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yesimwriting · 10 months

Note

okay but after the whole lucy gray thing we know coryo was done with “love” and everything BUT what if during the following year of thg he ends up falling in love with another tribute also from district 12 and he’s just going through it bad (again) however he somehow ends up actually getting the girl in the end, maybe even buying her way into the capitol

A/n I've been thinking about a very specific part of this since i first read it but i told myself no more fic writing until i finished at least one of my essays for finals seasons 😭

also ik in the book (and it's implied in the movie) that after the events of the book he lives with the plinths, but let's pretend he lives on his own with access to the plinth fortune for privacy

ik that makes it sound like it's smutty, but it's not lol

----

Proximity aggravates distance. The closer you are to something, the more damage any remaining space causes.

The few feet dividing the two of you have no right to jab at something inside of him the way it does. It's bad enough that instead of going to bed after a long night of fulfilling his apprenticeship duties under Volumnia's watchful eye, he stopped by your apartment. Only one floor away from his.

For months, the only thing holding the two of you together had been memories of those few nights before the Games.

Coriolanus's attempt to remain indifferent towards you had quickly failed, and his backup plan of learning to loathe you had proven to be just as useless. So he settled on letting you unabashedly take his hand whenever fear overwhelmed you and committing the way your kind eyes watched him to memory.

You're looking around the room--his room--openly, eyes darting from the mahogany surface of his desk to the details elegantly carved into his bed frame.

His fingertips itch with the uncertain desire to reach for you. You've only been in the Capitol for about a day and a half. Less than 48 hours. But the move, the beginning of a program for certain, qualifying victors and their families, had been planned for months.

You shouldn't feel like a phantom that'll vanish if he lets go for too long. "What are you thinking about?"

The question grounds you the same way it did last time he asked. You do your best to hide it, but you're still adjusting, still surprised that he managed to find a way to bring you together again. Just like he promised. Your doubt isn't personal, a fact he has to remind himself of.

"I'm just..." You tilt your head slightly, gaze retreating from the royal blue wallpaper and silver trim of his bedroom walls, "Analyzing."

The comment is followed by an easygoing smile that pinches at something in his chest. His new apartment, the penthouse of one of the largest buildings in the city, another gift from the ever flowing well that is the Plinth fortune, still reeks of former poverty. The few things that hint at the personal are hidden behind layers of desperate wealth so thick the items might as well be standard.

A lifetime spent in 12 means that there's no way you can read between the lines. He can't decide if your perspective will make this room look worse or better. It's a nice bedroom, definitely grander than any bedroom you've stood in before...but it's understated. Maybe even disappointing to someone like you.

"Analyzing?"

You turn fully, "A bedroom says a lot about a person."

"You might get more out of analyzing my study," an oddly school boy worthy partial truth slips out before he can stop himself, "I think I've been spending more time there than here recently."

You shake your head once, eyes landing on the crimson red vase filed with crisp white roses his grandma'am had gifted him on his last visit. Her pride and joy now more than ever. "I'm seeing all I need."

A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. It's the most genuine expression that's slipped past him in weeks. When he first worked out a way to bring you here, some doubting part of him wondered if the draw he felt towards you would still exist in person.

Less than two weeks after your victorious departure from the Capitol, he had searched through your files and found your address. He had written the letter in a moment of weakness and only sent it after deciding that writing a letter to never be sent is the only thing more pathetic than writing to you in the first place. He had spent the week following that wallowing in self loathing until an age-stained envelope arrived at his door.

"And what are you seeing?" He keeps his tone light. This is ridiculous. He dragged himself and his family out of a gutter clogged by the casualties of war. Coriolanus is stronger than fleeting emotion now. Your opinions on his room can't possibly affect him.

If he were to simplify what brought you here, to the Capitol, to him, he could blame it on his bedroom. The urge to see you, to figure out some way the two of you closer together before your undeserving district could swallow you whole in an attempt to make you like them, would flare up whenever he received one of your letters.

Those urges, however, had never burned him. Not until you wrote about wanting to see him out of the most curious nostalgia you'd ever felt. You wanted to see him in a way that'd let you know what his room looked like, in a way that'd let you guess at his favorite color.

He takes a few steps forward, making the conscious decision to not reach for you. You've never rejected his advances, not even when he instinctually intertwined your fingers after picking you and your family up from the train station. You had scolded him after, telling him that you'd hear no end of it from your mother. It took a lot of focus for Coriolanus to not smile at that. You spoke of it like it would've never occurred to you to just pull your hand away.

Your eyes shift from end of the room to the other. Coriolanus moves carefully, passing you before sitting at the edge of his crisply made bed.

"Before you make your decision..." You turn instinctually, expression so polite and expecting he almost doesn't know how to bear it. His hand briefly pats the space beside him in a silent invitation. "So you can see it from all perspectives."

Your head tilts slightly, and for a moment, Coriolanus can practically feel your rejection. Then you move, sock clad feet treading over smooth white-gray marble. You sit next to him so assuredly, anyone else would have taken the way you neatly fold your hands in your lap as politeness instead of a display of nerves.

Your family's presence makes you less pliable. It's a factor he's willing to work around considering that you would've never left them to come to the Capitol. And even if he had managed to talk you into it, your nostalgia and homesickness would've made you more of a ghost to him than before.

At least the position your family's in is uncertain enough to allow for some leeway in the social norms that you cling to. However, every once in awhile it hits you that at the end of the day, he's still a boy that you're close to, which means that it's your duty to create the distance necessary to keep everything proper. Leaving your bedroom in the middle of the night because said boy knocked at your door and then entering his room in his empty penthouse is something you would've done under normal circumstances.

But your connection isn't that black and white. If it was something so simple, he would have been able to sever it the night before your Games.

"It makes all the difference," you agree warmly, and only somewhat sarcastically. You give yourself another second to take in the space, "I like it."

He can tell that you mean it. "I haven't fully settled in yet."

You shrug, paying him little mind, "There's something about it that just feels like you."

Coriolanus shifts his focus to the ground. You can't possibly mean it in the way that he sees the room, as a reminder that he still doesn't fully fit into who he's become.

"I've been meaning to pick up a few things," he says, "Tomorrow, after my classes, I was thinking about browsing some paintings." Another half truth. He had been meaning to. Mrs. Plinth had instructed him to visit her art dealer whenever he had enough free time to pick out a few pieces to demonstrate his taste. He'd been putting it off as a dismissable task, but it feels like a safe way to give you your first taste of life in the Capitol. "If you'd like to help me pick some out."

You smile, eyebrows pinching together in a way that's just barely noticeable. You're as interested as you are puzzled. "I'd like that." Relaxing enough to let your hand rest between the two of you, you beam, "I don't know if I'd be much help, but I'd like that."

He'd be willing to get anything that caught your eye. Paintings and vases already with such an exclusive art dealer hold more or less the same level of standing, anyway.

Coriolanus moves his hand slowly, careful not to startle you before his fingers can settle against your own. You instinctually turn over your palm, intertwining your fingers. "I trust you."

You stare at him with wide, understanding eyes. Sometimes when you look at him, really look at him, Coriolanus is struck with the feeling that you can see right through him. It's an irrational feeling, that every good action and cruel deed is reflected in his eyes. Moments like this make it hard to be near you. They also, however, make the thought of adding distance between the two of you unbearable.

"I have an early class."

You dip your chin forward in an attempt to accept what you're considering a dismissal. "Right, you must be tired." The words sit between you for a long moment.

Your free hand presses into the silk of your still new pajamas. You shift like you're going to stand. His hold on your hand tightens before you can move away. You still.

He's being ridiculous. There's nothing about this situation that warrants his inability to look at you. "Stay here." His thumb runs across your knuckles. "With me."

The words are soft enough to be a request, but there's not enough space between them for questioning. He cautiously lifts his head enough to take in your reaction.

"What?" It's a display of shock more than an actual question. Coriolanus squeezes your hand even tighter. You don't try to get him to let go, but you do shift away just enough to create the reminder of distance. "You know I can't."

His other hand reaches forward, settling against your wrist. "Why not?" He doesn't mean for his voice to come off as raspy, as desperate as it does.

You swallow, attempting to straighten your spine in an attempt to offset the instinctual urge to hide your face. This isn't a topic you're even comfortable implying. "My mother would kill me if she so much as found out that I came up here so late, let alone..." You trail off, head dropping to your lap. "Stayed here."

He envelops your hand between both of his. "She knows we're friendly."

You look up just long enough to imply a pointed not that friendly. "It's--" You blink, eyes darting from to your joint hands and then finally to the ground. "You know it's..."

Coriolanus leans forward. The shift is small, just enough for his knee to brush against yours. "It's what?" He keeps his voice low, a barely there whisper that comes off as so innocent it nearly circles back to anything but.

You glance up, so wide eyed and flighty he's reminded of a rabbit. The level of precaution you're exuding can't just be about your mother's opinions, can it? He studies your expression openly, taking in the set of your eyebrows and the way you steadily press your lips together to avoid speaking without thinking. At least some part of you believes in your mother's concerns.

The realization strike shim so quickly he has to focus on keeping his expression neutral. Your bond is so much more than just coming together on a random night where exhaustion's already clouding his focus.

It will happen between the two of you. Eventually. But not yet. You've barely entered the Capitol and every aspect of your life has become vastly different than what you're accustomed to. If he were to attempt to cement any relationship between the two of you like that now, you'd be too overwhelmed or you might think that that's the only reason he brought you here.

He learned early on that it's best to introduce adjustments to you slowly, giving you enough time to hold onto ideas before enacting them. Anything of that nature would work that way too.

"I haven't been able to see much of you." He focuses on your hand, still resting safely between both of his. The words came out too quickly, a flash of some genuine sort of emotion that claw at him on the way out. With you, sometimes a glimpse of feeling works wonders.

Your thumb draws gentle patterns against the side of his hand. "You're busy." He relaxes his hand, turning over his palm. You place his hand on your knee, fingers tracing the natural creases etched into his skin. "You're important."

The way that last word comes out makes an uncertain warmth crawl up his neck. "I--I've wanted to see you more." Another thing he means so much it turns his stomach to admit it.

Your nail drags down a line that cuts across the length of his hand. "Me too."

He bends his fingers slowly, moving in until he's trapped your pointer finger against his palm. "Then stay." You twist your finger enough to express some lighthearted irritation, but not enough to count as a real attempt at escaping. "If your mother says anything, I'll explain it to her." You glare at him without any true aggression. "She likes me, doesn't she?"

Coriolanus already knows the answer. She credits your survival to him. You had mentioned that in a letter once, telling him that she insisted you pass along her gratitude after discovering that the two of you had started to correspond regularly.

He also saw the way she reacted to realizing that she had made it to the Capitol. Your mother's family had once been part of the wealthier side of 12. You're part of a recently fallen line of mine owners, a fact that your mother has only pretended to let go of. He saw a hunger behind her eyes that reminded him of a warped version of his own.

Coriolanus gave her back the pride the war had stolen from her family name tenfold. He owes her this much.

"She'd trade me for you in a heartbeat." He hears the grin in your voice more than he sees it. Your family means the world to you, which means he's subjected himself to seeking your mother's validation and winning over your two younger sisters.

It's not the way he'd choose to spend his limited free time, especially with you standing right there, but he's endured worse for less of a pay off. "Then she'd be a fool."

You fight to hold his gaze. "I doubt that."

Your eyes are pools of honest, unfiltered affection. The care that you're watching him with makes it hard to swallow. The instinct to press, to dig and claw and tear anything that could be hiding an ulterior motive into shreds makes it hard to take a full breath. You've always worn your heart on your sleeve. You're not a flighty songbird that uses its charm to distract its prey from its fang-like talons.

"Stay." Again. So breathless he almost doesn't recognize the word as his own.

The deliberation is transparent behind your eyes. You're considering it, but you're still not convinced. The hesitation stings in a way he doesn't understand. "I don't want to give her a reason to not like you."

So softly spoken he's shocked by the way the words manage to feel like a nail being hammered into his chest.

"She's let you stay with other people before." The response is too sharp, too sudden. He should refocus and think through what he's about to say. Coriolanus knows that it's easier to get you to agree to something through the use of honey sweetened words and displays of patience. "You wrote about him."

The confusion that briefly etches its way into your expression threatens to quell the uncomfortable swell of jealousy tightening his chest. "Warren?" The name makes tints the air between you with something acidic. "That was--different."

Your explanation adds an edge to the pressure in his chest. "Why?"

"We weren't--" You cut yourself off, the instinct to placate him and your desire to not start a conversation you can't finish battling each other oddly. "We were never alone." You squeeze his hand as best as you can. "He's a family friend and I only stayed over when my mom had to work late and I was too young to be alone for so long, so I haven't stayed over in years. And--and he shared a room with three of his siblings and his parents checked on us constantly."

He frowns, unconvinced. The lack of approval has you clinging to him, adjusting your hold on his hand as you gently trail your knuckles against the inside of his wrist. "I do miss you." You stare at your hands. "I know it's weird because we're--y'know--closer than before, but I-I do miss you."

The expanding wave of tension in his chest begins to deflate. You're good at that, at redirecting and soothing without even realizing it. A talent that had contributed to his original desire to loathe you. "I understand that." He runs his thumb over your knuckles. "Things aren't going to get less busy. That's why I want to use all the time we have."

You nod slowly, a hint of understanding making its appearance in the set of your brow. "I know."

"What you wrote," he begins, too aware of how much he means the question that follows, "Did you mean it."

"Of course I did." Not an ounce of hesitation, of uncertainty.

He turns your hand over before shifting his fingers up the inside of your wrist. "You wrote about wanting to see me."

"I did..." The pad of his thumb gently makes its way up your forearm. Your even breathing falters. "I do."

Coriolanus lets himself look up just enough to take in your expression. "Then stay." He swallows, too aware of the sudden dryness of his mouth. "Please."

You glance up at him through your lashes. There's a softness there that jabs at him. "Okay."

He lifts the back of your hand, carefully brushing his lips against your skin. "You mentioned wanting to see a library."

You wrote about it once. A brief mention in one of your letters of the small room in your school's office that served as a sort of communal study space with a few books stacked on a small shelf. Your longing had been clear.

Nodding curiously, you agree, "Yeah?"

"I could leave for my classes a little earlier tomorrow, you could come with me." The proposal comes out slowly, his own suggestion taking him by surprise. "My driver could bring you back, that'll give you time to meet the tutor that's being sent over for your sisters, and then when I get back we'll look at the paintings."

You immediately grin, "Really?"

He finds himself smiling back, pulling your arm closer. "Whatever you want."

You beam. "I'd really like that."

"Good," he affirms with a nod of his head that's a touch too forward. He regrets it almost immediately. "If you like it, I might be able to get your own tutor to meet you at a library."

Part of the still uncertain victor program relies on setting up the victor and their family with a new life. Education plays a role in that. Placing any one of you in an actual Capitol run institution is far out of the question. For everyone's sake. Even if the thought of sharing a classroom with someone from 12 didn't horrify the Capitol parents, you and your siblings wouldn't be able to just jump in. It's not that he views you as unintelligent, but District 12's education system isn't exactly on par with the Capitol's.

"That sounds nice," you sit up a little straighter, excited by the prospect, "A part of me kind of misses school."

Another aspect of your personality that he had learned about after your Games. You like school for the sake of it. "I'll check on the arrangements tomorrow."

He clears his throat before you can do more than just nod, "It's getting late."

Coriolanus carefully sets your hand down on the comforter. You awkwardly shift, now more aware of what you agreed to than ever. "Right," you push yourself to stand, "You need your sleep."

He pulls back his sheets before you can think about it even further. You crawl into the provided space without looking at anything in particular. He's quick to join you beneath the safety of plush bedding before leaning over and turning off the bedside lamp.

Darkness floods the space. There's something about the absence of light that makes things feel heavier. The potential intimacy of the situation sneaks up on him with no warning.

This isn't a loss of control. It can't be. It was his idea, he had pushed and convinced you to stay here. He's aware of everything that's led up to this moment, but that's not enough to stop him from wondering if this is something than he should have known better than to embrace. He had accepted the familiar, fickle knotting of his stomach once before.

Steady warmth presses itself against his arm. He blinks, head turning a second too quickly. Your hand has found his. Coriolanus relaxes, allowing himself to fully relax against his pillow. You pick up on his shift, reflecting it by laying down as well.

For someone that had been so hesitant, you seem to know what to do better than he does. You pull his arm towards you, gently trailing your fingers against the exposed skin. Heat crawls up his neck.

"Goodnight," you mumble, voice already drowsy.

Coriolanus lets out a long breath. He grasps your hand, bringing it back to his lips before settling back into the position the two of you were in before. "Goodnight."

#the hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #the hunger games x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus x reader

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heretherebeturtles-comic · 2 months

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How long does the process take you to get one (or more) comic page done? I love the idea of making comics but i suck at structure, you know with the script and posting/layout. I was wondering if you had any tips or what you wish you knew before you started.?

Sorry if this had been asked before

OOOooooo a fun question for me!! I love talking about comic creation :D

I do my best to keep the full process under 2 days (or 12-14 hours of work) per fully coloured page. I'm trying to get faster, but speed comes with time and experience.

Hmmm as for tips and things I wish I knew... so many things... I should let it be known that I am an artist and not really a writer, but your questions are focused on script/planning/structure, so I'm going to focus the advice on that.

Start with something small - Learn about making comics and find a comfortable style through making a couple smaller comics and then try your passion project. Writing and planning smaller comics with fewer pages takes a different kind of puzzle solving and thought process. Smaller page limits can force you to try new things which you can then apply to larger projects to save time; limitations breed creativity after all. Every attempt made (even an unfinished project) is knowledge gained that you can apply again for future projects.

Study comics! - It's hard to create if you aren't feeding the mind and giving it things to learn and create from. Read comics made by professionals and study how they handle pacing. How many pages are they dedicating to each moment? What do you think of their pacing and what would you change? Take a sketchbook and make small rectangles and draw out the panel layout from that comic. What are they doing that works and what don't you like about it? How would you do that differently? ... I think this is me assigning homework... i am so sorry.

Set a hard page limit - Try to get your story told within that limit, and then add more pages if necessary. More pages = more time you have to spend working on it. Most standard single issue American comics are roughly 24 pages. I try to work inside that limit using a rough 5 page per scene structure.

Condense or Cut - I struggle so hard with this one, but comics aren't written in the same way as a novel is. They have a slightly different plot structure and a much more limited amount of pages to tell the story in. Obviously it depends on the story being told, and what kind of scenes are important to that genre of story, but in general, unnecessary scenes should be cut out. examples...

CUT! Having the characters go out to get ice cream is cute, but you don't need to show them each ordering their ice cream unless the flavour they choose is an important plot point. Skip to the last one receiving their ice cream and turning to the others who already have theirs and are having that deep discussion. OR skip that scene entirely and have a quiet panel of them sitting in the park at sunset, already holding their ice cream, before delving into the deep emotional conversation they will be having.

CONDENSE! You can combine two scenes if you need to. If you have one scene where two characters are having a casual conversation and another where they are sneaking into a building? Stick them together. They can sneak AND talk and now you've only used up 5 pages instead of 10.

Comics take a LONG TIME to make!! - you have to make peace with that _(:Ⅰ」∠)_ Comics, especially full colour ones, are an extremely labour intensive and time consuming way of telling a story. If one page takes 1 day (8 hrs of work) and you have 24 pages, that is 24 days of working on one comic.

Thumbnails! - Draw the pages small and rough first! It's easier to plan things and mess around with the layouts when you don't have an emotional attachment to how the art inside looks. Once you have a layout you like, you can then draw it again in full page size and work on it from there.

Page and panel layouts are my favourite part of the whole process, I could talk forever about it, but I do not have the energy for it right now. I'll save panel/page layout for another time.

It doesn't have to be perfect!!! - IT DOESN'T HAVE TO BE PERFECT!!!! (shouted with excitement btw). Panels can be boring! A page can be extremely simple! The art can be messy! The dialog can be simple! The plot can go nowhere! In fact it is really really fun to make a messy imperfect comic on purpose. Destroy the perfectionist in you, because they will always and forever hold you back from actually creating things. "what if it's bad?" what if it's fun? what if you learn cool things?

Anyway, those are my tips/advice, idk if I actually answered what you were asking... sorry about all the time commitment ones, that is something I really wish I had figured out a few years ago lol.

Comics are fun to make and a lot of learning how to make them is just jumping in, encountering a problem, and then learning how to solve it.

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sizzlingchaosprince · 7 months

Text

The Toy's favorite Child

Notes: This is the first time I'm doing such thing so I'm really nervous XD I didn't know what to put into the background of the drawing so I didn't put any. Maybe I'll edit it soon. Do forgive me for my shading, I'm still learning(trying to)

Synopsis: After starting to live in PlayCare, one creature you became friends with grew a liking to you...

Warning: PLATONIC, headcanon + little story, reader is 12-14 years old, reader is a chill teenager

It's been a year since you got into the PlayCare, passing through the security with laid-back face and leaving the staff confused. They kept you because you seemed useful for them...

You were quite chilly and relaxed, reserved and smart. Also, because of your personality you were almost the same with Cat Nap from cartoons. Maybe that's why you became quick friends with Smiling Critters. With most of them, at least...

The big purple cat was almost never appearing like others from his party. And this interested you.

After a week or so you finally met him face-to-face. You were as calm as always, but your heart was pounding from excitement. You said 'hi' for politeness and introduced yourself, waiting for him to do the same.

Guess what? His face didn't even shift. He continued staring at you with his dead eyes.

After understanding that you won't get an answer from him, you tried to talk about something else.

But he disappeared in blink of an eye.

You were quite disappointed, but you still had the same urge to get to know the living toy better. You knew it'll be a long while...

It was worth 3 months to make him sit and listen to your rambling for 10 minutes. It was worth more months to make him spend at least an hour with you. It took even longer for him to let you stay near him and sleep, leaning onto the puppet. But it was worth the pleasure you get from his warmth and company.

Even though you never heard him talk, it's enough for you to be near him. It's good to talk about any nonsense which randomly comes to your mind and have a listener who won't judge you. It's also good to take a great nap in his fur or stay in complete silence, thinking of your own thing.

The staff, of course, sooner found out the relationship between you and the purple cat puppet.

They tried to use you to their own benefits and new information, but instead you composed some lies which sounded like truth to tell them(Cat Nap helped you a little sometimes, nodding or shaking his head if the lie sounds truthful or not).

When the scientists were starting thinking about taking you for the test next, Cat Nap started to monitor you to make sure you won't end up in the Game Station.

It definitely wasn't him who knocked out the staff members right behind your back. It definitely wasn't him who let out some scratching noises in Home-Sweet-Home. Also, of course, it definitely wasn't his sharp gaze you felt on your gut 24/7.

You liked to use the hair brush on the purple furball. It doesn't move away so you can say that he's at least neutral to your activity(we don't talk about his really quiet purring).

[Now. The small story]

It was a normal day like any other one. More specifically, night. However, this week was quiet strange: the staff members of Playtime Co. except the workers from the PlayCare appeared more often in front of you. When they started talking about 'test', they randomly passed out because of the red smoke. You knew it was one of the Smiling Critters you were hanging out with for a while, but you didn't know why was he doing it.

You were currently sitting with your back leaning against the living cat plush, brushing your companion's tail you gently patted with your free second hand. The only thing that bothered you in that peaceful time was the fact that the purple cat wasn't purring at all. It was staring at you with its dark eyes. Sooner after, you finally asked him about this:

— Is something wrong, Cat Nap?

It didn't answer. Instead, the living toy just stared at you with expressionless eyes, not moving an inch. You weren't intimidated by the stare at all, so you just continued brushing the long tail. You weren't hoping for an answer anyway, but still a small, almost impossible dream was remaining in your heart.

The silence was broken by the raspy, low voice coming out from Cat Nap's voice box.

— The Prototype... Will Save Us.

You flinched.

Wow...

This is the first time he ever said something to you. It was surely a progress for your friendship.

You stared at him with wide eyes for a moment before shifting your attention back to the tail. You shrugged with your shoulders, your face had a relaxed smile.

— I don't know who the Prototype is, but if they helped you somehow, I think they're my saviour too. You're like a home to me.. I can't even imagine what would it be like living without you here!

You chuckled, patting the fluffy tail while Cat Nap looked at you with the same stare. However, something in his eyes changed... Maybe his gaze gained a little more... softness?

He stared at you until you fell asleep on him again. A few minutes of him sinking into his thoughts have passed, the toy putted his head on his paws, wrapping his tail around you like a blanket and soon enough closing his eyes. You would call it the same night-time scenario with Cat Nap in the next morning, because you didn't know that he was comfortably purring, nuzzling himself into your warmth last night...

Notes: OH MY GOD I DID IT :D I'll maybe do part 2, but without promises

Anyways, thank you for wasting your time reading my first-ever-made English fanfic. Do write me some comments about my errors if you find any, I will appreciate it since it'll improve my writing skills.

Have a nice day/evening/night!😘

#poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime #poppy playtime 3 #cat nap #cat nap x reader #platonic #child!reader #fluff #own work #own drawing #first post

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thegettingbyp2 · 7 months

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Once again, I’m in love with your writing so;

could you do one where reader x Coriolanus are in an established relationship but they’ve never gotten intimate before so after a year of dating they’re hanging out at his place or something and a small kiss turns into more kissing and coryo indicates he wants to go further but reader is a bit unsure so it’s just a mixture of fluff and smut? 🫶🏼🫶🏼

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‘Coryo! You need to concentrate if you want to pass the test,’ you exclaimed, trying not to laugh as your boyfriend let himself flop down on the bed next to you. You and Coriolanus had been dating for just over a year now and you were pretty sure it was the best thing that had come out of your time at the Academy. Tonight, you were trying to help him study for a test, one of the last tests of the year and if he passed, he was a shoe-in for the Plinth Prize, something that you knew he was desperate to get his hands on. The only other thing that was standing in his way was the Hunger Games, where he’d been given the District 12 girl; if he won the Hunger Games and passed his test, he could pretty much guarantee that he’d be getting that prize.

‘I’m bored! We’ve been at this for the past three hours,’ he groaned, turning his head to face you, the smile you loved so much working its way onto his face. ‘How about we take a break?’ He then turned his whole body until he was laying on his front next to you, propping himself up on his elbows as he leaned in closer to you, his lips brushing against yours.

‘You know what would happen if we take a break, Coryo,’ you whined, wanting nothing more than to throw your books down and just spend the rest of the afternoon with him, but you knew how important this test was to him. ‘We’ll get distracted and then we won’t come back to it.’

‘So, let’s give up for today and I promise we’ll do extra tomorrow,’ he replied, shrugging his shoulders, already having had come up with an argument for you. You looked at him for a couple of seconds, weighing up your options before the need to feel his lips on yours overtook you.

The moment you closed your book Coriolanus was on you. His lips crashed against yours in a rough, dirty kiss that had your teeth clashing together. He moved his body on top of yours and the feeling of his weight resting on top of you was both relaxing you and making you feel more desperate to him. When he began to move his lips down your neck, you couldn’t help your hands from grabbing the bottom of his white shirt, tugging it upwards until your hands could slide against his warm skin, coaxing a groan out of his lips. His hands absentmindedly moved to the hem of your skirt, pushing it up until his fingers skimmed against the waistline of your panties, not noticing when you stiffened underneath him.

‘Coryo,’ you mumbled, pushing at him lightly. Instead of replying, Coriolanus buried his head further into your neck, nipping at your skin. ‘Coryo, come on.’

‘What?’ he murmured into your neck, his hands grasping onto your hips.

‘We should probably stop,’ you said, giggling quietly when you felt his fingers brush lightly against your stomach. Coriolanus pulled his head out of your neck to look at you, his hand coming up to lightly brush hair out of your face.

‘Why?’ he asked, his icy blue eyes staring into yours.

‘Because we haven’t - I haven’t,’ you stammered until he leaned up to press another bruising kiss to your lips.

‘Well, why don’t we?’ he murmured against your lips before pulling back to look at you, his eyes drawing you in.

‘We haven’t talked about it and - and - ’

‘We don’t need to talk about it, baby,’ he said, his hand moving down to rest on your hip, squeezing gently. ‘Do you trust me?’

‘Of course I trust you,’ you replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, making a grin spread across his lips.

‘Then trust me when I tell you that we don’t need to talk about it, it feels right, don’t you think?’ he spoke softly, his thumb running gently along your hips. You couldn’t stop the nod of your head as you looked at him and felt yourself falling into his gaze. ‘Don’t you love me, sweet girl?’

‘I love you,’ you whispered, your eyes fluttering closed as his fingers began gathering the material of your skirt up around your waist.

‘Good girl,’ he murmured, his lips beginning to trace patterns across your collar as he moved his fingers up to tug the straps of your dress down your shoulders until your dress was completely bunched at your waist.

He groaned when he saw that you hadn’t been wearing a bra and his lips dove down to wrap around one of your nipples as his fingers slowly tugged your panties down your legs, leaving you bare underneath him whilst he was still fully clothed. You whimpered as your fingers wound in his hair, tugging at the same time as trying to keep him as close to you as possible. A gasp escaped your lips when you felt him run a finger through your pussy, your hips bucking up against him slightly.

Coriolanus chuckled against your nipple, making you whine at the vibration around your nipple and he slowly pushed his finger into you. You instantly felt your entire body seize up at the new feeling, not knowing if it felt good or bad.

‘Relax,’ he said softly as he gently crooked his finger inside you, making you cry out. Your fingers moved to his shirt, fumbling with the buttons as you tried to unbutton the shirt, wanting it off of him as soon as possible. Coriolanus chuckled as he pulled his finger out of you to help you with the buttons, grinning at the loud whine that left your lips. ‘Baby, if you want it off, you’re going to have to let me take it off because you clearly can’t focus on anything right now and I haven’t even done anything yet.’ He shrugged his shirt off, discarding it on the floor along with your dress before quickly unbuttoning his trousers, pulling them and his boxers down just enough to free his cock. Your eyes widened and he smirked at your expression, smug.

‘That’s not going to, I mean, it’s big, it’s not going to,’ you stammered, unable to move your eyes away from him.

‘It’s not going to what, sweet girl?’ he asked softly, wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping slowly.

‘It won’t fit, Coryo,’ you said in practically a whisper, making Coriolanus chuckle and drop his head to rest on your shoulder, biting down gently.

‘I thought you trusted me?’ he asked, lifting his head to look at you, the look of mock-hurt on his face sent a wave of guilt rushing through you.

‘I do!’ you exclaimed, quick to reassure him, wanting to get rid of the hurt look in his eyes. Seemingly satisfied with your answer, his face softened and he pecked your lips before reaching down to grip your thigh, hooking your leg over your hip.

‘Then trust me when I say I’ve got you,’ he whispered before pushing into you.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow smut #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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badgers-and-cats · 8 days

Note

hello love i recently read your sirius fic and it was really great^-^ and now i would like go ask (if you’re comfortable with it) older remus lupin x younger reader ,who are secretly invloded with each other, and they’re at an order meeting and she keeps teasing him subtly and he can only take so much 🤭 and then after the order he grabs her and he pulls her into a room and then you know smut ensues

would be great but if you can’t right that’s alright too thanks anyway🤭🤭

Pretty Dove (Remus Lupin x reader)

Masterlist

AFAB reader

Warnings: age gap (everyone is of age - reader is in early to mid 20’s). Unprotected PIV. Blowjob. Feminine pet names MDNI!!! (Let me know if I forgot anything!!)

A/N: Aaa thank you my lovely, I’m glad you enjoyed the Sirius fic!!! Hope you like this one just as much❤️ sending lots and lots of love❤️

Also wasn’t really sure how to end this! So apologies if the ending isn’t great

No matter how hard you tried to get his attention, he just wouldn’t look at you. The entire meeting, which had reached the half hour mark now, you had received a maximum of 2 looks from him, and one of those times was because he was talking to the group.

You understood your relationship with the older man was a secret. The past 4 months had been spent sneaking about, only getting to spend time together when nobody else was around. Only being about to touch him and to be touched when you were 100% certain you wouldn’t be disturbed or caught.

But the last time you had a moment alone was a whole 12 days ago, (but who’s counting, right?) and you were getting desperate. Especially when he wouldn’t even look at you. From the outside, it was like you were just acquaintances, colleagues even.

You were fed up of being ignored. So, you acted on an idea you had thought of. It was risky, but you were confident you wouldn’t get caught.

His demeanour changed, when he feels your fingers running up his thigh. Still, he doesn’t look at you. But it’s obvious your small action is affecting him. What else could you get away with, you wonder.

With no warning, your hand touches his hardening cock through his pants. He snaps his head at you, gaining himself a few funny looks from other members of the order. You smile softly at him, an innocent, friendly, act in the eyes of everybody else; but you and he know differently.

He knew that he couldn’t do much, even if your relationship was knowledgeable to the order; this was still a risky move. Instead, he gives you a stern look as he looks the other way.

The meeting lasts another 15 minutes. Remus leaves almost instantly, looking at you as to say ‘follow me.’ You leave a moment later, following him into an empty drawing room upstairs.

The second the door is closed, your back is pushed up against it.

“What is the matter with you today?” He asks, one hand on your hip and the other placed on the door at the side of your head.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Remus,” you smirk, running your hands down his chest, smiling up at him softly.

“You know exactly what I mean, dove,” he whispers, kissing the corner of your mouth, pulling away before you could respond,

“Remus, please,” you’re starting to beg. But you cannot ignore your heat begging for his touch any more. He just smiles at you softly, tucking your hair behind your ear. Luckily for you, he had been longing for your touch - his hand just didn’t compare to you.

“I need you to be quiet for me, pretty dove. Can’t have anyone catching us, can we?” He asks. You don’t even have the chance to fully process what he had said, but that doesn’t matter anymore. His soft lips are a contrast to the bruising force of the kiss.

He runs his tongue over your lips, before sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, earning a soft moan from your swollen lips.

“I love you so much, pretty girl. Missed you so much,” he groans, kissing you before you could answer - swirling his tongue around yours as he pushes you further against the door.

“Mhm Rem,” his name rolls off of your tongue effortlessly, almost as effortlessly as his hand made its way to the top of your head as you make your way to your knees, palming his bulge when you get there.

“Go on, pretty dove. Show me how much you missed me,” he says, gently and lovingly moving your hair out of your face as you undo his belt - taking down his pants and boxers.

Usually, you would tease. But after so long with no touches, you elect to get straight to it - Remus is delighted for this decision, you knew from his satisfied sigh when his member enters your warm mouth.

You bobbed your head along his length, it hitting the back of your throat with every bob. His hand has made a made shift ponytail, helping you to move along his length, as well with the occasional thrust of his hips.

You’d be lying if you said you wasn’t enjoying this as much as he was - the wetness between your legs proving that. Like he read your mind, he gently pulled your mouth off his member, your lips darkened and wet with saliva.

“Need to feel you. Wanna be inside you,” he begs. He helps you strip quickly - lining himself up with your heat. Rubbing his head through your slick, he pushes just his head into your wetness.

He groans at the sensation of finally being inside you after almost 2 weeks, resting his head in the crook of your neck - kissing it gently.

“Please, wanna feel you all,” you whine, hands playing with the hair on the back of his neck, as you kiss the top of his head. Pushing into you more until he bottoms out, now balls deep inside you, it takes him a moment to ground himself after feeling your warmth and wetness around his aching member.

After a few moments, he starts moving his hips - every one coming in faster and harder than the last. You’re holding onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. He has one hand caressing your face, thumb running up and down your cheek lovingly, the other against the door behind you.

“Oh fuck, oh, yes, fuck yes, there, just like that, fuck,” you moan, attempting to not be too loud, as his thrusts somehow becomes rougher as he bites your neck lovingly.

“Ssh, quiet dove, don’t want anyone catching us do we? Not after all this time,” he whispers - unable to keep his own moans down.

You knew you wouldn’t last long, “can I- fuck,” you couldn’t even finish your question - feeling his dick hit your cervix with every thrust.

“Yes, I’m close too, cum for me gorgeous girl,” he says, before stilling his hips, filling you up with his cum, as you soak his dick in your juices.

He pulls out after a minute, you while slightly at the loss of contact. With a gentle kiss on the lips, he says “I love you. I’m so sorry for not giving you the attention you deserve.”

“That’s okay, handsome. You can ignore me more often if that’s how I’ll get fucked afterwards,” you smirk, holding his face in your hands, kissing him again, “and I love you too,” you smile.

After getting dressed again, and a handful of more stolen kisses, you both leave the drawing room, hoping to remain undetected. That is, until you come to face to face with Fred and George Weasley.

“Afternoon,” they both smirk, before walking away.

“I wonder what they’ll want in return for them to not tell everyone,” you joke.

#remus lupin #remus lupin smut #Remus lupin x reader #older Remus lupin #professor Remus lupin #request

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krisfaeley · 9 months

Text

Something a little different this time, which is to say: I am sorry, everyone who's waiting for their commissions. My brain broke or something and drawing has been stressing me out of late, with the bizarre exception of spriting??? which feels safe and playful and ok.

So, uh, instead of doing my job, I've been making these for the Rosigma mod for OpenXcom. I really can't say enough good stuff about that, for the record; OpenXcom is the best Xcom on its own, but the Rosigma mod is a completely mindblowing experience that makes most huge release titles I've played look silly, and the community that makes it is super nice and helpful, even though I'm butting in without invitation and, uh, possibly trying to replace some sprites they've already made, but a commissar's >got to< have a long flowy coat, okay?

I used to pride myself on having gone through life completely ignorant of all things Warhammer until just about now, and I have... mixed feelings... about spending dozens of hours drawing little baby space fascists, but BOY the game is fun. I like to think that at the very least, this extremely niche mod for an ancient game that is being enjoyed by 10-12 people is an extremely funny hole to fall down.

Wouldn't be me if I didn't start a NEW project without first finishing the previous one, so while Steel Legion is still only half-cooked, I already slapped some dang Valhallans together.

Again, I'm sorry to anyone reading this that I've left on read for some weeks. I don't know how much of comfort this is, but I usually go through phases of drawing tiny little things compulsively for some time until one day, I find the paper is too small, and get back to "real" stuff - I hold onto a flickering hope that one day soon, these sprites will grow too small for me and I'll pick up a pen again ;-; Anyway - happy new year!

#rosigma #openxcom #wh40k #warhammer #sprite #modding #2d

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celestiall0tus · 9 months

Text

Amaranthine - Chapter 12 - Attempt

Beginning || Previous || Next

Atropa walked along the rooftops as he patrolled the night. Frustration grew with each passing hour when nothing came up. It had been like this for the past few nights. He, along with Carmine and Midnight, would go about their own patrols, but there would be no sign of Adonis or his monsters. Annoyance prickled knowing without any danger, Nimue wouldn’t show up, making all this pointless.

“How’s the patrol?” Rena asked.

Atropa jumped and spun around to face her. “You need a bell or something.”

“You aren’t the first person to say that, nor will you be the last.”

“Right. Anything?”

“Nope. Dead quiet. I think Adonis is finally slipping up. I wonder what got to him.”

“Wonderful. So, I’m just wasting my time?”

Rena snickered. “You sound so much like Midnight. Always complaining about being on patrol instead of doing literally anything else. But this is the price we pay. Carm and Night for being heroes, and you wanting to tame your soulmate.”

“Please don’t say it like that. It sounds… weird, wrong.”

“Ok. What else should I call it? You’re basically going against a rampaging barbarian and trying to quell her. What else is it other than taming?”

“I don’t know. Maybe, just maybe, quelling, as you said?”

“Same difference.”

“Fine, whatever. What about the other stuff? This game you speak of. Anything new?”

Rena hummed. “I believe I’m onto our last player. After all, there’s me, you, Nimue, and now the fourth.”

“Who are they?”

“Who indeed?”

“Seriously? Why not tell me? Don’t we want things to play out differently than whatever’s happened in the past?”

“Well, it would be in your best interest if you want to be with your soulmate. After all, if Nimue dies because of you, the dragon won’t ever forgive you.”

Atropa hummed. Questions and thoughts that have plagued him since meeting Marinette rose to the surface. He turned away from Rena as he was lost to his thoughts.

“Everything alright?” Rena asked.

“I don’t know. Something… odd happened.”

“Oh. Is it good gossip? I’m all ears.”

“It’s nothing really… I guess it’s important, isn’t it? Fine. I have a hunch of who the dragon is.”

Silence. “How?”

“It’s just a hunch, but there were a few things this woman said. How her roomie is like nature itself, and when I met her roomie, the music the chick gave off was very similar to my own kwami. Like I was literally standing before a god. Not even to mention how her and her roomie have been fighting and the pair seem to be on good terms but are ready to go head-to-head with each other.”

“Are you sure? It could be a coincidence.”

“It should, right? But something feels… odd. Everything about this is odd. I mean, I feel this constant draw to the dragon. I want to see her. I want to talk with her. I just want her. Every moment I’m not with her, I feel like I’m on edge. Then I meet this woman and it eases up. I feel comfortable and at ease, like I’m with an old friend and in good company.”

“She could be another soulmate. It is possible for a person to have more than one.”

“Clearly, but do they all have the same effect on each other?”

“I can’t say. I’ve only met the one.”

“Great. So, what should I do?”

“Well, why not spend more time with this other soulmate of yours? Spend your nights quelling the dragon, but hang out with her during the day.”

“That sounds nice, but she’s probably very busy. She owns her own store that I’m sure she runs by herself.”

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait. A young lady, a store owner, and mans it herself? Would the store happened to be named ‘Avalon’?”

“I believe so.”

“Oh. Oh! I know exactly who you’re talking about. That should be an easy fix. Do you have a job? Are you looking?”

“N-not exactly. I was planning on getting into university now that I’ve met Jagged’s demands.”

“Well, what do you do all day?”

“Do I have to answer that?”

“You already did. What if you worked with her? Are you good with customer service?”

“I… wouldn’t know. I’ve never worked such a job. I’ve only been a delivery boy and Jagged’s prized tool.”

“That’s ok. There’s room to learn. Oh, if it stays quiet, I should go see her. I’m sure she’d love the help. Sure, she has her roomie, but her roomie isn’t the best with customers. Oh, this will be grand!”

“Hold up. Is this really-?”

An explosion cut Atropa off. He and Rena exchanged glances and ran towards the source. They peered over a building at a pillar of smoke that came from the bank. They jumped down and ran inside. She vanished while he armed himself. He stepped up to the vault and peered inside. He raised a brow at the tiny goblin creature that was covered with bombs.

Atropa snapped his fingers. The goblin screamed in pain and fell to the floor, writing in agony. He grabbed it and dragged it out to the streets. He paused seeing Rena with a pair of guards. He tossed the goblin aside and ran to her. He stopped seeing one person’s aura was black for death while the second was gravely injured.

“What happened?” Atropa asked.

“They were caught in the blast. One dead, one injured. No other casualties.”

Atropa hummed. He looked at the guard’s injury. The guard had lost an arm and was losing blood. He looked down at his hands. Sass had told him he was able to heal people, but could he in this state? He had warped Sass in his frustration and anger, turning them into an instrument of pain instead of healing.

Atropa took a deep breath. He pushed out the thoughts of Nimue and stuffed down his frustrations and focused. He attempted to heal the guard but stopped when the guard cried in pain. He winced and tried again and again, but the result was unchanging.

“I’m sorry. I can’t heal him,” Atropa said.

Rena chuckled. “I didn’t realize you could, but that’s ok. I was going to rush him to the hospital. You have other things to worry about anyway.”

Atropa nodded. He watched Rena leave before his eyes fell on the goblin. It shifted as it pulled out a remote detonator. He swore and used his powers to inflict more injuries on it, causing it to scream and writhe. He took the detonator before he tossed the goblin up into the air, far over the city. He broke the device and turned away when the goblin slammed back into the ground.

Atropa jumped back and staggered when the ground shook. He turned to face Nimue as she stared in his direction. He grimaced as cracks formed in her armor.

“Wait! I don’t want to fight,” Atropa declared.

Nimue took a step back and fell on her knees. “I… don’t… either. Can’t stop… her.”

“Is there something I can do to help?”

“I don’t… die.”

Atropa took a step back at the shift in Nimue’s voice as it distorted. He grimaced as her armor broke and fell away. She glared up at him as her bright blue eyes turned a sinister red.

“Enough! I’ve done nothing to you to invoke your rage.”

“You breathing air is enough to invoke my rage, snake.”

“For what? An ancient sin committed by someone that wasn’t me?”

The dragon snarled. She slowly rose as the rest of the armor fell and crumbled to ash. Her clothes ripped and fell from her body except for enough cloth to cover her breasts and genitals. Atropa sucked in a breath as he fought to keep his gaze on her red eyes.

“Since the first, I’ve watched your love kill her. Again and again and again. A vicious cycle that goes round and round, but no more. The cycle ends now with your death. Fall before Guenevere and may the bluebells toll your death!”

Guenevere roared and lunged at Atropa. He ducked out of the way, but she was quick. She heel turned and kicked him in the gut. He took a sharp breath as he was sent flying into a building. He stood as she pinned him down. She aimed to punch his face, but he moved out of the way as she hit the ground. She stuck again, but he moved once more. She roared, balled her fists together, and brought them down. He caught them, but struggled against her sheer strength.

Atropa strained against Guenevere when he saw a shimmer around her hand. The vague outline of a sword’s hilt began to form. He uttered a curse and used his power on Guenevere. She roared and lashed about at the excruciating pain. He flung her off him and used his power again. She screamed in agony as she writhed. She scrambled to her feet and aimed for him, but he used his powers a final time and brought her crashing down.

“We don’t have to fight. Just give me a chance,” Atropa plead.

“Never. I’m done… giving you chances. Every time I do… you… she… I can’t. I won’t.”

“You can’t keep this up. Why fight when you’ve already lost?”

Guenevere laughed. “Foolish mortal. You think because you have me incapacitated, I’m down for the count? You know nothing of me, but perhaps a lesson is in order.”

Atropa furrowed his brow when his skin crawled. He squirmed uneasily when he felt hot. He took a sharp breath as his skin burned and everything felt like it was on fire. He attempted to scream, but it came out as a choked gasp.

“Yes, mortal. Feel everything burn. Do you hear me? Burn!”

Atropa snarled and lunged for Guenevere. He sunk the fangs of his mask into her right shoulder and injected her with a sedative. She uttered a curse before she passed out and reverted to Nimue. He let out a breath as he no longer felt his blood boiling. He took several more breaths when the whirl of a yo-yo caught his attention. He looked up as Carmine and Midnight joined them.

“What happened here?” Carmine asked.

Atropa sighed. “An attempt to make peace with… with Guenevere.”

“Guenevere? Is that the knight’s name?” Midnight asked.

“No. The other half of her. The barbarian,” Atropa corrected.

“I know you feel a need to see her, but is this really wise? At this rate, you’ll kill each other,” Carmine pointed out.

“C’mon, Carm, you don’t know that,” Midnight said.

Carmine and Midnight bickered, but Atropa ignored them. He attempted to stand but fell from the soreness and lingering pain. He sighed and scooted closer to Nimue. He looked her over, thankful she looked to be asleep. Regret struck him at using his powers on her and the pain he caused her.

“I’m sorry,” Atropa whispered.

“It’s… it’s ok,” Nimue whispered.

Atropa let out a soft gasp. “Are… are you ok?”

“Fighting… to stay awake… but ok.”

“I’m sorry. I-.”

“I should be… apologizing. Not… not strong enough. Her anger… stronger.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No. This is… is my battle. Must… show her I’m… that I won’t… give up.”

“Dammit. There’s got to be something.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t-.”

Smoke filled the area. Carmine and Midnight cried out in surprise while Atropa guarded Nimue. He stared out into the smoke, waiting for another to come when an invisible force kicked him out. He swore and staggered over by the time to smoke cleared and Nimue was gone. He let out a defeated sigh and fell to his knees.

“Wow! I can’t believe you got a whole conversation with the dragon. Congrats!” Midnight applauded.

Atropa opened his mouth but shut it and shook his head.

“Night, let’s go. Back to patrol.”

“Ugh! Fine. Later, snake!”

Atropa watched Carmine and Midnight leave before he struggled his way back to the Seine. He paused under a bridge and de-transformed. He took a deep breath at the sudden relief when the pain vanished.

Sass hissed beside him. “Damn you, Longg. Unreasonable bitch!”

“I don’t think we should keep doing this, Sass,” Luka whispered.

“Giving up already?”

“No, but there has to be another way. I just… I can’t stomach hurting her. I know it was Guenevere, Longg, whatever, but it still hurt. Not to mention that even if I bring down Guenevere, she can still kill me.”

“That’s for damn certain. Longg hasn’t hesitated to kill before, but this is ridiculous. I don’t see why she can’t listen to reason. I’m tempted to get Lethe involved just to end this madness, though I doubt that would help.”

“What do you mean? And who’s Lethe?”

“Oblivion. It’s her that set the conditions for your mortal souls to reincarnate. Drink from her river to forget and you may return, simple as that. It can work for some kwamis, but Longg is nature. And, unfortunately, nature doesn’t forget. Everything is etched into the foundations, and she will remember every atrocity ever committed again, even if Lethe did get involved.”

Luka hummed. “Guenevere said that we’re caught in a vicious cycle, as did Rena, I think. What if we break that cycle?”

“How?”

“Could you maybe speak with Longg again? Find out how all this began. Maybe then we can avoid it? I know Rena is already doing just that, but what if we played out part in breaking it too.”

Sass hummed. “I could, but perhaps I should seek out Psyche, kwami of souls. It’s long time she got involved.”

“Why hasn’t she?”

“Because there was no need. That was until one of our own decided to interfere in such a way.”

“Seriously? Wouldn’t you lot try to avoid these things?”

Sass laughed. “You mortals are a dime a dozen, as are your souls. Unless your soul is in serious peril, then there is no reason for Psyche to get involved, unless another kwami is. Just as Tikki and Plagg did when Nooroo gave himself to a wicked heart.”

“I… see. What should I do in the meantime?”

“I’d suggest keeping up the routine until further notice. The last thing we should do is put all our eggs in one basket.”

“Then is there a better way to pacify Longg?”

“No. The best is the sedation method. Anything else won’t work as Longg is nature. With a mere thought, she could burn you alive, steal the breath from your lungs, drown you, or even use the very ground to swallow you whole. As some examples.”

Luka paled. “O-oh? Is that all?”

Sass chuckled. “You’d be wishing for just that. She’s as creative as Tikki and Vana when it comes to punishments. That is until she’s set on a certain method.”

“So, just sedate her each time? That’s all I can do?”

“Pretty much. Unless you want to back down, let her go.”

Pain struck Luka’s heart at the notion. “No, please! I can’t… I can’t.”

“Then steel your heart. You will still have a trying month ahead of you before the final altercation. So long as the fox is being honest.”

“I believe so. What reason has she given us not to trust her?”

“I’m not answering that.”

“I don’t expect you too. Anyway, let’s return to Liberty.”

“Right behind you.”

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djnusagi · 8 months

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It is 2003. I am 4 years old. Every day I'm dropped off at the daycare center in the community college my dad attends. All my friends there are girls. We play dress up with a big milk crate full of clothes. I want to wear one of the dresses. I am told it's not allowed because I'm a boy. It is 2005. I am 6 years old. I make friends with a girl in my class. She is my best friend and we are together every day. One day she says she can't be my friend anymore because I am a boy and boys are gross and I'm weird. I don't want to be friends with any of the boys. They all bully me and hit me and pin me to the ground. But that's ok because that's just how boys play. I have no friends anymore. It is 2006. I am 7 years old. I stare at a woman in an advertisement in one of my mom's magazine. She is beautiful. I want to grow up to look like her. I realize I will not grow up to look like her and will instead grow up to look like my father. The thought fills me with fear. I go up to my room and cry. I draw a picture of myself as a girl. I go to sleep praying that I will wake up as a girl named Sarah, and that my life as a boy will slowly fade from my mind. I try to kill myself through strangulation in the school bathroom. I obviously fail but my attempt on my life is discovered anyway. My parents are furious that I would be so selfish. It is 2009. I am 10 years old. I have one friend. He hits me and calls me a faggot but he is nicer than any other boys at school. I am over at his house. His mother speaks on the phone about a gay man they knew who got something called a "sex change". I do not know what this means but it piques my interest. I desperately want to know more, but I know that it's taboo and wrong.

It is 2011. I am 12 years old. I discover what "transgender" means. I spend hours on the computer, looking at websites about Male to Female Transsexuals. I treat the transsexual roadmap like a bible. I want to transition right away. I tell my school counselor. She is supportive, but implores me to consider simply being a gay male crossdresser like her son. I do not want that. I want to be a girl. I tell my parents. They tell me I have been brainwashed. That I will never be allowed to transition and that if they catch me looking at websites about the matter I will be punished. It is 2012. I am 13 years old. A year of constant begging and pleading has convinced my parents to take me to a gender specialist. I think I will finally get puberty blockers, or maybe even estrogen. I am interrogated for hours by an adult about my sexuality, sexual desires, and whether or not I like women's clothing. I like boys and girls, which I tell her, but I do not have much in the way of sexual desires, because I am 13. She takes this as deceit. At one point she touches between my legs and rubs my genitals through my pants. I do not want this. But I will endure it for the privilege of being allowed to transition. In the end she tells me there is no way I can be trans, because I am attracted to girls and interested in anime, which is a "male interest". It is 2013. I am 14 years old. Every day I roleplay in chatrooms with strangers. I do not want them to be sexual but they quickly take on a sexual nature at the insistence of my rp partners. I have been doing this for a year now. This is the only place I can be a girl. I exchange skype info with a few of these people and begin chatting regularly. A man in his late 20s asks me to be his girlfriend. I accept. At least he sees me as a girl. It is 2014. I am 15 years old. I have begun growing scraggly hair all over my neck. I have been in a daze for weeks. I cannot focus. I feel detached from my body. I am like a zombie. My dad takes me into the bathroom and shows me how to shave. He pats me on the back and tells me I am a man now. I go into my bedroom and cry. Later on my parents discover the roleplaying and my boyfriend. My ipod and my laptop are confiscated and the door is taken off my bedroom. I am placed under strict monitoring and supervision. I try to kill myself. I wake up alive in a hospital bed. I am taken to a large building where I sleep on a cot and am watched by doctors. I don't remember a lot from this time period. I went home and watched evangelion for the first time.

It is 2016. I am 17 years old. The door is put back on my bedroom. I am given back my iPod and am allowed to take my laptop into my bedroom by myself. I stay inside every day watching pirated anime because it lets me forget about reality. It is 2018. I am 19 years old. I get my first smartphone and immediately download grindr. I hook up with strange men who hide me from their wives. Being fucked by them is the closest I get to feeling like a girl. I find out about a student at my community college who sells a variety of sedative pills. It is 2019. I am 20 years old. I am spending all my money on xanax, percocets, oxycotin and similar pills. I take them more and more often and in higher doses over time. I start coming to class high. I fall asleep in the hallways from time to time. This is the only way I can numb the constant ambient pain caused by my unaddressed gender dysphoria. It is 2020. I am 21 years old. The whole world is locked down. I am forced to stop taking pills and replace it with copious amounts of weed, which is now legal. I am no longer in school. I am high all the time. I can't sleep at night. I want to be a girl so badly. It is 2021. I am 22 years old. I will start school again in September. I have started hormone replacement therapy, but I know it is too late for me. My body is mangled beyond repair by years of drugs. I have taken to excessive caloric restrictions in order to lose weight. The hormones don't do much, but they help me sleep better. I am sober now. It is 2024. I am about to turn 25 in a month. I see an article headlined: "my trans kid experienced a joyful, anxiety-free girlhod - all thanks to puberty blockers". I want to cry but the tears won't come. I know that should have been me. But it wasn't. I will never be a girl. I will never be a woman. I will never be happy.

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luvtonique · 30 days

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Wait, I'm a little out of the loop, why are you losing followers?

The most likely reason is because I support generative AI and people just immediately decide based on that alone that I'm in support of art theft, despite the last 12 years of me very consistently saying I'm against art theft.

I don't mind if people steal my art personally, go for it, take it, trace over it, edit it, I don't care, have fun. Even remove my signature from it, it literally does zero damage to me, I don't even sign most of my art anyway.

The point I'm making though is that I do in fact utilize AI myself because I am disabled and unbelievably impoverished. I use it to help me make backgrounds because I have 25 years of experience drawing characters and maybe 15 hours of experience drawing backgrounds so it helps to just generate something.

I use AI to turn the lyrics I have 26 years of experience writing into music via Suno.com because I make music of hundreds of different genres and for hundreds of different reasons and I nor anyone on earth wants to spend my entire fucking life looking for 60 different bands and commissioning them to turn my lyrics I write into a song when I could instead just use AI and make fun catchy songs I can listen to during my streams, and I take commissions to write songs for people too because I believe Lyricists like myself should be able to get paid without having to rely on instrument talent (I have arthritis and can't keep a beat due to mental disabilities) or hiring other band members. Independent Lyricists are artists too and deserve to be paid for their work just like any other artist and I think "You used AI so you don't deserve to be paid" is far more harmful to artists trying to make a living than AI "taking away jobs" is.

And, I am strongly of the opinion that "If you use AI you're supporting art theft" is as retarded a statement as "If you own a gun you support school shootings."

I am in support of generative AI. It exists, there's nothing you can do about it, and you can either learn to adapt this new absolutely extraordinary tool that can help artists and their commission clients into your art routine, or you can continue bitching about it and boycotting the artists you claim you're trying to protect.

Because for all the times you say "AI is taking jobs away from artists," the only jobs I've seen taken away from artists is anti-AI activists getting artists fired or getting their PayPals frozen or making "Please unfollow this artist" callout posts to destroy that artist's career.

YOU are taking jobs away from artists, not AI. AI has opened the door for a MASSIVE amount of artists of lower skill levels to be able to make money off of their art much more easily and YOU are trying to get their careers destroyed by being anti-AI.

Not you specifically.

I mean "you" in a generalized manner.

Since adopting AI into my art to help with backgrounds, my art has improved dramatically and my workflow has improved in rapidity. I am making commissions much more frequently with much higher quality. I have been able to generate music, making an entire album for a singer character of mine (Yumi Pop) which will be a full physical album release that will make me, the lyricist and writer who wrote all the lyrics into a massive psychological horror story told between all the tracks, a fair bit of money when the album is released. I am living proof that AI can help artists improve and form their careers while everyone is just so fucking convinced AI is "harmful to artists."

Bitch it's literally pulled me out of debt already. I literally erased my PayPal debt by utilizing AI, how the fuck is it taking jobs from artists? It like basically gave me super powers you dumbshits.

AI is not harmful to artists, AI helps artists.

Y'all are so hung up on hating it that you don't realize how much of a golden ticket it is to creating a new era of art.

Of COURSE it's shitty if you just type in a prompt and generate a full picture and say you made it, same goes for literally fucking anything.

Photographers literally just go outside and take a picture of a goddamn tree in nature and they make $300,000 selling that picture to a magazine. Drake is the biggest singer in the world and he uses samples for his background music and Autotune for his voice.

MODERN ARTISTS TAPE A BANANA TO A WALL AND MAKE 100,000,000 DOLLARS OFF OF IT, AND ARREST THE GUY WHO EATS THE BANANA BECAUSE HE DEFACED THEIR ART.

AND Y'ALL STILL HUNG UP ON AI WHILE IGNORING ALL THAT.

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