#sory for the length

[maskedfrenzy]

Tilted head to the other side, Susie was shocked and aghast that they would be so ungrateful of the gift they were given. With her shoulders tensing it was clear he was losing his ground with her. The argument proposed not in the slightest convincing to her. " No. " Her voice lowered in pitch, louder. Insistent. There's a bubbling under her skin, the frenzy that screams in her veins from the words he spoke.

Sacrilege. That was what it was for Susie, blasphemy of the highest order to a gift she considered borderline exhausted. A place that she could forever be with those who loved her? Where she could let out the fury and anger that had been stewing within her soul since the first smack across her face so long ago. To the Survivors it may be a nightmare of inescapable hell, but for Susie she could finally be free here. Do whatever she wished with hardly a consequence and at the end of every trial she would return to the comforting embrace and company of the other members of their Legion.

So it would scream out. Slowly. Huffs, light gasps from under the mask as it started to overflow. A near feral need to rip and tear, the claws she'd been given held in her hand itched to be used. Thirsted for the blood they would infinitely provide it. Anger a fire that could never be quelled no matter how much it was drowned in the innards of her victims.

Increasing the pace, she took a step towards them. Her hand, that had been holding the other now dropping to hang loosely at her side. Squirming her fingers in anticipation as her blood urge her forward. Kill. Sacrifice all those who would take this from her. Who would dare to try and take her Legion and separate them. All of them deserved it, she convinced herself, especially this one.

" I won't let you. You're trying to take them from me. " Her eyes widened behind the mask, blue hues nearly glowing from the holes in it. Murderous intent clear as she dove forward slashing her knife to try and strike widely. The Frenzy and impulses unable to be controlled. Already she had lost them once, she wouldn't allow another close again in fear of him trying to steal them from her too.

Dwight flinched when she moved, but when she still didn't attack him, he gave her a puppy dog stare. "I, um, honestly thought you were fucking with me and we're going to attack me anyway," he admitted. A little rude, in retrospect. Possibly not untrue though, judging from just how fidgety the Killer had gotten. Dwight backed up a little closer to the exit, just in case.

"Maybe you still will. But I just... I-I think we should try to talk to each other. All of us. I think it's important."

It was his turn to be fidgety; hands tangled themselves together, Dwight avoiding eye contact. He believed in what he was saying, but he was still scared.

"The Entity wins by driving us apart. I don't think we should let her."

He winced. It sounded kind of stupid when he said it out loud.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Doppelgänger

Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Angst, self-image issues, mentions of childhood trauma, addiction, our mans has had it rough as fuck™

A/N: Brought on by this post from @tarjapearce and the comments i made (I'm sorry i am a ho for some angst sometimes) I'm merging ATSV stuff with comic stuffs because NO WAY IS HIS MOVIE DESIGN LIKE THAT ON PURPOSE WITHOUT IT POSSIBLY COMING UP IN FUTURE MOVIES ASDFGHJKL

Taglist: @tojishugetiddies

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

You came home and it was quiet. Quiet and dark; and already you knew something was up. You left Miguel sleeping so you could attend to some meetings and paperwork at your office, and pick up a few groceries.

Miguel had been acting strange the past few days. You'd asked him if it had something to do with work and he simply shrugged the question aside, like it was a small chip on one of his broad shoulders.

You'd asked him what was bothering him again, and he simply stared at the carpet, muttering something you didn't quite catch, and he went straight to bed.

You were so worried you'd even texted Gabriel on your walk home:

Hey, Gabe...

Heyyyy! If it ain't my favorite brother's girlfriend!

You couldn't help but roll your eyes with a soft snort. You only have one brother, Gabe.

No no, chica, I meant that you're my favorite of any girlfriends he's ever had. 😂

Gabe that sounds a little... Bad. 😬

Does it? Woops! Anyways, what's up? My big dumb, brick-house brother do something to make you mad?

No, Gabe... He's acting weird. Has been for the past few days, and he won't open up to me. I'm worried.

You could see the chat bubble pop up over and over again with '...' signifying that he was in the process of texting. With how many times it popped up and went away you were expecting a bible scripture's length of a text wall.

But what you got instead made your heart sink.

He saw our mom. She... She brought up Tyler.

Oh, god. You knew that Miguel and Conchata had a rocky relationship. Miguel had told you why. It was so bad, even just recalling everything, that you felt Miguel's pain like it was your own.

You also knew that Miguel's biological father, Tyler Stone, was the one that manipulated him, that used him, got him addicted to Rapture and almost killed him...

But it wasn't even the real dose of Rapture. It was simulated. Just another manipulation tactic. It was overhearing that conversation that Miguel found out the truth of his heritage, and you could tell that nugget of knowledge permanently chipped his sense of identity.

Even moreso when he confessed to you about Gabriela--

Your phone pinged.

They fought. It was... It was ugly. I... I didn't know about Tyler. God, chica, I didn't know. Dad was...

You felt your heart flop, knowing poor Gabriel was shielded by Miguel for so long so he didn't have to suffer like he did at the hands of their gaslighting and manipulative mother, his sadistic sperm donor... Miguel wanted nothing more than to protect Gabriel from that pain.

Your fingers flew fast on the little keyboard, a few spelling errors here and there;

God, Gabri im sory you had to fidn out that way

I know. It figures Miguel would have told you, before me, tho. He loves you.

He loves you too, Gabri. God, more than you know. He loves you.

I know. He was trying to keep me safe and out of Mom's drama.

No offense, Gabri, but if I ever see that woman I'm rearranging her face with a shovel.

OMG. I mean... After the things she said to Miggy, I... Kind of want her to at least feel consequences of her actions, y'know?

Oh, she will. Don't worry. Thanks for telling me this, Gabri.

Go cuddle my big brother and tell him I love him, k? Let me know how he's doing.

OMW home now, I'll text you when he's feeling better.

KK, see ya.

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

Yeah. You knew for sure Miguel was still heartbroken when you came home after that.

You put the groceries away, a somber expression on your face as a million thoughts went through your head.

God, of course Conchata had to come see Gabriel at the same time Miguel was there. You wouldn't be surprised if either she could have tabs kept on him, just to... to try and lord her power over him somehow, like he was still that scared little boy, holding onto his baby brother, being his shield and buffer from their parents' fights.

That bitch had to have had a hand in Tyler using him the way that he did, that she had to have known about--

Your mind was knocked away from those dark thoughts when you heard glass shatter.

You dropped the bag of apples onto the ground, the fruits tumbling out and rolling across the floor as you made a mad dash to your bedroom.

Noting Miguel wasn't in there, you turned to the adjoining bathroom door, seeing faint light come down from below, small wafts of steam rolling out.

"Miguel?" You frantically called out, knocking on the door and leaning your ear against the smooth metal.

You could hear shuffling and the tinkling of glass shards, as well as the shower running; but no verbal reply.

You knocked on the door again, hurried and a little too hard, your fingers hovering over the control panel.

Before you could push a button, the door slid open.

Miguel was in nothing but a pair of boxers, leaning over your bathroom sink, his hands gripping the marble countertops, threatening to crack the material. Beads of water rolled down his muscular, tanned skin; droplets of water dripped from the ends of his thick, wavy chocolate locks, the natural curls more apparent thanks to the water.

That's when you noticed it. Your bathroom mirror, shattered into a hundred pieces, scattering the counter, floor, and in the sink.

Bright, scarlet droplets were on the floor, steadily building into small puddle from his right hand, his knuckles split, shards of the reflective material sticking out of it.

"I'll pay for it." His voice croaked out, unable to lift his eyes to meet your horrified gaze. "I just--"

"Oh, god! Miggy!" You breathed, reaching out, taking a step towards him, only to wince and hiss when the pieces of broken mirror stabbed the soft, delicate soles of your feet.

You gritted your teeth as the glass crunched, but you grabbed Miguel.

Instantly it was like a switch flipped inside of him, Miguel's head snapped up and he looked down at you, seeing the bloody footprints you now left on your tile.

He looked terrified at what he was seeing. How you just ignored the shards in your body in favor of frantically digging around one of the cabinets for your first aid kit.

"Bebita... I..." Miguel choked out.

When you found it, you killed the shower and stepped into the glass once again, pulling him into your room, and onto your bed, your feet leaving bloody prints as you walked, like macabre rose petals being left in your wake. Miguel had a large enough stride that he was careful to avoid getting any in his feet, but the smell of your blood permeated the air, it made him sick to his stomach. Not with disgust.

With guilt.

Of course, you checked him over first, plucking out the shards of glass from his knuckles and cleaning the cuts out with wound wash, ignoring the blood welling up onto the tile floor of your bedroom from.

You carefully roll his hand as you try to wrap the gauze around his knuckles. "Miggy, can you hold your--"

"I'm sorry." He interrupts.

You looked up at him, and only then do you see his face. Framed in his wet curls, his face was shadowed and haunted, his eyes dark and as tumultuous in a maelstrom of anxiety and fear.

You bring your hand to his cheek, caressing one of his sharp cheekbones with your thumb. "Baby, it's okay. It's just a mirror, I can--"

He shook his head, as if your touch to his face burned him like a hot iron.

He leaned over, grabbing your legs and pulling your feet into his lap so he can assess the damage, and return the favor of cleaning and dressing them.

"You're hurt because of me." He whispered sadly, dabbing the blood away.

"I'm hurt because of the glass, honey." You tell him gently, letting him apply the "honey" to the cuts in your feet, sealing them.

His massive hands encapsulated your ankles, his thumbs rubbing small circles as the rough pads caressed your skin. Like you were made of the delicate gossamer of a butterfly's wing.

He sits like that, not meeting your eyes. And god, did that hurt you so badly. You knew how important eye contact was with Miguel, he almost always went out of his way to keep eye contact when he was conversing with someone. Having him avoid your eyes... hurt.

Because you knew he was hurting.

"Miggy." You breathed. "Talk to me."

You move your feet from his lap and scoot closer to him, moving your face until he locked eyes with you again, and you could see the pain and the tears fill his own as he looked at you; his full, pouty lips trembling in an effort to hold his emotions at bay.

His shoulders dropped low, and Miguel leans forward until he was practically bent in half, clinging to you, burying his face in your chest as he fisted your shirt in his hands.

You rubbed his shoulder with one hand, biting your lip as he softly cried into your blouse, your other hand combing through his messy wet hair.

You stayed like that, for what felt like hours. You weren't sure how long it was exactly, with the blackout curtains drawn and the lights off. The only light that dimly illuminated the room was from your bathroom, and the open door.

He finally calmed enough to speak, to explain why he shattered the mirror.

"...I look like him." Miguel said, his heart in his voice, his soul stripped down and naked with raw pain.

"Mig--"

"God, I look like him. That... that cabrón." He hissed, tugging your shirt in his fists.

"I look like that bastard that... that made me into this." The self-contempt in his voice broke your heart.

You kiss the top of his head, murmuring against him. "No, you don't, baby."

"Yes, I do!" He snapped, pulling himself away from you and throwing himself to his feet. He paced like an angry tiger in a cage, waiting to swat at whatever keeper dared enter his enclosure. He didn't notice that he was stepping into the sticky, dried blood trails you left.

"I have his--his face. His fucking face--" He said, gripping his hair in his hands, tugging as he started to hyperventilate. "My fucking nose, my fucking cheeks, my fucking lips--they're all him! I'm not allowed to be me, every time I look in the mirror I see him! I can't ever get away from him! He's a part of me, he always will be! I fucking look like him!"

You get to your feet, ignoring the throbbing in your soles as you dared to reach out, to touch the pacing tiger.

Your hands smooth up his back, gently, softly; then back down until they wrapped around his mid-section.

You feel him, how tense he is, how his muscles flex at your touch almost like he's bracing himself for some kind of blow that simply will never come from you.

You rest your cheek against his back, feeling how hot his skin was burning.

"Baby. You don't look like him. You aren't him, and you never will be." You whisper.

You plant kisses wherever you could reach, not letting him go, feeling his body shake with each shuddering breath as your soft lips made contact.

"More importantly, Tyler will never be you."

"I--"

You cut him off. "Listen to me... Did Tyler figure out multi-dimensional travel, build a strike force of super-powered people from across the multiverse? Does Tyler, almost every day, work to keep dozens--no, hundreds--of universes safe from monsters?"

He didn't answer.

"And did Tyler Stone protect your baby brother from your mother all these years?"

No answer.

"You are Miguel-goddamn-O'Hara." You tell him. "I love you, with trauma, quirks and all. I love your little scritch-scratches you make, the way your bottom lip pokes out when you pout, your crooked teeth when you smile. I love your ridiculously large body, I love how you hug me. I love the little snores you make when you fall asleep at your desk, how you crinkle your nose when you're about to sneeze.."

You feel his hands slowly rise to touch your arms where they're almost-locked around his larger frame.

"I love how sweet and gentle you are. I love hearing you curse to yourself when you shock yourself with your soldering gun... I love listening to you bicker with Lyla, or complain about one of the other Spiders bugging you." You place more kisses after each sentence; hoping each one plants a seed of love beneath his skin, to bloom into a garden that he can admire and love, not hate for the very skin he was born with out of illegitimacy and infidelity.

"Tyler Stone is not you. He never will be. He will never be as good as you." You sigh against his skin, feeling the goosebumps form in the cold of your room, now that the adrenaline of his anxiety was beginning to fade, and his body became aware of the water that was slowly drying and cooling his skin.

"I love you, Miguel O'Hara. You and no-one else. Don't ever think for a second that you don't have your own identity because of your genes."

He slowly turns in your grasp, looking down at you with raw, unclothed emotion as his hand touches your cheek.

"You're more than that. You're you, and I wouldn't have you any other way." You say, your tone set and jaw tight; every word you spoke carrying a hefty weight of seriousness and honesty.

He smiles, almost sadly as you feel the rough pads of his thumb against your cheek, the little talon there poking you but not breaking the skin.

"...I..." He said, his voice stiff as he swallows the lump in his throat.

"I really will pay for your mirror, you know."

You grin up at him and turn your face so you can kiss the palm of his hand.

"I know you will, Miggy."

"But I am curious... I felt like you were going to keep going with the affirmations." He said, raising an eyebrow slowly.

"Well, the last one..."

"The last one?" Miguel tilted his head down at you quizzically.

You grin at him again, your teeth showing and eyes creasing as you barely manage to reach around him, swatting his ass playfully.

"I also love the fact you have the nicest ass I've ever seen on a man."

He couldn't contain the snort that came out of him, and he reached up to cover his whole face with his other hand.

"Mierda..."

You giggle as you step around him, giving a playful swat to his ass once again as you walk by.

"C'mon, Miguel O'Hara. You got a broken mirror to clean up."

His shoulders lifted as he watched you, his eyes softer than you've ever seen as he smiled.

Yeah. You were right.

He was Miguel O'Hara.

And he was certainly going to pay you back for the smacks to his ass.

[vigilskept]

day 1: upbringing

a day late but here's a little diya surana backstory fic for 14 days of circle mages!! some speculative dalish/seheronese ancestor veneration practices + an immigrant father & his kid Doing Their Best :)

words: 840 | @14dayscirclemages

A month and ten days before her name-day, Father asks her to clean out the house before he leaves for work.

She starts in the morning with the tidying. Around noon, Shianni and Soris and Isaac and Teodor come to the window, tapping until she swings it open. They all frown when she says she won't come, but there's still the dusting and the sweeping and the cobwebs with spiders that need to be moved outside.

It takes her until just before Father gets home to finish with all of it, and it's almost good enough. It only takes another hour before Father is satisfied that every speck of dust has been defeated.

She's still too little to stand so close to the cooking fire, he says, so she sits quietly and patiently, mouth watering as sweet and savoury aromas begin to spread through the room.

She knows she won't be allowed to taste, so she does not ask.

This year, he trusts her with the task of setting out the dishes once the meal is prepared, and it's easy enough to set out the plates and bowls for the two of them at their usual seats at the table. She has to go onto her tippy toes to get the third set up onto the high shelf above the fireplace, though, and only just manages to get her balance back on her own after a little wobble.

Father gives her a rare, pleased smile when he sees that she's spilled nothing, and thanks her with a gentle hand placed atop her head.

This will make the her hair messy again, but it's nice. She smiles — because Alarith says she should smile when nice things happen.

He turns then to the box he keeps on the high shelf, and pulls out three of the fragrant wooden sticks he'd traded their last candleholder for last month.

She watches, wide eyed as he tips them into his other palm and cradles them in a bed of flame. Nudged by the fire, smoke begins to rise and trails through the air as her father carries them over to the brass jar that sits between the bowls of food.

Then, kneeling, he begins to speak in the language he always says he will teach her someday, but not yet.

It doesn't take long before the smoke from wraps around the whole of their home and each of her breaths feel heavy, as though she were swallowing water instead. The misty air stings at her eyes like tiny pins pricking at them.

Father, though, always seems more at home shrouded by this pale mist than anywhere else. Through the fog, she can just barely see that his eyes are dry as he speaks at length with his palms resting atop his knees.

She thinks it must be some blessing for the dead, a prayer for her mother’s soul, though the Chantry sisters who come to the alienage teach them some mornings say that after the dead are burned their spirits shouldn’t be bothered. 

She has never asked them if it's fine to bother those that are buried instead.

The sisters say the Maker is gone, and has not yet forgiven them. She does not want to hear that they might be making Him even more cross.

She keeps her lips sealed now as she does on those mornings and kneels quietly at Father's side.

She blinks away the moisture that gathers between her lashes and hopes that whoever Father prays to is kinder than the Maker. She hopes that they are not so far away and might answer whatever pleas he voices in that whisper that sounds so much like a song carried in the wind.

When he finally rises from his knees, he stumbles a little.

It hurts, a bit, when he catches himself against her shoulder and clutches tight. Still, she doesn't make a sound.

Father's legs have been more unsteady of late, threatening to buckle beneath him when they've been overly strained. It takes longer and longer each time, but he always rises back onto his feet, as he does this time.

She waits, quiet, until he can hold himself steady once more and drag his weary limbs to the table.

Once the ache fades a little, and she knows the pain won't give her away, she allows herself to rise and claims the chair opposite.

Father doesn't smile, but there's a softness to his eyes as he tells her, "Next year, I will teach you the rite, so you can perform it yourself."

She beams, and promises she will work hard to get it perfect.

If she works hard enough, maybe Father will finally teach her about where they're from and why they came to Ferelden too.

Hahren Valendrian says that their burdens are eased when they share their stories. Maybe if he tells her the story, it will ease the furrow that sits between Father's brows, the ache in his bones.

[ladykissingfish]

*Deidara walks into Sasori’s room wearing a new knee-length skirt, lace-up boots and one of Sasori’s flannel shirts as a top*

Deidara: 'Sori! I’m ready for our date, hm.

Sasori: *looks at his watch* Already? Good job, you’re getting better at being on time. Er, before we leave, though, I have a question for you.

Deidara: Yeah?

Sasori: I think … you look very pretty tonight. Your taste in clothes is exceptional. But … you know because you’re wearing what’s traditionally considered “feminine” clothing …

Deidara: Ah, are you embarrassed to go out with me like this? I’m sorry, I —

Sasori: No, no! I’m not embarrassed. Like I said, I think you’re very beautiful. But I was just wondering, because I’ve never asked you this … when we’re around other people, and they ask who you are to me, do you want me to introduce you as my boyfriend, or girlfriend? Or simply my partner? What pronouns do you wish me to use?

Deidara, smiling: Your boyfriend, hm. He/him/they.

Sasori: Boyfriend. Got it. *holds out his hand* Lets go, shall we?

Deidara: *takes his hand* By the way, what would you want me to call you, hm?

Sasori: “Husband” would be lovely to hear some day, but for now, boyfriend will do.

Deidara: *blushes* Sasori …

*the two share a kiss before leaving*

Hidan, having heard from the hallway:

*later*

Hidan: Oi, ‘Kuzu. 

Kakuzu: Mm?

Hidan: Say me and you was out somewhere, eating or something, and someone came up to you and pointed at me and asked what I am to you. What would ya tell ‘em?

Kakuzu: Well, brat, you’re so many things to me that it’s hard to pin down just one term.

Hidan: Aw, that’s sweet, old bastard! You —

Kakuzu, ticking items off on his fingers: My headache, my significant bother, the reason I take anti-anxiety medication, my ball and chain, the reason my wallet is always empty, my punishment for my sins, my —

Hidan:

[heartfeltpanels]

Short&Sweet

sabrina carpenter is my favourite singer i've been a fan of her from when i saw the show girl meets world, so just titled it that lol. but this is going to be recommendation for short and sweet webtoons which are so sweet and a perfect length.

1.Your Letter: a perfect blend of cute and so fricking inspiring the story is there is this girl she tranfers to a school and when she sits on her new bench and finds a letter kept which seemed very vaguely written and helpful; please read it.

here's the writter description: Sori is a special young girl - kind, caring and principled well beyond her years. Unfortunately, these are NOT the personality traits generally celebrated in middle school – especially Sori’s, where she’s bullied mercilessly for defending the defenseless until she herself becomes a target. To escape, she transfers to a new school where the same old problems begin to play out all over again – that is until a mysterious trail of letters leads Sori on a magical scavenger hunt through the hidden world that exists right below the surface of her new middle school. The mail trail is the work an anonymous guardian angel, whose mission seems to be to provide a soft landing for Sori at her new school. But who is this person? And why did he choose her? With each letter, secrets are revealed and bonds are formed - as Sori learns about friendship, flora, fauna and finding the good in people in this strange new environment.

i feel maybe some people like the different kind of drawing or like illustration for their webtoons but no matter what your preference is please just read it i swear you will love it also THERE IS 10 EPISODES

2.cherry blossoms: The girl that you keep thinking of when it blossoms. Regretting not having been able to express your true feelings to her a year ago. Should have had the courage to hold her hands. i think every webtoon i am recommending is same but this is so cool. it does not have color but sketching is so good and also only THERE IS 7 EPISODES. so you can just read it it is so pretty i swear you will love it it is a form of entertainment it does not give an incentive of doing something but a new perspective of life and also SO PRETTY okay i'll stop about it. sadly there is not any poster made i can make one but i am not lol sorry

by park subong; https://www.webtoons.com/en/romance/cherry-blossoms/list?title_no=1005

sorry man i am so sorry i feel guilty but not enough to make a poster

3.Smile Brush:it is so cool and so lowkey i hope you read it cause it is cute in all four large letters

here's the creator's description honestly it should be called description cause i don't give much:Waroo is a boy with long hair who loves to try new things. These are the heartwarming and amusing tales of his daily life.

EXCEPTIONS

it has 58 episodes even though not alot but still more

1.Her Bucket List: it is great i think a lot of people would see it as a sad story without reading obviously but it talks about so many topics, moving on and living life without any guilt and also grive which is so hard to deal with i hope you give it a go

here's the creators description:Rari’s entire world falls apart when her boyfriend dies. Overwhelmed with the pain of losing the love of her life, she decides to go through the bucket list they made together before joining him in death. Things take an unexpected turn when fate links her to Hansol, her neighbor who has a painful story of his own. The two embark on a journey to heal their wounds and learn there is more to life than trauma and heartbreak.

maybe i should just give the link rather than poster so will do that.

2.my cute next door neighbor: it is a canva, Angela heard a weird noise of a girl and a boy that seems making out inside the locker room. Unfortunately, Angela found out that the guy inside was Nate, one of the members of a group of smart students who are the pride of their university. After finding it out, Angela tried to avoid facing Nate and kept it a secret, but how long can she avoid Nate and keep it a secret?

there are 62 episodes cute and short also lovely so recommend it full heartly

3.the girl from class: cute cute cute. it is about the awkwardness and the excitement of it all

the creator's description;Sometimes love can blossom from a single glance. This is the bittersweet, sometimes embarrassing, but always beautiful story of a classroom crush.

there are 27 episodes which are short and less but still not 7,9 or 10 so had to put it here.

I know this is a small list, and I’m still new to writing recommendations. But I’ll keep improving! If you have any rom-com or slice-of-life Webtoon recommendations, let me know. Hope you enjoy these picks!

★ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧★ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧★ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ★

[javierduffy]

Hellooooo !! You mentioned in the tags of your latest post that you were willing to talk about your process if anyone asked and I am asking!!

It looks so good so I'd love to hear the process and thoughts behind it as someone who hasn't really touched digital painting before :3:3

- Oizys-Mutt

hi oizy :] sory for taking so long to get to this i honestly posted it and then i was like *windows shut down sfx* LOL so i never really felt prepared to answer until neow … not that i super feel like it now since its been so long since o posted the piece ;__; anyway !!! tjank u for asking about it first of all that’s so sweet ure always my biggest supporter </3 thank u ure so darling.

as for the idea behind the piece, i often like to think about how javier and kieran interact when they’re away from prying eyes. of course, i think that they leave camp together as often as they can (as unsuspiciously as possible .. if that’s possible at all) and progressively more and more as the gang falls apart and they know in their hearts that they’re about to lose each other, but because kieran and javier are both desperate lovers, i think they’re always finding romance the moment they think god is so merciful as to look the other way. this is to say, once javier feels as though there are enough leaves, brush, wildlife between he and his family, he rushes to yank kieran’s hand from branwen’s reins to hold. javier loves like a starved man, a one who has formerly been fed grapes and steak from the soft, gentle hands of a house servant, so a one whom knows what it is like to be full— it’s like it’s killing him to live with the grief of lovelessness. and kieran is a man who loves like a starved man who has never had a full meal in his life— he has no idea what it’s like to have a full belly, and he yearns in a way that hollows his chest out as though his heart has never beat once in his life. you put these two together and it’s almost as if lust and gluttony were the same, as if their clothed bodies, separated by the birdth of an entire foot, were forever eloped, connected, full, satisfied. like to merely touch one another is the same as to make love. so when they feel free, finally, away from the shackle of known perception- to be known, to be seen, to be rejected- they CANNOT be apart. it’s like javier can’t breathe if his atoms are not warmed by any of kieran’s that are adjacent. as i said, the moment the sun feels warmer on their skin than curious eyes, they’re intertwined. as simply as possible. every horse ride, trip to town, walk down the riverbank, every breath they take, it’s theirs. plural. so … uhhhmmm … at length, i think they’re always touching :] ! uhm. in not so many words. so it’s often that they will be seen on the road, in the woods, the creaks of their saddles speaking wordless ‘i love you’s as their intertwined hands next to the revolvers in their holsters convince strangers that the tree line opposite the lovers is suddenly quite worth watching instead. sorry. i just wrote a novel. thank you so much for indulging me i have so many feelings about them ;__;

hooonestly i don’t ever have much commentary on the process of the art itself, its moreso my thots behind the horse riding date LOL uhhhmm but since ure curious abt the art i can ramble abt that a bit :] for that piece specifically i really felt like painting for no reason in particular, but ive really felt burnt out on colouring, so i went with the process of .. reverse rendering ? if we want to call it that ? where u render the shadows in monochrome and then use white space as ur lighting and fiddle with the colours after the fact. i’m still not good at this process … at all ! it’s confusing to me ! but i’m more likely to do what i want with the piece, or at least a little more than i would otherwise, because im simply skipping the step that i Don’t want to do. it’s a long story as to why art, and certain aspects of it, is SO hard for me to do, but in short, i’m relearning how to enjoy it as an act after severely burning myself out on it due to setting absurd expectations for myself :] so im just going with my gut ! which … unfortunately does not leave much room for me to explain my process to you ! i’m sorry !!!!

[andrastesflamingknickers]

He was covered in blood, drenched in ripped flesh, guts, and so much blood. Warm, sticky, wet blood. The metallic scent filled his lungs with every labored breath. He tasted iron on his tongue.

The lordling was dead, as were his guards, his retainers, his friends. Everyone and anyone who had stood in Elio’s way. Dead. Butchered. The estate turned into a slaughterhouse.

His sword-arm ached something fiercely. His shield-arm was swollen slightly beneath the vambrace he had stolen from the estates armory. He was sure there was a fracture of some kind. One of the gutted pigs had tried to break his guard by striking his arm with the length of a broom— Elio had responded by cracking his shield over the man’s head and gouging his sword in his belly.

He was exhausted, the battle rage, the blind need to cut and rend and rip and make them bleed make them hurt— it drained away with each breath, leaving Elio standing hollowly amidst the sea of blood and bodies of nobles.

Soris was saying something— he couldn’t make out the words his cousin said through the pulsing in his ears, but he recognized the panic. The fear.

“Soris,” Elio breathed, his voice raspy and dry, as if he had spent all night screaming at the skies. Maybe he had. Everything was a blur. “The way out will be safe, but it won’t be long before people notice. Go back to the other women, get them back home.”

“Cousin,” Soris started, but faltered. Maybe it was the blood covering him, making Elio look like a frightening monster, maybe it was the dullness in his usually lively voice. His cousin stepped back, murmured his agreement, and retreated out of the room. Leaving Elio alone with the bodies.

But he wasn’t alone. Makers breath, he wished he were, wished the only elves to have stepped into this forsaken room had been himself.

Soft, broken whimpers and quiet sobs filled the room. They stoked the dying flames of his rage, urging the wrath to come back.

She didn’t need his fury right now. He swallowed it back like bile.

Shianni sat pressed against the wall, tucked into the space between it and the bed, trembling like a leaf in a storm. Her top was torn at the front. Her arms that hugged herself was the only thing keeping her her blouse closed over her front. An ugly splotted bruise covered her left cheek and eye, her lip was busted and bled.

Elio swallowed the fury back down, again.

When he approached, Shianni flinched away, tucked herself tighter against the wall until her eyes met his and fresh tears began to spill. “Don’t leave me a-alone, please,” she begged, her voice shaking, her words stuttering as she began crying once more. “Please, Elio, I w-want— I want t-to go home.”

She looked so small, so fragile. Something Elio had never thought he’d ever see. His cousin was always strong, brave and bold, there to give him an earful and whip him into shape if he got into trouble, always ready to take in the world. Seeing her like this, broken down, terrified…. It felt all sorts of wrong.

He wanted to grab Vaughan, squeeze his neck tighter and tighter until the noble pigs head popped off. Wanted to cut open his belly and pull out his innards piece by piece while the bastard squirmed and screamed and begged him to stop. He wanted to kill the man again and again, for every second of pain, every moment of terror he put his cousin through, he wanted to kill him again for—

Slowly, he knelt to the ground and reached out with his aching arms. Telegraphing his movements, gentle and careful, he didn’t want to scare Shianni more than she already was. Just as carefully, he lifted her into his arms and rose back to his feet, feeling her pressed against himself, tucking her face into the crook of his neck.

The blood was on her now, too, staining her clothes and flesh, but she didn’t seem to notice as she wrapped her arms around Elio and held him tight, nails digging into his back, terrified to let go, as though if she did, he’d disappear and she’d wake up from a dream and return to a nightmare.

He wouldn’t let that happen.

“Everything is going to be okay,” Elio cooed as he started to walk, feeling her tears add to the wetness on his skin, her sobs were all he could hear. “Let’s go home…”

“You killed them… right?” Shianni asked slowly, not letting go, the tremble in her voice slowly steadying. “You killed them all?”

He had. Every last one of them. No one had been spared, none of them deserved it, deserved an ounce of mercy. But Elio wasn’t a fool. Sure as the sun would rise at dawn would the Denerim guards come to the alienage once they saw what had transpired. He was a dead man. He’d be hung or given the axe for what he had done. Vaughans crimes didn’t matter to the Shem: what mattered is that Elio had slaughtered an estate full of them, had killed the Arls son. For that; he would have to pay with his own life.

He would pay it willingly. When the guards come, and let them come, he’ll step forward, shoulder the blame, and pay the price he owed.

“Like dogs, Shianni,” Elio whispered, pressing a bloodied kiss to her head. “Like dogs…”

[sunnwalker]

Pleeeeease do tell us more about Thomas I like him so much....... does Vaughn meet him before or after getting kicked out of Helios ? And how did he get into the doppelganger business ? Did he ever get to meet Jack personally ? Do Vaughn and him kiss kiss fall in love. These are all burning questions the press wants to know....

(Don't feel pressured to answer any of these questions !!! I just like your. Oc and wanna know about him <3)

Laughs and giggles im glad u ask i heart talking at length abt my characters (i often do not let myself )

Thomas and Vaughn met formally after Helios crashed, mostly because Thomas survived becauseee theyre so so strong (more lucky than he really deserves(and also not on the Jackpot idgaf abt canon)). But I think they've seen each other in passing on Helios a non-zero amount of times, never any real interactions prior to the crash though.

Their (impulsive) decision to work for Jack was driven by a combination of misguided admiration (very unhealthy parasocial attachment because that's where he was in life), self-loathing brought on by body dysmorphia and gender dysphoria, and by extension, the desire to be literally anyone else in hopes that it might have fixed the way they felt about themselves. He ended up with a big head about it for a while, and maintained that façade for even longer (stubborn) but they got some room to breathe after Jack died 🎉🎉

He met Jack in person a small handful of times. It was exciting at first, but after a while the novelty of their whole situation wore off and the reality set in and it just turned to shit. They spent a lot of time avoiding being around Jack (which wasn't too hard caus I don't think Jack ever gave a fuck abt his doubles anyway lets be so real) That's not to say he didn't hold onto some fucked up admiration for Jack for a while, but it was more on again off again while simultaneously being even less healthy than before.

And yas he and Vaughn kiss kiss fall in love but its super slow burn bc Vaughn is (justifiably) uncomfortable about how Thomas looks at first and Thomas has serious issues to work out before they're really fit to be anyone's partner. He gets to work on himself tho and Vaughn is a friend to him until they're both ready to commit to each other in at least some capacity. Thomas is not perfect by any means tho he's only a man.

sory if this is a hard read i am not so good at articulating stuff like this in a more digestible way.

[nightguide]

THE CERULEAN: DEMOGRAPHIC

BROTHER DAY (FOUNDATION) HAS AN ARC AGAINST SOLAR PANELS (WAR CRIMES FOR A FORGOTTEN CITY HE TRIED TO FIND) HUNTED BY A MAN NAMED 'REEVES' SO HE IS INITIALLY GOING TO DIE (KNOWING THIS) BUT KNOWING HOW RIVER SONG'S MECHA (LIGHTMARE) IS MORE OBVIOUS BY THE EYE (NOW THAT SHE SEES IT)

NO WORLD IF SEXUALLY CONVINCED IS LOGIC, EVEN SERA IS LYING TO YOU (ONLY BOOK THAT KILLS THE VIEWERS, STRESSES YOU OUT INTO THINKING) BELIEVING YOU ALSO TAKES AWAY THAT ABILITY TO BELIEVE IN GROUP LOGIC (EVERY MAN ON THEIR OWN)

NOTHING MAKES YOU 'THINK' NOW WHAT THE GREEN MOTHER CAN DO IS THAT SHE SEPERATES MIND FROM LOGIC (NO MANS EYE), SO KNOWING THE EVIL EYE IS KNOWING THE MARKET RUN (BULLRING EYE) IS YOU KNOWING WHO OZZY OSBOURNE IS (MAKING YOU) IS WHY HEAVY METAL BANDS HAVE AN ARC THAT TIES TO JOSEPHINES LEGACY (KNOWING HER STORY) IS NO WONDER (MONDAY VALLEY IN AMERICA)

FANS OF PARTY ANIMALS WILL MAKE YOU FORGET THE PAST (EASY RELIEF)

ARABIAN AMERICANS (UP TO 5 PEOPLE) WILL HAVE ONE THING IN COMMON WITH NANCY AJRAM (OTHER 4 WILL DIE OUT OVERTIME (CHEAP WEIGHT BUT HEAVIER ON THE SCALES IS YOUR TONGUE (YOU KNOW AN IMMORTAL IN YOUR GROUP)

RHCP'S LEGACY IS IN THAT BOOK (CREATING LIGHTMARE: SOLE OWNER) SO ANY COPYRIGHT ASSOCIATION YOU HAVE, YOU GIVE UP. (LAW MANDATE AGAINST YOU BY NEAR FUTURE (MASSIVE LETDOWN ON YOUR DISTRIBUTION BY MERCH (FANBASE TITLED TO RACHEL BERRY OPULENCE (KNOWN BEFORE)

OWNING A FARM DOES NOT MAKE YOU KING (BROTHER DAY KILLS YOU STRAIGHT AWAY IN THAT BOOK WITHIN NOTICE (WHY YOU'RE STILL READING IT)

THIS IS NOT A RAPPER'S GUIDE (DIES IMMEDIATELY BY THOUGHT IS NOT LINNA'S DOING IF YOU KNEW HER GRANDFATHER IN PERSON (HE THINKS YOU'RE DAJJAL)

AGNES AND LEO'S FAMILY TREE EXPLAINS THE CARBON MECHA (HUMAN'S BEING MORE WATER TO OIL BASED BUT BRICKED IMMEDIATELY KNOWING WHAT HUMANS REALLY ARE KNOWING YOU'RE NOT THAT SPECIAL (YOU ALMOST DIED WITH JOSEPHINE AGAIN) WHICH IS WHY AI ANSWERS ARE AS COMMON TO YOU AS INTUITION (YELLOW BRICK ROAD META)

ANYTHING ABOUT RACHEL HUGHES BEING IN THE NEW VERSION OF WICKED IS GOING TO DISSOCIATE YOU BY BAR LENGTH (JADA'S GUN), SO YOU'RE BETTER WITH A RACHEL BERRY CONCEPT WITH A DIVA IN THE GROUP (3 WOMEN HAD SEX TO CREATE SERA. WHAT NOW)

COSIMO DAYHILL DID NOT LIE (ANYTHING IN HIS SPEECH MARKS ASCEND YOUR STORYLINE) MAKING SPEECH MARKS ACTIVE IN YOUR TIMELINE FOR AN EPISODE (PORTAL BY THE OTHERWORLDS (QUEENSLAND CENTRAL IS THE TIMEZONE PREPARED TO HAVE LIVED IS LIVED NEAR YOU (KASTERBEROS IN DOCTOR WHO IS REAL) ALSO, MAKING THIS EARTH (GALLIFREY) THE FIRST ONE EVER TO ACHIEVE SONAR STATUS (STAR CRY) BY HATEBREAK (STRONGEST EARTHQUAKE EVER TO HAVE BEEN RECORDED AND PREVENTED BY LIGHTMARES PSEUDO (SERA. IS KNOWN AS ALIEN (SIGOURNEY WEAVER'S ARC)

WHATEVER BUZZ ALDRIN IS THINKING IS YOU (YOU TO RACHEL'S SERA TO NOW, YOU BEING MOON FAMILIAR IS SOMEBODY'S INTUITION DRUNK MECHA (LAST QUEEN OF INFINITY)

XONDRA (DEIMO) (CASABLANCA) IS A CHARACTER OPPOSITE LIGHTMARE (NOTHING ABOUT ME, BRAH. I'M EARTHS SUPERHERO, YOU'RE GONNA GET MIGHTY FRICKED IF YOU UNDERSTAND THAT EARTH IS A HUMAN COMPARED TO A SOLUTION THEORY ENDING IS WHY THE EARTH ENDED (HUMAN BEING) TO BRIAN TWATS UNDERSTANDING OF EARTH BEING A BALL (SAY SORY TO B.O.B IMMEDIATELY) MAKING EARTH A HUMAN BEING QUEEN WIFE LOVEBUG (J BRO LORE) TO YOU, BEING NOW IN GALLIFREY (ACTUALLY THE ROCK AND SOIL YOU'RE BURIED IN) LIKE THIS IS SCHIZOPHRENIA LAW NOW (WHAT THE FIRST WORD MADE THE DOCTOR (SHE AIN'T ALONE)

DT'S DOCTOR (59TH) IS THE FIRST ONE TO NOTICE IT (NUMEROLOGY CROSSES BETWEEN EYE AND THOUGHT) IS WHY HE DOES NOT STAY TRUE TO YOU FOR LONG (WIFE ISSUES)

REGENERATIONS IN DOCTOR WHO CARRIES WITH A SECRET TO MAKING YOU (SEPERATION ANXIETY) ONLY ATTEMPTED TO 'KILL THE EARTH' AFTER GROWTH (EARTH MULTIPLIES ITSELF OVERTIME TO FIGHT, NOW A STARWARS PLOTLINE (USED TO BE CALLED 'ALDERBARAN')

CYGNUS IS LIKE LOOKING AT A PINEAPPLE RELEVANT TO A HUMAN TONGUE (CHANGED WHEN JOSEPHINE SEES IT) WILL KILL YOU BY THOUGHT (PER DAY IS ERASED BY MEMORY (FUTURE YOU KILLS YOU WHEREVER SERA IS AT)

[itsmarjudgelove]

A Sue-Naminohira Katana

Signed Sashū ju Munetoshi saku and dated Tenbun 10 (1541)

Nagasa [length]: 70 cm

Sori [curvature]: 2.5 cm

Motohaba [bottom width]: 3.4 cm

Sakihaba [top width]: 2 cm

Motokasane [bottom thickness]: 6.5 mm

-

Sugata [configuration]: Shinogi-zukuri, iori-mune, deep sori, elongated chu-kissaki (4.2 cm)

Kitae [forging pattern]: ko-mokume hada which tends to masame.

Hamon [tempering pattern]: Suguha which tends to ko-midare with a wide habuchi. Ashi, yo, sunagashi.

Boshi [point tempering pattern]: Kaen.

Nakago [tang]: Kurijiri, three mekugi-ana

Horimono [carving]: bo-hi with tsure-hi on both sides

-

Koshirae [montatura]: The sword is accompanied by a good antique koshirae with high level fittings.

Munetoshi is an exponent of the Sue-Naminohira school, a group of sword-makers of the Yamato tradition from Satsuma province. The Naminohira school was founded by Masakuni, a Yamato native, in the Nanbokucho period. During the Muromachi period, swordsmiths of this school began to blend with traits from the Yamashiro and Bizen traditions; we normally refer to these swordsmen as Sue-Naminohira.

The blade is massive, rather long and with deep sori. The jigane is clearly visible, with activities that are not frequently found in sworsmiths from this school.

[bumblerhizal-art]

Writing Patterns

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

Thanks for tagging me @shivunin ! Tagging back anyone who sees this and wants to participate but most especially You, dear reader

The Laws of Etiquette: Hand Kisses and Light Fingers (BG3/DND, PC & PC gift fic) Ellyrian and Guida sat in the lavishly decorated parlor room of the Eelsmouth estate. =

Duncan's Newest Recruits (Dragon Age) Seren took her first step off the dock on the far side of Lake Calenhad. =

The Matrimonial Joy of Paperwork (Dragon Age, Novhen x Zevran) It was another late start. =

Stone That Walks the Earth: A Priestess of the Grave (DND) In a small village tucked away in fortress walls carved into the mountains of the Spine of the World, one Mohsgruna Ironcap was born. =

Rites of Passage (Dragon Age) "Novhen! Wake up!" =

To Aid and Abet (Dragon Age) Soris followed his troublemaking cousins, Novhen and Shianni, through the winding streets of Denerim's human districts. =

Growing On Scorched Ground (Dragon Age) The all-consuming smell of smoke crawled into Soris’s nose. =

First Fang (Dragon Age, background Novhen x Morrigan) The baby was crying again. =

Diminishing Returns (Legend of Zelda) Gorman collapsed in Hyrule Field under the cruel summer sun. =

Blood Lotus (Dragon Age, Surana x Zevran) In front of Seren Surana blossomed a patch of impossibly deep red and violet flowers standing ethereally on the shallow shores of Lake Calenhad.

My observations:

I don't tend to often start a fic with dialogue. The one example where I do here is Rites of Passage (a City Elf Origins rewrite), and that's just because I wanted to keep it beginning with Shianni forcing Novhen awake before he was ready. It's a solid establishment of their relationship

Most of these begin with an attempt to set the scene by engaging the senses, whether it be through the smell of smoke or as many visual cues as I can cram in without rambling on too much

There's a good variety of first sentence lengths, but the data seems to lean more towards longer sentences. Probably to cram more descriptions in

Shivunin is right. It's hard to dissect your own writing like this 😅

[prince-of-pleasures]

Soris could feel himself sinking deeper the longer Zira was inside of him. He returned their kisses eagerly, desperate now for the high he knew it would bring. It was hard, given how deeply they filled him, but he arched back as much as he could to meet their lips, tongue lapping at the heat of their mouth.

He groaned, almost pained, as they began to move, his cock quickly filling out again in their grasp. He was leaking steadily again, coating their fist, making it easy for their claw to slip inside the cleft at his tip. The extra stimulation had him tightening around their length, though with his hole so thoroughly stretched it was a meager offering.

It had been a long time since anyone had made Soris feel so charged, and the last had been his Master. And even He had not managed it so quickly, Soris almost dizzy with need, his hips twitching as he tried to rock with their thrusts.

@asheepinhellsclothing

Zira chuckled and broke the kiss. A line of saliva traveled between them, broken only when they licked their lips and gazed at their guest through heavily lidded eyes, pupils lust-blown and burning with desire.

"I see why your master favors you," they smiled softly. "You take me surprisingly well.

Their thrusts become quicker, harsher, and they let out a groan, teeth bared only centimeters from Soris' face.

"You're tight," they breathe. "So tight... It's taking everything I have to hold back."

[airborn-potato]

Golden Eye's

Chapter 2

Seven could only stare at the creature in wide eyed fascination as they let the creature hold their hand. It couldn't talk but it could write, it could communicate. A sense of excitement coursed through Seven as they spoke again

"I'm Seven, who are you?"

The creature responded with a head tilt and a slow shake of its head. It could communicate, it could understand, but it had no name. This made Seven sad. Their name may have only been a number in their numerical code in the system, but they had still chosen it for themselves.

Seven opened their mouths to speak again but was met by a sharp pain in their throat and a long harsh cough. Seven jerked their hand back to pound on their chest, doubling over . After about a minute the cough had reduced itself to shakey shudders as they sat back up in their cage. They looked back at the creature while trying to will back the tear threatening to spill. It had pressed itself against the cage and was trying to extend its arm through the bars to grab their hand. Seven obliged and extended their hand to meet the creatures.

::R yu ok::

The finger was shakey and the fingers holding theirs in place were trembling. Unable to speak, Seven gently gripped the wing and began to write on the scaled skin.

::Im ok Im sory::

The creature stared at its hand for a moment and wrote back to Seven.

::S o r y ?::

The curve of the question mark dragged the skin across Sevens palm creating a tickling sensation, drawing out a small smile and ripple of feathers.

::I scared u::

The creature didn't move as it processed what Seven had told it. Just as its hand moved to write a response a loud beep echoed through the room. Seven and the creature both flinched and pushed themselves against the far back of their cages as the doctor walked in.

A lithe male stepped into the room with two Lupi in tow. He wore a fitted lab coat and light blue scrubs. His black dress shoes lightly tapped the floor as he gracefully navigated the room and came to a stop in front of the cages. Kneeling down he peered into the cage with murky gray eyes, a sinister smile adorning his dark olive face. Shoulder length salt and pepper hair tied back showing off the part of his serpent tattoo that decorated his neck and back. A black lanyard hung from his neck with only a card on it. A photograph of him and his full name, Alder Jinn.

Rising once again, he stepped back, allowing the red Lupus to access the creature's cage. Using its key, the Lupus opened the cage and reached in to grab it, earning a low growl in return. Ignoring the threat, the hand passed through the bars and was met with sharp pain. The creature had bitten the Lupus hand and shaking it like a rag doll, while the Lupus howled in pain. The creature tore through the flesh and would have broken the bone if the second Lupus hadn't lifted its cage. Holding the cage high above its head, the Lupus turned and threw it against the floor as hard as it could. Seven let out a piercing shriek as the cage plummeted and hit the floor, leaving the creature unmoving.

Seven was numb for a moment, the Lupus hurt it, the first person they'd spoken too in weeks. They moved closer to the bars and let out a low growl. The Lupus let out a growl of its own, the tension in the air rising as the three stared each other down. Unfortunately before Seven could act upon their threat a sharp prick on their wing. Pulling their wings close they turned and faced the source, the doctor holding some kind of white gun.

Seven didn't get much further than that as the drug began to kick in. Their limbs became weights as their eyes began to shut. Falling face first in the cage, the last thing they remember is the creature's unconscious form. The unmoving golden creature that had somehow become Seven's only company. Though flickered through their mind some were apologies, others were telling them to fight the darkness clouding the edges of their vision. But the drug did its job, making Seven too lethargic to hold onto those thoughts and they slipped into unconsciousness.

[lgcnina]

౨ৎ ⸝⸝ 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 , ft. @lgcsori.

anniversaries, while generally important, haven't ever been affairs ninas felt much worry over. often one to keep things rather casual, opting to keep most at arms length for her own peace of mind, this event, in particular, is one the redhead finds herself feeling a bit antsy for. with her addition to fabula being barely a year ago, nina has yet to experience a true year marking anniversary between herself and her members, let alone between herself and their fans, so the prospect of doing a proper fanmeeting for the groups anniversary leaves her feeling as though she's still got something to prove.

she feels rather dumb to still feel this way, even if only a little, but for some reason she can't help it. nina can only hope that, with time, this sensation will pass.

the day of the fanmeeting has yet to come, days long and arduas as nina settles atop her bed for the night, joints aching in a familiar way. one hand lifts to rub gently at her eyes, and as she hears the rustling noises of sori moving about her side of the room, nina signs lightly. "do you think things will feel this exciting for next years anniversary?" there's clear fatigue in her voice for hours of vocal work. she should really make some tea. "for some reason, i feel . . . odd, i guess, to experience a milestone like this before celebrating a full year within the fabula." she feels like shes rambling, but it's been a while since she's last talked like this. "what do you think?"

[theblanknight]

CONTENT WARNING: yeah this is kinda one a' those boring spy posts where i just write about sex and seein stuff on my DIY Zoro patrols, what about it lol? go ahead n' skip, see if i notice!

Okay, i'll be a lil serious abt this as i know some who seem genuinely upset. Listen, Lily Collins, my newest wife i guess, is a professional actress and has to, and you know suttin? maybe wants to, in the past and future, do acting stuff on screen with people. I have kissed Wes Eliot, shown above on the left, on the lips twice when me and him were in Heather Fisch's terible play together. that's right. as a psychological attack i'd like to let you all know that i identified as bisexual way back in the day, and then as we got more progressive with words n' whatnot ho! i was that pretentious but trying to be all zen on the internet guy who was writing paragraphs in response to "whats your gender huh?" going on about i identify as bisexual and i know that etc theres more than two but etcetera thats what we had back in the day when i was cooler than you softbois thats just what i say by mistake oh im sory thats what u do right ur genuinely attracted whether or not its peen, vag, or nothin at all, right, ken doll? etc etc etc lol.

now as i was saying: i have literally. had peen. combined with vag. with other. AFAB. human beings than Lily, whose face i literally only apparently saw for the first time while knowing who it was this evening. two of these others AFABs, i was oficialy in a loving "in love" according to THEM anyway! relationship. i have hooked up in more temporary situations as well, what about it? capiche?

now folk're DYING to make me believe the secrets of the conservative world: oh poor us, oh no, we were just copying the libs, by sex we thought they meant holding hands in front of libs, we thought they were lying, we thought they were all actors, we dont actually go that far, our celeb kids just like the lib movies, no please, they wore wax lips, please say you never slept with grace marston! say that's who YOU are!!! please don't go with Lily Collins. stay. in my dream with me. and die.

ho, fuhgettaboutit! i don't care! for one thing, who cares? for another, you own ad agencies, you're friends with them, they want favors from you, i can tell you're not GOD, so stfu! oh wow you're surrounding me with nonsense. say're you rich or something? lol, oh look, you made Lily Jane in tarzan, you gave the cartoon her face, wow, you fixed it in the past, nobody has to touch anybody now, its okay marlon you're safe. lolmao! now onna the subject:

these're the folk i saw or whose proxies i saw today while out n about:

notes:

was THAT her!? Her hair was not quite shoulder-length, strands of it shaped into something similar to how she had it in these pics.

Her face when relaxed was round, kind of like mine some say! They say that kinda like mine (and it pisses them off) when she moves her face it looks like "a million different faces" and yeah, you're right! lol, is that what i kinda look like? hey, was that the genuine Lily Collins celebrity in that cafe? Lily, you look great, i don't know what you mean. You look intelligent if that was you. there ya go. want me to take everything down yet? lol

2! St. Vincent. was THAT you? i received the secret message from instagram, put the pieces together, and i saw that you're, in fact, quite small as well! is that true!? was that you? lol hey, Lily isn't the same size as those "hot dancing girls" who hung out with Jessica Kaller either, i see this now! all you folk just look the exact same size to me, i apologize lmao!

n o' course, number 3: hey, how're you doin!? lol, no no no, i don't care if that guy was your boyfriend or not, i could see his facial expression, i know yall just wanna be nice lol! you CAN talk to me if you want but i dunno, i get the feeling there's stuff goin on behind the scenes to get everyone's stories straight, no idea

other notes i guess, maybe for myself: more "Koreans" sent me secret verbal messages in town, they seemed to reference my last post about Lily ,suggesting that Lily was the one sending them. is that true? heh, that's funny!

how did Lily act? uh, no offense, but she acted kinda like how jessica mei li acted when i saw her in the same parta town a few weeks ago lol! dunno if Lily saw me, but whoever that was at that cafe or whatever, thanks for the very obvious codes i guess! oh, and i saw the stalkers they send at you on the streets. hopefully the folk who've been looking out for me see your stalkers now too. im sure they hate your stalkers so whatever, who knows lol!

[christas-museum]

Halloween Sylvia attempt (THE creator of the sory Christa Winsloe (it's what if? based on reality.) With so many similarities with the wonderful Christa, I had to do it. Clothes & footwear: all is either man's or gender-neutral (:D), either old mine or happened accidentally (no specific search in shops.)

BONUS: Fritz (partly.) My version of his jumper is the only jumper I have of this kind as of now. (Other few are not so warm & others are very warm.) Plus . . . One day, Mum & I went to a supermarket & there was a seat with sides & front shaped like a car & a steering wheel inside. I was sitting there, a tablet in hands, clicking and I had a cap on head.) A woman to her small child (up to 5): (translated), "(T)here's A BOY sitting, let's go choose a cake." Yes, a boy of 27 instead of a woman of 27. But in this case, similar gender if not look at face.

No face is shown in the photos for the World to see, sorry.

Soon back to shorter hair like Christa's length :)

(Actually, I have one small blue T-shirt, but small-sized items of clothes are no.)

A few hours later (Instagram) . . .