#i'm on a little hiatus but i'm working in the background

[swanettesims]

a quiet alley...

this will be available for download next week <3...

[pink-onyx-au]

Thanks for everyone's patience while I'm hiatus-ing! I wanted to make people aware of this, too. Since translations are on the way, but of course, not every language may get added, so if you have a translation app and need some clarity in the mean time:

The Image Description of pages are going to be updated with English text and some minor, literary tonal words. That way, anyone can run the text through an app.

Episode 1 will be the one with all the translations to see how they track. The ones that get more traction will get a bit more attention just for the sake of time.

Portuguese is on the way, and Episode 12 will be getting its line art soon. It'll be a 27-page episode, estimated as of right now, with new characters and new backgrounds, so a bit of extra work. I appreciate everyone and all their work towards making this little story better! Thank you! 🧡💕❤️

[uncouth-the-fifth]

good morning, charlie - Leon Kennedy/Reader

read it on Ao3.

Pairing: Agent!Leon/Detective!Wife!Reader Tags: domestic fluff with the tiniest dustings of background angst, married life, hugging, kissing, and snuggling. Words: 3k (yes, I'm capable of keeping something this short) Notes: read this in a WWE announcer voice: THAT'S RIGHT! UNCOUTH HAS COME CRASHING BACK INTO THE RING AFTER YET ANOTHER MONTHS-LONG HIATUS. i'm magical, truly. here is the first Leon fic I promised last month! There's so much I want to say about this little drabble, but I'll save that for my curious ppl on Ao3. this is going to be a big 180 from my spn content, and I sincerely hope that's okay with the public 😭 for my RE people: enjoy domestic Leon bullshit!

At two in the morning, Washington D.C. is pouring everything it has into crafting the coziest atmosphere of all time. A pleasant window-tapping storm had rolled in right around when you resolved to stay up working. Some late-night radio host is making soft, fizzing chatter in the next room, and coupled with a stellar view of the city from fancy floor-to-ceiling windows, you have a prime opportunity to pass the fuck out.

Unfortunately, you have made some spectacular life choices that don’t mix well with a full night’s rest. Nope, no sleep for you. Despite all of fate’s attempts to stop you from being a cop, (including throwing a city-wide outbreak at you on your first day), you are still here, gripping your job with both hands. At two in the damn morning.

Since scrubbing your eyes hadn’t woken you up the first five times you tried it, you give it another shot as you pace the length of your living room rug—from the coffee table you’ve stacked with files, then back to the whiteboard pasted top-to-bottom with pictures of missing young women. The whiteboard had been Leon’s idea. After the fourth time you’d transformed a flattened cardboard box into a morbid case-board for work, he’d cajoled you into letting him buy one for the apartment.

But I won’t be able to stab the tacks into it, you’d pouted.

Oh, the agony, your husband had drawled. He was a master of delivering a good, dry look.

You’d propped your fists on your hips and tried your best to look serious. The red yarn connecting everything isn’t just a detective-movie thing, y’know! It’s actually really useful. And I need my tacks to stick the yarn in—

Leon had cut cleanly through your building sass with another look, this time one glimmering with humor. Then I’ll get you magnetic ones, detective. Don’t you use whiteboards at the precinct anyway?

You’d grumbled. Because, yes, you did use whiteboards at the station, and they did have the little tacks with the magnets on the bottom. But you’d refused to deal with Leon being all smug (he was unbearable pretty when he was right), and had teased back instead, Whatever, nerd. Why don’t you and the other two angels go call Charlie already?

The reference had gone clean over Leon’s head. Of course, he hated being left out of a joke, so he’d roped you over by your wrist and pinched an explanation out of you until you were squealing with giggles.

Summarizing Charlie’s Angels to Leon had been a lot like offering a paper rocketship to an aerospace engineer. But, hey, picturing him running around in skimpy outfits and escaping action movie explosions on a motorcycle is a whole lot more fun than… than the real deal.

You don’t want to think about what his missions are really like. Not that you’re even allowed to know in the first place. Being Leon’s wife permits you a government-issued phone with his handler’s number, and on antsy days you can push Ingrid for details if you want. But after so long you’ve learned it only hurts both of you—for her, in the inability to answer, and for you, in the excruciating pain of being unable to know. Where is he? That’s classified.

She can’t always tell you when he’s coming home, either. So much of your life is hinged on her check-ins, and even more is forced to live off a simple, He’s okay.

For the seventh time, you scrub at your tired eyes and suck in a deep breath. You’d gotten that fabled text from Hunnigan—he’s okay—earlier today, and like always you crawled through the rest of your shift roiling with anticipation, waiting for Leon to materialize back into your life.

You force your gaze back to the whiteboard, littered with notes and pictures hung up with magnetic tacks. The faces of five missing women bore back. The ten-ton weight of your caseload slams down in full, and again, you scold yourself for floating back into comforting memories of your husband. These girls have lost all comfort in the world since they were taken. Your Captain gave you the responsibility of finding them, and after all you’ve been through, after all the other cases you’ve closed, there can’t be any room for failure. Think.

Your legs ache from being on your feet all day, chasing leads, but dropping into Leon’s armchair for even an instant will just have you nodding off again. More pacing it is, then. This is your pattern for the next half-hour: pace, re-read witness statements, turn, sip your coffee, pace, cross-reference alibis. He’s okay. Two of the girls were taken from Queen’s Chapel, two from Takoma, one from Woodridge. He’s fine. The last victim breaks the profile. What’s different about her? Why take her? Think think think— You know what Leon would do. He was the kind of person you could put in front of a problem, and no matter what he would find a way to shoulder his way through. With physical force, sure, but mental force too. He would sit and just look at the puzzle, and sheer willpower would lead him to some kind of answer. But you’d been pushing and pushing for days now, pursuing every lead, pressing every witness, yet nothing will give. The whole thing feels like a punching bag you’re beating at over and over again, knuckles raw and bloody—

Keys rattle just outside the front door.

First the big deadbolt scrapes open, unlatching with a heavy thud, and that sound alone is enough to shock you awake. More than any coffee could. Then comes the doorknob. Leon hasn’t even turned his key before you’ve twisted the lock open, yanked the door out of your way, and sent it whipping into the jamb with his keyring still swinging from its slot. You give him one full blink to register that it’s you before you’re throwing yourself on him without a single lick of shame, legs and all.

Of course, Leon bears your weight with grace. He grunts out an oof! when you come in for landing, and the living, breathing sound drains into one gruff laugh. You’re scooped up under the thighs and teddy bear squeezed against him. He reeks of cheap motel soap and something faintly coppery—then mint, a whole world of plush, wet spearmint when he nudges your face up with his nose and lays a hello kiss on you. The taste of his gum and the scratch of his stubble on your chin make your skin feel like it’s fizzing, inside-burning-out, every inch of you stood on end by his static charge. Jesus, this guy. He feels like fucking magic, and you’re confident that the laws of physics don’t quite apply around him. Everything in the room, in the too-big apartment that’s painfully empty without him in it, tilts toward Leon.

You shove your face nose-first into his neck and clutch the back of his jacket in both fists. Swallowing hard, you manage, “Hey, angel.”

“Good morning, Charlie,” Leon says.

If you had any resolve for today left in you at all, the wash of his sizzling butter voice would squash the last of it. You’d been trying to be sweet, but your husband has to be funny about fucking everything, of course. Even after weeks spent apart. You love him so fucking much.

“Don’t tell me you found time to watch that stupid movie.” Your voice is muffled by his coat, and you’re grateful for an excuse to hide.

You’re moving. Leon carries you inside, his wedding band pressing into your leg and his other big, warm hand spooned around your back. “Boring plane ride. I wanted to get your jokes.”

Your front door is toed shut, and with all the efficient maneuvering of a proper agent, Leon gets the place locked up behind you. Somewhere in all the commotion he’d dropped his go-bag by the welcome mat, and you hear the dramatic thunk, thunk, of his fancy work loafers being kicked off beside it. Only then does he slip you onto your own feet again.

Your hands slide down his arms as you make contact with the floor. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re aware that he’s damp from the rain, but that fact hangs in the little alternate universe he’s made in your front hall. Standing there and being able to look at him straight-on, Leon doesn’t feel real. It’s like your constant thoughts of him have manifested a ghost in his shape, mimicking the smiley rookie you remember.

He greets you with a quiet, beaten-down smile, and you understand immediately that the world has thrown its fair share of punches at him, too. You’ve both had a shit week. The Kennedy surname just brims with good luck, huh?

Your hands work on autopilot as you take him in, slipping under the fabric of his jacket and lingering over his thudding heart. His warm blue gaze swims over your face, and you can almost hear the clicking mechanisms in his head as he forces himself out of operative mode and into home mode by looking at you.

“It’s a really bad movie,” you say, choked up.

Leon’s jacket hits the floor with his shoes. There’s a swath of ugly, purpling bruises crawling up his bare arm, old enough to be greening at the edges, and your stomach churns when you see it.

He taps your chin up, pulling you away from the damage and back on him. His voice rolls over you like bourbon in a glass. “Absolutely. So-bad-it’s-good, even. We should watch it, make fun of it together. Like, why the hell does…”

Leon flawlessly falls into an analysis of the movie’s poorly-written espionage elements. The movie you made one offhand joke about several weeks ago, mind you. He’s pulling at straws, saying whatever the hell comes to mind to make you laugh, so exhausted he’s literally swaying on his feet. You can’t believe he’s trying to distract you with something so trivial, but this is your husband. One flash of that weary closed-mouth smile, one brush of those callused hands down your wrists, and your whole world resumes its orbit around him.

You laugh at the jokes he’s obviously crafted for your benefit, a weak chuckle your heart isn’t in. With his hands looped around your wrists, he guides your arms around his neck and welcomes you back into the toasty bubble of his touch. Leon’s even warmer from being tucked underneath his coat. Pure goodness and safety glows off him like a fucking nuclear reactor, and it dawns on you that you haven’t felt safe at all since he left. Anyone can be plucked off the streets here.

One more scratchy kiss and then he’s leading you deeper into your apartment. No one on Earth would believe that he’s a chatty guy, but he talks the whole way through. Too often he’s left to sit in his own mind on missions, and you’re treated to two week’s worth of his backlog in the next ten minutes. All the little things he wanted to say to you. The streams of smart-mouth commentary he was famous for at the academy are all inner monologue now, but you’re confident the Leon radio show still runs twenty four hours a day. He chatters so much in his head that it slips out of him like water sometimes—

“…that close to an explosion would disintegrate you, but fuck physics I guess—“ Leon interrupts his own flow of thought to squint at you. “Quit looking at me like that. It’s unfair how pretty you are when you’re tired. What was I—not like the laws of physics apply to that movie anyway, but…”

—and you’re stupidly charmed by it. He talks to comfort himself, and because the two of you are one unit, one person to him, he does the same for you.

With your hand tethered in his, he clicks off the radio in the kitchen. One of Leon’s side-stories replaces the random late-night station that’d been playing, floating over the din of the rain like bass over relaxing drums. He pours out the dregs of your coffee. He closes the files full of gruesome crime scene photos on your coffee table, and you watch, barely able to keep your head up, as he flips your whiteboard over to its blank side. You’ll get his second opinion on the case tomorrow.

Leon sweeps the place with you in tow, and once the security system’s armed and you’re almost sagging against him, the lights come off. Though you’ve had plenty of time to adjust to the Leon that returned home from training, you’ll never get used to the little alien ticks it’s given him. He navigates to your bedroom in complete blackness. He avoids the creaky floorboard just outside your door without seeing, deathly silent. The broad presence of him looms in the dark.

One wall of the bedroom is nothing but paneled glass, throwing a long square of dark blue moonlight over your rumpled comforter. While the view of the Potomac and Capital Hill is stellar from up here, you’ve always felt out of place among the things Leon’s generous salary has earned the two of you: a flat with a private elevator in the nice part of town, fresh-off-the-press sports cars, a getaway cabin up north. So much of it you end up enjoying by yourself. It only ever feels worth it when he’s here, smacking his elbow into the digital wall-panel that controls your A/C.

“—s’ supposed to be a touch screen,” he sidebars himself for the tenth time. Softer, Leon adds, “Brush your teeth. I’ll be right there.”

You rope your arms around his middle and press your face into the heart of his back, careful of the bruises he’s doing his best to hide. “Wanna wait for you.”

Leon doesn’t protest. There’s more little beeps as he screws with the temperature of your mattress or something, deciding, “We live in a damn spaceship. Are we too good for plain old-fashioned buttons now?”

Apparently you are, since old man Leon fails to figure out how to crank the heat up. You let him play with it for a little while longer (it’s not his fault he’s rarely home), and then intervene with a few quick taps when things get dire. The heater hums to life under the floor a beat later, and he turns in your grip to scoff, mystified by your vast and incredible knowledge.

“My smart girl,” he hums.

Just that is enough to chip off a piece of your strength. Had he said that to you over the phone, a million miles away in god-knows-where, your knees would buckle. He is the only one who talks to you like that—with so much simple, uncomplicated love. Too tired to put your thoughts into words, you flatten a hand over his heart and kiss the sun-freckled nape of his neck.

“Clingy,” Leon mutters. You’re pretty sure it’s supposed to sound dry and funny, another one of his jokes. But then he’s smoothing both of his palms down your arms in two long handsy swaths, and the gesture tells you everything about just how clingy he’s feeling, too.

His stories make getting ready for bed an even slower affair. You couldn’t mind if you wanted to. As you help him out of his starchy dress-shirt button by button, he surprises you with a rare explanation of where he’s been for the last weeks. The UK. Truly, your husband is the special secret agent to end all special secret agents: he talks around his job as if it was a bump he’d hit on the way home, entertaining you instead with his Leon-ified vision of London. Touristy as shit. Loud as shit. Smelled like shit.

“Just like DC,” he chuckles, and then a second time when your fluffy head pops through the collar of the sleep shirt he’s dressing you in.

It’s too much rough, cinnamon spice laughter for one woman to stand. You duck away to brush your teeth and groan into your palms like a schoolgirl over him, but sure enough, Leon trails you, fingers chasing the hem of your shirt (his shirt) in a sleepy daze. He always keeps you in view. Nervous, maybe, to have you out of his sight.

This tradition continues when the two of you crawl into bed. Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and so has your body, able to sense him on the stupidly expensive mattress beside you. He thinks you can’t tell, but his gaze roves over you again and again—down your back when you flop face-first into the plush bedding, over the slope of your shoulder when you wiggle under the covers. Leon draws you into the glorious halo of his body heat with a gentle hand on your belly. If you could bottle this feeling, the whole world would be sick and stupid for him in hours. Minutes even.

You feel so safe that the word doesn’t even come to mind. Just vague, peaceful shapes of things you know, home, sleep, cologne, cozy. His work-rough palm with his body-warm wedding band slips under your tee to sweep over your ribs. Then comes Leon’s face, just on the right side of stubbly as he shoves it between your shoulder blades without a single lick of shame. The breath he takes of you is so heavy that his whole frame shudders with it, top to bottom.

You remember how you’d burrowed into his jacket the second he got home and think, You are me and I am you. We’re always on the same page.

With that, the stage is set. DC’s faraway glittering cityscape lights up all the raindrops on your window, and you watch them run as the two of you melt into one another. Leon’s warm breaths slow across your neck. Time for you to deliver your line.

You wet your lips and murmur into your pillow, “Do you want to talk about your mission?”

Legally, he can’t say yes. Government secrets, bureaucracy, yadda yadda. Leon isn’t always emotionally ready to crack open a coffin he’s just finished sealing, either, but while it is his job to close your case files for the night, you’re his wife. You’re the only person who can knock on that door. With how little choice he has left in his life, you try to give him options whenever you can. Regardless, you know the man you married—strong-willed on a mythical fucking level, and just as self-sacrificing. He’ll always try to spare you.

Sure enough, Leon says, “Tomorrow. Do you want to talk about your case?”

You shake your head at him, exhausted to the point of dizziness. “Tomorrow.”

A tender kiss is pressed to the nape of your neck, and the whole world goes silent for the perfect, husky whisper you’ve ached to hear. You feel his wry smile against your skin. “We’re always on the same page, baby.”

[guardian-angle22]

maybe you’ve already done this but I would love to know your top underrated tarlos moments

Thank you for asking! I did make a set once for my favorite background moment. That set is here. I do like that one!

As far as underrated, I think that can be tough with a fandom like ours with as much hiatus time on our hands as we've had... because I think we've hyped up about every possible tarlos moment we possibly can. 🤭

HOWEVER, I can't leave you empty handed here. So! here are some of my Top Slightly-Maybe-Underrated Tarlos Moments:

Carlos Being at Owen's Remission Cake Celebration. Something about the exchange between TK & Carlos at the beginning of this scene just always strikes me. Carlos says, "It's cool your mom came down here for this." and TK says, "It's cool you did. Thanks for being here, babe." and something in his face after that exchange just says to me that he's not used to having a boyfriend show up for things like this. So it feels like a subtle but big moment for them!!

TK & Carlos Shopping at the Farmer's Market. There's something very domestic and sweet about the two of them walking through the farmer's market together swinging their tote bags, buying flowers, sniffing random plants, checking out the local jam offerings.

TK & Carlos Cuddling on the Couch. Much has been said about the cuddling specifically in this scene, the equal opportunity big/little spoon situation. but also I just love the thought of them doing this regularly: cuddling up in front of the TV at the end of their shifts, decompressing, and telling each other about their day and their struggles. encouraging each other. and then also cuddles.

Holding Hands at Owen's Intervention. The tone they kind of took this scene in with the music and editing made it seem less serious, but I feel like the situation would've been very stressful for TK (especially as someone who had been on the other side of an intervention before like he said) and I love the silent support Carlos offers here and the way he tucks his fingers into TK's sleeve.

TK Sleeping on Carlos as He Works. This probably isn't underrated but. it's one of my All Time Favorite Moments and therefore it makes this list. Here is a set I made for it awhile ago that I still really enjoy. The way TK tries to get Carlos to stop working in the middle of the night and when he realizes that's not going to work, he says okay. I'm gonna sleep right here and be with you then. He said I'm not going to sleep alone ever again if you're here so MAKE ROOM, BABY!

Carlos Keeping His Eyes on TK. not sure how else to describe it tbh, but just the way Carlos zeroes in on TK taking the phone call at the end of 3.07... it's like he always has a feeler out for what TK is doing at all times, even when surrounded by their friends. I truly wish we got to see the aftermath of that phone call. the way Carlos would've taken care of TK in that moment.

Scritchy Scratches. that's it. send tweet.

Soft!Dom Carlos Backing TK Up. listennnn this scene might be talked about a lot. but never enough. the gentle dom carlos of it all truly eats at my brain constantly. the way he backs TK up, reigns in his spiraling and calms him down with just a couple words and grip of the neck. I cannot.

TK Offering Carlos Back Rubs. another instance of TK waking up because Carlos isn't next to him. recognizing that Carlos needs comfort and offering to rub his back, like he's probably been doing for multiple nights now. it's just another sweet look into the way they comfort and support each other that might not get fully shown but is still there.

The Wedding Leg Grip. this is my Most Favorite of all the gifs I've made for the touch series. idk what it is about this particular gesture, but the way Carlos grabs TK's leg will forever be famous to me and we should be talking about it every week.

[clangenrising]

Hey guys.

It is with great shame that I think I must announce that I can no longer maintain my posting schedule and RisingClan needs to go on a tiny hiatus.

For some background, I've been struggling with work and mental health for a couple months now which culminated in a breakdown a few weeks ago after which my boss insisted I take some time off work to recover. In that time, I've been trying to catch up with RisingClan’s schedule, which I am very behind on, but this week I learned that I need to start packing to move out as well. And to top it all off, I'm in danger of losing my benefits and need to get that sorted out.

Multiple people have told me that if I need to put RisingClan on hold, I can, that my audience will understand, but I've been loathe to because doing so would mean abandoning the "In Real Time" gimmick that I was so proud of and I didn't want to compromise my vision in that way. Unfortunately, though, I have come to the realization that I can either force myself to write and damage my mental health further, write at my own pace and release updates far later than I wanted to hoping that doing so doesn't make the story too different from what I had hoped, OR I can put things on pause until my life isn't falling apart and then start writing again, albiet not in the way I wish I could.

I have decided to do the latter. I'm going to take a break from producing RisingClan content for at least a couple weeks, maybe a month or two, while I move and get my shit together. I'm also going to put Featured Follower Posts on hold. However, during that time I will continue to answer asks since that takes very little effort and I'd love to highlight any fan art if people feel like making any. When I feel I'm able, I'll start writing again and maybe eventually I'll be able to catch up to the current month and resume business as usual. I'm not going to push myself though.

I know you'll all understand but I want to thank you anyway and say I hope that you'll stick with me through this posting gap. The events that are coming up are things I'm really excited for and I hope you'll all be there to see them!

To my lovely patrons, I would appreciate your continued support but I understand if you feel the need to cancel your subscriptions even temporarily. Luckily, I already finished Leafbare's season illustration so that will be posted on time, as usual.

Thank you all. I couldn't do this without your support and I'm looking forward to getting back in the saddle soon.

♡ Rowan

[fettuccin-e]

As Long As I Want

so yeah i may have not posted a fic in two months and WHATABOUTIT no i'm kidding i'm really sorry for the little hiatus!! my pedro pascal obsession circa 2021 has relapsed and i'm terribly sorry lol so yeah pls enjoy this short little fic that is only about sucking frankie's dick

Tags: Frankie "Catfish" Morales x Reader, fem!reader, oral (m!recieving), size kink, deep throating, this is so nasty lol (w/c: 1.5K)

Francisco Morales is a pretty unassuming man. He’s tall and lumbering, but his patchy beard and ever-present baseball cap allow him to sink into the background of most things, which is exactly where he likes to be. He isn’t a standout, he knows that, and he’s plenty content with it. As long as you love him, he’s just fine.

And you do, god, you love him. You try to tell him constantly, try to express how fucking hot you find him, even if he shrugs you off with a shy chuckle and a blush on his scruffy cheeks. With his pretty dark eyes and soft hair, how he towers over you and how his broad chest presses against your back when he hugs you from behind, and when he fucks you from behind. Frankie is, by far, the sexiest man you’ve ever seen, and somehow, he’s yours.

And, as unassuming as he is, Frankie also has the fattest, biggest cock you’ve ever seen.

He hides it behind baggy jeans and boxers, but you pride yourself on being very, very familiar with it. It took the first six months of your relationship to take it all the way into your cunt, the thickness of it stretching you till you thought you were bound to break, the length of it bullying so deep you thought you would feel it in your fucking throat. Even now, four years later, you still need to be prepared thoroughly before taking Frankie, a process that he takes great joy in.

Frankie will spend hours between your thighs, sucking at your clit and fucking you open on his calloused fingers until you’re sobbing and shaking. He loves to pull your thighs apart when you try to close them, keeping you wide open and dripping for him. You beg for him to fuck you, that you’re ready, but Frankie also loves to ignore you, content to keep lapping at your twitching cunt, murmuring a, “quiet, princesa, I’m working.” You want to strangle him. 

You also love him so much that it hurts sometimes. 

He’s perfect, everything is perfect, except for the fact that, although he’ll spend an entire night eating your pussy like a man starved, he won’t let you return the favor. You can count the amount of times in four years that Francisco Morales has let you suck his cock on one hand, and you wouldn’t even use all of your fingers. Whenever you’re between his legs, working him between your lips, inch by thick inch, he always wrenches you off him with a grip in your hair, before he bends you over and fucks you until your pussy is gaping and your brain is mush.

But you know you’ve got him this time. His hands are bound with a silky scarf around the head board, the pinkness of his blush spreading down to his chest as he watches you with heavy eyes.

“Princesa, please, just- you can sit on my face, yeah? And do what you want to me, but baby, I just gotta...I gotta make you feel good, please?” he grunts with that deep voice of his, raspy and needy.

You kiss him softly as a reply, brushing a hand through his soft curls. “Frankie,” you whisper. “I want to suck your cock today. I told you that, baby, didn’t I?” Frankie nods tentatively. You grin at the way his lips part, big eyes watching you like you’ve hung the moon and stars, just for him. “Then you’re going to shut up and let me suck you as long as I want, you got that?”

Frankie nods again, and nearly whines when you pull away from his face, brushing your lips down, down. You lick over the softness of his stomach, around where his cock, throbbing and red and dripping, lays against it. You avoid sucking the sticky tip into your mouth right away, instead moving lower to bite at his quivering thighs. You can hear Frankie’s breaths growing louder, desperate for your touch. 

“Please, mi vida,” he whimpers, hips bucking up ever so slightly. His cheeks burn at the sound of his own desperation, but when you smile at him, almost shyly, at his words, it almost becomes worth it.

“Okay, Frankie,” you whisper, and he gasps when you move back up his body, ever so slightly, to lick hungrily over the length of his cock, moaning at the taste.

He groans deep in his throat at the feeling of your hot tongue trailing over the veins and crevices of him, memorizing every thick, throbbing inch. You make your way up until you reach the tip, and, with one final glance at Frankie, his pupils blown wide as he meets your gaze, you close your plush lips around the tip.

Frankie’s back arches, just a bit, off the bed when you suck hard on the tip of his cock, tongue dipping into the slit as you swallow everything he has to give. “Ah- oh God, oh God, por favor, baby,” he whines, not even knowing what he’s begging for from you.

But you know, you always know. 

You can’t exactly smile around Frankie’s cock, not with your mouth stretched as wide as it is around the girth of him, but it’s a near thing. You slide down the length of him, tongue running along every new inch you let into your pretty mouth, watching as Frankie’s eyes roll into the back of his head, soft stomach heaving with every labored breath.

You brace yourself with your nails digging into his thighs as you push down even further, the tip of him finally budging into the back of your throat, and though you try to swallow around it, you can’t help but gag a little.

Frankie’s eyes snap open at the feeling and sound, his body going suddenly still. “Baby, do you need to stop? Fuck, you can stop if it’s too much, we can just-” You shake your head gently, not daring to slide him out of your mouth just yet. “Okay, okay, mi vida,” he breathes. “Just, please, I don’t want to hurt you.”

You could never, you want to say, but your mouth is far too preoccupied. Instead, you push just a little further, shoving him just another inch into your drooling mouth.

Frankie never lets you do this, never lets you have your fill, and you’re drunk off the taste of him, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the tip lodges in the back of your throat. And even as it does, even as his fat cockhead makes you choke, you keep sinking down.

He slides deep into the length of your throat, forcing you to breathe through your nose. Your eyes are watering at the stretch of him, your nails digging little indents into his hairy thighs. You fucking love it.

Frankie loves it too, evidently. With every inch, he whines, crying your name in stuttered gasps. You just keep moving, bobbing your head up and down just slightly to get more and more of him in, until you finally, finally, reach the thick base of his cock, the wiry hairs tickling your nose.

“Oh God, fuck princesa, you’re so perfect. Shit, your mouth is so good, you- you’re so good to me, baby, oh fuck, no one’s ever gotten this far, I-I-” he gasps, head thrown back and eyes clenched shut.

Oh. Your head feels like it’s underwater, delirious with the fact that you’re the only one to ever do this for Frankie. The only one that can do this for him.

You gaze up at him, entranced by his sweat-slicked, heaving body, pretty and needy. He blinks his eyes open, looking down at you when you stop moving, utterly still with his cock buried deep inside your throat. You, all pretty with your cheeks flushed and eyes watery, lips stretched wide and sticky and utterly obscene. You gaze back, your stare unrelenting, and suddenly swallow hard around the entire length of him.

Frankie nearly screams at the feeling, completely unreal and new. “Ah- ah!”

And you just keep doing it, bobbing slightly while you milk him with your hot, wet throat. Overwhelmed tears are leaking down Frankie’s face, his hips hitching up just barely to meet the minute movements of your head.

“I- Princesa, I’m gonna- I can’t hold it, ‘m sorry, can’t- it’s so good, too good mi vida, I-”

Frankie tries to pull his hips back, but you hold yourself onto him, keeping him buried within you as he spills hot, sticky cum down your throat.

You keep sucking him, milking him as the last dregs of his orgasm die away, before finally pulling yourself off him.

“Good?” you whisper, you voice sounding raspy and fucking used.

Frankie’s eyes widen in shock. “Good? Holy fucking shit, baby,” he mutters, head thrown back to look up at the ceiling, as if to ask God is she being fucking serious right now?

“You untie me, right fucking now, princesa. I’ll show you how ‘good’ that was. Until you pass the fuck out.”

[deoidesign]

Happy webcomics day!!!

I'm not home (on a trip right now with family), but I still want to talk a little bit about my process, so I did what I could to find some wip shots 🧡

Plus, I'd also like to update my extremely patient readers with a little taste of what's to come!!!

Step one, of course, is writing.

When I'm writing I have four documents open. A "dump" document, a "yes this!" Document, an outline document, and a drawing canvas!

In the dump document, I put ANYTHING. complete stream of consciousness. The 'yes this' document is where I put anything useful from the dump document, and the outline is, of course, the outline. The drawing canvas is for me to sketch out problems and ideas and get sort of a different angle on things, since I can't really visualize.

Once I have a book completely written, I start thumbnailing!

My thumbnails pretty much look like this. Text, sketchy poses, indications of expression and maybe environment...

I thumbnail the entire book at once. I don't let myself do any edits on it until it's done, but I take note of edits I'd like to make! Then, once the first draft is out, I edit.

I'll move entire scenes, delete whole episodes, bring in bits from the end to have proper foreshadowing... Etc! It's a long process that makes my arcs feel much more complete and something I can be really proud of.

I can only do this when I'm really ahead, though, so that's why I've been on a long hiatus!!! I was forced to work without my process for a few arcs, and the difference is so huge to me that I refuse to let myself do it again. It makes a loner hiatus, but work way more worth waiting for!

Next step is lineart!

Yes, I skip sketches! I go right into lines.

I save every head I've ever drawn, and that lets me copy paste in a basic head angle. Then I redo the face, fix up the hair, etc. so it fits my panel, and then I draw the rest of the body!

This seriously saves me so much time, but less so for the drawing (i still draw a ton of heads and I'm very fast) and more just for helping me skip sketching entirely!

Then I do character flats, which since all my lines are closed that goes pretty quickly (slowest part is Steve's hair, I refuse to use a brush cause every one I've made looks terrible!!!)

And then I draw the backgrounds!

Which, I keep layered, clean, and HUGE so I can use them throughout the arc.

I used to feel bad doing this, but then I realized... It's not like backgrounds "change" irl. So why make them change in my comics...? It saves me so much time, but it ALSO lets me put in more detail per background! I draw probably 3 very large backgrounds per episode like this, and then I draw maybe 5-10 unique backgrounds for single panels per episode as well. I save these too, but they're rarely re-used.

And then my panels are done!!!

So there's a bit of my process for you all!!!

Happy webcomics day 🧡🧡🧡

And here's my comic, if you haven't read it and want to see the end result of this process, or if you have read it and would enjoy a re-read with the extra knowledge:

Or, if you would prefer books I have those too!

Happy to elaborate on any step, as well!

I make comics extremely quickly and as my full time job, and my process allows me to easily manipulate my format as well. I'm happy to share any of my knowledge if you have questions!!!

[moonblastbitch]

Yellow card update

Hi ya'll! So I barely use tumblr nowadays, but considering some stuff going on I thought it would be good to do a quick little come back.

So hi! I'm Kit, I write the griddlehark fic Yellow Card with my friend Starr. It's a very silly fanfiction about age difference Harrow and Gideon having an affair and raising a child together. It's pretty well known in TLT fan spaces which I'm super grateful for! It's not an understatement to call this little fic my pride and joy. I've spent the last two years working on it as my little labor of love and it's kinda grown a cult of followers! Really, it's a fun excuse for me and my friend to work on something we care about together. But lately I haven't felt inclined to work on it and I want to talk about why.

Over the last several months I've had some health stuff going on that's resulted in needing two surgeries. Along with that, I moved into a new place and my gf and I are managing some new financial stress. Plus, you know, the general state of democracy in decay all around the world. It doesn't leave me a lot of time or energy to write silly smut fic. Everyone has been very supportive of me taking the time I need to recover and I'm really grateful.

But... this is where I have to address some not great stuff. Today my friend approached me with a fanfiction making fun of my writing. And several posts from someone making fun of the tropes I use in the writing. Now, I want to make this abundantly clear. Absolutely no one is required to like my writing style or fics. I don't write for praise or wealth, just for my own personal happiness. I think everyone is within their right to complain to their friends if they dislike something they read. What I really can't tolerate however is this intense hostility toward myself or my fellow writers. Nor do I appreciate having an entire fic written mocking me or my stylistic choices.

Back when I first joined the TLT fandom in 2020 it was teeny tiny. Now it's a lot less so. It's been so satisfying to see everyone grow and change over the years, and I think I've grown a lot as a writer. Sadly though, I've seen a lot of stupid bullshit. I've seen personal friends of mine targeted in harassment campaigns because they ship the wrong ship. I've been added to public bookmarks complaining about my writing, I've been subtweeted, I've been made fun of. And I think I'm done.

I write for my own pleasure. I write to bond with my friends. I am not writing for homophobic assholes who use my work to mock me, nor make me or my co-writer the target of harassment. So, as a result, Yellow Card and all my other TLT fics are on an immidate hiatus, with the exception of one upcoming commission for the TLT for Palestine charity.

I spent a long time tonight debating if I should even write this post. It seems like by writing this I'd be giving the people making fun of me more ammo. But honestly? I don't care. My feelings are hurt. I am upset. I shouldn't have to hide that because some bullies will take bits of this statement to use in their next bitchy text post.

I want to reiterate something important. I am open to critque on my work. Anyone who has an issue with my writing style is more than welcome to come into my comments and let me know if something isn't flowing right, if there are unfortunate implications of a line I may not have considered, if there is something they personally find a bit distasteful. Sadly, the people doing this skipped right to mockery and ridicule, and that is unacceptable.

What drew me to this fandom in the first place was Muir's openness to her background in fanworks. She clearly takes such pride knowing her book series has spawned into a wild, happy fandom writing crack silliness and serious character study alike. Because that is what fandom is for. Having fun in a big beautiful sandbox, creating art with friends. And I treasure that deeply, even as I am forced to walk away from a space I love.

TLDR: TLT fandom is full of dicks. And not the kind I write about.

Thank you to everyone whose offered me kindness and support over the years! I truly appreciate you all. If you wanna stay in contact, it's easiest to find me over on twitter @moonblastbitch or discord (same name)

[stackslip]

CAN YOU ELABORATE ON TLT BEING A HOMESTUCK FANFIC‽‽‽‽‽

i'm exaggerating a bit, but taz muir was a well known homestuck writer who wrote under the username urbanAnchorite. her fic the serendipity gospels is one of my fave fics ever, but was never finished and it's only by book 2 of tlt that i figured that the clear allusions to it in book 1 weren't just cute little nods but that she'd expanded on some of the ideas/concepts and worldbuilding of the serendipity gospels. to name a few:

the ninth house cult is heavily based on the juggalo church muir wrote/expanded upon in TSG, from face paint to the rituals and a lot of the accompanying prose

act 2 of TSG takes place mainly in a spaceship that serves as "cathedral" of the juggalo cult, and is described to be covered in bones that have been painted in many colors--which is close to the description of the mithraeum

act 2 also features the two main characters being much younger people mentored/manipulated into horrible acts by an old man who is thousands of years old and bickering with his other thousand year old friends/enemies, who seem to share knowledge and understanding that neither the two protagonists do but also deeply resent one another. hard to not read a parallel to john and the lyctors here!

to elaborate on this bc i just realized it: it is heavily implied in TSG that the dancestors (older people thousands of years old) went through a universe reset and built the empire in the image of their own trauma and anger, which would v much parallel what happens to john on earth and how he "reset" humanity

less of a homestuck thing and more of a taz muir thing: said old man is v much grooming the main female character and making her life miserable during the entirety of act 2

a lot of the story takes place in the background of the trolls' empire being a horrific imperialist force that the main characters were originally very excited to join and become a part of, with one of these characters in particular daydreaming about becoming ground troop for invasion while also holding a terrible secret that would have precluded him of doing so anyway. p neat parallel to gideon's own thing here

act 1 and act 2 of TSG are from two different pov characters, with a drastic shift in prose style and understanding of the situation/world when the pov shifts. which v much echoes how tlt has worked so far. part 3 was barely started before it went on hiatus, but it followed the same pattern.

speaking of, the prose of act 2 of TSG definitely feels very close to harrow the ninth's prose. you can just open the fic and check the first chapter of act 2 and how it's written, and you'll see what i mean. there are differences--the prose of TSG act 2 is more inflected with southern usamerican evangelical speak, i think? i'm not american so i can't quite 200% tell

there is an external armed resistance to the empire's violent imperialism and resistance that was supposed to be the focus in act 3 of TSG, which never happened. nona the ninth did, though, and it follows that structure.

there are also eldritch horrors that threaten the entire universe--homestuck's own horrorterrors--that are in the background of TSG and implied to be an important part of the future plot that we never saw. tlt has the ressurrection beasts

taz muir's worldbuilding around the blood castes in og homestuck that she elaborates on in TSG also somewhat parallels the way the houses function in tlt

iirc there's also worldbuilding around space travel in tlt (such as the obelisks? i think that's the name? and the use of necromancy to power them) that parallels taz muir's own take on how space travel works in the troll empire, using psionics and draining them dry in a similar way

i think the necro-cav relationship 'ideal' is based around how taz also interpreted moirallegiance in not just TSG but all her homestuck fics, down to how its legal implementation and the idealization of it vs its role in troll/houses imperialism and the reality of blurred lines in "expected" relationships. i'd love to hear taz's discourse on troll romance

i also think the necro-cav relationship parallels the other legal pairing explored in TSG--legislacerator and subjugglator.

there are probably more parallels i am missing--i need to reread TSG soon, as i haven't in a while. there are elements i'd say are more like, how taz herself elaborated on the bones of the worldbuilding of homestuck and then made it her own thing, which is rad as hell. other elements are more fun nods, such as gideon's aviator glasses being shamelessly stolen from dave homestuck, and a lot of gtn's prose feeling very homestuckey. it's def not like, just a little rewrite and boom, you get the locked tomb! imo it's more elements of plot and worldbuilding that were interesting enough to develop into something of its own and that taz made into something new, along with other elements of other stories (such as lolita and umineko) being woven into it. part of why i enjoy tlt so much is its "collage" aspect, taking elements taz thought interesting in other stories, or using these elements to purposefully evoke specific feelings/moods to construct or obsfucate certain ideas.

[sweetlittlegingy]

Mr. Lieutenant Sir

☑︎ Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Sweet Nothings Masterlist

☑︎ Pairing: Jake Seresin x Y/n Seresin (Mitchell)

☑︎ Word Count: 5.9 K

☑︎ Warnings: Infertility, IVF, Adoption, Dad!Jake, Teacher/Mom!Reader, Kindergarteners, bad foster parents, child neglect, flirty Javy, protective Jake

☑︎ A/n: Never believe that I'm actually on hiatus, I finished this two days ago. Suprise

☑︎ Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

A giggle leaves your lips as a pair of arms wrap around your waist and pull you away from the pile of dishes soaking in the water. The record player quietly plays in the background, and the lack of noise from the living room is a clear indication that Javy either went home without saying goodbye or he’s fallen asleep on the couch. The latter most likely, given how he never leaves without a hug and goodbye.

“Javy fall asleep?”

You get a hum in response, though it’s muffled against your neck as Jake gently kisses along the curve of it. With a shrug of your shoulder, Jake lifts his face and allows you to turn around and face him. You lean against the countertop, while your hands wrap around Jake’s neck and run through the hair at the base.

“Remember when you told me that for share time, Gray couldn’t stop talking about a model airplane he had?”

Your head gently nods as you enjoy the close moment with your husband. Mrs. Adam had gone out and bought little model planes for both twins when she saw the shirts that Jake had picked out. It was the sweetest thing, and you were so thankful that she not only cared but supported you and Jake every time you showed up with something for the twins.

“Well, I talked to your dad last week and asked about the possibility of the class coming to the base for a field trip.” Your hands stop and a smile graces your face, eyebrow popping up in the way of saying ‘oh really.’ “I didn’t want to tell you until I got a yes, but Mav told me tonight that Cyclone gave him the go-ahead.”

“Really?!” Your smile slowly grows, and your mind is already spinning up a plan of how to make everything happen. “The kids would love that, all of them. Of course, I’ll need to send out permission slips and a Friday would probably work be–”

“Sweet Girl, slow down.” The words cut off your ramble. While Jake rubs at your arms in a comforting fashion. “We have time baby; we will work it all out.”

You nod, but your smile remains the same. Since you started teaching you had always thought that it would be fun to take the kids on a field trip to Top Gun. Though the opportunity had never arisen, especially during the first couple of years. You were a new teacher and still wary of your abilities in handling 20 5-year-olds off school grounds. Now, you were more than confident that you could handle it, especially with the parents you knew would be volunteering. Your excitement may have also stemmed from how much you knew that the twins would enjoy themselves.

...

“Eyes on me and clap three times, my little darlings!” Your voice echoes over the busy classroom, though at the request 20 little faces turn to you and clap or snap like you requested. “Very good! Now before you go home today, please give me your permission slips for our field trip this Friday. If you do not have them, come and talk to me.”

Your eyes scan through the classroom, each of your kids happily smiling while they take their permission slips from their go-home folder. Though your eyes eventually settle on Grayson and Madelaine. The pair of them sit quietly together, neither of them moving to take out a permission slip.

They had been oddly quiet all day, Gray was normally quiet though he always talked with you and Laine. While Laine was your little chatterbox in class who talked to everyone, though today neither of them said more than they were requested to. It had been eating away at you since you noticed it this morning and you had hoped that by this afternoon it would be better. Though as you look at them now, it only appears to have gotten worse.

The ringing of the bell pulls your attention back and has you focusing on the whole class again. A small line forms in front of you and your teaching aid Melissa, each of the kids waiting to hand you their signed slip. You give each of them a smile as they walk past and hand you their slip while following Melissa out to the pickup area. You count as they go past and as the last child in line goes out the door, your head pops up after only counting 18 heads.

Your eyes immediately find the twins, who are slowly putting their books away and looking as if going home was the last thing that they wanted to do.

You glance out to the hallway, checking to see if Melissa was going to come to tell you that Janice had actually shown up. Though the hallway is empty, clearly meaning she hadn’t arrived yet. Not worrying about the incompetent woman, you head over to the twins hoping to find out what has been eating away at them all day.

“Hello, my little munchkins.” Your voice gets their attention and Gray gives you a small smile, while Laine looks at you in defeat. You crouch down beside the desks, leaning over to fix the new glasses on Gray’s nose. “What’s going on? Why are my two favorite people so blue?”

You wait for the sassy comeback, though you don’t get one and a frown settles on your face. You rise from them and head back over to your desk, while they both silently watch you.

“I was saving this for a special day, and I think that today is that day.”

You rummage around the desk drawer until you find it. Usually, you would have Mrs. Adams give the children things that you had found for them, but last month you had found an antique children’s book that was in near-perfect condition and knew you had to buy it. The pair excelled in reading, and you knew that they would love to have a book of their own, instead of checking them out from the library.

You turn back around with the leather-bound book, only to find both Gray and Laine leaning over their desk trying to get a closer look. You give them both a smile, before placing the book down on Gray’s desk.

“I found this and knew how much you both enjoyed reading. I thought that it might be special for you, to have your own book that can take you on adventures and to different worlds anytime you want.”

The both of them smile happily, though as Madelaine opens it a small frown settles on her face. She looked toward Grayson who had yet to touch the book and now sported a small glare. Her eyes look towards you and your heartaches at the pain swimming in the baby blue.

“Can you keep it safe for us Ms. Cece?”

Your brow furrows in question, though before you can comment Gray speaks up.

“I got in trouble after my glasses got broken, I didn’t mean to run into things, but it just happened.” His voice is small, and you can barely hear him over the pounding in your head. You were positive that they were talking about Janice and her husband, but your mind was still reeling over the revelation.

“That’s why we don’t get to go see Mr. Jake and his plane.” Laine huffs as she says it and the way she crosses her arms would have made you giggle in any different situation. “They took everything as punishment, even our little model planes.”

It was like everything around you had turned off, and all you could think or see was the twins crying. The pair of them getting in trouble for things that aren’t their fault and how Janice and her husband shouldn’t have foster children at all. It didn’t matter whether they had the twins or any other children, you would be just as mad. They had no right to treat innocent children so harshly. It wasn’t just what you had found out today, it was the buildup of information you had learned over the last 4 months, and you had finally reached your breaking point.

Madelaine’s small sniffle pulls you from your thoughts and the sight before you almost break you completely. You were used to Laine comforting Gray; being the protector out of the two of them. Though now it’s Gray that holds onto Laine’s hands while resting their heads against one another. He doesn’t say anything, but just holds her and provides the safe space they’ve always had. The proximity of one another, their other half that made them whole.

Before you can think better of it, you lean forward to hold the pair. The sniffles subside momentarily as they both look up at you, before crawling into your lap. They both cling onto a shoulder as you whisper sweet nothings and rock them side to side.

“I’m going to fix it, okay?” Gray nods, while Laine clutches on tighter to you. “It’s gonna be okay.” You mutter the words and this time you’re not sure if you’re saying them for the twins or for yourself. The silver lining of your eyes breaks and a few stray tears fall, though you’re quick to wipe them away. You didn’t want either of them to see you cry, the both of them needed a solid, strong pillar to clutch onto in their storm-filled lives.

...

Jake hadn’t made it home yet, and you couldn’t seem to relax. You had been on the move since you had gotten home, tidying up the house, cooking dinner, and starting a batch of laundry, all to avoid the pending conversation that would no doubt be confrontational.

Janice had arrived just as you were taking the twins out, the three of you had stopped crying and knew that someone would be arriving soon. You had asked Janice if you could give her a call tonight, not wanting to have the conversation in front of the twins, and she bitterly told you that you could. Yet here you were, avoiding it. The last conversation you had with the woman ended with you in tears and you could only imagine how this one would go.

You glance at the clock and find that it’s just after 5, Jake would be home around 5:30 and you wanted to be off the phone by the time he arrived. Jake had been more than vocal about the langue lashing he wanted to give them, and you knew if he had the chance, he would jump on it faster than you could blink.

You settle against the kitchen counter, forgoing the idea of sitting, you were high-strung, and staying in one place wasn’t going to happen. You finger ghosts along your contact list until you find Janice’s name, and the small note of foster mom makes you sneer. The line rings quietly, but also as if it was a blaring alarm until there’s a click in the line, followed by a loud what.

“Hello Mrs. Williams, this is Y/n Seresin, the twin’s teacher.”

Your fingers drum against the counter as you wait for a reply, though the only thing she gives you is a hum. Your hand rakes through your hair as you push off the counter and start pacing.

“I was hoping to talk with you about the twins if that’s okay?” The words are barely passed your lips, before Janice cuts in.

“What did they do now?”

Her voice holds such disgust and animosity that it stuns you for a moment and causes you to take a few deep breaths.

“Nothing, they are wonderful in class. I was actually calling about our school field trip this coming Friday.”

 “Oh, so they came to you whining about not going, is that it?”

Her voice echoes through that phone and stuns you momentarily. Though when you hear her yelling the twin’s names, you’re quick to cut in.

“No, they didn’t say anything.” Your tone comes out harsher than you intended, though it does get Janice to stop yelling at or for the twins. “I noticed that they lacked a permission slip and wanted to reach out.”

You fear that the line has gone dead momentarily because the only sound you can hear is your own breathing. You pull the phone from your face and glance at it, to see that it is still on the call.

“Well, this Friday we are going out of town and even if we were in town, I’m not going to come chaperone. Not to mention, you are asking for 15 dollars for shirts. What do they need shirts for?”

You hear the door close and you glace to your side to find a smiling Jake. Though his face falls as he takes in your flustered appearance. You hold a finger up to your lips to stop him from talking, you couldn’t multitask right now.

“I really do think that this would be a great learning opportunity for Madelaine and Grayson.” Jake settles against the counter next to you, as he listens understanding who is on the other line without you having to say. “I don’t think that they should miss out on the experience, ma’am.”

“Listen here, unless you’re going to fork up the 30 dollars and be legally liable for them, not only Friday but the whole weekend, you need to shut up and mind your own business.”

You’re startled at her harsh words and your hate for the twins living situation only grows the more you talk to the woman. Though before you can reply, the phone is taken from your hand by a very mad Jake. Your eyes widen in worry, though he gives you a small smile that is in no way reassuring.

“Hello, ma’am. This is Lieutenant Commander Jake Seresin, I’ve heard that you have a few issues with the field trip my wife has planned.” You can’t hear exactly what Janice replies, though you know that it’s not what Jake deems acceptable to hear. You silently watch Jake, though his eyes don’t move toward you once. They remain in a harsh glare, facing the back wall of the kitchen. “Ma’am, I understand that you don’t want to pay the fe–”

Your eyes widen when you hear Janice’s voice echo through the phone. There weren’t main people that cut off Jake and the ridged body language, followed by the small click of his tongue is a clear sign of how little it happened. You would have laughed at how much she screwed up, but you can’t stop the way you grab onto Jake’s hand. Your fingers intertwine to get his attention, and your gaze silently pleads him not to go off on her. You didn’t know what the woman was capable of, and you were already afraid that this conversation would lead her to punish the twins.

“Ma’am, if you would’ve been so kind to not interrupt me, you would have known that I will pay for Grayson and Madelaine. I just need you to sign the paper so that they can go.”

Her voice lowers through the phone, and you catch a word every now and again, as you watch Jake toed boot tap away on your hardwood floors.

“They’re going to be in the safest setting that they have, probably ever been in. Not only will my wife and the other parents be watching them, but I will personally be watching them. So don’t tell me that your reluctance is because you are worried about them. I know what type of living situation you’re providing for them, and it sure as hell isn’t safe in any way, shape, or form.”

...

Jake couldn’t even lie and say that he hadn’t meant for his tone to come off harsh. No, he wanted Janice to realize just how pissed off he was. Pushing off the counter, he couldn’t help but pace, it had always helped him calm down growing up. The feeling of your hand loosening in his hold pulls his attention back to you. Taking a step closer to you, he barely listens to the squawking echoing in his ear and tightens his hold on you before lifting the back of your hand to place a gentle kiss on it. Your eyes watch him wearily before they soften, and your own lips meet the back of his hand.

“Look I don’t care what you think about my parenting.” The words pull Jake’s attention back to the conversation at hand. “I don’t care if the little shits go or not, even if it’s going to be a ‘great experience’. If you want to take them so damn bad, then do it. But I’m not paying for them, and you’ll have to figure out what to do with them for the weekend because we won’t be home.”

The harsh sigh that leaves Jake’s lips isn’t other than that; a smack in the face that the kid's wellbeing meant nothing to their foster parents, and that Jake didn’t know if he could fix it.

“Just sign the permission slip.”

He doesn’t know what else to say and doesn’t leave room for Janice to reply before he hangs up.

...

Jake settles the phone on the kitchen counter, before looking back up at you. Your hands are still intertwined while you cradle them in your lap. A sigh leaves the both of your lips, and a deep ache settles in your chest as Jake pulls you to him. Folding your form into his chest as he places a gentle kiss upon the crown of your head. How were you supposed to take the class on a field trip without the twins, it wasn’t fair.

“You think Mrs. Adams could keep a secret?” The words are whispered into your hair and cause you to pull back from Jake in question. “I mean we need to have a reliable witness for when we sign an agreement to take care of the kids for the weekend. I don’t know if it’s internally legal, but neither is Janice leaving the kids at the house alone.”

“Jacob Seresin, what in the world are you talking about?”

The cocky smirk you fell in love with settles on his lips and has you smiling in reaction, the ache in your chest easing slightly at the idea Jake is suggesting.

“The twins are going on the field trip and then staying with us.” A harsh sigh leaves his lips, and his smirk settles into a harsh line. “I won’t let her ruin this for them.”

Your heart blooms in love, once again left to wonder how you got such a loving and loyal man. Your hand slips from his and rises up to cup his cheek, as your thumb works across the frown.

“I love you.” Jake’s eyes fall on you at the comment, though no smiles are passed between the two of you. Your eyes say enough, together you would jump headfirst into the unknown. “I love you so damn much.”

...

“Javy, honey I love you.” Your eyes look to the pilot, who stands behind your husband while occasionally making flirty eyes with Ms. Reynolds. “But why are you here?”

Janice was supposed you come in today and sign the form stating that you and Jake would be legally in charge of the twins for the weekends, as well as be liable if something happened to them. Mrs. Adams had been easy to convince, going as far as to draft up the paperwork herself. It might not have been “law binding” but it sure did look like something a lawyer would draft up.

“Well Jake told me that he needed back up,” Your husband's eyes flash back over his shoulder and look at Javy in bewilderment. “this Janice lady scares him.”

The words cause you and Mrs. Adams to giggle, but it's Jake muttering that Javy only wanted to see Ms. Reynolds that has the pair of you cackling. The harsh knock against the door has all of your eyes fleeting to Mrs. Adams' office entry, the laughter in you quickly dies down as Janice and Ed Williams glare at the five of you. They each carry a small pack that resembles the totes you had bought the twins at the beginning of fall, though the dirt on them makes you question if they're the same ones.

“Well, aren't you all just peppy.”  The pair of them drop the bags harshly, and the sneer that Janice gives you makes you shrink back slightly into Jake. You weren’t normally scared so easily, but the pair of them made you uneasy. Their eyes hadn’t left you, even when they addressed Mrs. Adams. Though as an arm wraps around your waist, your shoulders drop and relax further into Jake.

“Right, shall we get this finished up? Lunch will be over soon, and Melissa can only fill in so long.”

Mrs. Adams gives you a small smile that has you giggling. You loved Melissa dearly and she was one of the sweet people you had ever met, though the kids also knew how much of a pushover she was and often conned her into playing Heads Up, Seven Up.

“Yeah, we need to get on the road,” Ed answers Mrs. Adams gruffly as he steps forward to snatch the pen off the desk and sign without any other conversation. The topic of them getting on the road doesn’t go unnoticed, but you keep your questions to yourself for the time being.

Janice grabs the pen from Ed, and the smack of her gum has you glaring slightly. Her signature is messy and hardly legible.

“Which of you five are signing?” Janice flicks the pen out, scanning the room with it before flicking it into your open palm. You give her a small smile and thank you, though she only sneers in reply.

Your eyes flitter from Janice and Ed and back to Jake, who gives you a reassuring smile and a gentle squeeze. You move to sign the document, as Jake steps out from around you and you can hear him introduce himself. From the corner of your eye, you can see Jake’s hand clasping Ed’s in a handshake and the tight grasp Jake has on Ed is anything up-friendly.

Jake lets go only to slide in behind you and gently takes the pen, as a gentle hand settles on your back before signing. The both of you finish and the weight in your chest seems to lift as Mrs. Adams then signs as a witness and gives you a small wink and smile that makes your own grow.

It felt different, the document signed was so much more than just the twins getting to go to Top Gun. It felt as though something deeper had solidified and now you only had to wait for it to become reality.

Your attention is pulled back to the Williams as they move to leave without saying anything else, though you are quick to ask what time you could pick them up in the morning. Both stop in their tracks and a full laugh is released from each of them.

“I wouldn’t know Ms. CeCe.” Janice all but spits the name out as it were venom. “We’re leaving now, not our problem according to that little paper. Have fun with the little devils.”

You had heard the twins mention more than enough times that their foster parents weren't fond of them, though hearing them talk about the children with such hatred shocked you and angered you went in a way that was indescribable. You're stunned in silence momentarily and by the time you realize that you don't have booster seats for either of the kids, the Williams are long gone from the school.

The defeated side falls from your lips, as you're trying to figure out how you can get two booster seats before the end of the school day while still teaching. Jake's hand rests against the small of your back and the slight movement of it reels your mind back in.

“They didn't give us booster seats. I haven't even gotten anything set up yet for them to sleep on, I was going to do it tonight.” You don't direct the statement towards anyone in particular, but you know Jake will be the first one working to find a solution.

“Don't worry sweetheart, Javy and I will take care of it. We've still got a couple hours before we have to be back. We'll go get everything and drop off the booster seats, before heading back to base.”

The words are muttered against your temple before a gentle kiss is placed. You're quick to bring Jake’s hand resting on your waist up to your mouth, to place a gentle kiss of thanks on it. You glance at Mrs. Adams who gives you a smile before she announces to everyone that Melissa is undoubtedly being manipulated by the children. A round of laughs echoed through the room before you leaned up to give Jake a kiss, placing all the love and thank you that you couldn't say into it.

He gives you a small smile before clasping your cheeks and kissing you on the forehead, turning to drag an unhappy Javy away from a smiling Ms. Reynolds. Before they can get far Javy calls out to have you give Ms. Reynolds his phone number. Jake’s laugh echoes off the hallways before he calls out as well, telling you that he may be a little late getting home tonight.

...

You wave to Mrs. Paulson as she guides Allison across the street. Mrs. Paulson had been the one parent that you could always count on, and once again she came to your aid when she decided to help supervise the field trip. You had met her husband at a parent-teacher conference and had instantly fallen in love with the family. Not only was Allison a wonderful student, but her parents were always open to trying new ideas. She just gotten diagnosed with ADHD this last summer and the Paulson, Mrs. Adams, and you were working up the best plan to help Allison.

You glance across the street once more making sure that everyone has been picked, before turning around to find Gray and Laine lying in the front grass watching the sky. Today was warmer than usual and the 70-degree December weather was quite enjoyable. You see Gray point to the sky, causing you to look up to see what the pair have been intensely watching.

A smile forms on your lips as you see a jet fly overhead, one of the perks of being just off base. You had love planes growing up and were always on base when your father was home, seeing the pair of them just as in love with planes only warms your heart more. Your movement toward the twins has them looking at you as you settle on your back beside Grayson, so he now rests between you and Madelaine.

“I think they're doing drills,” You hum in reply to Gray, waiting for him to continue. “They’ve been running the same pattern since we laid down.”

“See, watch how the two side planes break off and the middle one breaks toward either one.” You glance at Madelaine, silently wondering when she had become interested in planes. “Maybe it’s Mr. Jake. He’s a good flyer, right Gray.”

“Right.”

They both sound so sure of themselves and you giggle at how serious they are. Jake was going to eat this up when you told him, just one more thing to add to the ever-growing ego. You lay with them for a bit, enjoying how they talk about each plane so animatedly. You glance at your watch and find that it's nearing 4:30; the three of you needed to get home to ready where the twins are sleeping.

Home.

The word jars you for a minute and you have to silently remind yourself that it wasn’t the twin’s home. The arrangement was only for the weekend, and they weren’t your children, no matter how much you wished that they were. 

“Alright you two, we need to get going.” You rise onto your elbows and find the pair of them grinning at you. You had talked to them the morning after you called Janice and asked if they would be okay staying with you. You would never want to make either of them uncomfortable, and luckily they were more than excited at the idea of staying with you. More so when they realized it meant they would get to go on the field trip.

...

The car ride home was easy thanks to the pre-installed car seats, which you would have to thank Jake and Javy for. You had given Madelaine your phone when she had asked to pick the songs and unsurprisingly the five-year-old had put on one of your Spotify playlists that she continually requested during art time in class. Both you and Gray were happily surprised at her choice of 80’s hits.

The pair of them had sung the whole way home, putting on quite the show from what you could see in the review mirror. Their little voices filled that small car, flipping between words they knew, to just humming along to the tune.

You pull up to the house, the vacant parking space and dark house confirm that Jake was indeed going to be late tonight. Both of the kids are out of the car before you can even try to unbuckle them. Their eyes sparkle are they look at the white bungalow, bouncing on their toes at the sight of a front lawn and you can hear Gray whisper to Laine, asking if they were actually allowed to play on it.

The question hurts, such a simple request that had no doubt been denied before. Though before you can fall further down the rabbit hole, you grab the twin totes from the passenger seat. You were going to enjoy this weekend, make it the best experience for them both, and not think about everything else.

“Come on my darlings,” You glance at your watch and find that it's almost five. “We’ve got to cook dinner and get your beds situated for tonight, we’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

Both of them give you a massive smile and Gray is quick to latch onto your hand, while Laine walks up the red stone walkway. You knew that Gray got anxious when it came to new ideas and had expected him to be attached to you for most of the night.

Laine, on the other hand, would know the house like the back of her hand by the end of the weekend and most likely have Jake wrapped around her finger. More so than he already is.

To your complete surprise, upon entry into the guest bedroom, you found the white daybed completely set up with the bedding set you had picked up the other day. You and Jake had decided that for this weekend the twins could stay in one room together, you didn’t want to separate them and cause any unneeded stress. While you had thought you would be setting up the room tonight, Jake and Javy must have come by and done it after finding out that the twins would be staying tonight.

“Alright you two, what do you think?” You hadn’t realized just how worried you were about the twins liking what you had picked out for them. You had found a set of light and dark blue bed sheets that you thought would be appropriate. Then found each of them their own special blanket, Gray’s consisted of planes and the Navy emblem, while Lainie’s had turtles and other tropical fish.

You watch the both of them carefully as they walk into the room, taking in the plain white walls and the small book nook where you enjoyed reading. They move slowly through the room, fingers running over the dresser and then stopping at the bed. The totes fall from their hands, and they slowly pick up the blankets, examining the cotton as if they had never had a blanket to call their own.

You don’t move and the breath in your chest catches at the reality that is unfolding before you. How long had they gone unloved? How many nights did they cry wrapped in each other’s arms, the only form of protection they knew? Your eyes are misty, and you wipe at the awaiting tear before it can fall.

“Ms. CeCe, who are these for?” Laine asks with only the tiniest echo behind the words.

“They’re yours,” Your voice catches and causes both the twins to turn around. “I picked them out for you. Do you like them?”

A small hum comes from the pair as they clutch onto the blankets and watch you carefully. You give them a weak smile, though before you can let your emotions overwhelm all three of you the sound of the front door opening, and closing has you looking back out into the hall.

“Darlin’?”

The voice has Laine letting out a small squeal before she races past you, blanket in tow, and makes for the front door.

“Mr. Jake!”

Gray settles at your side, holding onto your hand as the both of you make your way out to the front hall. The sight of Madelaine clutching onto Jake as he holds her stops you in your track, and for a moment you forget that they aren’t yours and Jake’s children. How had they looked so much like Jake, with the perfect dirty blonde hair and the small award-winning smile.

Jake glances up at you and gives both you and Gray a smile before he runs a hand down the back of Laine’s hair. A quiet hello, little darlin’ just barely reaches your ears, though as Laine tightens her hold on Jake, you know you heard right.

“We saw you flying today, Mr. Jake.”

The small voice gains the attention of all three of you, and as you look down Gray only smiles back at you in hopes that you’ll confirm what he’s said. Though before you can say anything, Jake adjusts Laine onto his hip, and he walks to bend down in front of Grayson.

“Is that right, buddy?” A smile forms on Gray’s lip before he gives Jake a firm nod. “And how was I doing? Did I meet your standards?”

Gray nods once again, before Laine looks at him in question then turns back to Jake. “Gray says you’re the best.”

“That so?”

Gray’s hand tightens around yours before a hum and smile break across his face. “The best fighter pilot ever seen.”

You hear Jake’s breath catch before his free arm reaches out to grab Gray. A laugh breaks from Gray and any worry you had of him being uncomfortable around Jake, falls to silent ears. With one on each hip, Jake rises and looks at you, the both of you share knowing looks while the twins laugh.

Life had never felt this perfect. You and Jake had always felt whole like you weren’t missing a part of the puzzle, though an add-on would have been welcomed. But now, you both knew that the four of you were the complete puzzle. That without both Gray and Laine in your lives, a part of your puzzle would be incomplete for the first time.

[avianyuh]

hey can i request one with Baekhyun, where he and the reader (she´s also famous) broke up, months ago, so she went on hiatus and after coming back, she gave a statement saying she was really sick so Baek finds out and reach to her.

thanks

HELLO, I haven't received an EXO request in a while! I'm so excited. This one is pretty long so I hope you enjoy it!

“I can’t do this anymore”, Baekhyun yelled as he slammed his fist down on the counter. You were separated by the kitchen island in his apartment. The two of you had been fighting for weeks over anything and everything. You knew it was stress. He had been booked and busy and so had you. Though you had an apartment of your own, the two of you spent the majority of your time at his place. So the past few weeks between your busy schedules consisting of studio sessions, photoshoots and variety show appearances, you would come home late, crawl into his bed regardless if he was home or not. 

For a little background, you had been together for three years. You met Baekhyun backstage at an award show. You had been in a successful group at the time and had just gone solo. You remembered being a nervous wreck that night as you were waiting backstage ro start your performance. He had been waiting with the rest of his members for their own performance, and had been subtly watching you from across the room. It sounded cliche but that was the truth. And although he knew of you, he had never spoken to you but he could tell you were nervous and needed some reassurance. So he stood up, put his hands in the pockets of his dress pants and started to slowly make his way over to you. The thing was, you had been so lost in your own thoughts that you hadn’t even noticed that he was now hovering over you as you sat on the edge of the bench in the waiting area. He took notice of how distracted you were so he cleared his throat in an effort to get your attention, which fortunately for him worked. You looked up, startled to see him standing over you. At first you thought he needed to get past you, so you scooted away and ushered with your arms for him to walk past you. Though all that did was make him laugh and motion no with his hands before he sat down next to you. 

“I can tell you’re nervous”, he said, his voice soothing, you felt yourself relax a bit as you stared into his eyes. “You have nothing to worry about, you have a beautiful voice and your songs are good. I can’t go anywhere without hearing them, people love you.” You shyly thanked him but shook your head no. 

“Thank you for trying to cheer me up but everyone who already went on has a better set than me, I think I’ll be the underwhelming performer of the night.” To that he looked at you with confusion. It was that kind of Are you serious? look.

“I mean, you’re entitled to your opinion, but you’re wrong. I know you’ll do great. And by the way, we all get nervous, it doesn't matter how many times you’ve performed, or if you’re in a group or alone, it’s always nerve-racking, but you’re here for a reason. That reason is because you can sing.”, Baekhyun said as he playfully nudged you before standing up. But before he went back to his group, he looked back at you and gave you a wink. Not going to lie, he made you blush. And he did reassure you because 15 minutes later you were on stage and you killed it. The next day all you saw on the news was praise. And later that night you exchanged phone numbers with Baekhyun and the rest was history. 

It was great for almost all of your relationship but since Baekhyun had been having problems with his company and was planning on leaving, things had become a little tense. For the first two years you had kept things private. But at the start of your third year together you both had come to the conclusion that you were sick of hiding and wanted to go public, so you did. It was rough the first few weeks and the headlines were brutal. You had never had much heat in your career, the only negative press you had ever received up until that point was your group’s disbandment. Especially since your solo career had done so well, some people claimed you sabotaged the group. It hurt, mainly because it wasn’t true, but you had survived it. And the same went for your relationship. Some people were mad, but you both survived it. But now you were getting nervous. It seemed like you and Baekhyun had been moving towards a breakup. But that was the last thing you wanted. But right now, you weren’t so sure you knew what Baekhyun wanted. 

Your voice quivered, “W-what do you mean you can’t do this anymore”, tears welled up in your eyes but you refused to let them fall, you had to show him that you were confident, confident that this phase of your relationship would pass. 

“Y/n, I can’t keep doing this. WE can’t keep doing this. The constant fighting. I come home, we talk and an hour later something sets one of us off.”, you knew he had a point. You looked at him from across the counter. He had dark circles under his eyes, which weren’t from you, but the stress from work, but the unstable homelife probably wasn’t helping, you had to admit. His hair was disheveled and he was wearing a baggy t-shirt. 

It was 12 in the morning and you should’ve been asleep but as the two of you had been laying in bed an hour ago, just as you were starting to drift off, Baekhyun told you as he held you in his arms, half asleep, that he had to go overseas for two months for a new project. You sat straight up from the shock of the news and your eyes that were fighting to say open a minute ago were now bugging out. 

“I’m sorry what”, you snapped. “You just came back from filming something in L.A? Now you’re leaving again. I think I’ve seen you maybe a handful of times this year. And I can’t remember the last time we went on a date.” His response? A sigh. You couldn’t believe it. He was acting like you were crazy and that just made you angrier. So now you’re here, standing across from him, an hour later. And though you hadn’t looked in a mirror, your own appearance mimicked his. You had eyebags to match his, your hair looked like a hairbrush hadn’t been through it in days even though you had just brushed it that morning, you were in your sweatpants and one of his shirts. You both looked stressed. You had your own problems too. Your album had been delayed another three months and your fans, though very loyal to you, not to mention protective, were starting to get impatient considering this was the second delay of your comeback. 

You felt like he didn’t care. And that he wasn’t the same man from three years ago that came up to you in the waiting area and reassured you despite the fact he didn’t have to. 

You took a sharp inhale, tears blurring your vision, you knew you were reaching your breaking point. Something had to change. “So…what do you want to do? Breakup? Take a break? Go to bed and talk about it in the morning?”, you were throwing out as many possibilities as you could, though you hated the first two options, you knew you had to consider them at this point. Baekhyun leaned against the counter behind him. He looked down at the floor for a long while before he looked back up at you. He said nothing, just pursed his lips. Because you knew him so well, you had gotten your answer. You swallowed hard and tried to stop the tears from falling. He came over to you, kissed your forehead and pulled you into his embrace. You breathed him in, melting in his arms. You knew this was the last time you’d have him all to yourself. To feel safe and secure. 

The next morning you packed your stuff up, he drove you to your apartment, came in and got his own things he had left at your place and got ready to leave. 

The two of you stood in the doorway, just looking at each other. Sadness evident on both of your faces. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your lips. You couldn’t bring yourself to hate him, even after the countless fights. You loved him too much. 

Turns out the three month delay had turned into a sixth month delay of your album. You and Baekhyun had decided to wait a month before announcing the split. The last time you contacted him was over text right after the breakup. You had asked if you should tell your company or not, to which he said he thought you should wait. You were sure why he wanted to hold off on a split announcement. And a small part of you hoped it was because any day now he’d be at your door, a hysterical mess and take back the breakup. But to your dismay that never happened. Between losing the life of your life to a bunch of petty fights and frustrations from your jobs, the stress of the album delays and rerecordings and scrapings of songs had amounted to you falling ill. All the stress you had been under had actually made you physically sick. So you laid low, didn;t really go out and just loathed in your self-pity. It wasn’t until a friend of yours had shown up at your apartment one day and talked some sense back into you. A month later you were officially back. You had your ‘mask’ on, pretending to be strong. Luckily you had recovered fully and you could at least prove to the world that you were healthy. Your long overdue album had reached the top of the charts, everything was going well and your schedule was booked up again. You had work back in your life to fill the void in your heart. But you knew that only one man could truly fill the empty space. And that was life for a few weeks. It wasn’t until you had gone on a talk show and had been asked about those few months you were on hiatus that you finally revealed you had been sick. That your body had been put under too much stress. The interviewer gasped as you nodded. Though you weren’t the biggest fan of oversharing, it did feel good to know that your fans were aware of why you had been gone for so long. All of the support rolled in online. Things were starting to look positive again. 

But everything changed the night the interview aired on TV. You heard a knock on your door. You had been sitting on your couch, scrolling through your phone. The time read 9:08. You were hesitant to even approach your door, but when you looked at the front door camera, you felt your heart race increase. There he was. Baekhyun. You immediately unlocked the door. It swung open and he looked down at you, eyes full of concern. 

“Baekhyun? What are you doing here”, you asked as you stepped aside to let him in. But he stood in the same spot outside of the door. 

“I had no idea you had gotten sick. Why didn’t you call me?”, he asked as he reached for your hands. You looked down for a second. 

“I thought we weren’t on speaking terms anymore”, you whispered. 

“I think the whole breakup thing was a bad idea. I miss you”, he said as his hand caressed your cheek. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. You felt tears well up in your eyes, you had been holding it in, just how much you had missed him. He still had bags under his eyes. “Have you been sleeping well”, you asked, concern was laced into your question. 

“Is it obvious?”, he responded. You laughed as you brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes. 

“No more fights.” you stated. 

“No more fights”, he repeated. 

“I love you” you said simultaneously. 

[bluginkgo]

Quick announcement (before the diarrhea of information):

I'm gonna go on a semi-hiatus for a week or so. I'll still be around, just not posting any drawings. Need to replenish my energy and drawing reserves cause I'm dead >_<

Sleep behind scenes!

So... Ginkgo why the hell did this take you so long? Sorry, sorry 😅 Here's what happened. I got burned out after like 10 pages (specifically the manor backgrounds killed me, plus having the full gang in the story) and then got sick and was not feeling all that great. Working through the burn out, sick, AND college work on top was quite hard not gonna lie though, but I wanted to finish it ^^

Alright, now as for little unnecessary Easter eggs, I added as nods to the show and my other interests. ^_^

1. Undertale save point. Undertale had me sucked in for a good long while, and for some odd reason decided to re-emerge in a form of the star save. Made it purple for Uzi's effect over N. She made him more rebellious, so he started to question why is it his memories and dreams are strange/corrupted/missing instead of just going with the flow.

2. Ep3 nod. V and N have history, history that I wish we get to see. V was nicer, kinder, in my opinion, prior to the absolute solver going rampage. So it makes sense for them to have some sort of friendship at the VERY least. So I decides to give it a small spin to it too. A direct quote from ep3 ^_^

3. Ep 2 + 5 nod. I kinda pulled the moment when James dismissed N from ep2 together with events that follow after N leaves library in ep5. Chronologically, these events don't fit together, seeing as ep2 is when N first meets Cyn and ep5 is when she's already set up the massacre. But this is exactly what I was going for. N's memories are jumbled at best, so I took liberty in mixing, matching, and editing his memories just as the admin program would probably.

4. Absolute Solver symbols nod. My chats with @absolute-solver (sorry for annoying you with tag 😅) made me realize that the absolute solver ought to have more presence now. It's activated and running systems in the background for Uzi. Whiiiiich means that drawing absolute solver should start now. BUT, it's rudimentary at best. Symbols don't really make sense and are not completed for most of the time. Not until Uzi at least sees the error message in ep2, when she truly starts questioning what that weird symbol on her visor is. I headcanon that N does know or at least feel that the absolute solver symbol is familiar, hence the little comment.

5. Absolute Solver Nori. Why is there so many absolute solver Nori around? I'm certain she went back to normal, just like in pictures Khan showed us in ep4 post core collapse. But I connected the solvers together here. Uzi's absolute solver string is up and running, and because the solver is a hivemind, it'd connect the memories and warp them a little. So that's why Uzi's doodle of her and Nori at the end (and during memory recall) was so full of absolute solver. It's slowly taking root, whether she wants it to or not.

Personal touches/added/cut ideas:

N's tail wrapping around Uzi like a hug. Originally, Uzi was supposed to look more nervous, but not for the reasons you might think. I cut the nervous look to a more upset look so it wouldn't be confused for fear. Uzi's never scared of N (yes, I don't count ep2 either, that was a lot of events at once and very little time to process them). The nervous look was more of a "Why are you butting in?" type, you know? Being a loner makes you cautious, so when N prods at feelings, I figured Uzi would be a bit defensive.

Cyn is fully rendered and yet I glitched her so much I felt bad. So here's full absolute solver Cyn eldrich monster thingy. ^_^

I pulled a Hazbin hotel moment. Did you see it? Abracadabra GONE! All the scraps from first couple pages with NUzi chatting POOFED out of the existence. Did I get lazy and tired? Yes, that was the tell tale sign of burn out, when I stopped keeping track of background details and just kept the pod.

These progress shots show pretty well how the story boarding goes and how I change my mind too easily. 😅 storyboard is still as much of a mess as ever, sketch shows you I was gonna keep Uzi's hat, but decided against it in final product. I figured this. Nori gave Uzi the jacket whenever Uzi got a bigger body + hair. These are the same jacket and hair Uzi has in canon. Uzi's body is just upgraded again and her hair gets shorter in that regard. The jacket would be big on her, and cover her hands, but what's up with the fluff if I draw canon jacket more spiky? And where's the death battery drawing? I headcanon Uzi drew those on once she got into the angsty teenager stage. The jacket is more spiky from wear and tear.

Fun fact! You can sorta tell who's gonna show up in the comic by what memes I post prior. Here's some examples ^_^ Cyn showed up, and that was first practice with maid outfits and Cyn's eldrich form. Closely followed by manor gang, the second/final form of maid and butler outfits and prime practice for those scenes. This example is a bit spoiler for a meme I'm working on right now! I've never drawn Nori before, so I quickly sketched out the idea and continued on with the comic (otherwise, I'd lose my steam and procrastinate on it again). Memes are filler for you guys while I work on the actual projects (comics), and along the way, they give me practice and change in drawing style ^_^

Is it a coincidence that this comic is called Sleep with the release of a certain horror game? Actually, yeah pure coincidence 😅 I had this drafted allll the way back in November, and didn't take particular interest in poppy playtime until I saw lanky boi, which was actually during a stream I watched on release day of the chapter.

(I didn't know tumblr, or at least the phone app, had a tag limit of 30, BOY was I surprised @brookiedaaroacecookie that must have been THE tag city, sorry 😅)

Next comic is Loneliness 1 and 2

This one is split into 2 POVs from both Uzi and N side, thus its 2 separate comics. That one will be more NUzi centered, too, a slight angst and comfort spin to it. That will come... sometime. I have a few more projects I wanna finish up with prior to starting on these guys ^_^

Why are you still reading this? Omg, have a cookie 🍪 you made it. Have a nice day now ^_^

[fromtheasheslikeaphoenix]

Something I've been thinking about since the latest episode is how interesting and genius the writing of Windbreaker actually is. I'm not currently reading the manga, since every single project I've been wanting to pick up gets indefinite hiatus(ed) or dropped the moment I try but the writing based on the anime is like.. so clever.

*complicated complimenting of author/animation team below the cut*

Instead of us being provided with the background of our main guys, the good guys, we get a few hints for Ume and some bits and pieces for Haruka and nothing otherwise.

At the same time tho we get the introduction to the first bad guys. So clear cut bad guys & this random lil tournament fight thing where we're bound and meant to root exclusively for the good guys - that we don't even really know yet.

Instead of it being this grande failure or clear cut "Go Bofurin GO" hype fest, it's much more 8 dimensional tho because the writing is just that clever.

We enter the event, are shown our guy's determination & all and we are for them winning but then we get the other guy's backgrounds and while we still root for our guy's victory, we are simultaneously perfectly & seamlessly led to grow fond of the "other's".

And all the while we basically know jack shit about our Bofurin baby's yet we've seen their good impact so often and their good naturedness in such genuine ways in such short time that it somehow just makes sense that without them doing or saying anything really, without them really giving the opponents what we aren't given either, they'd have this life changing impact on them purely by saying some words, not faltering, basically they're scraping by and reforming the bad guys solely on vibes and aura and it just makes sense because that's how they got the audience as well.

And so now not only do we have this attachment based on little but genuine face value and instinct for Bofurin, but we're also attached to the opponent because we have their backgrounds now. And all the same the opponent has this same strange connection we have with Bofurin now with Bofurin as well.... And all the while we still know jack shit about Bofurin, so we are bound to come back for more to get that stereotypical connection with those boys one day and until then this cycle of subtle brainwashing will probably continue - if not, it definitely could have been a strategic writing style that would've worked.

All this is to say, either the writer of Windbreaker is just that genius or the animation team made one of the best storytelling rearrangement moves I've seen in roughly 300 shows in 7+ years of anime watching.

[brightoakgame]

Bright Oak Long-Range Planning Update!

Hello, dear friends!

First off, I apologize for the prolonged radio silence! I've been repeatedly sidelined by (thankfully minor) health issues since last fall, and it's made forward progress frustratingly staccato. With that being the case, posting more granular updates feels out of place, so I wanted to put together a more macro view of where Bright Oak currently stands in development. ✨

I'll start with the important stuff: Bright Oak is not on hiatus, and a full release is still on the near-ish horizon--but exactly when is a more nebulous matter. This is a passion project I've invested blood, sweat, years, and tears into, and no one wants it finished and out in the world more than I do.

As for where the game as a whole stands: it is now almost completely rough-coded (I'd say 85-90%?), with only a handful of backgrounds remaining to sketch, paint, and implement. There are some other little details that remain to be ironed out, but overall, the remaining work largely hinges on coding in expressions, backgrounds, sound design, and music.

With so much of the heavy-lifting already done (all very much thanks to my wonderful team of commissioned artists!), the delay I anticipate hinges on myself: the lion's share of the remaining work is the sort of detailed scene sculpting I revel in, but which requires time and focus. Unfortunately, both those resources are in short supply due to some shifts in my life (quite apart from health issues, I'm also preparing for a major move!). Rushing through to reach a self-imposed finish line has never felt like a viable option, either from a practical standpoint or a personal one. The notion of placing Bright Oak on hiatus also holds little appeal for me, though I did give it long consideration. For now, it feels like the best way of proceeding is to continue on when I can, as I can, and accept that the pace of progress is going to be irregular for a time.

While slow and unsteady might not win me any races, I do look forward to seeing you all when Bright Oak does reach the finish line sometime within the next year. ❤️ Thank you all so very, very much for your kindness, support, and patience through this process, and I look forward to sharing the rest of the story when I can!

[surfclangen]

Good and Bad news

Howdy guys! I don't talk to y'all one on one too much, but I want to keep you in the loop.

To start off, I am so super thankful for the support this comic has received!! This is my first real venture into comic making, I am so incredibly grateful to have such a positive reception.

Onto the bad news, y'all may have noticed my posting speed has slowed. I'm very busy in college (graduating with my AA this summer!) between a radio show, being president of the creative writing club, and keeping up with homework, which means I don't have a ton of time to work on personal projects, and when I do, I try to chase what gives me the most dopamine. This isn't super relevant, however, just a peek into my creative process.

The Bad News

Surfclan is going to go onto hiatus after the next two posts so I can work on the overarching story I want to portray. These two posts will finish Arc 1 of Surfclan, which I am happy with and have ironed out, but the draft I have for the rest of the series is kind of cobbled together and not satisfying, certainly not work I'm proud of. If I'm going to dedicate so much time to something, I want it to be work that I am proud of. As a writing student too, it's not right to put so little effort into the writing.

I went into Surfclan without a plan. I wanted a coastal set of clans to worldbuild with, but I had no idea for plot. I let the generator decide what that plot would be, which is fine! But I wasn't given much besides a clan that grew at a decently steady rate and got into occasional shenanigans. I need to put those pieces together properly and figure out how to best portray the themes I want in a respectful manner (right now, there's a heavy theme of colonialism that I just don't think I'm quite ready to handle tactfully.)

If you aren't using Surfclan, can I?

Absolutely! Please feel free to use Surfclan as background characters or cats to fill out gatherings. I am always happy to organize plots in DMs and weave it into Surfclan's eventual finalized script. As long as my babies are kept relatively in character, I have no issues with making it canon. If they aren't, no worries! It just won't be canon to Surfclan. Think of it like an AU!

When will you be back?

I'm not sure, but I'm always happy to answer DMs if you want to chit chat, and I will make a post announcing Surfclan's return when I am ready.

What's the good news then?

Surfclan was always designed to be a "for fun" project that I didn't put too much effort into, hence the scattered upload schedule and art styles, but now that I've experimented a bit, I'm ready to get into comic making more seriously. While I brainstorm ideas for Surfclan I will be shifting focus towards a new Clangen blog loosely based on marshmallow_cat3's Dark Forest challenge and @gray-thistleclan .

Cottonmouth Clan has distinct win and lose conditions and a solidified plot with mysteries to discover. I'm currently working on world building and character design that will be posted to my main blog, @antlermoss. I will have a post up there when I have my details organized with the rules for the challenge, of which you are welcome to use in your own games and comics!

I will reblog Cottonmouth's starter post here when I am ready.

I appreciate your patience and understanding, and hope you guys enjoy the new project (:

[aemondtargaryensfire]

A Ravenous Desire- Masterlist

NOTE: ON HIATUS The writer's block has been BAD for this fic and I've realized that this is because I'm honestly not very happy with what I have written so far and where it's going. I may have rushed my outlining process a little bit. I have thought a lot about it, and I'm going to be revising what I have written from the beginning in an effort to get it to where I'd like it to be and mend the months-long gap that really threw me off of my creative process. There are a lot of things that I would like to add or edit to enrich the overall story, mostly having to do with the background Targaryen lore and general themes. What I have already posted will stay up for the foreseeable future while I work, and I plan to replace those parts with the revised chapters here on Tumblr once I have the entire story at least 90-95% complete. I will also be cross-posting on AO3. This should hopefully put less pressure on me and allow me to follow a posting schedule of updating AT LEAST once a week. This update was posted on 5/25/24.

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader

General Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, cannibalism/descriptions of cannibalistic acts (i.e. eating flesh and other body parts), mentions of inbreeding and incest, violence, gore, blood, murder, death of major character (s), angst, ANGST, soooo much trauma, self-harm

To avoid spoilers, more detailed warnings will be added to each individual chapter. Please pay attention to these!

Summary: When Aemond Targaryen was only ten years old, he ate his own eye. And ten years later, driven by rage and pain, Aemond commits an act that confirms a truth he’d always known: that he was a monster. Desperate to flee the wrath of his family, Aemond runs away from home, only to meet you, someone more similar to him than he ever thought possible.

Author's Note: Cannibalism as a metaphor, my beloved <3 In all seriousness, this is a dark one. I'm taking some inspiration from Bones and All, so this is intended to take place in the late 80s to early 90s and there may be some narrative similarities.

Prologue

Chapter One, Part I

Chapter One, Part II

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue