#might put a poll on the finished one if anyone also wants one

[incomingalbatross]

So I put this poll out there a few weeks ago, and I sort of processed the tags and comments as they came in, but I hadn't revisit it after the deadline passed. (Thank you everyone who contributed, either by vote or commentary!)

What I've come away with here is that... there are no magic answers, and a fair number of people are wrestling with the same worries as me. Sad but also reassuring to know I'm not the only one in this boat. :P The three leading answers are "using or planning to use a pen name," "don't expect to be famous enough for it to matter," and, "I DON'T talk about my original writing here."

And now I'm gonna muse out loud about my own perspective. The third of the above options is my current answer, and unfortunately the other two don't really fit my needs, because

a pen name that could be linked to this blog is arguably MORE revealing of private info than one that links to my real life - knowing my real name wouldn't give you access to my dumb fandom opinions and life complaints over the past 6-7 years

there is, for better or for worse, a little Catherine de Burgh voice in my head insisting that if I ever DO write a novel I shall be proficient. I admit it's hubristic but I want to plan for success here xP

And the dilemma that I'm running into, when I think about this, basically is:

On the one hand, if I got seriously into original writing and posted it on here, and then it became successful, there could be an easy bridge for anyone to make between Public-Facing Professional Author Me and Anonymous Private Fandom Me AND whatever I've dropped about IRL Me in the safety of anonymity. This is the kind of thing the internet has made me paranoid about, not for any specific reason, but because I believe separation of spheres is a good thing and there should be some barriers between different parts of my llife.

On the other hand, I would love to talk about my abandoned, languishing writing ideas on here, because I've learned how good a mutual circle is for my fanfiction writing motivation, and while I do technically have an irl writing group right now it's... not the same as Tumblr would be. And if the options are "never finish anything because I'm avoiding community support" or "deal with the potential consequences of potential success after having written something..." Well. The pros of the writeblr approach are clear.

Honestly, the answer might be a sideblog! There might be a way to just... not separate my IDs on here entirely, but an extra step or two of obscurity so it would be harder for someone to make the connection from the outside. I've seen how that can work for other people, and it might be the best answer for me... I'd have to think through the logistics and the ins and outs first.

question I've been mulling over for a while, because the #1 reason I don't talk about original writing ideas on here is that I wouldn't want a future professional/public identity (real name or otherwise) to be connected to my personal/for-fun Tumblr identity

(I would love to hear elaboration on any of these in the tags)

[wordsbyrian]

Divine - Kelley O'Hara x Reader

Summary: Request was along the lines of Kelley x Reader where R is like divinely attractive. like the sun always hits her perfectly and everybody is in love with her. maybe she catches her teammates watching edits of her?

A/N: it was a request and then it was on the poll from ages ago and then i told @wosobullshit that i would write it so yeah. ta-da!

No one on the team is really sure how you do it.

It seemed like no matter what was going on around you, you managed to look perfect at all times, at least in your girlfriend’s opinion.

Doesn’t matter if you just finished running the beep test, or played a full 90 in a torrential downpour, or had just rolled out of bed for one reason or another. You always looked like you just stepped out of the pages of a sports magazine, even when you were forced to wear the hideous Portland jerseys.

The thing is, your girlfriend, Kelley, can’t even explain it but she’s more than willing to stand and stare and enjoy the view.

Currently, she and the rest of the team are watching as you help some of the trainers set up the cones for a drill and for some reason it seems as though no matter how you turned, you seemed to catch the light perfectly.

“Christ,” Sonny says, whistling lowly, “the fans might be right about Y/N.”

Kelley’s quick to reach out and swat at her young friend, “Hands off Sonnett.”

“I’m just looking.”

“No looking either!”

Unfortunately for Kelley (and the rest of the team) her voice travels just enough to be heard by the coaching staff, who are quick to rush them onto the field to get practice started.

Throughout practice, you do feel more eyes on you then normal but you brush it off as the training staff wanting to keep an extra close eye on you since you were still bouncing back from an injury. Of course, you noticed Kelley staring but that isn’t really anything new as you catch her staring at all hours of the day.

There’s also the cameras that feel like they're constantly on you. Which is weird to you but you push through and get on with the drills.

That afternoon when everyone has been loaded back onto the bus and you’re on your way back to the hotel, you notice the eyes on you again and you’re also pretty sure you hear someone whispering about the vein popping out on your forehead but you’re too busy arguing with Crystal to care.

“No, Y/N/N, there’s no way that you’re trying to tell me that ‘Hit Em Up’ is a better diss track than ‘No Vaseline,’” Crystal says, “‘No Vaseline’ is the diss track.”

A very important topic of conversation.

You shake your head fiercely before speaking, “Pac started the song by saying and I quote ‘that’s why i fucked your bitch you fat motherfucker’ then ended it by making fun of Prodigy for having Sickle Cell. Cube didn’t say anything that brutal.”

“Cube also didn’t need 3 of his friends to back him up in his beef,” Crys shoots back.

“He was beefing with the dudes that helped make him famous! HE DIDN'T HAVE ANY FRIENDS LEFT TO BACK HIM UP!”

The two of you have been having this argument on and off for weeks. Always over the same two songs and there is no doubt in your mind that your teammates are sick of hearing it. Especially the ones that have to put with you in POrtland and with the national team.

“Helped make him famous?!”

“Yes!”

“Seriously?!”

“Yes!”

The two of you are both leaning across the aisle, glaring at each other at this point, faces so close together that anyone else would’ve found it uncomfortable but the two of you had grown up together and as such were unfazed by it.

Out of the corner of your eye, before you or Crystal could continue, you noticed Kelley and Sonnett sitting in the back row glancing at a phone, then back at you, then back to the phone before giggling.

“I’ll get back to you in a second, Dunny, this isn’t over,” you say before getting up and heading towards your girlfriend.

It's not that hard for her to spot you coming, being in a confined space and all. The whole tall and tattooed thing you have going isn’t really beneficial to sneaking up on people either. BUt your height is currently working in your favor because it means you can easily see the way both Kelley and Emily scramble to hide the phone (and its screen) from your view.

“Hi, baby,” Kelley says when you reach them and drop into the seat across from them.

“Yeah, ‘hi baby’” Sonny mimics, earning an elbow to the gut from her fellow Georgian.

“That’s not suspicious at all,” you mumble under your breath. “Anyway, I was wondering if the two of you troublemakers made any plans for tomorrow or if I’ll actually be able to hang out with my girlfriend at some point this camp.”

“You can have her, Y/N/N, I’ve been trying to get rid of her days,” Emily jokes.

Laughing at the offended look on Kelley’s face, you press a kiss to the side of her head before heading back to argue with Crystal.

The next day, you and Kelley are basically attached at the hip, or more accurately, the hand with the way she’s been dragging you from place to place the entire time.

And now after much convincing (read: whining) from you, you’ve finally got her to agree that a nap is a good use of your afternoon.

There’s only one issue…

“Babe, the key to a successful nap is having your eyes closed.”

“My eyes are closed.”

“They aren’t,” you say.

“How do you know my eyes aren’t closed? You’d have to have your eyes open to tell.”

“I can tell,” you say, still not opening your eyes, “because I can always tell when you’re looking at me. Even in the world’s most crowded room, the feeling of your eyes on me is unlike any other. So close them so I can sleep.”

A soft kiss is placed on the underside of your chin and there’s a bit of shuffling as Kelley tries to get comfortable. You let her squirm for about 30 seconds before you tug her firmly against you.

“Yea that’s enough of that,” you say. “And for love of God, stop staring at me.”

“You say the sweetest things to me when you’re tired.”

“Mhmm, love you too. It’s time to go night-night now.”

“That’s the tone you use with Charlie,” Kelley’s voice is indignant.

“Shhh, it’s time to go night-night.”

There’s some grumbling from the older woman but you ignore her in favor of going to sleep.

When you wake up from your nap, Kelley is nowhere to be found which isn’t very surprising. Luckily you know exactly where to find her or so you thought.

The walk to Sonny and lIndsey’s room is a quick one but you get turned away at the door by LIndsey who tells you that neither Frat Daddy is inside. She tells you that they said something about the social media team but you instantly decide you want nothing to do with that.

So instead you head off to find your best friend.

Marcel.

But to find him you need to find his mother, an easy task especially when all you have to do is follow the music. Which leads you down the hallway to the room where the PTs are set up.

Walking in, you’re not surprised to see Crystal on one of the tables getting a massage, while Lynn plays with Marcel on the ground. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Uncle sitting on the other table getting her hands looked at, but you don’t pay any attention to that. Instead you walk in and pick your little homie up.

“Hey,” Lynn calls out.

“Sorry Lynnie,” you say, “Marcel and I have some very important business to discuss.”

“He’s one!”

“Gracie’s corner is incredibly serious stuff, Williams. Crys, I’ll come find you when he needs a diaper change.”

You hear small chuckles from Lyss and the trainers but you’re mostly focused on the way Crystal grumbles her breath while shoo-ing you out of the room.

As you leave you can just mak e out the voice of one of the trainers saying, "It's like she doesn't even know she's doing it."

Whatever that means.

You spend the next 30 or so minutes wandering around the hotel, alternating between letting the toddler run ahead of you and carrying him while he mushes his fingers against your face, babbling on about whatever 1 year olds like. You make sure to respond when he pauses, wow-ing or asking him simple questions to encourage him to continue.

Eventually, the two of you make your way down to the conference room that’s been converted to a common area for the team.

The amount of heads that immediately turn to face you makes you slightly nervous and the nerves only worsen when you see Kelley and Sonnett once again shoving their phones behind their backs.

Rolling your eyes, you go and ploop yourself and Marcel down next to Charlie, finding the company of the two toddlers more entertaining than that of your teammates. 

Unnoticed by you though, both of the kids' mothers as well as a member of the social media team taking photos of the three of you. There’s also a few unheard comments directed at Kelley that may or may not have something to do with baby fever.

Life at camp continues in the same manner for the next few days with you going about your business while your girlfriend, her goofball friend, and the social media team continue to act strangely.

It all comes to a head one day after training.

The media manages to corner you before you get on the bus and they ask you to react to a few tiktoks that fans have made about you.

It takes you all of 3 seconds before you realize what you’re watching.

“Are all of these thirst edits of me,” you gasp, not removing your gaze from the screen. “This one is captioned: I’d let Y/N Y/L/N tie me. NEVERMIND!”

You manage to get through the next 5 minutes.

You stutter and blush and sweat your way through all 5 but you manage to make it through.

Not all the videos are as sexual as the first one, some feature clips of you with Marcel and Charlie but it still makes you very very uncomfy.

When you get on the bus, you’re greeted by the sight of most of the team grinning at you like maniacs, clearly already knowing what just happened.

“Who’s idea was that,” you ask, still standing up front.

No one speaks, so you groan before beginning to trudge your way to your normal seat across from Crystal.

On your way you notice the way both Kelley and Sonny can’t seem to hold back their giggles, so you pass your normal seat and go and sit with them instead.

“The two of you aren’t nearly as funny as you seem to think you are,” you say, dropping into Kelley’s lap.

“But we really are,” Sonnet laughs while poking you in the back.

“Yea it’s not our fault that the entire internet thinks you’re divine. I’m not going to be the one who argues with them.” Kelley leans up to press a kiss to your cheek but pouts when you lean away then stand up. “I love you,” she tries.

“Love you too.”

[crypticreid]

KINKTOBER DAY FOUR

October 13 -- Virginity

masterlist

author's note: happy friday the 13th!! this is a behemoth, but it feels right to celebrate this day with a little bit of fireworks lol!! thank you to everyone who voted in the poll, I might do more of those throughout the month. thank you for reading and let me know if you want to be tagged! (also, because this took me so long, it isn't as tightly edited as my other work)

summary: To be completely honest, you're struggling a little bit with you new job at the BAU. Spencer is there to help. Oh, and maybe he can help you with a few other things too.

warnings: female reader, losing virginity, fingering, oral (female receiving), grinding, discussion about masturbation and mention of sex toys

word count: 6.9k (sorry? lol)

this is adut content. 18+ plus only. minors do not interact!

Morgan smiles up at you from his desk as you scramble into the bullpen. Garcia is leaning against his desk as she raises her eyebrows. You toss your go bag under your own desk and push your hair out of your face, trying to ignore the pair. 

“Rough night?” Morgan giggles, as he pushes the pencil he’s holding through his circled fingers suggestively. Garcia guffaws, but at least has the decency to playfully hit Morgan on the shoulder. 

“Can you two behave for like five minutes?” You groan and try to find your ID badge. You literally just had it to get into the BAU department, but now it has mysteriously disappeared. It isn’t on your desk or in any of your pockets, but you do find a couple crumpled up dollar bills that you toss onto your desk without thinking. 

The appearance of the bills causes Morgan to whistle. Emily walks over and sees the offending currency. “Damn, invite me next time!” She laughs. 

You roll your eyes and don’t reply. Instead, you pull up your go bag and start to empty it. Maybe you accidentally put your badge in one of the pockets, you rationalize.

“What is going on?” JJ asks with a small laugh, gesturing to the contents of your go bag now completely strewn across the desk. Clothing and toiletries clutter the surface and you know you look like a crazy person. And maybe you are crazy. No, you definitely are crazy. Anyone who does this job is absolutely batshit crazy. 

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away. You are absolutely not going to have a mental breakdown at eight in the morning in the bullpen, and definitely not in front of fucking Derek Morgan. “I can’t find my badge.” You mutter and drop down to your knees to look under your chair and desk. 

You palm the dirty floor, but don’t find anything. Your friends stifle their laughter. “I would help you but this is not a crawl around on the floor kind of dress.” Penelope offers. 

“Gee, thanks.” You say to yourself. 

“Hey, has anyone seen –” Spencer stops in both his tracks and his sentence when he notices you on the floor. He swallows. “I found your ID badge. Over by the door. I think you dropped it.” 

“Wonder boy saves the day!” Morgan exclaims. 

Spencer finishes his trek over to you and offers a hand to help you up. You glance up at him, blushing slightly at the angle. Who would’ve thought you’d be on your knees in front of Dr. Reid? Okay, you’ve definitely thought about it, but your imagination didn’t normally make it happen inside Quantico and it absolutely never in front of your coworkers. 

“Sorry, my hands are kind of dirty. Uh, from the floor.” You confess and take his hand as you stand up. His hand is warm and soft, like really soft. Like you could easily fall asleep to him rubbing your back in mindless patterns. As soon as you’re on your feet you slip your hand out of his to avoid your mind adding more ammunition to your middle of the night imaginations about Spencer. 

“It’s okay.” 

“Thanks. For the badge… and –” you take the badge from his other hand and gesture meaninglessly between the two of you. 

“You’re welcome.” He smiles at you and you feel yourself redden deeper. 

“Alright, alright! Time for kiss and tell!” Penelope exclaims and you blink away from your eye contact with Reid. 

“What?” You whip your head around to her. 

Emily makes kissing noises and musses her hair. “You. And some mystery person. Last night. Clearly.” 

You turn toward her. “No. I wasn’t…” you start, your eyes flick over to Spencer as he walks toward his desk. “There’s no one.” 

JJ leans on your desk and raises her brows. “Then what were you doing last night?” 

You could not tell them the truth, but it was also impossible to lie to the best profilers in the country, so you give them a half truth. “Nothing. I just had a bad night.” You shrug and start to put your clothing back in your go bag, not bothering to fold it. 

The truth is that it had been a bad night because you were struggling with the job. You’d been hired ten months ago and the lack of sleep, the neverending cases, and having to constantly deal with the horrific things humans can do to one another was taking its toll on you. Yesterday had been a day off and you wanted to use it to catch up on sleep, but everytime you closed your eyes, the faces of the people you couldn’t save filtered in. You hadn’t been able to get a good night’s sleep since you started and it had caused a complete breakdown last night. You had pulled up Hotch’s contact information four times ready to quit, but you knew you couldn’t do it. You were here for a reason, you’d stick it out.  

Penelope hums. “Well, if it wasn’t a person… then it must’ve been alcohol.” 

“Or gambling.” Emily adds. 

You roll your eyes. “I don’t gamble.” 

“You should. It’s a lot of fun. I’ll play you in Blackjack.” Emily smiles. 

“Don’t play with her, she counts cards.” Reid murmurs absentmindedly as he reads over a file at his desk. 

“I do not!” 

Everyone laughs, but then the laughter dies away when Hotch comes out of his office. “Looks like no one gets to have fun for a couple of days.” Emily groans. 

On the flight home after the case, you’re seated across from Spencer. Everyone else is asleep or has headphones in, even Hotch is passed out on the couch, which is rare. You still can’t sleep, so you stare out the window into the darkness as you fly over Virgina. Spencer clears his throat and you roll your head to look at him. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. 

You allow a small smile to form on your lips. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

He swallows and puts the book in his hand down in his lap as he leans forward slightly. “I know we don’t know each other that well yet, but you don’t really seem like yourself lately. Are you sure you’re okay?” 

The sore achy feeling of wanting to cry but holding it in burns your throat. You cough softly.  “I’m okay, really. Just – having trouble sleeping.” You give just a little bit of information, hoping it assuages his curiosity. 

“Is it that mystery person keeping you up at night?” He asks point-blankly. 

Your mouth is agape and you snap it shut, “did you just make a joke?” 

“I tried to.” He smiles and you match his smile with your own. 

“There really isn’t anyone.” You shake your head. “I’ve never –” you almost let the rest of the sentence slip out, but stop yourself just in time. The lack of sleep is obviously affecting you more than you thought. 

“You’ve never what?” The way he moves his body forward in his seat makes your heart thrum in your chest. His body language is clear, even a rookie behavioral analyst could tell, he was prepared to listen to what you have to say. Not only that, but he actually cared. 

You bite the inside of your cheek before letting out a sigh. Before you answer, you lean closer toward him, “I’ve never had sex, actually.” 

His eyes widen and he clears his throat, “you’re a –” 

“Virgin,” you finish for him. “I’m not ashamed or embarrassed by it. And it isn’t like I’m saving it or anything. It just hasn’t happened yet.” You shrug. “In all honesty, part of me just wants to pick some random person and get it over with.” You let out a small breathy laugh in an attempt to make you feel less awkward. 

“Why haven’t you?” You meet his eyes. “I mean, just found a random person to get it over with?” 

One of your shoulders lifts in a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know. Like when I think about it, I realize that I’d rather have someone I trust, you know. Someone who would take care of me and not just see me as another notch on their bedpost. At least for the first time. And then after that, I’d feel more comfortable just going out and… you know.” 

“Notching up some bed posts.” He nods knowingly and you giggle. He smiles, you notice that he enjoys making you laugh. A lot of the time it seems like people are maybe laughing at him or about him, but not you. He’s never the butt of the joke for you. 

“Sure, Spencer.” You can’t help, but trail your eyes over him and contemplate the question that’s on the tip of your tongue. “How did you lose your virginity?” 

He doesn’t seem offended or shocked by your question. “In college.” 

You scoff, “weren’t you like twelve?” 

“During my undergrad, yes. But I have multiple PhDs.” 

“Of course, Doctor Reid.” 

He shifts in his seat. “I was twenty. She was, uh, we worked in the same lab. And had the same research advisor.” 

“So you two experimented on each other.” You joked. 

Spencer’s face flushed and you felt a pang deep in your stomach. “In a way, yes.” 

“I’m joking, Spencer.” He nods in understanding. “Were you like her boyfriend?” 

“No, we just –” 

“Hooked up.” You finish for him. 

“For a couple months, yeah.” 

Your mouth drops and you whisper, “you had a fuck buddy?” 

His blush deepens. “I don’t think we ever called each other that.” 

“What did you call her?” 

“I don’t know. We never talked about it. I finished my doctoral thesis before her.” He shrugs. 

“Wow, who knew.” 

“What?” 

“Morgan isn’t the only playa on the team.” You giggle and scrunch your nose, feeling the stress of the last few weeks dissipate from your shoulders. 

“I’m not…” he laughs and shakes his head. He glances out the window. “We’re landing soon.” He swallows and leans back in his seat. It was terrible, but you had a strong urge to step across to his seat and straddle his lap and kiss him until you were both breathless. You turn your gaze back to the window and try to force the image away. 

Your car wouldn’t start. You forcefully turned the key in the ignition again, and it sputtered and died. As you hit your steering wheel, you let out a frustrated noise and hit it again. You turn to grab your cell phone from your bag to call a tow truck and jump when you hear a knock on your driver’s side window. Spencer stands there apologetically, waving his hand with his closed mouth smile. 

He steps aside when you open the car door and get out. “Is everything okay?” 

“No.” You laugh bitterly. “My car won’t start and I need to get a tow.” You bite your lip, but can’t stop the tears that bubble over. 

Spencer freezes, but then reaches out and touches your shoulder lightly. “It’s okay.” For some reason his comfort makes you cry harder. “Oh, uh, here,” he mutters and pulls you into a full hug. He squeezes you tight against him and rubs your back as you cry into his chest. 

“I’m sorry, Spencer.” You blubber into his shirt. 

“No, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” 

“Is it?” You pull away from his chest to look in his eyes. “I’m failing at this job and –” 

“Woah, failing at this job?” He interrupts. “Who said that?” His brows furrow angrily. 

“No one.” You blink away the tears stuck in your eyelashes and Spencer reaches up and swipes away one that trails down your cheek. 

“You’re not failing. You’re excelling. You’re incredible. Truly, I mean that. I wouldn’t lie to you. I promise.” He swallows and you realize how close to his face you are, his hands wrapped around your back. 

You don’t stop yourself, even though you know you should, as you lean into him. His eyes flutter down to your lips, but he doesn’t pull away, so you keep going. Your lips touch his lightly, barely there before you back away. 

His hands tighten on you and pull you closer to him. He chases your lips with his and kisses you back, your own hands are on his chest and they twist into his shirt. You kiss him fervently, his hands traveling to your lower back, arching you into him. A moan escapes from the back of your throat and it breaks the spell. Spencer pulls away from the kiss. 

His lips are pink and shimmery and you want to kiss him again. Desperately. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs, his tongue slipping out and swiping across his bottom lip. 

“What for?” You blink. 

“Kissing you.” 

“I kissed you.” 

“I kissed you back.” 

“And you should do it again.” 

His eyes dart to your lips. He wants to, you can tell, but he stops himself. “We shouldn’t.” 

“Not here, at least.” You glance behind him and pray that the parking garage is completely empty. If your coworkers acted the way they did this morning about a nonexistent mystery person, you can only imagine their reactions if they saw you making out with Spencer. 

“It’s inappropriate.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“There’s paperwork.” 

“Not if we don’t tell anyone.” 

“That’s not how that works.” He laughs, you can feel the vibrations of the sound against his chest. 

“Do you always play by the rules, Dr. Reid?” 

He swallows harshly, you watch the movement of his Adam’s apple bob against the tight skin of his neck. “I’ll drive you home.” He deflects. 

You reach up on your toes and kiss him again. His hands spread on your back and press you against him and your hands pull him tighter to you, wrinkling his shirt. You hear footsteps and both of you step away from each other instantly, putting distance between your bodies. You turn your head to see a person you don’t recognize come into view from the other side of the parking garage. They don’t even glance in your direction. The hammering in your chest slows and you turn back to Spencer. He runs a hand through his hair. 

“Grab your bag.” He says with an authority that makes you spring into action quickly. Neither of you say anything as you follow him down the rows of agents’ cars to his car. He opens the passenger side for you, the vintage car creaks in protest. He closes the door and you watch from the rearview mirror as he walks around the back of the car toward the driver’s side, his hands in his pocket. 

He slides into the car seat and starts the car, it rumbles to life loudly. “I normally don’t even drive to work, just take public transportation. But I had an errand the other day.” He explains absentmindedly as he checks the rearview mirror and slowly backs out of the park spot. 

“It’s kismet.” 

“I always thought it was interesting that the English pilfered that word from the Turkish language. Considering words like fate and destiny already existed. Some etymologists attribute it to the rampant orientalism at the time. You know, like kismet was more mysterious or mystical or exciting than just simple fate.” He rambles and drives you out of the parking garage. A heady want begins to grow in your lower stomach. “And of course, the Turkish developed the word from an Arabic word meaning portion or lot. Which is fascinating.” 

“It is.” You say earnestly. 

He glances over at you sheepishly. “Sorry, I don’t mean to ramble.” 

“Don’t apologize. I like it.” 

His eyes are already back on the road, but you can see his cheeks redden in a slight blush. “Where do you live?” He asks and you tell him. It isn’t a long drive, well it isn’t this late at night. Your morning commute is a nightmare. He gives you a brief look, “why did you join the BAU?” 

You exhale a long breath before you answer. “I wanted to help people I guess. Which is so cliche, but it’s the truth. Like it isn’t even about putting bad guys away or whatever. I just want to make the world safer. For everyone.” You look over at him and he meets your gaze for a split second. 

“You are doing a good job.” He states. You shake your head. “I mean it. You are. You’re making a difference. You’re helping people.” 

“But how do you keep your head above water? I mean… how do you not let it beat you down?” 

“We have each other. And you focus on the good.” 

You sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, letting his words sink in. “Thanks, Spencer. For everything today.” 

He pulls into a parking spot in front of your apartment building. “I’ll walk you up.” 

You go to unbuckle your seatbelt, but it doesn’t budge. You try again, but again, nothing. 

“Oh, sometimes it sticks. Here,” he leans across the middle and reaches for your seatbelt buckle. His fingers graze the outside of your thigh and inhale sharply, electricity buzzing from the simplest of touches. He unbuckles you and you let the seat belt slide across your body, he doesn’t move away from you. He’s close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin, it enflames you. 

“Spencer,” you whisper and turn your head toward him. His eyes slowly trail down your face toward your lips and then back up to your eyes. You can’t take it, so you lean forward and kiss him again. Tentative at first, waiting for him to respond. He does, his hands pulling your face closer to his, deepening the kiss. When you feel his tongue swipe across your bottom lip you open for him, let him explore and learn. You sigh into his mouth, your hands find their way to the back of his neck. 

He slips away from you, breathless, but starts to kiss down your jaw. He mutters your name against your skin. You feel the warmth of his kisses travel down your spine toward your core. 

“Come upstairs.” You sigh, when he bites lightly on a sensitive spot on your neck. 

“I can’t. I shouldn’t.” He pants against your skin. 

“I want you.” 

He groans, deep and frustrated, and moves to lean his forehead against yours, both of your heavy breathing intermingling and becoming one. “You shouldn’t want me.” 

“Why not? And don’t say the bullshit about us working together. I don’t care, Spencer. I trust you. I want you.” 

He backs his head away from your forehead so that he can look into your eyes, his thumb against your cheek brushes back and forth. “You trust me?” 

“With everything in me.” He kisses you again, softly, tenderly. 

“I’ll take care of you.” 

“I know.” You kiss him back and then pull away. He nods and you return it with a nod of your own. 

His tongue glides across his lip and he swallows. You blink and he’s moving out of his seat and already at the passenger side door before you can reach for the handle. He opens it quickly and helps you out. It’s old school, but it makes your heart stutter and start. When he takes your hand in his, it feels like two magnets being drawn together. He slams the car door shut and you lead him up to your apartment. 

Once you unlock your front door and guide him in, you shut the door and turn to look at him. You flick on the light. He stares at you and asks, “you’re sure?” 

“Positive.” You step toward him and reach out to slide your hands across his stomach and then land on his waist. “Do I have to kiss you first again, or –” you don’t have to finish your question before his lips are on yours. His kisses are not tentative or searching, they’re needy and impassioned. Before long, you’re clawing at his shirt, untucking it from his pants and then reaching up to undo his tie. 

He stops you as he breathes laboriously. “Wait, we should slow down.” 

You continue to work on his tie, perpetually crooked, but now just an obstacle to what you need desperately.  “I don’t wanna go slow.” 

He moans and you finally get his tie undone and whip it off. “No, we should.” 

Your fingers work deftly against his buttons, one at a time, and you look up at him. “I’m a virgin, but I’m not inexperienced. I’m not a delicate flower.” 

His expression changes, his eyes grow heavy and he quirks his jaw. “Not inexperienced?” 

“I’m not.” You almost sound like a petulant teenager. 

“How far?” 

“What?” 

“How far have you gotten?” Your hands stop almost halfway through the third to last button. You don’t answer. His voice deepens, gravely and sexy, “you’ve clearly kissed before.” You nod. “Have you had someone feel your breasts?” As he asks the question, his hand reaches up and caresses your breast. You lean into the touch. “Has anyone put their mouth on your breasts, marking you as theirs? Rolling your nipple between their teeth?” He inclines his head into the crook of your neck and presses a hot kiss there. “Have you ever had somebody's mouth on your clit?” 

Your breathing is sharp and jagged, but Spencer simply continues. “Would you let someone use their tongue to make you come? Or maybe even their fingers? Pump their fingers into until you're squirming?” 

“Spencer,” you plead. 

He continues to massage your breast as his other hand slips under your shirt and trails across your hips and stomach. “Or do you just mean that you’ve touched yourself? You’ve laid in bed and explored this beautiful body. Know just exactly how to make yourself shiver from your own fingers.” 

You’re almost overwhelmed by his touch, his lips on your skin, and his words, your head is spinning, but you’re also desperate for more. 

“We’re going to take it slow.” He informs you and it isn’t up for discussion. “Not because I think you’re a delicate flower.” He throws your own words back at you. “But because I want to take my time with you. I want to learn everything about your body. I want to touch every single inch of you with my hands. I want to make you come, I want to feel you come. Over and over again.” You’re practically shaking in his hands when his lips and teeth scrap across your jaw and to your lips. He takes them with his and you’re like clay on a potter’s wheel, malleable and completely at his will, waiting to be crafted into his masterpiece. 

“Do you want that?” He breathes on your lips. 

You somehow know instinctively that he wants a verbal confirmation, so you answer, “yes.” 

He continues to kiss you, deeply, almost like a starved man tasting his first bit of sustenance. You answer with your own fervency. His hand at your hip squeezes and pulls you tight against him and you feel his want against you. It makes you moan. You grind your body against him and his grip tights even more. 

“Bedroom. Where’s your bedroom?” He stutters, but doesn’t stop kissing you and you don’t stop either. Your hands are in his hair, pulling and twisting, holding him impossibly close to you. You didn’t know kissing could make you feel this way, simultaneously feverish and desperate, but also insatiable. You felt like you could kiss Spencer for a lifetime and never tire of it. He wasn’t close enough even though your bodies were pressed together, you needed more. The only thought in your brain is simply, more, more, more. 

He pulls away from you, both of you taking heaving breaths. His lips were perfectly pink, your body thrummed with the knowledge that you caused such a change in him. 

“Bedroom.” The single word went straight to your core. You take his hand and guide him to your bedroom. 

Once you turn on the light, he’s behind you, pressing into you. You can feel every part of him, and he kisses the back of your neck. He’s back to being soft and gentle. He brings his hands to your stomach and inches them under your shirt until he has your breasts in his hands. 

Your breasts feel heavy and logically you know why. Blood has rushed to them, just as it has rushed to your other erogenous zones, and it is sending a signal to your brain to release oxytocin. But you’re realizing that logic has no place in your head when Spencer’s hands and mouth are on you. Logic means nothing to you at this moment. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He compliments as he fondles your breasts, your head lolls back against his chest. He angles his head so he can kiss your cheek. “You distracted me that very first case you were on. Did you know that?” 

“No,” your eyes flutter shut when he moves down to kiss your jaw. 

“I thought you were so gorgeous. After the case, I went home to my apartment and touched myself as I imagined you. I felt so ashamed, I couldn’t even look you in the eyes the next morning.” 

Your mind wanders back to all those months ago. “I thought I had done something wrong,” you remember. 

“No, it was me. I was wrong. But I couldn’t stop. I mean you can feel what you do to me.” He was right, you could distinctly feel the effect you had on him. 

“I thought of you too.” You confess. 

“You did?” His voice is low and breathy and you nod. “In that bed.” He ticks his head to gesture toward it. “Tell me.” 

You feel yourself heat with blush. His thumbs brush across your nipples through your bra and your breath gets caught in your throat. You swallow and answer. “I would lie there, normally because I couldn’t sleep. And then I’d think about you. Your hands, I’d think about your hands.” 

“My hands?” He squeezes your breasts. 

You nod and answer simultaneously, “yes. I’d imagine them on my body, touching me.” He brushes your nipples again and you shiver. “And I’d slip my hand into my underwear, and rub my clit. Pretend it was you.” His hands abandon your breasts and slide around to your back. You step forward as he takes off your shirt and then unhooks your bra and helps you out of it. His hands on your hips turn you to face him. 

“I knew you were beautiful. But you’re perfect.” Your instinct is to feel self conscious under his gaze, but you push it away when you notice the admiration in his eyes.  

You reach for him and finish the job of unbuttoning his shirt and then peeling it off of him. “Fair is fair.” You say. He laughs, but his laugh dies in his throat when your nails scratch down his chest. 

Your hands explore his exposed chest and back, feeling the muscle move underneath soft skin, and he works to rid you of your pants. You use him for balance as you step out of your pants, but as soon as you're standing on two feet again, he backs you toward your bed. 

When the back of your legs hit the bed, you allow yourself to fall back onto it. He leans over you, your legs open for him and he kisses you again. Your hands continue their previous tour of his back, now feeling how his shoulder blades move when he grinds against you. 

The first time he does it, you throw your head back in a moan. Even though you have multiple layers of fabric between you, you can still feel the heat radiating through you. He does it again and you arch up to meet his movement. When he does it a third time your nails scratch down his back. 

He makes a low noise from the back of his throat and you know that your panties are soaked. His lips take a journey down your body, kissing and nipping at your clavicle, your chest, spending a significant amount of time on both of your breasts, and down your stomach. Your clawing at his back by the time his mouth meets the band of your underwear. 

“Look at you,” he whispers. His thumb rubs lightly at your clit over the fabric. Your thighs clench and he laughs. “Keep them open for me, baby.” You mewl at the pet name. “You like that? Being called baby?” 

“Yes.” You groan out when his thumb repeats his earlier action. 

He does it again, almost unbearably slow. “I want to taste you so bad. I’ve wanted to know how good you taste for so long.” His voice is strained. 

“You can. I want you to.” 

His hands skate up to the hem of your underwear and you lift your hips slightly as he pulls them down. You open your legs for him again and he swallows. “Stunning.” His mouth is on you before you have time to process the word. 

Almost instantly, he moans against you, the vibrations causing your toes to curl. Your hands clench your duvet and he pulls away for a split second, “touch me.” You do what he asks, coiling your fingers into his hair. He laps at your clit, creating a pattern and rhythm that makes your buck up to meet him. His hands grip at your hips and hold you in place. 

“Spencer, oh fuck,” you ramble. He answers by moaning against you again and then sucking your clit into his lips. You bite down a scream. The heat at the base of your spine spreads across your body. “Oh my god. Oh god.” 

He alternates between lapping and sucking at your sensitive bud, your nails practically digging into his scalp, your toes curling, as you try to catch your breath. Just at the moment where it feels like too much, your body clenches and crashes over the edge of your ecstacy, his name falling from your lips repeatedly. 

He continues to lap at you softly until your muscles relax in his arms and then he looks up at you, smiling and his lips glistening, “you’re incredible.” You pull him up, so that you can kiss him. You kiss the taste of you off his lips. He brings his head up to look at you, pushes away the stray hairs stuck to your forehead. “Are you going to get sick of me calling you beautiful?” He smiles. 

“No, I don’t think I could.” He smiles into another kiss. His hands travel down your body and as soon as one of his fingers slides across your folds, the flames reignite. 

“Is this okay?” He asks. “I want all of you.” One of his fingers slips inside of you and then he pulls it out. He slides it back in and then repeats his action, starting slow and building up to a comfortable tempo, as he continues to kiss you. Nothing about his movements is frantic, but rather languid and relaxed, gently stoking the growing fire inside of you. You grind your hips against his finger and he smoothly adds a second finger. The feeling is different, but not bad as you feel yourself accommodating the extra digit. 

“Alright?” He checks in with you, looking into your eyes. 

“It feels good.” It’s not like the times you’ve laid here in this bed with your fingers inside you. It’s an entirely divergent sensation that you don’t think your imagination would have been able to conjure. “Really good.” 

“Yeah?” He stops sliding his fingers in and out and instead leaves them inside as he pumps them, almost as if he’s searching. He finds what he’s looking for when you gasp and cling to his shoulder. 

“Yeah.” You nod furiously, biting down on your lip. He’s no longer building the tension within you. Instead, it’s like he’s playing with a taut rubber band, waiting for it to snap. 

You feel your eyes start to close, wanting to roll to the back of your head. “Keep your eyes on me, baby. I want to see. Want to see you come apart for me.” 

You force your eyes open. “Spencer…” 

“I know, relax into it.” His thumb starts to rub your clit. “You’re doing so good.”  

“Oh my god,” you start to mutter and ramble again, a mixture of curses and Spencer’s name. You never break eye contact with him. It’s intense, but also intimate. 

“Are you gonna come for me, baby?” 

You let out a whine in answer and feel a muscle in your thigh twitch. Your core clenching on his fingers, the wet sounds of his fingers inside of you filling the room. The grip on his shoulders is tight and you hope it isn’t painful, but he barely seems to notice, all of his attention is on you. The mixture of admiration and lust on his features is almost too much. But you’re realizing that Spencer Reid never does anything part way or half-assed. Once Spencer puts his mind to something, he’s going to accomplish it. Not only that, but he’s going to put an almost Herculean effort into it. And somehow, you’ve become something he’s put his mind to. The thought makes you lean up and kiss him. 

You kiss him until a gasp separates your lips from him. “So perfect,” he muses. Your core constricts and contracts on his fingers. Your breathing is short and your legs feel like they’re shaking, but you can’t really tell. “Come for me.” 

One more shaky breath and then you do, the rubber band snaps. Your body arcs up into him and he swallows your shout with his lips, kissing you deeply. Again, he slows down but doesn’t stop, guiding you down from your high. When he does pull his fingers from you, you watch as he brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean. 

This time you don’t need him to rekindle the flame of need inside of you, it's already there. You reach between your bodies for his belt. Together, the two of you make quick work of the last of his clothing. And then he’s kissing you again, both his hands and your own caress, rub, and grab at each other. You reach down lower and lower, until you meet his hardened length with your hand. You grip the base and he falters. 

“I’d love that. Really, I want it so bad. But I won’t last, baby.” You squeeze him again and smile up at him, fluttering your eyelashes. “You’re a vixen.” He laughs, kissing you. 

“I want you.” 

“Fuck. I don’t have a condom.” You blink, it’s the first time you’ve ever heard Spencer drop the f-bomb. You giggle. 

“I have some.” One of his eyebrows raises in question and you shrug. “I like to be prepared. They’re over there.” You gesture toward your nightstand and he stretches over to open it. 

“Oh,” he lets out a surprised gasp and just then you remember what else is in your top drawer. “I guess you don’t just use your fingers to masturbate, do you?” He laughs. 

You reach up behind you and grab a pillow and toss it at him. He dodges it and it falls to the floor. “Like I said, I’m a virgin, not inexperienced.” 

Spencer grabs the box of unopened condoms, opens it and pulls one out. He carefully places the box back, his eyes lingering on your menagerie of sex toys. 

“What are you doing?” You ask. 

“I have an eidetic memory. I’m remembering… for later.” He smiles and you feel your heart speed up, pounding against your ribcage. You hadn’t had time to discuss anything past tonight. His smile falters. “I mean – I don’t mean to presume anything. Only if you want.” 

You reach over to him and pull him back toward you, kissing him. “I do. I want there to be a next time. Other times.” 

He looks down at you, searching. “Good, I do too.” He kisses you and only pulls away to put on the condom. He continues his kisses as he moves to position himself, spreading your legs for him. He brushes his thumb over your clit again and you moan. When he lifts his head from yours and glances up at you. You nod your head. 

You feel the tip of him at your entrance, pressing against you, but not fully in. That’s all he does at first, until you move on him and allow him to slip into you. He works himself into you, allowing you to stretch around him. It isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s definitely a new sensation. None of your toys feel like him. Both of you watch as his penis slowly disappears inside of you. He pushes in the last inch with a thrust. There’s a flash of a pinch and you let out a breath. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. 

“Yeah, just give me a second.” He nods, licks his bottom lip and then resumes his circles on your clit. It only takes a few seconds for you to relax on him. You grind your hips, somehow taking him deeper. He groans. “Move, Spencer. Please.” 

He inches out of you and then pushes back in without any urgency or force. He starts the same pattern and rhythm his fingers had used earlier that night. The feeling of him moving inside of you is incredible, you can feel him dragging against your walls. His body against yours, skin to skin, more connected than you’ve ever been with anyone else. Between the feeling of him pumping into and his movement against your clit, it doesn’t take long until you’re clawing at his back, wordlessly asking him for more. He answers, creating a relentless rhythm that you grind your hips to match. 

At some point, your eyes had shut and you hadn’t realized and so you force them open again, wanting to watch Spencer come apart just like he watched you. “You feel so good. Better than I could have imagined.” He starts to ramble. “I can’t believe I get to feel you like this. So good.” 

His eyes shoot down to watch himself slip in and out of you. “Fuck.” He cusses again. You decide you like when he curses, especially if you’re the reason. He moves his hips and his cock finds the same spot his fingers found earlier and you clench around him as you let out a deep groan. 

You lose track of time, it moves at a snail’s pace, but also at the speed of light. Time ceases to exist to you, your world shrinks down to only the two of you, everything else falls away. And then you’re falling again, diving headfirst into an orgasm. 

“Yes, yes. I love feeling you like this. Oh my god… oh fuck. I’m gonna –” he sputters. 

You reach up and pull his lips to yours, kissing him through his own orgasm. He shakes above you as he pumps into you with a final harsh push. And then when he peaks, he slowly fucks into you through his orgasm. He continues to kiss you until both of your breathing returns to normal and then he lifts his head to look at you. 

He smiles and you can’t help it when a huge toothy smile appears on your own face. 

“Are you okay?” He inquires. 

“I’m perfect.” 

His hand reaches up and caresses the side of your face. “You are.” 

The next morning you walk into the office still smiling. Everyone is around the desks, including Spencer. He glances over at you and nods in greeting, as if you hadn’t just said goodbye to him a few hours ago, the first golden rays of dawn streaming through your bedroom window. 

“Good morning.” You say to everyone. You set your go bag down at your desk and Emily smiles over at you, a mischievous glint in her eyes. 

“Oh, Morgan. You had it all wrong.” She teases. 

Morgan looks at Emily and then over to you. “What?” 

“That is the look of a woman who got it real good last night.” Emily laughs, loud and brash. You smile with her and Penelope gasps. 

“Tell. Me. Everything.” She runs over to you and grabs onto your arm. 

“I have no idea what you mean.” You reply innocently. 

JJ smirks. “Oh, she got it real good last night.” 

“Is sex all you guys think about?” You joke. The girls laugh and Morgan still seems confused. Spencer is focused on the file on his desk, but his finger isn’t moving down it and you know he isn’t reading it. “I had a good night last night.” You give a small inch, just to stave them off. Penelope squeals. You grab her hand. “And that’s all I’ll say about it.” 

“Boo!” Emily exclaims. 

Penelope almost pouts. “Oh, you are the worst!” 

“I know!” You laugh gleefully. Spencer looks up for only a split second, but you catch it and he smiles at you. 

“I’ll find out eventually. You do know that, right?” Penelope warns. 

“You are terrifying.” You squeeze her arm and turn away from the group to start on your mountain of files. It’s true that eventually everyone would probably find out about you and Spencer, but for now the two of you get to live in your own personal world. You smile to yourself.

tag list: @spenciesprincess @catalinasroom @tylevx @alicentswife @ingrid69rs @sobbingcryingattsizzles @infinitegalaxiesworld

[londonfoginacup]

Personal stream of consciousness around Liam and grief and moving forward

Every day I wake up and Liam is still dead. It continues to sort of feel like at some point I will wake up and that won’t be true, that he’ll be back, like he’s just on a trip right now. And I think that’s… a normal part of the grieving process, but it’s hard because it feels disrespectful, almost.

I only did 8 days of inktober this year. I had another ten sketched out already in my notebook, and now I wonder what to do with those. Some of them were good! (Some weren’t). I was older than Liam by a month or so, but for some reason I want to be able to go to him now, and show him those sketches, and say, I do art too! Aren’t you proud of me?

Death is a horrible and unnatural thing. It was never supposed to happen to us. We grieve because we were not made to lose people. We were made to love them forever. Grief is our body trying desperately to reconcile with a reality it was never made for. That is why it feels this way. We were not made for a life like this. We were made to hold one another in our arms. We were made to love each other. We were made for more.

I want to tell him that. That he was made for more than he got. I hope someday I can.

When tumblr started having polls, I always voted the Liam option, and in part that was because I love Liam and I would’ve chosen him regardless. But in part it was with the thought that, if he were to ever snoop on our community here, I wanted Liam to see that he had people in his corner. I don’t regret that. I’m sad it’s all I could do.

I was thinking about it earlier. About One Direction. I tried to slice it so many ways and I came to the conclusion that Liam and Louis are the ones that I think were the heart. I think 1D could’ve come back together to tour, make music, and so on, as long as it had at least those two. 1D could never exist without Liam. It just couldn’t. He loved them too much.

Obviously, I haven’t turned my queue back on. I haven’t felt right reblogging current day stuff about the boys. It feels like turning that back on will indicate being ready to move on, to some extent. And okay, I’ll never be ready so there’s that. But. The idea of turning it back on doesn’t feel right. Not yet.

That being said, I started last month preparing for Christmas. For the 25 days of fic rec I do, and the advent fic. And of course cards. I had decided just a week before Everything Happened that I couldn’t afford to do physical cards this year. And I feel ten times more guilty about that decision now, because it feels like surely people NEED that! But I am also trying to be realistic with myself; so many wonderful people have offered to help financially, and any other time I think I would’ve taken them up on that, but right now the emotional and mental weight of doing physical cards might also be too heavy.

Which, again, makes me feel like I’m letting people down when they need me. If I could, I would send all of you personalized letters every day. It is so hard to reckon with the knowledge that I am only human and must take care of myself.

But I will do the fic recs. that’s easy; I’ve already finished the post graphics.

And I will do the advent fic (I might change my plot— the original one didn’t have a lot of Liam, but i think I need him there more).

And I will make some sort of digital cards for sure. It occurred to me this year that I never put my paper dolls online anywhere and I sort of wonder why not. At least maybe this will be a treat for anyone too wary of sending a stranger online their address— all of you can print th paper dolls for yourselves. I’ll make plenty of outfits.

So. That’s my plan, I suppose. I’ve cried writing this more than I’ve cried all week, I think because it’s easy to think that I am past the worst of the grieving right up until I have to look head on at the facts again.

I miss him. I miss him. How could this happen.

[mercurymacaroons]

another wip of mr disco ninja frog himself

wip . ۫ ꣑ৎ . do you fw this twink

[omaano]

SW Hades AU July Update

Other updates: May - June - July - August

I've made a lot more progress with my Star Wars meets Hades AU project than I'd imagined - and absolutely none in other aspects, so let's see how the past month has been!

I have finished the character illustrations both for Maul

and Omega, (look how cute she is in her pocket sized version! ^^)

and I have also finally rounded out my Din collection, so that I now have 6 variations on his character art (helmet on and off, with Grogu and the darksaber, and with and without Grogu and the beskar spear in hand).

Aphra has lines and flat colours too, as well as the very basic lighting layers on her!

I'm real hyped to start working on her! I'm very proud of the dynamic pose I picked for her, too. I'll likely up the red in her jacket and gloves for a bit of a pop in colour, because all this brown everywhere is growing a little boring tbh. Like with certain other characters...

There has been some progress with Obi-Wan, but it's going suuuper slow, and I continue to preemptively worry about how I should completely redraw him for after his reunion with Cody, too. (Iirc Patroclus is standing with his spear in hand after he's reuinted with Achilles in Hades, and I also very badly want to draw him with his lightsaber ignited, but I feel that wouldn't be very good for him just, you know, hanging out in front of his little house on Tatooine...)

And now I'm going to add my first ever poll for the next month in case anyone wants to weigh in on the order in which I add characters to this project:

I'm making no promises, but I thought this could be fun :)

This post is growing a little long, so I'm putting the rest about Obi-wan's background re-draw, and some musings on picking colours for Omega under the read more ->

There was no room for it in the previous update, but I'd fully redrawn one background finally for Obi-Wan's chilling spot!

It is the same setup as where you can find Patroclus in game, with the walls and the chasm and the doors out, but I added Obi-Wan's hut and a desert envisonment. (I've watched so many videos on how to draw in an isometric grid, because there was always something that just wouldn't work... I'd thought there was a trick to drawing squares and circles in this grid that I just couldn't figure out for the life of me - and it turns out that I was just careless and my grid wasn't tight enough so I had to eyaball distances and the width and length of things too much lol.) And now I'm faced with the difficult task of picking colours and figuring out if the character shading tricks also apply here or not.

For now these colours are more for just to block in certain elements in the background, but I have some more desert/desolate looking backgrounds saved from other Supergiant games (they've got some really vibrant and dark colours, like wow!) as well to hopefully help me out moving forward.

I'd redrawn those bulbs you can find over the door leading out of various chambers in-game, because I might as well go in full re-design mode bit by bit, and after some deliberation and googling I picked the Mandalorian Crusaders symbol as inspiration for it.

And now back to Omega for a bit:

While I was working on the character illustration for Omega and Batcher I became very aware of how weird it is to pick colours for me. (I very heavily rely on preexisting colour palettes; I have multiple saved just for the Hades project like for Rex, Ahsoka, Cobb...) I'd been working on Rex and Cody last (Maul doesn't count because he doesn't have very human colours, so picking reds and purples and browns for him wasn't so shocking tbh), and aside from the armor paint and hair colour they very much share the very same colour palette. That was easy, I'd picked the skintones off Boba and the little portrait icons already, upped the saturation a bit because seeing the base skintone laid down scared me, and off I went.

(Laying down the first layer of flat colours is always super scary because they too often seem too dark and too grey/green, which I know will change after the complete shading is done but it still looks very off putting...)

So. The way the colouring in Hades made sense for me is that it works with pretty desaturated colours, there is a lighter shadow colour that's a bit more desaturated and the hue is shifted cooler but is still pretty cool to the original base colour (so much that I'd often have to turn it darker so that I'd see it laid down if I'm not sitting right), and another darker shadow layer that is a tad more saturated and warmer in tone. And there is also (a possibly slightly cooler shifted) and lighter highlight, and another more saturated colourful highligt (in the skin that is the bright, peachy orange for example). (and the little super bright pops of colour at the very very end. I hate adding them so much, but they are very important!)

But while I could pick the skin tones off of Rex, the problem I'd tumbled into was when it came to shading her hair (it's very important to me that Rex and Omega shared all these colours). Omega has a lot more hair (shocking, I know), and so shading that required a lot more than Rex's simple two-tones, and the "shadow" colour from Rex just didn't work, it was too saturated and warm in a larger quantity. So I tried to find another blond character in Hades, picked some colours off of Theseus... and those didn't work too well either, because those colours looked too pale and washed out compared to how lively her skintone was. There had been a lot of adjusting - I'd colour picked all of Theseus' colours and watched like a hawk where my colour marker moved both in hue and saturation a couple times in every which way and tried to mimic that in comparison to my base colour... and then you already saw how she ended up.

Here is the visual representation of the process:

I do a lot of these swatches.

You can see them there next to Omega with the blues and the gold/metallic detail colours (the latter of which I'd ended up using in her crossbow), and up above with the Obi-Wan wip as well (I needed to pick a lot of colours from Chaos and Aphrodite to figure out how to go about his pale skin), but I also worked like this with Din and Achilles in the beginning, as well as trying to pick the greens for Boba's armor. Usually the first and biggest hurdle I run into is choosing my base colours... that's something I really need to work on; but after that this method really helped me feel a lot more comfortable with cell shading.

I hope it made sense to you, and it was at least a tad bit entertaining (or if I'd ruined the word "colour" for you for a while, I'm sorry XD, I know I'd used it a lot). This was really the first time I'd truly seen how I changed around the colours I worked with in a piece, and also tried to go a bit more consciously about shifting them around here (that's why I have all the screenshots XD) and thought I might as well share them here in this monthly update.

I've also switched over to using CSP and a display tablet, in the hopes that I can familiarize myself with them without the pressure of needing some fancy or very specific brushwork and work process. No texture, little need for pressure sensitivity - I hope to slowly pspsps my brain into accepting working with these, and build up some success and good experiences before I try sketching and drawing on it and maybe trying out some new unfamiliar brushes as well ^^;

[newtonsheffield]

Now that Take a Deep Breath is nearing the end, will one of your other WIPs take the weekly Friday update spot? If so, can I please put in my vote for YNCIWIW? Idk what it is about Author!Anthony and Editor!Kate, but they have me by the throat.

Also, I'm rereading childhood bffs, fwb Anthony and Kate in Hand, and I'm dead. Any chance we might see what they're up to?

Thanks for sharing your amazing writing with us. And I'm glad Greggy is doing better. :)

Okay so there’s two stories up for the next Friday fic:

1) Ice Skating partners Kate and Anthony who hooked up a few times and decided that they shouldn’t be in a. Relationship with each other for the sake of their partnership. They are however full of angst and jealousy over anyone each other should choose to date. Anthony B is the bad boy of figure skating and he’s determined to get Kate exactly what she wants; A gold medal

2) Surprise Neddy.

I think I’ll start a poll on this

Greggy is very much doing better today but still has a complete lack of regard for his stomach lining begging for jalapeño flavoured cheezels. Like a fool.

Anyway, My hand was the one you reached for Kate and Anthony are doing so well. Turns out all those years of friendship, even if it was mired in pining for one another desperately made for a pretty stable relationship. That being said I think one of the most stressful times in their relationship was when Kate taught anthony to drive. She completely understands why Anthony’s always avoided it. His Dad died in a car accident and the two have become linked in his mind. That being said, Kate’s pregnant and he just thinks it’s… time he did this. He can’t be asking Kate to drive herself to the hospital when the baby comes, can he?

So after a few weeks of secrecy, he’s got his provisional licence and he’s ready to ask his wife for maybe the most stressful thing he’s ever asked her for.

He felt anxious even at the thought of it. Even the thought of getting behind the wheel made his palms sweat as he walked over and flopped down on the sofa beside his wife.

Kate kissed him quickly, ruffling his hair. “Finished tricking women into buying your buns?”

Anthony rolled his eyes, “If only I could trick you.”

“I’ve bought plenty of your buns, thanks.”

Anthony took a deep breath, his hands shaking a little, “Can I ask you a favour?”

“Oh, you mean more than just carrying your baby?”

“Yeah a little more.” He steeled himself, “Can you teach me how to drive?”

Kate’s brow furrowed, “To drive?”

Anthony shifted, “Yeah I just… I think I should be able to for the baby, in case anything happens and… I just… I think I should.”

Kate nodded, “You know you don’t have to, right?”

“I know. I just feel the most comfortable with you so I… I think that’ll be best. ”

She smiled at him, “Okay, let’s do it. If our marriage can survive that he can probably survive anything.”

[albed-hoe]

i have finally arrived 🤭🤭

OKAY I’LL GIVE U A FEW SCENARIOS I GOT IN MIND AND YOU’RE FREE TO EXPAND ON WHICHEVER ONE YOU WANT TO (idm gender neutral reader but was hoping for male :D )

REVERSE COMFORT: m!reader comforting poor lyney after the most recent 4.1 archon quest. (SPOILERS: after freminet has been moved the the medical area)

so lyney is really worried for his brother (it takes place before he’s fully up) and we’re jus hugging him and reassuring him that he’ll be okay bc we’re husband material like that 💪🏻

˚₊‧꒰ა💉໒꒱ ‧��

FLUFF: i was thinking maybe the m!reader is a popular fontainian singer/popstar/dancer or anything that gains him popularity, and hence builds up a mass fanclub of ladiessss (if yk where i’m goin w this🤭)

so maybe we could get some jealous lyney up in here and m!reader feels bad for him so after the performance he takes lyney up on stage and gives a smooch on the cheek 😭

˚₊‧꒰ა💉໒꒱ ‧₊

ANGST (with comfort bc my heart cannot physically take angst with no comfort): OKAY KINDA INSPIRED BY SOMEONE ELSES IDEA BUT KINDA DIFFERENT!

m!reader got those richly rich strict ass parents who don’t approve of him dating someone as low as a magician (he’s also a guy but i’m taking this down a different root) and they aren’t abusive but they are pretty neglectful and strict on him.

reader finally had enough of their bs tho and him and lyney (with lynette & freminet ofc) run away to snezhnaya and have the reader work for the house of the hearth w them.

AND (bc i never shut up) then a few years pass when lyney finally takes over for the knave they waltz back into fontaine together with m!reader being his 2nd in command (once again, alongside freminet and lynette bc wherever he goes they go)

˚₊‧꒰ა💉໒꒱ ‧₊

PERSONAL FAVOURITE (i think abt this idea a LOT)

FOUND FAMILY /W COMFORT (heavily with freminet bc i love him sm HSNFEMCJEM)

basically m!reader went for a lil dive to get lyney some new flowers for his magic show later and he runs into freminet crying under the water

and ofc big brother instincts kick in 💪🏻 and we take him above shore and coddle him like how lyney would to freminet

AND THEN WE TAKE HIM HOME AND WE MEET UP W LYNEY AND HES JUS LIKE “OMG IF THIS MAN DOESNT PUT A RING ON MY FINGER RN IMMA LOOSE MY SHIT” because he adores the way m!reader looks out for his siblings the way he would.

(I HAVE ANOTHER VERSION OF THIS RQ WITH LYNETTE IF YOU EVER WANNA HEAR IT BTW)

˚₊‧꒰ა💉໒꒱ ‧₊

SPICY 😏😏😏:

i actually don’t have anything to much for this category but some simple spicy hc’s with a sub!lyney would be great (let’s be real this man isn’t dominating anyone). (he also has a breeding kink GOODBYE)

Found Family (Freminet ver.)

Characters: Freminet & Lyney x M!Reader

Summary: After bringing his younger brother home, Lyney thinks he’s found his husband for life

Warnings: Slight angst to comfort, Freminet crying, Lyney being hopelessly in love and shyyyy

Word count: 767

A/n: Okay first of all I’m so sorry for disappearing for like a year and a half… I totally lost motivation and finished university in the meantime and now I’m looking for a job but no one is hiring me so yay? TYSM FOR THIS REQUEST LY LOTS🤩 I might write some of the other ones too? Might make a poll for which one to do next cuz I’m undecided… Anyways THIS ONE GOES OUT TO THE MALE READER COMMUNITY!!! I fell in love with Lyney and still (I think?) have yet to come across a Lyney x male reader fic😫 So here is my contribution! I ALSO HAVE REQUESTS OPEN SO FEEL FREE TO REQUEST LYNEY X M!READER STUFF PLS AND TYYYYY

It was a warm afternoon as you got your scuba gear on, preparing to dive in the depths of Fontaine on a mission to look for flowers for your beloved boyfriend, Lyney’s, magic show tonight. You latched in your helmet and dove below the surface, sighing in satisfaction at the cool water enveloping your body after having been sweating all day. The fish danced around you happily and the rays flapped their wings gracefully on their way to find places to float around.

You reached the seabed, swimming around and beginning to collect the flowers that your boyfriend had requested. You stop after a few seconds to listen to a sound you could not initially identify. Listening closely, you follow the sounds of what seem to be sniffles over a ridge of sand. Peeking over the edge, you see a little blue form with a diving helmet on, balled up with his head in the pit of his elbow.

“Freminet?” You swam up to the form, recognizing Lyney’s younger brother, a sad expression on the screen of your diving helmet. You begin to rub circles into his back as he sniffles, embarrassed to have been found crying alone. “What happened?” You offer him a warm smile, encouraging him to confide in you.

“*Sniff* I- I made a fool of myself in the Court of Fontaine today… I- *sniff* I fell and dropped a whole basket of peaches…” Taking pity on him, you ask him if he wants a hug, then you pull him into your arms and rub comforting circles on his back.

“Wanna go back up? I’ll walk you home.” The boy nods and you swim back up with him in your arms.

Arriving on the beach, you take off his diving helmet and reveal his red, puffy eyes. You internally coo at how cute he looks but remember that he is in a vulnerable state and mentioning what he looks like would likely not be appropriate at the moment. So, after cupping a comforting hand on his cheek, you take his hand and walk him home.

Arriving at the triplets’ door (I know they aren’t all related, but for simplicity’s sake…), you knock and wait for the light pads from inside to reach you. The door swings open to reveal Lyney in his pajamas with a surprised expression.

“Y-Y/n! And Freminet!” He blushes slightly at having noticed you before his own younger brother and at having been seen in pajamas by someone he has been trying to impress. You gently push Freminet in front of you, handing him over to Lyney who hugs him shortly, ruffles his hair, then passes him on to Lynette who takes his hand, nods at you thankfully, then takes him into the home. Lyney steps out onto the porch and closes the door behind him.

“Uh… Thanks for taking my brother home. He can disappear better than myself, sometimes…” He rubs the back of his neck, a little embarrassed at the situation. You had only declared each other officially boyfriends about a month prior, so the whole relationship thing was a new concept to the ‘suave’ Lyney the public knew. It pleasantly surprised you to discover that he was actually very easy to fluster, making for a very cute boyfriend to tease occasionally.

“Yeah, no problem. I found him on the seabed crying while I was looking for your flowers, so I comforted him and brought him here. Oh, here you go by the way.” You hand him the flowers he needed for his show while smiling warmly at him. The tips of his ears immediately reddened, both at his immediate thoughts of marriage and at what the offer of flowers looked like. He knew this was not a love confession or anything of the sort, but the current situation could have fooled an outside observer.

He stepped forward and threw his arms around you, sandwiching the flowers between the two of you. He buried his face in your neck in an attempt to hide his face exploding with heat.

“… I love you…” That was all he managed to say after a few moments. You laughed, placing a kiss on the top of his head.

“I love you too, but… Watch the flowers.” He pulled himself away from you immediately, realizing he was damaging his precious show flowers.

“AH! Sorry! Uhm… Did you wanna come inside for a bit?” He looked into your eyes with a shy smile on his face, his cheeks and ears still red from before.

“I’d love to.” You said, your eyes locked on his.

Aur my gawdddd this was my first fic in a loooong time I’m so sorry if it was ass… THIS WAS CUTE AND I LOVE FREMINET TOO, PLS LEMME HEAR THE LYNETTE VERSION OF THIS😎

[evaskjew]

I'm trying something for fandom artists/writers

Well, as I don't have anyone to tag (I'm really the least sociable person in the world and I'm too scared to talk to people in the fandom 😂), it's up to those who see this post to participate or not (if it turns out that it's not going to take at all, but never mind!)

Well, as my thing is drawing, I'll go with that (but you can adapt it to writing for those who write, or anything else for that matter!)

Last drawing:

Favourite drawing:

Well, I'm cheating, I'm putting two in because I can't choose 😖 On the one hand it's my best pastel drawing (to say it's also my second realistic portrait in colour) and on the other the painting I did with my grandmother and it's also the first time I've done anything other than a portrait in realistic drawing with a background and so on.

Hated drawing:

Right, then. Here again it's hard to put just one. I'm VERY hard on myself and I hate almost all my drawings 🥲 But really, if I have to choose, there are three that I really can't see any more because I find them so horrible.

Future project(s):

Following the poll, I'm going to start working on a new portrait of Garreth.

Next up, why not draw Ominis again (I've taken several in-game screenshots of him that I'd like to do to work on the backgrounds) and I'd also like to draw characters I haven't drawn yet, like Natsai or Amit.

And maybe one day, when I'm bored because I can't find any more images to use as models, I might draw some MCs from in-game screenshots.

And apart from drawing, I'd like to finish writing my OS by the end of the year 😂

Favourite artist:

There are far too many talented people in fandom ❤️

But without hesitation I'd say @tamayula-hl! Long before I dared to post my drawings online, I admired her work so much and even today I jump on every notification as soon as she posts! I know I'll never reach her level but her work is a source of inspiration and motivation (even more so now that I've switched to watercolour and I'm still trying to figure out how to work with colours, the way she works with colour is so incredible 🥰)

And I can't thank her enough for her post showing all the possible angles for Ominis' and Sebastian's hairs, it was so helpful 🙏🏻

And I admire @choccy-milky too! These are the two fandom artists I've been following since I started on Tumblr a little over a year ago 😄

One or few points on which I would like to improve:

First of all, I've managed to stop transferring the outlines of my drawings. Yes, it's a bit cheating to transfer, I know. But if I don't do it, the proportions are going to be catastrophic and that's going to piss me off (long live my perfectionism) and I'm going to stop and stubborn as I am coupled with my lack of self-confidence, I'm never going to want to draw again. So for the time being, we're going to keep tracing 😅 We'll see what happens in time.

But most of all, I'd like to stop depending on images I find on Pinterest or Tumblr and just reproduce them as drawings. I'm incapable of doing anything other than faithfully reproducing an image 😢 It annoys me, because I'd also like to post lots of drawings of my MC Evangeline interacting with other characters 😞 And the worst thing is the difference in my drawing level when I do something that doesn't depend on a reference image! (the proof: my drawings of Evangeline and this drawing of Ominis)

I took it upon myself while writing this post and forced myself to do a drawing of Evangeline in 20 minutes without a model (I just traced a neutral pose from a drawing dummy to have my base and improvised from my watercolour of Evangeline for her outfit).

You be the judge:

The end of her leg and her shoe is a disaster 😭

Well, that's that. I don't know how it's going to turn out and whether any artists/writers are going to take part, but it was a fun post to make!

[the9mm]

I am SO not ready to start serious work on this just this moment, but yea, they opened up applications and I had to panic put something in and... I decided I'm going to do the Asimov inspired pin set and I thought you folks in the fandom would want to know. :) I don't know what date Pintopia 2025 is happening yet, but I know it's in January of 2025.

I have 5 designs ready, though they need some tweaking, and they'll be unlocked one at a time. I have a large 6th design (not shown) that is about 50% done that I need to sit down and noodle on to finish up. The first design that will trigger the whole thing is the Assembly design. The order of design unlocks will probably be determined via a poll in the campaign.

You can subscribe to get notified of when the project launches using this link here in case you're afraid you might miss it. A lot of people are like "who is Asimov exactly?" so I'mma need your help on this one (but also I'm hoping the designs are cool enough on their own that it won't matter if someone knows the characters or not).

I'll be finishing up all of the designs and building out the page likely right after my sci-fi book crowdfunder ends (starting end of Sept) but I'll start seriously shouting about this prob in November. I appreciate anyone signing up for it now, though, and passing the word along to your Daneel and Giskard loving friends.

[threestripeslider]

back at it again with a vibe check!!

let me preface this as brief as possible: I don’t care about polls.

dont get me wrong, i think they’re fun!! especially the sillay goofy ones like “which peepaw would get obliterated by a single chili in their food” that kind of silly.

but i’ve been noticing a trend in which a lot of those polls are starting to look like thinly veiled popularity contests – obviously not everyone intends that, but it’s just starting to look like that. me personally? i dont really give a shit bc again, i write for myself bc i wanna read specific things and i might as well produce what i want to see and just invite everyone else who has a similar desire. but if you’re gonna start polls just to see which is more “popular” then i kindly ask you to leave my stuff out of it bc im getting a little tired of it.

i do recognise odd man out is well known bc ppl like what i write and tell ppl about it, so i think it’s not only a little unfair to pit smaller fics against mine but also invites a lot of ugly behaviour like shitting on the bigger fics just bc they are “popular”. im sorry, but most of us werent even ASKED if we wanted to be in those polls and honestly? i refuse to take any responsibility for hurt feelings.

i’m doing this for Fun, i’m not competing with anyone. us with “big fics” literally do not owe you any consolation, we’re doing this for free and none of it pays us any bills. all what these repeated competitions and comparisons do is kill motivation and the fun we get from creating and exchanging ideas.

i had fun with the recently finished peepaw poll bc with how i interacted with some of the members, a lot of them didnt take it as seriously and i liked that, that’s what made it fun. im not telling you to not stop making polls, but at least dont create any where it seems like you all are clamoring for some popularity contest – leave my stuff out of those bc i really dont wanna deal with weird comments and halfway demanding asks bc i promise, i will not care about it bc we’re all some guy on the internet. but i know some ppl really dont wanna be part of this but are stuck pretending they’re okay out of fear they’re gonna ruin everyone’s fun – and you all know im not a fan of putting everyone’s fun before anyone’s boundaries.

so here’s mine; you may use odd man out in your polls, especially the silly goofy ones. i’d prefer that you don’t use odd man out in your borderline popularity polls, but even if you do, i won’t care about it and will dismiss it along with everything related to it. and please, for the love of god, stop putting me, my stuff or anyone else and their stuff on a pedestal bc that never ends well for anybody.

[fandoomrants]

Ok, so as much as the Hunger Games scare and unnerve me as a concept, I really want to learn so many things about how they played out through the years...

Let's start with the first games ever. I wonder how long they took and what happened, who was the victor ofc, I think that in this exact case, all tributes had more or less equal chances as they didn't know what to expect, but most importantly, how did everyone else die? Did anyone actually kill another tribute, or the arena finished them? Because we already saw what's going on in the 10th games and tbh, yes, there was a group that was ready to kill and all but most of them were just scared and didn't want to kill/hurt. But they got to watch 9 games before that and already had an idea what was to be expected. And also, this arena didn't seem that easy to control as the ones in the 74th and 75th so what happened during the first games?

Then there's the First Quarter Quell. It's been a while since I read the books and I don't remember seeing in the movies but it goes around the fandom that the twist there was people from the districts voted for who goes in? How crazy is that? Tbh, if I have to number the wickedness of these quells, I'd say this is the worst, followed by the victors entering again in the 75th, and then maybe the most... Mild would be the Second where it was double tributes. Because yeah, double the trubutes is awful but... they're all endangered and 23 or 47 lost lives is... when it comes to having large number of victims, somewhat not that crazy. And only victors entering again is also so crazy and twisted, like, look at them, they're all mostly mentally or phisically damged but imagine being chosen not in some large poll with numerous other names in it but because people choose you?! Like, neighbours, people that know you actually looked at you and decided "Yes, they'll be the ones doomed this time." How did this one even go?? I've already discussed this with friends and we were trying to decide if some of the districts chose the ones most likely to win, or just the ones they disliked for one reason or another. But come on, it's crazy. Though, this might be eventually how the idea of Careers appeared. But I also wanna know the victor of these games because just imagine winning games in which people you know put you in? How do you get back and live... Not a normal life but some kind of life and you just know people you interract on a daily basis send you to your death.

And then, of course like most people in this fandom, I want to know more about the games of the victors we've seen. We have some of them discussed and shown in bigger details but still, maybe just a little more information and details about how exactly these games played out wouldn't hurt...

I just said earlier how the Second Quarter Quell was maybe the most okay-ish when it comes to the twist but this doesn't make it less tragic. And we first see Haymitch when he's older and he's... Well, a total wreck, dealing with alcoholism and all of that and you just wonder how this guy even won?! And then we later learn how he won and what led him to become the way he is now but still, it's pretty crazy that he won when there were not 23 but 47 other people. And yes, he "cheated the system" but I don't really think he was the first one. As I've seen people pointing out, so did Lucy Gray and so did Katniss and Peeta. And I believe others also found a way to just... Survive. And as I sae in an earlier post, who was his mentor? I think there wasn't one. And there were surely Careers in these games too. Wasn't the last girl he was left with a Career? So, this guy from District 12 managed to win a game where there were double tributes without a mentor even. And then he just keeps suffering and honestly, I absolutely understand him. Honestly, I think for all he went through, alcoholism is an understandable thing, I probably would have just commited a suicide or sth. And the more I think about it, the more I think the real reason he was punished and had his whole family killed wasn't because he "cheated" but because he was someone who was extremely unlikely to win and yet he did and this is what really made lots of people angry. He wasn't an "interesting" tribute.

And speaking of "interesting", here comes Finnick. Yet another victor who we know most of the details about but still. He's famous for winning sg only 14. Was he a Career? Was he just unfortunate? And his whole story with Annie. Did they know each other before her games? Did they fall before or after that? Was she a Career? I've seen lots of people commenting on it and how she might have been, even though she developed problems after that. Likee, it's one thing to prepare for the games and a whole another to actually be there. Yet this only makes me think that if this was the case, they probably became a thing after the games. I just can't imagine him knowing what it means to be a victor (him, of all people!), and actually supporting her decision to take part.

And on the topic of Careers, I really want to know how this became a thing. I have to admit, I somewhat see the logic of children starting to prepare and train for the worst but I can't fully wrap my mind around the idea of someone volunteering for the games knowing fully well that they have a very big chance of dying. No matter what, there's is only one victor always (with one excpetion but we know how bad this played out in the end) so to enter willingly games where you just know there are others who have trained for? And one of them is also from your district and you've most likely trained together?? What's going onn?

And how some of the tributes would form packs. I actually want to see how games like this one played out. Haymitch and the girl from 12 (I know her name but I won't spell it right) broke theirs because they didn't want to kill each other in the end but there surely must have been games where this was the case in the end. A group of people who had been hunting down the others together would have been the only survivors in the end and they must have had to kill each other eventually. How do you even kill someone who was your ally and you had each others' backs until this moment??

And I also wonder how many people had won similarly to how Foxface got close to winning. By just avoiding the others and survivng. And were they punished for it later too?

Also, when and how did the victors become public and famous figures? We saw Lucy Gray after her games back in 12, continuing her life almost as before (though we see this through Snow's eyes so I don't claim she didn't have a hard time, it's just that she was left unbothered, mostly). Then, the 11th Games is when the Victor's Village first became a thing. And the tours? Everything else? The way the victors would be used by the Capitol for the rest of their lives? When did this become a thing? I can't help but think this must be just another form of punishment that was implemented there. They survive yet they suffer for it in other ways.

I just really need answers and these are only some things on top of my head now, I might add to the list later...

If anyone is interested in indulging and discussing these or something else, feel free to DM me..

[philtstone]

Aditha/nandini jacket

AFTER A MILLION YEARS I FINIALLY FINISHED THIS set in this verse and a prequel to the silly asides in this fic. a mix of book and movie canon as usual! for those who responded to my wip poll im sorry i ignored literally all of your votes and instead worked on "in which vandiyadevan is trapped in the toilet" but it ended up working out for everyone (me and the 2 mutuals reading this) so whos laughing NOW anyway apologies in advance for any cultural errors or general incoherency; its one in the morning and maya is in a different time zone. i had to google things! also none of this is serious. enjoy!

Evening is cooler than Nandini expected.

After the tumultuous heat of Poonghuzhali’s van, and the station, and the day, and the week — well, she did not anticipate shivering in the dark outside this dormitory. The leather motorcycle jacket she so pointedly wore in the blistering sun now, a week later, lies untouched beside her. They have had three stare-offs in the last twenty minutes, she and the jacket. She cannot bring herself to put it on; the idea leaves a queer feeling in her belly that she doesn’t care to examine. 

The dormitory itself is a relatively humble one, considering the wealth of its former occupant’s family. More a boy’s hostel than the kind of lodging the Cholas might secure for their most beloved child. Arunmozhi seems completely unbothered by the state of it. He grins widely at the orange toned walls, scuffed, and the low doors, slamming open and shut at intervals (though less now, so late into the night), and the general ruckus of the boys who greet them. They were all but cheering in welcome of their former dorm mate and his mismatched band of traveling companions, needing a place to avoid the authorities and – impossibly – his Uncles’ and her fathers’ spies, last minute. There was a lot of hugging that went around, at any rate. It’s not quite an elder siblingish relationship, Nandini thinks, though she is absurdly then struck by the question of whether the benign, chummy, kindly way Arunmozhi interacts with the younger boys is patterned after the way his own — that is to say, he has an older br — oooh.

Nandini does not want to think about it.

Just as well, because she’s many other, marginally less useless things to think of.

She is thinking of these things quite obsessively, in matter of fact. Scientific observation would suggest a verge on neuroticism. So it goes in Nandini’s head: oh, Lord, My Mother. She is Here. I’ve met Her. She is Alive after all, and so Beautiful, and so Fucking Weird. 

(The capitalizations are quite manifest in her own thoughts). 

If anyone else were to say the last she’d box them, but God it is true, and Nandini is nearly brought to happy tears by the realness of her mother’s strangeness. Her mother is exactly the same height as she. Her ears are not pierced. She favours her left leg, while Nandini favours neither, but when she walks she sways her hips in much the same way Nandini does when she is not thinking about it. She has hair which is nearly the same length and weight and texture, and it curls around the ears such that it must tickle – Nandini has much experience with this. Her mother’s fingers taper off as hers do; the nail beds are the same; her mother’s chin dimples against her neck in a way Nandini has always felt insecure about in herself. They have a mole in the same spot on their arm; Nandini’s left toe has a bunion near identical to the left toe of her mother; the bottom row of her mother’s teeth lay the same; her mother’s breasts are not very small, but not overly large either, and sit in the same position Nandini's do; her cheeks possess vestiges of the same roundness; her elbow wrinkles in the same way; her eyebrows are a bit unkempt in the middle, like Nandini’s were when she was a child and could not be bothered with their upkeep.

How strange it is! To see your own face so clearly in another. The slope of her nose — the curve of her mouth — the way her hair falls. Nandini wonders if this is what she will look like when she is old. She wonders if she is what her mother looked like when she was young. Surely the answer is yes. They are now inseparable in her mind, she and her mother, and it is overwhelming. She does not even need a father anymore; he has been axed from the equation. She has a mother. She knows her mother! 

And when she saw her mother for the first time, cheerfully led out of the very mundane, uninspired Thanjai local jail, her mother knew her. Nandini had stood, transfixed, as Mandakini had touched her gently on the cheek, just so, and began to cry quiet little tears that slipped down her cheeks like they were the simplest thing in the world for her to give, to feel, to shed.

Nandini has always hated crying. Real crying, anyway; she is an expert fake crier, as anyone successful in the world of Tamil soaps must be. But real crying is snotty and uncontrollable and undignified. 

Nandini thinks (she has been thinking all evening – it is really getting to be bad for her health) that is what makes her mother at once so unfamiliar, too.

There is so much tenderness in her face. Even without words (Nandini is so very good with words, honeyed and poisoned and flat and querulous, even, rarely, honest) her mother tells the world of her love. For her daughter (who craves it so badly); for Arunmozhi (who despite Nandini’s earliest assumptions seems to know he must earn it, however freely it is given); for simply living, it seems. Nandini cannot understand this last part. Life has been on whole pretty miserable, for her mother. What right does it have to her love? 

Nandini does not think she could ever love like that. 

She’s seated and steeped in these ruminations on the topmost step of the dusty concrete facing the dormitory courtyard; behind her must be the toilets, for there is a light on inside one of them, and in front of her is a small garden decorated with scraggly trees which housed the mango-stealing monkey who had earlier been tormenting the dorm’s inhabitants, and a little walking path. Earlier, in the dark, she saw Arunmozhi and her mother (her mother!) start off on a little walk along the path. She supposes it does make sense; they have not seen each other in a while, and he has explained to her how Mandakini saved him from that lake, and that rickshaw, and also his own slippery bathtub once in this very same dorm. They’re old pals: Nandini knew this going into the venture. He knows sign language and everything, and can communicate with her far better than Nandini can. So it makes sense that they must now catch each other up – she on why the police inspector was bribed to arrest her (this is still a little muddy) and he on his future career plans (vague) and current family business rescue plans (hairbrained and relying too much on the goodwill of Nandini herself, if she’s being honest). But watching them go, arm in arm, signing animatedly at one another left a strange ache in her heart. That was a while ago. Bits of the yard are illuminated by the light from one or two dorm windows, but on whole, it is past curfew, and therefore dark; Nandini is more or less alone with her thoughts and also the noise from the city beyond the wall. 

Being alone, she has spent the last thirty seconds staring sightlessly at some invisible point in front of her, eyes the size of saucers, spiraling.

“Erm – ahem.”

Nandini startles so badly her bangle-clad wrist nearly knocks into her own nose.

Aditha Karikalan has never been particularly tall. When they were teenagers there was a brief month where she had an inch on him. Right now, however, he stands above her such that she has to look up, and once more notice the fact that he does carry himself with a kind of dignified height. Which Nandini appreciates. Or did appreciate. Or – well, she is not sure. The last week has been quite a lot of everything. He wears a loose linen button down in a bright orange pattern open over a t-shirt, and a simple dhoti clumsily tied (she remembers the rare time he wore one in school, when they weren’t wearing their uniforms, she had helped him tie it), and sandals, and his wrists are sporting a nice fancy watch but they’re also covered in enough bead bracelets that, paired with his hair – unruly and wild and long as ever – he really does look far more the part of children’s camp counselor than first son of any kind of business mogul-cum-politician. 

Which Nandini appreciates. Or could appreciate. Or – well, she is not sure. A week ago, she would have very deliberately said, well, and what does a camp counselor make, anyway – I want to be a Bollywood actress, and glared him down out of spite. 

The last week really has been a lot of everything.

Anyway; she stares at him. Amidst her up-til-now very private spiraling.

Her mother her mother her mother her mother oh she is so known but so unknown oh they cannot love the same oh perhaps Nandini cannot love at all oh that must mean that must mean must it mean? that she, Nandini, well could she be broken is that what her mother sees surely she sees –

“I just – well. There’s the – the restroom is right there. So I’d come to …” And here Aditha stops his terribly uncomfortable and verging on comical awkward explanation, tilts his head – some immaterial spark of understanding happening in his sharp lovely eyes – and says, in an abortedly gruff tone that does very little to prevent what happens next,  “Nandini … are you – alright?”

Nandini, rather unexpectedly, begins blubbering. Loudly.

Her face crumples in on itself. Her shoulders hunch inward. Her nose gets snotty and her throat clogs up. And in general, she makes a very pathetic sort of hiccupy wailing noise, which she had not planned for.

“Shit,” says Aditha above her, after a moment of stunned silence. “Fuck, okay – Nandini? Well, you shouldn’t cry – come on, pull it together. The toilets are right there, look, someone’s even using them. Uh – well – alright, alright. It’s alright.”

None of his stammered, asinine condolences register much in Nandini’s ears. She is just very overwhelmed. It is only after a moment of her crying, sat on her rump outside the men’s toilets, that the stiff, chilly awkwardness of the night air changes, and there is a person quite suddenly beside her, and then not just beside her at all, but holding her – his arms carefully wrapped around her shoulders, his warm chest a perfect distance from her cheek, his large hands flattening clumsily over her back. Their knees bump together, and it isn’t very graceful at all – she refuses to move, so he must lean over ungainingly, and is probably quite uncomfortable doing it. 

Nandini cries into Aditha’s shoulder for five or ten minutes. He only pats her back stupidly once, at the start, and by the end of it, it is a proper embrace, and they are even rocking back and forth just a little.

It’s nice.

Presently, Nandini’s tears slow, and she registers the position she is in more properly. Whole-bodily, in fact. She had not expected that her body’s memory would slip back into this embrace so easily, and the realization is disquieting. She does not move, and Aditha does not move – she wonders if he is having the same panicked, wary thoughts – and so they sit in a stupid little impasse, hugging, for another two minutes. 

It’s getting to the point where she is noticing his cologne, so Nandini decides it is high time to pull herself together; she sits up, wiping at the snot on her face, and pretends her stomach is not in knots. A lopsided roll of toilet paper materializes in front of her nose. Oh – Aditha is holding it. She eyes it like a ticking bomb. It’s a bit squashed, like it was in his pocket. He must have brought it with him, earlier, which means he really did mean to use the bathroom, which means he hadn’t actually sought her out – 

Had he? He’s still holding her, sort of, and Nandini is terribly disoriented to realize that it is not an abhorrent sort of feeling, as she has very deliberately imagined it would be in the past, when hosting her more elaborate and vindictive daydreams in which she supposed they might reunite, not because she missed him badly but because she nursed ongoing fantasies of holy vengeance; all of those ended with her dumping a bucket of slop over his head. Instead, she has stopped feeling a decent measure of her earlier anxiety, and is breathing more normally now, and the rapidity of her thoughts have veered away from the breakneck pace of before. 

That could just be the crying. Her brother used to say that a tender weeping was good for one’s spirit. 

Nandini’s lip wobbles again; she misses Nambi, and is overwhelmed with a trickling feeling of shame – hadn’t she just left him, for so many months, and ignored all his overly-formal emails? 

The idea of emails makes her remember she has not sent a mildly threatening missive (subject line: I Know You Know Something About Mandakini Nolastname) from her ghost account to Sundura Chola in a while, and then that makes her think, well, it’s pointless now – her stalwart ally Arnunmozhi won’t have any reason to give her gently reproachful looks re: her long term haunting of his invalid father anymore – she’s found her mother – and then she is re-visited, very strongly, at once, by the dual reality of oh God her mother and oh God, Aditha is holding me.

Fuck, she needs to blow her nose.

“Here,” comes Aditha’s low voice, as though he’s read her mind. Which of course he hasn’t. But still. He tears off a piece of the toilet paper for her. Nandini trembles, and does not know whether she ought to lean in closer, or pull away entirely. She can feel his heartbeat against her shoulder, and while Nandini does not have a lot of experience with the biological sciences, it is beating rather more quickly than the average human heart ought to be.

“Oh,” she says, taking the tissue on autopilot. She dabs at her face, which must surely be smeared in kajol by now, and then her nose, which is probably ugly and red.

Good thing it’s so late at night.

After she’s done, because there doesn’t seem anything better to do – the alternative is getting up and fleeing, and Nandini is not a coward – she turns and stares at him.

Aditha clears his throat and scuffs one foot into the dirt at their feet, but he doesn’t look away. He’s grown a beard. She noticed this first thing last week. He never had one before.

“It’s just,” Nandini says, again on autopilot, “-- my mother.”

Ah, her mother. Poonghuzhali had demonstrated a very rare bout of tearful emotion and Arunmozhi his by now expected kindly friendship; Vandiyadevan had slipped her extra clementines after his grocery run and even Kundavai had been looking at her more gently than usual all afternoon. 

Until now, Aditha had been avoiding her. At her words his expression flickers, oddly, a shade of genuine concern colouring his face, before settling into something not quite effortless in its knowing but careful and gentle. She’d forgotten that he could look at her like that. It’s different now, just a little bit. The Look from before was more boyish, and the look now has a kind of sadness to it that makes it feel more real. Maybe it’s the beard. Unease fills her chest again, tenses up her hands. What must he be thinking? Why did he go about all day avoiding her? Alright, so she has also been avoiding him – all week now, to be sure – but – but –

“It must be really strange,” he says suddenly. His voice is deeper than before but not by much. She has not noticed this until right now, because they are sitting so closely and he is speaking quite softly. “Finding – finding someone who is so like you, all of a sudden.”

Whatever was on the verge of backflipping in the pit of Nandini’s stomach sours. Her chin trembles; she looks away. “I suppose.”

“Can’t really prepare for it, I guess.”

She sniffs. “I’ve been looking for months,” she says, more pointedly than perhaps she means. Looking does not equal preparation; the person she was in that Sri Lankan library was not entirely well, let alone prepared. Nandini is woman enough to acknowledge this. To herself, anyway. 

“It’s – it’s funny really,” he continues, deliberately gruff again, but not with the awkwardness of before; it’s more sincere now, roughened with honesty, yet in a way that is entirely oblivious to Nandini’s chin wobbles, “I can’t really understand what she’s saying half the time,” he rubs at his knee with one free hand, “but you know what I’ll tell you – I don’t think – well, I’ve never seen anyone with the same sort of sweetness in their face.” 

“As what,” croaks Nandini.

He looks at her strangely. Nightlife honks and buzzes past the dorm walls, cocooning them. “As you,” he says, like she is being stupid.

Nandini flushes deep from within. No – he must be lying. Hadn’t he called her a poisonous witch just last week? 

She supposes he must have meant that, but she knows Aditha well, and she knows when he is lying, even now – she has come to know, through many a painful altercation (the witch thing, and also she has threatened to kill him a few times) – and she resolves that whatever he meant last week, right now, he is also being honest. She feels somewhat dizzy. The urge to bolt is real. He, too, is looking a bit terrified, like maybe he did not exactly plan to say that in so many words, or maybe he had but now that it is out in the open he’s realizing it sounds a lot more – a lot more – than anticipated. 

“Have you really watched my show?” Nandini blurts out, more loudly than she means to. 

If Aditha’s eyes were wide already, they widen even further in alarm. This was a tidbit Vandiyadevan gave away two days ago; she thinks Aditha has still not forgiven him. He stammers,

“It was the only thing on TV,” with very little bravado. But then, before Nandini’s chest can deflate, as though shaking himself he says, more resolutely, “well, what was I supposed to do? That one scene of yours went viral on Twitter and the aunties at camp – who know very little about acting, may I add – just repeated what they read, blah blah blah like twittering little quails, but I am an educated person, Nandini, and a role model for children, and I have to investigate my news for myself –”

“Thank you for the tissue,” Nandini interrupts, because if she keeps her mouth occupied, then maybe that will quell its urge to spread into a large smile – maybe even emit a hysteric giggle or two – as if it’s forgotten that she only went into dead-end television acting in the first place because of the Veera Pandiyan scandal –

How much of that was really Aditha’s fault, though?

Nandini’s heart thumps rapidly. Now she’s really being crazy. Think of your mother again, girl. Go back to blubbering or something. Aditha blinks at her a few times. The light is pretty dim (they are lit from behind), but just enough that she can see the flush on his neck and ears. Have they been this close the whole time? 

“You – you were shivering when I got here,” he manages, instead of answering. “It’s kind of cold, isn’t it?”

Nandini is not shivering now. In fact, the place where his arm is still held against her back is so warm she thinks she could doze off in contentment just leaned up against him, if not for the fact that her stomach is doing gymnastics beneath the crop of her top. She nods anyway.

“I will be fine.”

“You should wear your jacket,” he says, roughly.

Nandini blinks. “Oh – no, I can’t. That’s yours.”

She isn’t looking for a reaction, per se; the words just sort of come out. She can very well see the bob of his throat, though, and the slight inhale he takes – his chest moves against her shoulder – before he says,

“Come on, Nandu, it was a gift.”

Nandini is overcome by a very strong urge to scream. Or swoon. If she had ever had reasons for wanting to kill him, she’s forgotten them just now. In fact it is very easy to forget the existence of everything around them – her lingering fragility about her mother, or the fact that they are right out in the wide open air, and there’s the real possibility that Kundavai of all bloody people will interrupt them. All these are things entirely immaterial, because unbidden her hand has moved up to press gently against Aditha’s chest, and she can clearly feel the rough pad of his thumb against the bare skin of her back, and they really are sitting so very close – a puff of his breath brushes against her cheek – and her heart goes thump thump thump thump so loudly she can’t really hear anything else.

His eyes have dropped to her mouth. “Nandini, love …” he starts, in a murmured, involuntary whisper.

Nandini tilts her head so very slightly closer …

Bang! 

If it is possible for two people to jump a foot apart while still being seated, Nandini and Aditha achieve this. Behind them, in the spilling light of the open bathroom door, lounges the person of Vandiyadevan, who is doing a very bad job at putting on suave and chill airs. Faintly, there is the sound of a toilet flushing behind him.

“No one could have guessed how badly this door sticks, eh?” he says loudly, holding up a roll of paper not unsimilar to Aditha’s. He tries and fails to adjust his footing, stumbling sideways a little into the door frame and then giving them both the finger guns. “Well! Beautiful night. Don’t mind me, carry on!”

“Vandiyadevan,” Aditha’s voice filters into her ears distantly, like it is coming from very far away. “How – long … have you been in there?”

“I was using the facilities! What, can’t a man take a piss after a long day’s honest espionage –? Ayyo! Wait, no, I promise I’m leaving!”

“That’s not the – we weren’t doing anything –!” Nandini hears Aditha splutter out in a strangled yell.

Which is just as well, too, because by the time he has turned back around, she is already gone, bangles clinking as she flees, scrambled away to hide behind the dark corner of the building’s edge, where stands frozen and with her eyes squeezed shut, while her errant, traitorous heart tries its damndest to beat right out of her chest.

[ri47]

[Q1-2024] A RI47 Heavy Industries Not-Quite Quarterly Report: The Power of Paranoid Thinking

So let's do a quick summary to avoid scaring anyone: Ri47's fine, Rin's (hello!) health isn't really any worse than it usually is, no major projects have been cancelled besides a standalone short story, we have a new mascot, and we're staring down the barrel of several simultaneous releases. 2024, god willing, if all goes to plan, is set to be a busy year... but a normal year.

That's it! You can scurry along now if that covered most of what you were curious about. It's rambles past here.

I promised I'd put something together like this, and since I've set aside the time today, when better to make some announcements and clarify some things going on under the bonnet. It's nothing especially massive, but radio silence felt less ideal as an indicator of the fact I'm hard at work

Without further ado, let's get into the thick of it

A New Face

You might have caught that there's a new face around here. The girl in the black hat is named Łucja (/ˈwu.t͡sja/) and she'll be taking over as the actual mascot for Ri47 Heavy Industries going forward!

There were a lot of motivations around making Łucja, but it can mostly be boiled down to wanting a design to represent the creative side of Ri47 which also doesn't appear as a character in any of the works proper. As much as Pagan is a dear character to me, she's just not an excellent mascot (or author mouthpiece, given that she's an awful person lmao)

She's entirely monochrome, she's got a distinct funny hat, and her outfit is partially stolen from a band I enjoy. Perfect.

Additionally, Łucja is entirely incapable of death, although it still doesn't feel great. It's probably best not to bother her with that sort of thing.

What's up with VesalBlood?

The next chapter of ALTERNE: Diesem Fernen Traum is nearing its release (about 80% done), so if you've been following that series, I hope that's welcome news!

VesalBlood's releases slowed down a bit in the final months of 2023 and the early months of 2024. I wish I could say it was because I was working on something more impressive, but the actual reason is that money is money and I needed to work on projects which produced that sort of thing

There is no actual hiatus on VesalBlood besides my usual glacial pace, but I'd be lying if I said that my work hasn't been eating into my ability to write at the pace I'd like. It's neither here nor there, but it simply is

In a perfect world, I'd probably devote all my time to finishing one long-term project at a time, but that's just not a viable way to be a working artist of my type under any economic system at the moment. The Kishar System setting survived the latter years of my schooling, so rest assured it's not going anywhere unless I go somewhere as well

There may be a few surprising announcements relating to VesalBlood coming at some point in the next few months, but there also might not. To keep a little transparency here, it largely depends on whether I get some calls back

What's up with Armored Blade Jetkaiser?

Armored Blade Jetkaiser continues apace, albeit I've had to delay it a bit as well, due to some surprise complications necessitating the reworking of some key aspects of the combat system

I'm still weighing whether I want to release the first pre-release editions without the dogfighting ruleset to get it out the door faster, but it feels like that'd be a bit of a betrayal. Maybe I'll put it up to a poll soon? Who knows.

At any rate, Armored Blade Jetkaiser is Armored Blade Jetkaiser, and that means it's a solo project that I'm working on in my second layer of free time (what I do after I do the things I do in my free time) so it was always bound to be a little extra slow

What's up with OMEN/CONSTANCE?

OMEN/CONSTANCE is coming. No delays are expected, because I didn't actually set a release date. At any rate, it's coming about as fast as expected!

It should be entering the final stage of work soon, since we're only a song or two short of release. Look forward to it! There might be a few surprises on this one

RI47? In My Project?

While I'm not at liberty to discuss the specifics of it quite yet, I'm going to be featuring on a few projects! Watch out! Or don't! I'll be here, regardless. I'll make a point of saying more once I can.

As it stands, the projects are game-related, and I don't have to actually make the games for once

Lovely! Lovely!!

Wrapping Up?

Mostly! Before I forget, I'll probably throw Chivalry Without Honour on Bandcamp as a single at some point in the next few days. If you enjoy that track, you can pick it up, probably!

Also, I've finally worked out the ideal portion of salt to cut the burnt taste from my instant coffee! I won't write it down here, because discovering that is an important (and personal!) milestone in every frugal caffeine addict's life, kinda like learning which brand of inexpensive vodka won't make you sick.

You've really gotta learn it for yourself! But it's worth it!

See you soon!

[itoshi-s]

the blurb u posted about the rin & sae-nii 3sum reminded me of your itoshi divide poll lol- that being said, sae 100% degrades in this scenario and rin praises, but do u think they’d switch up at any point? 👀 cuz I personally think sae degrades like 90% of the time but still praises if ur really really good for him & then rin def gives more praise, still will degrade once in a while tho <33

(also I send u asks often so might as well claim an emoji :3 -🪷)

blurb in question!

UH OH i think they def switch up sometimes!

sae is the embodiment of tough love, will lure you in until you can't help but give in to him. but barely a second later he's in your ear, telling you how fucked up it is of you to be enjoying this :( (as if he's not like 3 thrusts away from spilling himself lol make up ur mind boy!!!!) i like to think of him as a bit of brat tamer if you will?? you really wish you could be on ur best behavior for him, but he's so rough and mean with his actions alone - and all your whining grants you all the more demeaning words instead. sae rly does know how to put that sharp mouth of his to good use :,3 makes you believe that all this whining and whimpering isn't going to get you anywhere - but truly, there's nothing else that gets him harder !! that being said, he'd definitely switch up as soon as you're reaching your limit i think - and it usually comes right around when he's just about to finish, too, so he naturally gets a little vulnerable as well. he'll squeeze your face in his hand and give you all the sweetest kisses, mumbling out praises and calling you his best girl :( he presses his lips to your reddened cheeks, where his fingers dug just moments ago, and wipes every tear away. he really does love his imouto so, so much, even if the way he treats you might be telling a whole different story!! :,)

rin on the other hand naturally gravitates to giving praise simply because he truly wants to reward you for being so good, yk?? i think sae's def more dismissive about the whole.. thing going on between you two - he knows it's not right by any book, but doesn't pay it much mind - and rin is the opposite. he doesn't feel bad per se, either, don't get me wrong!!, but it's also exactly what gets him off so much at the very same time. the way you give yourself to him, despite all moralities and common sense.. :( maybe he's lying to himself, and you, too, when he tells you how good you are, so eager to please and solely focused on him and making him feel better than anyone else in the world ever could. either way, he doesn't rly care. he means all of that, he really does, so he speaks the honeyed words without any filter at all. he can be so rough with you, hands tight around your neck until you're wheezing, hips bruising yours for what seems like hours now, but he's still holding you so close, eyes full of stars and mouth spilling the heavenliest of praises :( rin can be a lot, really, so he has to make sure you know he's so, so proud of you for taking it so well :( one of the situations where i can see him switching completely is when you start to act up a little too much - shying away from his touches, snapping at him (as if it's not natural for siblings to do that ??), giving him attitude in general. even worse if it's around sae!!!!! WHEW. he CAN be mean, and you know it, yet it always takes you aback anyways. rin's very passionate in his touches alone, always rough and greedy with his actions and it's hard to take him like this already - so imagine how insufferable he is when upset or annoyed </3 honestly i can see him with an even fouler mouth than sae's if you push the wrong buttons. he can and will make you cry lol AND sneer at you when he sees the tears :( BONUS: that's when sae will also soften up for sure !!!! switch up his role and be the knight in shining armor instead. probably tells rin to slow down and go easier on you, cause c'mon, why are you so mean all of a sudden, rin? and it only makes things worse :,) now he's pissed off because of both of u. good luck taking it lol

[mydarlingdahlia]

*bangs fist on desk*

APPRECIATION TIME🗣️‼️

💝

Just thought I’d give a little shoutout to some of my mooties/some of my fav people ☺️

@meowzfordayz is literally an angel omg when I sent her an emergency request it went way above my expectations. (The OP writing skills? HELLO???) Also she’s so friendly omg like high key- MARRY ME 😩 /p

@xxsabitoxx is fucking hilarious. Her writing makes me giggle and twirl my hair and (sometimes) throw my phone across the room like I’m reading 2018 omega wattpad smut. Also she’s a bad bitch 😤 (love the thigh tat btw) and I would fight anyone on sight for her

@muzanswaifu literally makes me leap to my phone/laptop when I get a notification. Also watching you and May interact is fucking hilarious. AND YOU PROTECTED ME FROM AN ANON THAT WAS HARASSING ME??? Adopt me please

@bunny-n3zuk0 is one of the sweetest people I’ve met. Makes me physically and mentally smile whenever you interact with me. Like- how do I put it- (MARRY ME JULIET YOULL NEVER HAVE TO BE ALONE🎶)

@tomiokas-lunchbox is literally on my top ten kin list. I’m dead serious. (GIYUU STANS WHERR YALL AT??) also like everyone else needs to convert to Sanegiyuuism or else I’ll sacrifice you to my closet that needs cleaning

@renhoeku is…how do I put it? Amazing? Absolutely lovely? A fellow rengoku stan whom I want to marry who I want to be besties with? We can like simp for Rengoku together and like have tea and just read smut abt him like I’m down if you are

@akaza-dono-the-basketball is one of my lovely moots, who I adore interacting with. I mean just scrolling through your page at least once a day makes the sun shine a tad brighter. I literally have no words to explain my appreciation- so- 💖❣️💞💘💝💗❣️🩷

@pammyjammy117 was probably the reason I got the courage to make my own Demon Slayer OC. (ALL HAIL ENŪMA🛐) I love going on their live streams on TikTok, and I am absolutely in love with your OC. (I’m working on the Enūma and Monsterverse Kyo smut I promise 😔)

@thatonegenshinsimp is one of my lovely Genshin moots. ☺️ Got me going feral over Itto I swear to mf Jehovah himself after reading your writing I wish I could go back to like those old Gacha days and like be in one of those “whatever you say comes to life” vids so I could bring my bbg to life (and proceed to turn into the loud house)

@sweet-honey-fruit is one of my favorite writers for Genshin Impact characters! Omg that m’fing poll…I’m still going feral over it oml. 😭 Cant wait to see the finished product!! I’ll try to be like somewhat patient 🤷‍♀️

@moraxsthrone is literally so fucking talented. The way you write Zhongli makes me quiver in my boots (and makes something else quiver) Got me up at 2am in an iPad kid position with my horrid posture just scrolling through your page

@yeahitzally is also a literal angel. WHY ARE YOU SO NICE TO ME 😩. Lemme just- 🌹🌸💐💐🌺🌷🌻🪷🪻 Flowers for you my darling. :) I’m grateful to have you as a lovely moot. ^^ MWAH 😘

@peachdues is so talented that I almost didn’t believe it at first. Like okay Shakespeare you ate that! 💅 No but being fr your writing is so good like I’m jealous at this point. 🥲 (also a fellow Sanemi simp I SEE YOU 😏) Oh and if I’m bothering you too much just tell me 🫠

@knyesplease is one of my many lovely KNY mutuals. (Also shoutout to them go support their works!!) I love love love interacting with them, and I can’t wait to get to know them more! Also, thanks for being willing to help me out on my big KNY project. :)

Please DM me please and very much thank you if you want to be featured in this appreciation post. :) Always willing to add someone I may have missed. (But, keep in mind, if we’ve only interacted a handful of times like maybe once or twice, I might not add you.) Also this post was inspired by Meowz!

That’s all! Charlotte out.