off stress.

He played around in the rudimentary E-mail client for a bit. Mimed sending goofy messages to his coworkers while he knew he couldn't accidentally send them. But there, at the top of his inbox, was the automated morning office update. It had just come in four minutes ago... after the communications were shut off.

Was there some kind of hole in the ghost's anti-communication measure? The intercoms weren't working, and normal E-mails weren't going through, even within just Finances & Supplies. But the daily updates worked on a different system than the normal E-mails, so nobody had to send them at a consistent time each day, just queue them up.

...Was there something about the different setup that made it immune to the ghost's blackout?

Maurice got to investigating.

[cartondrws]

Ok so I just discovered all Snapcube's Sonic fandub and it's the best thing that happened to me lately. Like I rarely laughed that much in my life. All the crew has incredible improv skills and are stupidly funny. I've never played a Sonic game, have only watched a few Sonic related content, and it made everything even better.

I'm at a point when I see a real-time fandub I'm like: "Waiiit... I wanna do that too". So I'm looking up for nice pieces of media to dub on my own.

But here's an issue. I'm BAAAD at improvising. I guess it's like any other way to express creativity, like drawing. You gotta go fast grab a pen and start drawing. But I'm stuck in front the video I want to dub, because, unlike drawing, I can't go at my own pace, the video continues, and if I can't come up in time with something to say it's fucked up. It's also super hard to improv in english since it's not my native language. I cringe at what I made and get mentally stuck.

To you who have this kind of passion and went over the problem, do you have any advice, you did any exercice, what's your story about training your improv skills? I don't know where to start.

Also Happy New Year if it matters to you ( ._.)

[lal-ffxiv]

...

I shouldn't probably trust how I feel about things so close to 1am while listening to Bears in Trees after a long,long monday but I want to be open for rp. I want to follow up with people who show some interest. but I am so limited in my experience in collaborative write that I can't even be sure I'm a good at it. Like how to write a story that both of us want told and to read. and while I am write 'good enough' for myself I want to write something perfect for someone else. and I far to aware of my flaws as writer to be no anxious about writing with someone. Then like personal issues that maybe I'm not a good writing partner because I don't make sense or don't communicate enough or just I totally bore or annoy people. then there is life that what if I can't commit to schedule and I fail the other person if I can't consistently meet up. I am happy on this plateau writing my oc's stories, sharing the dozen of screenshots and just rambling on about them but is there something more that I'm missing if I close myself off to rp. I'm afraid of the learning curve, I'm afraid of feeling like burden while someone holds my hand as I learn a new style of writing. I want to avoid the feeling of comparison and inadequacy when learning something new. I know how to write good enough for me but are my characters even developed enough to thrown into situations that are going to require improvisation. I don't want too all talk and no walk, but I'm scared to talk to others about it until I can get over my anxiety on rping.