#it's been kind of a daunting project though

[b-skarsgard]

Exclusive Interview: Bill Skarsgård On Making Orlok His Own In NOSFERATU

Bill Skarsgård has been in the Nosferatu loop since writer/director Robert Eggers first began conceiving it almost 10 years ago. This was before Skarsgård had his horror-star-making turn as Pennywise in It, so initially, he auditioned for the part of Friedrich Harding, friend of central couple Thomas and Ellen Hutter. Then he read for and landed the part of Thomas before the project fell apart. Nosferatu, in fact, went through a few stops and starts before finally coming to fruition, with Skarsgård ultimately taking on the titular role of the hundreds-of-years-old vampire Count Orlok.

Eggers’ reimagining of the 1922 silent landmark gives Orlok a new look but the same goal: to possess Ellen (Lily-Rose Depp) and drain the life from those around her. The film, which also stars Nicholas Hoult as Thomas, Aaron Taylor-Johnson as Harding, and Willem Dafoe as occult expert Professor Albin Eberhart Von Franz, presents Orlok as a resuscitated, centuries-old nobleman driven by obsession as much as bloodlust. (You can read more of this interview in FANGORIA #26, on sale very soon.)

read at the link or under the cut

Do you happen to know what Eggers’ change in thinking was, from seeing you in one of the heroic roles to playing the villain?

I don’t know if there are any heroic roles in the movie [laughs], apart from Ellen, in a way. I don’t know what changed in him, but that’s just how it ended up. At one point I was devastated because when it did finally look like Nosferatu was coming around for the third time, he was looking into other actors for Thomas, and then I heard that Nick got the part, and I was like, OK, what about the Harding role?

I also once read for that one. And then Aaron got it, and I was like, OK, I have to divorce myself from the idea of being part of this movie now, even though I felt so, I don’t know, destined to be a part of it. So it was a surprise and shock to me when he approached me with Orlok. In a lot of ways, it was a much more daunting task to undertake as an actor. It was as terrifying as it was exciting.

This is obviously a very different Orlok than we saw in the previous versions of Nosferatu. How did you view the character when you first took the role, and how did you develop him with Eggers?

Robert had obviously done a lot of thinking about what his Orlok would be like. And when he reached out to me about the possibility of playing him, I think he was a lot more confident that I could do it than I was [laughs]. But I was so thrilled for the opportunity, and I told him, “OK, now we’ll have to convince everyone”; we had to submit to the studio and whatnot.

We had this kind of 10-day workshop where he shared with me a lot of the material he had used for inspiration—different performances in different movies, what Orlok would have been like when he was alive, all that kind of stuff. And also how he saw Orlok’s look, which was quite specific. Then I started working on it.

I began with voice memos, and then I would send little clips of myself doing certain things. This was all before the actual screen test; it was all during COVID. Those 10 days were a very deep dive into the process of developing this guy, and proof for myself that I could do it. It was a great sort of dating phase with Robert as well, to see how we would collaborate. Auditions are usually horrible, but with this particular way of doing it, it was quite creative.

Then the movie fell apart again, so when we actually got to shoot it, I believe it had been two and a half years since I did the tape. So I almost had to restudy what I did for the tape in order to start re-prepping for the movie because, at that point, I was at the same place of, how the hell did I do this, or can I do it? I had to go through all that again, you know?

What were some of Eggers’ specific inspirations for Orlok that he shared with you, and were there any you came up with yourself?

There were a lot of different things. There was a Bulgarian movie called Time of Violence—a great movie, over four hours long, set in Bulgaria in the 17th century. And there’s this guy, the antagonist of the movie, taking over a village and forcibly converting Christians, and it’s incredibly violent and horrible. That performance was something Robert talked a lot about in terms of who Orlok could have been when he was alive. We talked about that one a lot, and various different things—little snippets from here and there.

But that was during the very early stages. Once you start delving deeper into a character, hopefully, you start getting inspiration from whatever it is you’re actually working on, and that creates seeds that come out of it. Robert also wrote a backstory for Orlok, just a few pages, that he shared with me, which was also very helpful.

You said before that there aren’t many heroes in Nosferatu except for Ellen. Would you consider Orlok a villain, or do you see him more as a tragic character?

He’s the romantic lead, isn’t he [laughs]? Yeah, it’s tricky. Is he a villain? Yeah, of course; I mean, he’s Nosferatu, he’s Dracula, he’s one of the most, if not the most iconic horror villain there is. But I think the script has nuances that make it more complex, more layered, in the sense that the movie is sort of a love triangle with Ellen in the middle. She’s torn between a good, stable, benevolent, loving husband and something that is very powerful, very destructive, but also very alluring to her, and you watch her being torn between these two forces.

How was it working with the heavy prosthetics that transformed you into Orlok?

David White did the prosthetics and the design, and he’s incredibly talented. And Stuart Richards and his wife were the ones who applied it on me every day. You tend to become very close to those people, because they’re the ones you spend the most time with when you’re playing a character like this. Just immensely talented, and very, very sweet.

And then there’s the process of getting it on for the first time and you’re like, OK, what works and what doesn’t work? How do my face and my expressions translate onto this new face that they’ve glued on top of mine? It becomes a whole process where you need to familiarize yourself with how your performance is being translated through the prosthetics. But I never felt like Orlok without the makeup, so the prosthetics and the costume were all pieces that I needed to perform him.

Since you were attached to the role for a few years, did the concept of Orlok change at all from the beginning to what we see in the final film?

Actually, not too much. Robert shared with me, when I was being considered for the role, a digital drawing he had made of Orlok, and that was pretty close to what he ended up looking like in the actual movie. Obviously, there were little changes here and there, but the essence of it, the mustache and so forth, stayed pretty close.

A lot of the character’s look is, what did a Romanian or Hungarian nobleman look like in the 16th century? As you probably know, Robert does extensive research and tries to be as historically accurate as possible in anything he does. So, the look is a representation of that. It’s a historically accurate Romanian nobleman [laughs]. And the same with the costumes. It was pretty specific, and what Orlok looks like in the movie is pretty close to what Robert initially envisioned.

Can you talk about working with Lily-Rose Depp?

It was an absolute pleasure working with Lily. I haven’t seen many people with such raw talent as she possesses, and how much she gives to the movie. It’s not an easy role at all; it was so emotionally demanding, and the way she could just turn it on every single time, take after take, was awe-inspiring.

The first few scenes I did with her, I wasn’t even acting; I was just a shadow hand behind the camera. And I could just see how gifted she was, and the nuances she brought. Then once we started doing scenes together, I couldn’t appreciate it as much because I was also performing, and we were dancing together. But she’s incredible, and an undeniable force in the movie. •

[trensu]

an excerpt of the newest chapter of the halfway house fic based on this past post. Enjoy :)

“Steve, come get your furry little menace! He’s chewing up my laces again,” Robin grumbled.

“Maybe if your laces are ruined, you’ll finally buy a new pair of shoes,” Steve snarked. Steve walked to the living room to find Robin attempting to tie her old Converse only to snatch back her hands every time the kitten took a swipe at the laces in question. “He’s just a baby. He wants to play.”

“He can get his own laces to play with, then. And there’s nothing wrong with my shoes. I’m not going to go buy new shoes when these are perfectly functional. And my favorite color.”

Steve scooped the kitten up even as he kept reaching for the laces and cuddled him to his chest. Steve rubbed gently behind the kitten’s ears until the kitten relaxed into tiny purrs.

“What do you think, Dustin? Should Robin get new shoes? Raise your paw if you agree with me,” Steve said. He lifted the kitten’s right paw and waved it a bit, making the kitten squirm. “See, he agrees with me.”

Robin snorted and rolled her eyes at his teasing smile. “I still can’t believe you named him Dustin.”

The kitten chose that moment to start climbing up Steve’s shirt to reach his shoulder. His tiny claws pricked at Steve’s skin through the thin fabric but they were so small, they barely hurt at all. Steve laughed as the kitten settled on his shoulder and began to mew at the top of his lungs.

“It’s not my fault he looks like a Dustin,” Steve insisted. When he brought the kitten home two days ago, Robin tried to name him something else but Steve put his foot down about it. He found the kitten, and he thought the kitten was a Dustin, so no other name was allowed. 

Dustin let out another mew so loud he nearly toppled over. Steve pulled him off his shoulder with an amused huff. Dustin wriggled incessantly in his hands. Steve lost his grip on him but thankfully he had gotten him close enough to the ground by then that the fall was negligible to a cat.

“Okay, okay, we’ll play for a little while, you needy baby.”

He and Robin were waiting for payday to run to the pet store for more supplies. They were lucky that their neighbor across the hall had an old litter box that her cat had outgrown, and a couple of spare food bowls. She had even given them a few cans of wet food, cooing over the kitten all the while. Dustin, apparently, was a charming little guy. He obviously took after Steve. Robin had punched him on the arm when he said as much.

In the meantime, they were using old bits of string and a little orange ball Robin had stolen back when they worked at a mini-golf place. The kitten seemed to enjoy them well enough but Steve planned on getting him fancier playthings and some catnip. He rolled the ball across the floor and the kitten chased after it. He pounced on it, wobbly, which sent the ball rolling again for another chase. Steve laughed. Robin giggled along with him.

“He’s lucky he’s adorable. Otherwise we’d be having problems, him and I,” Robin said with a grin. Her mischievous demeanor softened slightly. “I’m glad you found him, you big old softie. Now you can stop moping so much.”

Steve ducked away when she reached to ruffle his hair. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve said, lightheartedly. “Maybe if I do a good job with him, someone will finally let me have a kid.” 

The kitten had apparently gotten bored of the ball and was attempting to climb up the back of the couch. Steve quickly grabbed him so he would damage the upholstery. He booped the kitten’s nose.

“What do you think, baby? Will I be a good dad? Be honest.”

Dustin grabbed his finger and gnawed at it while making the most precious sounds. A purring mew.  Steve’s heart melted; though from what he had read, he really shouldn’t let Dustin get accustomed to using his hands as playthings.

Steve resigned himself to losing half his paycheck to cat toys.

Continue on Ao3

ps: i do not do reader tag lists or whatever those things are called. i tag all my writing with 'trensu tells stories' so please just follow that tag if you wanna keep up with my stuff, thank you

[colleendoran]

Great Big Good Omens Graphic Novel Update

AKA A Visit From Bildad the Shuhite.

The past year or so has been one long visit from this guy, whereupon he smiteth my goats and burneth my crops, woe unto the woeful cartoonist.

Gaze upon the horror of Bildad the Shuhite.

You kind of have to be a Good Omens fan to get this joke, but trust me, it's hilarious.

Anyway, as a long time Good Omens novel fan, you may imagine how thrilled I was to get picked to adapt the graphic novel.

 Go me!  

This is quite a task, I have to say, especially since I was originally going to just draw (and color) it, but I ended up writing the adaptation as well. Tricky to fit a 400 page novel into a 160-ish page graphic novel, especially when so much of the humor is dependent on the language, and not necessarily on the visuals.

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Anyway, I started out the gate like a herd of turtles, because  right away I got COVID which knocked me on my butt. 

And COVID brain fog? That's a thing. I already struggle with brain fog due to autoimmune disease, and COVID made it worse.

Not complainin' just sayin'.

This set a few of the assignments on my plate back, which pushed starting Good Omens back. 

But hey, big fat lead time! No worries!

Then my computer crawled toward the grave.

My trusty MAC Pro Tower was nearly 15 years old when its sturdy heart ground to a near-halt with daily crashes. I finally got around to doing some diagnostics; some of its little brain actions were at 5% functionality. I had no reliable backups.

There are so many issues with getting a new computer when you haven't had a new computer or peripherals in nearly fifteen years and all of your software, including your Photoshop program is fifteen years old.

At the time, I was still on rural internet...which means dial-up speed.

Whatever you have for internet in the city, roll that clock back to about 2001.

That's what I had. I not only had to replace almost all of my hardware but I had to load and update all programs at dial-up speed.

Welcome to my gigabyte hell.

The entire process of replacing the equipment and programs took weeks and then I had to relearn all the software.

All of this was super expensive in terms of money and time cost.

But I was not daunted! Nosirree!

I still had a huge lead time! I can do anything! I have an iron will!

And boy, howdy, I was going to need it.

At about the same time, a big fatcat quadrillionaire client who had hired me years ago to develop a big, major transmedia project for which I was paid almost entirely in stock, went bankrupt leaving everyone holding the bag, and taking a huge chunk of my future retirement fund with it.

I wrote a very snarky almost hilarious Patreon post about it, but am not entirely in a position to speak freely because I don't want to get sued. Even though I had to go to court over it, (and I had to do that over Zoom at dial-up speed,) I'm pretty sure I'll never get anything out of this drama, and neither will anyone else involved, except millionaire dude and his buddies who all walked away with huge multi-million dollar bonuses weeks before they declared bankruptcy, all the while claiming they would not declare bankruptcy.

Even the accountant got $250,000 a month to shut down the business, while creators got nothing.

That in itself was enough drama for the year, but we were only at February by that point, and with all those months left, 2023 had a lot more to throw at me.

Fresh from my return from my Society of Illustrators show, and a lovely time at MOCCA, it was time to face practical medical issues, health updates, screening, and the like. I did my adult duty and then went back to work hoping for no news, but still had a weird feeling there would be news.

I know everyone says that, but I mean it. I had a bad feeling.

Then there was news.

I was called back for tests and more tests. This took weeks. The ubiquitous biopsy looked, even to me staring at the screen in real time, like bad news. 

It also hurt like a mofo after the anesthesia wore off. I wasn't expecting that.

Then I got the official bad news.

Cancer which runs in my family finally got me. Frankly, I was surprised I didn't get it sooner.

Stage 0, and treatment would likely be fast and complication-free. Face the peril, get it over with, and get back to work. 

I requested surgery months in the future so I could finish Good Omens first, but my doc convinced me the risk of waiting was too great. Get it done now.

"You're really healthy," my doc said. Despite an auto-immune issue which plagues me, I am way healthier than the average schmoe of late middle age. She informed me I would not even need any chemo or radiation if I took care of this now.

So I canceled my appearance at San Diego Comic Con. I did not inform the Good Omens team of my issues right away, thinking this would not interfere with my work schedule, but I did contact my agent to inform her of the issue. I also contacted a lawyer to rewrite my will and make sure the team had access to my digital files in case there were complications.

Then I got back to work, and hoped for the best.

Eff this guy.

Before I could even plant my carcass on the surgery table, I got a massive case of ocular shingles.

I didn't even know there was such a thing. 

There I was, minding my own business. I go to bed one night with a scratchy eye, and by 4 PM the next day, I was in the emergency room being told if I didn't get immediate specialist treatment, I was in big trouble.

I got transferred to another hospital and got all the scary details, with the extra horrid news that I could not possibly have cancer surgery until I was free of shingles, and if I did not follow a rather brutal treatment procedure - which meant super-painful  eye drops every half hour, twenty-four hours a day and daily hospital treatment - I could lose the eye entirely, or be blinded, or best case scenario, get permanent eye damage.

What was even funnier (yeah, hilarity) is the drops are so toxic if you don't use the medication just right, you can go blind anyway.

Hi Ho.

Ulcer is on the right. That big green blob.

I had just finished telling my cancer surgeon I did not even really care about getting cancer, was happy it was just stage zero, had no issues with scarring, wanted no reconstruction, all I cared about was my work. 

Just cut it out and get me back to work.

And now I wondered if I was going to lose my ability to work anyway.

Shingles often accompanies cancer because of the stress on the immune system, and yeah, it's not pretty. This is me looking like all heck after I started to get better.

The first couple of weeks were pretty demoralizing as I expected a straight trajectory to wellness. But it was up and down all the way. 

Some days I could not see out of either eye at all. The swelling was so bad that I had to reach around to my good eye to prop the lid open. Light sensitivity made seeing out of either eye almost impossible. Outdoors, even with sunglasses, I had to be led around by the hand.

I had an amazing doctor. I meticulously followed his instructions, and I think he was surprised I did. The treatment is really difficult, and if you don't do it just right no matter how painful it gets, you will be sorry. 

To my amazement, after about a month, my doctor informed me I had no vision loss in the eye at all. "This never happens," he said.

I'd spent a couple of weeks there trying to learn to draw in the near-dark with one eye, and in the end, I got all my sight back.

I could no longer wear contact lenses (I don't really wear them anyway, unless I'm going to the movies,) would need hard core sun protection for awhile, and the neuralgia and sun sensitivity were likely to linger. But I could get back to work.

I have never been more grateful in my life.

Neuralgia sucks, by the way, I'm still dealing with it months later.

Anyway, I decided to finally go ahead and tell the Good Omens team what was going on, especially since this was all happening around the time the Kickstarter was gearing up.

Now that I was sure I'd passed the eye peril, and my surgery for Stage 0 was going to be no big deal, I figured all was a go. I was still pretty uncomfortable and weak, and my ideal deadline was blown, but with the book not coming out for more than a year, all would be OK. I quit a bunch of jobs I had lined up to start after Good Omens, since the project was going to run far longer than I'd planned.

Everybody on the team was super-nice, and I was pretty optimistic at this time. But work was going pretty slow during, as you may imagine.

But again...lots of lead time still left, go me.

Then I finally got my surgery.

Which was not as happy an experience as I had been hoping for.

My family said the doc came out of the operating room looking like she'd been pulled backwards through a pipe, She informed them the tumor which looked tiny on the scan was "...huge and her insides are a mess."

Which was super not fun news.

Eff this guy.

The tumor was hiding behind some dense tissue and cysts. After more tests, it was determined I'd need another surgery and was going to have to get further treatments after all.

The biopsy had been really painful, but the discomfort was gone after about a week, so no biggee. The second surgery was, weirdly, not as painful as the biopsy, but the fatigue was big time.

By then, the Good Omens Kickstarter had about run its course, and the record-breaker was both gratifying and a source of immense social pressure.

I'd already turned most of my social media over to an assistant, and I'm glad I did.

But the next surgery was what really kicked me on my keister.

All in all, they took out an area the size of a baseball. It was  hard to move and wiped me out for weeks and weeks. I could not take care of myself. I'd begun losing hair by this time anyway, and finally just lopped it off since it was too heavy for me to care for myself. The cut hides the bald spots pretty well.

After about a month, I got the go-ahead to travel to my show at the San Diego Comic Con Museum (which is running until the first week of April, BTW). I was very happy I had enough energy to do it. But as soon as I got back, I had to return to treatment.

Since I live way out in the country, going into the city to various hospitals and pharmacies was a real challenge. I made more than 100 trips last year, and a drive to the compounding pharmacy which produced the specialist eye medicine I could not get anywhere else was six hours alone.

Naturally, I wasn't getting anything done during this time.

But at least my main hospital is super swank.

The oncology treatment went smoothly, until it didn't. The feels don't hit you until the end. By then I was flattened.

So flattened that I was too weak to control myself, fell over, and smashed my face into some equipment.

Nearly tore off my damn nostril.

Eff this guy.

Anyway, it was a bad year.

Here's what went right.

I have a good health insurance policy. The final tally on my health care costs ended up being about $150,000. I paid about 18% of that, including insurance. I had a high deductible and some experimental medicine insurance didn't cover. I had savings,  enough to cover the months I wasn't working, and my Patreon is also very supportive. So you didn't see me running a Gofundme or anything.

Thanks to everyone who ever bought one of my books.

No, none of that money was Good Omens Kickstarter money. I won't get most of my pay on that for months, which is just as well because it kept my taxes lower last year when I needed a break.

So, yay.

My nose is nearly healed. I opted out of plastic surgery, and it just sealed up by itself. I'll never be ready for my closeup, but who the hell cares.

I got to ring the bell.

I had a very, VERY hard time getting back to work, especially with regard to focus and concentration. My work hours dropped by over 2/3. I was so fractured and weak, time kept slipping away while I sat in the studio like a zombie. Most of the last six months were a wash.

I assumed focus issues were due (in part) to stress, so sought counseling. This seemed like a good idea at first, but when the counselor asked me to detail my issues with anxiety, I spent two weeks doing just that and getting way more anxious, which was not helpful.

After that I went EFF THIS NOISE, I want practical tools, not touchy feelies (no judgment on people who need touchy-feelies, I need a pragmatic solution and I need it now,) so tried using the body doubling focus group technique for concentration and deep work.

Within two weeks, I returned to normal work hours.

I got rural broadband, jumping me from dial up speed to 1 GB per second.

It's a miracle.

Massive doses of Vitamin D3 and K2. Yay.

The new computer works great.

The Kickstarter did so well, we got to expand the graphic novel to 200 pages. Double yay.

I'm running late, but everyone on the Good Omens team is super supportive. I don't know if I am going to make the book late or not, but if I do, well, it surely wasn't on purpose, and it won't be super late anyway. I still have months of lead time left.

I used to be something of a social media addict, but now I hardly ever even look at it, haven't been directly on some sites in over a year, and no longer miss it. It used to seem important and now doesn't.

More time for real life.

While I think the last year aged me about twenty years, I actually like me better with short hair. I'm keeping it.

OK. Rough year. 

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Back to work on The Book.

And only a day left to vote for Good Omens, Neil Gaiman, and Sandman in the Comicscene Awards. Thanks. 

[justporo]

Office Hours

Author's Note: This - this is finally the promised wizard smut with Professor Gale Dekarios. I've written this as a fill for Kinktober Challenge. Please enjoy, while I go bury myself. I'm so excited to hear your feedback, because writing this was daunting. Happy Halloween!

Summary: You took up a PhD project under the infamous Professor for Wizardry Gale Dekarios but you also have a huge crush on him. Stuff getting a little heated at a party could almost ruin your future though. Things between you and Professor Dekarios are tense from there on out - until you go to confront him about it. (All characters are over 18!)

Pairing: Professor!Gale / Fem!Tav (You) Rating: Explicit Warnings: explicit sexual content! Wordcount: 8,2k (I'm so sorry...)

~~~

Another shot of tequila was placed in front of you.

“Bottom’s up, love!”, Astarion cheerfully exclaimed and clanked his own shot against yours. You drunkenly turned your head towards him. As always when you went for a night out with your best friend, he kept putting drinks (and a reasonable amount of water in between) in front of you while he barely seemed to get drunk.

“We’re not even bothering with salt and lem-lemons anymore?”, you drawled sluggishly. It was time to stop soon as long as you were still able to remember what you were doing.

Astarion didn’t even reply just kept swaying to the beat of the current song blasting through the club and clinked his glass against yours again to make you take it. And so you did.

You both threw your drinks back and shuddered when the liquor ran down your throats. “You’re really pushing me tonight, Astarion”, you screamed over the loud blasting music.

“Yeah well”, he shrugged as his eyes wandered back to the dancefloor and the hunk of a man he’d been dancing with almost the whole night – at least when you hadn’t danced with him.

“It’s not every day that my bestie has to celebrate that renowned PhD position with the infamous Professor Dekarios, is it?”, Astarion screamed back at you.

And it was true, it most definitely wasn’t every day. Because not only did you get the approval of the prodigy professor who was famously known for being strict and very demanding to be your supervisor. But you were the only one he’d taken on for a PhD project since… well, since he was in the position to do so it seemed. he’d t

But you had thus far always excelled in his classes. You’d been the very role model student during your time here.

And sure, you had worked your ass off for it, but it was well worth it. A finished PhD under a prodigy such as Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep would open you every door in the wizarding world.

It might also have helped that you had a huge crush on Professor Dekarios. The way this man spoke passionately about all things Wizardry and Weave had captured you from the very beginning. Just how his whole demeanor changed when he started talking about his research and how passionate he became. The way his eyes lit up when he got to talk about his work.

And then also: how he absent-mindedly let his hands wander through his hair when he was thinking about how to word something. How he let his thumb wander over his bottom lip as he intently listened to one of your questions and praised you afterwards for how clever it had been.

It was safe to say you had found yourself daydreaming about what else that man could do with that eloquent mouth of his more than once. Or how it would be if he praised you for more than just your smartass little questions.

“You know he’s here tonight, don’t you? Since it’s a faculty party”, Astarion kept on yelling into your ear, already grabbing the shot glasses to go get more.

“WHAT?”, you screamed – and this time it was clearly audible over the music in the club. You stared at Astarion in shock.

“Love, it’s your faculty and you brought me here, might I add. Shouldn’t you know about this kind of stuff? I saw him when I went to the bar”, Astarion yelled back with a mocking grin. Then he was off again with a naughty wink to get new drinks.

He was right. He was actually a history PhD student and had nothing to do with your wizarding studies. And still he always seemed to be better informed about these gossipy bits of information.

You gulped when you were reminded of what kind of revealing dress you were wearing tonight – black, short, low cut waterfall neckline. The thought that Professor Dekarios might have seen you in it and how you had danced in it – it scared you and excited you at the same time.

The fact that you were already solidly drunk definitely meant that it was leaning more towards the latter.

And then, sure as all Hells, you saw him: Professor Gale Dekarios walking into this part of club.

He looked a little out of place with his slacks and shirt-sweater combination – totally dressed for teaching, grading and researching and not for going down at the club.

Dekarios walked over to some people standing in a loose circle – people you realised now were other faculty members. You watched him intently – noticing the little details while you were drowned by increasingly unhinged thoughts. You saw that his shirt wasn’t neatly tugged in anymore, one hand was casually in his pocket while the other held a glass of red wine nonchalantly by the rim – letting it hang by his side. Sometime during conversation, he absent-mindedly dragged his hand through his hair. He always did that when he was deep in thought or having one of his passionate scholarly monologues during a lecture.

For all the scholarly nerdiness (and sometimes cute awkwardness) this man possessed – he was effortlessly sexy when he felt relaxed it seemed. And man, were you down bad for him.

You were still staring at Dekarios’ butt – that actually looked formidable in his slacks - when Astarion returned and slid another drink over to you. He saw how absent-mindedly you were staring off into the distance and tried to figure out what you were looking at.

When he did, a feral grin split his face: “Honestly, I’d fuck him if given the chance.”

“Astarion!” You whacked his arm as you were ripped out of your stupor.

“Don’t act like that, sweetheart, I know you would get on your knees so quickly for that man. I’ve had to listen to your horny yearnings for two years, remember?”

You blushed because he was right – as he sadly mostly was. The shit-eating grin stayed firmly on Astarion’s stupid face as he looked at you

“Yeah, as if anything would ever happen”, you simply retorted then, not wanting to indulge your friend’s insolent behaviour any further.

“And yet you keep wearing sluttly little outfits to all his classes”, Astarion drawled and his eyebrow twitched while he called you out. “I do believe even wizards have eyes to see what is right in front of them – even though it’s mostly just books.”

“That coming from a godsdamned history student is really low”, you replied and left it at that.

You were not having this conversation right now. So you settled for whacking Astarion’s arm again - which made him hiss at you that he hadn’t even said anything anymore -  and then grabbing the drink he’d brought you, downing it in one go.

“Maybe instead of calling me out you could double down on your other best friend duties and go dance with me again?”, you suggested after suppressing a shudder from the downed alcohol.

Astarion just replied with grinning at you and stretched out his arm in an elegant gesture towards the dancefloor, motioning you to get going then.

You went and danced, having even some more drinks while doing that. That man built like a massive tree eventually joined the two of you as he had been dancing with Astarion before. He introduced himself as Halsin and told you that he was a visiting researcher – only staying for a little while at your institution.

You exchanged some small talk per screaming while on the dancefloor. But shortly after it was back to your best friend Astarion and him dancing and eventually even making out with each other.

You didn’t mind at all – in fact you were happy Astarion seemed to enjoy himself. And you happily let them have their space and just let yourself be taken by the music.

You swayed and rocked to the beats, lifted your arms and rolled your hips – enjoying how good the movements made you feel.

A soft buzz coming from your hip and the tiny bag swinging there made you look at your phone after a while. It was Astarion.

“Gonna leave with our new friend if that’s ok with u? Wanna make sure he remembers his time here well!”

Gods, even after a night out with lots of drinking Astarion was still wasting time on being eloquent.

“Go get it bestie”, you simply replied and grinned at yourself. You were already excited to hear about it afterwards when you next up with Astarion for a coffee or something.

You received one more text from Astarion asking you to text him when you got home safely. You agreed with a quick text and then went back to dancing.

All the booze you’ve had was giving you the confidence to keep going on the dancefloor even though the club was finally emptying bit by bit. The songs played were less popular now but therefore more enthralling and so you let yourself get dragged along by the music.

Until you opened your eyes and saw that you were being watched. And not by just anyone.

A bit off the dance floor Professor Dekarios was sitting on his own now in one of the leather seats there, his legs spread. He was holding another glass of red wine, carefully placed on one of the armrests. His other hand was at his chin – motionless though. You could see his single earring glint in the flickering club lights. His one side of hair was fanned out around his head.

He sat there like a statue – just very intently staring at you, giving you an immediate feeling of being stripped bare before him. He wasn’t even reacting to you catching him staring.

At least that was what you thought. But then you noticed the prominent bulge between his legs, straining against the fabric of his slacks.

Your lips parted in silent surprise and you immediately felt how your nipples hardened and rubbed against your dress in arousal. You gulped and wet your lips while your whole mouth suddenly felt overwhelmingly dry.

When you looked up again you saw just the slightest sparkle in the eyes of your observer.

And that – probably in combination with all the liquid courage you had consumed tonight - was enough to get you going again.

Knowing the audience, you then began to dance again – putting in even more effort than before: fluid motions, making your hips roll more prominently, dragging up the skirt of your dress just a little too much as you turned around to give him a view of your back.

You let your hands wander up your front when you turned around again, deliberately letting them linger on your breasts and squeezing them as you dragged your hands up and feeling them softly jiggle when you let them go again.

When you looked at your watcher you saw how he had leaned forward slightly in his seat now. Bulge now even more prominently outlined against his pants if that was even possible. His thumb wandering over the bottom lip of his open mouth as he watched you – just like he did when you asked an incredibly smart question in one of his courses.

You were feeling feverish and heedlessly aroused, probably dripping wet too. The thought of just sauntering over and sitting on his lap and pushing your boobs in his face crossed your mind as you turned around again to give him more opportunity to stare at your ass.

And when you turned around again…

The spell was broken. Someone had come over to Dekarios and engaged him in conversation. You saw how he had awkwardly placed his one arm over where his testament of arousal was probably still clearly obvious. He didn’t acknowledge you with a single glance anymore.

And you felt like someone had poured ice cold water over you. The heat of desire and lust quickly replaced with the heat of burning shame. You felt cheap suddenly and very self-conscious. At least the club was so empty now that mostly anyone else wouldn’t have noticed – or they’d been way too out of it to care.

You stormed off the dancefloor and out of the club, already regretting how you had it let come to this. Hoping you wouldn’t have just ruined everything you’ve worked so hard for.

Six months later…

Stuff had mostly went backwards and downhill from that party night on. Although Astarion had congratulated you and while he had wheezed and applauded you when you had told him about what had happened after he'd left. But you had barely been able to eat up your shame to resume attending Professor Dekarios’ lectures. Your keen sense of duty being the only thing that forced you back there after you had allowed yourself to miss a few classes because you wouldn’t have been able to handle it at all.

And when you had finally managed you had been smitten with completely being ignored by the man itself. He rarely acknowledged you anymore in his lectures, brushed over your questions and avoided you at every cost. That meant barely any eye contact, not even when he had to speak to you in public, no communication on your research project whatsoever and he mysteriously managed to never meet you walking around campus.

You had felt guilty and afraid at first – fearing that at some point you would just receive a formal letter that told you that you and your appointed studies were dropped without further notice.

But when that didn’t happen, you couldn't also help to feel at least a smidge of anger whenever you thought about it: obviously you had been trying to commit yourself to forget what had happened and start working on your research project. Why did he have to insist on making it awkward?

You wouldn't bring up the topic, certainly. You were prepared to just act like nothing ever happened at all – even if you would remember it every single time you looked at the man. Forever reminded of the shame of that moment; but also: the desire he had looked at you with and the lust you had felt for him.

But you'd be lying to yourself if you didn’t admit that you were mostly just majorly worried. Not only because of how he was behaving towards you in public but also because of how it impacted your project. Not once had you spoken about your planned research.

So you had started on it alone. Spent countless hours researching literature, trying to find the right focus for your project, marking off topics and theories. You had worked on your exposé for the last couple of months now – once you had gotten over the fear of just being dropped like a hot potato. And you had sent it in weeks ago and not received a single shred of feedback. Which meant that, despite being pretty sure that you did good work and put in the necessary thought, finesse and care to let it live up to Professor Dekarios’ standards, you were worried sick that you wouldn’t be able to go anywhere with it.

You really feared that what you had thought first after the party had become true: you fucked up your once in a lifetime chance at breakthrough research about the Weave. And on top of that you had ruined your relationship with someone you deeply admired.

But recently shame and guilt had mostly subsided to allow feelings of rising anger. You came back to the thought of how ridiculously he behaved: if you were an adult about it all you would have hoped he would be too. If he would even talk to you at all – you’d take being screamed over this horrible silent treatment any day.

And after sulking in your own misery for way too long, you found it was time to confront him finally. You probably wouldn't exactly be the bigger person about it - but at least you wouldn't be the one running away.

When the next date for his office hours came around, you threw on some of the nicest clothes you had. A low cut blouse and faux-leather pencil skirt you knew your ass looked amazing in - at least Astarion always whistled and affectionately slapped your butt anytime he saw you wearing it.

You knew you were absolutely pushing it but that was exactly what you wanted: forcing this godsdamned prodigy wizard to man up and either tell you off for good or just... settle the unfinished business. Either way would be fine for you by now, you just wanted to be out of this limbo state.

You made your way over campus to his office, in your head already riling yourself up to be appropriately angry when you confronted him. Stomping over the university grounds while you imagined countless scenarios and outcomes and already felt good about your decision to finally take action.

But your righteous fury hit some bumps quickly.

The first thing that took you aback was the small sticky note at his office door telling anyone to just come in and that he'd be back very soon.

This was almost enough already to take the wind out of your sails completely. You had hoped to throw open his door dramatically and scream at him to either give you proper feedback on your exposé or just stick it up his godsdamned wizard arse.

You swallowed and tried to retain your anger as you opened the door.

You had only been to his office a few times before you had taken up the PhD project.

It was beautiful, a dream for anyone who was in love with magic and books and studying: the walls were lined with dark bookshelves and loads of magical trinkets, just anything imaginable. Even though dark wood dominated the room it wasn’t gloomy but rather cozy and welcoming.

The eye was quickly drawn to the huge wooden desk centred at the back with a huge window behind it. Stacked on it were books and papers. Dekarios believed in being old school when it came to his studies and work, you knew as much.

You were in awe - and absolutely jealous.

"Hello visitor, Mr Dekarios has just gone out to get coffee", you heard a voice from somewhere behind the desk.

You were only shortly confused because the voice quickly turned out to be Tara, Professor Dekarios' tressym that lived with him, when the gentle beast jumped up on the desk. Only once before had you had the pleasure of speaking with her - she was truly a gentle and very sweet soul.

"He will be back sho-. Oh, it's you!", she said and interrupted herself. Her long fluffy tail started swish-swishing behind her while she sat down on the very middle of the desk. Her yellow cat eyes observed you cautiously – but not unfriendly.

Your brows furrowed. You couldn't believe though that the small creature would actually remember you from just speaking with you once.

But it seemed the tressym had read your mind on that because she angled her head as you came closer and then said: "Mr Dekarios speaks a lot about you, you know."

You would have given a good amount of gold to be able to read the expression on the cat's face better.

"He does?", you answered dumbfoundedly. "Because he hasn't really talked to me in actual months." The fluffy tail flicked forcefully around once when you said that but then Tara just kept looking at you.

"Of course, he does! He basically never shuts up about you. And I'm pretty sure he almost never stops thinking about you either, it's uh-"

The tressym's tail flicked around even more and she worked her front paws around, almost as if she was shuffling around awkwardly.

"A bit unnerving sometimes", Tara finished and cocked her head again, looking up at you curiously.

You felt yourself blush and desperately tried not to think too much about what the creature could have meant.

"Although, I have to say, I fear you kind of messed with his mind that night some months ago even though he wouldn't tell me exactly what had made him so... upset. And then of course he had his own bad experiences in the past when he was in your position. But Mr Dekarios tends to forget that he's quite a different person than his former... acquaintance."

You could barely believe your ears. Also you were probably absolutely tomato red from your neck up. You did not exactly know what had happened to the anger you had come here with, but it surely wasn't present anymore - at least for the time being.

The fact that you seemingly were a predominant thing on the mind of your professor was disarming to say the least. And also you had the feeling that the tressym had just let you in on some quite personal stuff about Professor Dekarios although you could not make sense of any of it.

When he had been in your position? Former acquaintance? What was that supposed to mean?

The subject matter chose this exact moment to enter the scene.

"Tara has anyone...", Professor Gale Dekarios said while he flung open his office door with a coffee in his other hand.

His mouth immediately snapped shut again when he spotted you as you had turned around at the sound of the opening door.

You stared at each other for a very long moment.

"I'll leave you two alone, excuse me", Tara said cheerfully, jumped off the desk and sauntered out of the room through the door that was still being held open by the wizard. You weren’t entirely sure but you thought you heard Tara hiss “be nice to her, I like her” in passing to her wizard before she slipped out the door.

Tara's departure helped you both out of your stupor. Dekarios closed the door behind himself and awkwardly kept standing around at the entrance of his office. Meanwhile you crossed your arms over your chest and felt at least some of the anger return at the sight of him.

"Tav", he said. His tone was defeated and you could see his shoulders visibly slump. It easily ignited the rest of your fury in you again.

"Professor Dekarios", you almost spat.

"Please. Just call me Gale."

And snap - the anger was gone again. It was ridiculous how easily this man could change your mood just like that.

Gale started to walk over to you as you noticed that he was wearing almost the same thing he had that night at the club. You couldn’t help but blush.

The wizard's brown eyes were filled with a wild mix of emotions you couldn’t quite interpret as he came closer. He ran his free hand through his hair in a nervous gesture, making his single earring swing around as he brushed against it accidentally.

You swallowed and lifted up your chin - not wanting to give in to him and his beaten puppy behaviour.

"I guess it was about time we talked, wasn't it?", Gale said when he was standing almost right in front of you.

He leaned around you to put down his coffee in a to-go cup on his desk.

You couldn't help but to catch his scent: soft cologne, the smell of books, the fresh coffee he had been carrying. Involuntarily your lips parted.

But you quickly bit down on them, you wouldn't lose composure now.

"You think?", you spat when some anger flared up again. You immediately regretted it. The last time you had your whimsical emotions take over had been the instance to get you in all the mess.

The anger was mirrored in Gale's eyes for a short few moments. Then he calmed down again quickly and just sighed defeatedly.

"You're angry with me", he simply said. His voice was deep and warm. He was now standing directly in front of you. His gaze directly on you. And you saw how his eyes flicked down and up again. Several times.

You felt that you lost the grip on your anger with the way he looked at you so sadly. So you decided to make a last ditch effort before you would probably just break down crying or running from his office – and all of this would have been for naught.

"Yes, I am angry with you", you almost yelled at him. And you forced yourself to be done with being taken aback by small details now.

Before you could think better of it you launched into the rant you had long prepared: "You took me in as you're PhD student, so you promised to help and supervise me with my research. I worked my ass off in the last months. I sent you my exposé which is - as you might know as a scholar yourself - quite critical to get started, or find scholarships for that matter. I did a lot of research already. I had countless sleepless nights. My caffeine intake has become more than unhealthy. And never ONCE did I receive an ounce of your help." You really made yourself more enraged now as you kept talking. Finally letting it all out felt incredibly freeing.

Gale's eyes mirrored what you were feeling. You were certain, he was probably just as upset as you, but you couldn't care less in this moment.

"And if all of this is caused by that one night at the club, the fucking faculty party, might I tell you: seriously, fuck you! I've seen exactly how you looked at me! I didn’t just make an arse of myself, you did too! And if you can’t handle that fact, either tell me to just go fuck off and I'll be gone or man up and stop avoiding me or..."

You let the last part hang up in the air.

Gale's eyes were ablaze by now. He stepped in closer to you. You had never seen him be this intense. Not even when he was talking about his most passionate areas of his work.

"Do you really think I act like this because it is fun for me?", he snapped at you, his tone had taken on an authoritative tone. A tone that usually only came out when he was putting someone in his place – the scholarly way.

He kept walking towards you, making you take steps back. "You might think it was easy for me the last couple of months. But I had to look at you, every godsdamned lecture when you wear stuff like this." He gesticulated at your outfit, licking his lips and letting his eyes drop to your dangerously deep neckline. "Making me remember how you danced for me that night. Making me think of what might have happened." You stumbled against the edge of his desk, unable to keep your distance from him now.

And he was still coming closer, until you almost lost your balance trying to keep some space between the two of you, almost falling onto the piece of furniture behind you. You could already feel the heat his body was giving off.

He still didn’t stop, until there was in fact not a mere inch between you and his body pressed against yours even though you tried to lean back on the table.

"I am only trying to protect you", Gale continued his tone now pleading, his eyes soft and full of worry – but not hiding what lay beneath that. He was so close you could see every little detail of him: the lines of the mysterious tattoo swirling over his neck and cheek, the scruff of his beard, his soft eyes and the strands of grey in his hair, the subtle wrinkles around his eyes or the worry lines on his forehead.

But this made you angry again. Who was he to tell you what you needed protection from? But then you shortly remembered Tara's words – a flash through your mind.

But you were set on your course now. The way your body reacted to the closeness of this man you’ve had so many fantasies about being the proof you hadn’t really needed anyway.

And before you could try and think better of it you exclaimed: “Or – instead of patronising me – you could do us both a favour and just fuck me, so we can both get the hells over with it!”

You were shocked by your own courage and rashness, but it was quite apparent that this man made you do things: once that night in the club, now – not to mention that he was a major part of why you chose to pursue a PhD in the first place.

Gale’s mouth dropped open in astonishment and surprise for a moment, a sound somewhere between gasp and moan left his lips.

Then he regained his senses, desire flashing in his eyes, and he flipped you over, bending you over the desk.

It was your turn to gasp and moan in surprise. You barely caught yourself with your arms, accidentally pushing off some papers and books in the process. Also knocking over the cup of coffee that just fell on the floor and spilled on the floor.

Gale immediately secured your position against his desk with his own body, pressing his hips against your backside you hoped looked just as delicious as you had planned now.

Your thoughts on that immediately disappeared though when you felt Gale’s erection press against your ass. He was already rock-hard, making you gasp more.

“Are you really sure this is what you want?”, he asked with a husky voice. You merely managed to nod and let out a breathy moan, enjoying how quickly had turned around again – this time in your absolute favour.

“Gods know I really want to see what that brain of yours can do but I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t admit that I have to say the same thing about your delectable butt you keep presenting to me”, Gale admitted in a haughty voice as he pressed himself harder against you, making the edge of the desk deliciously bite into your thighs.

You swallowed when what was happening started to settle in rationally – not just carnally. At the same time you could feel how helplessly needy you already felt, how lust pooled between your legs and flooded back again through your whole body. You had thought about this for so long but now being at his mercy felt better than anything your mind could have come up with.

Gale’s hands wandered over your ass in your skirt but the caress was still hesitant, although you could feel that the wizard was already breathing raggedly – the rise and fall of his body pressing you harder against the wood.

“Are you really sure you want to do this? Say it. Please!”, Gale whispered hoarsely, asking you again, although you could already feel how he had started to move one of his legs in between your thighs now and how his hands had wandered below the hem of your skirt and readied themselves to hike it up.

You pushed yourself up from the desk, turning around to him give him the most incredulous of looks: “I had six months to decide if I was sure about this, Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep. I was probably already sure of it when I saw you sitting in this nightclub flaunting a major erection and I made my boobs jiggle for you! I came here dressed like THIS.” You almost yelled at him. How did this idiot have you bent over his godsdamned desk and still hadn’t gotten the fucking memo?

“Well, no need to yell at me – I can hear you quite perfectly from here, thank you”, Gale replied and threw on his snappy professor voice that usually only those students got that annoyed him. He slapped your butt too and made you shut up really quickly before you could make a sassy remark.

Then he turned around slightly and you saw how he effortlessly used mage hand to turn the lock on the door. And with a quick incantation it began to glow also. You knew that spell and knew also that it wasn’t an easy feat to accomplish. Your mouth fell open.

When Gale turned back around again he took a deep breath and ran one of his hands through his hair, closing his eyes for a short moment and making the strands of brown with some grey fan around his face – all while still having you immobile between his body and his desk. Your mouth felt dry watching him do that – just casually locking you in his office with him; with one of the most powerful lock spells known to the wizarding world. And he didn’t even blink.

“There”, Gale simply said and rolled the tongue around in his mouth, letting it click once. “Point of no return now because the door is locked and sealed, is that what you wanted?”

You didn’t reply just stared at him hungrily, the lust inside basically becoming feral. You were still only turned half around, pushing up on the surface of the desk. You used the little space for movement you had and rubbed your ass against Gale’s crotch hoping that that would convey your answer to his question.

The wizard groaned and you watched his eyes roll back when he felt the friction against his erection.

“Do you even have an idea how many times I dreamt of this? Of this exact scenario?”, Gale pressed out as you felt the tingle of magic suddenly at your back and you noticed what must be another mage hand wander up your spine, softly caressing you, stroking up to the nape of your neck and curling itself in your hair.

Meanwhile Gale’s real hands were both free to hike up your skirt slowly, the feeling of his fingertips on your naked thighs making you shiver in anticipation.

“Do you know how many times I did?”, you gave back teasingly.

The mage hand in your hair yanked on it and the wizard’s hand came down on your butt again – a lot harder this time. You moaned helplessly as you felt jolts from the pleasureful pain run through your body and incinerating the fire inside you even more.

“This is not a competition!” There was the professor voice again. You tried to rub your butt against him again and earned another firm slap on your behind. Oh, you could keep going just like this for literal hours.

You heard Gale softly chuckle and then moan at your increasingly unhinged state. It seemed he was finally getting into this instead of worrying about you. And this is exactly what you wanted.

And then, to your surprise, you felt another instance of mage hand starting to wander over your body – dragging up one of your arms with which you had been supporting yourself so far and pressing it onto your back.

“In fact, do you know how many times you made me lock myself in my office after lectures because you always sit there, first row, wearing something that makes me stare at your breasts and then ask the most brilliant questions?”, Gale drawled, his voice dangerously low now. The one hand in your hair tugged on it again, making you lift up your head and look at the professor.

“I don’t know, did I?”, you answered and bit your lips and tried to turn around a little so you could force the aforementioned breasts into his field of view.

Your insolent behaviour earned you another slap and low growl from the wizard before he thrust his hips against you and made you fall prone on the desk surface now.

A third mage hand then started to work on your body, pushing you down until your chest was firmly held down on the desk. Then it grabbed your other arm until both of them were firmly held behind your back, meaning you were now absolutely immobilized and at the wizard’s mercy.

Your boobs were squished against the wooden surface, hurting in a way that was just the right amount to pleasure you. You whimpered in pleasure and closed your eyes trying to maximise your awareness of your body pressed against his.

You knew that you were dripping wet now. And you were desperate to let Gale find that one out.

“I believe, you need to be put into your place for all that, don’t you agree?”, Gale groaned as his hands finally dragged up your skirt over your buttcheeks and revealed your already completely soaked underwear.

“Uh, I mean unless… you’d rather…”, the wizard stuttered as he looked at your naked butt and how wet and ready you were for him, how his magic held you down – the mage hand at the back of your neck making you whimper now with how pleasantly hurtful it tugged on your hair. The sight of you below him had the usually eloquent professor quite at a loss for words.

You knew he was only trying to make sure you were fine but right then there you felt so desperate to just finally let your fantasies come true that you were almost ready to yell at him again to just get on with it.

“Please”, you simply whispered. And that was enough to break the wizard out of his paralysis. In a sudden change of position he knelt behind you, his hands spreading your butt for him as he pressed his open lips and tongue to your wet but still clothed core and began to suck.

You gasped in surprise and your head jolted upwards, straining against your magic shackles. But Gale’s mage hands were holding you firmly in place, resulting in you just squishing your breasts against the table harder and feeling how they and their hardened peaks were smushed against the hard surface, making you moan harder.

Gale kept giving your wet core and clit attention, finally pushing the soaked lacey piece of fabric that was in his way to the side and letting his tongue work on you – sinking it into you, then letting it circle around the sensitive bud down there.

The man was definitely as good with his tongue as you had hoped for – better even. Turns out the tongue wasn’t only good for spells, incantations or scolding naughty students (although that was probably his specialty).

He kept going, turning your whole being into a whimpering, shivering mess with how the tip of his tongue flicked over your clit and his hands squeezed your ass forcefully.

Desperate for his caress, you arched your back as hard as you could, desperate to get even more friction out of this. When you pushed your hips back even further when you were already close to an orgasm, Gale withdrew from you, leaving you to feel suddenly empty and cold.

You whimpered at the loss but didn’t trust your mind enough to form coherent sentences to make a sassy remark at him. You tried to turn around more to look at Gale and suddenly felt that the mage hands holding your arms behind your back had disappeared. In the same moment you heard how the wizard was undoing his slacks. Your eyes widened.

Now being allowed to do so you turned to watch as Gale let his erection spring free out of his pants. Your lips parted at the sight while Gale watched your reaction intently with a subtle hint of a smile on his face. You might be dripping wet for the wizard, but the wizard was hard as granite for you.

He stroked himself a few times and moaned while you kept staring at his hardness and felt the urge to feel him, all of him, become almost unbearable. Gale watched you, observed the carnal need in your eyes.

“You want me to-“ “Just fuck me already, Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep!“

This time the man needn’t to be told twice. He closed the distance between you. All his magic little helpers had disappeared. Now it was only him when he pressed his body against you again. His hard length fitting and pressing nicely between your buttcheeks.

He moved it down to let it slip along your wet core. The sensation of feeling his cock rub against you already almost making you insane. His hands grabbed hold of your hips as you pushed yourself up against the desk as you braced yourself for what was about to come.

Gale kept toying with you a little more before he entered you with a single movement – thrusting hard. You moaned loudly and let your head fall down. The first movement had already made the table shudder. You desperately tried to get accustomed to the feeling of finally being filled to the brim by this wizard.

“Gods, I want to fuck you until everything on this desk is knocked over”, Gale groaned and you could actually feel him twitch inside you as he promised you that.

“Better get to work then, Professor Dekarios”, you gave back with a breathy moan and squeezed your muscles around him. That earned you a deep growl and another hard thrust – oh.

“You enjoy it, when I call you that?”, you teased and squeezed around Gale’s cock again. Another growl, but not as feral as the one before.

“Fuck me then, Professor Dekarios, right on your desk”, you tried and almost regretted it when the wizard started to actually savagely pound into you – there were no pauses in between it anymore. He thrust into you slowly but forcefully, setting a steady rhythm. Every thrust taking you by surprise, unable to getting used to this sensation of being fucked by your professor.

You felt him hit pleasantly deep inside of you and thoughts in your head weren’t coherent anymore as you simply felt yourself give in completely to your lust and this man.

You felt the tingle of magic again right then and there, between your legs, starting to rub on your clit while the wizard kept thrusting into you - hard. So hard that he was about to keep his promise – books and papers fell over and then off with each of his movements that brought your bodies together. Until… out of the corner of your eye you saw a few papers making their way off the table. They looked awfully familiar.

“Wait, is that my exposé? And annotated? So, you did read it!”, you exclaimed with sudden reestablished coherent thinking. No matter the state of heedless need and pleasure you were in – you couldn’t let this go uncommented.

“Of course - I did - it was brilliant!”, Gale answered breathlessly in between his movements, not letting up on his thrusts. You squealed happily.

But then the mage hand between your legs, pleasuring your clit, suddenly pinched it, making you squeal again – but this time in pleasure and pain.

“We can talk about this later!”, Gale said with his scholarly voice again. And you were drawn back into how he was fucking you on his desk. Although you highly doubted you would be talking about anything soon.

He kept going while the mage hand at your sensitive core was almost driving you mad. The mixture of its teasing and the friction created by Gale thrusting into you had you almost at the edge.

But Gale groaned in frustration and dragged you up from the table. “This won’t do”, he commented, then turned you around and pushed you down again. “I need to see your face when I make you come for me”, he explained his reasoning.

So now you were laying on the wooden desk, your naked butt rubbing over the polished wood, supporting yourself on your elbows as Gale moved in and dragged your legs around his hips to enter you again. But before he did, he bowed down to tear open your already very revealing blouse. You gasped, as buttons jumped off it as you felt the burn of his violent tearing. Who would’ve thought the scholar was so ready to take what he wanted?

Thankfully you had been wearing nothing else underneath, so the wizard was immediately greeted with your naked breasts springing free from your top.

He stared at them dumbfoundedly while their peaks hardened in the sudden rush of cold air. You licked your lips and arched your back again to make them look as perky as possible.

When Gale kept staring in awe, you angled your head, cocked an eyebrow and let one hand wander across them – from one hardened bud to the other - and with that motion softly squeezing and dragging them.

“I kept thinking about these since you put them so exquisitely on display that night at the party”, Gale whispered. “So good to see them finally in the flesh”, he continued and licked his lips. His eyes flicked to yours – was he seeking approval for his stupid joke? This man could really swing between effortlessly and mind-blowingly sexy to absolute dork within in a single moment.

You wrapped your legs around his hips to get his dick back pressing against you. “Will you finally finish what you started? This is taking longer than waiting for you to get done grading a paper”, you scoffed and quickly moved up to give his hardness a single firm stroke.

That made the wizard’s head lull back and groan once more. Then he was immediately onto you again, entering you and bottoming out in a single movement. His hands moved to your hips again to give himself more resistance for his thrusts as he started moving again. And this time with an absolute urgency.

He stared at you, eyes flicking from yours to your jigging boobs then to where he could see himself sliding in and out of you. One of his hands wandered down between where your bodies were joined and this time his real fingers were working your clit.

And between his skilled fingers, his powerful thrusts and the way he stared at you as if he actually wanted to devour you, you felt the cliff coming. And you knew that for him it was coming into view as well as his movements became more and more ragged.

“Please”, you begged him simply – not being able to utter anything else.

Some more powerful thrusts and flicks of his thumb while you clenched around him pushed you off then, making you fall, see stars. It was as if you had entered the weave itself.

You moaned his name desperately as he made you come violently. You clawed and grabbed for his arms, desperate to hold onto him while you lost yourself.

You squeezed your legs around him as you arched your back impossibly far with the pleasure spikes ebbing and flowing through your body and your whole soul.

And Gale followed you within only a few more movements, groaning and tensing as you felt him twitch inside you and his hands clawed into the flesh of your hips. He moaned your name as well, as if it were a plea, while he came inside of you.

“Ah Gods above”, he moaned before he collapsed onto you after that.

The two of you were a tangled, sweaty mess. Breathing heavily, none of you trusted their skills to form complete sentences yet again after this.

With a groan you wrapped your arms around Gale’s upper body, touching his hair, moving a strand of it behind his ear before you leaned back. All tension had left your body for the time being and you desperately felt like you needed to lie down now somehow, actually lie down.

Out of all the scenarios you had come up with as possible outcomes to this, this was definitely the most satisfying one. And the fact that Gale had casually admitted that he thought your exposé brilliant was adding to the happy, fuzzy feeling you felt spreading through you now.

Gale’s eyes meanwhile had widened at your soft gesture and caress and he kept staring at you in wonder and admiration. Then he suddenly moved up and kissed you: with open lips, but gentle, almost too tender after what the two of you had just done. The scruff of his beard tickled a bit on your face and made you scrunch your nose a little.

When he withdrew slowly your expression mirrored his from just before.

“What was that for?”, you asked softly.

“I just realised I hadn’t kissed you through all of this and this was a fact I couldn’t quite live with”, the wizard answered. Ah well, he seemingly was already back to his blabbering eloquent self. This stupid idiot – you were down bad for him even worse now.

You suddenly felt a giggle rise up in you and your cheeks warm. So you grabbed the wizard’s face and kissed him again. Longer now, a bit more passionately – and in a way that already made you yearn to have him again.

“So, do you want to talk about your exposé now, or…?”

“Gale, can we discuss this later?”

The wizard gave you a huge smile when he heard you call him by only his first name again.

“Alright, let’s schedule another meeting for that then.”

[ganondoodle]

been trying to do some pixel art bc after putting another 60+ hours into stardew valley the want to make a stardew like game but *my* way is strong again ... but i keep getting hung up on thinking about game mechanics (screenshot at the bottom .. sorry for makign this so long again ..)

at some point i thought the whole minecraft aspect is probably impossible to add into a 2d pixel game and im better off to cut that idea out of my head and instead make a dedicated area in which you can build stuff more costumizable and make the rest a more static thing id built so the worlds have more character and theres less problems with NPC pathing (since i dont want you to be able to escape Eadryas wrath if you overstay your welcome by building yourself into a circle or collision boxes .... though they would destroy anything in their path to you either way.. still)

but then i still want you to be able to change the ground in your little area (or maybe multiple ... idk im still conflicted bc i like the idea of finding a place and building your lil hut there ... unless i make it so you can build a hut anywhere but change the ground tiles only in certain areas ... ) and build little ponds and stuff ... so im back to the minecraft in 2d problem

i keep getting into these thinking spirals bc i dont want to draw all those sprites if im gonna scrap it all again anyway

the main point with this little ...... well, lets call it fantasy bc im not confident this 'project' will fare any better than any of my other projects (im a never finished a single project and keeps being haunted by it kind of guy and i hate it)

- is that i want a 2d game somewhat similar to stardew but set in my original story world and focused on the environment and nature, not on earning money, an intricate weather system and no time limit on your day, the twist being you are an ex-demon hunter and are on probation to prove you really abandoned the cause, given shelter and a place to stay in the demon world within the protective bubbles around gates into the human realm (bc humans cannot live in the normal environment of the demon world- this is an already long established thing but works extremely well to limit the space you are able to go in a game without making the world feel tiny plus allows me to give you several different environment designs bc those are gates and bubbles in different parts of the demon world) your task being to help clean up the poisoned land the celestials had caused and repopulating these parts with plants etc. ... there is a tracker that lets you know how well or bad it is doing and if you only destroy instead of restore (like chopping down all trees without planting new ones) you will be given warnings until Eadrya shows up and kills you since you are clearly still working to destroy their lands after all

i still really like this idea but im really doubtful it will go anywhere since i am so slow, need to learn at least two complicated new things (coding, music making) and already have so many things i want to do but never really .. do, the task is just too daunting and it keeps me from just having fun drawing pixel art bc i cant stop (over)thinking about mechanics

(see this is what i mean my brain just cant stop, it just keeps going and it keeps making me spiral into these thinking loops that prevent me from actually doing anything )

this is the same file i have been randomly doodling sprites on since april (by far not the only one, but the current one of multiple sprite tests i keep updating or changing)

(i appreciate feedback or thoughts on this alot, its a little fantasy that i keep comign back to, all my attempts to throw it out of my head in hopes of clearing up some space have failed no matter how little hope i have of making it a reality ..)

[ghoulsteak]

for a while now i've been wanting to work on a game, something small & extremely low-budget, the kind of thing you'd dig up for five bucks on itch.io. managing a full project like that by myself even at a tight scope is seriously daunting to me, though. i think the best approach is probably going to be to contribute art to someone else's project, illustrating for a VN or doing character design for a game, work along those lines. i'm going to start looking into what the best way to get involved in that kind of thing would be, but in the meantime, anyone seeing this who has a micro- or no-budget game in development and thinks they'd like my art in their project is welcome to reach out.

[goodluckclove]

Hey. Stop scrolling for a second.

You scroll through writeblr a lot, don't you? I get why. Lots of fun people, interesting concepts and prompts. But maybe you haven't taken that jump from collecting resources on writing to actually writing.

Once again, I get it. It's daunting if you've never done it before. I've been doing it for a while and I genuinely can't think too hard about the act itself as it happens or else I get all sweaty and confused. I flopped spectacularly at a game of Scrabble tonight because I just ran out of words to think of and I'm in the middle of my 13th novel. Writing to me is like side-eyeing the sun - but that's besides the point.

What I mean is that you should do it. That idea that you think could be, might be, maybe has potential. More than that, I think you should do it right now. Right now.

Ooh but Clove, it's one AM and I have to do open heart surgery tomorrow. Cool. Write three sentences and go to sleep, then see if you want to do more after you get your license revoked.

But what if it's not good? Okay. What if it isn't? But what if it isn't, and it GETS good later? Or what if it isn't, but then later in the story you find a way to make those three initial sentences make sense? Three sentences isn't a story, unless you're Ernest Hemingway or a Haiku Man. Moving on.

Clove, where do I start? Honestly if you've never finished a project, or really never wrote anything at all, maybe just start at the point that sounds the most interesting in your head. To find the process that works for you takes work and experience so maybe for now you get dessert for dinner.

But I don't have an outline/character sheet/world map/mood board/playlist/ECT! Cool. Maybe that's an issue. Maybe it isn't. There's only one way to find out.

But it's hard! It's hard at first and then it gets easier. It's a muscle. You work at it consistently and you'll get to a point where you struggle to remember what it was like to not know how to write.

But it's painful! Hah yeah. That's kind of the more honest issue, isn't it. It's easier to think that your idea WOULD BE GREAT rather than face the fact that you might not be able to MAKE IT GREAT. That fear isn't based in reality, though. People like different things. You might write a work that you're displeased with in one aspect and find that it's changed someone else's life for a completely different reason.

What if I'm not a good writer? I struggle with this a lot and I've been published. It doesn't really go away even when people cry at your work and heap praise on it. But if you like to do it, if you would still be doing it even if there was no end promise of fame and success, you should do it.

What if I'm not a writer at all? I used to ask myself that. There are lots of answers to this question so I can only give my own: you are a writer if you write - past, present or future. If you haven't written in a long time but you're trying to get back to the craft, you are still a writer. You just have to keep trying.

What we do is half-trade, half-religious act, and because of that it is easily one of the weirder passions. I don't really get why people romanticize the field but at the same time I guess it seems pretty magical at times. As a writer, though, our job is to be the proverbial Man Behind the Curtain. You have to know how the magic trick works enough to do it successfully, but you also still have to be amazed. It's weird. I don't know why I do it.

I still do it though.

Write three sentences. Right now. Why not, right? If you send them to me in an ask I'll read them, or you can send them to me at my email address that I posted a few posts back because I'm old enough to know online safety and choose to ignore it. Or just do it for yourself.

Make something. You deserve to be a source of creation.

[pinkmoondoll9shihtzu]

can i BE honest (yes)(i do not possess the ability hold back)

Well actually i did kind of move in silence for 5 months so maybe thats incorrect but it was reall y hard. (Kinda, it was fun in its own way). Basically i am writing to say I finished my EP like it's literally done but now i am in a dilemma because I don't know how to share it. Despite my best efforts to hype myself up i feel nervous and afraid. it makes me feel really sick! And people may think i'm a person who wears their heart on their sleeve I guess in most situations i do But to share something i worked so hard on feels mercilessly daunting and nauseousssss

i don't think i ever worked so hard on (One) complete thing in my life. I have made a lot of art and taken a lot of photos and even recorded a few singles I have finished a lot of projects I am serious about finishing what I start it causes me great turmoil not to finish things. But this is the longest i ever worked on something. And now I don't know what the fuck to do! it's been finished for like a week. I can't even bring myself to re-listen to it because im fucking SICK of hearing it haha even though i like what i did. i find it to be acceptable. But im horrified at the same time.

i think part of my fear is that i feel it does not really exist within the requisites of any pre-existing genre so sometimes i wonder "Who the fuck is this even for". its a limitation within my mindset i want to release. Maybe I shouldn't be sharing these kinds of insecurities but also i don't really like to project the persona of someone who is immune to self-doubt because i don't rly respect one-dimensional caricatures of deluded confidence. No offencseee. I like ~vulnerability~ yeah yeah we all know that, whatever. Plus i am planning on deleting this post when i wake up so who cares. Nightposters trust pact

i like vulnerability but i dont want to be vulnerable in sharing my hard work xD how do i get over this xD i dont like self promo xD i dont even want to be "me" i dont want to be anything i just enjoy making music its really fun i dont know how i would've coped with the past 5 months since Pochita's accident if i didn't bury myself in music and let it take up all my mental space i just want to have fun i don't like the parts i don't like. Hmph. it would be silly not to share it though i know it would be silly. Why do i care....

[good-beanswrites]

My thoughts on how the Milgram mv machine works based on the evidence we have:

(I know there’s been discussion about where exactly the interrogations take place, but wherever they are,) the prisoners are made to sit in a specific chair near the wall that houses the machine.

It’s ordinarily hidden, but the wall panels shift aside to reveal it when the mechanical sounds play in the dramas. As well as the walls moving, the chair transforms to restrain the prisoner and attach whatever it takes to access their brain. The fact that none of the more frightened prisoners try to run or break it makes it seem like they physically cannot. This is why Fuuta sounds so panicked, and why Amane is suddenly helpless in front of Es in their T1 vds.

(My mind conjures very classic sci-fi mad scientist machines with wires, pipes, lights, nodes, needles, etc, but I’d love to hear how other people visualize it.)

In some vds (maybe all? I’d need to check,) you can hear Es take some steps right before their iconic line -- it would make sense that for safety reasons, the power mechanism is placed across the room. Once again it could be anything, but the sound effect makes me think of one of those giant wall-mounted levers you have to pull down.

The voice dramas don’t really provide the type of crime details that an actual interrogation would reveal, and it’s odd that they’re placed before the extraction rather than after Es gets to see the new details. This leads me to believe the machine functions with priming. All Es needs to do is get them talking about their murder, so it’s on their mind.

The video produced is much like a (non-lucid) dream. Even if the prisoners figure out that this is how it works, they can’t control it just by thinking really hard about something else. The murders produce the strongest emotional affect, and that’s what it picks up on. If someone else used the machine, it would default to whatever gave them the strongest emotional reaction in the ~15 minutes beforehand, hence why Es’ video focuses on their daunting task ahead. (The Undercover theory is still a bit loose, though, given the private shots that Es wouldn't have known about). It’s why the videos are usually closely linked to the vd topics/beats. I also like to think that the reason their prisoner colors appear so much is because they’re looking at those colors on their uniform 24/7.

The bell rings to inform Es that it’s the optimal time to use the machine -- the prisoner has been thinking about things for long enough that the video will be about their crime, and if the conversation lasts much longer they’ll start thinking of other things. It’s at a different time for each prisoner because it’s based on the specific conversation. I guess Jackalope is listening in to the interrogation, timing it perfectly. (The only one that kind of messes with this theory is Yonah, because they just keep talking afterwards lol, but it could just show that the interrogation is still in Es’ control.)

Their “Sing your sins” is the final priming nudge to get them to think of their actions as a sin, revealing their guilt.

Once activated, the prisoner enters a sort of trance/sleeping state. It’s very much like REM sleep, with the machine forcibly activating neurons and recording the output. The prisoners have asked Es what they saw, meaning they don’t remember the mvs. I like to think the prisoners do experience the mv in real time, acting as the major version of themself that appears, but can’t remember it afterwards. It’s when you experience a dream, but as soon as you wake up you’re just left with fleeting emotions and memories right on the tip of your tongue.

The video plays immediately upon extraction -- whether on a huge projection or little screen depends on which room it’s in. It simultaneously saves the memory so that Es can rewatch it later (on those old TVs in the jailbreak mix). The machine downloads the song and video together, but requires special parts to retrieve them. The technology is pretty new and fragile, so if one is broken, there might be a delay between when Es can hear the extracted song and see it with the video. (That’s my justification for Kotoko’s delays -- after 9 prisoners the parts wear out, or maybe Mikoto himself overheats it with his complex situation.)

Based on the lack of conversation we get afterwards, I picture Es leaving before the prisoner wakes from the trance. The machine adjusts their brain back to normal before they awaken, restraints freed and able to return to the rest of the prison.

It’s very much like a dream, so it’s not harmful despite the amnesia/head injuries the prisoners have. It does, however, exhaust them. Brain activity alone takes a lot of energy, so forced brain activity with added emotional strain would cause them to feel pretty drained the rest of the day.

[thrashkink-coven]

Being a Luciferian that originated on the right side and still works with Archangel Michael and others is such a trip sometimes. Michael is so fucking intimidating all the time. Like, I know we’re cool, but lord forfuckingbid we ever aren’t. He’s extremely kind and gentle but oh so fucking authoritative and powerful. Like you can just feel it stinging off of his eyes, you know how much strength he has and how willing he is to use it if necessary. The thing i love so much about the myth of Michael and Satan is that he was said to have been far weaker than Satan in fighting prowess, but his loyalty to God made him the victor in the end. So fucking cool and scary and COOL. The idea of a soldier so fucking committed to his crown that he will fight until death to honour his God is amazing.

(my) Lucifer and Michael have absolutely no problems with each other, although Michael is always very disciplined, committed to his purpose and doesn’t entertain any none sense, he still seems to appreciate something about Lucifer. He is a guardian of truth and light, regardless of what name it holds. He appreciates Lucifer’s affinity for knowledge, but knows very well that his knowledge can be used for destruction and “evil”. He knows that Lucifer has an incredibly important role to play, but that doesn’t mean he’ll entertain any of the shenanigans that come with it. In fact, he’s dedicated to managing those shenanigans so we can all enjoy the positive aspects of Lucifer’s light. Thanks, Michael.

I only really call upon Michael if I need some serious help with cleansing or protection. He’s the guy to call if you need to be kicked in the ass, staring a new and daunting project, trying to get fit. He is damn efficient at what he does and he doesn’t stop short. If you call upon Michael you better be damn prepared to get what you asked for.

As a Luciferian that embraces the left hand path I’ve always felt as though Michael looked at me as someone he always wants the best for, but he also may disagree with some of my methods. He’s never considered or treated me like I was one of those evils to be vanquished, but rather, he knows very well what ways I could improve myself and would purify me if he was given the opportunity. But he’s also aware of the inherent flaws of humanity and doesn’t force us to improve unless we ask him to.

In some hypothetical scenario where Lucifer and I broke up (don’t tell him I said this) Michael would definitely be the guy I’d call on for help. i appreciate him a lot and I am very grateful for all that he has ever helped me with. I love the role he plays as the ultimate older brother of all the other angels. He watches over them and ensures that they’re safe at all times. Ready and happy to lead his family towards truth and light.

I’m very happy he doesn’t hate me lol. It’s something I worried about a lot as a kid, but when I finally got the opportunity to get to know him I learned that he doesn’t really hate anyone. He’s so much more than just an angel to carry out violence against his unjust siblings, in fact I’d say that’s one of his least proud roles, something he doesn’t really enjoy doing. He is a protector of children and a reminder that strength should always be used to help those without it.

plus, in one of the only dreams I’ve ever had about him, his armor was magnificent. Michael is probably one of those dudes that you absolutely should not lust over but… he looked real good just saying.

[childotkw]

Any tips on how to write a dissertation? I’m in my final year of uni & cannot stop procrastinating 😢

Oh god, I've never had to write one before and it's been a hot minute since I was in university 😅

For procrastination though? Yeah, I can provide some tips on how I try and combat it.

Begin saying "no" aloud when you catch yourself procrastinating

I find this starts slowly changing what type of tasks I drift towards and helps me break out of the headspace. Saying it aloud also makes it stick better for me. Makes it more official so my little gremlin brain actually listens.

Pace yourself

Break the work down into smaller (much much smaller) segments so they don't seem as daunting. Rather than looking at it as a chapter, or a page, or a paragraph, go right down to a sentence. Finish one sentence, then another, then another. Sentence by sentence, you'll find yourself chipping through the project a lot faster because you're focussing on individual trees without getting disheartened by the size of the forest.

Have breaks

Don't burn yourself out by trying to power through everything. Build breaks into your timeline and try and stick to them.

Have a reward / punishment system

This sometimes works for me. Depending on what you, psychologically, respond better to, implement a system to reward or punish yourself whenever you successfully avoid procrastinating / when you don't succeed. I respond better to rewards, so I give myself a little treat when I avoid procrastinating and complete the work I'm doing. You might respond better to a punishment - e.g., "I won't watch this episode of my show because I procrastinated for x hours", "I won't read this fanfiction of the rest of the week because I didn't finish xyz of my project", things like that.

I will say to be especially careful with the punishment side of things. It can be a slippery slope because this is a kind of conditioning and you should be aware of how it might backfire before attempting anything of the sought.

Set realistic timeframes

What I mean by this is set yourself a goal of "for the next ten minutes, I will only work on x" and then commit to it. If you work to a specific cadence (i.e., I often do 20-5-20, 20 minutes working, 5 min break, 20 mins works). This can be a great way to keep yourself on track.

Accept that it doesn't need to be perfect

This go through a drafting phase. Your first go through doesn't need to be perfection. Once you push through that mentality, you'll have an easier time getting your initial draft done. Then you can go through and edit.

--- -- --- -- --- -- ---

Hope these help!

[i-call-me-clarence]

Pictures of a Metaphor

Here is an image of a mushroom:

It’s interesting, it’s got okay composition, the mushroom’s obviously the focal point, but there’s other things that draw the eye in this scene too. There’s the dark red leaf in the upper lefthand corner that leads you away from the mushroom, to the pinecone, maybe you notice then, that there’s another pinecone to the very left, you might get drawn over to the green leaves in the upper right, before you’re coming back home to mushroom land. 

This is a story before it’s been edited. It’s complete, it has flow, beginning middle and end. A bit muted, a little lacking in that *pizzaz*, but not horrible.  

Some people are fine with this, the image above being exactly what they were going for. Tamed, real, raw. Others would be disappointed. After all that hard work of finding a subject, setting up the shot, and finally taking enough pictures to find a decent one, you’ve got… this, something that’s a bit too dull for some, or maybe just not what you were hoping for.  

Now what if you throw in a little color? Made it warmer, fluffier, gave it some more detail and definition? You might get something like this:

It’s got a completely different vibe! It’s something that might catch your attention, compel you to stare at it for a little while. It’s more fun, kind of vintage. 

But what if you were looking for something a bit more weird? Something with unexpected colors, something vibrant as hell that made you go ‘Wow’ like Owen Wilson? You might end up with something a little like this instead: 

The greens and reds almost clash but there’s a strange, unexpected harmony.  Intriguing blues and purples can be spotted throughout the image, if your eyes can focus long enough away from the vibrant greens and reds. It’s kinda bizarre. It makes you feel… something. 

But maybe weird isn’t what you want. Maybe warm things make you cringe. So you add in a little darkness, change the tone, create conflict and angst. Or maybe you simply want to unsettle someone. It could end up looking like this: 

Dark, cold, finding a mushroom out in the woods, near nightfall, you’re starving and don’t know if it’s poisonous or not. 

But what if that’s not enough? What if you want to take that dull old mushroom photo, and bring it to the far edge of reality and then push it off? What if you want to throw it into the very pit that the word ‘insanity’ drug itself out of? What if you want to find pandora’s jar (it was never a box it was a jar folks) and bust it open, just to see if maybe a few more horrors were left inside? In simple terms, what if you just wanna make people’s skin crawl and their eyes need some bleach?

…Unsettling, to say the least. 

All of these pictures, are the same exact picture, edited in different ways. What I’m trying to get across here, is that when the story’s done, on occasion, it’s really only just begun. My fiance’s first draft is his final project, and it’s a painstaking process, which he loathes every nano-second of. Me? I start strong with maybe something more like this: 

And end stronger with something like this old familiar bad boy:

(It’s the weird one. I’m trying to say I write weird shit)

But sometimes, you finish a story, first draft DONE, and then it’s just… kinda meh. It doesn’t even really seem worth the time to fix it… POLISH THAT SHIT! Edit it until it SHINES! Beauty is waiting, it just needs a little slap here, a comma there, maybe some italics, and then BAM! Masterpeice. (Remember, Leonardo Da Vinci worked on the Mona Lisa for like ten thousand years, making little edits here and there. Don’t spend 10k years on it though, learn when to stop ((something you’d have to hold over Da Vinci’s head :D))

And if you need to get a story down, but are daunted by the task of taking the brutally agonzing steps of making it perfect on the first go round, then… Just don’t. Just take the dull picture with the good idea. Then edit the shit out of it until it looks like the image in your head. 

Don’t let a first draft become your last and end up in the recycle bin. Ideas are fire and passion. Don’t snuff them out just because building them up would take work. 

[lonelywanderingflower]

The Sera Cardigan has been a labor of love for me. Maybe I got a little too ambitious with my first cabled project, especially since I've never done a charted pattern before. After doing a lot of basic stockinette patterns, I wanted to step out of my comfort zone and this pattern caught my eye. Even though I started out strong only to kinda lose interest in the end when it got tedious, I'm happy with how this project turned out despite its flaws - which are all on me, by the way.

So my first mistake was the yarn choice, which probably wasn't the best since it didn't grow as much as I'd hoped. The size I chose was my second mistake. Since I only had a limited quantity of yarn, which I bought while traveling abroad. Since the cardigan is meant to be very oversized, I figured an XS should be ok since it would still give me some positive ease. I failed to put into account that the yarn I used did not grow much when blocking compared to wool, and the fact that my tension tends to be tighter, which means my fabric will be smaller. As a result, I opted to omit buttons since I wouldn't be able to wear it closed, which is fine with me since I tend to wear cardigans open anyway. But if I didn't have to worry about running out of yarn, I would've definitely sized up to my usual medium, or even a large just to get the intended ease on this design.

The cables wasn't too hard to get into once you've done it a few times since it'll be straightforward and somewhat easy to memorize after a while. It was satisfying seeing the cables come together, so that part wasn't tedious.

The brioche, however, is another story. On the body it wasn't too bad because it's a couple short sections at the shoulders. But the sleeves where it's all brioche? That was so tedious. After dragging myself through one sleeve, I jumped to the buttonband and collar before starting the second one. Then that took me over 2 months to finally complete.

Now, for the pros of this project. I'd say if you're ambitious like me, and have a substantial amount of knitting experience under your belt, I'd say go for it. I went for the top-down version as it's my preferred method since you can try it on and easily customize the length, which was helpful when trying to figure out how much yarn to use. The pattern does come with bottom-up instructions if that's your preferred construction.

So the pattern, like I said, isn't too daunting once you repeat the cables a couple times and really see it come together. While it can get tedious after a while, especially with the sleeves, I think the final product is worth if if that's the kind of cables design you want to add to your wardrobe.

[fontasticcrablettes]

Been really thinking about making a modern Tales crossover AU these past few days, and i’ve got a basic premise in mind, but I’m relatively new to long form writing, and i keep backing out due to the urge of “i’m not writing these characters correctly/they wouldn’t be like this”. Any tips for a newcomer writer to get over that kind of anxiety?

I'm going to try to give you actionable advice beyond the generic "Write anyway, even if it's not living up to your expectations, because writing poorly is the only way to learn how to write well" (even though all of that is true).

Writing is a skill like any other. The more practice you've had, the faster and more effortless it feels. You know how talented and experienced artists can just free hand some fanart and it looks just the character instantly? But a beginner artist will probably have to draw a sketch with guidelines, block things in, and gradually add more detail to get it to look right.

This is the same with writing! When you're just starting out, the dialogue and character actions can be like that rough sketch. Just giving yourself the idea of where things go and how the scene is moving. You can then give it more passes to get it sounding right.

So let's think about your problem. You're worried about, "They wouldn't be like this." But what thought comes next? Anxiety is telling you to follow that with, "so I should give up." But I'm telling you to follow it with another question: "So how would they be?"

Because I think that if you look at your writing and think "They wouldn't act like this," then what that tells me is that you know how they do act. How can you recognize that they're out of character if you have no idea what in-character looks like? This is like Dumbo's magic feather: the power is already inside you!

If you recognize that, for example, the dialogue you wrote for someone doesn't sound right, try to think of a time in canon when they said something similar - a similar level of tension, similar emotional state, similar level of intimacy with whom they're speaking. Now you have example of how they speak and behave in canon. Use that as reference for when they would be sarcastic, what sort of slang they'd use, how formal they'd be, etc.

Writing an AU setting can be a double-edged sword. One one hand. you might be extra anxious because they aren't in their canonical setting so you have less of a frame of reference. But on the other, I think most readers are also more forgiving of characters behaving differently in AUs. They have a different upbringing, after all; it's going to affect them. Concentrate on the second part if you're getting anxious that your AU versions of the characters aren't close enough to canon.

Ultimately, writing a lengthy fic for the first time is a daunting endeavour. A lot of people would be very intimidated to undertake a project like this! Your anxiety is likely scared in general of committing a long and effort-intensive project and looking for excuses to tell you not to even try. After all, if you don't try, you can't fail. Your anxiety is being dumb. You've got a cool project to share, and you're going to learn a lot about writing while working on it (even if some of that learning is subconscious).

Good luck! Write that fic!

[gimmiesophiebaek]

Here’s a preview of my new fic, “Eloise at the Royal”

Eloise Bridgerton is about to embark in a once-a-lifetime adventure: sail around the world. But add in family and widower, her trip has gotten a little interesting.

Rated M Pairing: Eloise Bridgerton/Phillip Crane Supporting pairings: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Benedict Bridgerton/Sophie Baek, Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sharma Plus: Daphne Bridgerton, Francesca Bridgerton, Gregory Bridgerton, Hyacinth Bridgerton, Violet Bridgerton

Enjoy the Prologue: London

Eloise Bridgerton sat at her cluttered desk in the dim newsroom, flipping through notes from the latest parliamentary debate. The dreary gray skies outside matched her mood as she crafted her latest piece dissecting the inefficiencies of modern governance. Unearthing hard truths was her passion—especially when it ruffled feathers.

“Eloise!” her editor, Ms. Danbury, called from her office doorway, her voice cutting through the steady hum of the newsroom. “Come in for a moment.”

Eloise sighed, grabbing her notebook as she stood. This couldn’t be good. Had she gone too far with her latest critique of the royals’ excessive spending?

“There you are, Eloise.” Inside, Ms. Danbury gestured toward a chair. “We’ve got an opportunity for you. Something big.”

“What kind of opportunity?” Eloise asked warily, narrowing her eyes.

“So,” Ms. Danbury leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. “We’re launching a special project: stories from the first post-pandemic global cruise. It’s a year-long assignment visiting all seven continents, where you’ll document not just the destinations but the lives of those aboard the ship. We want you to take it.”

“Me?” Eloise blinked, caught off guard. “Me? Why me?”

“You’re talented,” Ms. Danbury said with a small sigh. “And, well, Cressida dropped out at the last minute. Apparently, she didn’t think the assignment was ‘glamorous’ enough for her.”

“So, I’m the backup option.” Eloise’s jaw tightened. “Great.”

“Don’t take it that way,” Ms. Danbury replied. “This is your chance to broaden your horizons, to see life beyond Westminster. And to write something fresh.”

“And it has nothing to do with getting me to stop writing about the royals?” Eloise folded her arms. “Be honest—this country is done mourning a woman who overstayed her welcome for seven decades. And don’t get me started on King Charles or his grifting son and daughter-in-law in America.”

“This has nothing to do with that.” Ms. Danbury’s gaze flickered just enough to betray her, though she kept her tone neutral. “It’s a career-defining opportunity.”

“When would I leave?” Eloise sighed, her mind whirring. 

“The ship sails from Miami in three weeks. But we need your passport tomorrow to handle the visas.���

The whirlwind of details left Eloise stunned. She muttered her thanks and left Ms. Danbury’s office, dazed. A year-long cruise? Trading in her political exposes for sunsets and human-interest stories seemed ludicrous—until her phone buzzed with a text from Penelope:

Pen: Dinner at ours tonight? Colin’s cooking.

Eloise smiled, replying quickly: I’ll be there, but don’t wait for me if I’m late.

Later that evening, Eloise burst into her brother Colin’s cozy flat in Bloomsbury, where he and his wife, Penelope, were curled up on the sofa with tea.

“You won’t believe this,” Eloise began, pacing the living room. “I’ve been assigned to cover a year-long cruise—seven continents, glamorous destinations, all very exciting, apparently.”

“That’s amazing!” Colin’s face lit up as he glanced at Penelope. “When do you leave?”

“In three weeks,” Eloise replied hesitantly. “From Miami. And I’ll be going alone.”

“Not alone.” Penelope laughed warmly. “We’re going on that cruise!”

“What?” Eloise stopped mid-step, staring at them.

“We booked it ages ago,” Penelope explained. “It’s been our dream trip since before we got married.”

Relief washed over Eloise. Suddenly, the daunting idea of being away for a year didn’t seem quite so overwhelming. With Colin and Penelope on board, maybe this assignment could be more than just work—it might even be fun.

The next three weeks flew by in a blur of preparations. On departure day, Eloise, Colin, and Penelope met their mother, Violet, along with Gregory and Hyacinth, at Heathrow. Violet fussed over them endlessly, ensuring they had scarves, snacks, and everything else a mother could worry about.

“I can’t believe you’re missing Christmas,” Violet said with a sigh. “It won’t be the same without you.”

“We’ll call,” Penelope assured her, hugging her tightly. “And we’ll bring back stories.”

Eloise watched the exchange with a pang of guilt but quickly pushed it aside. This was her chance to see the world in a way she never had before. By the time they boarded the plane to Miami, her initial apprehension was giving way to growing excitement.

Settling into her seat, notebook in hand, Eloise stared out the window as the plane taxied down the runway. Ms. Danbury’s words echoed in her mind: It’s time to see the world.

As the plane lifted off, she let herself feel it—hope, excitement, and the faintest glimmer of adventure. Whatever awaited her on this cruise—on land, at sea, or within herself—she would face it head-on.

First stop: Miami, USA

[hillnerd]

Ron figuring out a brutal murder at a Weasley lunch because of some offhand comment and molly just being so pained because this is the fourth time this kid has run off halfway leaving everyone else to fixate on crimes for the rest of the meal

It was a merry evening with the last bits of sun streaming across the garden, and fairie lights lighting what the sun couldn’t. They had to move the table outside to the garden and expand it, so everyone could fit. Molly had been meaning to expand the kitchen and dining room for years, but the construction project felt daunting when she had either her children or grandchildren gathered there every day and Arthur was highly busy at his work— When would there ever be the time for them to do it?

Everyone in the family had shown up for dinner this evening, including most of the unofficial Weasleys they’d gathered over the years. Molly smiled contentedly at the sight of them all. Teddy and Victoire were playing at the end of the table as Dominique turned her head and refused to eat the food Bill proffered her.

“Just a few bites, Dom,” Bill moaned at the picky toddler.

“Would you like me to get something else for her?” asked Molly.

“No. We’re trying to have her eat what’s offered.”

Dominque’s face was rapidly turning red in frustration, and Molly wouldn’t be surprised if the baby would start a tantrum soon. Victoire had been an easy baby, barely ever crying much, sleeping on her own quickly, and happy to eat whatever was put in her pudgy hand. Dominique was quite the opposite, and neither Bill or Fleur had seemed to fully accept that yet.

The spoon of food he held up was swatted away with a red-faced wail, and Bill’s scarred face was splattered with sauce.

“If you’re tired, I can take over for a bit.”

“Would you?” he asked, relief on his face.

She nodded. “Though I want to be able to chose some other food options.”

“Whatever will keep her from crying.”

Spoken like a tired parent.

“How has work been?” asked Molly, immediately cutting up some smaller bites for the baby to try.

He tiredly blinked a bit before snapping to. “Work! Yes. Been alright except for a vault we’re trying to prepare for a client that has some fairly cursed heirlooms we need to prepare for. They want me to make them safe for transport, but I keep telling them there’s no making a mentes et oculus curse less dangerous. They should just melt it down and exchange the gold with the Goblins.”

“Mentes et oculus?”

“Makes a person lose their mind and go blind. At least temporarily, though it can become permanent if someone is exposed to it enough.”

“How much exposure would make a person go blind? And what kind of exposure?” Ron suddenly asked Bill.

“If someone who is not the ‘true owner’ of the piece opens the box and beholds the item without permission from the owner they'll be cursed. At least, that's the main way.”

“So if someone were to ‘not give permission’ and have someone else order someone to open the box, would that work?”

“Perhaps,” said Bill, but he didn’t expand on his answer as Victoire had begun tugging at his trouser leg for attention.

Molly noticed Ron's eyes wandering, a thoughtful expression taking hold. Curiosity getting the better of her, she couldn't resist asking, "Ron, is something bothering you? You seem lost in your thoughts."

Ron blinked, momentarily snapped back to the present. "Oh, sorry, Mum. It's just... What Bill said reminded me of a case I've been working on.”

“I hope it’s not too dangerous,” she said, trying to busy herself with feeding Dominique, who was much happier with her macaroni.

“I’ll be fine, Mum,” he said with a wave of his hand, but the thoughtful look didn’t leave his face. “Bill, how common is that mentes et oculus spell?”

“It’s fairly uncommon here—you mostly see it in Ancient Roman artifacts.”

“Roman…”

Molly watched as a flicker of recognition crossed Ron's face. She knew that look all too well—it meant an end to his dinner. Her heart sank as she realized a fourth family gathering was about to be overshadowed by a crime that needed solving.

“Bill, could I use you as an expert for this case I’m working?”

“Er, sure?”

“Great! I’ll just nip out to the office and—”

“Do you really need to leave early?” Molly asked, even though she knew what his answer would be.

He reached out and squeezed Molly's hand gently. "I'm sorry, Mum. I know it's disruptive, but this could be important. I promise I won't be long."

As Ron excused himself and went to get Harry’s attention, Molly couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. She was proud of Ron's sharp mind and his dedication to his work, but she couldn't deny the weariness that settled in her bones as he and Harry left the table.