#so right now I’m trying to prioritize my stories

[local-dragon-haunt]

hey! i’m an artist and i was wondering what about the httyd crossover art made it obviously AI. i’m trying to get better at recognizing AI versus real art and i totally would have just not clocked that.

Hey! This is TOTALLY okay to not have recognized it, because I DIDN'T AT FIRST, EITHER. Unfortunately there’s no real foolproof way to distinguish real art from the fake stuff. However I have noticed a general rule of thumb while browsing these last few months.

So this is the AI generated image I used as inspiration. I will not be tagging the account that posted it because I do not condone bullying of any type, but it’s important to mention that this was part of a set of images:

This is important because one of the BIGGEST things you can use to your advantage is context clues. This is the thing that clued me in: right off the bat we can see that there is NO consistency between these three images. The art style and outfits change with every generated image. They're vaguely related (I.E. characters that resemble the Big Four are on some sort of adventure?) and that's about it. Going to the account in question proved that all they posted were AI generated images. All of which have many red flags, but for clarity's sake we'll stick with the one that I used.

The first thing that caught my eye was this???? Amorphous Blob in the background. Which is obviously supposed to be knights or a dragon or something.

Again, context clues come into play here. Artists will draw everything With A Purpose. And if what they're drawing is fanart, you are going to recognize most of what you see in the image. Even if there are mistakes.

In the context of this image, it looks like the Four are supposed to be running from these people. The thing that drew my attention to it was the fact that I Didn't Recognize The Villains, and this is because there is nothing to recognize. These shapes aren't Drago, or Grimmel, or Pitch, or any other villain we usually associate with ROTBTD. They're just Amorphous Blobs that are vaguely villain shaped.

Which brings me to my second point:

Do you see the way they're standing? There is no purpose to this. It throws the entire image off. Your eye is drawn to the Amorphous Villain Blobs in the background, and these characters are not reacting to them one bit.

Now I'm not saying that all images have to have a story behind them, but if this were created by a person, it clearly would have had one. Our group here is not telling a story, they are posing.

This is because the AI does not see the image as a whole, but as two separate components: the setting, and the description of the characters that the prompter dictates. I.E. "Merida from Brave, Jack Frost from ROTG, Rapunzel from Tangled, and Hiccup from HTTYD standing next to each other"

Now obviously the most pressing part of this prompt are the characters themselves. So the AI prioritizes that and tries to spit out something that WE recognize as "Merida from Brave, Jack Frost from ROTG, Rapunzel from Tangled, and Hiccup from HTTYD standing next to each other".

This, more times than not, is going to end up with this stagnant posing. Because AI cannot create, it can only emulate. And even then, it still can't do it right. Case in point:

This is not Hiccup. The AI totally thinks this is Eugene Fitzherbert. Look at the pose. The facial structure. The goatee. The smirk. The outfits. He's always next to Raps. Why does he have a quiver? Where's Toothless? His braids? His scar??

HE HAS BOTH OF HIS LEGS.

The AI. Cannot even get the most important part of it's prompt correct.

And that's just the beginning. Here:

More amorphous shapes.

So these are obviously supposed to be utility belts, but I mean. Look at them. The perspective is all off. There are useless straps. I don't even know what that cluster behind Jack's left arm is supposed to be.

This is a prime example of AI emulating without understanding structure.

You can see this particularly in Jack, between his hands, the "tassels" of his tunic, and the odd wrinkles of his boots. There's just not any structure here whatsoever.

Lastly, AI CANNOT CREATE PATTERNS.

Here are the side-by-sides of the shit I had to deal with when redesigning their outfits. Please someone acknowledge this. This killed me inside. THIS is most recognizable to me, and usually what I look for first if I'm wary about an art piece. These clusterfuck bunches of color. I hate them. I hate them so. much.

Anyways here's some other miscellaneous things I've noticed:

Danny Phantom Eyes

???? Thumb? (and random sword sheath)

Collarbone Necklace (corset from hell)

No Staff :( No Bow :(

What is that.

So yeah. Truly the best thing to do is to just. study it. A lot of times you aren't gonna notice anything just looking at the big picture, you need to zoom in and focus on the little details. Obviously I'm not like an expert in AI or anything, but I do have a degree in animation practices and I'm. You know. A human being. So.

In conclusion:

(Y'all should totally reblog my redesign of this btw)

[apollyonsdarksecrets]

Knight in Cowboy boots

Joel Miller x Fem!reader

Summary: emotions and buried feelings are reviled when Joel protects you from a drunk ex boyfriend

Warnings: SMUT (Minors DNI 18+ ONLY), Friends to lovers, pre-outbreak, alcohol, fighting, swearing, blood, fingering, p in v (unprotected), cream pie, pet names, maybe one Y/n I tried not to use any because I know some people don’t like it.

Word count: It’s long boo, lmao.

A/N: Y’all tumblr has some kind of hold on me because I read one Pedro Pascal fic and now I want him to pin me to the bed and have me call him daddy 😭 #hornyonmain if you like this check out my other stories for more spicy fun 🥰

Joel Miller Master List

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“I don’t know Sally, I just… how did I not see it? Everything was great, at least I truly thought it was…” You sigh, slumping back further into your friends couch, swirling the wine in your glass.

“I knew there was something wrong with him! He always seemed so sleazy.” Sally scoffs, crossing a long leg over the other, shaking her dirty blond hair.

“Your husband is the one that set me up with Michael.” You retort, propping your chin on your hand with a sigh, you stare out the window, the party in the house was at its peak, people from around the neighborhood mingling, laughing, and sharing a good time as you and your life long best friend discuss your most recent disaster at dating.

“I never said he was a smart man.” You snort, shaking your head when movement outside catches your attention. Your eyes widen slightly, spine straightening as you catch sight of your older neighbor walking towards the house. His hands are shoved into his pockets, head tilted down slightly as he walks. He only peaks up when he reaches the walk way, face illuminated in the moonlight.

Joel Miller. The man you’ve not so secretly pinned for since moving to this neighborhood two years ago.

Your head whips around to Sally, “You didn’t tell me Joel was coming!” You gape at your friend who just shrugs a thin shoulder, taking a sip of her drink with a mischievous smirk tugging at her lips.

“I didn’t?”

Of course Joel would be invited, he’s known Sally and Tim since they moved here and had become fast friends with the couple. You begin to fidget with your outfit, regretting wearing something so basic as you tug your top down slightly, displaying more of your assets. Sally snorts beside you. “To much?”

Before she can answer her husbands loud laugh fills the air followed by the clinking of beer bottles and other guests raised voices in greetings. You turn just as the two men walk through the living room’s archway and smile brightly when Joel’s chocolate eyes land on yours. “Hey there.”

“Hey there yourself, haven’t seen you around in a hot minute darlin’.” His draw makes something inside you tick, cheeks tinting pink as the two men sit in the arm chairs opposite of you and Sally.

“You know me, hard work no play.” Joel laughs at that, tilting his beer to his lips and you force your gaze to your glass, trying and failing to not look like you were checking him out as he stretches his long denim clad legs out in front of him.

“How’s Sarah?” Sally asks, giving you time to collect yourself, the sight of the man almost always turning you into a fumbling school girl.

“She’s good, over at a friends house right now.”

“Oh so it’s just you tonight?”

“Just me.” Joel doesn’t look to Sally when he answers, eyes trained on your flushed face drinking you in.

You all spend the next hour talking about work, life, family, all the minor things in between. It’s great, you’ve missed your friends, work prioritizing most of your free time more often than not, that you never have time for simple things like this.

“I’m going to pour myself another glass, does anyone need anything?” You ask as you stand, a simultaneous no resonates from the group, Joel smiling at you with a tilt to his head that makes your knees weak.

You find the kitchen deserted, everyone either out back enjoying the table top fire or have already left for the evening. You’re humming a tune to yourself, picking through the numerous bottles for something that looks good when an arm snakes around your waist.

Nearly jumping out of your skin you push the offending appendage away and spin around, coming face to face with your now ex-boyfriend Michael.

He definitely wasn’t invited.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You hiss, stepping away only to collide with the counter top.

Michael laughs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. His normally styled blond hair is tussled, blue eyes glazed over as he leers down at you. “Um, partying?” HIs words are slurred and he stinks of alcohol, your nose scrunching at the pungent smell.

“This isn’t that kind of party, and I don’t believe anyone invited you.” You glare up at him, nearly a foot of distance makes him taller and easier for him to crowed into your space when he takes a wobbly step closer.

“A party is always an invite. You know that sugartits.” The nickname makes you cringe, the feeling of being trapped between a drunk and a hard spot making you antsy. You and Michael dated for just under a year, everything was fine, fun, romantic even until his secret habit of getting too drunk and sticking his dick into anything with a nice set of tits came to light.

“You’re drunk, how the hell did you even get here? No no i don’t want to know, just get away from me and go home.” You move to push past him, anger and resentment bubbling in your guts, but the man in front of you has another idea.

“Who the fuck do you think you are talking to me like that?” Michael grabs your wrist, twisting until you yelp in pain. “You’d think after being with me for so long, you’d learn a little bit of respect, woman.” He shoves you into the counter, your side hitting the granite so hard you lose your breath. “Do I need to teach you a lesson?”

Fear takes root deep in your chest, freezing you to the spot as Michael's hand raises above his head, ready to strike you when a booming voice fills your ears, stopping him in his tracks.

"HEY!"

Michael's head whirls around, his grip lessoning, to find Joel and Tim standing in the doorway, Sally peeking from behind their shoulders.

“Back off man, we are having a private conversation.” Michael spits, teetering on his feet. Everything is tense and silent for a second, Joel’s eyes lock with yours, fear so clearly written across your face, and that’s all he needs.

The older man storms forward, arm back, and swings for Michael’s face, a direct hit that sends your ex stumbling backwards, freeing you as he covers his bleeding nose. You run to Sally’s open arms, and Joel doesn’t stop swinging, barely giving Michale time to react before he’s on the floor.

You’re crying, yelling for Joel to stop as Tim and another man rush forward, struggling to separate the two as a crowd forms at the patio door. By the time Joel is hauled away, the man lays limp on the ground, groaning unintelligibly. Joel's face is red, chest heaving, staring at Michael below him, shaking off the two men holding him.

“I see you around her again and it will be the last fucking thing you do.” Joel’s voice is haunting, sending shivers down your spine.

You push away from Sally, grabbing onto Joel's shirt with shaky fingers. He turns to you, the look of hatred melting into concern. "Are you okay?"

"Am- Am I okay?" You ask incredulously, eyebrows pinched.

“I think y’all should go, I’ll get him out of here just…” Tim is rightfully upset, hands in his hair as he stares down at his friend, blood splattered across the white tile of the kitchen, and the rest of the guests are visibly tense.

“I’m sorry Tim… it had to be done.”

Tim sighs, nodding but says nothing more. Joel nods back, flexing his hand by his side, before taking your arm turning you towards the door.

“Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Is… Is your hand okay?” It’s the third time you’ve asked since getting to your house, this time peeking around the bathroom door with a cup of coffee for him. Joel insisted on cleaning himself up instead of your request to take him to the ER, when you saw how bloody and bruised his knuckles were.

“I’m sure darlin’. Don’t fret over me.” He holds up his hand, still bruising but no longer bleeding, wagging his fingers, showing you he’s alright, before wrapping some gauze and tape around it. You lean into the door frame, staring at the steam drifting up in front of you.

“I… I can’t thank you enough for what you did, Joel… I don’t know how I can repay you.” You feel meek and miserable for what happened, that anyone would get into a fight over you. You keep thinking about how you should of prevented it, instead of letting it go that far. “I’m so sorry it got to that point, I should have done something.”

Joel leans in beside you, brushing his fingers against your shoulder, gaining your attention. You glance up, caught off guard by how close he suddenly is, eyes warm and inviting like the heat radiating off of his body, this close you can see the gray streaks starting to pepper his hair and the lines of crow's feet by his eyes. “Don’t talk like you caused any of this. I’d do it again if it meant keeping you safe.”

Your heart flutters, a small smile twitching your lips as you dip your head again. “What a knight in shinning cowboy boots you are.” Teasingly, you poke his chest, unable to bring yourself to meet his gaze. Joel just smiles, taking the cup from your hands and turning to set it on the bathroom counter.

“I thought knights usually get a kiss for saving the damsel in distress.” His hand cups your cheek fully, tilting your head back up until you're forced to meet his eyes, his words sinking into your body, popping off your nerves like fire, setting you ablaze.

“That only happens in fairytales.” You breathe, relaxing into the stroke of his thumb along the apple of your cheek, watching his eyes dance back and forth between your own. Joel leans farther in, noses a hair width apart.

"How’s this for a fairytale?" His whispers all since of thought lost as he press forward, brushing your lips against his in the most tentative kiss that you barely registers it. You smile though inviting and wanting, and his hand slips to the back of your head drawing you deep.

Your eyelids droop, hands coming to rest on his chest, leaning in closer as heat coils low in your stomach, arousal swimming through your blood making you groggy and tipsy. His lips mold to your own perfectly, maybe a little chapped, the stubble of his beard bristling at your skin causing you to whimper. Joel pulls you further into the bathroom, leaning back into the counter bodies flushed as your hands slip to his neck, holding yourself to him.

In this moment it’s just you and him, the party is forgotten, the fight, the fear, the fucking blister on your ankle from walking two blocks in heels, is all forgotten. Joel doesn’t even care when he grips your waist with his injured hand, the gauze pulling tight across the cuts, scratching his palm, irritating and relentless but far out of his mind.

The kiss slowly turns more desperate, your fingers tangling into the hairs at the back of his head, his hips pressing against your own, and when he pulls away for air you’re kissing his jaw, his cheek, his neck, having waited two years you weren’t passing up the opportunity now.

Joel groans softly, eyes pinched, need shooting through his body with every open mouth kiss you place. He wraps his fingers in your hair, tugging your head back gently earning a whimper of disappointment. You look up at him, eyes glazed over, arousal humming through your body so fiercely you think you might cry.

“Let me take you to bed, I ain’t waited this long to fuck you in a bathroom.” Your breath catches on a moan, a glimmer of defiance shooting through you as you eye him up and down. You can never make it easy for yourself.

“The bathroom is where most house hold accident happen.” You snip back, beaming as he rolls his eyes, the corner of his mouth lifting in a suppressed smile.

“Why did I punch a guy for you again?” Your bark of laughter sends him over and he’s walking you out of the bathroom into the hall. “Bedroom.” You point over his shoulder and he’s lifting you off of your feet, wrapping your legs around his middle.

“B-because you were protecting my dignity?” You giggle, grabbing his face and peppering kisses across his lips and cheeks. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Joel smile this much, your heart feeling like it might burst just from the sight.

“Dignity… right.” He stops at the foot of your bed with a cheeky look that makes you raise an eyebrow.

“What are you thinking?”

His response is hoisting you higher before dropping you, unceremoniously onto the bed with a loud screech. “Joel!” You’re laughing, trying to scold him and failing miserably.

Joel climbs onto the bed above you, fitting himself between your legs and caging you, forearms resting on the mattress by your head. Your laughter sticks in your throat, heart rate picking up as the reality of situation settles over the two of you. “I can always take you to dinner first.” He jokes, hoping secretly that isn’t what you’d want.

“If you make me wait one more day Joel Miller I swear I will have a conniption.” You mock threaten wagging a finger in his face. He smiles, taking your hand and kissing your wrist gently.

“I’ll give you what you want baby.” His teeth nip your skin, staling your breath making your thighs squeeze his. “Yeah, I’ll give you what you want.” He breaths against your skin, goosebumps lifting the hairs on your arms.

You whimper slightly, breathy and thin, hooded eyes watching as he kisses up your arm and to your neck, forcing your head back so he has more room. He bites gently at your sweet spot, gauging how you react, which movement, kiss, or bite draws the most noise from your lips.

“Joel… mmmm…” Your hands slip under his shirt nails leaving a trail of red up his back that has his hips bucking slightly, groaning into your ear.

“Gonna be the death of me pretty girl, ya know that?” He asks, voice laced with arousal, leaning back to look at you under thick lashes as he bucks his hips against yours.

All you can do it whimper in response, bringing your lips to his and kissing him messily, all teeth, and spit like you both are horny teenagers all over again. Joel’s tongue slips into your mouth, taking dominance over your own and it makes you let out a noise that will be seared into Joel’s brain for the rest of his life.

He breaks away suddenly, ripping his shirt over his head and you’re following suit, shimming out of the tight material letting it fall to the floor as your hands find the expanse of his chest. He has defined muscles, years of manual labor under his skin that makes your mouth water, his body just a little softer with age but an underlying strength you’ve already witnessed twice tonight. The man is gorgeous.

“Need you Joel… please I need you.” You beg, trailing your hands down to his jeans tugging at the rough material, earning a chuckle.

“We’ve got all night, darlin. No need to rush.” He scolds mockingly, his own fingers working at the button of your skirt, yanking it over your ass and down your legs. He stops to take you in, hands pressing your hips down, thumbs brushing over the elastic of your simple black cotton panties. “Fuck… you’re beautiful.”

And you’re spinning in drunken bliss from those two words, Joel Miller thinks you are beautiful.

“Up.” He commands and who are you to say no? Your panties join the pile, bra following shortly after, until you are laid out, bare and vulnerable before him.

And Joel takes his time, thorough with his exploration, caressing your body with burning hands. His palms cup your breasts, tweaking your nipple gently, watching your reaction for what feels the best before moving on. Hands smooth down the valley of your soft stomach, kneading your flesh, making you shiver and squirm.

“Don’t go running away from me now.” He whispers, cupping your ass and dragging you closer, legs spread wide over his hips. You keen, the apex of your desire pulsing from being manhandled to where he wants you, and Joel notices with a dark smirk.

His hands slip down the inside of your thighs and you hold your breath, desperate to feel him touch you where you want him the most. And when he does, callused thumb swiping through your soaked lips, your back bows, eyes closing as a near pornographic moan flys from your mouth.

“J-Joel…” you gasp, his thumb circling your clit before dipping back down pressing into your opening. “Ah… please… please…” Bucking your hips you search for more friction, whining into the air head pressing into the mattress.

“Such manners.” You whimper louder as the muscles in your stomach tighten, catching your lip between your teeth. “Does that mean you’re gonna be a good girl for me? Do as I say?”

“Yes… yes, I’ll be good, Joel.” You whine, warm embarrassment filling your belly, hands curling into the blankets below you. Joel smiles watching your hips twitch as he swipes his thumb back up circling your clit again before sinking a thick finger into your heat, your slick walls clamping around him. The moan you let out goes straight to his cock, making it twitch and push against the confines of his jeans.

“Yeah… I know you will be.” He whispers, adding another finger, pumping into you slowly, curling his fingers searching for that mark that will have you melting underneath him. “So tight baby, have to stretch you out if you wanna take my cock.” He presses his hand down on your stomach, trapping you as his thumb rubs circles into your clit, his fingers working faster and you mewl and cry his name, punctuated with a few ‘yess’ and ‘please’

Joel hits a spot deep inside your gummy walls that’s leaving you breathless, pussy starting to spasm as he draws you towards your orgasm faster than you’ve ever experienced before. He keeps that same pace, flexing his fingers, hurtling you towards the peak of your orgasm.

“Don’t stop! Please don’t stop!” You beg, eyes shut tight, knuckles white, body flushing with white heat, making your jaw go slack, thighs shaking uncontrollably as you teeter on the edge.

He leans over you, warm breath against your lips, thumb working your clit harder. “Cum for me darlin, soak my fingers. Take what you want.”

And your body obeys, the band snapping in your stomach making you cry his name. He keeps his steady pace, marveling at the pink straining your checks and chest, the clench of your cunt around his fingers, and the way you say his name like a prayer. Joel is completely wrapped.

“Good girl, that’s right baby.” He whispers, coaxing you through your orgasm only relenting when you whimper wiggling your hips to try and get away. He brings his fingers to his lips, sucking your release from his skin with a groan. “You taste so much better than I ever imagined.”

You’re only able to whine a soft response, languid and docile below him. It’s only when you hear his zipper do you open your eyes. “There she is.” He’s kicking off his pants and boxers, your eyes drop to his cock stiff and angry red, your mouth flooding with spit, lifting your head to take in the view before you. He’s big, big and thick with a bed of black hair at the base, a bead of precum already leaking out of his tip and you’re stomach tightens in delight.

“You’re handsome.” Your voice is hoarse laced with ecstasy and foreign to your own ears.

His eyes widen slightly before he smiles, tan skin blushing. You reach for him then, hands slipping behind his neck and dragging him down into a deep kiss, stealing his breath and groaning at the taste of him and yourself mixed together.

Joel’s arm slips under your shoulders, his bandages hand cradling the back your head as his hips rut into your own. You gasp against his lips, the tip of his cock nudging your sensitive clit, your warm release coating him making him groan. “D’ya… do I need to grab somethin’?” He mutters, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I-if you wanna, I’m … I’m on the pill though and I’m clean.”

“Fucking Christ.”

Joel angles his hips, the head of his cock slipping to your entrance and nudging forward. You lift your legs, wrapping them around his hips, nails digging into his shoulders as he pushes forward, sinking into you with one slow thrust that has you breathless and reeling at the feeling of being so stretched, so fucking full.

“O-oh God Joel.” You breath, clinging to him. Joel groans, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, the friction and pull overwhelming and yet not enough. “Please… Please Joel.” You’re begging, you want to wake up tomorrow and know exactly who made you feel so good with each step and wince.

Joel just groans, picking up on the rut of your hips and presses down closer, his weight welcoming and restricting all at one. “Hold on to me.” With that he sets a deep, hard rhythm, the head of his cock bruising your cervix with the snap of his hips against your thighs. Your bed creaking with the force he uses to drive himself into you with, your name spilling from his lips.

“Fuck… So good baby, feel so good around my cock.” Joel moans, burying his face in the junction of your neck. He bites at your shoulder, marking the skin making you whine into the air, your breath being punched from your lungs. You can already feel your next orgasm building up inside you, muscles clamping down on his cock making him groan and stutter in his pace.

“So-so good, d-don’t want you to stop.” You’ve been broken down to a pleading mess, your slick coating not only his cock but dripping down onto his balls, and pooling on to the sheets below you. Your nails are biting his skin, leaving crescent idents on his neck and shoulders that he will proudly wear when they bruise over. “M… I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!”

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you pretty girl.” He grunts into your ear, his hands moving down between your bodies to find your clit, pressing tight circles into the bundle of nerves that has you withering below him, heels digging into his ass. Your lips are in that perfect O shape, eyebrows pinched and breathy moans filling your room. Joel sits back, slipping his arm to your lower back and holding you tight as he pounds into you, your hands gripping his arms for any form of leverage.

You scream his name, the sound bouncing off the walls as your orgasm rips through you, seizing ahold of your muscles and washing over your brain making you go blank and stiff in Joel’s hold. your pussy squeezing and milking his cock just right pulling his own orgasm from him with a low growl. He stills, hips twitching as he spills inside you, milky release filling you, warming you and spilling around his cock mixing with your own release.

“Fuck… shit…” Joel’s panting, eyes closed and head tilted back. “Oh baby… you’re gonna fuckin kill me.”

You pant out a small giggle, coming down from your high, thighs still twitching lightly as your brain slowly comes back to you. Joel pulls out gently, a small his through his teeth as he falls onto the bed beside you trying to catch his breath. Cracking open your eyes you stair at your ceiling for a moment, you reach across your sheets, fingers brushing against his.

Joel laces his fingers through yours, bringing the back of your hand to his lips, kissing gently. “That… that was…”

“Amazing.” You chuckle, curling into his side content and tired, body relaxing into his as sleep clouds your mind. Joel hums in agreement, the steadiness of your breathing lulling him to into his own dreamless sleep.

The end

[tsumuus]

The night air was cool as you walked alongside your friends, the lights of Musutafu twinkling in the distance. You were trying to soak in every detail, knowing this would be one of your last nights in Japan. Your time as an exchange student at UA High had been filled with laughter, challenges, and friendships that had shaped you in ways you never imagined. And now, you were heading back to your home country.

Your closest friends had insisted on a farewell dinner. You had spent the evening at a cozy restaurant, sharing stories, jokes, and memories that made you all laugh and reminisce about the past three years. As the night wore on, you felt a growing sense of melancholy, knowing that soon you’d be thousands of miles away from these people who had become like family.

After dinner, the group decided to take a stroll around the city. The streets were alive with energy, and you cherished every moment, imprinting it all in your memory. Eventually, the group stopped at a small park, and your friends dispersed, giving you and Tenya Iida a moment alone.

Iida had always been a pillar of strength and guidance for you. His dedication to his studies and hero training had always been something you admired deeply. As you sat down on a bench, the distant sound of laughter from your friends echoing through the park, you felt a lump form in your throat.

“Iida,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper. He turned to you, his serious expression softening in the gentle light of the street lamps.

“Yes?” he replied, his voice calm and attentive.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “I’ve always felt a certain way about you, something more than friendship,” you admitted, your eyes fixed on the ground. “But I never said anything because I thought you didn’t feel the same. I thought it would be better to keep things simple, focus on our goals.”

Iida’s eyes widened slightly, and he opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. You continued, your voice tinged with sadness, “I meant to tell you so many times, but I never had the courage. And now, it feels like it’s too late.”

A silence settled between you, heavy with unspoken words and missed opportunities. Iida finally found his voice, but it was filled with a quiet ache. “I always felt a special connection with you,” he confessed, his voice low. “But I chose to prioritize my responsibilities, my training… I thought it was the right thing to do.”

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, both filled with a shared longing. “Iida, I-”

He reached out, gently taking your hand in his. “I’m sorry,” he said, his grip tightening slightly. “For not telling you how I felt. For not making more time for us. I always admired your determination, your kindness… I felt something too, but I never acted on it.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and Iida reached out to wipe it away, his touch gentle. “Maybe in another time, another place…” he began, but the words hung in the air, unfinished.

You nodded, a bittersweet smile forming on your lips. “Maybe,” you agreed. The night continued to unfold around you, the distant sounds of the city blending with the quiet moments shared on that bench. You both knew that life was about to change, but for that brief moment, you allowed yourselves to imagine what could have been.

As your friends called for you to rejoin them, you stood up, still holding Iida’s hand. With one last look, you squeezed his hand and whispered, “Thank you, Iida, for everything.”

He nodded, his eyes reflecting the same gratitude and unspoken promise. “Take care, and may your future be bright.”

Just as you were about to turn away, something shifted in the air between you. Iida hesitated for a moment before gently pulling you closer. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away another tear. Your breath hitched as you realized what was about to happen.

Slowly, Iida leaned in, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. When he found none, he closed the distance, his lips meeting yours in a tender, heartfelt kiss. The world seemed to stand still, the kiss filled with all the words left unsaid, the feelings never expressed, and the time that had slipped through your fingers.

It was a kiss that made up for all the lost moments, all the missed opportunities. It was sweet and gentle, yet filled with a depth of emotion that spoke volumes. As you kissed, you felt a mixture of joy and sorrow, knowing that this moment was both an ending and a beginning.

When you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, your eyes closed as you savored the lingering warmth of his lips on yours. “I’ll miss you, Iida,” you whispered, your voice filled with emotion.

“I’ll miss you too,” he replied softly, his voice steady yet filled with the same ache you felt.

With a final, lingering glance, you turned and walked back to your friends, your heart heavy but also lighter than it had been. As you rejoined the group, you knew that this night, and that kiss, would stay with you forever, a precious memory of what could have been and a reminder of the special bond you shared with Iida.

‘and you never knew, how much i really liked you’

masterlist

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

you don't have to answer this if you don't want to but what do you think about Yuu who alr knows Disney and is a bit of a better strategist than canon!Yuu? Like this Yuu would know from the first dream-vision they had that they mirror reality the next day and so whenever they wake up the next day after having these dreams and write down IMMEDIATELY about what happened and try to correlate it as much as they can to reality so they can strategize this way?? Added bonus if they know they're perceived as a weak, helpless magicless student and use it to their advantage so that others constantly underestimate them too!!

Well firstly, I think someone has most likely written this kind of fanfiction before. It’s pretty common to “novelize” the main story but specifically featuring one’s own Yuu variant and/or to do a “fix” or canon divergent story. Not my thing so I just skip over those, but I’m certain I’ve at least skimmed fic summaries of this nature.

Secondly, I don’t think it would make sense narratively (even for a more intelligent and proactive Yuu that has knowledge of Disney lore) to automatically suspect that their dreams correlate with real life events and that they should be alert for parallels. It’s assuming a lot of them, including that they’d have the hindsight before their first dream that their dreams are somehow prophetic. (I’m not counting time travel or time loop theory here, only what we know is canon right now.) That’s not really strategizing then, it’s jumping the gun and assuming that they’re a seer without enough cause to believe in it. Has this happened before to them in their original world? But dreams are rarely ever so closely associate with the things playing out 1:1 in the waking world. Why would Yuu develop this belief then??? I think they’d realistically start putting the pieces together maybe book 3 because 1 time (book 1) may just be coincidence + they wouldn’t be suspicious of anything, 2 times (book 2) is establishing a pattern, and then 3 times (book 3) would be enough times to firmly establish said pattern. It wouldn’t happen right off the bat.

I also feel like this kind of Yuu would not work for the current (canon) story TWST wants to tell. Having all of this information and/or going out of their way to prevent things from happening because of their foresight might just cascade into many events not playing out at all, even if only halfway through the main book. It means they’d be highly wary of many characters and could successfully avoid the pitfalls they glimpse in their dreams. They could seek out the ��villains” of their dreams, deduce the issue, smooth things out sooner, prevent OBs altogether. Very, very different events might play out. (And if the main story manages to stay roughly the same in spite of all the measures this Yuu takes, then what was the point of telling it all with this intentional smarter and more actionable Yuu to begin with???) Diverging from canon happens all the time in fan creations, as I’ve said earlier—and again, there’s nothing wrong with this. I just don’t know of this would “work” with the current set up without deviating considerably at a certain point.

As for Yuu being perceived as a “weak, helpless magicless student” who “uses it to their advantage so others underestimate them too”… I feel like this is already done in canon, but very subtly and definitely relies a lot on player interpretation of what “kind” of Yuu they want to be. It’s already implied that Yuu is the strategist for battles, so they offer support in this way. Additionally, many characters recognize them for talents which lie beyond their magicless status. This includes the headmaster, who declares that Yuu has the makings of a beast tamer, and Rook, who gives Yuu the nickname “Trickster” for their cleverness. I believe that Yuu was even chosen to go for the harp in Beans Day because Jade was aware that the Monsters would underestimate Yuu and prioritize going after him, who is the more obvious threat. The world and its characters seem to constantly be telling us about Yuu’s strengths outside of a magical context, but they leave how Yuu actually makes use of their helplessness open ended for players to project as they like onto them.

It’d definitely be interesting to see a Yuu that leans into and plays up their weaknesses, but I also think that it would require a skilled writer to successfully pull that off. If not done well, the Yuu may come off as more whiny/desperate or too pompous and locked in their own self-aggrandizing head space. Maybe we’ll get a Yuu that strategizes with their deliberate helplessness in a future installment of the manga? Could be interesting!

[moodandmist]

✨😻😘SIX SENTENCE SUNDAY😘😻✨

Ahhhhh, Hello friends!! I miss you all so much. I wanted to be with you today in this little way. I think I'm realizing more and more that one of the best things we can do for our creative pursuits is to keep in community with friends, cheering each other on. I'm trying to prioritize being here again.

Do any of you struggle with not knowing which writing genre to focus on??? Like say you've written some things that you like but are like...do I put this in a fanfic? Do I save it for an OC story?? Do I turn it into a book of poetry and prose? What if I use it now but then it would have been better saved for this other thing in the future?!

I find that terrifying and I'm feeling really kind of frozen right now. Anywho. Thoughts on how you move past that??

So here is a short thing (I didn't count sentences, I think we've given up on that, right?)...I'm writing a lot of vignettes lately that (see above) I'm not sure where I will put them ultimately. But well, they are all about sex and intimacy and love and connection and fear etc etc so.

So sexy type thing below the cut. Sending tons of love to you all and hoping you are feeling creatively energized and if not, let's help each other get there and stay there! <3

At 4 a.m. I’m awoken by the sound of their breathing and the soft rasp of their hand moving, chasing their need. I turn, sleep-slow, toward them; a planet turning toward the sun, called to warmth. I lie in stillness and watch the rise of their chest, their shoulders, every curve illuminated in the diffused light of pre-dawn. 

In this moment I want something like cradling them and something like driving them to the edge of madness. To both soothe them and watch them bleed, and to taste it.

In the end they sense my eyes on them and reach for me, sure fingers wrapping around my wrist, drawing my hand to them. Time is slow and I move with honey in my bones.

We’ve entered some plane of existence outside of life in the city. Life beyond this small room has paused, no sounds of sirens, every car stopped, the entirety of the city holding its breath.

******

Now what are you all doing?!? @fatalfangirl @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @whatevertheweather @bookish-bogwitch @skeedelvee

@artsyunderstudy @facewithoutheart @cutestkilla @ivelovedhimthroughworse @aristocratic-otter

@ileadacharmedlife @thewholelemon @raenestee @creepyspice @confused-bi-queer

@jbrrring @johnwgrey @palimpsessed @captain-aralias @stardustasincocaine

@martsonmars @gekkoinapeartree @whogaveyoupermission @shrekgogurt

[obeymeshallwedateaddict]

Hey.

First.

I love all your writing, they r fun to read and they make my day brighter ✨✨

Really Appreciate it.

Here is the request:

I wanted to request Solomon

We all know that his an old man ( whom we love so much ) and his based off the character from the Bible king Solomon.

If Solomon having 700 wives were true what would it be like

If MC and Solomon end up arguing over something stupid, MC just goes," Then am one of your collections to ? That's all I am to you! Right" something like that 😭

That line was horrible but something along those lines

It can be angst and fluffy.

Thanks a bunch! Wishing you an amazing day ahead!

Heyyy I absolutely love your request cuz duh. They make Solomon and the others seems like there was nothing before MC which is unlikely. Like I mean I'm pretty sure all of them had a few relationships before MC at some point or another. Anyway. Enjoy!

Author's note: I'll be posting short stories for the next few days since I'm working on a bigger story this time which will take a while. Hope it's not a problem.

Contains: Angst/Fluff

GN!MC x Solomon

You can find more of my work here: Masterlist

---

MC and Solomon had agreed to spend the evening together—just a quiet, uninterrupted night. But Solomon ended up running late, engrossed in some old spell or magical artifact he was researching, losing track of time. By the time he shows up, MC’s already feeling hurt and dismissed, thinking he prioritizes ancient things over their relationship.

MC: arms crossed, eyes narrowed as Solomon finally enters the room “Oh, look who finally decided to show up.”

Solomon: sighs, looking tired but trying to be calm “MC, I told you, I lost track of time. It happens. You know how important my research is.”

MC: “And I thought we were important too, Solomon. I’m not asking for much, just…a single night where I don’t feel like I have to compete with some dusty book or enchanted artifact.”

Solomon: growing defensive, a slight edge to his tone “It’s not a competition, MC. You’re acting like I’m choosing my work over you on purpose.”

MC: voice raising slightly, hurt “Well, that’s how it feels! You make these promises, but when it comes down to it, I’m always the one waiting. Why is it so hard for you to just…be here?”

Solomon: frowning “I’m here now, aren’t I? I don’t see why this has to be such a big deal.”

MC: glares, feeling even more hurt by his dismissive tone “A big deal? Maybe it wouldn’t be if this didn’t keep happening. You say you’re here, but half the time, I feel like I’m just a…just a side note in your never-ending list of priorities.”

Solomon: sighs, crossing his arms defensively “MC, I care about you, but I also have responsibilities—things that existed long before we ever met.”

MC: hurt, finally snapping “Oh, here we go—‘long before we met.’ That’s just it, isn’t it? This isn’t even about tonight; it’s about me realizing that I’ll never be more than one part of your centuries-long collection!”

Solomon: taken aback, not expecting that turn “What? Collection? MC, where is this even coming from?”

MC: “You probably don’t even see it, do you? How easy it is for you to just…move on, like I’m just another person you’re adding to the archive of your life. You’ve had 700 wives, haven’t you? Well, I guess I’m just another one for the record books, huh?”

Solomon: eyes widening in hurt, tone softening as he steps closer “MC, that’s not even fair. Those stories…they’re just stories, memories from lifetimes ago. I don’t know what I’ve done to make you feel like you’re ‘just another one,’ but believe me, you’re not.”

MC: arms crossed, looking away, voice trembling “It just…feels like I’ll never really matter to you. Not when you’ve had hundreds of people pass through your life like it’s nothing.”

Solomon: reaches out, resting a hand on MC’s shoulder, his tone soft and sincere “MC, I know my past seems…well, complicated, but I need you to believe that this is different. You’re not just part of my history. You’re the person I want in my present, and my future.”

MC: sighing, though still a little guarded “Then…show me, Solomon. Prove that I’m more than just a ‘number’ to you.”

Solomon: nodding with a small smile, determined “Every day, if that’s what it takes. I promise.”

[domini-porter]

I Wrote You A Story: Tell Me (Part I)

(Rizzoli&Isles, F/F, rated E for the usual reasons, plus a CW for dub/noncon)

The girlies are fighting! One of those kinds that’s about something a lot deeper than whatever started it; one of those kinds where words stop being useful, and action feels like the only way to get the point across.

(once again: angry!sex and dub-approaching-noncon, so if that’s not what you like, you won’t like this)

(also I’ll put it on AO3 eventually, since it’s kind of begging for another installment as it exists now)(heh)

*********************************************

Maura storms into her office, Jane hot on her heels, grabbing the door and flinging it shut behind her. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

“I need you to control yourself.”

Jane scoffs. “Uh, yeah, because the dead guy’s gonna lodge a fuckin’ formal complaint.”

“No,” Maura says icily from behind her desk. “But I’m considering it.”

Jane’s jaw drops. “What?”

It’s Maura’s turn to scoff. “You came bursting into my morgue during the autopsy I bumped to the front of the line for you, swearing and shouting about how I must somehow be responsible for your search warrant being denied, because I had dinner with your suspect eight years ago, when in reality it’s because you have no evidence. What you’re doing is completely inappropriate and offensive, not to mention it involves a serious accusation about my professional—”

“Oh come off it,” Jane snarls. ”Funny how it’s only ever me acting out of line when it involves some rich asshole you blew on the first date.”

Maura’s face goes white. “Get out.”

Jane freezes. “Maura—”

“Get out of my office.”

Jane looks like she’s going to try for the last word; instead she lets out a derisive huff. Shakes her head. Slams the door behind her so hard the diplomas rattle on the walls.

********************************************

“What are you doing here?” Her scowl is audible. She’s opening the door only as far as the security bar allows. “Shouldn’t you be spell-checking your formal complaint against me?”

“Open the door.”

“You got something to say to me, you can say it from out there.”

Maura’s jaw tightens. “Fine. I was going to see if we could talk through what’s upsetting you, but it looks like you’re still indulging yourself. Should you choose to act like the adult you are—“

The door snaps shut. The scrape of the deadbolt engaging. Maura huffs, considers knocking again, but opts instead to review the draft of her formal complaint as soon as she’s back home. She’d hoped they’d be able to resolve their personal conflict—or at least that Jane would provide slightly more context for why she was so markedly upset—but instead she’s been left even more bewildered and hurt.

Well. If Jane was so insecure that she’d let one dinner nearly a decade earlier be the cause of the perhaps-inevitable dissolution of their friendship, there seemed to be no point in attempting to spare her feelings, or her professional record. Particularly when she’d made such a crass and offensive accusation. It was true that she’d performed oral sex on David after their one date, though she suspected Jane had simply been attempting to insult her; it wasn’t the slight on her sexuality that was upsetting, it was that Jane was once again accusing her of prioritizing her social standing over her professional duties and ethics. That despite demonstrating, over and over again, that she had no loyalty to her class peers—a strong aversion to the majority of them, in fact—it was once again the easy justification for Jane’s own failures and frustrations.

“Maybe if you spent as much time finding actionable evidence against your suspect as you do fixating on my social life,” she mutters bitterly as she wrenches the Prius into gear. “Then maybe you’d stop relying on my connections while also deriding me for having them.”

She stews all the way home. Stews through her post-work vipassana, adding Jane’s intrusion into the time she specifically reserved for clearing and centering her mind to her list of grievances. Stews through making dinner, so irretrievably frustrated that she nearly loses the tip of her thumb chopping the stems off the shishito peppers. Stews through the nicest glass of Merlot she can find in her collection, dumping the rest of the bottle down the drain when it only makes her anger more focused and insistent.

How dare Jane try to hold her life against her. Both the things she can’t control, like her wealth or her last name, and the things she can, like who she spends her time with. That last part is the prickliest, particularly when considering she’d been narrowing down her life to center Jane for so long she can hardly recall what it’s like to have anyone else to think about.

She glances at her watch. Not quite eight o’clock. And maybe Jane has to work tomorrow morning because she’d insisted on cutting corners and blaming her when it didn’t pan out, but it’s Friday night, and Maura only works weekends when she feels like it.

She marches upstairs. Slides herself into a dress she hadn’t pulled off its hanger in nearly three years; from its position on the rack she’d last worn it twelve dates ago. Only twelve dates in three years.

“Can’t hurt Jane’s feelings,” she mutters sourly, examining herself in the full-length mirror. Slides on her favorite open-toed stilettos, the ones she hardly got to do more than look at, given how often she was dropping everything to join Jane at a crime scene.

She carefully applies a deliberately-smudged eye, just a hint of shimmer in the center of the lid. Leaves her lips bare save a slick of clear gloss. Punches in a destination for the cab as she’s slinging her leather jacket around her shoulders.

The driver’s eyes go wide in the rearview mirror. She licks her lower lip, pleased. Slides him a bill as she slides out of the back seat. He doesn’t pull away until she’s past the bouncer and through the door.

She hasn’t been here since it was called Merch, what feels like half a lifetime ago. It’s been half a dozen bars since then—a short-lived sports bar, a nightclub shut down for a number of liquor license violations, another bar catering to college students shut down for the same reasons, another sports bar, a bar that only sold ouzo. Tonight, though, it was back to the sort of place it had been when she’d first encountered it; announcing itself with a pink neon sign reading Hush, the letters in the shape of a pair of pursed lips.

She nods politely to the bouncer as he unclips the pink velvet rope at the door; it’s early enough that a line hasn’t formed, though it’s fairly crowded inside. She glances at the patrons, most of whom are already gazing at her with frank admiration. Despite the variety of possibilities, nobody catches her eye in the same way as she crosses to the bar.

“Evenin’, sugar,” the bartender smirks, resting on her heavily-tattooed forearms. “What’s your pleasure?” Gives her a wink.

“Vodka soda,” she smirks back. “Tall, with a lime.”

“Not from the rail, I’m guessing?”

Maura shrugs. “It’s not the drink I’m here for.”

“Hm,” the bartender grins. “How about we go mid-shelf, just in case she doesn’t come walking through the door right away?”

Maura offers her a wry smile. “Whatever you recommend.”

“Maybe you could tell me a little more about your, uh, preferred taste profile. So I don’t lead you too far astray.”

Maura bites her lip, considering. She hasn’t been here since that case, and of the lesbians she personally knew, none seemed the type to go to this sort of place on a Friday night. Not that she had any particular concerns over being discovered in a lesbian bar while on her own time; it’s just that she did have a strong preference for the type of woman she was hoping to encounter tonight, the specifics of which would undoubtedly raise more eyebrows than her being in here in the first place. And if it got back to Jane—

Another abrupt flush of frustrated anger. “Actually, no. I see you have a bottle of Old Van Winkle up there; I’ll take a shot. Neat.”

The bartender hesitates. “I’m not actually supposed to sell that without permission from the manager.”

Maura sighs. Pulls out her credit card, drops it with a heavy clatter on the bar. “Get it, please.”

“You’re the boss,” the bartender murmurs with a mix of awe and attraction Maura hasn’t been on the receiving end of for long enough that she’s forgotten how potent it is. To get what she wants, because she wants it and because sometimes wanting something is reason enough. Not everything requires a litmus test. Not everything is bad just because money can buy it.

The bartender emerges from the back office—Maura’s breath catching in her throat as she recalls the way every pair of eyes in the place had run appreciatively along her body in its tight corset and short skirt when she’d emerged through that very door herself—followed by a dubious-looking woman in a black tank top, her lean arms folded across her chest. Maura’s breath catches again.

“Eva says you’re interested in a shot of Pappy?”

“I am,” she says, tapping her credit card on the bar. “I’d be happy to run the charge in advance, if that’s the concern.”

“One of ‘em,” the manager nods. Staring at her. Dark eyes sharp and observant. Maura’s pulse quickens. “Did you come here looking to try it, or . . . ?”

“I came here for the reason I imagine most of your clientele comes here,” Maura replies, each word cool, clipped. The manager is precisely the sort of woman she’d come looking for, at least physically. That she was forcing Maura to demonstrate she actually wanted what she said she wanted was stoking up the same flame of ire her anger at Jane had sparked, making her sharper, less amenable than she would ordinarily be while also eliciting a slick of wetness between her thighs. “I saw the bottle, which I assume is there for more than decoration?”

“Special occasions,” the manager volleys back just as sharply, but there’s a shift in the air that makes Maura shift on her stool. Slowly crosses her legs, so that the manager sees her doing it. Maura watches her tongue flick over her lips. “You celebrating something?”

“Not yet,” Maura says guilelessly, though she reaches up to toy with her lower lip as she says it. “Though finding a bar that has a bottle seems like a special enough occasion.”

The manager gives her a long, appraising look, Maura allowing it. Encouraging it. “You have to drink to something,” she says at last, nudging over a footstool to allow her to reach the top shelf.

“What do you suggest?” she purrs, watching as the hem of the manager’s tank top lifts with her arm, revealing a sliver of her muscular abdomen.

“Hmm,” the manager murmurs, setting out a bell-shaped snifter. Giving her a sly smirk. “New friends?”

“Ah,” Maura breathes as the amber liquor ripples into the glass. “New friends.”

*******************************************

“Don’t stop,” she gasps, squeezing her thigh more tightly around the bar manager’s shoulders. “Don’t—oh fuck, just—right there, right—”

She moans, whines as the bar manager, whose name she didn’t bother to get, sucks her clit with single-minded fervor, hands gripping her hips, dress shoved up around her waist as she pants and huffs and twists a fistful of long dark hair, the woman between her thighs groaning, forcing her pussy tight to her mouth, Maura rocking hard and fast against the tongue lapping at her, sucking at her, drawing a shaking, shuddering orgasm from her in what feels like seconds, Maura coming with a strangled yelp, head slamming against the wall of the manager’s office hard enough that she’s hazily aware she’ll have a tender spot, if not a contusion.

She slumps against the wall, breathing heavily, the bar manager dragging her tongue lightly along her still-quivering slit, smirking at Maura’s light whimpers until she shoves her head away. The manager gets to her feet, Maura lapping away the arousal shining on her lips, her chin, before sliding her tongue into the woman’s mouth. Fumbling at the waistband of her dark jeans.

“It’s all right,” the manager says roughly. “You don’t—Jesus.”

Maura’s fingers are between her legs, rubbing in tight, firm circles, before she can finish the thought. “I want to, though,” she murmurs in her ear as her head drops to Maura’s shoulder, bracing herself against the wall as Maura strokes and flicks and teases. “I want to feel you come for me.”

“Fuck,” the manager hisses, her hips jerking and bucking against Maura’s hand, rutting and swiveling. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

She sucks in a breath. “What else?”

“What—uh—what else?”

“Tell me,” she breathes, brushing past the discomfort in her wrist as she thrusts a finger inside, the manager crying out, teeth grazing Maura’s neck. “Tell me how good it feels.”

“Fucking—fucking incredible,” she gasps. “You feel incr—uh—“ She moans. Jerks her hips. “Gonna make me—gonna come, oh shit—”

And she’s whining, groaning, trying not to scream as Maura twists her finger inside, walls hot and wet and rippling as she comes, gushing onto Maura’s palm.

When her pussy stops quivering and contracting Maura withdraws her finger slowly, lifts it to her mouth to suck it clean. “Thank you,” she whispers, smoothing her dress back down. “That was exactly what I wanted.”

“Uh,” the manager gasps, still getting her breath back. “My pleasure.”

“Please feel free to drink the shot yourself,” she says, wiping delicately at the corners of her mouth. “I’d hate to see it wasted.”

She’s back out on the floor of the club, back out on the busy sidewalk before the manager can think to ask for her name. By design; the anonymity was a significant aspect of the entire scenario. She’d even made sure to tap her card, so her name wouldn’t appear on the receipt.

She walks quickly around the corner to call a car back to her house; her abrupt disappearance just as critical as not exchanging names. The orgasm she’d experienced had been adequate, certainly; even good. The bar manager had been close enough to allow her imagination to operate at an even-more-detailed level; gazing down as she’d licked her, hot and eager, meant seeing mostly her dark, wavy hair, her dark eyes.

She’s still angry with Jane, though. Furious, even. Going out had helped, even if now, on the ride back, she has a moment to consider the ethics of what she’d done. Not having anonymous sex in the manager’s office; they’d both wanted that, particularly given how quickly and easily they’d both come. But of seeking out a woman whose physical characteristics matched Jane’s in order to demand meaningless release. Was that—

“No,” she mutters sternly as she disarms her security system. “Jane‘s feelings aren’t a valid consideration here. Yours are the only emotions you are expected to manage.”

She’s doing an acceptable job of it—her pulse and respiration remain relatively steady, at least—until she does her usual phone check before silencing notifications for the night. Nothing new, but in double-checking she’d responded to any urgent texts she brushes her thumb over her thread with Jane. Catches a glimpse of Jane’s last text to her, from that morning.

did u say something to the suspect?

A fresh wave of fury washes over her. Jane had come stomping and cursing into the morgue only minutes after she’d sent the message; Maura hadn’t even seen it.

Oh, Jane, I’m nearly finished with—

What the hell, Maura?

I’m sorry?

I just got a denial on the search warrant for Caldwell’s house.

Oh, I’m—

Did you say something to him?

Excuse me? Jane, what are you—

You two know each other. You go way back, right? Far enough that maybe it might strike you as a good idea to do a little favor—

Jane!

You already told me you don’t think he’d do it.

I said I’d find it surprising, but if he did—

Surprising enough to give him more time to get his story straight?

In my office. Now.

And then she’d been crude. Deliberately hurtful. Even if she’d been correct, at least about the blowjob. She’d meant it as an insult. To dismiss and degrade her.

And then she’d refused to even open her door.

If Maura wasn’t so hurt, so furious, perhaps she’d wonder why Jane had turned on her so abruptly. It wasn’t as though this was the first time they’d been in nearly exactly these circumstances; a murder among Boston’s society set, a suspect someone Maura had encountered in her personal life years earlier. It’s not as though the pool of candidates matching her status was particularly large. Which was, as she’d attempted to communicate to Jane on dozens of occasions, one of the myriad reasons she made an active effort to distance herself from that life. Those expectations.

She is hurt, though. She is furious. And whatever new inscrutable mood Jane’s in, she can work through it on her own.

********************************************

She’s still angry when she wakes up the next morning. Her visit to the bar had calmed the fury enough for her to sleep, but not enough for her to have woken up ready to smooth things over with Jane.

Her ire is only increased when she checks her phone as the coffee brews. A text from Jane, demanding to know why Maura hadn’t emailed the autopsy notes. Sent at 4:47 in the morning, which would indicate she was not only clinging to her unearned anger, but indulging it.

“Fine,” she mutters.

I haven’t finished my final report. You’ll have to wait until Monday.

Throws the phone on the island with a clatter.

She resists the urge to check for a reply. Drinks her coffee while reading the day’s news. She’s just rinsing out her mug when there’s a loud, sharp rap at her door.

Jane.

She sighs, then takes a deep breath to quell the sudden sour lurch in her gut. She could ignore the knock, but given that Jane’s almost certainly been up all night working herself up, she recognizes the need to keep her from doing something that would draw the interest of the neighbors, or the home security company.

She swipes her suddenly-clammy hands on her silk bathrobe. Crosses to the door. Opens it just a fraction. “Yes?”

“Let me in,” Jane demands. She’s wearing what she’d been wearing yesterday. She looks gaunt. Half-wild.

“What do you want?”

“I want my fucking autopsy report, Maura,” she snarls, loudly enough to break the chilly morning stillness. Loudly enough for Maura to swing the door open on reflex, Jane shoving inside.

“I told you, it’s not ready,” Maura says coolly, shutting the door.

“The hell it isn’t. I know you’ve got it. I don’t care if you’ve crossed all the ts and dotted all the is. I need that fucking warrant so I can arrest a murderer, whether you fucked him or not.”

Maura’s face hardens along with Jane’s. “Stop.”

“Stop what?” Jane growls. “Asking you to do your fucking job?”

“You’re being cruel, childish, and unfair,” Maura nearly shouts. “How dare you accuse me of abetting a murderer, of violating all of my professional oaths, just because you’ve got some invented idea of a non-existent relationship.”

“So you didn’t fuck him, is that what you’re saying?”

Maura resists the impulse to snap at her about her language, since there’s no need to provide Jane an opportunity to change the subject. She takes as deep a breath as she can manage. “I’m saying regardless of what I did or didn’t do nearly a decade ago, you have no right to make the accusations you’ve made, and that you’re clinging to this ludicrous story to justify your own failures—”

“My failures?”

“Yes,” she hisses. “The reason you didn’t get your warrant is that you didn’t make a good enough argument for it, which is so far from my fault that I’m honestly baffled, Jane, that you’d attempt to shift the blame to me for any reason, but particularly this reason. Not only is it incomprehensible and unjustifiable, it’s cowardly.”

Jane stiffens as though she’s been struck. “I’m not a coward.”

Maura scoffs. “You’re not? Then tell me you don’t want to run away right now.” She gives Jane a hard stare. “Without lying. If you can.”

Jane just returns her look, dark eyes flashing nearly black as she tries to reassert control over herself, though given the way she’s clenching unclenching her fists she seems to be having difficulty.

Maura should stop provoking her. She knows she should, that she should be de-escalating instead of stoking the flames higher, but she can’t. Not any more. The idea of sacrificing her own sense of justice to appease Jane might have felt tolerable, even preferable at one time, but not this time. She’s tired of backing down to keep Jane from having to face the uglier aspects of her nature, since all that’s achieved is an emotional imbalance, in which the only comfort that matters is Jane’s, no matter what she herself is required to give up.

She doesn’t want to let Jane win any more. Not unless she earns it. “Why are you acting like this,” she says again. Low. Even. “Tell me. Or leave. Again.”

Jane sputters. Stammers. Swipes a hand through her hair. Stares at her like she’s waiting for her to break. To say she didn’t mean it like that. She does, though, and after a beat Jane scoffs. Turns around. Strides toward the front door.

“So much for not being a coward,” Maura mutters. She shouldn’t have, but she wants to see what Jane does. Perhaps it will help explain—

What she does isn’t what Maura anticipated, though it is, she thinks fleetingly, what she’s been waiting for. She doesn’t have time to interrogate the thought, however, since Jane’s whipping around with a hard-eyed snarl. Since she’s crossing back to her so quickly Maura doesn’t have time to react. To dart out of the way of Jane’s hand before it wraps around her neck.

“Wait,” she stammers, but Jane doesn’t acknowledge her, unless the tightening of her grip on Maura’s throat is meant to be her response. Unless the way she forces Maura back until she’s collided with the wall is her response. The press of her body against Maura’s, pinning her tightly.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” Jane’s breath hot against her cheek, making her shiver, making Jane growl low in her throat. “What you want from me?” Her knee between Maura’s thighs.

She just whimpers again, though everything’s happening so quickly, so unexpectedly, that she can’t identify any one thought. Yes becoming no becoming yes again as Jane’s firm thigh presses against her, the pressure, the friction sending a rush of pleasure glittering through her, even as she’s starting to feel no more than yes, Jane’s fingers digging into her throat, Jane’s breath harsh and ragged against her ear, Jane not looking at her. Jane’s free hand fumbling at the hem of her short nightgown.

“Jane,” she manages, just barely. “St-stop, wait—”

She doesn’t. Just squeezes more tightly, her thigh grinding between Maura’s legs sending another hot rush of conflicted arousal through her, making her whimper and writhe, making Jane huff and snarl as she thrusts her fingers into the thick liquid heat, jerking her thigh up at the same time.

“Will you believe me now?” Jane rasps, forcing a finger roughly inside her. “Is this what it takes?”

Another finger. She’s so wet, but it still hurts, because Jane’s trying to hurt her. She tries to cry out but Jane’s pinning her to the wall by her neck and the more ruthlessly she forces her fingers inside the tighter the grip on her throat so all she can manage is a thin whine.

“This is what it takes, right?” Jane hisses again. Maura can feel the heat of her skin, hazily, since everything’s getting a little hazy from the oxygen restriction. From the feeling of Jane’s fingers inside her. Of her clit, rubbing hard against Jane’s palm. Hot blackness at the edges of her vision. “All it takes for you to trust someone?”

Jane punctuates her words with another brutal thrust, one that causes pleasure to spiral through her, making her moan and tighten and rock her hips despite whatever rational part of her is still functioning pleading no, pleading stop, pleading not like this.

She’s aware—attenuated—enough to feel the breath on her cheek, against her ear getting labored and thready, can feel hot pressure against her own thigh, Jane thrusting against her as she thrusts into her, Maura meeting her rhythm as her body takes over, as she succumbs to Jane’s fingers, her heat, her mindless, dominating fury. Whines and gasps and struggles to stay conscious as she starts to quiver and contract, Jane growling, snarling in her ear as Maura comes with a groan and a hard, sharp thrust, one that makes Maura scream, or try to, Jane huffing and grunting and shuddering against her.

Maura doesn’t lose consciousness, to her vague, fleeting relief. That would mean something else, something even darker and more frightening than what had just happened. What’s still happening, since Jane’s fingers are still inside her. Since Jane’s still got her pinned to the wall. Since Jane’s still gasping and jerking through the aftershocks.

“Please,” Maura rasps when Jane’s grip on her throat goes slack. “Jane, please stop, you’re hurting me, pl—”

She cries out as Jane withdraws her fingers as swiftly and as roughly as she’d thrust them inside. Gasps, slumps against the wall when Jane abruptly releases her. Stumbles backward, breathing raggedly. Staring at her now, but her expression is obscure, unreadable. She’s trembling; they both are.

“Get out,” Maura manages weakly, attempting to keep herself from sliding to the floor, at least until she’s alone. “Get out of my house.”

Jane doesn’t say anything. Just stares at her with that unreadable look a moment longer before she draws a shaky breath and bolts out the door.

[therealslimshakespeare]

Ok yeah I’m here for Rosie and Tilly

Aaah well then here, have a blurb:

Warnings: none, utter fluff

Note: wrote this like in style like I’m Steven Ambrose talking about post war shit, don’t mind me

Massive credit to my babes @ab4eva & @crazymadpassionatelove as I literally just flowed our chat screams into fic forum

|| Synonyms 

Tilly would later recount shared breakfasts like that. After the death of their father while away, the siblings prioritized spending time with their mother and often together, Eugene Brady not being as frequent a visitor due to distance.

So for much of their early married lives, having the Rosenthal’s stay over at the childhood home along with Jack and Tilly was commonplace for a weekend reprieve.

During which time old habits resurfaced and Tilly learned new aspects of the impressive Brady siblings she had only seen glimpses of.

At the breakfast table on these weekends, Rosie usually kept to drinking his coffee, open newspaper diligently perused, eyebrow raising every now and again. An amused smile permanently crinkling his eyes.

Tilly took a more active approach at breakfast, often gently laying a hand on Jack's knee, squeezing a warning to stop. He never stopped. Tilly would try going higher.

“Tilly.” Rosie would whisper to her from across the table and then just shake his head, as if to say ‘let them go at it.’

And so the kitchen would be filled with the sounds of mother tinkering at the stove, of Rosie flipping through the paper and Tilly trying to chat about some sale at a store to ignore the feuding siblings who would only get progressively louder and more verbose.

Rosie Rosenthal enjoyed a little blood sports with his eggs, Tilly said.

It was always about some trifling nonsense involving a childhood story the siblings remembered differently. That’s what kept it cute. It never mattered. It never harmed anything, it was forgotten by the time the plates were rinsed. Yet in the moment, both stuck to their version as the right one.

"That's the seventh time you've used 'false’.” Rosie would point out and Jack’s tirade would hiccup briefly, long enough only for his grey eyes to cut savagely over to Rosie, irritation and a just cause making his cheeks bloom.

‘Robert Rosenthal was one of those unfathomable humans who liked to watch arguments’ Tilly told John Hammond; even as in the case of the above, he enjoyed throwing in the occasional synonym suggestion when things were getting rote.

And he always winked at Tilly when he did while slurping coffee. They grew a deep bond, Tilly and Robert. Always there for each other, amused spectators and connoisseurs of a good Brady spat, utterly enthralled with their respective, cunty spouse. One presumes the siblings made it up to them at other times.

“Come to think of it...l believe l've heard this story about a family vacation before...but it didnt take place in Maine?” Rosie would occasionally fully interject, just to throw everything off, “Haven’t you heard this one before Tilly? Rhode Island, parking ticket. Haven’t you heard this one before? Swear I’ve heard this one before.”

[satanicsanity]

Heyy! I’m so happy to see how far you’ve grown! I can’t wait to see more from you. Just remember to take breaks! Prioritize you before anything else. <3

Do you think you could do Wally stealing apples from Howdys store?

I think that would be a funny interaction 😭

Thank you! I'm sorry if my audios have dropped in quality or if I mess up in them, it's just been a bit chaotic lately! Thank you so much!! <3 of course i can do that! Or.. I can try my best at least, haha!

‼️please go support wally's ACTUAL voice actor, @DaFrankiestein!🩷🩷🩷‼️

The art & characters used are by clown/party coffin!🩷Go support them and donate to their Kofi of you can!

Subtitles, wally speaking: [panting/running] oh! Neighbor neighbor!! Okay, Thank God you're here!! Uhh.. Okay! Howdy's chasing me right now! Uhhokay long story, I MAY have, uhm, tooken something.. But uh- okay! Do you mind if just like hide in one of your trees by your house?? [pause] okay! Thank you thank you! [stammer] i- i love you thank you! [Runs]

[archivalofsins]

The thing I love about Milgram is you can easily start to see how responsibility is viewed across cultures through how the prisoners are discussed. This is something brought up through the text through the pairing of Kazui and Amane along with the gap between their ages.

Something the series itself goes out of its way to point out from the beginning.

Q.06 What would you say is the difference between adults and children?

Kazui: Responsibility. Adults can’t just do whatever they want.

Amane: I don’t think there’s a strict boundary. There are adults who act like children just as there are children who are mature like adults.

Through putting their answers to this question together, we can discern a focal point of the story overall. Before it's brought to the forefront by Jackalope.

Responsibility. What it is, what taking it looks like, and who should have to take it.

These answer together to me read as.

Adults have to take responsibility for themselves. Ergo adults do not have the same freedoms or room for error/growth as they did when they were children. However, there is really no difference between people within these age groups as a child can be treated as an adult (adultification) and an adult can be treated like a child (infantilization). Children can behave in ways typically considered adult, while adults can exhibit behavior viewed as childish.

We see Amane's answer reflected in the ways,

Mu: Uses childish language, shifts blame/refuses to take accountability for herself, throws tantrums or pouting fits, spends a good chunk of her first voice drama crying and states she wants her parents.

Futa: Lashes out first to try to dissuade others and give himself a feeling of control over the situation, complain in nauseum, picky eater but critiques others eating habits.

Shidou: Picky eater but discusses the eating habits of others, poor communicator, uncompromising likely to keep trying the same method without changing it- This ties into why he asked to be guilty and his desire to have someone else put an end to him. Unlikely to change his pattern of behavior even if it's shown to be unbeneficial to himself and those around him. As shown through his crime. Stubbornly asserts he knows best anyway even when faced with someone who has seniority.

Such as Kazui. Shown on Amane's birthday after the attacks where he doubles down stating he knows he has other priorities. Kazui even verbalizes that Shidou is pouting when he tells him not to look at him like that.

22/06/27 (Amane’s Birthday)

Kazui: What’s up, Shidou-kun? You’re looking pretty down. I guess you must be tired, I’ve been relying on you a lot lately.

Shidou: Yeah, I just remembered…… today is Amane’s birthday. I’m just getting a bit sentimental.

Kazui: Hmm, it’s unfortunate, but at the moment we can’t worry about that. ……you understand, right? There’s something that you need to do right now. And if you tried talking to her your words definitely won’t reach her. Don’t look at me like that. We’ll just wait until the situation changes. Let’s do our best.

Shidou: Yeah. I’ll do what I can. I can’t have a child making a face like that. Even though we’re “murderers”…… we’re also the adults here.

In stark contrast to Yuno's response to Mu's birthday where Yuno properly prioritizes the dire state the prison is in over celebrating and asks Mu to do the same.

22/07/05 (Mu’s Birthday)

Mu: Hey~~~ Isn’t everyone a bit gloomy lately? I get that this situation isn’t ideal, but you’re really bringing down the mood for my birthday.

Yuno: Haha, surely even you can tell now’s not really the time for something like that right. Nobody’s really in the mood, or rather nobody has time time to deal with something like that.

Mu: Boo, how boring. You seem to be free, you can celebrate for me. Go on, celebrate.

Yuno: Wow, what a pain. I’m reading the atmosphere properly and keeping quiet. Well, you just go and have fun with Haruka. In the corner somewhere so you’re out of everyone’s way.

Yet Shidou despite Kazui's explanation still emphasizes how they as adults shouldn't be letting this situation cause a child to make such an expression, or be unhappy.

Mikoto: Using childish language, whines/throws tantrums when met with opposition or when not given the treatment he believes he deserves, shifts blame/accountability onto other parties, inclined to woe is me behavior even when there are others going through the exact same situation as him.

I won’t forgive you if this is happening to me even though I’m right./ Come to know me as an honest man, eat your words, gulp them down.

Oh also is noted in the text to tantrum by lashing out violently and breaking things when situations don't go his way.

Mikoto : AAAHHHHHHHHHH!! DESTROY EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING!!

Mikoto: [scream] You’re all fucking annoying! I’ll beat you all to death, pieces of shit!!!

It's through all these ways that the Milgram cast supports Amane's initial answer of there being children who act like adults and adults who act like children.

Such is the case with Yuno in comparison to her senior Shidou when it came to prioritizing the severity of the situation they were in over a birthday.

This mindset of Shidou's ends up greatly impacting how he engages with Amane.

At a glance it can appear that he is only projecting how he treated his own family and the children within it onto Amane. Yet it may not only be that. Shidou may in fact be projecting how he wished to be treated as a child on Amane as he may have done with his own children. As this is something that people can end up doing to their kids once having them. Trying to vicariously live out the childhood they didn't have through their kids.

Simply put, he may just really like pancakes, and none of his kids ever really did. I mean, they aren't making pancakes when the wife's there. I'm just saying.

In a lot of ways Shidou could be considered an adult version of Amane.

As he projects on others how he would want to be treated in contrast to how he did get treated. Something that Amane does a great deal as well.

This is something we see her do in her first voice drama when it comes to her reaction to Es' tardiness. Along with the way she attempts dictate her religious beliefs now that she is free of her parents input.

"Okay! I'm kind, so I shall forgive you. That's nice, isn't it? If my parents were in my place, you would have been lectured for another hour."

Amane's stated desires during trial two contrast with the implication of how she was taught in Magic and Purge March. As she was shown very little lenience or acceptance yet says she wants to alleviate the pain and confusion the guilty prisoners were facing.

Her definition of love also conflicts with how her upbringing was portrayed in both of her music videos,

Q.09 What is love to you?

Kazui: Being able to be as you are, and having that accepted.

Amane: All-encompassing, eternal affection.

Though her answer still aligns with the sort of love she states she wanted in Magic. A forgiving love where her apologies were accepted and she was given space to grow/become better. A love where her capacity to develop was recognized along with the fact that growth came through trial and error.

"Will you laugh with me and forgive me? I promise! I can only become a better girl!" - "Even I can say "I'm sorry". Even I have hope I swear! I'm going to be a good girl now! That's it!"

This also plays into Es' assertion that Amane actually did want to be treated like a child in her second trial interrogation.

This web of responsibility all spirals back on the audience and Es. A lot of fans of Milgram have blamed a lot of their actions on the series, the way it progressed, how others talked about it. The blame shifting transcending the work to become and endless bout of finger pointing with no end. Despite from the beginning Milgram through Jackalope blatantly stating,

"Yeah. Milgram leaves how it’s administered up to you. Whether you wanna make it heaven or hell, that’s your call."

Milgram has and always will be what the fans make of it, whether the audience enjoys the series, learns anything from it, or continues engaging with it is fully up to that audience member alone. Just as the ways we engage with it are up to our personal discretion as well.

In this game the audience has the power to vote based on whatever biases they may hold. Yet, with choice comes culpability.

"You can even make a decision on whether you like them or not… just be careful of the consequences, that's not my responsibility."

It's okay to like or dislike but when it's time to reap the consequences who will really be ready to eat what they've grown?

Well, it's not like it's my responsibility to answer that. That's something only time can tell.

[amethystfairy1]

hiya it’s been a hot minute since I sent an ask but I want you to know that I’ve been reading all your stuff for months now, refreshing multiple times a day bc I can’t get enough and I adore everything you write <3<3<3 I think your more recent writing with the darker themes is well done, it adds the perfect amount of angst and stakes to the story, more than vague threats of getting hurt, esp in the under city, but it’s not too much at the same time. Also your newest TT treebark is probs my favorite fic thus far, and treebark isn’t even my favorite ship lmao. It’s so arghhh yesss with Rens acting but Martyn can’t tell nooooo 😭 I REALLY want to know what Ren was thinking that whole time negotiating with the bandits, esp when he finally looked at Martyn bc he could probably hear his cries the whole time and UGH it breaks my heart in a good way. AND MARTYN ACCEPTING THAT REN WOULD DO THIS, AND FORGIVING HIM????? The angst, the FEELS. Stunning. A masterpiece. I start my days checking to see if you’ve posted I’m so obsessed XD. Might have to draw the scene… anyhow. I see you get a lot of requests to write certain ships now bc all the stories r so captivating we just HAVE to know more. But. I hope you don’t feel pressured or stressed about it, make sure to prioritize your own wants first. The quality is worth the wait <3 that said, I’m going insane over Martyn. oH also!!! Ren grabbing the wolf pendant!!!!!! He knows how much it means to Martyn my HEART they’re so AAAaAAaAaaaaA!! And he waited until he was between Martyn and the bandits to attack! To protect him! 🥺🥺🥺 the little details are so sweet I’m dying to know rens thoughts. He probably has the rage of a thousand suns in him after seeing Martyn tied up, hurt, crying, bc they would DARE lay a finger on the only one who protected him, who was nice to him. Just. Tomorrow can’t come fast enough. I’m def gonna draw this. Also side note love the new pfp

Hello!!!! Good to see you!!!!

I'm so glad you're still reading and enjoying my works!

Also very happy to hear you're enjoying the darker themes that have been coming up recently in both TTSBC and TT! You're exactly right, that's exactly the sort of thing I was trying to nail...oh yeah ANGST with Treebark right now!

I mean. If you feel inspired. I would LOVE if you drew this scene. Because like, I have that art you did of Ren asleep on Martyn's shoulder as the cover image to my Treebark fanfic doc 🥹

Thank youuuu I appreciate the thought about not feeling pressured or stressed, I promise I'm not! I know everyone is just excited for their favorite/most compelling storyline to continue! And like I've said elsewhere, I plan to stick to my mantra...when I try to write something I'm not in the mood to write, I burn out and don't feel like writing at all. That's what happened to me the last time I stopped writing, and I didn't post at all for nearly a year. I HATED THAT. So TTSBC and TT is the perfect situation for me! Lots of ships, lots of characters, lots of dynamics, and between the two I can write BASICALLY anything I feel like at any point in time! So yeah! I'll write what I feel like writing in the moment, because that's always when I come up with my best stuff!

THE WOLFS PENDANT YUP GOOD CATCH. Ren's a good guy, he pays attention to that sort of thing 💖

I'm glad you like my new pfp!!! I love it! It's by my same friend who drew my old pfp, but THIS one is of an original character of mine everyone who reads TTSBC is very familiar with and people very scared of, but I assure you, any resemblance to characters previously mentioned is purely coincidental, hypotheticals should be, should be, should be dismissed, and there is no need to be concerned. 😉

Thank you for coming by again!!!

[asordinaryppl]

A3! Main Story: Part 4 - Act 14: DREAM CATCHER - Episode 1: To The Next Season

Ibuki: Hmm… Something’s not right.

Ibuki: What about this angle… Hmm.

Ibuki: (I can’t really decide… I wonder if I can find some inspiration somewhere.)

Ibuki:  …

Ibuki: (Even TikTak has been full of promo videos for theater companies lately.)

Ibuki: Ah, “Get To Know MANKAI Company”?

Ibuki: (MANKAI Company, eh…)

Iv has entered the chat momo: eugh… i probably messed up… Iv: wassup? momo: no… i just got a little carried away… ig Kar: idgi shiki: you’re always free to tell us if something’s bothering you

-

Sakuya in the video: “Thank you very much!”

Masumi in the video: “Thank you very much.”

-

Muku: *dreamy sigh* … The RomiJuli sequel was so good.

Tenma: Thinking back to your debut really does make one emotional.

Kumon: It’s so awesome how you can tell how much they’ve grown as they play the same role!

Yuki: It’s like their growth as actors is linked to their characters’ personal growth.

Kazunari: Pretty much. It’s like there’s some synergy going on~

Misumi: I can’t wait for our “Water Me!” sequel~

Muku: Me neither! I wonder what kind of story it’ll be?

Tenma: We have to show that we’ve grown just as much as the Spring Troupe has

Muku: … Huh?

Izumi: What’s wrong?

Muku: The boy in the audience in this video… Isn’t he Masumi-kun’s fan?

Izumi: Ah, you’re right. That’s Towa-kun.

Tenma: Is that the fan that came to talk to Tsuzuru-san the other day?

Izumi: Yeah.

Muku: So he managed to get a ticket for the first day. I’m glad.

Izumi: He said it’d be his first time watching a performance in a theater, he must’ve been very emotional.

Izumi: (If anything, he was a little too emotional. I’d have never expected him to say what he did…)

[Flashback starts]

Towa: … Tsuzuru Minagi-sensei!! I want you to write a script for my troupe!! Please!!

Tsuzuru: Eh? … EHHHH!?

Tsuzuru: You want me to write a script?

Towa: Yes!

Sakuya: That’s amazing! Have you created a troupe?

Towa: Um, I plan to start creating it from now on…

Izumi: Have you gathered members?

Towa: N-No… I plan to start doing that.

Masumi: In other words, it’s just you right now.

Towa: But I… want to create a troupe just like MANKAI Company!

Towa: When I participated in the Spring Troupe's workshop, I learned a little about how plays are created, and what it feels like to stand on stage...

Towa: And I became more interested in theater.

Towa: And then, when I actually watched the Spring Troupe’s performance in a theater, I was moved in a way I’ve never been before.

Towa: Thanks to the hard work of many people, the play takes on a real form on top of the stage, and the actors truly shine…

Towa: It made me think that I want to stand on that stage as well. I want to try shining the way everyone does…

Towa: This may be too simple, and my way of thinking might be naive, but…

Towa: I feel like fate brought me here, to find what I want to do, and to discover theater!

Tsuzuru: … I see. Fate, huh?

Towa: I’m sorry, this probably seems really stupid to you…

Izumi: Not at all.

Tsuzuru: I’ve also felt this way, so I get it.

Sakuya: I also felt that way when I first experienced theater.

Citron: We totally understand Towa’s feels~!

Izumi: Moments like that do happen. I believe that if you feel like you’re destined to act, then that means you have the talent for it.

Tsuzuru: I understand your motivation, and I’d love to cooperate with you. But when you’re the only member in the troupe…

Tsuzuru: Performing a one-person act as a beginner is pretty difficult, so I’d rather your troupe has at least 4 members.

Towa: I need 3 more…

Towa: … I understand! I’ll find them!

Tsuzuru: Alright. I’ll be waiting.

Izumi: Do your best.

Sakuya: We’ll be cheering for you!

Towa: Thank you very much!

[Flashback ends]

Izumi: (I do wonder how things are going with Towa-kun’s company, but I have to prioritize the Summer Troupe’s performance.)

Izumi: (Our ranking may have improved, but we’re still far from the Fleur Award…)

Izumi: (The new companies are all rapidly gaining momentum, so we need to keep our guard up as we move to 2Q…)

previous episode (act 13) | masterpost | next episode

[symptomsofdeceit]

I WAS IN A SLUMP AND HAPPENED TO SEE YOU GAME ON ITCH.IO AND DECIDED TO PLAY IT. Looking at the description I was 100% I was going to favour Thaumo. Went into the game all like "I'mma pick all the choices for Thaumo, IDC about that blond rando-" And then I played the game and Nalis became my absloute favourite and completely stole the entirety of my heart and I'm bAFFLED.

HONESTLY YOUR GAME SO FAR IS AMAZING! IM IN LOVE, THIS GAME IS NOW STUCK ON MY MIND AND MADE IT TO THE TOP OF MY FAVOURITE GAMES LIST!!! It really helped get me out of that slump I was in and get to work!! I absloutely adored the characters and their psyche. The way you have written Nalis's manipulative behaviour is absolutely fantastic and I'm blown away by how well his gaslighting is in his ending route, I sincerely was questioning if it was him or not until it was confirmed. Not to mention your character designs for them is really eyecatching! I love their animal traits! Speaking of that,,, YOUR WORLD BUILDING FOR THE SPECIES, DISEASE, AND SOCIETY HAS ME HOOKED! What an extraordinary concept you've created, it's so imaginative and fuels my brain with excitement and I can't wait see the next update for the game! Another thing which I feel like may be small, but it goes a long way is letting the player choose a colour they like and applying it to the UI, as well as choosing the backstory, it adds more personalization to the whole game and allows one to get more immersed into the story! You have done a wonderful job and made something so creative and unique in my eyes 💕💕💕

EnouGh gUshing from me otherwise I may not stop, but I have a Nalis question cause I crave Nalis content;

Could we possibly get some Nalis HCs? Either SFW or NSFW?

I’m so, so happy that you enjoyed my demo so much!!!! Really this means SO much to me. I’m also really glad you’ve been able to get out of that slump!!!! This entire message has me staring at my phone like (｡ŏ﹏ŏ)💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

I just started learning how to use Ren’Py for this project, it’s been super fun but the color changing UI (& text changing color to fit it) took me the longest to get right out of everything coding wise lol. I’m glad you appreciate it!!

I’d be more than happy to provide you with some Nalis HCs!! I’m almost finished with his nsfw alphabet & there will be a lot of HCs there. I’ll try to prioritize finishing it tonight or tomorrow if I can!! 🫡🫡

[emilysidhe]

I just finished A Desolation Called Peace by Arkady Martine, the sequel to A Memory Called Empire, and I *loved* them both, but I’m still going to point out a few nit-picks I have with it, in order of petty to significant:

I do love and appreciate Mahit’s prioritizing her need to keep her sense of self as non-Teixcalaanli by refusing to live in the City until she’s certain that her love of its culture won’t consume her. Nevertheless, as a reader I continue to be more stressed out than the text wants me to be about how and when the Stationers’ visa applications are being processed when their sole-ambassador-who-has-no-staff is two months’ space travel away from her office on Teixcalaan. The one line about having her mail forwarded did not help!

A high-tech space empire typified by massive bureaucracy and high education standards that’s made first contact with aliens at least once before *must* have actual, qualified xeno-linguists somewhere in its government or academia. Three Seagrass assigning herself and Mahit to the task of deciphering an unknown alien language basically because she’s bored at her desk job and wants an excuse to see Mahit again is a way bigger deal than the characters or the text ever acknowledge. They are already having a border war with this species and the stakes of figuring out how to talk to them are so high, and Three Seagrass is like, “Well, as a poet, I’m really good at my own language and Mahit must be good at figuring out foreign languages and cultures since she understands ours so well, so that’s basically the same as being an actual linguist right?” No. I understand that taking someone with official qualifications along would have added another original character to an already expanded cast, and undercut Three Seagrass’s already flimsy excuses to drag Mahit into this, and created a third wheel to get in the way of developing Three Seagrass’ and Mahit’s relationship, but if the author wasn’t going to do it, there should have been either a stronger in-universe justification for Three Seagrass and Mahit to have at least no worse chance of success than a real language specialist like the Fleet requested, or a greater acknowledgement of how huge a dereliction of duty deciding to take an unqualified crack at this herself actually was.

Avoiding explicit spoilers, I didn’t like the resolution to the Darj Tarats subplot. Him being present in the final scene felt very contrived and also pointless. I kept wondering why, from a story perspective, he was even there - right up until his final line, which was like, “well, I guess I know why he had to be here for the story now, but I’m not sure this justifies him adding nothing to that whole previous scene.”

Also, why was he there from a character perspective? Like, he tells Dekakel Onchu that he’s going to do something, and then he doesn’t really seem to try to do that, he just - yells at Mahit in front of the Teixcalaanlitzlim like he thinks if he just berates her harshly enough she’ll make the battle go how he wants with - idk, magic I guess? - even though the general he wants her to manipulate is standing right there listening to all this. I get that he’s supposed to be a ruthless and power-abusing man who has spent so long obsessing over one idea for a master plan that he’s lost sight not only of the moral ramifications but also practical questions about whether it would even work the way he envisioned even if his agents obeyed him completely and has nothing left but to take it out on them when they don’t and it doesn’t, but I’m not sure that he’s intended to come off quite as foolish and shortsighted as he ultimately does.

Anyway, despite what it sounds like, I did genuinely love both of these books (somehow it’s easier to list problems than to genuinely enthuse about all the things I loved!), and I’m really looking forward to rereading them in the context of what I now know from having read them and to seeing what else the author writes in this universe.

[autisticempathydaemon]

Hi Lexi! I saw your match ups and I'm curious who you'd match me up with, if you wouldn't mind?

•What song are you fixated on at the moment? What lyric or verse, and why?

• Okay, so I’ve listened to ‘Rule #34’ by Fish in a Birdcage over and over. The verse ‘You look so good, there on your knees/ Such a good girl knows how to please/ Look at me, look me in the eyes/ Forget yourself, surrender your mind/ Right now, you’re mine/ All mine/ Give in, you’re mine/ All mine (oh)’ I really have no real reason that comes to mind except that it scratches something in my brain.

•What is your Enneagram type?

•I'm an INFJ

•Do you love gargantuan Youtube video essays, and if so, which is your favorite and why?

•I do not, the closest I’d say I enjoy are the Redacted 101 videos

•Tell me about your childhood imaginary friend.

•I actually can’t remember much of my childhood. I think I used to have an imaginary friend but I can’t remember specifics

•What is your go-to way to fall asleep?

•listening to ASMR videos, usually Redacted

•If you had to change your name, what would it be, and why? (In tandem, if you have changed your name, why did you pick that one?)

• Hmmm that’s a good question. I actually like my name so I’ve never thought of changing it. I might go with Amitisia, it’s kinda cringe because it’s the name I gave to a main character of a story I never finished writing when I was a teenager.

•What is your favorite of Redacted’s audios, and why?

•Number one spot goes to “Your Incubus Confesses His Feelings (Again) While You Sleep”. It’s so soft and sweet and makes me feel so comforted when I’m having a bad day. I’ve listened to it a lot before I fall asleep.

Second place would go to “Falling For Your Yandere Childhood Friend”

•What Redacted boy holds no appeal to you, and why? Like, not the one you hate but the one who you don’t get the hype for. (I won’t judge, I promise.)

•Hate to say it but Ollie, he’s so sweet and nice but I was just never interested? And it always seems like we get an Ollie video before something bad happens so maybe that has something to do with it?

•Tell me about that one book/movie/tv show you know all the words to.

•I tend to replay shows and movies I like a lot so there’s a bunch. I guess I’ll go with “Mulan” because it’s my all time favorite Disney movie.

•Which Redacted boy are you platonically attracted to? Like- forget dating, which dude do you want to be your best friend?

•Oh, definitely Asher! Whenever I listen to his playlist I'm just like…You’re cute and chaotic but I’d rather have you as a wing-man.

•Do you have a go-to thing you ramble about when you’re tired, and if so, what is it? (For example, my boyfriend knows I’m ready to sleep when I start talking about space.)

•So, irl I’m a very quiet person, so I get even more quiet when I’m tired. I guess if I picked something, it’d be something I’m currently trying to write?

•Tell me your go-to gas station and drink combo.

•Nachos and cheese and root beer

•Tell me about your favorite playlist at the moment.

•I’ve currently been obsessed with the Epic the Musical playlist. I have to stop myself from singing it when I listen at work

•What’s your guilty pleasure media, and why?

•Reverse harem books, especially if it’s more of a poly situation than a multiple guys are with one girl. I was always frustrated with love triangles in books growing up, because…why can’t they all just be together. It was a pretty blaring flag that I was poly, now that I think about it.

•Extras

•My favorite color is purple. I love cats. I enjoy anime or animated shows/movies over live action. I collect pins, rocks/crystals, and stuffed animals. I hate certain food textures.

There are lots of cute details here to consider and prioritize when I was considering your match, but your being a writer won out. I can’t not pair a writer with Guy, you know?

Despite the same hobby/vocation, I love the small ways you contrast each other as well. Guy’s extroverted, bombastic nature would be such a cute foil to your introverted, quiet self. You’re a cat person; I imagine Guy as a dog person. These differences keep things interesting and balanced but not discordant, you know? I also think Guy is one of the redacted bois most likely to be poly/a romantic anarchist, so that’s another factor that would make y’all work so well. (He’d have similar feelings about love triangles, and a couple that bitches together stays together /hj /pos)

Guy would be such a charming boyfriend- not necessarily an easy one to an introvert but definitely a charming one. You two have writing sessions that are meant to be done quietly, in tandem, and they never are, always interrupted by Guy’s stream of consciousness and sidetracked thoughts spoken out loud. (Somehow, you still always get so much written. He’s very inspiring that way.) You two adopt both a cat and a dog that get along a lot better than anyone would expect. Guy always feels in his bones when you’re not having a great day and comes home with a new rock or pin for collection.

Song:

And that's because I wanna be your favorite boy/ I wanna be the one that makes your day/ The one you think about as you lie awake/ I can't wait to be your number one/ I'll be your biggest fan and you'll be mine

The song I picked for y’all isn’t necessarily one I think you’d both like per se, though it’s very catchy; I picked it because it’d make a good soundtrack to your love story. It makes me think of Guy falling in love with you, falling first, and being like “just you wait, I am going to win you over”, like he wants to be your favorite boy, your boyfriend, but best friend/roommate is a good start.

Runner-ups:

Huxley is a cute runner-up for you as an ambivert, but I especially love how often he’d bring you rocks and crystals for your collection, maybe even getting you a special shelf to display them on. Camelopardalis is your other runner-up, because he’s one loving partner away from falling in love with cats; he just needs someone to show him the way.

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌

[personasintro]

Hi Mimi. Can I ask you for advice.

I have a friend who is mad at me because I’m not calling her back 24/7, and because I can’t hang out all the time and have to cancel due to the fact that I work and they sometimes, even if I have plans, call me in.

I couldn’t attend her boyfriend’s surprise birthday dinner, who she’ve only been dating for like 4 months and I’ve only met twice, because they wanted to go out late at night and I was working the day before, during, and the day after. However that particular day I got to finish my shift early because it was raining so my boss told me to just go home. On my way home another friend called me, who I haven’t seen in four month because we live 1h and 45min away from each other. My birthday is in two weeks but she’s going on vacation soon, she asked if we could meet up in the city and have dinner, this is like 4-5pm, because she wanted to celebrate me by buying me dinner. I said okey. I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong. We meet up, have dinner, order some drinks, and I post a video of us. The other friend, not even 5 minutes later, sends me a loooong message about what a bad friend I am without even knowing anything. I didn’t answer her right away and decided to wait until I was home. I got home at like 8:30, and the dinner was around 9-10isch so even if I didn’t go out with my friend I couldn’t go and celebrate her boyfriend because I needed to sleep.

She really went off on me, said a lot of things, and made me feel so shitty for nothing. So I wrote back and told her, we’re not kids, I didn’t do anything wrong, I explained briefly why I went out with my friend, and I also told her it’s my life and nobody can get mad at me for my choices, even if I was free that day it still shouldn’t be a problem because I don’t have an obligation to anybody. I also told her that I think it’s wrong that she decided to message me when she saw I was out, she could have waited and brought it up the next day instead of basically trying to ruin my night. I also texted her “don’t worry about this now, go and have fun, enjoy, let’s talk face 2 face when we get the chance” She then texted me back saying “I am celebrating his birthday all weekend, we can talk another day, I don’t have time to deal with this now”. I wrote back “sure”. My first thought, before I calmed myself down, was “so you have time to ruin my night, and start this whole thing, but you don’t have time to finish it?”.

Am I the asshole? Hahaha this sounds like a reddit post, I wanted to write it there but I don’t want to take a risk of her seeing it. Your account, your stories and you are also my comfort zone. I just feel safe here, which is why I am sorry for the rant and headache you have now. I just don’t like to talk about other people with other people, which is why I’m not asking for advice from my friends. But at the same time I’m desperate because I feel like I have done everything for her but just because I have work and have to prioritize myself I’m suddenly a bad friend for not attending her bfs dinner who I’ve only met twice. I mean it’s not like I missed her wedding day. It’s not like I was talking shit about her or told everyone her secrets for her to call me awful names and paint me as the bad guy. It’s not like the plan hanged on me, and I said no, and everybody stayed home but then I went out anyways. They still went out and had fun, so why should it be a problem if I was there or not.

I just want to add that this friendship is solely about me being there for her, I’m basically her therapist. I’ve never ever had demands on her or how she should treat me. I’m so drama free like this is my only drama in life atm in the past 6 years. I’m so easy going. You know that last year on my birthday she didn’t wish me a happy bday, and last year I asked her 6 times if she wanted to go on a vacation and she said no, but then she posts on snap that she’s going on a “random trip” with a girl she met 6 month ago at a gym who she doesn’t even talk to anymore because she feels that the girl was to clingy. I didn’t say anything because I thought it’s okey I’m not gonna ruin her day, vacation or whatever for something so silly, it’s HER life. I’m always there for her, even if I’m busy I always try to show her that she is not neglected by maybe sending her a song, or meme, or even going as far as telling her that I’m gonna be busy and that she can call me if it’s an emergency otherwise I won’t be so active. I always have her back, she calls me 4 in the morning and I pick up without blinking twice. My parents treat her as a second daughter, I’m always there for her as much as I can, and I just have to add that last month, I didn’t sleep for 36h and had a 10h shift the day after, but I still went out with her because she needed a friend due to having a bad day. I neglected my mental health for her. And our convos are 90% about her, 7% about random stuff, and 3% about me, and I STILL DONT HAVE A PROBLEM WITH IT because idgaf. Im honestly so unbothered I really don’t care, but right now I care because I feel that the text she sent me, and the way she wanted to paint me, and the words she used even though I’ve never ever had anything negative about her coming out of my mouth…I just feel like this is so unfair and I don’t know what to do. Should I end the friendship? Or maybe talk to her and try to make her understand? Im just so lost and this is honestly so sad because we’ve been friend for 12 years if not more. I don’t want it to end over something so silly…

Much love💜

Again I’m sorry for ranting, if you have advice I want to thank you for them. And I also want to thank you before hand for taking the time to read this. I admire u and ur stories!

I just have to add: she’s not a bad person, her good qualities overshadows the bad ones, which is why we’re still friends.

This message was sent a while back and I am sorry for responding only now. Maybe you were able to figure it out on your own or things happened after this. But all I can recommend for you to do is to talk to your friend, if you haven’t already. If I were you, I’d try to communicate and make her see where I am coming from as well and then… there’s nothing much you can do from there. You’ll see how she takes it and whether she’s able to see your side or not. Regardless of everything, she shouldn’t take you for granted and cut you some slack.

Like you said, you don’t want your friendship to end over something silly but maybe it’s not something silly at all. In the end, you don’t want friends who makes you feel guilty and take you for granted all the time. Just the fact your entire friendship seems to be focusing on her rather than on both of you says a lot. You shouldn’t be treated that way and you do deserve someone who equally cares about you as a person :)