#mothballed 2

[survive-object-poll-island]

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH <3 SOPI!!!!!!

[qbedience]

whiteboard doodles except its mostly just [title card] and black clover

bonus close up of yunos eye because i'm of firm belief we should draw stars in his eyes whilst he's in spirit dive

[sittingonfences]

The tempting thought to just call in sick tomorrow in order to stay home and watch the new andor season… I shall … resist … even if it’s not what cassian andor would do

[starseers-garden]

Meet Kitty Mothball, the official second member of the Moth warband! Kooky since she was a cub, she has always been regarded as weird and creepy by those around her. She’s mute and spends way too much time communicating with spirits (plenty of which were Ascalonian, given where she spent a lot of time at), which magic-hating Legion society didn’t super understand or appreciate. Likes wearing things over her head, like bags, buckets, sacks, and pots, among other things.

Because of her mutism, she was assumed to be stupid as a cub. Her peers would mock her, which she could indeed understand, but wasn’t bothered by. It’s really hard to tell what she’s thinking. She got her name, “Kitty,��� from her peers getting her attention by calling, “Here, kitty kitty kitty!” because what could be more demeaning than being referred to like a human’s pet cat?

[lonestarbattleship]

View of USS NORTH CAROLINA (BB-55), USS WASHINGTON (BB-56), USS GUAM (CB-2) and USS FRESNO (CL-121) or USS SPOKANE (CL-120) from the foremast of USS ALASKA (CB-1). They docked in Bayonne Navy Yard, New Jersey as part of the New York Group, Atlantic Reserve Fleet.

"Mothballed battleships laid up at Naval supply base, covered with protective metal bubbles."

Photographed by Herbert Gehr, LIFE Magazine on February 2, 1950.

LIFE Magazine Archives: 111458526, 111458531, 111458540, 111458541, 111458563, 11458538

[bodrewritten]

Daughter of Discord Rewritten Chapter 9.5: The Queen's Lullaby

Mothball is wracked with tremors in the face of his mother, Queen Chrysalis. Thickening fog burned through his muscles, passing through him and contaminating the blood into bile. Everything seemed so much larger than life in the hive.

Mothball knew nothing of screwball's compliance, that she knew he lied, that she expected to see him again.

"I feel sickly mother," He drooped down onto the trunk of a colossal broken tree, his bed. A maid tucked him into the bed he made every morning, performed her daily check up, and left promptly to report to the queen. She was queen supervising from the frame of the door.

"Hush, little one. You must be exhausted. Sleep, little Mothball. Let your dreams take wing. One day when you're big and strong...

You will be a king."

Chrysalis stood above his bed, behind his frame, empty and demanding.

"Tomorrow, your training intensifies."

And with that, she strolled from the room of the prince. Replacing her, a shadow of her might.

Mantis approached the boy with scowling eyes, the tops hidden by a brow dipping into a pool of disdain.

"mother has ordered you to train under my command for the remainder of your lessons. I understand how easy it is for you to make your mentors look foolishly incompetent with your ineptitude. But trust me when I declare, I will break you until you make mother proud. Of both of us."

Mothball could only stare as tears fell from his sunken, downturned eyes. Mantis sighed and smirked, as if every tear that fell was like eating premium love.

"maybe you cannot be saved. I always was mother's favorite for a reason."

With that, Mantis followed the Mare's steps.

Chrysalis scowled and seethed with every step into the darkness of the hollow hive.

"I've been exiled, persecuted, Left alone with no defense.

When I think of what that brute did, I get a little tense.

But I dream a dream so pretty, That I don't feel so depressed. 'Cause it soothes my inner kitty And it helps me get some rest"

"The sound of Discord's dying gasp!"

His daughter squealing in my grasp!

His darling wife's mournful cry!

That's my lullaby!"

Chrysalis climbed the steps to her throne, covered in gems stolen from rulers long gone by the hooves of her lineage.

"Now the past I've tried forgetting, And my foes I could forgive

Trouble is, I know it's petty, But I hate to let them live."

Mantis, attached to her haunches as always, stood beside the queen.

"So you found yourself somebody Who'd chase Discord up a tree?"

"Oh, the battle may be bloody But that kind of works for me...

The melody of angry growls!

A counterpoint of painful howls!

A symphony of death, oh my!

That's my lullaby"

Mantis looked towards the sleeping prince's room. How could all this come from such a disgusting little maggot?

"Sleep, you little termite!

Uh-- I mean, precious little thing!

One day when you're big and strong..."

"You will be a king!"

The pounding of the drums of war!

The thrill of Mothball's mighty roar!"

"The joy of vengeance! Testify!"

"I can hear the cheering drown the cries...

Payback time is nearing, And then our flag will fly,

Up against a blood-red sky!

That's...my... LULLABY!!"

[she-who-fights-and-writes]

“Show, Don’t Tell”…But This Time Someone Explains It

If you’ve ever been on the hunt for writing advice, you've definitely seen the phrase “Show, Don’t Tell.”

Writeblr coughs up these three words on the daily; it’s often considered the “Golden Rule” of writing. However, many posts don't provide an in-depth explanation about what this "Golden Rule" means (This is most likely to save time, and under the assumption that viewers are already informed).

More dangerously, some posts fail to explain that “Show, Don’t Tell” occasionally doesn’t apply in certain contexts, toeing a dangerous line by issuing a blanket statement to every writing situation. 

The thing to take away from this is: “Show, Don’t Tell” is an essential tool for more immersive writing, but don't feel like a bad writer if you can’t make it work in every scenario (or if you can’t get the hang of it!)

1. What Does "Show, Don't Tell" Even Mean?

“Show, Don’t Tell” is a writing technique in which the narrative or a character’s feelings are related through sensory details rather than exposition. Instead of telling the reader what is happening, the reader infers what is happening due to the clues they’ve been shown.

EXAMPLE 1:

Telling: The room was very cold. Showing: She shivered as she stepped into the room, her breath steaming in the air.

EXAMPLE 2:

Telling: He was furious. Showing: He grabbed the nearest book and hurled it against the wall, his teeth bared and his eyes blazing.

EXAMPLE 3 ("SHOW, DON'T TELL" DOESN'T HAVE TO MEAN "WRITE A LOT MORE")

Telling: The room hadn't been lived in for a very long time. Showing: She shoved the door open with a spray of dust.

Although the “showing” sentences don’t explicitly state how the characters felt, you as the reader use context clues to form an interpretation; it provides information in an indirect way, rather than a direct one.

Because of this, “Show, Don’t Tell” is an incredibly immersive way to write; readers formulate conclusions alongside the characters, as if they were experiencing the story for themselves instead of spectating. 

As you have probably guessed, “showing” can require a lot more words (as well as patience and effort). It’s a skill that has to be practiced and improved, so don’t feel discouraged if you have trouble getting it on the first try!

2. How Do I Use “Show, Don’t Tell” ?

There are no foolproof parameters about where you “show” and not “tell" or vice versa; it’s more of a writing habit that you develop rather than something that you selectively decide to employ.

In actuality, most stories are a blend of both showing and telling, and more experienced writers instinctively switch between one and another to cater to their narrative needs. You need to find a good balance of both in order to create a narrative that is both immersive and engaging.

i. Help When Your Writing Feels Bare-Bones/Soulless/Boring

Your writing is just not what you’ve pictured in your head, no matter how much you do it over. Conversations are stilted. The characters are flat. The sentences don’t flow as well as they do in the books you've read. What’s missing?

It’s possibly because you’ve been “telling” your audience everything and not “showing”! If a reader's mind is not exercised (i.e. they're being "spoon-fed" all of the details), your writing may feel boring or uninspired!

Instead of saying that a room was old and dingy, maybe describe the peeling wallpaper. The cobwebs in the corners. The smell of dust and old mothballs. Write down what you see in your mind's eye, and allow your audience to formulate their own interpretations from that. (Scroll for a more in-depth explanation on HOW to develop this skill!)

ii. Add More Depth and Emotion to Your Scenes

Because "Show, Don't Tell" is a more immersive way of writing, a reader is going to feel the narrative beats of your story a lot more deeply when this rule is utilized.

Describing how a character has fallen to their knees sobbing and tearing our their hair is going to strike a reader's heart more than saying: "They were devastated."

Describing blood trickling through a character's fingers and staining their clothes will seem more dire than saying: "They were gravely wounded."

iii. Understand that Sometimes Telling Can Fit Your Story Better

Telling can be a great way to show your characters' personalities, especially when it comes to first-person or narrator-driven stories. Below, I've listed a few examples; however, this list isn't exclusive or comprehensive!

Initial Impressions and Character Opinions

If a character describes someone's outfit as "gaudy" or a room as "absolutely disgusting," it can pack more of a punch about their initial impression, rather than describing the way that they react (and can save you some words!). In addition, it can provide some interesting juxtaposition (i.e. when a character describes a dog as "hideous" despite telling their friend it looks cute).

2. Tone and Reader Opinions

Piggybacking off of the first point, you can "tell, not show" when you want to be certain about how a reader is supposed to feel about something. "Showing" revolves around readers drawing their own conclusions, so if you want to make sure that every reader draws the same conclusion, "telling" can be more useful! For example, if you describe a character's outfit as being a turquoise jacket with zebra-patterned pants, some readers may be like "Ok yeah a 2010 Justice-core girlie is slaying!" But if you want the outfit to come across as badly arranged, using a "telling" word like "ridiculous" or "gaudy" can help set the stage.

3. Pacing

"Show, don't tell" can often take more words; after all, describing a character's reaction is more complicated than stating how they're feeling. If your story calls for readers to be focused more on the action than the details, such as a fight or chase scene, sometimes "telling" can serve you better than "showing." A lot of writers have dedicated themselves to the rule "tell action, show emotion," but don't feel like you have to restrict yourself to one or the other.

iv. ABOVE ALL ELSE: Getting Words on the Page is More Important!

If you’re stuck on a section of your story and just can’t find it in yourself to write poetic, flowing prose, getting words on the paper is more important than writing something that’s “good.” If you want to be able to come back and fix it later, put your writing in brackets that you can Ctrl + F later.

Keeping your momentum is the hardest part of writing. Don't sacrifice your inspiration in favor of following rules!

3. How Can I Get Better at “Show, Don’t Tell”?

i. Use the Five Senses, and Immerse Yourself!

Imagine you’re the protagonist, standing in the scene that you have just created. Think of the setting. What are things about the space that you’d notice, if you were the one in your character’s shoes?

Smell? Hear? See? Touch? Taste?

Sight and sound are the senses that writers most often use, but don’t discount the importance of smell and taste! Smell is the most evocative sense, triggering memories and emotions the moment someone walks into the room and has registered what is going on inside—don’t take it for granted. And even if your character isn’t eating, there are some things that can be “tasted” in the air.

EXAMPLE:

TELLING: She walked into the room and felt disgusted. It smelled, and it was dirty and slightly creepy. She wished she could leave. SHOWING: She shuffled into the room, wrinkling her nose as she stepped over a suspicious stain on the carpet. The blankets on the bed were moth-bitten and yellowed, and the flowery wallpaper had peeled in places to reveal a layer of blood-red paint beneath…like torn cuticles. The stench of cigarettes and mildew permeated the air. “How long are we staying here again?” she asked, flinching as the door squealed shut. 

The “showing” excerpt gives more of an idea about how the room looks, and how the protagonist perceives it. However, something briefer may be more suited for writers who are not looking to break the momentum in their story. (I.e. if the character was CHASED into this room and doesn’t have time to take in the details.)

ii. Study Movies and TV Shows: Think like a Storyteller, Not Just a Writer

Movies and TV shows quite literally HAVE TO "show, and not tell." This is because there is often no inner monologue or narrator telling the viewers what's happening. As a filmmaker, you need to use your limited time wisely, and make sure that the audience is engaged.

Think about how boring it would be if a movie consisted solely of a character monologuing about what they think and feel, rather than having the actor ACT what they feel.

(Tangent, but there’s also been controversy that this exposition/“telling” mindset in current screenwriting marks a downfall of media literacy. Examples include the new Percy Jackson and Avatar: The Last Airbender remakes that have been criticized for info-dumping dialogue instead of “showing.”)

If you find it easy to envision things in your head, imagine how your scene would look in a movie. What is the lighting like? What are the subtle expressions flitting across the actors' faces, letting you know just how they're feeling? Is there any droning background noise that sets the tone-- like traffic outside, rain, or an air conditioner?

How do the actors convey things that can't be experienced through a screen, like smell and taste?

Write exactly what you see in your mind's eye, instead of explaining it with a degree of separation to your readers.

iii. Listen to Music

I find that because music evokes emotion, it helps you write with more passion—feelings instead of facts! It’s also slightly distracting, so if you’re writing while caught up in the music, it might free you from the rigid boundaries you’ve put in place for yourself.

Here’s a link to my master list of instrumental writing playlists!

iv. Practice, Practice, Practice! And Take Inspiration from Others!

“Show Don’t Tell” is the core of an immersive scene, and requires tons of writing skills cultivated through repeated exposure. Like I said before, more experienced writers instinctively switch between showing and telling as they write— but it’s a muscle that needs to be constantly exercised!

If I haven’t written in a while and need to get back into the flow of things, I take a look at a writing prompt, and try cultivating a scene that is as immersive as possible! Working on your “Show, Don’t Tell” skills by practicing writing short, fun one-shots can be much less restrictive than a lengthier work.

In addition, get some inspiration and study from reading the works of others, whether it be a fanfiction or published novel!

If you need some extra help, feel free to check out my Master List of Writing Tips and Advice, which features links to all of my best posts, each of them categorized !

Hope this helped, and happy writing!

[cherrycranes]

Boy Next Door (Michael McCrea x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Michael McCrea x Fem!Reader Summary: You're in a gross, shady motel with your neighbor and best friend, Michael, during a road trip. There's only one bed and lots of feelings about to be confessed. Word count: 4,144 Contents: (Minors DNI). Unprotected sex, praise, ass & pussy eating, cream pie, eating cream pie. Author's notes: Sorry for taking so long, but finally, here's our underrated scrawny man in another collab with @fuckiingloser. Mandatory "english is not my first language" disclaimer. Stan Michael McCrea.

Serene darkness, cut through by the persistent headlights, enveloped the car as you made your way through the Irish highway. The Cranberries played ever so quietly from the stereo, barely filling the silence between you and Michael. You were halfway through a road trip made unnecessarily long due to roadwork, and evidently, you both were exhausted.

Michael was your friend and next door neighbor back home in the crappy Dublin apartment building, and he was a total sweetheart despite the life he had. The kind of guy who would drop anything he was doing if you needed help or a favor. Always there whenever you needed him.

Naturally, it was no surprise that now he was driving you to the funeral of an old friend of yours in the south. You didn't have a license or a car, and before you could think of other means of transportation, Michael had already jumped at the chance to drive you there himself.

“Gettin’ kinda tired…” He admitted to you, pulling you from your sleepy trance of staring out the window, watching the world go by. 

“And these roads are so dark… foggy... Maybe we should stop and get motel rooms for the night? Leave early tomorrow morning?” He continued, briefly turning to look at you just in time to catch your smile and nod.

“Yeah, I'm pretty beat too, I'd love to sleep in a real bed and not sitting up straight… The service isn’t until 3 pm tomorrow, so we should be good if we leave early…” You answered, much to his delight.

Not 15 minutes passed when a roadside motel appeared in the distance, less than luxurious and completely in the middle of nowhere. You couldn't afford to get picky.

Inside, it was more of a ruin than anything; stained carpet, broken leather on all the chairs that must be older than Michael and you, and an ancient black and white TV playing reruns of the Andy Griffith show. A shock this place forgotten by God was still functional.

Michael, always the gentleman, took the lead, heading up the counter with you trailing behind. The old receptionist finally looked up from behind his newspaper with a creepy, assuming smile, making your stomach turn a bit.

“We’d like 2 rooms please…” Michael was immediately cut off by the old man.

“No can do… only have one queen bedroom available for the night…” The old man croaked, looking at the two of you.

“Let’s just keep driving till we find another place…” You whispered in Michael’s ear, all weirded out and frankly disgusted by this place, when, once again, the old man chimed in before Michael could speak.

“No more lodging for at least 30 kilometers…” He said with his scratchy, creepy voice. “You want the room or not?”  

Defeated and tired, you sighed and looked at Michael, nodding.

“We’ll take it…” And with that, your fate was sealed. Michael paid for the room and helped you bring your bag upstairs. 

The smell of musty mothballs immediately greeted you both the moment he opened the door. Michael made sure to lock and deadbolt the room behind you, doing his best to protect you. 

You stood in there for a second, taking in what was supposed to be your sleeping quarters for the night. Cigarette burns in the carpet, a dingy mattress with a yellowish grandma blanket, and barely furnished.

“Oh my god, there’s not even a TV… What are we supposed to do all night?” You exclaimed with a slight laugh of disbelief, this really had to be your only option for the night.

Michael laughed back, setting down his bag and looking over the miserable room you now had to share. There was not even a couch for one of you to sleep on, just a questionable queen-sized bed that would make you sleep side by side.

“At least there’s a radio…” He walked over to it and turned it on, some pop song starting to play quietly beneath a slight static hum. 

“And… I’ve got a pack of cards and a bottle of vodka…” He added with a sly smile, showing you the bottle from the confines of his bag and making you crack a smile. He always knew how to do it.

“Sounds good to me… You always come prepared.” You laughed. “Let me change into my pjs and then we get to me kicking your ass at cards…” You gave him a playful wink and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving him alone with his thoughts and racing heart.

You were clueless about this, but Michael had the biggest crush on you since you became his next-door neighbor almost 2 years ago. Matter of fact, he was whipped for you. And he had been too stupid and shy to say anything. 

Perhaps he didn't feel worthy of you, perhaps he was just waiting for the right moment; either way, he was always there for you. A shoulder for you to cry on after every failed relationship or talking stage with other guys, a helping hand with anything you needed; hell, he was even here because of you. And the closest he had gotten to you? Nearly kissed you once about a year ago. Nearly. 

That time, he was comforting you after an idiot dumped you. He had brought drinks and takeout and held you on your couch as you cried. Your tearful eyes met his, he gently rubbed your back, and you both leaned in, and that's when his phone went off.

After that night, nothing else happened but a few playfully flirty comments every once on a while, and it was killing him slowly.

In his eyes, you were perfect. Sweet, kind, funny, so beautiful… All he ever wanted to do was worship every bit of you, show you how you should be treated… But he couldn't work himself up enough to ever say it. Or do it. 

He couldn’t believe his luck tonight. Sure, you were in a shady, gross motel, but at least you were together. All alone with only one bed. It was too good, too perfect for Michael, as if the stars had aligned and had finally given him that chance. It was up to him to take it.

You pulled him out of his thoughts when you finally came out of the bathroom, a simple pair of cotton sleep shorts and a t-shirt covering you up. It sounded cliché, but Michael truly did love you like this, so natural.

“I was thinking about showering, but that tub is absolutely foul… So sorry if I stink, but I'm not taking my chances there." You announced with a laugh, making him chuckle and shake his head.

“You? Stink? Never… you’re always perfect…” He replied, perhaps getting carried away in between his playful tone, but even then, you could feel the slightest fluttering of butterfly wings in your stomach. 

You set down your things before jumping on top of the bed, sitting across from him as he took off his hoodie.

“Let's crack that thing open and get to it!” You smiled, looking at the bottle in his hands. With a nod, Michael opened and took a big swig right before handing it to you. The bitter plain vodka burned your throat and made you scrunch up your face, much to his amusement.

“Delicious, right?” He teased, his cockiness making you take a second swig.

“The only way I'll be able to sleep in this dump is if I'm a little tipsy, so I'll ignore the taste…” You handed him the bottle bac,k and he took another big sip himself, much more used to the bitter taste than you.

Sip by sip, you took turns with the vodka, completely forgetting about the playing cards in favor of conversation. A half hour passed, and half the bottle was gone too, making you finally tipsy enough to tolerate this seedy place. You both laid back on the bed, staring in silence at the ceiling that had definitely seen better days eons ago. The radio still played despite the slight static and enveloped you in the soft, easily digestible ballad of the moment.

There was no awkwardness to be found between you, only peace. At least from your point of view. In Michael's, it was all a big racing mess. He thought and mentally rehearsed everything he ever wanted to say to you, but never dared to. All the things he wanted to do but never did.

He fought with himself for a few minutes before finally making up his mind. Now or never.

Gently, Michael moved to lie on his side, facing you, his pale blue eyes roaming over your body the way he wished his hands could. From the soft exposed skin of your thighs, to your breasts under your t-shirt that moved up and down with your breathing, and finally, to your beautiful face.

You took notice, turning to look at him with a shy smile

“What are you looking at?” You asked softly, eyes connecting with his pretty blue ones. “Do I have something on my face?” 

Michael laughed and shook his head.

“No, no nothing like that… you’re just beautiful…” He whispered, and your brow furrowed a bit at his words. You knew him well, he was sweet. This should not have come as a surprise to you, but there was something about him tonight. Something different. More intimate.

You smiled, shyness creeping up on you.

“You think?” You whispered in hopes of hearing him say it again. Michael nodded, his calloused hand coming up to touch your cheek so softly.

“I've always thought you were the most beautiful girl… Always thought you deserved better than those losers who treat you like shit… A girl like you deserves to be worshipped…” his voice was soft, devotional, a tone reserved only for the most fervent of prayers. 

For a second, Michael couldn't believe he had said it, nervousness started to bubble up inside his chest when he took in your reaction, your mouth had fallen open a bit, your eyes widened, and, something that he did not see but you felt in its entirety, your pussy fluttered to life inside your shorts.

“Worshipped?” You whispered back, your tipsy brain spinning, trying to understand what he insinuated.

Michael smirked a little, easing up and ultimately getting brave.

“I’ve liked you for a long time… just never had the balls to say till tonight…” He confessed, his hand moving from your cheek down to the little stripe of skin showing on your stomach between your t-shirt and your shorts. He let his fingers dance over the skin lightly, giving you all the chances to reject his touch if you did not want it.

But you did want it. You almost moaned at the light tickle, your panties dampened as you turned to look at the ceiling, trying to process what was happening.

“You know how many times I've jerked off thinking about this perfect body?” Michael leaned in to purr right into your ear, and your breath hitched. The feeling of his stubble nearly tickling the sensitive skin and his fingertips tracing over your stomach right above the waistband of your shorts, making you weak.

“How many?” You whispered, so turned on you could barely think straight. 

“Too many times to count…” Michael answered before placing a few soft kisses on your sensitive neck. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you moaned at the feeling.

“Thought about eating your sweet cunt… and your little ass…” He whispered against your neck. “Making you come over and over…” 

For a moment, your brain had an alcohol-induced short circuit, you got lost inside those perfect blue eyes, and all words failed you. You jumped from his eyes to his pink lips, and as if he could read your mind, he leaned in, your lips locking in a hot, searing kiss that quickly turned into you devouring each other.

Tongues tangled against each other, and his hand buried itself in your hair, holding you close as you rolled around the creaking motel bed together.

His mind was spinning, he couldn't believe his luck. He couldn't believe this was real. All that time pining after you in secret, wishing for you… And now you were here, in his arms. He pulled back, panting, just to look into your eyes and take it all in. 

“God, you have no idea how long I've been waiting for that…” He whispered, coaxing a smile from you. His cute eagerness, his desire, was driving you wild.

“Hopefully, you want to do more than just kiss me…” You purred back, your arousal talking. You played with the hairs at the back of his neck, watching his eyes widen a bit as a smirk crept across his face.

“Oh, I'm just getting started…” He practically purred to you with a husky voice, anticipation biting at you.

Gently, Michael pulled back from you, raising to kneel between your legs and hooking his fingers onto the elastic band of your sleep shorts. Little by little, he pulled them off you until they flung to the ground.

“Wow…” His pale blue eyes widened when he was met with your bare pussy right away. Wet, tempting, and breathtaking.

“No panties under your shorts? Naughty girl…” He pretended to chastise you, and it made you giggle. “It's like you wanted me to eat your pussy…” His tongue came out to wet his lips, already savoring you. He lowered himself to lie between your legs, his head between your soft thighs.

“Mike… I haven't showered…” You whispered, insecurity making its way to you despite how much you wanted this. His blue eyes met yours, and he gave you a big smirk, his fingertips tickling your inner thighs.

“Do you really think that’s gonna turn me off or stop me?” He purred shamelessly and immediately dived in to lick a fat, greedy stripe between your folds and towards your clit.

You moaned loudly at the feeling, all your nerves and insecurities going out the window in an instant. He hummed at your taste, briefly pulling away just to praise you.

“Jesus Christ, you taste like heaven…” He practically moaned before diving back in for more.

Hungrily, his hot tongue explored every inch and crevice of your sweet cunt. You grabbed a handful of his dark hair with gentleness, steadying yourself as he devoured you. When your thighs made the slightest movement to close from how overwhelming this was becoming, Michael pushed them further apart, making more room for him and his talented tongue. He swirled the tip all over your entrance before letting it slip inside you, fucking you so good you nearly saw the face of God.

“Oh fuck- if you keep going i’m gonna come…” You cried out, head swirling with pleasure. A strong orgasm loomed closer and faster than expected, and it made his chest swell up with pride. He hummed in acknowledgement but never once stopped. 

He gave you lick after lick around your folds before pulling away to look up at you, his lips and chin glistening with your slickness.

“I could eat your pussy for hours… but I want you to come on my cock…” He wiped you off his mouth with the back of his hand before sliding off the bed and grabbing his wallet off the side table, opening it, and pulling out a condom.

“Knew this could come in handy someday…”  He said with a rather adorable smile, standing to kick his pants off him, his raging hard cock pressing tightly against his briefs all thanks to you. You bit your lip in anticipation as he crawled onto the bed, kneeling between your parted legs once more.

However, before he could tear up the condom wrapper, he inspected it, finding it worn down and clearly old. His face fell a bit in disappointment.

“What's wrong?” You asked in concern. 

“Fuck, it says it expired a year ago…” Michael looked at you, worried that this whole thing was now ruined. Calmly and endeared by the look in his eyes, you took it out of his hands and inspected the foil package before tossing it to the ground.

“It’s okay, I'm on the pill… we don’t need one…” You assured him with a cheeky smile, nearly taking the air out of his lungs. Nothing, absolutely nothing would ever prevent you from fucking this man.

“Thank fuck…” He breathed a sigh of relief and gratitude, not wasting any more seconds, and scooting closer to you. He pulled his briefs down and let his cock spring free for your eyes to feast on.

You couldn't help but bite your lip, it was bigger than what you assumed, and if how he eats pussy was any indication of how he fucked… You were in for a real treat.

He took his cock in his hand, slowly rubbing his already aching tip up and down your wet folds groaning slightly at the feeling. 

“God, I've wanted you for so long…” he whispered to you, teasing you with the head of his cock, your heart pounding in your chest, anticipation coursing through every vein in your body.

He looked into your eyes, his pupils widening from pure lust.

“Ready?” He whispered, so sweet and caring he was, even during the middle of your drunken, whirlwind revelation of wanting to jump each other's bones right here and now.

His eyes fell from yours back down to his cock between his legs, perfectly lined up at your entrance. You let out a sigh of relief mixed with a moan and he moved his hips forward, pushing the tip inside your warm, wet and perfectly tight pussy that was the only heaven Michael had ever known.

You moaned, your hand reaching up to hold onto his forearm for support, just like he did with your hips. He pushed deeper, slowly however, allowing you to adjust for a second despite what his hard cock urged him to do, he truly did want to fuck you hard and fast like an animal in heat, and it was taking all his willpower to remain gentle.

After a minute, his restraint broke a little, and he started to move, his hips picking up speed. He was well aware that he wouldn't last long, not when he was balls deep inside the girl of his dreams. It would be a miracle if he lasted 10 minutes inside you.

“You feel so fucking good love…” He groaned to you, looking down at the beautiful sight of you with your mouth hanging open and letting out sweet moans. He watched your tits bounce underneath your t-shirt at every thrust, nearly hypnotized.

He leaned back over, chest to chest with you again. His lips found yours once more for a sloppy, hot makeout, his clumsy thrusts filling the dreary motel room with slapping sounds.

You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him closer, making him groan loudly into your mouth. Your nails clawed through his t-shirt, mixing pain with the best pleasure he has ever felt in his life, your tight little pussy.

Michael broke the kiss with a shortness of breath, his hips never stopped despite how sloppily and hard they moved. The tip of his cock hit your g-spot again and again.

“I’m gonna come…” He whimpered, his orgasm building deep inside him faster than he thought it would.

His thumb reached between your moving bodies to rub much needed circles on your clit, hoping to God he’ll make you finish before him. Your pussy fluttered, dangerously trying to milk him for all he's worth.

“Come for me… come inside me…” You begged him with a loud, whiney moan. His eyes widened in a pleasant shock, his brain malfunctioned for a bit. He had never dreamed of being in this position, much less have the girl he loved in secret begging for him to come inside of her. 

“Oh- fuck-really?” He panted in disbelief, praying that his ears hadn't fooled him and that it was what you truly wanted. You nodded repeatedly, moans spilling from your pretty mouth and your eyes squeezing shut. 

Michael fucked you harder, rubbing your clit much faster as your body began to feel that familiar buzz of a pending orgasm inside you.

“Oh my god- i-i can’t hold it…” He whined. “Come with me please…” and as if on command… You did. Hard. Your back arched off the bed against him, your clothed tits pressing against his chest. You moaned much louder than ever, your pussy fluttered around his cock so tightly it was game over for him.

“Jesus Christ- I'm coming…” He moaned almost in disbelief. You felt so good; your orgasm, your face contorted in pleasure, everything about you made his sloppy thrusts slow and his cock twitch as he filled you, looking deeply into your eyes.

‘Passionate’ was not enough to describe it, ‘intense’ wouldn't even come close. It was incredibly unique, too good to share something this intimate for the first time ever. You both laid there for a minute, collecting your breath together, he still nested inside. 

Silence took over for a little while until he finally pulled out, pulling back to his knees to look. His eyes widened a bit and his breath hitched watching his cum leaking slowly out of you.

“How does it look?” You asked softly, noting just how fixated his eyes were on your dripping pussy.

“Perfect… fucking perfect…” He whispered hungrily, you watched his eyes darken a bit before he did something you could have never expected.

His big hands pushed your thighs up against your chest, giving him the perfect view. He quickly leaned in and let his tongue lick a fat stripe over your dripping pussy, catching his own cum mixed with yours on his tongue, moaning loudly against you at the taste. 

“Oh my God… Mike…” You whimpered in disbelief, hand going straight to his soft brown hair again to grab a fistful. His tongue eagerly slid into your entrance, circling it with the pointy tip and making you moan over and over again like a bitch in heat. 

He ate you like a starving man… And in a sense, he was. This had been his dream for a year, being with you in every way possible, and now he wouldn't let any time go to waste.

Michael groaned against you, tasting you both on his eager tongue. He licked lower and lower until he was down at your asshole. He painted a fat stripe of saliva from your ass all the way up to your clit then back down again a few times, bringing heaven down on you. 

“Fuck...” You whimpered breathlessly, still trying to process it all. His tongue circled your asshole, pleasure flooding your brain when he pushed inside. He hummed happily against you, completely satisfied at the little string of moans you let out for him.

He pulled back for a second just to catch his breath then dove right back in, now licking your pussy. His tongue swiped over and between your soft folds, making sure to clean up all the mess you made together.

It was all too good, he had to force himself to pull away for good after a few minutes. He would honestly eat your pussy forever if you let him. 

As he pulled back to his knees, he admired you; so beautiful and perfectly spent. You both panted, trying to concoct the correct words in your brain to describe just how it was.

“Wow… that was just… wow…” You whispered, trailing off a bit with a small grin playing at the corner of your lips.

His hands found their way to your thighs, rubbing them. He smiled, watching you stumble over your words, brain still fuzzy and reeling.

You sat in there, quiet, the dingy motel room mattress supporting you as you looked at each other. Finally, his fingertips glided over the soft skin of your inner thigh.

“Still just friends?” He asked with that little familiar glimmer in his eyes, full of hope that you wanted more just like he did, and that this wasn’t just a one time thing that happened by chance in some shitty motel.

At that moment, it finally clicked… And you just didn't know how you had never seen it before. Michael, your friend who did everything for you. The guy who made you laugh and was always a shoulder to cry on whenever you needed someone. It was always him. Right in front of you the entire time. The boy next door. 

You giggled a little and shook your head no.

“Of course not just friends… just no more creepy motels…deal?” You teased him, and he chuckled in agreement.

“Deal.” 

Pinterest board for envisioning purposes!

[soulxsteal]

"Hey, Rabbit, isn't the moon beautiful?"

No, too cheesy. Kzinssie scratched that idea immediately. Besides, the way she froze like a statue out of the corner of his eye suggested that a moonlit walk wasn't exactly her idea of fun right now-- no matter how nice and full the moon hung against the wintry sky. It really was a nostalgic view, though. Something about it tugged at him, an empty pang in his chest, like a memory that had long since slipped from his grasp.

Well. If she didn want to sleep, or walk, then maybe they could… uh. What? He'd already spun her every exaggerated tale he could come up with about himself. What was left to talk about? Maybe they could go find that old innkeeper with the twitchy eye and demand a midnight snack. Yeah, that sounded like a solid plan.

Too bad Bokhohn somehow managed to interrupt his date idea without even being here.

Kzinssie froze, staring at her faint reflection in the glass. He hoped to every force in the universe that she couldn't see his horrified expression in the pane.

"Bokhohn said that?"

His voice wavered. He clutched at the curtain as though it might save him, praying futilely for the ground to swallow him whole. Except, if that actually happened, they'd both be swallowed, and he'd still have to face this conversation.

"...KAHAHA, that old geezer!" he laughed, loud and sharp and completely forced, "You know, he's practically ten thousand years old. An antique even before he begged his way into the Seven Heroes." He turned to her, still gripping the curtain like a lifeline. "He's always spouting some weird, cryptic nonsense, y'know? Comes with being so ancient, I guess. Stuff like Wagnas turning into some hot lady, or Subier becoming a whale…"

Really, Kzinssie? That's the example you go with?

"Haha, imagine!" he went on clutching at every straw, tone climbing an octave as the panic seeped into his voice. "Me, turning into a giant, terrifying worm-- with razor sharp teeth and claws and a cape! That'd be STUPID! KAHAHA--!"

The laugh that followed was as awkward and strained as his grip on the curtain, which he had to fight not to pull into his trademark over the face pose. And, for once, he couldn't tell if she was buying it or just silently digging his grave.

[[ @soulxsteal ]]

Fussy was one way to describe her today. Ever since her conversation with Bokhohn, Rabbit was preparing for this day, well, night in particular. She made sure to ask the Inn Keeper that no one would bother Kzinssie tonight, even if strange sounds come from his room... to which he gave her a very unsure nod, asking her further if Cat knows.

Thankfully Cat was away to check on some other tower with someone else, which Rabbit had hurried to inform the Inn Keeper about as well. But that only made him look even more surprised. "Well, good luck."

Rabbit nodded, unsure why she'd need luck or why was the Inn Keeper winking at her. It was Lord Kzinssie turning into a worm tonight, not her!

And so her mental to-do list was all checked. No unwelcomed guests tonight to accidentally step on him, a little bed made out of matchbox and tuft of feathers tucked into her pocket and her own resolve to make sure he stays inside and away from any birds who may decide he is a very delicious late night snack.

And so the hours rolled. And he started to find her presence awkward or so she thought. "Err, don't worry about me, Lord Kzinssie!" Rabbit hopped off her own chair and waved hands dismissively, "I don't....really sleep much at night, if at all." There was a note of hesitation there. "The night is for walks and work. It's much more safe than in the day anyway cause everyone is asleep!" She added with a small grin as if her logic was flawless here.

But she walked right into a corner with that one. Kzinssie pulled the curtain revealing the full moon and urged her for a walk outside. But she couldn't answer that right away. Her favorite hero was within his element right now, exactly as he usually resided in her head - basked in the moonlight as if he ruled all that the shadows would ever touch.

And he certainly did not look like a worm right now. Embarrassment began to wash over her. Flight-or-fight...or freeze. It was always the first option but not tonight. Right now she surely found herself frozen in place. She only managed to shift so very uncomfortably and look aside as if someone had just caught her red handed.

"Lord Bokhohn told me you um, that you turn into a worm on full moon nights." Rabbit muttered, "So, I ah... stayed to make sure you will be ... safe."

She thought, maybe if she stared at the ground long enough, maybe it would be kind enough to swallow her right now.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 156 (Lady Ravendancer's Secret)

"That's my great-grandmother, Lady Ravendancer," Mortimer confirmed.

"And that guy kinda looks like Malcolm, don't you think? He's got the same angry look on his face, anyway." Holly grimaced at the mention of Ash's father. "Isn't Lady Ravendancer wearing the medallion Heather and Spencer saw in the Selvadorada museum? That was inscribed for her by a Malcolm A. Landgraab!"

"Where in the book did you find these?" Mortimer studied the photographs, which had no writing on the back. "Judging by the style, it looks like they're from the 1920s."

"I didn't get a good look at the page before I noticed the pictures. But it was near the back I think. The 'unstable spells' section. Declassify? Does that sound right?"

Cassandra and River joined the excitement over the discovered photos. "What if Lady Ravendancer was having an affair and learned about the Landgraab curse?" suggested Cass. She'd studied occult lore in high school and knew a little about different spells. "She was a good-hearted sorceress, right? What if she died trying to decursify her Landgraab lover, but it backfired?"

"It would mean the curse isn't just a story, and the necklace Heather and Spencer found in the jungle isn't a hoax." They looked quietly at their hands as River spoke. "Who's going to be the one to tell Heather while she's going through a custody fight?"

"Maybe...maybe we should wait," Holly suggested carefully. "At least until she and Conrad get custody back. I know how much Heather values the truth, but Mom says she's been really depressed lately. The clinic's about to shut down for a few weeks for final renovations, so she won't have anything else to think about if we tell her now."

"If we hold off, it'll give me more time to look into this," suggested Mortimer. "I want to make sure that's really the same Malcolm A. Landgraab whose name was on the necklace in the jungle, and I want to know if there's more I can find to confirm the way she died."

They agreed to wait as they left the library, making their way to the Gothic mansion in Mortimer's family name. "Maybe I can convince you to move here if you see the place up close," he said to Karl.

They stepped inside, overcome by the scent of dust and mothballs, but still awed by the classic old furnishings. They moved from room to room, examining the dark but luxurious abode.

"If no one lives here, who left the cooking ingredients on the dining room table?" Michael asked his dad. "Is it a ghost?"

River truly had no idea, but he erred on the side of reality with a frown. "Maybe someone working for Goth x was in the place recently."

"This old house belongs to Mom's family?"

"It does. It might even be older than our house back in Henford."

Upstairs, Mortimer and Cassandra had found an old chess set in a bedroom. "A match for old time's sake?" he suggested, and Cassandra offered a polite smile.

"Sure, dad. Red or black?"

"You can choose."

Cassandra chose black - her favourite colour - and Mortimer arranged his red pieces on the other side of the board. They played their first few moves in silence, and Cassandra watched her father while he looked carefully at the checked squares. He was better with writing; she'd have to be the one to speak first.

"I was never angry at you for leaving. I just wanted to make sure Mom was okay and then River and I got married and I moved to Henford. It's not that I haven't wanted to spend more time with you. But I feel like you don't want to call."

"I do want to call, but I never really addressed it with any of you. I know Dexter best through updates from your mother."

"So why don't you change that? I heard you and Karl talking about retirement, and you can write anywhere. I know for a fact Dexter wishes he had the kind of memories with you that Alex and I do."

"I invited him on this trip, but he said he was going camping with his girlfriend."

"When it's time to tell Heather the truth, go to Brindleton Bay and get to know him better. We've all forgiven you for the affair, and none of us misunderstood why you moved out, but you're the one whose stayed away since."

"She's right." Karl emerged in the room at the top of the stairs with Cass' youngest son, Sammy, taking a seat on the edge of the perfectly-made bed. "I think I could retire here, you know. I think I want to call in a ghost hunter before we might move in, but you were right when you said the place is big enough for family to come visit. It might not feel as far away as I think."

While Mortimer and Karl considered the logistics of such a move upstairs, Holly and Kris were getting fresh air with their girls outside.

"I think I need to go to Brindleton Bay for Heather," announced Holly. "Hopefully she'll get Ash back in the custody hearing, but Mom thinks Heather's really struggling."

"I still can't believe the Landgraabs did this."

"I know. If I ever set eyes on Malcolm I'll..." Holly glanced cautiously at their daughters. "I think I should take Betta for a few months to make sure she's coping with the baby coming and Lavender running wild. I can afford the time off work, and Betta's not in school yet."

Kris had never argued with his wife because they'd been on the same wavelength since they started dating in high school, and to her latest announcement, he nodded easily. "Tetra and I can take care of things in the city while you're gone."

Though the family had spent a nice vacation learning secrets and lore, their trip couldn't last forever, and it was time for the narrative to circle back to the main household, anyway. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

WCIF Poses & Sims: Malcolm A. (for Admiral) Landgraab and Lady Ravendancer Goth are posed with @nefaricussims' Moment of Peace and @starrysimsie's You and Me posepacks in the jazz club (the shot from the teaser post on the weekend was also from this pack), and with @simmerianne93's Couple poses 02 on the beach.

Many living versions of Lady Ravendancer Goth are up on the Gallery, but I grabbed one from user DarkChadmeister. For Malcolm A. Landgraab, I downloaded a Gallery-submitted version of the Landgraab sailor of Sims lore. But in my head the boating admiral was Malcolm Admiral Landgraab's father and looked a little more like a gentleman than this swashbuckler. Malcolm A., who called himself "Admiral," went out west to become a successful rancher in my headcanon, and I gave the upload by Levkoni red hair - a Landgraab trait until they started marrying blondes!

I changed some of their outfits in CAS, but I'm so grateful people put stuff like this on the Gallery. Otherwise, I'd have to play through the tarot collection of spend lifetime points on it before getting my own Lady Ravendancer in-game, and I love players who go to the trouble of creating and uploading minor lore characters I want to use but don't want to make myself!

[tiger-in-the-flightdeck]

A new sewing class starts on the 19th, so I am once again asking if you have a bit of change you can spare to help me get my students' supplies.

I teach home sewing at a community centre, and most of the clients are low- or no-income. With the generous support people have shown for my other classes, previous students have been able to make themselves garments that they are proud to show off to friends and family. And we finally have enough thread for any kind of project!

Our first project is always a tote bag, which uses 1 metre of craft cotton per student. The second project is usually a tee-shirt, which uses 2 metres of knit fabric or PJ bottoms which use about the same amount in flannel. These are the fabrics that tend not to get donated. What I would like to do is be able to buy all that fabric in advance for them.

With that in mind, my goal is $120. That's an average of about $10 per student, plus extra for notions like buttons or elastic, and money left to take all the fabric that has been donated and smells like mothballs to a laundromat to be prewashed and destinkified.

If I reach that goal, I will post a tutorial for the tote bag.

Any little bit helps, so does sharing this post.

You can drop a bit of change in my little tin cup on Ko-Fi

I also have a WishList, if you would rather take a look at that.

[survive-object-poll-island]

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[whirligig-girl]

(zoom in!)

Two double-headers on the Trans-Gooiw Railroad passing each other in the hills, dragging long freight trains behind them, during the early days of the Pan-Mellanus Oil Crisis.

More mellanoid trains: Guz's Model Garratt | Museum-piece carrying rocket parts | Advanced Steam Tank Engine | Guz's bigger model Garratt | Tram and Coal Mine loco sketches.

The diesel-hydraulic at the front of the foreground consist, already somewhat old and tired by this point, dates back to around the time period that steam engines were originally retired on Mellanus. It's not very fuel efficient as it is, and with the oil rations, diesels can not handle the trains on their own any longer.

For a few years now the railroads have been taking their steam engines out of mothballs and museums, as coal was comparatively dirt-cheap. Still though, the various maintenance and operational complexities of running steam locomotives resulted in a lot of losses for the railroads.

Pictured here behind the diesel is an early attempt at the Advanced Steam Engine concept, modifying a member of a very prolific and successful 2-8-0+0-8-2 Garratt class with a gas producer combustion system, more modern cylinders and valve gear, and entirely replacing the cab with an electronic control system (with the more diesel-like control stands moved to separate cabs on the tenders). The electronic control scheme allows for the steam engine to be connected to a diesel engine to be run as a multiple unit, cutting down operational costs. However, as a modified prototype, this locomotive lacks some of the other features which exemplified the Advanced Steam era, such as modular ashpans, computerized control, and precision engineering.

On the other track, moving the opposite direction, we see a double header of two steam locomotives, another 2-8-0+0-8-2 loaned from the Slaibsgloth Coal Mine Railroad, and a 2-10-2 'easy' type non-articulated loco leads the train. In this case, there is no electronic connection, so a crew of four mellanoid slimes is necessary to operate the train.

The eagle-eyed railway fans will notice that there are radiators for a dynamic brake on the diesel, yet the diesel is an electric. Diesel-electric dynamic brakes switch the traction motors into generators, and dump the electricity out as waste heat--but there's no traction motors on a hydraulic. So why the radiator fins? There's still a dynamic engine brake on the diesel-hydraulic, so it still needs to be able to dissipate heat, especially on the mountain routes.

WIP images follow:

[chaoticace2005]

Why Hazbin characters are the animal they are:

(Because of that conversation I just had with @xxqueenofdragonsxx )

Angel (spider)

1. His family’s “web of crime”

2. A spider was the last thing he was before he died.

3. He had a weirdly heartfelt moment with a spider as a child that stayed with him to adulthood.

4. He was terrified of spiders and this was his first punishment in hell.

5. He insulted spiders by calling them “creepy fuckers”— the spider community was insulted and sought punishment.

6. He and his family’s last name was “Ragno” which literally means “spider” in Italian.

7. He’s Spider-Man. Or Spider-Gwen at least— look at his colors.

Husk (cat)

1. Fucking hated cats when he was alive

2. Hates flying when he was alive.

3. Flew in a plane in the military at some point so has flight-related trauma.

4. Cause he does that cat thing where they can’t deal with people’s bullshit.

5. Ex had a cat, their relationship was complicated.

6. Husk really hates messes. Having both feathers and fur is the ultimate torture.

7. He died tripping on a cat and then being impaled by the beak of a dead bird.

8. Died falling. Period. Cats land on their feet and birds can fly so it’s some kind of irony.

Alastor (deer)

1. He was killed because someone thought he was a deer in the forest.

2. The deer in headlights look he always makes when someone propositions him sexually

3. He was the predator chasing the prey, now his creature is the prey.

4. First thing he ever killed was a buck.

5. He really likes venison and is a cannibal. Now he has a steady supply of food. He just needs to wait to regenerate.

6. His favorite thing to say was “oh dear” so the universe made it into a pun.

7. He wasn’t shot by a person. He was shot by a serial killer deer.

Sir Pentious (snake)

1. He was a slippery little fella.

2. Was obsessed and had a ton of pet snakes.

3. Alternatively he was terrified of snakes.

4. The last person he called a “friend” called him a snake before leaving him forever.

5. Snakes are supposed to be symbols of healing, which was ironic because he couldn’t save the one person he loved most.

6. He had a lisp and was frequently harassed for sounding “snake-like” (yay ableism)

7. His name really was Sir Pentious when alive and the universe couldn’t not let the opportunity go to waste.

Valentino (moth)

1. He used to zap and kill moths for fun, putting them in peoples beds because nobody likes a moth in your bed.

2. He publicly ran a campaign saying butterflies > moths, the moths didn’t like that.

3. He was killed when a stage light “accidentally” fell on him.

4. Like a moth, he is easily distracted by bright things.

5. Choked on mothballs and died.

6. Sold powder of crushed up moths under the guise that it was cocaine. Someone found out a killed him in anger.

7. Was killed running into traffic as he was being chased by a moth.

Vox (TV)

1. Was a TV host

2. Sold crappy, overpriced TVs

3. Killed someone by smashing their head in with a TV.

4. HE was killed by his head getting smashed in by a TV.

5. His form isn’t really a TV, but he was decapitated and needed a replacement head and this was the first thing he could find.

6. Stared at screens way too long as a child.

7. Was epileptic so the universe thought it would be funny if he could use his face to induce seizures in others (the universe has a messed up sense of humor man. How about we don’t cause people to have seizures?)

[internetgiraffekid1673]

AU Chloé Bourgeois from @princess-of-the-corner

I've been trying out new drawing tools, since I finally gave up on the random bare-bones program I downloaded back in high school, and a coworker recommended procreate. To familiarize myself with it, I decided to draw some of Cornerverse's alternate universe Chloes! Here are the drawings, with the AU explanations under the cut:

Honeybee (Hero Chat) and Lady Luck:

These are Corner's two main AUs. Hero Chat has the heroes set up a group chat back in season 3 to avoid miscommunications, and canon divergence ensues from there. Chloe and Kagami have both pulled a Catwalker there, but everybody does get a design update (I yoinked the pose, since this was the first one I drew and I didn't want to think too hard).

Lady Luck is a pretty standard fare Kwami Swap AU where Chloe gets the Ladybug, and most other characters' miraculous are also shuffled around, since Chloe is doing the picking. Corner's designs here!

Forged AU

After the events of Miracle Queen, Chloe gets a kwami from a different Miracle Box--Miirzan, the bear Kwami of Fire---and makes protecting the exposed heroes her personal mission, since nobody did it for her.

Chloe takes an interesting route for her hero costume in this AU. The first time she went out, she was actually just trying to use the glamour to not get recognized as a civilian, which meant she went with understated clothing that was functionally a palette swap of what she was wearing that day (pictured on the left). While she continues with this trend in the story, I also wanted to give her a proper hero costume, perhaps after she gains some more stability, so I made one myself ;) (pictured on the right).

Double Trouble

After Miracle Queen, Chloe and Ladybug talk and realize taking away an exposed heroe's only means of protection and benching them won't actually keep them safe. Instead, Ladybug permanently hands out the Miraculous, but shuffles them around so it looks like they picked a completely new team. At the same time, Chloe starts working as a double agent against MothBalls and Mayura (who think she's a double agent for them), and gets paired up with Lila. Some Sonic Adventure 2 fandub jokes go a long way to easing that particular relationship, and the future gets a whole lot brighter.

While the whole AU was built on Sonic fandub jokes, Chloe doesn't ACTUALLY say the "I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT" line. That honor goes to Alya in Hero Chat. But, I figured it was fitting just for the drawing. I ever so slightly adjusted Corner's horse!Chloe design to be an even more explicit Nightmare Moon reference.

Bee, Wasp, and Hornet:

In an effort to explain the massive personality retcons between season 1-3 Chloe, and season 4-5 Chloe, a theory was proposed that 4-5 Chloe (Joé/Hornet) is actually a sentimonster created by Hawkmoth and 1-3 Chloe (Bee) is somewhere else entirely. She comes back sometime in the middle of season 5 and is pissed as all hell about her replacement, but Zoe (Wasp) considers both of them her sisters and is determined to make things work.

While this AU is sometimes combined with Corner's Isekai!Chloe AU, sometimes she's just yeeted someplace out of the way so she can't be involved in the plot for a bit. Personally, I like the idea that she ended up camped out in the ReVerse and was only able to return after the Paris Special.

(I did lightly redesign Zoe here, just to cater more to how I picture her in my head. Joé's design is just canon!Chloe, but I got to put AU Chloe in whatever the hell I wanted, so I went whole hog on my thing about putting her in blue and giving her the curly hair Corner and I both headcanon as her natural hair texture).

Princess Bee:

After the Season 5 finale, the dust didn't quite settle as it did in canon. Chloe, now with hard evidence that neither of her parents cared about her, worked her butt off to get into law school with no assistance from them and cut ties completely, down to changing her last name. While there, she befriended the world's most generic dude John Doe, who later married the world's most generic chick Jane Doe and they settled down on a horse farm in Kansas. After some therapy, Chloe decided she wanted a kid, but in vitro would be too much of a hassle, and John agreed to help her out. This is the family photo.

Back in Paris, things got. Complicated. During the final fight, LB and CN ended out having to make a Wish to defeat Hawkmoth. The price was that neither Ladybug nor her allies were able to use the Miraculous ever again.

This meant that when Lila started her grand vengeance plan using the butterfly, she got straight up ghosted. So instead, she just hung on to the butterfly for ~20 years doing low scale cons (and becoming friends with Chester Fester, the best character ever), aimlessly drifting as she grapples with her undiagnosed clinical depression.

Zoe, after witnessing how Andre was willing to up and replace his bio daughter when a shinier new replacement showed up, decided she wanted no part of it and called her dad to help her sort things out. She basically ended out living alone in an apartment in France sponsored by Mr. Lee with him as her legal guardian on paperwork, and more or less avoided talking about the whole situation with the rest of the Miraculous Gang.

Somewhere around the 20 year mark, after everyone has grown up, had kids, and moved on with their lives, everything goes to shit. Andre, who hasn't updated his will in all that time, finally kicks the bucket, and Chloe is dragged kicking and screaming back to Paris (with her daughter Dawn in tow) to deal with the defunct hotel she just inherited.

At the same time, the Adrienette kids finally find the Miraculous stowed in their house, and decide to take them out for a joyride in a burst of teenage stupidity. They immediately end up on the news and Lila comes out of the woodwork to address some unresolved grudges. With the original Miraculous Team incapable of using their powers, and with no other options readily available, the next gen kids are now unfortunately Holders who have to stop her.

Oh, and of course Dawn miraculously (heh) ends up going to the same school as Adrienette's kids and she and Emma are gay as fuck for each other. Their parents are unaware of the connection to their past for a comedically long period of time.

Basically, the next gen kids are in a Magical Girl Anime, Chloe is unwillingly playing Homescapes with the hotel, and the OG Miracuclass are watching the mistakes of their past come back to haunt them :).

Everyone remember to go check out Corner's tumblr and their ao3, there is so much fun fuckery (not just ML fuckery either) going on over there! Thank ya and goodnight!

[magicstormfrostfire]

Mothballs Ch.2 is up!

18+ chapter Sonic/Shadow/Silver old man yaoi