#idk what prompted this but thank you

[keymintt]

cool beans

👍

[srapsodia]

Ask prompt: 82 with Karasuno boys driving for the first time after getting their license with their teammates along for the ride....to varying degrees of success lol

82: one driving, other passenger

Asahi's first time driving the team around!

[domirine]

the duality of when dog wants your food

[moonchild-in-blue]

Lukewarm take: I hate breakfast in bed. No, not even coffee. No. Breakfast on the couch though? Big yes.

[endless-ineffabilities]

chem ov pocketshot #1 🌙

Darling coming home late to their flat after filming, to find Ewan already asleep on his side of their bed. She'd quietly sneak in, giving him a wide berth so as not to wake him up.

But in the morning, she'd find that he pulled her to him sometime in the night, and his body cocoons her own—with his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, his leg draped over hers, and his nose pressed to the back of her neck.

E: I'm kinda offended you didn't cuddle me.

D: Didn't want to wake you up, babe.

E: Excuses, excuses...

D: Well we're cuddling now so—

E: Not enough. You'll have to make it up to me.

D: ... How?

E: Hmm... well... it seems like he's awake...

D: oh for the love of—

[the-broken-pen]

I adore your writing style! If you want could you do something about a hero with wings?

The villain rounded the corner into the alley just in time to watch the hero nudge the boot of the body in front of them with their foot, face considering.

“For a hero, you kill an awful lot of people,” the villain pointed out, and the hero turned to stare at them, blood splattered across their pure white wings.

“What, that?” The hero kicked the boot of the body strewn across the concrete below them. “This is community service.”

The villain tipped their head at the body. “Does he know that?”

“I think he’s figuring it out,” the hero grinned, and the villain could do nothing more than stare at them, slightly dumb, for a second.

“How the fuck are they still calling you archangel when you keep murdering people in broad daylight.”

The hero shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t even know why they started calling me that in the first place, to be honest.”

The villain made a mocking face at them, and the hero made one back. “Oh, with the pure white wings and dazzling face, I wonder.”

The hero clasped a still bloody hand to their chest. “You think I’m pretty?”

“I think you belong in a jar of formaldehyde.”

The hero dropped their hand, sighing. “Funny, because everyone else keeps writing fanfiction in my honor. And trust me, they have very strong opinions on my appearance.”

The hero’s grin couldn’t be described as anything other than catlike, pleased and sharp. Their wings cocked behind them.

“I’m sorry, you read fanfiction about yourself?”

“Don’t be jealous, there’s plenty about you, too.”

The villain spluttered. “I’m not jealous–”

“Sounds like it.”

“Oh my god.”

“Don’t bring that douche canoe into this,” the hero said, looking up. “His ego is the size of the titanic and I am doing my very best to sink that fucker.”

The villain gaped at them. “That is not very ‘innocent angel baby of the media’ of you.”

The hero kicked the boot of the body once more, and the villain winced. “Will you stop that–”

“Oh, sorry,” the hero looked down at the body. “Do you mind?” They turned back to the villain , gesturing with their thumb over their shoulder. “He says he doesn’t mind.”

“Archangel,” the villain repeated. “Fallen angel, saint of the city–”

“Listen, people will excuse anything if it comes from a pretty package.”

“What, so you use your pretty face to get away with murder?”

“No, I commit murder, and I happen to be pretty, and for some reason everyone is plenty fine with excusing the murder because of that fact. I’d be doing it regardless,” the hero confided. “My murderous tendencies continue whether or not I am forgiven for them.”

“What, so you just murder anyone you feel like?”

The hero gasped. “I’m not a monster,” they said, the corner of their mouth twisting into a wry grin. “My mother raised me right.”

The villain got the sense they were on the wrong side of an inside joke.

“That was decidedly not an answer to my question.”

The hero groaned. “You’re absolutely no fun right now. No, I only kill bad people. I’m a good samaritan.”

“I think we need to redefine your idea of what that term means.”

“Okay, if I was going around killing anyone who annoyed me, I would have a way longer rap sheet. Like people who cut in line. Not to mention how fucking annoying it is when someone decides to DIY a summoning circle in their basement and I have to handle that mess. Do you know how annoying it is to get magically butt dialed by a white woman on a random ass Tuesday?”

The villain blinked. “Uh. Can’t say I do, no.”

The hero ran a hand down their face in annoyance, smearing blood behind as they went. The villain cringed, but it didn’t seem to bother the hero in the slightest. 

“It’s really fucking annoying.”

“You also swear a lot,” the villain noted. “Not very heroic.”

“I think we can both agree I remain very firmly planted in the vigilante section of the spectrum,” the hero gestured with their hands to some imaginary chart. The villain squinted at them. “Also, what are you, the language police?”

“Uh,” the villain said, and the hero smiled innocently at them. There really wasn’t anything to say to that. “No?”

“Tell me, you pick up lots of girls with that suave demeanor of yours?”

The villain bristled at that. “You–I–ugh,” the villain groaned. “Did it hurt?”

The hero’s head tipped slightly to the side, endlessly amused. “Hmm?”

“When you fell from heaven,” the villain continued, and it was quite possibly the dumbest thing to have ever come out of their mouth, but this entire conversation bordered on a level of unhinged they hadn’t thought possible. 

The hero blinked once, twice, then burst into laughter, doubling over. Their wings ruffled in a way the villain had long since learned meant amusement.

The villain flushed. 

“You really think I fell from heaven?”

“I don’t know,” the villain said defensively. “It’s just a dumb pick up line–”

“You said it with an awful lot of certainty, though,” the hero countered, and the villain wished they had something to throw at them. 

“What was I supposed to think, with a name like Archangel and blinding white wings?”

The hero shrugged one shoulder.

“Have you ever actually met an angel before?” the hero asked, then amended, “other than me?”

“No,” the villain admitted.

“They don’t go around killing people, that’s for sure. Bunch of stuffy–”

Lightning cracked across the sky, and the ground rumbled slightly.

The hero groaned, wings tucking in. Blood flaked onto the ground. “What, you’re both pissed at me?”

A gust of wind whipped past them, hurtling down the alley, there one second and gone the next, and the hero let out a sigh. “Sorry.”

They did not sound sorry.

“Both?”

The hero looked back at them, and this time when they grinned, it was slightly sheepish.

“Yeah,” they said. “God, and, you know. My mom. Raised me right, remember?”

The villain was an idiot.

“You didn’t fall,” the villain confirmed, and the hero nodded their head. “Though I’m sure you absolutely would have earned that by now, if you were going to.”

The hero reared back, like they were about to spit something rude, but the villain continued before they could.

“Please, please tell me your father isn’t Lucifer,” the villain said, and the hero rubbed a hand across the back of their neck.

They laughed slightly. “Uh. About that.”

“Oh my god,” the villain said, and the hero didn’t even look upset about the reference. “You’re from hell.”

“You could call me an avid climber,” the hero offered, and the villain just looked at them.

“You’re an angel from hell,” the villain said.

“Technically, I’m an archangel from hell. So like, the media wasn’t exactly wrong with that one.”

The villain could write a killer memoir about this.

“This makes so much sense.”

The hero frowned. “I don’t like the implications of that.”

“You literally kill people.”

“Bad people,” the hero corrected. “We’ve discussed this.”

“I feel like that violates some sort of cosmic rule. There has to be some rule that breaks.”

“What?”

The villain gestured vaguely. “You’re self supplying your hometown.”

The hero laughed at that. 

“This really is not that big of a deal.”

“You’re a nepo baby.”

“And you’re awfully comfortable saying that to a literal child of satan.”

“If you wanted me dead, I would be.”

The hero weighed their head from side to side. Their wings moved behind them, as if they, too, were considering. “True.”

The villain found themself rubbing a hand over their brow. “You kill people, and you get away with it because you’re pretty, and people think you’re a child of god. When actually, you’re a child of Satan, and you crawled your way out of hell to wreak havoc on my life.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly why I did it,” the hero said dryly. “To fuck with you.”

“I would not put it past you,” the villain countered. 

“You were not my reason,” the hero said. They slid a step closer, hand curling into the villain’s collar, and the villain's mouth went dry. “But you are awfully pretty.”

“You’re literally an angel–”

“Which means it’s high praise,” the hero murmured, wings curving over the tops of their shoulders, and up close they looked even softer than the villain had thought they would. Their eyes stayed firmly planted on the villain’s lips, and the villain had no idea how they had gotten here but they were confused about it and also not quite mad–

“If you’re trying to woo me to distract me from the fact that you’re a dark angel, it’s not working.”

“Isn’t it?”

The villain swallowed. 

“You know, all that fan media includes you,” the hero said casually, and the villain’s heart skipped a beat.

“What?”

“You really thought I read it just for me?” the hero grinned, stepping back, hand falling away from the villain. “Oh, please.”

The villain opened their mouth to say anything, then closed it, then opened it again.

The hero’s eyes were laughing at them.

“Maybe the bloodshed is partially because I want your attention,” the hero mused. “Or maybe not. You’ll never know, will you, human.”

They said it like an endearment.

“You–”

The hero nodded. “Yeah. I tend to do that to people.”

“I don’t–”

“If it means anything,” the hero said as they went to move past the villain. They tucked themselves against the villain, lips brushing the shell of their ear. Their feathers skated down the villain’s bare arm, and they shivered. “My mother approves.”

The villain’s face was hot. They shuddered out a breath. The hero released them, continuing their path down the alleyway, and the villain spun to watch them go.

The hero paused at the mouth of it.

“Oh,” they snapped their fingers like they had remembered something, but their grin said this had been planned. “Her name is Lilith, by the way.”

The villain’s brain short circuited.

Lilith. The mother of all monsters. Lilith, the wife of Lucifer. Lilith, someone who apparently approved of the villain.

‘I’m not a monster. My mother raised me right.’

Oh, this little shit.

The hero laughed, vanishing around the corner, blowing a kiss as they went. The villain could have sworn they had a halo, wings still splattered with blood, and in the arch of the sunlight they were every bit the fallen angel the media thought they were.

“Oh, you beautiful, monstrous, wretched thing,” the villain murmured, but it was fond. “Only you could make damnation look like divinity.”

[bucked-it-up]

Tommy tells Buck he rescued a kitten and he's bringing it home. Buck realizes it's not a kitten. It's a leopard cub?!

Now what?

Buck opens the door to see Tommy standing in the middle of their living room holding something in his arms.

“Tommy?” Buck nervously calls into the room, “what you got there?”

“I rescued a kitten!” Tommy turns towards Buck with a cat in his arms that while yes was kitten like, definitely was not the run of the mill domestic kitten. It was way to large and the pattern on it…well it was a leopards pattern.

“Tommy where did you find it?”

“On my hike,” Tommy looks how at the leopard cub? “Isn’t she adorable?”

“Umm,” Buck wasn’t sure how to go about this, “I dont think that’s just any old house cat.”

“Well no she will be ours.”

“Tommy… that’s a leopard.”

Tommy startles, “well maybe its a bit big but its not a leopard cub.”

“Tommy, babe,” Buck slowly gets closer, moving slowly to not scare the wild animal loving looking at Tommy. “Look at it, that’s not a cat.”

Tommy studies the cat in his arms before looking back buck with a ‘oh i fucked up face’. “Buck what do we do?”

“Work out who to give the cub to and pray they can.”

———

After somehow managing to find somewhere to take the cub that Tommy ended up naming Clover, they were both collapsed on the couch curled into each other.

“You looked so happy to have a cat,” Buck murmurs into Tommys chest. “Maybe we should get one, a Maine coon, so you can have a big cat.’

“You really want to get a cat?” Tommy kisses Bucks hair.

“Yeah, and you look good with a cat in your arms.” Buck tuns his head to look up at Tommy, “Never thought cat dads could be so hot.”

Tommy laugh softy, “I would like a cat”

“So we will get one, Clover’s sibling,” Tommy leant down and kissed Buck deep after that. They stayed close on the couch eventually curled up on the couch asleep.

They got a Maine Coon, this one Tommy named Daisy, when they visited Clover in her new sanctuary they introduced Daisy through pictures. They think Clover likes her.

[buglaur]

she's live

now you can see what everyones height is in my head because i refuse to download height sliders. look at ass <3

[hailsatanacab]

@the-ghost-trader - ooooh, i love this! it has the potential to be so incredibly sad, too, like poor Damian just trying to carve out something normal for himself only for it blow up in his face

BUT, shockingly, i'm not about the angst today! not yet anyway 😇

---

“So, how was your day?”

Despite his answering groan, Damian likes this. This. This whole… thing he has with Danielle. With Ellie. 

And, yeah, he’s not exactly told any of the others yet, but can you blame him? For wanting to keep something, anything, to himself. Wanting to keep this small little slice of goodness he’s managed to carve out, untouched and unmarred by his family, by their other lives, by the rogues, the vigilantes, the assassins, everyone.

“That bad, huh?”

Being with Ellie is freeing. That’s the best way to describe it.

She knows. Damian surprised even himself when he told her—not about the others, mind, but he supposes it’s not hard to put two and two together and Dani has always been smarter than most—but it’s the best decision he’s ever made, and no matter what the niggling little voice in the back of his head says (the one that sounds suspiciously like Father), he can’t bring himself to regret it.

He won’t. Because having Ellie know gives him freedom.

She’s a safe place, a hand to hold, a warm, welcoming presence when things inevitably turn ugly. It’s the freedom to just be normal when everything else in his life spirals into stranger and more stressful missions.

“Richard is being insufferable again. I do not understand his incessant need to know everything about my life.”

“Oh? What’s he done now?” 

“I was subjected to an hour long interrogation about my love life, like it’s any of his business. It’s infuriating!”

“Ugh, tell me about it. I get the same thing from Jazz, constantly. It can be suffocating.” Ellie says as she curls herself tighter into his side. “But it’s just how they show they care.”

“Yes, well, sometimes I wish he wouldn’t—”

“Hey!” Ellie pushes herself up to glare at him, punctuating her shout with a soft whack to his arm for good measure. “What have I said about using that word?”

“Yes, yes,” he placates with a roll of his eyes, “‘Be careful what you wish for.’ I apologise, it won't happen again.”

“Damn straight it won't.”

She maintains eye contact with him for a second longer before tucking herself back into his side, squirming around with a long, contented hum that Damian can feel rumble through him. He smiles and doesn’t complain even when he has to shift to give her more room after a particularly strong elbow jabs him in the ribs. It means leaving the warm patch on the couch, but he’s rewarded with another long, happy moan as she settles and Damian can’t bring himself to mind.

Ellie constantly makes noises. Little mews and hums and laughs and songs known only to her. It reminds him of a cat, sometimes. He likes it. It calms him down; it means she’s happy, so he's happy.

They settle back into the cushions and Damian lets the subject drop, not wanting to spoil the moment. Outside, the wind changes direction and from where he’s laying he can watch as the snow starts to come down thick and heavy. Hopefully it’ll mean a quiet night's patrol.

“Is that why you haven’t introduced me yet?”

“What?” He can't help it, he stiffens at the thought of losing his secret, of the scrutiny he'll be inviting if he lets anyone know.

“Are you worried I’ll embarrass you?”

Damian’s eyes snap down quick to reassure her, only to see her light, teasing grin. He lets out a breath of relief. It figures she wouldn't worry about that.

“Of course not, don’t be absurd. You could never embarrass me.”

“I don’t know,” she muses, her voice taking on a dangerous lilt, “that sounds like a challenge.”

“Believe me, having been subjected to Father’s Brucie persona at every gala I’ve been to, it would take a lot to embarrass me.”

“Alright, bet. I’ll get you, just you wait.”

“You’ve already got me.”

She flicks him on the nose. “You’re such a sap.”

He hums his agreement, enjoying the tinkling sound of her laughter. And then, before he can think otherwise, he asks, “Is that why you haven’t introduced me?”

“That’s different,” she scowls. “You know how hard it is to get there, there’s no signal, and Danny only gets a break like—oh, Ancients!”

Damian gets another elbow to the ribs as she bolts upright, a manic grin on her face that has him laughing.

“What is it?”

“It’s the holidays! It’s nearly Truce Day! You know I said I had a family thing around Christmas?”

“Yes?” 

“Well, do you want to come to it? I can introduce you then! I mean, it’s going to be a bit formal and you’ll have to meet everyone, not just family. There’s going to be some banquets, you’ll have to sit through some long speeches and you have to be on your best behaviour at all times, okay? Absolutely no fighting, it’s called Truce Day for a reason!”

“What?”

“Yeah, it’ll be perfect! I think Jazz is going in a couple days earlier to help with the preparations, so I’ll get her to let Danny know—and fair warning, he will try to give you the shovel talk, but this is great! It’s Truce Day, so he can’t actually do anything about it!”

“I’m sorry, but you're going to have to explain a bit.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s a bit much—but that’s family, right? Danny can get pretty protective over me, which is why going on Truce Day is the best time to do it! He can’t even command the Fright Knight to stab you! It’s genius!”

“Ellie, what?”

“Like, yeah, sure, he’s the king, but even he has to obey the rules of Truce Day—and then once you’ve spent all day with him, he’ll see that you’re a fantastic, wonderful, kind, brilliant, smart, strong, capable person and he’ll get over himself and everything will be good!"

Damian collapses down onto the couch, the wind knocked out of him. This is… He had not expected anything like this at all. For all that Ellie talked about her family, she had never mentioned this.

“Did you… did you say your brother is a king?”

“Yeah! High King Phantom, have I…” The manic grin slips off her face as she turns round and notices Damian. “Have I not mentioned that before?”

“No. No, you have not.”

“Ah. Sorry. Probably should clarify that I’m also a princess.”

“Right. Yes, that follows.”

“And I’m not really his sister, I’m his clone.”

“What?”

Damian blinks and tries to say more, but he has no idea what he’s meant to do with… any of this information. 

Normal. He thought she was meant to be his normal. Nothing could have prepared him for this.

Not that it changed anything, of course, of that he was certain. It’s just… a lot to take in. Overwhelming. But it's okay! He takes a deep breath, and another, and a sense of calm washes over him. Ellie makes one of her little hums as she cocks her head to the side to consider him and he can't help but relax at the normalcy of the sound. It'll be okay, he's dealt with stranger and he can deal with this.

“I’ve, uh… I’ve told you that we’re half ghosts, though, right?”

“What?”

[wanderingblindly]

nr 30 landoscar

Hellloooooooooo the kiss is small but trust that it's there! And comforting! here's the link for more prompts <33333

Soothsaying

He's just – you know how Lando is.

He slams the door behind him, the sound echoes through his driver room. He's nearly vibrating, shaking from the adrenaline and shaking from the frustration – sweat cold and tears hot. With a resounding knock, he rests against the door, head knocking back against it.

Thud.

Like his car spinning out on the track, smashing against the walls until it comes to a pitiful stop – tapping against the final barrier with just enough force to jerk Lando's head back.

Thud.

"Fuck," He hisses, pressing his palms into his eyes. His fingers are unsteady, they feel detached from him. Hot and cold, hot and cold, like he left al the parts of him that make sense back in his mangled car.

He's got the speed, but the mental strength. He's always his own worst critic

Lando takes a heavy step forward, staggering and uneven, before giving up; he makes a noise – some confused mix of a choked sob and a shout – and crumples to the floor, head between his knees.

He can't breathe. His lungs are spasming, tight like he's still careening towards the wall, tight like Will Buxton has his fucking hands deep in his chest and squeezes with each fucking word.

But you know Lando. Is he really world champion material?

Tears fall freely to the floor, Lando's unable to stop them. It's like he can't control his face, contorted up into some snotty, fevered, panicked mess, as he stares blankly at the short carpet between his feet.

Weakly, like a last attempt at feeling the world around him, Lando digs his nails into the floor; he tries to focus on the sensation, the scratchy-rough texture on his fingertips, bitten and picked raw since the season started. In the back of his mind – where he sits as a viewer, an occupant – he's aware of his uneven gasps, of his violent sniffing and coughing as he chokes on his own tears and spit.

It's not the look of a champion, a would-be champion. A couldn't-be champion, a never-be champion.

The door opens silently, closes with a gentle click.

Oscar doesn't say anything as he lowers himself next to Lando, sat patiently by his side, hands curled in his lap. But Lando can feel him, radiate solid warmth alongside the scratchy-rough carpet pressing into his legs. He feels like a lighthouse to a man drowning – stable upon the shore.

"I –" Lando hiccups towards the floor, any other words lost in the painful jerks of his diaphragm. "I-it's –"

"There's no rush." Oscar says simply, just like he always says simply. He leans slightly to the side, his shoulder resting against Lando's side; the pressure feels safe, restrictive like a harness as his ribs ache.

"B-bu –"

"Shhh," Oscar shifts further – adjusts until their sides are completely aligned, touching as much as possible without Lando unfurling. "Just breathe with me, ok?" He whispers, turning his head to press a gentle kiss to Lando's slumped shoulder.

After a shaky, desperate inhale: "Ok."

[wildstar25]

MiqoMarch Day 23 - Midnight

With their intended voyage into the void only a few days out, Arsay thought it the upmost importance that she steal her partner away to Kugane, that they might share one more fond memory together should things not turn out the way they plan in the thirteenth. It was as they crossed the very same bridge the miqo'te had once sat on together two years prior when Arsay gifted Y'shtola with a bracelet matching that of her own. A token of endearment which, Arsay confessed, she would have given to her fellow scion back then, had nerves not gotten the best of her. While their relationship has undoubtedly changed since the initial purchase of the jewellery, the sentiment remained the same. Y'shtola was someone who Arsay loved dearly and she will forever be grateful to have the seeker's life intertwined with her own. No matter where their free spirits took them, they would always hold each other in their hearts. A promise Y'shtola was more than willing to keep. She slipped the the string of beads around her wrist without a second thought. They were never to come off, not even when the two decided to delay their return to Radz-at-Han in favour of a private bath at the dead of night.

[tibby-art]

You are a magnificent human being I think

thank you?! ;_;

[littencloud9]

your fics are so sweet :) what about “i couldn’t be more proud of you” with kunikida and atsushi? (platonically!)

thank you anon 🥹🫶 i lovbe them. have some post-canon stuff where everyone is okay and happy

—

When Atsushi returns from the battlefield with Akutagawa, Kunikida rushes to greet him.

He has scratches littered across his face, his ability yet to heal them. His clothes are tattered and torn, and there are blood stains on his left shoulder. But his eyes are open and Atsushi is breathing and he is alive, so that’s all that matters.

“Atsushi,” Kunikida sighs in relief, dashing forward and wrapping him up in a hug. Atsushi squeaks in surprise, but his arms—still transformed—come up to hug him twice as hard.

“Is everyone okay?” Atsushi asks. Kunikida buries his face into his shoulder.

“Thanks to you two, yes. I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

There’s a small whimper from Atsushi and Kunikida pulls back, wondering if he’s hurt. He’s instead met with teary eyes and trembling lips.

“What—” he begins, panicked, and Atsushi lets out a sob.

“I’m proud of you too, Kunikida-san!”

“I…” Kunikida’s own eyes start to sting.

Yosano steps over, slapping both of them on the backs. “Alright, you crybabies! Just hug it out already!”

She wraps her arms around them, bringing them in for a group hug. Kunikida catches Atsushi before he gets squashed, holding him while the rest of the Agency piles on top of them. Atsushi detransforms his arms at the last minute so as to not hurt anybody.

In this moment, he looks so much more vulnerable.

Kunikida squeezes him a little harder in response.

[mehoymalloy]

Look I am simply saying that Imogen deserved so many more opportunities to make Otohan fall in hate with her a lil bit with her +5 charisma modifier. Imogen is the only person we ever saw Otohan truly lose their patience with (thinking specifically of 'you bitch' in that final fight, all frustration and anger with not an ounce of taunting or snark), now imagine if Imogen actually tried to get under their skin. After everything Otohan did it would've been glorious if Imogen got to truly pay that back tenfold. Yes I'm feeling a bit feral about them tonight, why do you ask~?

[cedobols]

I have a silly request/idea but before I say it, I just wanna tell you that your blog rocks my world. Your Martian art is scrumptious nom nom nom nom it is so wonderful and I smile every time it pops up on my feed ‼️💝🩷

Okay so: the "ah yes, my girlfriend and her 500 dollar four foot tall mareep" prompt but with Seb and Mark and Seb's 500 dollar five foot cinnamonroll plush.

xoxoxo love ur work 💕

[nexility-sims]

Hi, there! Love your story!! Any advice for a first-time simmer looking to do this sort of thing?

i'm gonna say from the outset that you surely did not request an automobile manual's worth of expounding on such a simple question, but ... that's what i've given you :^) partly, i wanted to cover all the of the bases of what you may have meant, so there are three parts: "general advice for thriving," "specific advice for knowing when you're ready," and "specific advice for doing what i do." hopefully these are useful and not completely derivative of what other people have said recently. beyond that, i'll just say i am always, always happy to talk about storytelling, to answer questions, and to give feedback on anything and everything. thanks for the question—and the kind words, too !

ONE - general advice for thriving

JUST START TELLING YOUR STORY ALREADY. maybe it’s obvious, but the best advice is to dive in. it’s like going for the first swim of the season and knowing you’ve got to take the plunge but dreading the cold of it. once you finally submerge yourself, you’re having fun. it’s easy to get caught up in endless preparation. planning is important, whatever that looks like for you, but you’ve got to know when it becomes procrastinating. being ready to start is not the same thing as being 100% confident and 100% polished. i’m willing to bet none of your favorite storytellers, people whose stories have been ongoing for years with dedicated readers, started off confident and polished. it may not be universal, but i think there’s a common reaction when a new reader likes your very first story post: cringing because it’s your worst work but knowing it only gets better from there. storytelling is something you have to practice, and the basics of it become more intuitive and effortless as you go.

continued and continued and continued below ...

BE INTENTIONAL ABOUT WHAT BRINGS YOU JOY. to feel satisfied and stay motivated, prioritize your passions. you want to tell this specific story for a reason; you want to do simblr storytelling, specifically, for a reason. the former is likely because you’re inspired by your plot/characters. the latter could be because you enjoy taking screenshots, you enjoy writing dialogue, you love reading simblr stories, or any number of technical reasons why the medium speaks to you. there are probably things you don’t love as much—posing sims, filling plot holes, realizing your skills don’t fully line up with your ambitions. in my experience, being able to name why you’re doing this translates into being able to crafting a story around those priorities. that, in turn, means having the motivation to power through the parts you like less. 

i hate making poses, so i approach my work from the perspective of, “i’m not going to get hung up on having the exact right poses, and i don’t want to slow my story down by wasting time in blender.” other people love making poses or decide having the right one is what’s important to them. being purposeful saves you the trouble of agonizing over things that aren’t actually necessary or, worse, that eventually lead you to burn out and abandon the work altogether. we have to make compromises to tell good stories—maybe you hate writing outlines but know doing it will make things easier later—and it’s invaluable, imo, to know why you’re making those choices. there are jacks-of-all-trades with infinite free time and buckets of inspiration among us, but you’re likely not one of them. don’t worry, though, because neither am i. 

FALL IN LOVE WITH OTHER PEOPLE'S STORIES. this one is huge, albeit ostensibly a step removed from the immediate task of storytelling. something i’ve noticed is that people who genuinely engage with other people’s work get more love for their own. it makes sense when you think about it. ideally, if someone is taking the time to catch up on my story, to ask me questions about my characters, to demonstrate that they see what i’m doing, then i want to reciprocate that. to me, it’s actually off-putting when someone only ever publicizes or discusses their own story. that being said, it’s easy to get caught up in our work—using our finite free time to make sure our project gets done—and not allocate time for getting to know other people’s. it’s no crime or even a bad thing. yet, to me, that defeats the purpose of joining a community like this one. it also makes our stories weaker, to reference the wisdom that writers must also be readers. talking to someone about their characters, their writing process, how they stage a scene in the game (or observing those elements while reading their posts) makes me reflect on what i’m doing. paying true attention to other storytellers is a practice of reciprocity that builds community, and it gives you solid examples to learn from as you go. 

FOCUS ON GROWTH, NOT WEAKNESS. relatedly, the learning element is so important! a common pitfall, especially for someone just starting out, is getting hung up on what you think you’re doing wrong and comparing yourself to others. maybe their stories are more visually pleasing. maybe their plots have better pacing and impact. maybe their characters get more engagement from readers. step one is to not compare, but i suspect most of us will cop to failing that step. step two, then, could be turning those negative feelings into motivation. if your options are getting down on yourself and abandoning your story versus pushing through and improving ... well, it’s clear to me which is the better option. step three is figuring out how to push through and improve. my advice is the above tip: make some friends whose stories you admire and who are willing to give you encouragement and feedback. most simblr folks, i find, are generous like that.

IT'S A HOBBY AND A CRAFT AND A COMMUNITY. that leads me to my final point, which is basically a bundle of generative contradictions. simblr is a hobby, which means you can’t take it too seriously. storytelling is a craft, which means you have to take it seriously to get better. story simblr is a community, which means the best way to have fun and get better is by doing it with other people. if your goal is to have a hugely popular story that hundreds of nameless followers adoringly read, then, statistically, you’re going to fail. a more reasonable goal is becoming part of a collective who are working on stories they mutually enjoy. maybe you’re in a writing group or have a beta reader. maybe you’re collaborating with another simblr. maybe you have a handful of mutuals with whom you interact exclusively through likes, reblogs, and replies. having done all of the above, my experience is that i’m most excited about my story, most motivated to work on it, most likely to get the positive engagement i want when i’m actively trying to have fun, get better, and be part of the community. from someone who is not infrequently stymied by social anxiety and perfectionism: you can’t reap benefits you don’t sow. 

TWO - advice for knowing when you’re ready:

TURN YOUR IDEA INTO A CAST AND A NARRATIVE. i say narrative instead of “outline” for a few reasons: 1) not every story is event-driven, 2) the traditionally imagined outline structure doesn’t work for everyone, and 3) pre-defining everything doesn’t work for everyone either, plus 3a) frontloading too much detail is a lot of work and 3b) can dampen creativity. maybe you have a bulleted list, an illustrated storyboard, a well-organized playlist … regardless of what it is, you should know roughly what the sequence of major experiences or events is, how they’re connected, and what you want them to convey to the reader. i did a ton of winging it when i started my main story in 2021, and i did a lot more planning with this current project; as you go, you’ll figure out what kind of preparation makes the most sense for you, and that may change, too.

MAKE DECISIONS ABOUT THE LOGISTICS. it’s important to emphasize that you can and perhaps should change your mind / experiment later, but some things are nice to have settled before you start posting. among them, i would recommend several. one is figuring out if you do scripts or screenshots first. another is knowing if your story is more gameplay-based or will rely on poses. you should also have a sense of the locations you’ll need and whether those will be existing in-game lots, builds you download from others, or ones you build yourself. are you editing your screenshots visually, in canva, photoshop, gimp, photopea, etc? are you using reshade / gshade in game? are you writing dialogue, prose, or both—and are you then putting it on the screenshots or as text below them? what’s your posting schedule going to be, if you choose to have one instead of posting as you go? these are just some considerations, but i would say they’re significant. for every combination of ways to tell a story, there’s almost certainly a simblr doing it. there’s no right or wrong, only what’s right for you.

RUN YOUR PLANS BY SOMEONE ELSE. it’s not essential or always feasible, but feedback can make you feel better about the whole thing. having someone give you constructive criticism, whether on your outline or your planned posting schedule, is helpful. even more helpful is knowing someone is already familiar and enthusiastically waiting to see more of your project. an added benefit is that, if you’re nervous about how your story will be received, this can be a practice run at sharing it! 

THREE - advice for doing what i do:

i describe my story as historical drama, as an anti / decolonial worldbulding experiment, as being about intergenerational family and the exercise of power. so, if you’d like to enter the royal simblr genre (or thereabouts) and do something that is—i think i can say—unique, then here’s my anecdotal advice.

HAVE A STRONG INSPIRATION BASE. if you’re not faithfully basing your country on a real world location, then you should at least have a solid idea of where your inspiration is coming from. i consider my story an indigenous story, and my inspiration is mainly histories and cultures in the western hemisphere—primarily but not exclusively in what’s currently mexico and central america, plus from what’s currently the united states and also some histories of the iberian peninsula. i’m not trying to recreate any particular nation or culture, but knowing the origins of influence both helps my creations feel more cohesive and gives me a reliable source when i need inspiration.

DO YOUR RESEARCH WHEN IT MATTERS. relatedly, you can’t be inspired by the real world—by real everyday people’s real cultures—without using them respectfully. more often than not, that means doing research. i suppose i think of it as, “if someone sees themself in my story, how is that going to make them feel?” i don’t let that thought discourage me or make me fearful; i use it as motivation to ensure i’m producing good representation. i know where my expertise and personal experience end, and i’m willing to put in the work to make sure i’m not being careless. that being said, research isn’t just about cultural sensitivity! doing your research—especially for historical settings or with institutions / processes you haven’t personally dealt with, like royalty or executive governance—makes the story stronger. you don’t have to bore your readers with reams of findings or shoehorning details into places they don’t belong. understanding the context in which your story takes place will help you intuitively and subtly render the world more realistic and immersive, write characters who are more believable and engaging, and craft plots that make more logical, interesting use of the setting in which they’re unfolding.

FALL IN LOVE WITH YOUR PROTAGONIST. this is obvious, but it’s especially true when you’re writing a story the way i do. my storytelling is character-driven in the sense that, more than the events of the plot, i like to focus on moments that develop the characters and their relationships. it’s also character-driven in the sense that i choose a character or two and let them drive the narrative. i just don’t have the adeptness for ensemble casts; i can’t handle the moving parts, and i naturally close in on a particular character’s emotional world rather than zooming out. to make these inclinations work, it’s key to really know your lead characters(s) and feel comfortable working inside their mind / heart. i’ve harped on this before, but motivation is the single most important thing you can know about a character. it puts you on the path to answering so many other key questions, from what their desires are to how their backstory shaped them to how they struggle in the present to what their next move is. if you love your protagonist, then thinking about these questions is more fun than burdensome. 

EMBRACE THE MESS. there is a tendency to avoid messiness, one that is well-meaning but can undermine the story. if you aren’t comfortable with thematic gray areas, with unresolved loose ends, with lingering emotions, with conclusions that aren’t definitively happy, then i think you miss opportunities. these are all issues that have two sides: one is the dreaded plot hole or some equivalent writer’s mistake that leaves readers disgruntled; the other is challenging your readers and giving them intrigue to chew on, to dissect and debate, to feel as they read. my advice is that you can have contradictions and complexity and even ugliness in your story, but you have to purposefully put it there—or take control of it, if it arises on its own.

DO IT FOR YOURSELF, NOT FOR OTHER PEOPLE. at the end of the day, the story that you pour your heart into just won’t connect with or excite everyone. the characters, the plots, the world, the genres, the way you post, how you talk about the story ... it won’t always resonate the way you hope. being okay with that is what makes storytelling sustainable. sometimes i wonder why i put so much effort and thought into what i’m doing, especially when it seems like no one seems to notice. what i have to remind myself is that some people do appreciate it and, more importantly, the process brings me joy. to reference earlier advice, i’m putting effort into the parts that are my priorities, and i’ve made connections with a handful of people who give me the enthusiasm i need on days when simple enjoyment isn’t enough. “being okay with that” isn’t a permanent feeling; it’s a decision you, as a hobbyist storyteller in a casual community, have to make and remake.

it’s okay to do it for other people sometimes. i’m including this caveat because my current project is a collaboration that i started for an audience of one, and i do make a habit of trying to put a ton of effort into all of my few collaborative enterprises. one of the reasons i gravitated toward royal simblr is that it’s a very collaborative space, but i think the best ones really do build reciprocal love for someone else’s story. if you’re going to care what other people think of your work or make choices with their opinions in mind, then i suggest doing it for people who are involved—who know what your priorities are, who love your characters, and who understand what you’re trying to do well enough that their opinions actually do make the story better. like i said, we're here to have fun, to get better, to be part of something.

okay, that's it, whoever read this far down is an angel possibly with too much time on their hands. as i said at the top, happy to be a resource or a supportive voice in whatever ways are helpful ! ♥️