#it's also how its playing off the red filter so alas.

[essektheylyss]

the war mage

they escaped their self-imposed cage

yes

YES

the bastard is out

[forever-rogue]

Patricia!! First of all congrats on a new follower milestone! Those are always so exciting and asking and you deserve every one of them! Could I possibly request 39: “I wish we could stay like this forever” and 80: “let’s run away together” from promo list 2 with Oberyn? I love how you write him and would die to see what you do with this 🥺 ily Patricia! And congrats again! ❤️

Anything for you, my love! Enjoy 🥺

(also not necessary but I am a fool - this could totally be read as a slice of life in INO)

Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader ; warnings: references to sex

Pedro Characters Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

The warmth, golden light filtered in through the sheer curtains, and the fresh, salty smell of the ocean and sound of chirping birds hit you all at once. It was a late, but beautiful and blissful morning and you were loath to get up. All you wanted was to stay here forever, wrapped up in the arms of your beautiful lover. Almost as if he sensed that you were up, you felt him grinning against your skin as he pressed a flurry of gentle, saccharine kisses to your chest and collarbones. You mumbled something into the soft pillow, something about wanting just five more minutes of sleep, but he just chuckled. 

“Sleep is for the dead, sunshine,” he murmured as he worked his way up your neck and stopped at your lips.

"I wish we could stay like this forever," a small huff of air escaped your nose as you pouted at him, slowly opening your bleary eyes. You found his soft brown ones, crinkled sweetly in the corners as he grinned at you, studying your face intently, “good morning.”

“Speak for yourself,” you teased him, “it cannot be a good morning if I am being woken up at such an ungodly hour!”

“Ungodly hour,” Oberyn laughed - a twinkling, beautiful sound - before laying back down and pulling you on top of him. You made a small sound of surprise at the sudden motion, but quickly quieted down when you felt his warm, bare body against yours. His golden skin on yours was delicious and warm, soft and strong at the same time, a perfect juxtaposition - just like him. You laid your head onto his chest, “it is almost the afternoon, sweet girl, it’s hardly ungodly.”

“Why can I not enjoy the day in bed with my prince?” you sighed softly, running a hand through his dark curls, “why should I allow the world to part me from my lover in such a manner?”

“Unfortunately the world requires us to be present,” he chuckled as kissed the top of your head. You huffed lightly although you understood what he meant. You'd always known - from the moment you had met the handsome prince.

“And what’s more important? The world or me?” you joked as he grazed his fingers up and down your spine, leaving a wake of gooseflesh under his fingertips. You sighed into his touch before pressing a few kisses to his bare chest.

“You, of course,” he promised, “and you have me always, first and foremost. But sometimes the world needs their prince.”

"And what about me?" you said softly as his large hands landed thoroughly on your backside, giving the firm flesh of your ass a squeeze. You giggled wildly before turning to look up at him and grabbing his jaw, "play fair!"

"I am," he insisted as you kissed him, "you will always manage without me. For the world needs their prince, but what is a mere prince to the queen?"

"Shut up," you groaned at him before moving to sit up so you were straddling his lap, his body humming with gentle love under yours, "you are not even a prince - only a mere fool!"

"A fool for you," he insisted softly as his hands found purchase on your hips. You beamed at him, golden as the sunlight and causing his heart to melt, "let me show you how a queen - my queen - is treated."

"Oberyn," you gasped slightly as his hands wandered up your body and to your breasts, "I thought we had to get up and rejoin society?"

"I've changed my mind," he grinned, "the prince needs you instead."

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Its beautiful here," you were sprawled out on the lush, soft blanket, soaking up as much sun as possible. You were near the edge of the stunning lake, secluded and alone, as you listened to the soft lapping of the waves onto the shore. It was so serene and blissful, for a few moments you almost forgot that a world outside of this place existed. 

Oberyn hummed in content as he popped a few fresh, plump berries into his mouth. He grabbed a particularly plump looking strawberry and held it out to you, dangling it just in front of your lips. You made a show of taking a large bite from the berry, letting the juice dribble from your lips and down your chin.  He tuttled lightly before using his thumb to collect the juices and holding it out to you. 

Grabbing his wrist, you pulled his thumb into your mouth before sucking it clean before slowly releasing it with a loud pop. He grinned at you, before pulling you in for a kiss. 

"You are a very tantalizing little thing," he licked across your bottom lip, savoring the sweetness that lingered. You grinned against him before pulling away and lying back down on the blanket. Oberyn watched you for a few moments before lying next to you, his large hand grabbed yours and he defty laced your fingers together, "you're thinking much too loudly."

"I am doing nothing of the sort," you shrugged innocently, keeping your eyes closed in order to shield them from the sun - and Oberyn. He had a knack for being able to read every thought and feeling almost as if he was able to see into your soul. Naturally, there were a million things running through your mind at once, but you weren't going to tell Oberyn any of that - not yet anyway, "perhaps you're being too analytical."

"It wouldn't be the first time I've been accused of such a thing," he snorted in laughter, "but I, my sunshine, am also able to read to you - easily. Tell me what's going on in that pretty head of yours."

"And if I refuse to speak my peace?"

"Then I shall be forced to pull it out of you," he insisted softly as he brought your hand to his lips and pressed a delicate kiss to your knuckles. Sighing contentedly, you rolled onto your side so you could properly face him.

And he was beautiful - so stunning in his golden glory. He was older now, than when you'd first met him, calmer after everything he'd survived in King's Landing, even more wise and world weary than the best men. Which you supposed he was; a man with words as sweet as roses or sharp as hawthorne - it was easy to see why everyone fell at his feet, but he still reminded them of why he was the Red Viper.

The soft brown of his eyes, flecked with gold in the light, always seemed to betray him.  At least to you anyways. His hair was longer these days, softer much like him, lightened by the sun and flowing into luscious curls. His facial hair has greyed slightly (from keeping up with all of the kids he always claimed), and he was more...him. 

You'd always loved him, from the day he seemed to save you from a life of uncertainty and domineering men. But it has been a privilege to watch him grow, to see him become the best version of him - it was always thanks to you, he claimed, a guise you greatly disputed. But you loved him - your husband - more than the moon and all the glittering stars in the night sky. 

Playing with you a lock of his soft hair, you continued to brush off the insinuation that anything was wrong, "nothing is the matter, Oberyn. I am merely enjoying the private company of my husband."

“And yet there is so much going on in that mind,” he mused, as you shrugged innocently, “so much buzzing, I’d think we were in Honeyholt and tending to the bees. My dear sunshine, you should know better by now - when have I ever let such a thing go?”

“You are incessant,” you groaned lightly, but appreciating the care and concern nonetheless, “it is silly - a mere folly that should not even worry me and alas, here I am.”

“If it matters to you, then it is not a mere folly,” he promised, “you can tell me anything.”

“I know,” you agreed with a small. You sat up slowly pulling your knees to your chest as you looked out into the sparkling water. Oberyn followed suit before moving to sit in front of you, putting his hand under your chin and turning your face up to his. He almost left you breathless with his easy beauty and warmth, “it’s just...I like this. Just you and me, no one else around, no worries, no duties. I...I hate to think once we return home it will all cease to exist - you will be forced to your duties, as I understand you must, and I? Well, I suppose I will be your dutiful wife, hoping and wishing for a chance to see her husband.”

“Then I suppose we should run away, shouldn’t we?”

“I...Oberyn...what?”

“I’m serious,” he insisted softly as you just laughed at his idealistic ways, “let’s run away together, even if just for a while. No one has to know...and when we are ready we shall return.”

“That is a temporary solution for a permanent problem, my love,” you gave him a weak smile before pulling out of his touch, “what about when we return to Dorne?”

“Always so serious, my sunshine,” he chuckled softly as you huffed at him, “you must ruin every little surprise, mustn’t you?”

“I have done nothing,” you insisted, sticking out your tongue at him, “all I do is care about my husband and I am teased and punished for being woeful and caring!”

“You have not been teased -”

“I have too, Oberyn Martell!”

“I will make it up to you, sweet girl,” he praised with a glint in his eye, “however, whenever, and wherever you should fancy. Now - will you let me finish?”

“I have not been-”

“Your prince demands it.”

“Well your queen insists that she hasn’t been doing anything of the short,” gave him a little smirk, “but go on and tell me about this so called surprise.”

“When we return home to Dorne, things will be different,” he promised as you raised your eyebrows in question, “I have been thinking, and don’t even say a word, and I think it’s time for me to...take a step back and let Doran and Arianne, as his heir, handle things from now. I am getting tired...weary, of all these tasks that should be left to the next ruler. Besides, Arianne is more than ready to take over. I think I should quite enjoy a quiet, leisurely life.”

“Oberyn,” your mouth dropped and formed a small o as you studied him to try and see if he was being honest. A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth before he broke out in a wonderful grin. You leaned over and kissed him, unable to stop yourself, “do you mean it? Please tell me this isn’t some sort of cruel joke.”

“I would never do such a thing,” he whispered as he pulled you into his lap and you wrapped your arms around his neck, “I just think...it’s time. Besides, there is nothing more I want than to spend my day with you, and the girls - think of all the things we can do. There are still ways to help our people, but we will do it together.”

“You continually amaze me,” a single tear, this one of nothing but happiness and love had rolled down your cheek as you pressed your forehead against his, “and I will never know what I did to deserve you, and I will be forever grateful to the universe for bringing you to me.”

“Now you’re just flattering me,” he reached up and gently wiped away the tear, “for it should be the other way around. I take it as though you are not opposed to the notion?”

“Not at all,” you smiled softly, “I could have asked for nothing better.”

“Then what do you say?” his hand found the back of your neck as he gave you a gentle squeeze, “shall we run away? To Essos - the Summer Isles - far away from everything? Only to return when we decide we are ready to?

“Yes,” you eagerly agreed, delighted by the prospect of spending the days and nights at your husband’s side, without a care in the world, “I want nothing more.”

“Then it is settled,” he promised, “now, will you let me show you every way in which I love you?”

“Oberyn!” your face flushed with warmth as you looked around to make sure no was within ear shot, “we are out in the open! Anyway could...see.”

“And that is not our problem,” he shrugged simply, “we have told them not to disturb us, hopefully they heed our advice. But now, sweet girl, you are all mine.”

“Always,” you promised softly, “I am forever yours.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[hotchseyebrows]

good for her

a gotchgan and temily fic

the first @qvid-pro-qvo and @hotchseyebrows collab

a/n: my dearest darling qvo and i have a penchant for saying "yes, and" until the cows come home and well. here we are. also somehow this is the very first gotchgan fic on ao3 to my knowledge? it sure is exhausting being trailblazers but alas! the sacred duty falls to us

rating: explicit! very explicit- penelope likes her details, what can i say. minors dni, thank you kindly (threesome, teasing, cunnilingus, blow jobs, p in v sex, multiple orgasms, creampie)

read it here on ao3!

The ongoings and intricacies of the Garcia-Morgan-Hotchner household, told from Penelope Garcia herself to a very curious pair of BAU agents. Girls' night will never be the same again.

(In other words, Penelope gets absolutely spoiled by her two partners, and Tara and Emily get every single detail.)

word count: 4287

The energy is a low thrum in the crowd’s chest, most of them gathered near the edges and along the counter space. There’s too many points of focus - the final call for a bachelorette party about to make their way to another venue, the steady thumps of glasses being placed back on the wood countertops, people filtering in and out of bathrooms with too few stalls - but Emily can’t take her eyes off of the couple in the center. 

Derek and Penelope. Morgan and Garcia. On the dance floor, her arms wrapped around his neck and his hands on her hips as they rest their foreheads together and sway back and forth. Nothing else seems to matter to them when they’re together, except them. Him and her, their focus on each other just like Emily’s is. 

The songs are slow, but the rhythm beneath them is what is felt in Emily’s chest, as she hears the bartender announce her and Tara’s next choice for drink. She looks up, settles the tab, and then pulls away to walk back along the side of the place. The lights are low but perfect to give Tara another once over (tenth of the night, if she’s giving a conservative estimate). Looking up at her girlfriend’s smile and slowly working her way down her body. 

She’s not subtle, that’s for sure. 

“Looking for something?” Tara asks. Her voice has a little laugh in it, their own inside joke.  

Emily slides the drink into Tara’s hand. She sidles up to her partner, brushing a hand along her lower back. “Somehow I am still surprised that heels make you this tall.”

Tara laughs before taking a sip of her drink and leaving a grateful kiss on Emily’s temple. “6’3” easy, baby.” She sits down on her stool and grabs Emily’s hand with a smile. “Not that it’s not exhausting being this beautiful. That’s why I have you to fetch the drinks.” Emily laughs too, leaning in to kiss Tara.

After a moment, Emily pulls back and looks around. She wraps an arm around Tara’s waist. “Look at the lovebirds?” Tara laughs into her drink, looking towards the dance floor. Well, what’s left of the dance floor. It’s late, and the place isn’t known for its vibrant dance experience anyway, so the dance floor currently consists of a DJ playing slow jams (on request) and Derek and Penelope lost in their own world.

It almost feels like an invasion of privacy watching them dance now, Pen’s lips near Derek’s ear, the way he’s smiling gently yet with some hidden meaning surely behind it Emily’s too far out of the loop to ascertain. She can take a guess, though, as the two of them laugh and somehow get even closer - a miracle, truly. Penelope nudges their noses together before pulling him into a kiss. It makes Emily smile to see it.

That’s when Hotch arrives. 

“Emily,” he says, voice warm, if not a little worn for the late hour, “and Tara. Good to see you.” 

“You, too, Hotch,” Tara says, lifting her drink to him. 

After he and Derek retired, Emily was uncertain how they’d keep up with each other. It was Penelope who was that connection once they left, keeping the rest of the team up to date, with... well, both of them. It didn’t take long for Emily to deduce that it was more than one former agent who she was going home to, especially when girls’ nights ended with one or the other getting her home.

Nevertheless, even after five years for Hotch and a meager two for Derek, it’s still a shock to see him out of a suit and tie, though the polo isn’t too far of a cry from professional. 

They make some kind of small talk as Emily and Tara work on their drinks, finishing them while the song finishes as well. Aaron fills them in on the judicial consulting he does, and Emily can’t help but spill a couple of case details while the two on the floor start to drift back towards the table. Tara nudges Emily's side with a knowing smile, drawing her attention to the way Derek is spinning Penelope around with one hand and making her giggle as they maneuver closer.

That’s when Penelope turns her head just a little, sees Hotch, and lights up, making a beeline towards him, arms throwing around his neck and giving him a firm kiss on the cheek. 

“Aar-Bear!” she yells, and the music isn’t loud enough to drain out the endearment completely. Derek isn’t far behind her, hand on her lower back, rubbing along a seam of the dress she’s wearing. 

“Hey, Hotch,” Derek says, and his eyes are shining just as bright as Pen’s, even if his touch is restrained just to her. “Missed you.” 

His voice is still warm, however, and his eyes are soft. Emily dips her gaze briefly for her drink, sure to lift her eyes again to see the way he hugs her. “Hey, Pen, Derek. You ready to go?” 

It seems to crush her - her eyes go wide and sorrowful, and even as Derek wraps around her from behind she can’t hide her pout. “We have to leave? But, my darlings -” 

“We’ll see you soon, Penny,” Emily promises, Tara nodding next to her, arm wrapping around her waist. A united front against the force that is Penelope Garcia. “We’ll have another girls’ night, get you good and proper wasted.” 

Penelope lets out a dreamy sigh. “There’s that London in you - okay, okay, okay, I guess I am being… swept away by one of my knights in shining armor.” Her hands lift in a show of surrender, and Derek smiles at Hotch as he passes him towards the exit of the bar. Emily doesn’t miss the squeeze of their hands in the passing, or the way that Hotch lingers back to watch Derek and Penelope stumble forward through the entrance and out into the parking lot where his car is. Derek can only manage a wave as Penelope leans on him, and quickly ensures her safety into the front seat before getting into the back himself. 

“Thanks for looking after them,” Hotch says, turning back to Emily and Tara with a smile that they would have never seen on a case. “I owe you both.” 

“You don’t, but if you’re offering to pay for our Uber…” 

There’s a little laugh shared among the three of them, and Hotch opens his mouth to answer. Unfortunately, confirmation is lost as Penelope sticks her head out of the window without a thought in the world, blonde curls falling in front of her face as she yells out to Aaron. “Aaron Hotchner, my sweet love, if you don’t get in this car and take me home to rail me right now, I will scream.” 

Tara and Emily can’t help the way they stop, heads whipping around to look at Penelope. Her smile is bright, and they have just enough time to look back at their old unit chief. Aaron has gone a bright, deep red, and Penelope has not budged from her position out of the window of their SUV. 

“Well?” the FBI analyst calls out again, and Emily has to keep her hand over her mouth to hide the way she’s about to break at the look on Aaron’s face. 

“S-Sorry, I’ll - I’ll see you both,” he manages, starting to move towards the car he has to now drive. 

“Wonder what that looks like at the… Garcia-Morgan-Hotchner home,” Emily whispers to Tara, hand still over her mouth.

Tara does laugh, though - Hotch looks like he’s struggling to maintain any semblance of composure as he makes his way to the car, and she can see Derek’s face on Penelope’s neck as she waves wildly at them when the vehicle drives off. “It is… intriguing,” she admits, and Emily can’t hold in her laugh any longer as the two of them find their own way home. 

-

It lingers. Penelope’s words, Hotch’s face, Derek’s laugh sounding off from the backseat. It sticks with Tara and Emily on the way home, and Emily is the one who eventually breaks. 

It’s an innocuous enough text. The response, however, required a bit more context. 

-

Emily: so did he rail you?

Pen: 🥴😵‍💫🥳🤩☄️🍑🍆🍌🍽

Emily: …… not the dinner plate.

Pen: what!!! he had to clean up the mess somehow ;)

Pen: do you want… details? because i can give you details…

-

Tara and Emily have to pause. Take a moment, look at each other, trying to decide if details are what they want at this moment. On the one hand, that would be more information than they ever thought they would get about two of their closest friends (they know far too much about Penelope for much to be a surprise - they think.) but on the other, it’s been incredibly… intriguing, this glimpse into the Garcia-Morgan-Hotchner household. They weigh the options, and curiosity wins out in the end.

They do in fact want all the details. 

Go for it, Pen, Tara responds, and they are not nearly prepared enough for the deluge of texts they get next. 

-

Pen: at every red light i was grabbing his thigh and ghosting my hand along his, you know, and turning back to grin at derek who was just watching me tease aar

and derek wouldn’t be left behind and so he was leaning forward and kissing aaron on the ear and the neck and me, and by the time we’re about to turn in and we park he’s kissing me before we even get into the house, as SOON as we’re in the driveway

aar just gets so pretty when he's flustered!!! can you blame us for wanting to rile him up?? plus. hes SUCH a good kisser, my goodness

Pretty. That word sticks out to Emily, but before she can linger on it too long, Tara is jabbing her with her elbow. There’s no time for wondering, because Penelope is typing with experienced fingers and the two of them are enraptured. 

Pen: his cheeks just get so pink and flushed and he stammers when he’s all nervous but he’s still aaron, you know? so he’s all bossy and telling me to get inside and derek is laughing and pushing him forward and everything

and he's so HANDSY, like i dont think anyone would be surprised that derek cant keep his hands off either of us, but aaron... he's so. yea

-

Already they’ve learned so much about their former boss. It’s enough to make Emily’s eyes widen just a little bit, leaning back from the screen to think. It hasn’t gotten too explicit yet, but at the speed Penelope is going it’s only a matter of time. 

“She’s still going,” Tara warns her, her own eyes wide. She moves to set her phone back on the table, but Emily’s hand reaches out to stop her, lifting it back up to eye level. “We could stop, now. Delete from here.” 

Emily takes a breath. But she knows what she wants. “We asked for this,” she reminds her, and the two of them dive back in. “And… we have to know.” 

With Tara’s nod, they keep going. 

(The string of texts they get afterward are forever cemented into Tara and Emily’s memories. Not only that, but the both of them are eternally grateful that any consulting work Hotch or Morgan do is resigned to phone calls and emails, as they are uncertain they’ll ever be able to look either of them in the eye again.)

-

he keeps stopping me on the way to the bedroom to press me against the wall and slip his tongue in my mouth or to press me in between him and derek and trace his tongue down between my cleavage, so im already all worked up before we even get close to our room

and honestly. thank the universe that jack has been at a friend's this weekend because oh boy!! i have no desire to scar my beloved jack attack with his fathers'.... Behavior

ANYWAY and he doesn’t hesitate to pull my dress down, which, a) MEN, there’s a zipper, just tug a little, and b) SO hot when he just has to get right there as quick as possible, mouth on boob as soon as possible. not to mention derek is lifting my skirt and working on my tights, which, thank god, it was time to take those bad boys off after all day at a desk

so now derek is palming my ass and biting at my neck and aaron can't decide which nipple to suck on, so he's switching between them and groaning against my skin, and im just already so drenched

and then before i can blink, aaron, AARON, the only one without a singular drink tonight, looks up at me, and is on his knees. just drops. and i look down and he is under my skirt and before i can breathe his tongue is on my clit and he’s eating me out like he is dying of thirst ladies

and derek has to hold me up because we arent even in the bed and my knees buckle because oh my GOD he's not holding back at ALL, tongue flicking at my clit and then slipping inside of me and groaning against me again, and derek gives my tits some attention with a free hand as he murmurs in my ear and nibbles at my earlobe

and at that point im jello, im shaky, barely standing, i’ve got two gorgeous men determined to make me come, then then aaron is pulling one of my legs up over his shoulder, and he seems to remember, in that moment, my direct request and he works up to using three fingers to fuck me, stretch me open until im coming all over his against derek and unable to think let alone speak and say something coherent. but are we done? NO - not railed, ladies

and im just slumped on them both- which in reflection is such a marker of our love and how safe i feel with them because i was not supporting my own weight at all, and it didn't even occur to me- and aaron is kissing my thighs and smirking while derek nuzzles my cheek for a few moments before im unabashedly whining for more

and when aaron smirks, when he SMIRKS, you know he is not done. and derek does not hesitate, he is sucking marks into my neck and he is asking if im a good girl and deserve more (yes) before he and aaron almost fully lift me to get me to bed. i am now in bed. i have two gorgeous men standing over me, one of them with me all over his face and then i realize. im basically undressed and they have not BUDGED.

and that simply will NOT do, because i want to see my loves in all of their glory (i mean time and place- sometimes it really makes all three of us go crazy if they are fully clothed while im totally naked), but there's nothing i wont get if i break out the 🥺 look especially with my tits out and my legs spread open just right

so i break out the look, im 🥺🥺🥺 with the best of them, and derek and aaron look down at me and they’re so soft and gentle, all ‘what’s wrong, baby girl?’ and ‘what d’you need, pen?’ and it’s like, i need my boys, that’s what i need, and when i say glory i mean glory, i mean that you haven’t seen GOD until you’ve seen derek morgan and aaron hotchner strip off their clothes for you, all so they can make you come a Second time

and i dont even ask for it, but derek tugs hotch in for a kiss before either of them push off their boxers and that makes my heart melt cause any reminder i have won the cosmic lottery in terms of triadic love will do that to a person (and also my puss THROB cause they are just playing up the tongue so much and im so sure aaron still tastes like me, you know? so ridiculously outrageously hot) and then finally i watch them both slowly reveal themselves to me, which like is nothing new but still makes me feel crazy because jesus!!!!!! i can't even begin to explain how big they are

and so in my field of view are two perfect huge dicks, two perfect awesome men, and me on the bed whining for both of them!!! and i must get some full words out because derek is chuckling and kissing me and saying how i requested someone in particular first, and then aaron is lifting my leg and pushing his fingers back in me and then derek is asking if he can fuck my mouth which do i even have to say yes??? (obviously i do, good communication always, but it comes out as yesyesyesyesyes because OBVIOUSLY DEREK 🙄)

so then the both of them help me get on my hands and knees so my beautiful baby can curl his fingers against my gspot all slow and doing these tiny kitten licks against my clit while using his free (big, huge, STRONG) hand to grab at my hip so tight i still have the marks, while derek kisses me a few more times before maneuvering himself to get his gorgeous and divine cock brushing against my lips, but not fucking into my mouth even when i whine and stick out my tongue

i am trembling at this point, okay? i am on the brink — AGAIN — and i know he’s holding back for a reason because i have a great mouth and im VERY good at using it. but then i realize he’s looking up at aaron, too, GRINNING, says “ready, baby?” and before i can think he’s got his hand on my jaw and he’s telling me to open up, and then i feel aaron start to push into me as derek is feeding me his cock and im - im gone, im in heaven, im levitating okay, because i am stuffed full of cock at both ends and im in my happy place

cause ladies, i really dont think i can properly express just how fucking HUGE these two are, like my brain turns to mush with just one of them inside of me but both of them like that? oh my god, my brain was leaking out of my ears barely able to stay up on all fours- and they don't even move at first just this slow slow push in as deep as they can on that first thrust and then just waiting while i twitch and tremble in between

and don’t even talk to me about the sounds they’re making — derek goes all tight and tensed and “yea baby girl” so earnestly but aaron goes all slack-jawed and noises that don’t sound like anything other than him, and then when i look up, tears in my eyes from, well, these inches of cock im taking, derek, sweet incredible huge derek, asks me if im ready for more, and when i blink up, nodding, and he can tell im not tapping out that’s when they both FINALLY start moving

and they are so well practiced at moving in rhythm together, at first they are both thrusting in and out at the same pace, making me so full and then so empty all at once, and then slowly they start working towards a rhythm where im never empty which is precisely what i need and aaron is groaning and telling derek that im dripping and leaking all over his cock and derek thumbs at my cheek and tells me im "such a good girl, taking two big cocks and loving it, needing more" and aar is gripping at my thighs so perfectly

i know there’s gonna be marks there, later, and that when we’re all done he’s gonna kiss them all sweet and gentle and make sure im okay, but right now all i can think is nothing but oh my god and yes and more. and then i hear aaron say, “i know she wants more, she wants our cum, derek” and that’s it, he’s so smart, hits the nail on the head, and he can tell because im clenching around his cock and desperately swallowing around derek’s, and there’s no time for patience because he said it and that’s what i NEED in that moment, i need them to come inside me and on me and all of it

and they both GROAN and then aaron chuckles because i just proved him so right and he starts thrusting harder and faster. derek does too a little but he also worries about hurting my throat by being reckless, and it makes my head spin to feel how he loves me like that, but then my brain is mush again because aar is rubbing my clit and bemusedly wondering how much more im gonna come before they fill me up properly

and i know he wants me to come again but i want him to come inside of me and make it messy, and so what happens is im moaning around derek’s cock, who’s groaning and trying not to fuck my face too hard but he watching me and aaron who’s fucking into me and who now has both my legs spread so wide im just on full display, and each time he fucks into me im moaning again, and it’s just a cycle and they’re heaping on praise and before i can think im coming again around aaron because he has not let up on my clit, and then he’s pushing a finger inside along side his cock too and i don’t know how he hasn’t come yet but i know he’s close, and i know derek’s close, and i know they want a third orgasm out of me because they’re incredible and insane

and tears are on my cheeks and drool all over my chin at this point because it's just so much incredible and wonderful sensation and im so stretched around aaron anyway, but then he slips that finger in? god. it reminds me of the few times we've had the time and energy to, well have them both inside of me like that and im just trembling and whimpering around derek's cock and i thank my lucky stars i don’t have a cold so that derek doesn't have to take his cock out of my mouth at all at this, just fucking my throat and watching me get a little lightheaded from only breathing through my nose and how good im being fucked

and when derek starts biting his lip i know he’s close, and i know i am too, and then i feel the way aaron grabs at my thigh and shifts forward and then he’s fucking into me, and can twist that finger, and can hit my gspot until im seeing stars, and god bless his stamina but i finally feel his rhythm falter and for one blissful moment derek pulls out completely, and aaron is out of me too, and i just know what’s coming as i can take a full breath before i feel der fuck into my mouth, and then he’s coming, babes, he’s coming and i get to swallow it all, and aaron gets to watch the way i whine with it and he loses himself and then HE’S coming from being inside me and watching some of derek’s cum drip from my lips, and as he fucks his cum into that’s when the third orgasm hits and im just — im gone. i am GONE, ladies. i can’t believe im alive. standing. able to speak.

-

Tara’s eyes go wide. She hasn’t been able to breathe, let alone think for about twenty minutes. She turns to look at Emily, who, while getting these texts herself, has trouble breathing or thinking as she watches Tara type out some kind of response.

Her fingers start. Stop. Start again. Emily feels her pain, isn’t sure she’d even be able to respond after all of that. Her collar feels tight. “Good god, Pen.” 

When Tara sends it, Emily’s phone alerts her of the notification. She lifts it up to glance at it.

Tara: “holy… shit….” 

Pen: "but anyway :) i am so sore today in the best way and have used that leverage to be utterly pampered all day long :) i love my boys so much"

“I’ll say,” Tara laughs, and it’s a little hysterical, leaning back on the couch next to Emily, pushing fingers against her temple as she reaches for the wine in front of her. 

There’s silence in their house, save for Sergio’s lone meow as he bats at one of his toys in the other room. A needle could drop and it’d deafen the both of them, especially as Emily moves to lean against Tara and sigh. 

“She seems… happy,” she eventually settles with, hand moving down to gently rest on Tara’s thigh. "And she definitely knows how to tell a story, my lord."

“One word for it,” Tara concurs, taking a sip of her red. “Good for her.” 

And with one last glance to her phone, Emily lifts it, locks it, and reaches forward to set it down on the coffee table. “Good for her,” she repeats, with a solemn and a careful lift of her own glass. 

And when she raises it, Tara doesn’t hesitate, the gentle clink bringing Sergio running to curl up in a lap of his choosing.

[rosepetalwings]

Oh I'm More Than Glad To Talk About Deeprune

ok so lets run through the au in sections

DEEPRUNE

Story:

The cast are now all mythological mermaid/siren creatures.

The Light World is the epipelagic zone (and upper half of mesopelagic zone) of the ocean and live in ignorance of the strange creatures that look as they do in the twilight below...

Dark World is mid-mesopelagic and below, full of frightening sea creatures those so blessed to live in sea reef coral homes could never hope to fathom... and should never hope to meet.

One day, one of the 4 kings of the ocean basins drew help from a powerful, unknown force and imprisoned his peers at the bottom of the deep sea trenches... And to this day, he rules his little area, biding his time for the day the Dark can take over the Light.

That is, of course, unless a very human looking siren, a sea crocodile tough girl, a bioluminscent jellyfish(?) fluffy boy, and a villainous... cloaked hybrid thing can fulfill a very familiar prophecy...

Locations:

Light Zone

Hometown - A bright and cheerful coral reef with a good amount of merfolk in the community.

School ‐ Building constructed out of stone and hidden amongst normal marine foliage and coral. Normal congregations of school akin to what the land-dwellers (or terrans, as the merfolk might call them) do for their own children.

Hospital ‐ Made in the same way as the school and serves the same function as its land counterpart. The hospital does have different instruments to serve its marine patients, however.

QC's diner - Hidden under a rock shelf and is more of an open seating arrangement. Fan coral serves as a sort of decorative barrier to keep the seating plan from being too open.

ICEE's p"e"zzeria - Incredibly conspicuous and placed between the brightest coral on the reef for the attention-grabbing colors. High visibility means free advertising, no?

The Graveyard - In a clearing among the kelp forest, there lies a set of engraved stones covered in algae. It's especially quiet there. Peaceful when you focus on the sunlight filtering in through the kelp stalks.

The bunker - Placed just before the continental shelf begins to fall off into complete and utter darkness. The merfolk in town warn their children to never near that area.

Dark Zone

????? - A craggy mess of rocks on the outskirts of the continental shelf. The light begins to grow strange here for whatever reason...

Castle Town - A shipwreck amongst the craggy rocks in the dark where a strangely kind shadowy figure lives.

Field - A seemingly endless stretch of ocean in which a Lightner's vision alone cannot be used to find one's way in the dark, lest they be horribly lost until the end of time. Or lest they stray further down, where it grows darker, yet darker...

The Scarlet Forest - Not really a forest, per se. More a jestful remark over the collection of sea creatures that have evolved to have a red tone to their skin as camouflage in the watery depths. The creatures are so very frightening and strange with their sharp-toothed open maws and flashy photophores. Strange to think how normal this all is down in the depths...

Great Board - The inlets and caves that checker the continental slope and house very many deep sea merfolk. Very many large tunnels dug out to house many of the population and keep them interconnected as a society. Alas, this stationary grouping also makes them vulnerable to the power of kingly apex predators.

The Castle - Hidden within the depths of the Mariana Trench. None of the Board have seen the castle in such grave depths and lived to tell the tale. None but a strange barreleye and his hyper young ward...

Characters:

Lightners

Kris - A mostly human-shaped siren, save for fishy bits, including but not limited to, gills and an iridescent shine to their hair. Always sneaking off to play tricks on unsuspecting beach goers. Kind of a quiet kid but their mischievous grin says it all for them.

Susie - A rude, rough-and-tumble kind of sea crocodile gill girl that does not appreciate nautical wordplay. She will appreciate your lunch money, though.

Noelle - The most nervous kelpie you'll ever meet. Easily provoked but she's very sweet and intelligent and perhaps she's a shade dorky, but it's through that dorkiness she'll find a way to make you smile.

Asriel - Sweet and effortlessly loveable and smart and talented capricorn brother to Kris who's just gone off to do independent study in a different sea basin! He's coming back to town next week; Kris seems a little downcast as of late, though...

Alphys - Marine iguana teacher at the reef's local school. Please don't ask her for her reviews on neat human media she's managed to salvage, we'll be here all week.

Undyne - The undying undine on everyone's minds! ...Because she's likely tried to tackle you for minor offenses like littering or jay-swimming in the humdrum life of this little reef town. She's somewhat of a vigilante, working by her own judicial metrics and warning the reef of any terran sightings or other such troubles. Not much to report on though, these days...

Toriel & Asgore - The capricorn divorcees. Haven't you heard; the news has spread all over the place! What a shame too, they looked just like the perfect reef family...

Sans and Papyrus - The strange brothers that just moved into the reef... Coelacanth merfolk with mottled, skeletal appearances. The shorter brother "runs" the reef market. ...If you can get a fin in the door, anyway. The taller one hasn't made much of a public appearance in town yet; hard to comment on him.

Darkners

Ralsei - The prince of the prophesy, as well as the bringer of Light to the Dark, as symbolized through his charmed hat and cloak, to make him appear as though he is but a jellyfish that sways with the currents. Seems to be as soft in personality as a jellyfish's bell though.

Lancer - A hooded, mischievous figure that's always up to no good. It's kind of hard to tell what he is, with his short, stubby tentacles and furry, webbed paws, but he's kind of too adorable and personable to care much about it. Popular vote's on dumbo octopus though.

Rouxls - A vigilant barreleye with his haunting eyes always to the sky in search of tributes to pay his king or danger from which to protect the child of a royal bloodline he's been entrusted to care for. He's ditzy and kind of an asshole, but deep down, he's got a good SOUL... that glows through his transparent chest.

Seam - Ah? Looking for wares? Seam's will definitely have something to cure what ails you. The old anglerfish sits behind the shop counter, items lit only by the faint light of small jellies and the wisened shopkeep's lantern-like forehead protrusion. Go for the low prices and stay for the enchanting tales.

Jevil - A laugh sounds in the dark before you could ever approach his cell. He's nothing but needle teeth smiles when he explains to you the nature of the game. Numbers game. Must be a couple of sharks to have gotten down there in the first place. And this freed jester wouldn't have it any other way - sharks to goblin shark.

King - He is, by all accounts, imperceivable. He is larger than life and covered in shifting, writhing appendages that do not keep the shape you once thought them to be, no matter how hard you attempt to keep your focus on any point of his form. He is Leviathan, and the fact that you are before him means that you are incredibly fucked.

Knight - [REDACTED]

PREVIOUS DRAWINGS

Rouxls and a mysterious man

Unmasked Lancer

okay... i think that's about it! don't be afraid to ask for more clarification on anything, i know i gave general overview/musing blurb of... kind of everything i could think to describe! hope this is fine!

or ask me to infodump on another of my AUs! ;3c

[zayray030]

I love you because you're human.

Summary: Dick overhears Barbara, Roy, Jason, Tim and Stephanie talk about his ass and he starts to question the things around him. At least until Kori defends him and reminds her boyfriend that she loves him. Dickkori. Mild Barbra Bashing.

“So what was the best part about dating Dick?” asked Stephanie.

“Oh, definitely his ass. God it was glorious.” sighed Barbara, pretending to swoon. All but one stated laughing at her dramatics.

“Must have made it for his far less lovable qualities?” joked Jason.

“Oh absolutely. As long as I got to stare at it I would forget about his stupidity. Hell even before we started going out I thought his ass was enough for me to ignore him.” sighed Barbara.

Another round of laughter went around the group.

“So you got free access to the Grayson ass. Must have been amazing, eh?” joked Roy.

“Sometimes I wish we could still be dating, just so I could have free access to it. But alas, there's so much a nice ass can get you.” joked Barbara.

“Fair enough. Surprised its prettiness managed to last that long.” muttered Tim, over his fifth cup of coffee.

“Hey, Timmy. That amazing could get him away with anything.”

As they all continued to joke around about Dick, they never realised that said owner of such an amazing ass had his comm on and was listening to every little thing. Hurt and betrayed he threw his comm across the room, forgetting to switch it off.

Honestly, Dick didn't know why he was so upset. He knew that he had a pretty ass and it was part of the reason why so many people dated him, but it still hurt when his own siblings and his exes talked about him as if he was a piece of meat instead of human being with emotions and feelings.

Then he started to wonder if what they were was true. Did people only let him get away with things because he had a nice ass and not a nice personality.

He collapsed on the floor, tears falling out of his eyes as he thought, am I worth anything except a quick fuck?

~With the others~

“So did you actually like him, or did you just find him physically appealing?” asked Kori. With anyone else it might have sounded inquisitive, teasing even, but on Kori it sounded threatening. However everyone was too drunk to take notice of the alien princess's tone.

“I mean partially. The guy is nice and all and super intelligent but at times he's just so frustrating that you have to focus on the pretty part of him to make sure you remember why you dated him.” said Barbara dismissively, not realising that she had just opened up a beast.

“So, instead of talking it out like a normal couple, you sexualised him and didn't take his feelings for account?” asked Kori again, more instantly.

“I mean kinda. It isn't like the guy doesn't spend most of his time showing his ass of to everyone else.” she answered, the alcohol making her brain to mouth filter non existent.

“And he can't just be walking normally without being sexualised by everyone, can't he?” Kori asked sarcastically. By now Roy and Jason were starting to notice something bad was going to happen but they decided to stay out of it. They learned their mistake of getting the princess angry once, they weren't going to do it again.

“Not my fault he's pretty.” snapped Barbara defensively.

“Ladies, ladies. Let's not fight.” Stephanie says, trying to play the peacemaker but she immediately collapsed on the floor. Must have had one too many drinks. They heard another thud and they turned to see Tim passed out in front of his computer. Must have had an hour less sleep.

“What does his physical appearance have anything to do apart from the fact that you can't trust the man!?” snapped Kori, her eyes showing anger.

“That anyone would want a piece of him!”

“He's not everybody's type you know!” snapped Kori. Barbara just scoffed and then they heard another two thuds and turned to see Roy and Jason passed out with bruises on their faces.

They must have punched themselves unconscious to stay out of this fight. Pathetic.

“Oh yeah? You dated him princess! You can't exactly say you didn't like him for his ass either!” challenged Barbara.

“Actually I liked him because when I landed on earth he didn't try to take advantage of me! He made sure I was protected and safe! He gave me a home! He never degraded me!” yelled Kori at the other red head. Her hands were starting to heat up and if Barbara didn't know how to keep her mouth quiet then Kori wasn't going to be responsible for her actions.

“What-” before she could continue she collapsed in a thud. Kori rolled her eyes at her before quickly placing everyone in comfortable positions while also cursing them in every swear she knows.

She might be pissed but that didn't mean she was going to let them wake up with a stiff neck and a sore back.

However, while cleaning up she saw Jason's comm and found it open.

“Hello?” she called onto it.

“H-h-hey Kori.” came Dick’s voice after a beat of silence when Kori thought that whoever was there was gone.

“Dick, how much did you hear?” she asked worriedly.

“Enough.” he said, his voice scratchy.

“Where are you?” she asked, already heading out to the balcony of the safehouse.

“My apartment.”

“Wait. I'm coming over.” and before he could protest she threw the comm away and flew out.

~Dick’s apartment~

Dick sat nervously on his couch as he awaited for Kori to come over.

What was he supposed to say? “Hey thank you for sticking up for me against my ex and siblings.”? Like hell.

Dick jumped when he heard a knock on his window and he saw Kory flying there. He quickly scrambled up and opened it up.

“What were you thinking? Do you want people to know I'm a vigilante?” he hissed.

“Or people could think that your amazing girlfriend had decided to come over and see her clearly distraught boyfriend? Take your pick Dick.” she said sarcastically as she lounged down on his couch.

“KORI! I am not distraught!” he snapped, crossing his arms to make a point.

“Of course you aren't Dick. Just do me a favour and sit here.” she said patting her lap. Dick blushed bright red but did as she said, albeit with some insecurity in his movements.

“Did you mean what you said, earlier?”he asked nervously, looking up into his girlfriend's green eyes, full of warmth.

“Of course I did Dick. I won't deny it, you have a nice ass.” Dick looked down at that but Kori placed her hand under his chin and tilted his face up. “But I didn't fall for your body. I fell for you because even though you didn't know who I was you still decided to save me. I love you because despite all your faults you still try and push through. I love you because you care about me and my feelings. I love you because you're human and not a piece of meat.”

With every word she said Dick’s eyes grew wetter and wetter to the point where tears were just streaming down his face. Eventually he collapsed into his taller girlfriends chest and started sobbing. Kori just rubbed her hands up and down his back in a soothing gesture.

Eventually when he was done sobbing he looked up, a light blush on his cheeks. “I love you Kori.” he said shyly.

She smiled softly back and kissed his lips briefly.

“As I love you. Now let me show you just how much I love you.” she whispered seductively before picking Dick up and carrying him to the bedroom.

Dick squealed slightly before wrapping his legs around Kori’s waist.

It was going to be a very good night indeed.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

the small intestines squirm like eels

[Tour!verse]

TW: Period talk

——————

Joan wasn’t feeling good in the first place.

She groaned before her eyes were even open that morning. She cringed when she rolled over, feeling hot slickness between her thighs, and didn’t even want to look at the crime scene that she already knew was lying beneath her blankets. Remaining in the mess, however, was plain gross. It was going to be painful to stand, but if she lays in bed for too long then the fabric will stain, so she has no other choice but to haul herself up and save the bedding.

As if it were that easy.

Joan liked to describe the feeling she just went through as “the floodgates opening” because that’s exactly what it was. She was forced to kneel when the pain flares up, which only seemed to strengthen the flow when her knees parted and her vagina seemed to feel the need to open like a window during a hurricane. She prayed for her ruined undergarments and pajama shorts, which are sticky and wet around her legs, clinging tightly to her skin like they had been glued there.

Eventually, she gets herself to stand and, with trembling hands, carefully and quietly strips the sheets of the bed, relieved to find that the blood hasn’t soaked through to the mattress. She stumbles out of her bedroom, trying to keep the bloodstained part of the sheets angled forward and away from the rest of her body, but her groin was already sopping wet with what was probably twenty-five percent of her body’s blood, so hygiene didn’t really matter in the long run. On the short walk to the washing machine, she feels a slow drizzle of blood ooze its way down her leg and she had to suddenly urge to cut off her entire bottom half just so she wouldn’t have to feel her liquidated shredded uterus tickling against her skin.

Walking is uncomfortable, carrying fish-smelling sheets covered in her own blood isn’t any better, and the wet fabric of her shorts chafe horribly. It only gets worse when she has to stand up on her toes to grab the bottle of detergent on the shelf and she feels her stomach cramp, just to add it to it all.

Joan braces herself up against the washing machine once she starts it, trying to breathe through a particularly bad bouts of cramps. When she finally steps backwards, she cringes at the gross squelching from between her legs- her thighs are so wet she’s sure they’re going to be permanently stained red.

She awkwardly hobbled to the bathroom with fresh clothes and cleans herself up. She considers burning her shorts and undergarments, but she just throws them in the hamper for now (was it good to put them with the other dirty clothes? She didn’t know).

The hot shower she takes helps some, but only when she laid back on her back and let the scalding water patter against her pale, aching abdomen. However, the moment she moved, the cramps seized her lower stomach in a vice grip once again.

All she really wanted to do is curl up in a ball and cry.

But alas. She had a show to run, so she eventually hauled herself up, got ready, and walked to the theater.

In just a few minutes of her trek, the sharp cramps in her stomach had become violent spasms and the dull aching in her back turned into an intense, radiating burn. She was both sick with hunger and too nauseous to eat the granola bar she put in her bag two days ago. Her bladder and bowels ached. She was sweating from the pain of it all, but also shivering and weak from anemia. And, to top it all off was the gross, hot feeling of her uterus being filled to the absolute brim with blood and pressing uncomfortably up against her lower stomach with so much pressure she thought she would burst if the fluids weren’t deposited.

Needless to say, Joan felt like death warmed over with an extra pinch of suffering.

Somehow, she still found herself at the theater thanks to pure muscle memory alone, despite how sick and horrible and disgusting she felt. As much as she wanted to spend the whole day curled up in bed while cuddling her pillow close to her stomach, she knew she couldn’t skip out on rehearsals just because it was her time to suffer the teeth of shark week. The queens and other three ladies in waiting, as well as the female crew members, all suffered through their own every month- hell, they could be bleeding right now as well- and they were able to function just fine, although Bessie does have a tendency to not talk or move around too much, or simply not go out at all. Joan didn’t want to be that girl, especially since the director didn’t like it when someone chickens out just because of a little leaky vagina and stomach pain.

Though, that sounded like an impossible feat with the way that her frame shook from the exertion of standing alone. Joan’s whole body was as heavy as lead, everything in her entire being hurt, and it was all swirling in a kaleidoscope of pain until all she could focus on was how bad she felt. She was sure she could faint- could already feel the faintest numbness slowly creeping in on the edges of her consciousness, but she held strong until she just couldn’t anymore.

One of the worst cramps she’s ever felt in her entire young life hit her when she was in the middle of playing Don’t Lose Ur Head. She had been doing good at giving her usual commands during rehearsals and playing the first two songs, however, her concentration was rudely interrupted when the ovaries at the end of her Fallopian tubes seemed to morph into claws and viciously stab her from the inside, causing her to slam her hands down on the keys of the keyboard and completely ruin the song.

Joan didn’t feel the hot embarrassment that filtered through her- the pain in her stomach overpowered every other sensation in her body. She could, however, miraculously still see through the raging storm of black spots across her vision and saw Anne on the other side of her keyboard, looking absolutely annoyed and confused, like she could see the invisible ovary-claws goring their way out of Joan’s abdomen. The way the queen’s mouth opened and closed as she searched for something to say to the clearly-distressed MD might have made Joan laugh if it weren’t for the fact that laughing pulled the muscles in her stomach even tighter until it felt like they would snap.

“What happened?” Anne finally said.

“Nothing,” Joan grits. She hopes they can’t see the way she’s clutching at her stomach with one hand. “I’m fine-” Nobody has asked if she was okay. “Just- Just give me a moment.”

Anne frowned, probably from annoyance, but nodded and started to converse with Jane.

Joan swallowed thickly and only then realized how thirsty she was. Her water bottle was in her dressing room (she never brought liquids anywhere near her keyboard). She would have to stand up and go get it herself because there was no way she would ask one of the others for help. Not like they would say yes, anyway.

She took several deep breaths and then stood up- too fast. She stood up too fast and now the room is spinning and she needs to regain her balance but there’s nothing to brace herself on.

Joan ends up tottering awkwardly to the side, not seeing all the amused looks she gets because of the stars that flit across her vision. After a moment of awkward floundering, how to walk properly comes back to her and she exits the room, not saying where she was going or why she was walking out on rehearsals.

The theater hallways felt like they were closing in on her. They seemed to be shifting and swaying and crushing her until she couldn’t breathe. Upon stumbling into her dressing room, however, they release her trembling body.

Joan staggers over to her desk (which she careens into on accident) and picked up her water bottle. For once, she wasn’t drinking coffee. In fact, the thought of caffeine repulsed her. All she wanted was the coolness of the water, so she raised the bottle to her lips and-

Hot.

She was hot. She was so hot, so she tips back a bit further and pours the water over her face. She instinctively sucks at the moisture spilling out over her skin, desperate to quench her thirst, but her brain was now more set on cooling her body before it got cooked inside of her skull.

When most of the water is gone, only then does Joan realize what she’s doing. She jerks up, agitating her stomach and sending a wave of queasiness over her. A hand slaps over her mouth and she holds perfectly still until the nausea recedes, only to be replaced with a horrible cramp. She whimpers and hunches over her desk, feeling simultaneously burning hot and freezing cold. Shivers start to wrack through her body- or had she been shivering this entire time?

There was no time to dwell on this, however, because footsteps were approaching. Joan tried to push herself up and act like she was about to walk out, but she couldn’t move. Not that it would have mattered, anyway. She didn’t have a good excuse for why her face and hairline and shirt were all wet.

“Joan?”

The slightly Welsh-tinged accent lets Joan knew that it was Aragon she would have to face. She liked to think that she and the queen had a good relationship, but she didn’t know how she would manage against the frightening lady while like this.

“Joan.”

Her name was said louder this time. Not as a question. It was a call- a demand.

“I-” Her voice breaks off. If she tried to speak again it would come out as a whimper. And Aragon hearing that was really not something she wanted to have happen.

Footsteps approach her desk- Aragon is walking towards her. She held her ragged breath, hoping the queen would just go away. But then there’s a hand on her tense back and a tutting noise above her and she knows she’s in for it now.

“My, are your muscles tight.” Aragon crooned from above. She began to massage the area between Joan’s shoulder blades with the heel of her palm, eliciting a sharp gasp from the music director. “What’s going on with you?”

“I’m sorry.” Joan instinctively blurted.

“That’s not what I asked, Juana.”

That was her name in Spanish, wasn’t it? Oh dear. She was in for it now.

Joan shyly looked up at Aragon, who had a surprisingly patient look on her face. Usually the queen would blow her top if someone didn’t reply to her within seconds. Why wasn’t she snapping?

“Well?” Aragon raised an eyebrow.

“I-I...” Joan swallowed thickly. Her cheeks are growing hot by the moment- she wouldn’t be surprised if any water left on her face turned to steam with how hard she was blushing. “I just- I need a moment, that’s all.”

Suddenly, the back of a hand is pressed to her cheeks and she squeaked in alarm. Her blush darkens from hot pink to deep red.

“You’re very warm.” Aragon murmured, concern leaving her voice. Her hand slide up to feel the girl’s forehead. That’s exactly when she notices one of Joan’s hands gripping at her stomach.

A smirk spreads across her lips.

“Oh.” She tittered. “I see.”

Joan froze. Red really didn’t go well with her platinum blonde hair.

“I’m sorry.” She stuttered out. Shame overpowers the cramps. She doesn’t know which one she hates more.

Aragon chuckled and started to walk for the door without another word. The fear of her telling the others sends Joan scrambling after her and latching tightly to her sleeve.

“W-wait!” Joan cried, her voice raising up a few octaves. “P-please don’t tell them! Please, Aragon, I’ll do anything!”

Aragon blinked before she realized what Joan meant. She gently cups either sides of her the girl’s heated face.

“Hush, darling.” Aragon told her. “I’m going to get you some medicine, alright? Just lay down on the couch and wait for me.”

Joan opened and closed her mouth before relenting and nodding. She slumped over on the couch after Aragon left, and that’s when the cramps decide to make themselves known again.

Aragon is only gone for a minute and a half and Joan’s delirium-riddled mind has already began to hiss horrible words of abandonment. Things like: Aragon had lied to her and was telling everyone else or she was just acting like she cared and won’t come back for her. Tears start to brim in Joan’s eyes as the degrading thoughts grew louder and louder. She couldn’t even hear the door to her dressing room open back up again due to how much they screech.

“Juana, Juana, sweetheart,” A hand is gently pressing on her shoulders. “I’m right here. It’s okay.”

Joan’s glossy eyes widen. She saw that Aragon kneeling there, expression twisted with worry. She tries to get to her, but the queen pushes her back down.

“Don’t move.” Aragon scolded lightly.

“Aragon-”

“Shh, shh,” Aragon hushed her, stroking the girl’s messy, wet hair. “I’m right here, darling. You’re alright.”

“No, no-” One hand moves to grip back at her stomach as Joan shook her head. “It hurts too much, Aragon. I think I’m dying...”

“Don’t be daft,” Aragon said. She notices the embarrassed flush that flames on Joan’s face and she gently caresses her cheek to quell her shame. “Eve’s curse is a terrible one. But I have some medicine here for you.”

She has two pills of Ibuprofen in her hands. She looks back at Joan pitifully.

“I assume you didn’t take anything.”

Joan shook her head slowly.

“Oh, you poor thing...”

“I-I forgot to buy some.” Joan stuttered out weakly. She couldn’t remember if that was true or not. Maybe she just didn’t care enough about her body to by medicine for herself?

“We’ll have to change that whenever you feel better. We can get you proper groceries.” Aragon decided. “For now, take these.”

With minimal difficulty, Joan manages to swallow the pills with the water bottle Aragon she also provided (and this time she didn’t pour it all over herself). She slumped back down on the couch, panting. Heat flashes are becoming more common by the minute. She wants to peel her clothes off, and then her skin, but even then she probably won’t be cool.

“I don’t think- I don’t think I can go back to work.” Joan whispered hoarsely. “I’m sorry, Aragon. It- it hurts too much. And I’m so hot... I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Shh...” Aragon murmured. “I understand, pumpkin. I’ll let the others know, alright? You just stay here and rest up.”

“Y-you’re leaving me?” Joan squeaked.

Aragon frowned and she gently strokes Joan’s hair to calm her.

“I have to get back to rehearsals. But I’ll come check on you soon, alright? Then I’ll take you home.”

Joan nodded begrudgingly. She couldn’t hold Aragon back. Besides, a nap sounded nice, anyway...

—

Joan doesn’t really remember drifting off. Nor does she remember being woken up and escorted out to a taxi by a golden angel, but, somehow, she’s in her flat when she wakes up and the wonderful smell of something is wafting through the air.

When she tries to sit up, a cramp stabs at her and she collapses back down with a hiss. Dizziness washes over her and she waits for the world to stop spinning. There’s a face peering down at her when she opens her eyes again.

“There’s my sweet girl.” Aragon purred, smiling lovingly. She chuckles at the way Joan blinked up at her adorably. She helps her sit up. “Have a good nap?”

“Mhm...” Joan replied sleepily. She looked around. “How...?”

“You don’t remember coming home?” Aragon tilted her head. “You really were tired, huh?”

“I guess so...” Joan said, then winced. She squeezed her aching stomach tightly. “Ow ow ow...”

Aragon quickly retrieves some more painkillers and a glass of water, which Joan gratefully takes. She also notices that the queen is offering her a tampon and she blushed shyly.

“Oh, I- I don’t use tampons.”

Aragon furrowed her eyebrows.

“They scare me.”

Aragon blinked. Joan quickly jumped up and hurried to the bathroom. She heard laughter from behind her and she couldn’t help but smile giddily at the fact that her flat with filled with such a sound. She wasn’t alone.

So, when she came out of the bathroom, the first thing she did was hug Aragon from behind as she was preparing lunch and whisper her thanks. Aragon replied by setting her hands over Joan’s own and squeezing lightly and, from her soothing touch, the dull pain in Joan’s stomach ebbs completely.

[the-gay-trashmouth]

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Underage drinking/smoking

Ship(s): Javid, background sprace and Newsbians

Notes: This is pure fluff. Im so sorry it took me this long, brain is a bitch but i really tried.

~~~~~~~~~

Davey Jacobs was, as they say, a good jewish boy. He didn’t drink, he didn’t smoke, and the only drugs he took were his antidepressants and anxiety stabilizers.

So, how the fuck did mister golden child end up at a party like this with friends like these?

Around him, the friends in question danced around Katherine’s living room as Billie Eilish filtered through the speakers. Half of them were drunk off the vodka Mush had somehow gotten hold of and the other half were high from the weed Davey knew Albert got from one of his older brothers, even though the red-head swears he has some top secret dealer.

The only sober one aside from himself was Spot, who didn’t drink and refused to get high with so many people around. Davey had really only ever seen him high once, and that was the night of Jack’s 17th birthday when the five of them, Crutchie, Jack, Race, Spot, and Davey himself, all went up to the roof to smoke.

Apparently, the King a’ Brooklyn was a giggly stoner.

Davey also found out that he was a philosophical stoner, but he’ll keep that to himself. He would actually be murdered if his mother ever found out what really happened at Jack’s 17th birthday party, and he quite enjoyed being alive at the moment.

Now, ever so tragically, the only other sober person there was currently making out with Race on the couch, and Davey had less than zero interest in going anywhere near that. So he stood against the wall, sipping his lemonade and laughing quietly to himself when his intoxicated friends made absolute drunken fools of themselves.

He heard a commotion from the other room, but before Davey even had time to wonder what it was, Jack somehow appeared from the void and draped an arm around Davey's shoulders. Though he had gotten much more used to the casual touches and surprise arms slung around his shoulders, Davey's brain still gave him a brief error message whenever it happened.

He shook it off and looked at Jack with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“Hey Dave” he slurred in the taller boy's ear. David shook his head and tried his hand at a grin, though it looked more like a grimace when he scrunched up his nose up at the sent of the strawberry liquor.

“Hello Jack”

“Hey Dave?” This time it was a question instead of a greeting.

“Yes Jack?”

“Hey Daaave?” Jack either didn’t hear him or was too drunk to register that Davey had answered already. Davey just snorted softly and rolled his eyes.

“Whaaaat?”

Jack paused, looking up at him with the best puppy dog eyes his intoxicated brain could muster. Davey, for his part, was pretty okay, amused even, despite the fact that the smell of vodka on Jack’s breath was starting to make his head hurt.

“You should come play truth or dare with us,” he said, and immediately Davey ducked away, causing Jack to stumble forward without Davey to hold him up.

“No”

“But Daveyy!”

“But nothin’” davey crossed his arms and fixed Jack with his best motherly glare. Alas, it did not work and Jack just tried again.

“C'mon!” He tugged at Davey's arm and gave his best pleading look.

“Jack, buddy, pal, my platonic soulmate- there is no way I'm playing truth or dare with all of our intoxicated friends” he said decisively, “Jacky, I wouldn't play truth or dare with our friends sober. I love you all, I really do, but I don't trust any of you with my free will”

“Pretty pleease” Jack was now hanging fully off of David’s arm, begging like a child. David’s mouth quirked up into a smile for a brief second but returned to its usual motherly look.

“Not happenin’” Jack looked up at Davey with pleading eyes and the taller boy sighed. He really wasn’t getting out of this. Jack would just keep begging and begging until he gave in, there was literally no other option but to play.

“Alright alright, you win. I’ll play. But only for like two rounds!” he held up two fingers for emphasis and Jack grinned, grabbing his wrist to drag him towards the group already circling up.

There was a chorus of drunken whoops as he sat down in the circle. Spot raised an eyebrow at him as he begrudgingly joined them.

“Thought ya ain’t the type for these party games?” he asked, combing his hands through Race’s dirty blonde curls as the italian’s lips acted as chimneys, blowing curls of smoke in Spot’s face.

“Hey! I’m not some stick in the mud! I can have fun!” he replied indignantly. Spot just fixed him with an unimpressed look, though he wore it so often Davey thought that it may have just been his default expression.

Still, the taller boy sighed in defeat, “yeah, I’m not. But I suppose I am for tonight.”

Spot nodded, raising his capri sun at him in a toast as though it was a distinguished wine or manly beer, not a kids juice in a pouch. The sight made Davey chuckle softly to himself, The King a’ Brooklyn, scariest teen in New York, rumored to have connections to the mob, toasting his joining of truth or dare with a capri sun.

Really, why was the entire city so scared of this guy?

David jumped as Jack plopped down beside him, arm around his shoulder again. He blinked away the error message and sighed.

It started out innocently enough, weird as it was. Blink had to chug the rest of the voldka, Hotshot had to do a headstand for a full minute, and Race had to sit on Spot’s shoulders for the rest of the game. (He didn’t mind)

David also found out that JoJo once hooked up with an alter boy in church, Kathrine once blackmailed both of the Delancy brothers into doing her bidding for a full month, and Mush failed second grade and then skipped third.

“So, Spot, buddy, truth or dare?” Mush grinned drunkenly at him, draped over Blink’s lap.

“Truth”

Mush booed. “Boring~” he groaned, “fine, what's your real name?”

Race looked up at him anxiously, but Spot just nodded. “Ah, yes, funny story-” instead of finishing his sentence, he snatched the bottle of alcohol from Jack and took a swig.

“Oh, C’mon!” Spot just grinned, shuddering at the taste before passing it back to Jack.

“So, Jackie boy, truth or dare?”

Jack grinned, “Dare, I ain't no coward”

Spot raised an eyebrow, looking at Race for a beat before grinning like a shark. “A’ight, mista brave boy, I dare ya’ ta kiss the prettiest person in the room. Anyone’s up for the chopping block, except of course my Racer here,” David knew Spot was at least buzzed as he looked up to grin at Race as the other boy “aww”d and pressed a sloppy kiss to the corner of his mouth. Albert made a gagging noise as Race flipped him the bird.

David looked at Katherine with a raised eyebrow. Everyone remembered when she and Jack dated in their sophomore year. It ended badly, but they got to be friends again. Now, Sarah was passed out in her lap, arms wrapped loosely around her middle.

She was most certainly over him now, but he still assumed that she’d be who Jack choose.

So imagine his surprise when lips landed on his cheek.

He was too frozen in shock to really register the whoops and whistles coming from their mutual friends. He looked at jack, blue eyes wide as saucers, only to see the other boy with a lopsided grin.

Spot snorted, “that wasn’t even a real kiss! Thought you wasn’t a coward?”

“Hey! It’s rude to just go an’ kiss a fella!” he argued, “I ain’t kissin’ him ‘less he wants me too!”

“He does, trust me” Sarah grumbled from her spot in Katherine’s lap.

“Saz!”

“What? Ya’ do”

David sputtered, cheeks reddening be the second. His breath caught in his throat when Jack brought his hands up to cup his cheeks. He smiled before leaning in a bit. “Please tell me you’re okay wit’ this” he said almost breathlessly.

“I uh, yeah,” David cursed his stutter for probably the millionth time in his life, “Yeah, total-”

He was cut off with Jack’s lips on his. He dully registered the whoops and hollers from the teenagers around his but currently his senses were overtaken with just Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack.

When they pulled back, they were both breathless. David looked up at Jack, who hadn’t stopped grinning.

“That- I… You taste like vodka.”

[caitlindawart]

Producing our Sculpture - Workshop with Martin Copley.

For our ceramics workshops, we worked with sculptor and artist Martin Copley, who specialises in sculpting human heads. He spoke to us about his work and his interests in ceramics, before starting with demonstrating to us how to sculpt a human head of our own. 

We began with two balls of clay, slightly larger than the palm of our hand. We rounded these balls of clay and then made a hole with our thumb in the ball, producing what is known as a “pinch pot”, as we made the rim of the pot thinner by pinching and smoothing it out, keeping our thumb inside the pot. Once we had done this to both pots, we could then join the two together, making a ‘peanut’ shape, which we then rolled and smoothed to produce a head shape. Then, we used the crevice between our thumb and forefinger to produce an indent 2 thirds of the way down the head, which when smoothed produced the neck indent. From here, we now had a defined head and neck, and could then go on to build the facial features. To do so, we made a T shape in the centre of the head with our thumb and forefinger, producing two eye sockets and the base of a nose. At this point, we added the eyes - ‘2 eggs’ into the sockets, with ‘2 sausages’ above and below each ‘egg’. Then, we blended in the ‘sausages’, creating eyelids. Next, I built upon the nose, adding more to the bridge of the nose, then going in to add the tip of the nose and adding definition around the corners of the nose - called the ‘ala’. Next, I added two more sausages in the mouth area, with the one on top being longer than the one below, and blended these into the head, adding the philtrum to create lips. Although this was my first attempt at ever sculpting with clay, I didn’t feel as though it was as effective as it could have been and didn’t actually look entirely realistic. The lips seemed too small, and the eyes seemed very wide and close together.

After making the first sculpture, we were then instructed to produce a second head, this time much larger. To start the base of this head, we had to work slightly differently to when we worked on a smaller scale, this time building the height of the head upwards using thick sausages of clay as oppose to using two pinch pots joined together. Once the base of the head was built, the facial features were applied in the same way as explained above. This time, however, I had slightly more experience and understanding than the first, and found working on a larger scale much easier. To improve on my first attempt, I realised the eyes needed to be spaced much further apart, so did this on my larger head, making it look considerably more realistic. I also decided I wasn’t very pleased with the hair on my original sculpture and didn’t feel it looked very realistic, so instead opted for individual waves of hair which I applied, smudged and blended out, and then worked into with the hair making tool. I felt this looked very effective and I believe the hair is my favourite bit of the second piece.

From here, I also questioned Martin on more ways to improve my head and make it look more realistic, to which his response highlighted the fact that my larger head needed tear ducts adding, and the lips didn’t seem very well shaped and therefore decreased the realistic aura of the piece. To fix this, I added another ‘sausage’ above the top lip, blending it into the top lip and ensuring to add the philtrum again, which I was extremely pleased with; and also added the tearducts. 

I then also added one more ‘sausage’ above each eyelid as I felt the eyes currently looked too sunken in, and after blending this out I was very pleased with the eyes and felt they looked very realistic. A final mistake I spotted, was that the face of the large head looked too flat, and therefore I added one ball of clay to each cheek and blended out, creating cheek bones. Doing so made the face really effective and I was now very pleased with it. The first image below is before all of these additions, and the one below is once all of these additions were added.

I properly made an attempt at thinning the hair that framed the face as I wanted it to be as realistic as possible and at the moment it looked slightly ‘blocky’, so I used a flat tool and a my finger to rub the clay from the top with the tool beneath, making the clay thinner. Doing so made the effect that the hair wasn’t just stuck to the face, instead it had volume and body of its own.

At this point, I asked Martin again for any other advice before I marked it as complete, to which his response was to just clean and neaten up the neck, as the rough edges would break off during the firing process. I cut the rough edges with a knife, producing a clean cut base, and then decided to add a pattern to the base of the neck, replicating a blouse to make the whole piece look more realistic. After adding ‘buttons’, I felt this was very effective and at this point I had completed my final piece.

The difference between my first attempt and second attempt is stark. I was actually very surprised, looking between the two, at how much it is possible to improve in a matter of hours/a day. The comparison can be seen below. 

Surprisingly, I enjoyed the process and really enjoyed working at a larger scale. I found the methods of using the ‘sausages’ and ‘eggs’ easy to remember, and working with an artist who was also a teacher was considerably more helpful as he was able to give us helpful tips, ways of remembering things, as well as constructive criticism which allowed us to produce a better, much more realistic outcome. I don’t know whether I will be using clay again in my future development, but I was surprised with how pleased I was with my end result and enjoyed being thrown out of my comfort zone but in a relaxed manner. 

Glazing

After all of our sculptures were finished, we then had to put them in the kiln to bake. We had the choice of glazing our pieces in black or white, or no glaze at all, which produces a ‘smoked’ black/grey/green colour. I covered my large head in black glaze and the tiny head in white glaze. We then transported them to Martin’s where we fired them in two separate kilns as not to get the glazes mixed up and ruin the colours. 

Below is a step by step of the firing process:

After leaving the heads in the kiln, the heads are then taken out of the kiln and are put into an air tight metal case filled with wood shavings. 

This sets the wood shavings alight as it removes the oxygen from the copper carbonate, leaving the copper behind. 

When removed, they are then placed on the ground and are the correct colour as glazed. For the white glaze they remain white, and for the black glaze they turn a petrol spill colour due to the remaining copper.

Here is another example, this time using the white glaze in the white kiln.

Here is the outcome of my ceramic head workshops. I was more pleased with the black glaze outcome due to the petrol spill finish than I was the white glaze.

Second Workshop - Creating a Sculpture to be Installed in a Specific Location

For the second half of our workshops with Martin, he spoke to us about his inspirations; Sally Matthews’ ceramic installations in Grizedale Forest and the Prague Holocaust Memorial amongst many others. Our next instruction was to produce a sculpture to be ‘installed’ - via Photoshop, in a specific location. I took to Pinterest for inspiration, finding different types of sculpture which I felt were effective. I chose to produce an octopuses tentacle, which I would then edit around a boat in Photoshop, with my initial sketch inserted below.

I sculpted the tentacle, adding the suckers separately and ensuring to blend them properly to prevent them from falling off. Once I had done so, I then dried the sculpture with the hair dryer, as we weren’t going to be firing these small sculptures in the kiln. Unfortunately, once dried, the thin end of the tentacle broke off. I glued this back together using hot glue, but was left with a messy result. Then, I took images of my sculpture, seen below, ready to edit in Photoshop. 

From here, I opened the most effective image into Photoshop, alongside an image of a ship wreck that I had previously taken. 

On top of this I added an octopus skin texture which I had downloaded from the internet. 

Then, I played around with blending modes in the same way I had with the abstract photography edits. I increased the brightness to 130 and the contrast to 100, then added a colour balance layer of 100 red, 83 green and 100 blue. Finally I increased the exposure to 0.28 and the contrast to 21. Now, I was pleased with the blue shade of the tentacle and the blending of the texture, I was able to “superimpose” the tentacle onto my image of the boat. 

To start with, I brought the edited tentacle layer into the image, and duplicated this layer, then added a hue/saturation filter to it, removing all the colour from the shape to produce a black shadow. Then, I moved the two into position, removing areas of the shadow which weren’t needed, and adding a shadow from the base of the tentacle. 

I realised, however, that due to the boat being on sand and not in water, it wouldn’t have made sense for the tentacle to be coming out of the ground, so I changed my plan, using a water background and adding more shadows in. I was much happier with this outcome, and whilst I felt that the octopus texture was too large, I still felt overall it was effective and I was pleased with the finished piece, seen below.

Life Drawing

To end our ceramics workshops, we finished with a life drawing using clay. Our model sat front on in a comfy chair for 2 hours, while we sculpted her and the chair. Surprisingly, I really enjoyed this and was very pleased with the start I made, however I wish we had had more time with her as I wanted to add details etc, but instead only got the basic chair and figure. Whilst we had the opportunity to carry on sculpting the day later, I didn’t feel as though this was as authentic as I wanted so didn’t add any more without the model present.

[iamcrimelord]

THE GHOST OF ZAUN

Fan Fiction for Arcane/League of Legends, AU set to right after the aftermath of Jinx's attack.

Warning: There is gore and violence.

Chapter 1: Welcome to the Jungle

The first thing Daigo noticed as he set foot through the portal leading to Zaun was the smell. It was thick with gaseous fumes. This far down below that really didn't surprise him, people tend to forget that gasses don't just keep rising eventually they fall back down and settle, essentially making the underground one giant soup bowel of toxic gas. Was it any wonder then that reports of the undercity were so bad? He had heard stories, apparently fresh air was a luxury item down here. Meanwhile elsewhere, people could get that for free by virtue of being born on the right side of the river. But what this area lacked in cleanliness, it made up for in opportunity. He had heard stories of the ingenuity of the people of Zaun. He had also heard that Zaun was a hive of scum and criminality. He grinned at that thought. Meant he had a nice hunting ground to work with as well as a giant laboratory to operate in. He tipped his top hat forward, and his mask came down from the rim and covered his face to filter out the air. While toxins were not a concern for him given his.... condition, the smell however was awful, and he refused to assault his already enhanced senses with the stink. He cracked his neck, took off his hat, pulled a walking cane out of it, put it back on, and then made his way down the street. As he walked, he took in the sights. Neon lights, food stalls with questionable cuisine. Ladies and Gentlemen of the night offering their goods to passersby and gold that had the grime of ill deeds on them. He saw a few law officers walk by, themselves with faces hidden by filtering masks. Ironic, he thought to himself. They know how bad the air is down here but do nothing to help those that piltover would call their citizens. Then have the audacity to to be offended when they try to improve their means, often times through fowl deeds by simple virtue of the fact that they had no other recourse. As he walked he could see folks eying him. To be fair, he did stand out. He was tall with a lean frame. Long jet black hair that went down to his back, red eyes that were visible even behind the mask, top hat with skulls on the hat band, long black trench coat with a suite, tie, and vest and metal boots that went up to his knees that made sparks as he walked. But the biggest thing that drew their eye was his right arm. It was a black wooden thing, like an evil tree. With bark twisted and gnarly giving it a muscular look to it. The thumb and middle finger on that arm were not wooden like the other digits however, but made of gold and were mechanical. Not that he could not grow those fingers back...he just thought it looked good. His left hand was covered in a black glove and his left shoulder had a shoulder cape flipped over to his back. By all accounts he looked like a rich man that choose a very bad neighborhood to take a stroll in. A notion that was reinforced to some cut purses that followed Daigo as he walked into an allyway... aware that he was being followed.

Daigo Gripped his cane. Grinning widely beind his mask, sharp teeth hidden by the visage of the skull themed mask he wore, a golden canine tooth replacing one of his fangs. He stepped into the dead center of the allyway...and then turned. "Can I help you gentlemen?" Daigo asked, looking at the cut throats following him. "Well.....you see gov', its like this... we're a might firsty and you strike me's a man what got some extra coin on hand....care to lend us a few bits for a pint?" Daigo's eyes flashed for a moment. Oh he loved it when they tried to play cute. "I would my good man, but alas I'm new to this area and have not yet made the right exchanges to get the local currency. You'll have to ask someone else." The cut throats simply looked at each other and smiled. "Oh now.... surely you've somefin' you could part wif? Like that fancy hat or them boots..." The drew their blades as they got closer now, no longer even attempting to hide their intentions. "tsk, tsk, tsk. Willing to kill a man for a good pair of boots, you know if I'd slaughtered your parents or gave you a hideous scar I could appreciate that." He gripped the bird head on his cane and drew the sword that the cane was hiding. "But killing out of something so trivial... well... I think the decent folks who live down here will appreciate having the cancer cut out." "you having a laugh there mate?! There's free of us an' only one o' you!" Daigo chuckled. "you're right....its not a fair fight." He tossed the man his cane sword. "you've only got knives.....maybe this will even things up a little." The leader of the trio grabbed the cane sword by the blade and yelped when he got cut....but he gripped the sword and held it up, smirking. "well well...I do love the crazy ones...." Daigo began to cackle. "Oh my dear boy, I'm not crazy. I'm not even mortal." He suddenly spread his feet apart, stretched out his arms, and hunched over a bit. He then cackled madly and a blood red aura formed around him as his right hand grew long black thorns for finger nails, and the left hand sprouted long black finger nails from the tips of his leather gloves. "I am however....Starving." He suddenly dashed at the three before they could even scream. Blood exploding in the ally covering the walls and street with crimson liquid.

[archivezosia]

Drunk Minds, Lonely Hearts ....continued Timeline: Approximately 1.5 months ago Sweden

It was inevitable that this would where the two of them would meet once more, in a much more undignified way, admittedly — but it was upon this terrace that Annika left a piece of her heart, the first time they met. It was an inside joke between them, or a satirical term of an endearment, that the garden was to neither’s liking on account of it’s plastic foliage and unnatural decor. But still, because of Zosia, it had become a setting she found herself picturing in her dreams. Annika would have most likely trailed up there by herself, even if she had not had notification and temptation to join Zosia there. Alcohol had it’s strange effects on her, she was one of two extremes; mouthy and hyperactive or dreamy and pensive, reserved and contemplative. She’d go from Brian Blessed to Leonard Cohen in the blink of an eye. Tonight, she found herself somewhere in between. Her poetic soul shone through in a loud fashion that was quite uncharacteristic. Drink enhanced her, and that was what she believed alcohol was supposed to do — times you by ten. Her mind concocted plans that if summoned in sobriety would be shunted, deemed ridiculous and therefore instantly dismissed. But under the influence of alcohol, Annika’s body tended to obey, if somewhat wearily. What never discouraged her were the stories she would hear of her own disorderly doings. They were always far fetched and hilarious and in the aftermath of regret, she would wear them with pride. She was the girl who once threw pudding at her boss during a company meal. The mad woman who climbed onto the roof of a restaurant and ‘rode’ the dragon statue. The legendary Annika Johansson, who was placed under citizen's arrest by a bus driver for mooning out the rear window. Her reputation back in Malmö exceeded her; it came somewhat as a relief to be able to have a clean slate, to be able to leave the badge of drunken lunatic behind. She wasn’t that person anymore, not in this city. Not with this woman.

An unattractive cackle rose from her belly, developing from a snort. Her state withdrew her ability to control her reactions, also, which did not bode well with her affections for Zosia. When you can guffaw like a drain and raise your voice decibels that humans should not be able to reach, the aptitude to tame those unsightly factors was mandatory. Particularly when in the presence of someone she was normally so conscious to impress. Alas, Zosia may well have been in the midst of discovering Annika’s Mr Hyde. The cheer from her fellow drunk triggered a clumsy curtsy, from which on the way back up she lost her balance and had to grab a wall she was thankfully stood close to in order to catch herself from yet another painful tumble. This only provoked further echoing cackles from the poet. Subsequently, she plonked herself down on the grass beside Zosia, perhaps planting herself a little too close, but contemplation was also binned from the assets of a drunkard. All she could concentrate on now was the adorable poem Zosia had just spoke to her. It had tinted her cheeks — no, her whole face red. “—Your rhyming skills you should not poo poo, your self deprecation does make me feel blue, but I’m stealing this now and I hope that’s not rude.” Clearing her throat which had began to gurgle perhaps with the volume of passion that was stewing in her stomach, Annika nudged the other woman affectionately as she took their rhyme just that little too far. “Please stop me if I over do, but my feelings for you are well overdue. You’re personification of sweet honeydew, for you I would walk to and from Timbuktu—” words fizzling off, like a firework that forgot to bang, Annika was all of a sudden the quietest she had been all evening. Perhaps that contemplative skill she’d left at the door had crept it’s way back in, and the realization of the words she had just not so cryptically hid in her rhymes had dawned on her. Or more likely, it was the closeness between them, the closest they had been. She craved closer still but did not like to be greedy, and simply was not quite bold enough, so rounded her poem to a close. “…And I’m awfully grateful for this, our rendezvous.”

The existence of ghosts on the rooftop weighed debatably on Zosia’s mind as she observed the wobbly manner Annika carried herself, reminiscent of newborn gazelle on slippery ice, as if an unseen poltergeist was clumsily puppeteering her movements. Not trusting that her own sense of impaired mobility would allow her to be of any decent assistance, she was forced to stay planted in place as nervous bubbles swelled and burst within the walls of her stomach. Expression brightening with relief once her loud and curly-haired shooting star finally landed on earth, she drunkenly attempted to click her tongue in disapproval at the risky business she had been forced to witness. ‘Attempt’ had grown into a generous term for failure over the course of the night; a timeline during which the reader had been committing an abundance of uncoordinated mistakes. In this particular circumstance, the attempt of clicking her tongue was completely clouded by the reality of her body’s limited capability to function with precision. Missing the roof of her mouth entirely, no sound of disapproval managed to be made, causing her to forcefully lick her lips instead. “If you fall and break something I won’t be comin’ to the Funspital with you, ‘kay?” recognizing the improper mish mash of a name she had used to refer to the two locations she had in mind, she sternly frowned with discontent, “Hospural? Fuh-uneral? Funer— ack, whatever ’tis, I’m busy that day anyway…” Raising one hand, she pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers where her facial muscles ached dully from being forced to frown. As soon as the rhyme was picked back up, her hand soon dropped onto the narrow patch of grass between them, staring with unconcealed wonder at the wordsmith. Nothing sent Zosia into a state of overpowered eagerness such as lending an ear to the poet’s words did. That melodic voice could’ve convinced the brunette’s listening skills to alert no matter what her mental state happened to be. Fluid in language as well as action, Zosia’s means of annunciation slipped into other linguistic habits. Whilst sober, she tended only to uncontrollably do so when experiencing a heightened emotion or in trying to keep something a secret. However, once she reached any state that surpassed tipsy, all bets were off, and words of all origins and meanings were at risk of spiralling into the universe. “Tu es adorable,” nodding as if physically confirming and agreeing along with the compliment would make it so, Zosia’s earthbound hand boldy lifted, as if on it’s own volition, to touch the closest tendril of her company’s hair, “comme un chiot…” Undiscerning between what languages belonged to which family, a mumbled line of Italian managed to sneak into the party, “Tanto bene e male per me…” [ Let me count the ways… ] The glimmer of a poem ghosted the outskirts of Zosia’s mind like a crystal at the bottom of a tide pool; close, but out of reach, and taking far too much effort to retrieve when she desired nothing more but to be present during this rare moment of opportunity. Grateful for the liquid searing through her veins that played a part in arranging their rendezvous, it felt equal parts alarming and thrilling to behold Annika from a position of such nearby proximity, all on her own. Utterly delighted by every rhyme, facial features reignited with an involuntary smile, the reader’s index finger tentatively wrapped one of the other’s curls around itself before letting her hand flop back down on the contrived patch of grass. Silliness and cleverness seemed very interchangeable to a drunken mind, consequently leading Zosia on a journey of uncharacteristic struggle to untie one term from its neighbour in order to find the grammatical pair she intended to find steady ground on when she spoke. As indistinguishable as every planet in the galaxies above, her gold plated vocabulary had fallen out of her trophy case of a brain and melted into mush, blurring together into a gradient of luminosity that was neither useful or useless to articulate with. Indeed, she may of had plenty of words in circulation, but the appropriateness of all of them was highly questionable due to the fuzzy filter that usually kept her most fervid thoughts safely out of her mouth. In spite of being equipped with only two limited conversational styles — channeling her sober-self by deliberately concentrating on selecting words that took an immense amount of energy to form or throwing caution to the wind and unloading a chaotic disarray of tangents — Zosia’s manner of expressing herself was far from black and white. “Er du klar til vedtagelse? Kan jeg tage dig hjem?” It was a Danish. Brown eyes widening slightly, even the multilinguist was struck with surprise by the slip in her speech. It had been many months since she’d used the dialect; if her tongue had reached a point where rogue languages were being shared, what else would be unintentionally brought to the surface? Had there been a narrator accounting for everything Zosia did, the disembodied voice would surely be remarking now how dismal the fears of clumsily toppling off the roof seemed now in comparison to her truest, fiercest threat; her own heart’s audacious desire to express loving litany about her company. Head shaking with passionate disagreement until she felt it lightheadedly protest, she settled for wagging her finger back and forth just beneath Annika’s chin. “Do not,” she was attempting to sound stern (and failing), “walk to Timbuktu for me. Ever. Your feet won’t be able to stand it.” brusquely laughing at her coincidental joke, she soon waved a hand to dismiss the comment entirely. “But — but more to the point!” Extravagantly clearing her throat for emphasis, she belatedly reciprocated Annika’s nudge to the side as she peered coyly up at from beneath long brown lashes, a faint smirk playing over her lips. “How do I look? ‘Cause… y’know, obviously, I’ve been a lady in waitin’ for two years.” Stars danced behind the object of her affection’s head, who had been the creator of the text Zosia was remarkably able to recall well enough to reference to. Slurring a little, her voice waned and waxed in different volumes, as if she were sailing up and down a seesaw, “Izzit obvious? Please be honest, thank you.”

[phooll123]

How Hair, Makeup Team Age Mandy Moore for ‘This Is Us’ – Variety

“America has been tortured enough already.” But alas, not Mandy Moore. It’s the last day of filming on Season 2 of “This Is Us,” and for the sixth time on the finale’s eight-day shooting schedule, Moore begins her day in the hair-and-makeup trailer, girded for the three-hour process that will turn the 33-year-old actress into the 68-year-old Rebecca. Moore estimates she’s gone through the transformation more than 30 times — 20 this season alone. Not that she’s complaining about it. “I love that I’m given this opportunity to play this character from 25 to 68,” she says. “That’s so unheard of. So I don’t begrudge the process that comes along with it.” The finale chronicles the wedding day of Rebecca’s daughter, Kate (Chrissy Metz), and Toby (Chris Sullivan), which means the present-day action calls for Moore’s near-daily transformation. Given the death of her husband, Jack (Milo Ventimiglia), Moore’s Rebecca is the only character who exists in all of the show’s multiple timelines: from the 1980s when she and Jack first meet, through the ’90s when they’re juggling tweens (her favorite age, she admits) and then teenagers, to the present, where she’s remarried and trying to resolve long-simmering issues with her three adult children.

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“It’s such an honor to be the glue of this family,” she says. “I feel a tremendous amount of responsibility.” Playing older Rebecca she says is the most challenging age, not just because of the labor-intensive process but also because of the deep-seated emotion it inevitably carries. “If I’m in age makeup, something dramatic has happened,” she says. “I’m being confronted by my son about the fact that I’ve been lying to him, meeting his biological father and pretending I don’t know him, talking about the anniversary of my husband’s death.” Even amid all of the show’s mysteries, the transformation is “one of the most asked-about questions,” she says. The hair-and-makeup trailer is well lived in, fitted with six chairs for the actors and crammed with mementos of an intense season. Taped on the walls are photos of the cast in a range of stages (tracking Jack’s famously fluctuating facial hair), as well as a chart listing their relative ages through the show’s complicated timeline. Jack’s stops abruptly in 1992. There’s a jubilant feeling of senioritis in the air — everyone’s talking about the wrap party, set for the following night. The set is also abuzz about paparazzi photos that were leaked the day before, and crew members debate camera angles to try to identify the culprit. Throughout the morning, other stars filter in and out of the trailer — Metz, Justin Hartley (Kevin), Caitlin Thompson (Madison). Ventimiglia is on set, too, even though he’s not filming, to lend his support: “Someone made some money,” he says regretfully of the spoiler-laden photos. They’re accustomed to Moore’s lengthy stay in the trailer, but they know all too well their time might also be coming. We’ve gotten a glimpse of future Randall, which means Sterling K. Brown spent about four hours being transformed. He’s on deck for another session later in the day. And those leaked photos revealed that another of the show’s stars had his turn too. “It gives me a kernel of satisfaction that other people now know what it’s like,” says Moore with a sly smile. Moore arrives in the trailer promptly at her call time of 8 a.m, her long brown hair still wet from a shower, clad in a robe, jeans and Uggs and carrying boxes of croissants from a favorite bakery. (None for her, though — she’s gluten-free.) On cue, hairstylist Katherine Rees first offers her conditioner, then Advil. It’s not that she’s hungover; she’s preparing for the headache that inevitably comes as her hair gets pinned up ever so tightly. Moore gratefully accepts the pills as hair department head Michael Reitz wraps her hair around her head to fit under the wig cap, the first and easiest step in what will ultimately be a nearly three-hour-long odyssey. Fifteen minutes later, she moves to the makeup chair for a far longer haul, and turns on the timer on her phone, ever hopeful that this time things just might be quicker. Crafting the right look for older Rebecca was an ordeal of its own, with several tests that went too far — inflated lips, a floppy neck waddle, long gray hair. “We went to 12 and had to bring it back down to 6,” says makeup department head Zoe Hay, who’s worked on shows like “The People v. O.J. Simpson: American Crime Story.” “We came at it with the least we could do, but had to keep stepping it up to find what really works.” Paramount to the effort was maintaining a sense of continuity about Rebecca’s naturalistic style. Twentysomething Rebecca might be more playful with color (“A young woman would experiment with how she looks,” says Hay), but as she ages, she settles down into more neutral, safer choices. What solved the problem were some leftover prosthetics from makeup artist Stevie Bettles that Hay happened to have in her trailer from a recent commercial shoot. They’re impossibly thin silicone stickers, color-matched to Moore’s skin and placed precisely around her face and neck.

“Her gestures are completely different … in terms of there having been a fair amount of tragedy and sadness in her life. She carries it all. And that was not something I ever discussed with her.” Dan Fogelman

She can still emote through them — an important detail, given all of the crying Rebecca is wont to do — though Moore reveals she doesn’t know when tears are running down her face. “It’s a very weird sensation,” she says. “Sterling told me I was crying last night, but I couldn’t feel it.” The team knew it had finally found the right look when Moore shot a scene with Ron Cephas Jones (William), who’s 61, and it played seamlessly, as if she were truly the same age as he. “This Is Us” showrunner Dan Fogelman says he briefly considered casting two actors for the role (à la “The Crown,” which is replacing Claire Foy with Olivia Colman as the queen ages), but that scene with Jones proved he was right to trust his “gut instinct” of letting Moore pull it off alone. “Her gestures are completely different; her voice changes; her shoulders carry the weight of a life lived hard — not in terms of drugs or alcohol, but in terms of there having been a fair amount of tragedy and sadness in her life,” he says. “She carries it all. And that was not something I ever discussed with her.” Before the prosthetics can be applied, though, Hay — along with makeup artist Elisabeth Chang — begins the process of wrinkling Moore’s normally clear, smooth skin, painting on speckles and age spots and delicately applying an ager onto her skin and hands that will form lines and creases. As one dabs, the other pulls her skin tightly; Moore’s coloring turns red as they poke and prod. (Removing it all at the end of the day will take another 45 minutes to protect her skin: “We call it the devil’s glue,” says Chang.) It’s a well-choreographed dance; Hay and Chang are careful not to bump into each other in the cramped trailer, and Moore doesn’t need to be directed which way to turn her face, when to stick her thumb in her mouth to stretch it out, or when to turn herself nearly upside down in her chair, so they can paint under her neck. “The first time I was like, ‘You want me to do what?’” she says, laughing. They move painstakingly from her eyes to her forehead to her lips, where Hay paints on additional delicate lines, erasing the lips’ natural edge. “Smoke and mirrors,” she says. After an hour, they take a 10-minute break before moving on to the prosthetics — there are 10 in all. (Four for her eyes, two for her laugh lines, two jowls, one neck piece, one for the bridge of her nose.) “It’s like putting on a Band-Aid, but not quite,” says Hay as she peels each one off the board they’re all pinned on. After she carefully puts them in place, she brushes over them to melt them into Moore’s face and neck. The rest of her body is spared — if Moore has her way, we’ll never see older Rebecca’s legs or feet. “I hate wearing panty hose, but I will wear them every single time I have to be older Rebecca,” she says. Nor will we ever see her in a bathing suit. “That would have to be a body double,” she says with a laugh. One thing remains constant: Her nails at every age are always a light pink. “It’s the last thing I want to think about,” she says. They’ve had to navigate a few unforeseen challenges — when Hay broke her hand and three people had to fill in, or when Moore banged into the shower door, and they had to cover up her black eye. Luckily it was the Halloween episode, so Rebecca as Cher sported purple eyeshadow. Each character has a detailed bible with his or her history, and one crew member is tasked with maintaining continuity. Given the show’s tendency to jump back and forth in time and revisit past scenes, each look needs to be carefully tracked. When Hay is ready to put the tiny crow’s-feet prosthetics on Moore’s eyes, she yells out: “Eyes! We’re doing eyes!” That’s a signal for everyone to stop moving — no one steps in or out of the trailer as she applies the stickers. “The miracle is me not sticking myself to Mandy,” says Hay. “That may or may not have happened before.” Matching Moore’s face side to side is the trickiest part, and Moore points out that one eyelid feels heavier than the other. There can be no cheating. “They like to put the camera everywhere,” complains Hay. “The cameras are not our friends.” She inspects her work through a magnifying glass, looking for spots she might have missed. At least today’s shoot is indoors; daylight makes matters worse. “When they shoot outside, it gives me a heart attack,” she moans. And then Hay layers on the usual stage makeup, but she has one more trick up her sleeve: frosted eyeshadow. “It shows every wrinkle,” she explains. “You wouldn’t want it as an older woman, but it helps Mandy.” Finally it’s back to Reitz for the wig. With eight precisely planted pins and more application of glue, he secures the stylish yet age-appropriate bob on her head. Says Moore with a satisfied look in the mirror: “There she is.” Credit that senioritis: They’re done in near-record time, just under three hours, and Moore’s finally ready for her close-up. Director Ken Olin leads the cast through a rehearsal, figuring out their marks. It’s a short scene, but the quick exchange between Rebecca and Kate speaks volumes about the tension in their relationship. “Did I say something wrong?” Rebecca asks her sons after the encounter sends Kate marching out of the cabin. “I feel so bad for her,” Moore says of Rebecca after the scene has wrapped, over lunch in her trailer. (There’s a pizza truck on set, but she opts for a healthier salad of grains and fish.) “She’s so acutely aware that she ruffles Kate’s feathers, so she’s trying to be on her best behavior. I see myself a little bit in my relationship with my own mother. It’s very complicated.” And while audiences have focused on Jack and his death, Moore hopes that they’ll come to find sympathy for the character, too, even if she has made questionable choices. “I have a real soft spot for her,” she admits. “She’s just not the same. The life force is out of her eyes. Is it just Jack? It has to be, but she breaks my heart.”

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Viral Visual Content Checklist

How to create the Viral Visual Content every time?  Wouldn’t it be great if you could create visual content that is guaranteed to go viral every single time? This is every digital marketer’s dream, right? And who says dreams can’t come true?  The truth is that there  are  some things you can do to help make your visual content more viral-worthy.  Though the success of your visual content depends on many variables – such as your   social standing  ,   current events   and   trending topics, the quality of your content,   and, well, sometimes   good old-fashioned luck   – scientists have begun studying what makes some content so popular and other content slip under the radar.    Ellen DeGeneres  ‘s Oscar selfie, the most retweeted entertainment tweet of 2014, fits perfectly well in this scenario.   If only Bradley’s arm was longer. Best photo ever.   #oscars   pic.twitter.com/C9U5NOtGap    — Ellen DeGeneres (@TheEllenShow)   March 3, 2014       And what they’ve found makes for incredibly interesting reading, since some of the patterns and trends they’ve picked up on are easily replicable.  But we’re not saying we can make your social media campaigns a brilliant success with just a couple of tips and golden nuggets; running a good campaign is an art, (supported by science), and a good campaign manager will always modify and tailor their campaign in response to unpredicted events and changes of circumstance.      With this in mind, and in order to help you give your visual content the best opportunity of making social media waves, we’ve listed some of the science behind the successful visual content.   1. Colors and Shareability     Saeideh Bakhshi   is a research scientist at   Yahoo! Labs’ Human-Computer Interaction group  , and has spent her career studying why some images capture people’s attention on social media and others don’t.  Using an array of social media data and image-analysis tools, Bakhshi looked at the link between an image’s dominant colors and how many times it gets shared.  The   study  , published last year, whilst Bakhshi was still a Ph.D. student at Georgia Tech, analysed one million images on Pinterest.  This analysis involved determining an image’s main color using pixel analysis and then corroborating these results with human-based evaluation experiments on   Mechanical Turk  .  What Bakhshi found was that images composed predominately of the colors red, purple, and pink were the most likely to be repinned or shared. While blue, black, and yellow were less likely to make an impact.          The color palatte       However, before you rush off and make all of your images red, purple, and pink, there’s an important caveat: Bakhshi’s results are, in her words, “platform-dependent”.  In other words, though her findings are certainly very interesting, it’s hard to use them to make sweeping generalizations. The majority of Pinterest users are female, and most of the images shared concern cookery, crafts, and home décor, meaning that the platform’s demographics and most popular topics and boards may (and probably did) influence her results.  On Instagram, for example, photos which feature faces are often more popular than those which don’t. Whereas, on Flickr, nature shots are very popular.  The thing to take away, then, is that, if you’re running a campaign on Pinterest, or targeting females interested in arts-and-crafts, cookery, or interior design, it may be a good idea to opt for a red, purple, and pink palette. If not, it would be a good idea to read up about the   psychology of color  , since color seems to be very important when it comes to an image’s shareability.   2. Emotional Engagement    Buffer recently   surveyed   more than 800 people in order to find out how they felt about 23 viral images and a group of non-viral images from   Imgur  .  They found that all of the viral content had three elements in common, irrespective of the age and gender of the individual viewing them.  The first of these was a  positive feeling . Images which expressed a number of positive feelings (including joy, interest, anticipation, and trust) were found to have a higher number of views. So don’t make your images too downbeat.       This little guy would make most people chuckle    Secondly,  emotional complexity  seemed to play a vital role in an image’s popularity. Images that had gone viral were found to evoke a diverse array of both positive and negative emotions than non-viral images. The upshot is that, if you’re looking to make an image go viral, you want to try to make it emotionally ambiguous, albeit with a positive slant.       Does this can make you feel happy, sad, or both?    And finally, a key differentiator between viral and non-viral images was an  element of surprise . Images which catch those who view them off guard, or which have some sort of visual twist are also associated with high sharing levels.       “The Dress” sparked outrage and debate when no one could agree on what colour it actually is: white and gold, or blue and black?       Granted, creating images that tick all of these boxes is hard. But nobody said this was going to be easy.   3. Filter for Instagram Success    Research suggests that images uploaded to Instagram which have had filters applied are   21 percent more likely to be viewed   than those which don’t. Moreover, filtered images are   45 percent more likely to receive comments than their unfiltered counterparts  .  But, beware: not all filters are created equal. Filters which make the images they’re applied to appear “warmer” (such as Mayfair) get the best results, while “colder” filters have less of an impact.             And saturation effects, too, can negatively impact views; while age effects were found to generate fewer comments.  But this doesn’t mean you should  always  apply warm filters and avoid saturation effects. Alas, things are never that simple.  Your filter must complement your photo, and bring out its best features. Play around with different filters and, if it looks good to you, go with it – it’ll probably look good to everyone else. There’s some great advice on how to choose which filters to apply   here  .  The best thing to do is monitor your own posts and see what’s working well for you. Test, measure, analyse, tweak, adapt, repeat.   4. Target Top-Sharing Demographics   The New York Times conducted an in-depth research study to probe what types of people are likely to share content online.  Their report, “  The Psychology of Sharing  ”, combined qualitative and quantitative data extracted from 2,500 mediums to heavy social sharers in order to identify which types of people share content online.  They identified six distinct personalities likely to share content:    The Altruist  shares content via Facebook and the email that she/he thinks others will find helpful, enlightening, or which she/he perceives as raising awareness for a worthy cause.   The Careerist  shares content related to their vocation and often does so via LinkedIn.   The Hipster  shares content via Twitter and Facebook though avoids email sharing; the content she/he shares is often of a creative nature and reflective of their identity.   The Boomerang  enjoys provoking a reaction, and share using all channels in order to get validation from others.   The Connector  is relaxed and thoughtful, and shares content through Facebook and email in order to stay in touch with contacts.   The Selective  uses email to share informative content in a personalised fashion.   So, when it comes to choosing the images you’re going to share, it’s worth keeping these personalities in mind. Try to make your images appeal to one or more of these groups, and make them easily sharable via their preferred platform(s). And try to identify which type of sharers are likely to be common in your online following and tailor your visual content toward them.   MavSocial is the premier social media visual content management & publishing platform for brands and agencies. Try our FREE Small Business Edition for your business   here  .

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