#there was top marked kindle things

[lanternlightss]

ALOS HELLO WHOS TRHINF TO GET INTO BADES UNDERWEAR?

[hexgaywire]

Request fill for this ask

I simply couldn't just ignore this I eat this stuff up man

Shout out to @mystaposts for Ike's setting idea bc I genuinely got stuck, they are the best!

»»————-　☾　————-««

Luxiem Boys "S/o getting hit on while being clearly taken"

Ft. Vox, Luca, Shu, Ike, and Mysta

Rating: SFWish, Suggestive

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, mentions of pda, mentions of marking, violence (with a happy ending), mentions of weapons, being in uncomfortable situations, general possessiveness

»»————-　☾　————-««

Your out at a fairly nice club with Vox for date night. Normally he'd splurge for a vip booth for the two of you but tonight you really just wanted to dance your heart out. Leaving vox at the bar, a few fruity cocktails in you head to your target. The dj was playing all the right stuff and you sway your body to the music. You turn to vox flashing him the biggest smile from across the dancefloor and you can tell he's enjoying himself as well.

You dance by yourself for a bit eventually doing what drunk people do best making friends with the drunk girl group dancing next to you and you all dance together. Then the next trun of events happen that typically happen whena lone group is minding there own business. A group of guy's approach trying to dance up on y'all. You visible tense for a moment. Scooting away from the taller figure, who wasn't your partner, trying to grab your waist.

You flash another look, this time a more desperate one, to Vox at the bar who is seething. You can tell by his posture and the way his eyes darken, locked in on the stranger dancing on you. You lean in as a courtesy to warn the stranger for what's about to come. You shout over the loud music. "Hey man, my boyfriend is over the bar glaring at you right now. I'm gunna be honest I'm just here to dance so if you'd kindl-" the asshole cuts you off. "Honestly a pretty thing like you should be alone on the dance floor. He whisper shouts in your ear in the least sexy way possible.

You sigh and look over your shoulder to Vox again who is already making his way toward you. You can feel the anger radiating off him and into the crowd. He reaches you and possessively wraps his arms around you. "Hey babe." He smiles and looks up at the jerk with a shit eating grin on his face. "I was just talking about you." You smile as he places kisses all over the top of your head, while you back is pressed against his front swaying with you to the music.

The guy from earlier audible scoffs and walks away at the pda happening in front of him. "Easy enough, I was 2 seconds away from punching him square in the jaw I swear." Vox mumbles in your ear, sending shivers down your spin. "I've seen you possessive before, but this is a whole new level Vox." You smile. "I'm sorry... I just couldn't watch some guy grind up on you while I just fucking sat there." He mumbles pulling you to face him.

He places a possessive kiss on your lips trailing down to your neck. You bit back a moan as he sinks his teeth into your neck leaving a nice bruise for you to admire later. He pulls away to inspect his handy work. "There now you're marked as mine." He smiles triumphantly. " Always have been always will be." You smile back.

»»————-　☾　————-««

You were getting some shopping done downtown. Luca was working but texted you letting you know he'd pick you up. I was getting later and the street lights had just turned on. It was the weekend so the sidewalk was decently filled with people either meeting up with friends, doing some shopping, coming home from work. You name it, it was probably happening. You didn't mind the crowd though, it was kind of fun to people watch.

You get a text from Luca saying he was about 5 minutes out, just trying desperately to find some parking. You make a mental note to thank him later generously for picking you up at such a busy time. "Hey." You head whips up from your phone to be met with a group of well... thuggish looking men. "H.. hello?" You say back confused. "What's a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?" "I-" "You should come drink with us!" The men surround you. You panic slightly glancing at the brutish looking men all around you." I'm actually waiting for someone! " You yelp." Great, your friends are our friends now. " One of them smirks.

"I'm actually not so friendly." A familiar voice rings out pushing past the ring of men. "Nor ' just a friend', thank you." Luca, your savior, plants a kiss on your forehead. This throws the group of men into a frenzy. One of them gets upset by this and throws a haphazard punch at your mafia boss boyfriend who easily doges it and plants one on just as rough right in the man's face. "I suggest you scram, fucking with me or them isn't a smart idea." Luca spits out.

The men scatter and you're left with Luca who is now dottingly inspecting you to make sure you're unharmed. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here sooner. Are you okay? They didn't touch you did they? If they did so help me god I will-" "Luca! I'm fine you got here just in time." You smile at him and he lets out a sigh of relief. "I have to give you a handgun to carry in your bag." He muses. "LUCA! You're too overprotective, you taught me how to throw a punch or two if needed." You place a kiss on his check. "I'm okay, I promise." He smiles down at you. "Well, when we get home I promise I'll make it to you."

»»————-　☾　————-««

Shu left to go buy movie tickets. You've been wanting to see this movie for a while and you finally convinced Shu to come with you. You went to go buy snacks but finished before he was done. So you waited. A group of boys, probably no older than high school age exit a theater. They stand around talking about what they just watched and you laugh lightly recalling the days you went to the theater with a group of your friends.

One of the boys takes notice of you and suddenly you have a bunch of eyes on you. You pull out your phone to try to blend back into the background but you can tell they're still staring. Husher whispers and murmurs come from the gaggle of boys one of them is pushed forward and begins approaching you.

"hello, sorry if this is... Awkward? I noticed your really pretty and." He pulls out a slip of paper he was hiding behind his back. "I wanted to give you my number... Maybe we can see a movie sometime?" He smiles. You feel bad for the next words that are about to come out of your mouth. "I'm so so-"

"Got the ticket!" Shu sprints over to you. "Sorry it took me so long" he stops in his tracks. "A friend of yours? " He asks. you to shake your head. Shus eyes fall on the slip of paper "Ah... I see..." Shu takes your hand and walks away. " Shu!" You protest! "Listen I'm saving you the trouble of having to reject the poor guy, he'll live." Shu chuckles. "you huff but are definitely relieved you don't have to reject him yourself. Leave it to your partner to read to you better than you can.

»»————-　☾　————-««

Ike really wanted to go to a new book cafe that opened up in town. He was excited and frankly you were excited for the cafe part. You walk hand in hand down the street as Ike excitedly rambles on about all the details

. "... And there's reading books you can rent out, which is super exciting because, come on it's a reading nook. " He giggles giddily. " I wonder if the lattes are any good." You ponder." I heard the food and the drinks are amazing too! A famous barista personally trained the entire staff! " He explains. This perks you up immediately.

You listen to Ike a bit more before finally reaching your distanation. "I'm gunna check out reserved area and get settled. Order me a something sweet?" He asks. "You bet!" You smile lovingly at your very excited boyfriend who dashes off to down the very quiet hall. You wonder over to the pastries cases where a young barista is working hard crafting the most delicious looking latte. Your mouth waters.

The barista notices you. "Hello! Is there anything I can get you?" You point at a few pastries Ike will definitely enjoy with you and then you order yourself you favorite flavor of latte. "Coming right up." He says with a wink. You find this odd but nevertheless wait patiently for your items.

Once your items are ready the barista calls out your name and you go to pay but they stop you. "It's on the house." You stare dumbfounded."I can't do that" "please I'm just pleased that someone as pretty as you can enjoy my work." They flash a smile at you and you feel uncomfortable. Ike shows up just in time. "Here's the pay for the items. I appreciate the sentiment but they're taken." He smiles sickly sweet taking your latte from you as well as the pastries. Ike leans on for a kiss. "Exactly what I wanted something sweet. " He smiles at the barista before whisking you off to your private room leaving the barista dumbfounded.

»»————-　☾　————-««

Grocery shopping with Mysta is fun. He's easily distractible though, constantly putting items into the cart that don't necessarily need to be there. It's like grocery shopping with a small child minus all the screaming... Sometimes...

On this particular day you sent Mysta to the produce section in hopes he could help cut down on shopping time. You gave him the list of produce you needed and sent him on his way. Unsurprisingly you finished your half of the grocery shopping before he did. So you shot him a text letting him know you'd be getting in line.

You settle into a short line and wait for your turn. A young man a little younger than you was handling the register. He greeted you warmly as your turn approached. "Having a good day so far?" He asked with the beeps of your purchases in the background. "Pretty good." You respond politely. "A lot of groceries for a person all alone." He smiles at you. You cringe. Was that supposed to be a line or an insult. Regardless, you laugh politely and slightly awkwardly.

As if he could sense your awkwardness, Mysta comes to the rescue, hand full of produce and planting a kiss on the top of your hand. "Sorry for the wait! I keep going to the organic section and forgetting that all produce is organic." You sigh, you'll definitely talk about this later... The clerk looks taken a back by your boyfriend and backs off a little.

The two of you pay and walk out to get your groceries home. "Hun you know not all produce is organic right?" You question softy. "I know that." He sneers. "I just had to come up with a good excuse to get that guy to stop hitting on you!" He wails. " He was just being friendly. " Mysta shakes his head in defiance. " Nah men are just like that. You have to be careful otherwise I'll get jealous. " He pouts. You laugh, knowing full well he was jealous that whole time.

»»————-　☾　————-««

Shout out Tumblr for not saving this as a draft this has been a post for over a day bc I didn't wanna lose all my work 🧍🏻‍♂️

Btw my requests are open so if you have one send it my way!

[amorgansgal]

Midsummer Memories

Day 1: Halsin Enjoying Midsummer

Here's my first piece for the Halsummer SFW Week! I'm afraid I've failed a fair bit, as I haven't managed to write something for all the days. But I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

The hazy blue sky stretched to the horizon. The heat of the day had lessened and now Halsin was content to lie on top of the cliffside, comfortably resting on a soft bed of grass and wild flowers, whilst the waves beneath broke upon the shore. The continuous rumble and then hushing noise that followed was soothing. It was midsummer and he had spent the entire day busy. Midsummer was truthfully, a rather exhausting time. There were a dizzying amounts of prayers and rituals to mark the dawn, midday, sunset and then midnight, and it did not help that the day was so hot. He’d finally managed to find a little time to sneak away and enjoy a swim in the ocean, the cold water had refreshed him, though he had still hidden away on a rocky outcropping so he could dry off and have some time to himself.

When he’d been a child, many years ago he’d love celebrating midsummer. They’d gathered scraps of ribbon, garlands of leaves and flowers and especially carved wooden medallions that would include little prayers and wishes for Silvanus and hung them over the branches of the largest and oldest oak tree there. There’d been a special stone gate, huge in its size and with sprawling carvings featuring Silvanus and when the sun set, the glorious, heedy warm beams of light would illuminate the gap between the two standing stones. He could still hear the sweet, melodious piping of flutes, the steady beat of drums echoing around the woods, the roar and crackle of fire as a great mountain of kindling, dried leaves and branches were set ablaze and then there would be dancing and sweet honey wine and venison served with the ruby red and deep purple summer berries, and spiced, peach cream cooled by ice. He had once eaten so much of it, he had been sick and his mother had chastised him. Though not too harshly. 

‘Even little bears need to be mindful of what their stomachs can manage,’ she had said affectionately.

He smiled to himself. Later when he was a youth, he learnt that midsummer was for merry making in many, many different ways. He’d had his first kiss there. They’d been as tremulous and nervous as young colts, fumbling their way through a sweet, quick press of lips. But he had to admit, there was something infinitely more pleasant and wonderful about the first little taste of love and innocent desire, than any hot tumble into a lover’s bed. 

He wished the Emerald Enclave’s midsummer celebrations could be like the ones from his childhood. He wished that it wasn’t so formal or, more accurately, unendingly dull. He had thought that he wasn’t much of a leader, but he could at least encourage some enjoyment and joy and fun for their midsummer and midwinter celebrations. But such a matter was swiftly discouraged by Jeorna and Kagha, even Rath had his reservations about changing things.

‘It is meant to be a celebration honouring Silvanus, we can’t be too frivolous about these matters.’ Rath had said.

‘But do you not hear yourself?’ he had asked. ‘It’s a celebration. Most people would not really say we’re fully celebrating. There’s no music or dance or song or-’

‘We do not need to gorge and drink ourselves into a stupor to celebrate midsummer,’ Kagha had muttered.

He shook his head, pushing aside all thought of the discussion where he’d been soundly outvoted to at least include some real form of celebration. There was little point dwelling upon it and feeling sorry for himself. Everyone was different, everyone had a different way of celebrating something and he already did enough to upset the apple cart at every turn!

‘Halsin? Halsin!’ Nettie’s voice called out from the shoreline below and he lifted his head, seeing her walking along the beach and evidently looking around for him. 

He quickly pulled on his breeches and tunic and then called out, ‘I am here, Nettie.’

She swung about and smiled on seeing him. ‘Good, thought you’d swam off for a minute! I’ve been asked to fetch you as we’re getting close to sunset.’

He jumped down from the sandy cliff and made his way over to her. He had tried to smile, but perhaps it had come off as more of a grimace, as she gave him a sympathetic look and pat on the arm.

‘Don’t worry, the day is nearly done,’ she said and began to walk back towards the grove.

Perhaps it should have comforted him, but it only left a painful, tight knot in his chest at the thought. The day was almost done. The longest, sweetest day of summer and it felt like it had meant little and nothing. On a day where birds sung long into the night and nocturnal animals slept for longer in the burrows and bears dug greedy paws into beehives searching for honey and long ago elves had danced and sung and celebrated, he was left feeling tired and worn out and utterly frustrated, and it hurt him to feel that way. 

But what was the good of insisting on a celebration if no one wished for it? To order people to laugh and dance and sing and feast and kiss would make him a tyrant, not a leader who simply wanted the best for the druids here. He began to follow Nettie back up the cliffside path and towards the grove once more.

[thelampisaflashlight]

The Little Sorrows That Make Life Worth Living

[Mountain thinks about his family.] Below the cut.

Mountain gazes out over the rolling fields on the far side of the abbey's grounds, at the lakeshore, and beyond, to the edge of the forest shielding them from the outside world, and the faintest glimpse of smoke rising above the tree tops.

There's a cabin there -really more of a cottage- homely and familiar, with markings etched into the wooden beams that have stood for more than a century.

Thirteen marks; One for every year that passed during his marriage, and spaced out to show the height of the child he raised.

Despite the years and his fall from God's favor, Mountain remembers carving each mark above Bo's head, looking to his mother and remarking about how, "We'll need to make the ceilings higher!"

His wife never found it particularly amusing, but, Bo, bless his heart, would always laugh, even if when he got older it was preceded by the boy rolling his eyes and giving a bemused, "Pappa..."

Things had been simpler then.

The only thing Mountain ever had to worry about was feeding his family, and, well, even before he awoke as an earth ghoul, he'd always had a green thumb.

It all came naturally to him, even back then.

Shaking his head, Mountain draws himself back to the present; To the smoke rising from the cabin's chimney.

The abbey's head groundskeeper -Beatrix Milne, Bea to friends, Milne to Mountain only- lives there now.

She's a firecracker, that Milne, when she's mad, she's meaner than a junkyard dog, but she maintains the grounds nicely, and she keeps the cabin in good condition, so he can't complain.

Sometimes, when he's feeling low, Mountain will stop by the cabin and ask to come in, and despite how often they argue over things like potting soil and pH levels, Milne never tells him no.

Milne had offered to give the cabin back to him once, but he'd refused; For as much as he liked visiting the place, it held too many memories, and so many more little sorrows.

He thinks of his wife.

He thinks of Bo.

And he thinks about the last time he saw them together, in happier times.

It was a week before the worst snowstorm he'd seen in years, and Bo had taken ill.

He was a sickly child, Mountain recalls, ever since he was born, and it seemed the only thing that made him feel better, was when Kajsa held his hand.

And every night, until Bo's fever subsided and the pain stopped, she kept herself firmly planted at his side, his hand in her own.

Kajsa may not have been a faithful wife, but she was a dutiful mother, and it often pained Mountain that he couldn't give her more children.

They'd tried for years, to make more marks along the beams of their house, but the cradle Mountain had lovingly crafted for Bo before his birth had been turned into kindling by their tenth year of marriage.

It had been a struggle, and a hard road to acceptance, but maybe it was the universe's way of telling him something much worse than a storm was coming on the horizon.

Had Mountain left behind more children...

"Enjoying the view?"

Mountain turns and sees the gardener standing there, still dressed in the clothes she wears to tend to the fields; Blue overalls and flannel covered in dirt, and a pair of boots that look like they've got maybe one more season in them before they fall to pieces.

"Hardly." he replies, settling in the grass, leaning back on his palms, "...Shouldn't you be over at the cabin watching the fire?"

Bea sits down beside him.

"Nah, I made Rain keep an eye on it." she says, then adding, "He got too cold coming out of the lake, so he's parked in front of the fireplace warming up."

"And you?" he asks.

"Needed to clear my head."

He tilts his head, eyeing the introspective look on her face.

"You want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly... not unless you wanna hear me bitch..." she huffs, folding her hands in her lap, "What about you? What's on your mind?"

"Family." he says, fixing his gaze back on the lake, watching the water ripple in the breeze, shivering slightly when it carries a sharper chill than expected up the hill, "...Missing them."

Bea hums thoughtfully and looks at the cabin.

"Bo and Kajsa, right?"

He nods.

"Mn." Bea shifts slightly, her knee bumping against his, "Y'ever... ya know, look them up? Done one of those genealogy site things?"

Mountain shakes his head.

"It was a long time ago, we didn't even have a surname when we married, Kajsa and I, and Bo... Even if this body still had the same blood flowing in it as it did back then, Bo was not..."

"He was my son." he says, then softly whispers, "...he was my son."

Bea lays back in the grass.

"Do you think you were you a good dad?" she asks, and Mountain tilts his head to look at her.

"I... I don't know." he admits, "I tried to be."

"And was Bo a good son?"

Mountain smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling, the fondness bleeding out in the tears gathering there.

A lone bird calls across the lake, a gentle whistle in the silence that falls between them.

"...The best I could ask for."

Bea gives a little laugh and smiles at that.

"I think you were probably a good dad." she says after a moment, "...What's keeping you from having that, again?"

"It's not so simple." he shrugs, "I know it's been centuries... but being here, back in this place, so close..."

He eyes the cabin.

"...It's hard to move on." he says, "I think it must be an earth ghoul thing."

"Mn, maybe you're just nostalgic... Or whatever the word would be..." she mumbles, closing her eyes, "Can't relate."

"You don't get caught up in the past sometimes?" he questions, and Bea stretches, giving a yawn.

"Can't say I do, 'least not in a good way." she says, "My experience with family isn't... It's not great. Not gonna get into that though, cause, again, I don't think you wanna hear me bitch."

"Honestly? You never talk about your family, so... Bitch away?" he tries, and Bea cracks an eye open to shoot him a look he can't quite unpack the meaning of, "If you want to that is."

Bea sits up.

"Okay." she shrugs, "I'll give you the basics."

She turns to face him.

"High school dropout falls for a drummer in a shitty indie band from fucking Scranton, who's at least ten years older than her, but she loves him soooo much that she lets him hit even though she's barely nineteen, and winds up with a baby in return." she points at herself, "Her overly religious divorcee mother kicks her to the curb and she winds up raising the brat out of the backseat of a Honda Civic, until she decides it's a waste of her time and drops the kid off on her dad's doorstep in fuckin' middle of nowhere Ohio, who fucking hates her."

"Kid spends the next few years counting down the days until she turns eighteen, leaves home." she says, "...Almost makes the same mistakes as her mother. Couple more years go by, and, boom, here we are."

"That's..." Mountain frowns.

"Some other stuff probably happened in-between," Bea scratches her chin, "But I legitimately can't remember shit, man, I blocked, like, 98% of my childhood from my brain."

"...Sounds like the past comes back to haunt you in a differently than it does for me." Mountain lands on after processing the information he's been given, "...Fuck."

"Yeah..." she blinks, "I just realized that was pretty intense out of nowhere."

"I mean, it's..." Mountain plucks some grass and twists it between his fingers, "...I never learn things about you in a normal way."

"I'm working on that." she says, "I can never tell how much to... words and all that. I'm not fanciful or articulate like you, Mount. I've got no gauge that tells me to shut up when I'm being too much."

"If it was too much, I'd tell you." he comments, flicking the grass into Bea's lap, "I'm the one who asked."

"Still... Ugh, forget it." she sighs, ripping up a clump of grass and shaking the dirt from it, "You were being all... thinky about your family, and I'm over here like, 'Bah, family sucks!'... Sorry."

"It's fine."

"Mn..."

Mountain watches the dirt scatter into the undergrowth.

"Do you... You asked me if I ever wanted to have a family again, but what about you? Do you want to get married? Have kids?"

Bea scrunches up her face.

"Marriage isn't on my agenda right now... Maybe in the future, but it's not a priority." she shrugs, "As for kids, can you seriously imagine me as a mom? I'll let you stick to the parent thing."

"Fair enough."

The smoke from the cabin grows a little darker.

"...You think he's burning something in there?" Mountain asks, then sniffs the air, "Smells like... salmon?"

Bea jumps to her feet, "THAT ASSHOLE IS GONNA MAKE THE WHOLE PLACE SMELL LIKE FISH-"

Mountain snorts as he watches the gardener run off.

"She's an odd duck." he says, laying down in the grass and closing his eyes for a second before sitting back up again, "...Then again, if the cabin burns down, I think Kajsa will haunt me for real-"

[augustraine]

Smut for my best pookie question mark?

This might've been the most bizarre situation you've ever been in. Which is saying a lot for someone who was a child solider in a war. But here you were in your apartment, your roommate gone to her boyfriends place, hotboxing the living room with your ex boyfriend and the man you've had a crush on since your first year of U.A. If you were told about this blunt rotation back then you'd have cried laughing. But God were you thankful to see it. Iida wasn't as stiff as he was in U.A, and it was more than the weed in his lungs. He was currently laid back relaxed againstthe couch. Arms on the top of your sofa. His head was leaned back and his legs unconsciously spread. You took a hit while eying him. He was definitely feeling the effects if he was this open. You glanced at your past boyfriend Denki. He was a good boyfriend. A fun one. All your firsts. He was already looking at you with his head tilted. He wasn't an immature teenage boy anymore, he was strong with a body littered in scars from his quirk and his work. And his legs were also spread. And now maybe this was the weed talking, after all it takes a lot of smoke to hotbox a living room, but you can't decide which one you want to steal away to your room.

Denki laughed at you, noticing the battle in your head for each man. Now Denki was no idiot. He knew of your crush on the uptight class president. However the strangest thing is that he didn't find himself minding. He'd find you're eyes wander to Iida in the common room while in his arms. And he'd find himself staring Iida down too. Iida was a fit man, even in U.A. he was just so focused on becoming someone worthy of the title of Ingenium he never noticed the wandering eyes. He didn't realize he was why yours and Denkis relationship ended. He was genuinely saddened to hear it. You both can tell the other is thinking about the breakup when you pass the blunt to Denki. Your eyes never leaving each others. You had ended it. It was when you finally realized it was more than just thinking Iida was attractive. And Denki didn't deserve that. Of course you managed to say anything other than that. But he knew. Your eyes fell to his lips as he inhaled. You had stayed close through out though. And now in your mid 20's you wanted to kindle the spark between you again.

"Eyes up here" He said with a smile. You looked up, caught in the act. But you didn't say anything.

"Pass it to me again" Iida said rearranging himself to be closer to you two, "Please."

"Never expected you to be begging for a blunt class pres." You hummed. And if you didn't know he was high before you do now because Iida rolled his eyes. You hadn't been a class in 6 years, but everyone still couldn't help the urge to tease him like you were. Denki leaned back into his part of the couch, groaning as he got comfortable. And that's when you realized he was looking Iida up and down. Well shit. Maybe everyone can be happy. You tilted your head to Denki with a knowing look, even if it had been half a decade you still knew what that look on his face meant. Now you just need to see what Iida thought of the two of you.

Iida thought he was fucked. He was sweating from the heat but also the looks you and denki have been sending each other. He felt like he was intruding on something that should be for your eyes only. First impressions go he thought you guys were annoying. His tune changed when you guys got together though. His mood soured whenever he was in a conversation with you and Denki joined in. His friends told him he had a crush on you, and maybe he did but you had a boyfriend. And he had a title he needed to work to earn, and so he let it go. He would never admit to sighing in relief when he heard the news. And he felt instantly evil about it. So now to be in the same dark, smokey room as you two. We'll let's just say he's nervous. And ever since graduation Denki has been pushing his buttons in a different way. When you two turned to him with smiles on your faces he feared he miscalculated. He was now a pawn in your games. He inhaled deeper than he should've to ease his nerves, causing him to cough.

Seeing Iida cough you quickly passed him a glass of water from the table. His thanks was so quiet you couldn't even hear it. And thats when you saw the red from his neck to his ears. He had the sense to be looking down to not show the worst of it. Denki got up and sat so close to Iida that their thighs were completely touching.

"Someone get this away from me." Iida muttered. Denki took it from his fingers and gave it to you. Not knowing when to quit you breathed in while watching Denki put his arm around Iida, eyes narrowing when he started whispering in his ear. Iida tried to say something sternly before stopping in his tracks completely. He covered his face with one of his hands. But he didn't think to cover his erection.

"Thereee we go Iida." Denki said sliding his other hand to Iidas thigh. " I knew you'd be into this. I mean you were into her when we were kids yeah? We were into you too."

Your eyes widened. Never knowing about Denkis feelings. You got up to the other side of Iida, tilting your head at him. He looked at you guilty before what denki said sunk in. He looked at you too shyly, it was extremely out of character but then again him smoking was too.

"Is that so Iida?" You whispered, teasing him. He didn't notice the undertone though when he answered.

"Hes speaking the truth." He looked away only to be trapped in Denkis gaze.

"Why don't we make up for that?" Denki said leaning in.

And instead of Iida saying no, he closed the space. And fuck was it hot. While denki was rough with want and years of watching, Iida was strongly romantic. And you were feeling left out. You held his bicep before you starting kissing his neck. And the groan he let out gave you goosebumps. Iida was sandwiched between two of the hottest people he'd ever seen. With you basically on his lap and Denki with his knees on the couch grabbing his hair and your thigh, he felt like he was in heaven. It was so so hot in here. Iida didn't want to but he had to break the kiss to breathe, and that's when you sat fully on him and turned to make out with Denki. This was a motion you two had mastered awhile ago, but with Iida here it felt so new and thrilling. You grinded down on Iida while you and denki held each others faces in a desperate grip. Iida groaned and his head fell back. He gripped your waist before grinding back at you making you gasp. You broke the kiss to throw your head back and Denki turned to start biting Iidas neck.

"Its too hot in here." Iida mumbled mindlessly. You both hummed in response before taking your shirts off. Both men groaned when they saw you didn't have a bra on.

"Missed this." Denki quickly said before grabbing your breasts. You moaned grasping his head as he leaned to take one your nipples in your mouth. Iida was never one for even porn but watching you he thought he was gonna cum in his pants not being touched. You and denki had started moving in ways you had a million times before. Iida started to get self conscious before Denki popped off,

"Wanna try?" And Denki pushed his head to you. You gripped Iidas shoulders while Denki took his pants off. He was so rock hard kirishima would've been jealous.

You whispered into Iidas ear, "think you can take both of us?" And he groaned sending more pleasure down your spine. He nodded but looked like a lost puppy.

"Here you go." Denki brought his hand to his dick and head falling back when Iida started pumping. Turned out Iida was a great multitasker. Grabbing your waist grinding while jerking off Denki. It kept going until you gasped finally being pushed over the edge. Iida quickly followed, ruining his pants. The image of this cause Denki to cum, paining Iidas hand and your thigh.

"Shit" You panted coming down.

" You can say that again." Iida agreed. He gently picked you up and put you next to Denki before getting up. You were both too fuzzy to know or care what he was doing. But he came back with a washcloth for the two of you. He kissed both of you before laying down.

"Dude your poor pants." Denki snickered.

"Oh don't start."

You smiled between them before falling asleep.

[deadpresidents]

I stopped procrastinating and am finally reading Grant's autobiography. A few chapters in, I'm surprised by how readable and relatable they are. Having been raised on Mark Twain, how much influence did he have over the final version? Or are we reading most of Grant's original words?

The Personal Memoirs of Ulysses S. Grant (BOOK | KINDLE) really is a great book. It's not always easy to read things written in the 19th Century because the rhythm of the writing is usually so much more formal than we are used to now. But Grant's Memoirs flow really well, and I think anybody interested in the era should have Grant's book at the top of their reading list. I'd especially recommend checking out the annotated edition released in 2017 by Belknap Press/Harvard University Press (that's the version I linked at the beginning of the paragraph). But the beauty of Grant's book is that you don't need annotations because the prose is so clear and easy to read.

As for the authorship, there have been rumors about the part that Mark Twain played in the writing of the book ever since the book was finished literally a few days before Grant died in 1885. And the flames were also fanned by Grant's former military aide Adam Badeau who helped Grant in the early stages of the writing process and was bitter about not getting paid more money, so he also claimed to be Grant's ghostwriter. But while Twain did help with some editing, his major role was in getting the book published in the best way to ensure that Grant's family would benefit financially from its publication. Grant wrote the book because he was broke and dying, and he wanted to make sure his family was going to be okay. Twain didn't think the contract that Grant was about to sign with a publisher to write the book was fair and felt that Grant could make significantly more money selling the book via a subscription service (the original deal was supposed to net Grant 10% of the royalties; Twain's deal guaranteed Grant 70% of the royalties). So the most significant part that Twain played was in regard to the finances, which again was the reason why Grant was writing the book in the first place.

Twain definitely helped Grant with proofreading and literary advice throughout the writing process, but Grant had started writing the book before Twain was involved and had already been writing articles about his Civil War experiences for magazines and serials for a few years. There is a unique voice to Grant's writing style and I think it is clearly recognizable, especially in comparison to how other public figures wrote at the time. So, it's definitely Grant's book. Plus, the Library of Congress still has the original manuscript of Grant's Memoirs (alongside all of his other papers and correspondence) and every page of the book was handwritten by Grant.

•One of my favorite photos in Presidential history is this one of a gravely ill Ulysses S. Grant, who by this point could no longer speak because of the throat cancer that was killing him (he had to write notes to communicate with his family and his doctors), feverishly writing to finish his book at his cottage on Mount McGregor in the Adirondacks of New York:

The photo was taken on June 27, 1885. Grant finished writing his Memoirs on July 19, 1885. Four days later, on July 23, 1885, he died at the age of 63.

[amrass]

RDR2 fanfic recommendations

I began this a month ago, then posted days ago, then realized marking posts as private makes me the only one who's can see them. Huh! So, I repost!

This is a spotlight with a handful of Ao3 RDR2 fanfics I enjoy. I got specific tastes, so this list has lots of Micah, and everything from gen fics to dead doves, randomly ordered. Please consider checking these out and give the writers some love. Chances are you have read a few already, but hey, you might find something new.

My Country has no Borders by Spacehat

You know the rare moment when a fic is so good it satisfies your whole need for a pairing or a character? Whenever I wanna read about Dutch, Hosea, a young Arthur, and Vandermorgan, I read this and boom, satisfaction. Literary level writing, masterful nonlinear time frame, and a spot on character analysis of Dutch. 

Wagers of Sin by Spacehat

The first Morbell fic I read that made me go hallelujah. Power bottom Micah, confident and mischievous, a well endowed and hard ass Arthur. The humor and the smut work so well together, the banter is excellent, and it's less dark than MChnB, for a lighter taste. Many of my Morbell headcanons are from here, so if you like my work, you might like this, though I consider the style better than mine.

The Mule by jenny_of_oldstones

Funny oneshot with crack elements, about a race between Arthur on his trusty mule Rooster vs Micah on Baylock. A very good take on Lenny, intelligent and witty, potentially the future leader of the gang. Arthur is funny and cute. Micah is an asshole, and awful fun. 

Vengeance is Hereby Mine by Delta_Meow

Crossovers do not get the attention they deserve, and this can be read without having seen the Dollars Trilogy (specifically A Few Dollars More, my personal favorite). There are three very strong leads - Arthur, Manco and Mortimer - with interesting relationships between each other, heaps of sexual tension, extensive horse knowledge, action, drama and a little American serial killer folklore! Also Micah owns the chapter he is in - very evil, very nice.

Red Dead Stuart Little AU by SourApplechips

This is a super cute and funny series, containing fics with the "everything is the same except one thing"; Micah is a rat, and John is a squirrel. There is an animated writing style that lends itself well to humor, a good eye for detail, a good grip on action and banter. I still seek these out when I am having a bad day. Also, it is interesting to note the connection between humor and horror, here: the writer masters both, which require a sense of timing and tension.

Here is a trio of dark fics within Morbell pairing, which are short or in their beginning, all ongoing. A lot of people only read complete fics, but supporting a writer in their journey can be so meaningful, so please give these a try: The World by SourApplechips (good take on the horror genre, top notch gore, excellent scenery details), Kindling Play by ohcmonjustdont (mythological, deeply poetic, and damn hot smut) and Idiotic Bull by zzzzzz01 (coiling dialogue and a good mix of violence and sensuality). I will not compare, but will rather point them out within a context of what honestly feels like a renaissance of Micah content. The characters feel like outlaws, the landscape - so clear in the game - is so present but conveyed differently, overall it is nice to see three unique voices emerge around the same time.

Nailed Her Pretty Good by SadomasochismTango

An unusual take on a Micah x random bathing girl fic, written from his perspective as an unreliable narrator with a strong dick game, making this deliciously dubious, but also is an excellent character study of him. This might be the piece on this list where the reader best feels Micah's age. He feels like a confident, creepy, forty year old outlaw. Also, the writer is a confirmed Tom Lehrer fan! Great!!!

Home in Damnation by SadomasochismTango

This is might be the darkest story on this list, so I'm hiding it at the bottom. This contains non-descriptive forced noncon incest in the Bell family, between grandfather and grandson. Still, this is tastefully done, direct but not crude, mixing extreme emotions beautifully. This is my favorite fanfic about Micah because it is so well written. If you can stomach the warnings I cannot recommend this enough.

(PS: If a writer for ever which reason wants me to remove their work from here, I will do it no questions asked and with no bad feelings. I think most authors are okay with being recommended, but it is completely okay not to be!)

[bomberqueen17]

Lotfus Bralette Sewalong: Construction 1

ok things I've learned: it'd be easier if I used a different fabric for main and lining, and it would be easy if that fabric had an obvious right and wrong side. Despite all my labeling and stickering and everything I *still* sewed a panel in wrong, and it was a nightmare making sure everything was mirror-imaged correctly.

All that said, I had to unpick a total of one seam (but unpicked two by accident, argh), and there's a sudden point where you have everything assembled and you're like..... none of this needs labels any more, and you have to peel them all off before you can continue. And it comes suddenly. So.

I'm not finished but I'm really near the end. It's a lot of fussy little sewing, but the seams are like ten inches long max, it really doesn't take very long.

This being my muslin, I have focused on getting everything put together and have not paid attention to seam finishing, trimming, grading, pressing etc. My next version, I will do those things, but I've omitted them from this version because I still don't know if the thing is going to fucking fit, I'm not topstitching something if I might have to tear it all back out, though let's be realistic I'm not going to disassemble this thing, if it turns out unwearable I'm just going to cut the notions off and start over. It's not that much fabric. I will make minor tweaks probably, but generally it is not going to be worth it to pull this apart. (Exception: if it's too large I would cut seams off and sew it smaller. But it will not be too large, I already know that from the approximate shove-my-boob-meat-into-a-half-of-it not-exactly-try-on-- it is certainly not too big, but I can't tell if it's too small because without the elastic and fasteners it's not pulled closely enough to me to be sure. It feels like there's not enough fabric to go around, but I know the wide band elastic covers a lot of territory, so I'm reserving judgement.)

So. How far did I get? Well.

[img description: this is the cluttered basement setup. Image shows a blue rubbermaid tote lid with a tall rim leaning on a pile of stuff on a cluttered desk, and on the lid is a Kindle with the sewing instructions loaded up, one half of the bra cup assembled, several pattern pieces, and next to the rim is a large box of yellow-headed quilting pins.]

I sent this setup photo to my family groupchat when we were discussing what we're doing with our weekends. (One younger sister is camping in Vermont with husband and kid, the other was gardening and found a big shed snakeskin which was cool, Mom was visiting a brew pub in fort edward and sent a photo of what looked like a pole to me and said "there's edward" and i don't get the joke, and the oldest sister had just taken her daughter to get her ears pierced, which among our people is a sign of young adulthood. Not that it's relevant to the sewalong but this is my blog after all, LOL.)

I had to unpick a seam but progress was quick after that.

[image description: an assemblage of fabric, with a pin in it, going through the throat plate of a sewing machine. The lower fabric is pink, the top fabric white. Both are decorated with Sharpie marks around the edge. The pink is nonstretch nylon tricot, the white is heavy duty powermesh.]

When it came time to attach the powerbar to the cup lining, I felt that the video sewalong had said to have the powermesh side up. The issue here is that the bra cup and lining are non-stretch fabric, as the pattern is written, and the powerbar and back band are stretch fabric, specifically powermesh (which has superior recovery to other stretch fabrics and so is indispensible in bras and compression garments). And attaching stretch to nonstretch is always a little bit of a nightmare, and generally is inadvisable, but bras break the rules in many ways and that's why so many of us are intimidated about bras.

I discovered immediately that sewing with the nonstretch side against the feed dogs and the stretch side against the presser foot was a NO GO. The stretch fabric would get pulled by the presser foot wildly out of shape, and I kept having to raise the presser foot and shove at the fabric to keep it aligned, and I kept wobbling my seam all over the place and it was awful. So I flipped it over and put the stretch fabric against the feed dogs instead, and then had zero further issues. I have not re-checked the sewalong, and the pattern instructions do not specify, but for my own reference, always put the stretch fabric against the feed dogs, that is unambiguously what worked here.

I also broke my anti-topstitching-on-muslins stance here and did topstitch the seam after I attached the back band to the cups. I wasn't doing it anywhere else, but I think it's necessary there, to hold everything down. There's gonna be SO much strain on that seam.

[image description: a pale pink, quite substantial bra, though it only looks fully assembled, lying on the talbe in front of a sewing machine. There's no center gore so it's only arranged as if assembled. But the cups are visibly partly self-supporting, because they're now three layers of fabric, so they're approximately boob-shaped, and hilariously fleshtoned in this light, I did not think this through.]

I got this far, both cups and linings assembled, with the powermesh in the middle. And then I had to make the center gore, which didn't go together the way I expected at all. You sew it in two halves, and then sew the halves together, which I had not expected and could not make myself understand. I did it, and then re-watched the sewalong afterward, and i'm still not sure I did it right, but mine did go on and looks right so I guess even if I did do something not the way the sewalong suggests I did it right enough that it works.

The frustrating thing is that you make the center gore and then set it aside, though, LOL. So I had to make it, then put the neck elastic on, and then check again.

I was SO confused by the elastic. You sew it on right sides together, and then flip it to the inside of the bra and topstitch it from the outside. So you want to sew it in such a way that just a little edge of it, which may or may not have decorative picots because it depends what you bought, will overhang when you flip it. So you want to sew it down along the MARKED SEW LINE on your strap, and if there's a bunch of extra wobbly edges and shit, sew to the inside of that, and you can trim them off after. This is where you compensate for wobbly cutting and wobbly sewing and wobbly putting-layers-together, and it's brilliant.

I didn't do it right but I will next time now that I understand that. And Jenn from Porcelynne *does* explain that, explicitly, in the sewalong, but I watched the sewalong ahead of time and couldn't remember in the moment. So this is me reinforcing it: your whole neckline edge, sew that elastic just so and once you flip it, it will look like you lined everything up perfectly. And you don't have to stretch as you sew for the whole strap bit, and there's only a tiny bit of stretching as you sew down around the cup, and it ends right where your powerbar came in, so it's a nice continuous band of stretch all the way around your boob.

And THEN you stick the center gore in, sandwiched, before you flip the elastic, and it looks weird as hell and no way could this be right. But then once you flip the thing, sure enough, there's just a cute decorative bit of elastic between the cup and center gore, and it looks good as hell.

(I mean, it doesn't on my muslin, but it will when I make a nice version. My muslin is hideous LOL, and I'm not worried in the slightest.)

[image description: an expanse of pale pink fabric with disconcertingly peach-colored elastic running down the middle of it.]

That's what the elastic looks like topstitched down, and there's the center gore with a big sharpie mark down the middle because i meant to turn that bit to the inside but put it in backwards. Oh well.

and this is the back, where the elastic's sewn down: if I was doing a finished one, I could trim off all those odd little bits sticking out where the three layers of fabric didn't quiiiiite go together evenly, and it would look finished and polished and lovely.

[image description: a bit of pale pink fabric flipped to the back. The peach elastic at the top has a couple wobbly lines of stitching on it, and some sharpie-bordered white fabric is sticking out and looks wobbly and terrible, and there are unclipped loose gray threads from construction everywhere.]

I'm not even saving that much time by making the muslin shitty, LOL. I'm just figuring, I need to see how it goes together before I get hung up on the cute details. I have enough of this exact fabric to use it again, but I also have a cute kit, a bunch of salvaged notions, and an intense desire to use a whole variety of other nontraditional bra fabrics, so I'm not that worried.

I should buy cuter elastic though. Elastic can't really be salvaged, not nicely. I'll have to pick up some cute stuff with decorative picots and whatnot. The supply list doesn't specify that you need picots, but then the instructions assume you have them, which confused me. The point is, you should sew the elastic at a point where some of it will protrude past the turned edge, because that's the correct look and function, and you should buy elastic that's not too scratchy.

I know a lot of people are concerned with bras being scratchy. I personally have never been irritated by the seams or fabric of a bra, but I HAVE been wildly irritated by the edge of the hook-and-eye band, the tips of side boning if there is any, and the STRAP elastic being shitty. So I will be focusing my energies on those.

I'm also thinking about making a bra in one layer, with binding over the seams and the powerbar made of stretch lace with a decorative edge, and put on the exterior of the single layer. That would be possible. The two-layer construction of this is kind of bulky and I get why it's like that, but my heavy-duty chestmeats aren't necessarily that heavy-duty.

I'm also going to make this in knit fabric, and am perusing all the Cashmerette Club discussion boards (where much of the pattern design team does lurk) for pointers on alternate materials and such, and I'll compile what I learn and post it here don't worry. (The number one thing is that if you make it in knits, size down one cup size. The number two thing is that if you make it with a fabric that stretches, match the stretch between the outer and lining fabric, it HAS to be the same. And example one is a fellow-commenter told me she made the whole thing in powermesh, sized down one cup size as per recommendation, and it worked perfectly. So we have that as a datapoint.)

(I don't love powermesh for its own merits but I cannot deny, it recovers perfectly, until it doesn't and you throw the bra out, so from a functional standpoint, it's The Thing to use. I'm taking apart old bras for notions and that's the thing I see-- when the powermesh went, I had to stop wearing that bra. But most of them, I busted the underwire channeling or the hooks first. Because they were DDs and I was a J, mostly, but. Hey. Yeah some other time I'll write a post about my horrible struggles with bras and how long I spent with everyone telling me it wasn't possible to be more than a DD and i must be having a body wrong somehow.)

ANYhoo.

I had to stop to make dinner after attaching the neckband elastic and center gore. So at some point today I will venture back down and keep working. The next step is the underarm elastic, and then the straps, and then the hook and eye closure, and then it's done. So I'm pretty close really, but my cat just got into my lap so I won't be headed down there imminently, LOL.

cat tax:

[image description: a white lady in a chair heavily overshadowed by a small gray cat with a white chest patch in the foreground looking extremely smug]

She's helping me post.

[spacecolonie]

Hello! Do you have any advice with painting? Every time I start I end up just doing lineart with colours underneath, and when I do kindles art it looks kind of like plastic. Am I supposed to merge the two layers and then start shading? What would you recommend?

Hey anon!! I actually do have some advice for that!! I'll shove it under a cut because it got way longer than I thought it would, sorry for the infodump everyone _(:3 」∠)_

quick tl;dr: painting process should consider both personal taste & the desired aesthetic of a painting, & to avoid plastic-y colours, make sure your hues vary within your values (and layer modes are ur friend) ♥

there's a million ways to start paintings & its all down to personal preference -- the end goal for the illustration can often influence the approach you take; a crisp digital painting might call for meticulous layering & sharp edged flats, but if you want something to look like an oil painting, you should try and mimic that process as close as you can! here's some examples:

this is the sketch for my FYR zine piece from last year; i intentionally approached it in a way that looks like traditional underpaintings so that when I worked directly on top, those orange tones would peek through like this:

after doing that undersketch, i manually painted everything -- no fancy layer modes, just me, one layer, and screaming ಥ_ಥ it was hard but it worked for the vibe i wanted!!

now v.s something like this:

simple shapes, roughly blocked in shading that just gets merged and painted over, as well as lots of layer modes on top for those colour changes! this is by far the easier one & the one i'd probably recommend, solely because it lets you keep more control. i go more in depth here on that -- but to quickly answer, i personally block everything (including shading) in before I merge & render!

for the other thing you mentioned, a lot of the times that 'plastic' feeling can come from either a lack of transitional shades or only using white/black for your value tones. this tweet thread (direct image links 1, 2 & 3) by frozensoba demonstrates it incredibly well -- by adding certain colour shifts in your values, it can create extra depth which is what makes stuff look more alive!! don't be afraid to really push it and get wacky

an easy way to add it while you're learning is using gradient maps to add richness in your midtones. It's not perfect since different surfaces & materials diffuse light differently, but adding one at the end of a drawing can help tie everything together. If you can do both at once though it always looks best; here's some very quick 2 minute orbs as an example:

ok I'm almost done (and im so sorry for how long this got... special interest moment TM) -- one last thing is to try varying your brush strokes & adding textures if you want. using only an airbrush or heavily relying on blurring brushes can make things look plastic too; sometimes you want that, but for the times you don't, adding some texture & leaving brush marks in can do a lot!!

lastly, since this is just me rambling, here are some artists that are incredibly talented & i highly recommend looking at for their advice & processes because it will be much more coherent than this:

Marco Bucci -- amazing educational content. if you check out any of these artists, he's the one to look at first imo. his 10 minutes to better painting series is a great place to start

Sinix Design has some amazing tutorials on anatomy & the mechanics of painting! This video & the intermediate part 2 are super

Dao Trong Le -- a veritable goldmine of speedpaints

Bo Chen & any of the riot splash artists. If that's the vibe you're after, you can't go wrong with the LoL splashes as reference

i hope that helps!!!

[theawkwardterrier]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Blessedly tagged by @walkinginland and @flyinghome-againstthewind so I can participate in one of my favorite activities (talking about myself) during this boring workday!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

173, although I know there are a few that for various reasons I haven't posted on there

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,177,040 which...wow

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Most continuously the MCU (Captain America specifically), Buffyverse, Veronica Mars, and Outlander, but one-offs for many others

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Muscle Memory (Outlander, Jamie/Claire; 18 chapters, complete)

Wingspan (Veronica Mars, Logan/Veronica; 6 chapters, complete)

Here's All the Melting Thrill (And Here's the Kindling Fire) (Outlander, Jamie/Claire; 14 chapters, complete)

things left behind and the things that are ahead (MCU, Steve/Peggy; 43 chapters, complete)

After the War Is Over (Will There Be Any Home Sweet Home?) (Outlander, Jamie/Claire; 6 chapters, complete)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

99% of the time, absolutely. I appreciate them so much, and want to express that, even if I'm a little overwhelmed and just end up saying "Thanks so much for reading!" Sometimes, however, if the comment strikes me as really negative or is trying to start some kind of debate that I don't want to get involved in, I'll just mark as read and move on.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't really write angsty endings! (Usually just angsty middles, and third act twists...) Probably my Veronica Mars fic, We Do Not Flinch, because even though the ending is definitely hopeful, not everything is fixed and the character death is not erased.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Um, basically all of them tbh! I love and reliably provide a happy ending. I guess I'll say Each Step Closer (On Our Way Together) because the whole thing is pretty light and the last section extra so.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Intellectually I know the answer is no. But I have gotten criticism, perhaps validly, about my portrayal of Peggy's emotions in Woman Borne, and also have gotten comments which express frustration with the choices my characters make, and that does feel hurtful in certain ways.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Ehhhhh, very, very lightly. Pretty much just gauzy linguistics and minimal mention of actual body parts - soulmate smut 🤷‍♀️

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Haha, I've written a bunch of AUs that borrow from other fandoms and have a lot of fun with those, but I've only written one partially completed Buffy/Bones crossover

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I think that some of my fics have been included in the kind of automatic sweeps that republish on fake fic sites or ebook sites, but not by an actual person as far as I know.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, although I'd be happy to give permission if someone wanted to!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Lol, no and I can't imagine I'd be an easy writing partner 😂😬

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Skipping because I've found that there isn't necessarily a permanence to it for me.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I don't really have WIPs that have been posted (because I know myself and that would be too stressful for me!) but the long planned out Chase/Cameron fic, or the Veronica Mars one where Wallace was a superhero, or the various ideas I've vaguely started writing within my head.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Mmmm...Occasional nice turns of phrase/unusual uses of language?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Writing visuals or action

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Nervous about it and probably I do it wrong, but I do it anyway 😬

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter back in the day

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I am my own biggest fic critic and also my own biggest fan, so they are all dear to me. I do have a particular love for my Steggy fic things left behind and the things that are ahead and all the characters and bits of the universe that come along with it.

Tagging @roboticonography, @ghostcat3000, @ckerouac, @kairosimperative, and of course my always meme pal, @lavellenchanted!

[echosong971]

On The Nature Of Light

“The Light...well, it's a funny thing.

It's unique to each Guardian, the draw of their Light. No two energies are the same. That's why I could pick my brother out from a sea of Stormcallers if I really wanted to show off. I know the crackle of his Arc and the buzz of his Light like I know the weight of his presence, the shape in which he takes up space—it's a signature so electric and so uniquely him. I know it so well that it surprises me when people don't notice him.

But apparently, there's even more to this story. Somethin' I just found out.

See, you spend time with someone for long enough, be intimate with them long enough, and somethin' real funny happens with your Light:

It leaves traces. Imprints.

I go up to my partner and I can feel it. Within the smolderin' furnace of Solar Light radiating from his body, I sense it. It curls through his systems and courses through his mechanical body—a slithering line of Void tanglin' with his Light. It's small, yet its draw is strong. Potent. Heavy. I can feel its presence in my chest like how I feel the snap of a tether when it breaks; it's intrinsic and second-nature, as natural as breathing. I can feel the way his flames interact with it. Instead of swallowin' it, they merely embrace it, envelop it, accept it as if it were one with him.

I found myself wonderin' if he feels it too, that piece of me within him. I wonder if he can feel the mark I've left on what is the closest thing to a soul we have.

Then, I wonder if he's marked me.

I found that if I close my eyes and focus real hard, I can sense it. I can sense the roaring flame within the empty expanse of my Void Light, flickering so brightly within the abyss, refusing to be devoured. Yet the gaping darkness merely cradles it, holds it, kindles it so that it burns for the rest of time.

I can feel the spark of his Light burnin' bright in my chest, warming me from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. I feel the imprint he's left on me, the piece of him I carry with me everywhere I go.

I feel the marks our Lights have left on each other.

And I smile.”

- from the journals of Echo-3

[the-scaredy-crow]

OC Deep Dive

Thank you for the tag @finickyfelix! It's been a couple weeks! Between work, moving into my apartment, and school starting again, I have fallen behind on tags a bit, but I finally carved out some time to work on them.

I will be filling this out for both MCs in Kindling Bones, which means we finally get to see Adam in one of these games for once.

I'm leaving an open tag for anyone who wants to try this out. Happy writing! <3 (Template is at the end of the post)

What common/uncommon fears do they have?

Rhys: His two biggest fears are fire and losing people. He also gets scared by loud noises, like explosions pretty easily.

Adam: Adam has a big fear of failure and of disappointing literally anyone. Most people probably aren't scared to take pills, but Adam won't even take pain medicine unless it's absolutely necessary.

Do they have any pet peeves?

Rhys: Nosiness, staring, questions, etc... (he is loving all these questions)

Adam: Irresponsible pet ownership.

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

Rhys: His barely-unpacked suit case, a charging port, and his most prized possession: a nautical key chain his brother got from some tourist-trap. It never leaves his person, so it isn't always in that room specifically.

Adam: His bedroom is a lot more cluttered. The top three things include: a calendar marked with due-dates and inspirational messages; his desk, littered with textbooks, playbills, and markers; and the occasional foster cat or patient from the vet who needed a little extra help with pain.

What do they notice first in a person?

Rhys: He pays close attention to how much the other person notices about him. If they have a neck tattoo, he notices that even quicker.

Adam: He is very perceptive in a way most people don't notice. Adam knows the signs of someone in pain—physical, mental, or emotional—and is good at spotting them.

On a scale of 1 to 10 how high is their pain tolerance?

Rhys: His pain tolerance is probably a bit heightened after being nearly killed in a fire. It's not much more than an average person's though. Maybe a six or seven?

Adam: Definitely a 10. His ability allows him to take pain from others, so he's been in pain for much of his life.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

Rhys: As much as he believes himself a runner, he is definitely more the type to freeze. It is very hard for him to react any other way.

Adam: He might not look like it, but Adam goes into fight. When it comes down to it, Adam is the type to run into danger rather than from it.

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

Rhys: It was mostly just him and his brother, Zach, growing up. Zach's friends welcomed Rhys into their group and acted more like a family than their parents ever did. He is a huge family person; it just happens to be more found family for him.

Adam: He is an only child. His parents constantly teeter between being overwhelmingly controlling and completely detached. Luckily for Adam, his aunt and uncle are happy to act as pseudo-parents. He would love to have a close family one day.

What animal represents them best?

Rhys: He is a raccoon on so many levels. For one, he is obsessed with finding his brother. Nothing will make him let go of this obsession, not even the knowledge that he's actively being hunted. He would also chew his own arm off if he was trapped. All in all, he just very much has raccoon vibes to me.

Adam: You would think he is a cat with how much time he spends with them. I think elephants represent him best, though. Elephants are highly empathetic. They are known to care for others and for their kindness. Adam is extremely empathetic, so it fits him well.

What is a smell they dislike?

Rhys: Smoke. It brings back very bad memories.

Adam: He can't stand the smell of alcohol anymore. He also doesn't like the smell of hospitals—not an easy thing to dislike as a nursing student.

Have they broken any bones?

Rhys: Sort of?

Adam: He hasn't broken a bone, but he has felt the pain of doing so when using his ability.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

Rhys: He has been described by people in town as scarred, broody, mysterious, and by some as attractive—though it makes him uncomfortable to hear.

Adam: Everyone describes him as kind. The rest varies greatly depending on what context they meet him in.

Are they a night owl or a morning bird?

Rhys: A morning person. He struggles to sleep a lot, but he is always up for his morning run with the sun or before it.

Adam: He is a bit more of a night owl, mostly just because he is definitely not a morning bird. The only reason he is ever up before eight is for a shift, a class, or because one of the animals needs pills/treatment/to be let out/etc.

What is a flavor they love and a flavor they hate?

Rhys: He loves spicy food and hates coffee and anything overwhelmingly sweet.

Adam: Pretty much the opposite: Adam loves sweets and hates anything too spicy.

Do they have any hobbies?

Rhys: Running, reading, hiking.

Adam: Acting, art, volunteering; does fostering animals count as a hobby?

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises?

Rhys: Surprises are not a great idea for him. Once he settles down from the initial spook, he would be really touched and might tear-up a bit.

Adam: At this point, he would probably assume it's an intervention. He also doesn't handle surprises very well anymore, but he would definitely appreciate the effort.

Do they like to wear jewelry?

Rhys: This one depends on your definition of jewelry. And it's not so much like as much as it is that he has to.

Adam: He loves wearing jewelry! Rings, necklaces, earrings, he wears it all.

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

Rhys: He used to have decent handwriting, but he's probably a bit rusty since he hasn't done much writing in a few years outside of rushed notes.

Adam: His handwriting is downright illegible. He is decent at doodling though. For work, Marty wrote his name on his name tag, and Adam decorated it.

What are the two emotions they feel most?

Rhys: Fear and guilt.

Adam: Love and guilt.

Do they have a favorite fabric?

Rhys: He will wear pretty much anything that doesn't touch his skin too much.

Adam: He isn't super picky about fabric either, but he does love stolen clothes...

What kind of accent do they have?

Rhys: He might have some sort of European accent? Or something from a port city?

Adam: His accent would probably be some Midwestern (US) mix? (That's where I'm from, and everyone says I have a very thick accent, but I am imaging his more faintly.)

// I honestly have no idea; I usually leave this kind of thing up to whoever is reading it.

~

Here's the template:

What common/uncommon fears do they have? Do they have any pet peeves? What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom? What do they notice first in a person? On a scale of 1 to 10 how high is their pain tolerance? Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure? Do they come from a big family/are they a family person? What animal represents them best? What is a smell they dislike? Have they broken any bones? How would a stranger likely describe them? Are they a night owl or a morning bird? What is a flavor they love and a flavor they hate? Do they have any hobbies? Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises? Do they like to wear jewelry? Do they have neat or messy handwriting? What are the two emotions they feel most? Do they have a favorite fabric? What kind of accent do they have?

[authorsadiethatcher]

It's time for another State of the Thatcher address. And this year I do it on the American Independence Day. For those who are celebrating, enjoy the day.

The last couple months have been filled with a lot of work, writing multiple books, as well as my next fantasy novel. There have been a few ups and downs over that time, with Amazon being slow to publish a few books. But overall, everything is going along as planned.

I've got a few special things happening this month. At the top of the list is the books I have in the Smashwords Summer (winter for those in the southern hemisphere) Sale. A bunch of my back catalogue books are available for half off all month. Link below.

I am also participating in the Fantasy Romance Book Fair this month, with all the participating books available in Kindle Unlimited. I know where I'll be picking up my next fantasy reads this month. https://books.bookfunnel.com/fantasyromancejuly/5o7c1hfzq6

Amazon is where most people find my books, so here’s a link to my catalogue: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Sadie-Thatcher/author/B00B4MINAC

Smashwords is a great place to buy books, especially if you don’t like Amazon’s evil empire. You can find them here: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/sadiethatcher

Plus, you can find them at the Google Play bookstore: https://play.google.com/store/books/author?id=Sadie+Thatcher

I’ve added a new way you can get my books. It’s called Ream and it’s a bit like Patreon, but its author specific, made by authors for authors. In addition getting to read all of my new books for a monthly subscription fee, I also give you access to the images that didn't quite make the cut for my covers. You can see my Ream page here: https://reamstories.com/page/lhssployqw

Additionally, my books are available through Apple, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Scribd. I don’t have links to those stores handy, but if that’s where you like to buy books from, my books will show up there, eventually. I distribute through Smashwords and have to wait until the review team there approves my books for distribution. This can take days or even weeks.

If fantasy is your thing, take a look at all of my novels under my other pen name here: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Libby-Feron/author/B09PJ9J5RN

And if you sign up for the Libby Feron newsletter, you get exclusive content and updates like cover reveals before anyone else. I have a bonus prequel scene up for the Magic’s Most Wanted Series that will be exclusive to newsletter subscribers. You can sign up here: https://libbyferon.com/newsletter/

With the fantasy novel plug complete, let me also mention some of the cool stories I have coming out in the next month month.

I’ve got two more books in the Bimbo at Home Series to release. There's conversion into traditional gender roles, harems, lactation, and so much more.

I also have a series upcoming that features a society where all women become bimbos when they turn 21 years old by law. If a woman wants to contribute to society in another way, they have until their 21st birthday to make their mark.

There will be a commission later this month that really focuses on the mental side of bimbofication. This should be a fun one.

Finally, I still intend to eventually release Fake It Until You Make It in audio. However, my narrator is suffering from a late bout of allergies that makes recording difficult. As soon as those allergies clear up, expect progress to be made on that front.

[divtanver]

Metal Virus Story

- Good and Bad -

Awakening, dinner, lunch, breakfast, lights out. A new day, a new cycle. How annoying it all was, even when she had once enjoyed a fight with the security service or members of a rival gangs, it no longer had a kindling spark. Even now, being in her already native solitary confinement, another mess later, a red vixen dressed in a yellow jumpsuit named Fiona still could not calm herself down. The psyche demanded the satisfaction of a wild disposition, and there were not so many available ways of leisure here. If she were free, she would obviously find something to entertain herself with, but here?

Despite many unsuccessful attempts, Fiona still had few options in her head for another escaping from this hole called prison, especially after some of the staff had been withdrawn a day ago and half of the equipment had been taken out. Most likely, this was somehow connected with the recent riots in nearby cities, newly arrived prisoners sometimes told about the events taking place there, but few of those present here believed them. However, the task did not become any easier - strict instructions and enhanced security measures came to replace the departed ones and the things taken with them. On top of this, the volume of food portions given out has recently decreased significantly, which made the outcome of the hunger–weakened venture more obvious than ever - beatings, failure, and a loner cell again. But she wasn't going to give up so easily, since when could difficulties along the way make her give up? No, none of this was capable of deterring this persistent vixen. Neither strong walls, nor a strict security system. But it takes time to think through a good plan, which Fiona had plenty of.

Lying on the cold floor and looking at the ceiling of the cement box, she was mentally outlining the sequence of actions when the flow of her thoughts was interrupted by a noise from outside. A little later, incessant chatter began to emanate from the radio of the standing outside warden. Fiona couldn't make out any of the words, but their loud sounding made it clear the importance of the broadcast. Very soon it's receiver left the corridor in the direction of the stairs, leaving the yellow-suited prisoner alone with herself. It seems that someone managed to get ahead of her.

Jumping to the double bars of a small window on her third floor and clutching them with both hands, she watched as crowds of unknown people entered the courtyard from the entrance gate. They looked strange: ordinary civilians, completely unfamiliar faces, no bandages or noticeable marks hinting at belonging to any criminal group, as well as fabrics hiding their faces. It was thanks to this that the attentive vixen was able to discover something alarming for himself – their glowing red eyes and faces full of malice. Outsiders immediately began to rush at everyone they met. Perimeter guards and security personnel who arrived to help them, instead of the usual expected orders not to move, immediately opened fire upon all of those who approached. However, this did a little to stop the attackers - those who fell to the ground soon got to their feet and again rushed into a suicidal attack. Fiona could have sworn that she saw one of the crowd's member hands torn off, which, however, did not affected the victim's behavior at all.

Retreating personnel and the crowd chasing them very soon disappeared from her sight, while sounds of the struggle shifted somewhere to the first floor, and with them came the shrill screech of a siren and intimidating red emergency lighting. Going back down to the floor, red vixen began to think about what to do next, it was unacceptable to miss this unique opportunity to escape, but... The cell door is strong - can't break it down, the same story with the window, and even with success, there's nothing to do without a rope on the outside. The situation seemed hopeless, all that was left for her to do now was to wait for the rest.

Or else…

A crazy idea popped into her head, Fiona got to her feet and looked at claws. Despite their weekly forced cutting, these incredibly sharp and unusually durable tips grew back quite quickly, which in the current situation was more useful than ever. Leaning on the claw of her finger on the nearby bed, she sharply kicked it off from the phalanx of her finger at the root. Burning pain went through her whole body with an unpleasant impulse, but only an angry exhalation left her lips – one of her methods to endure any torment. Loud noise of the confrontation that had previously existed somewhere deep below has now shifted to the second floor. She quickly began to rub the picked-up fragment of herself against the wall with one end, sharpening it middle to the shape of a straight screwdriver tip with which she could try to unscrew the bolts blocking the axial pin at the intersection of the door hinges, which she eventually succeeded. Now, the iron obstacle standing in the way of freedom could be removed with the use of brute force. But loud noise has already outstripped the savvy tailed one.

*BANG* *BANG* *BANG*

Someone on the other side of the solitary cell was desperately tried to get inside, showering the barrier with a heavy hail of weighty swings and a burst of angry growls. Whoever it was, such intentions were clearly not friendly. Under the pressure of the angered stranger, the previously twisted pins began to bend towards the yellow prisoner, threatening to crush with all the weight of the door they held. With the last push, the rectangular surface separating them fell on the yellow-clothed vixen that was waiting for it. With the opposite, and even stronger impulse she kicked it in the opposite direction. Unexpecting attacker was soon pinned down by so hated obstacle, from under which only twitching limbs with pointed fingers could be seen. But Fiona barely noticed this. Wasting no time in vain, she rushed to run along the corridor towards the stairs, around the turn of which the warden assigned to her had disappeared relatively recently. Going around the corner, she did not meet the password-locked gates she expected, instead there was a wide-open passage that allowed both to go down to the exit and climb up to the roof. Taking into account the sounds of battle that had not yet subsided on the lower floors, she beat off a rhythmic melody along the towering steps that marked the first step towards long-awaited freedom.

The first of an unknown set. The second turned out to be the blue-armored warden standing in the middle of the corridor. Before their gazes crossed, with a sparkling blow of an electric baton armored jailer knocked out a prisoner who were trying resist and, seeing a new target, immediately changed electric charged steel to a plasma blaster and ordered her to lie down on the ground. But instead of the expected submission, received only a sly grin. Even through the opaque visor of protective helmet, Fiona could see an expression of confusion. This one obviously new here, anyone else who knew her would have opened fire right away knowing how dangerous she is. That's her chance to act.

Short moment of confusion turned into a lightning-fast rolling of the red-tailed target towards one of the lead pipes, followed by an equally rapid separation from the water supply system. Belatedly aimed blaster managed to make only a few close-to-hit shots before being knocked out of hand by an oblong object that cut through the air and caused deadly weapon to fly several meters away. Leveling the chances, Fiona were now rapidly closing the distance.

Swing, dodge, somersault and now warden knocked down on the floor, pinned down by a nimble vixen. Small grin shining on her only widened at the sight of the disarmed opponent, satisfied gaze fell on the electric club lying out of reach of the former owner, such ironic outcome of his current situation suggested itself. But the subject of satire himself could hardly understand this, having barely recovered from the stunning, jailer only managed to notice the outlines of suppression instrument towering above. A moment to counteract.

*Ding*

Warden's left elbow protection reflects the attack, quick swing of the right fist forces red vixen to roll backwards, dropping the weapon.

Draw. For now.

Incessant noise from the lower floors is only getting louder, but none of the moral barricades sides paid any attention to it. Staring at each other, they prepared for a new round of confrontation, stretching limbs and examining surroundings. Red paw picks up the earlier throwed lead, blue glove returns it's lost iron. Both opponents are now waiting for the right moment. Light bulb, weakened by energy fluctuations, like a starting pistol gives both of them a signal to start, with the last flash of light and plunges the corridor into low-pitch darkness. A second later, the dull thud of approaching footsteps is replaced by ringing blows from the participants of the conflict who crossed their weighty arguments that, with the sparkling contact of hostile intentions casted shadows of the blue warden and the red prisoner circling in a dangerous dance were carved on the uneven surface of the walls. While the nimble vixen confidently dodged every lunge aimed at her, the armored jailer steadfastly blocked each of her lightning attacks. Despite their increasing fatigue, none of them could afford to stop, just as any decisive blow.

Suddenly, a cellmate, who had been lying unconscious before, came to the vixen's aid. She couldn't see the face, but the physique alone was enough to remember who it was - a weak coward who often did the desired job with a simple snap of her fingers. Pouncing on unsuspecting warden from behind, he knocked his enemy to the floor and, like a madman, began pounding helmet-covered head into the crackling surface of the floor.

'Where did he suddenly got so much strength and character from?' Fiona thought as her pride took its toll.

Even though fumes of heated air were still coming from her lips, she was sure that she could have handled it on her own, and therefore, having replaced her hitherto gambling grin with a displeased expression, red vixen began to scold her uncalled ally for completely unnecessary help. But her indignation was interrupted by a familiar facial feature. Through the darkness surrounding trio, a pair of red glowing eyes with barely noticeable dot pupils stared at her, radiating materialized anxiety. In response to the rebuke, only a guttural growl sounded, as if passed through a broken dictaphone. It echoed down the dark corridor from which rapidly approaching and heavy stepping footsteps now continuously came by the side of the stairwell that had once been left behind. Someone who seemed to be one of her own, having risen to his feet, now turned all his furious attention from the motionless body to the dumbfounded vixen. Instantly released into the blood adrenaline turned the following moments into a creepy slideshow. Gleaming angular teeth. An ineffectual blow. Sharp fingers on a lead pipe and a full of hatred face getting closer and closer, stopping centimeters from her frightened own. With back pressed against the nearest wall, Fiona could only try with all her might not to let herself fall to the floor, simultaneously dodging the sometimes particularly strong attempts of the overly aggressive attacker to cling to her with his sharp fangs. However, each passing second only exhausted the remaining reserves of endurance more and more, while the noise from the stairwell grew more and more menacingly louder and clearer scary. If not for her titanic efforts of will, the muscles aching from hostile pressure would have weakened their resistance long ago, giving her former ally the opportunity to tear the exhausted victim apart. But she held on, at least until the overstressed tendons will begin to rip one by one.

When the sweating fingers seemed about to slip off the only oval barrier separating them, the head of the red-eyed monster, with a flash of bright blue behind, shattered into flickering in the weak light fragments. It immediately let go of the red-tailed vixen and fell on it's side, twitching and writhing, trying to grab a more nonexistent brain. Startled, sky-blue eyes fell on the only possible source of the faded glow - previously lying warden. With one relying hand with an electric baton, jailer rested on the floor, and in the other a trembling blaster, through a hole in the cracked visor of the helmet, a half-closed orange-yellow stared at dumbfounded prisoner.

Behind, at the stairwell checkpoint, pushing each other, crowds of red-eyed monsters, similar to those who drove the guards into the building, had already caught up.

"Run… Please..." The only thing that former opponent could squeeze out before collapsing to the ground.

Fiona first thought was to do so, but…

Despite the obviousness of the decision and her bad attitude towards law enforcement and heroes in general, something made her hesitate.

What had happened here did not look like at least one of the prison riots she had ever seen, why would strange-looking civilians suddenly need to break into a correctional facility and attack the first people they met? And why did the cowardly cellmate she knew suddenly attacked the warden, almost smashing protected head with his weak little hands, and then, with a wild roar, at her herself while looking indistinguishable from "uninvited guests"? There are too many questions and very few answers. Something was clearly wrong, and if that "wrong" was happening in the outside world, then she had to know as much as possible. But to her great regret, the only available and, perhaps, the last source of information was former opponent lying on the floor, whose interrogation is possible only under the condition of private and personal communication for which she will have to take risks. However, is this idea so bad? If an electronic lock or, chaos forbid, a retinal scanner turns out to be on one of the doors ahead? Such a mistake would be fatal.

Besides, in the current state of affairs, it wouldn't hurt for her to have at least some kind of help. Even such as this one.

No matter how much Fiona hated them, she still couldn't help but recognize their sometimes even sacrificial selflessness, which, not without a drop of long-suppressed regret, she often used for selfish purposes and cunning plans. If they were not on different sides of the barricades, then everything could well have been different, because she's truly respected the dedication of which her sworn enemies were known and which was very often not enough for accomplices in criminal activities. It would be very useful to have such an ally. Moreover, in the event of a meeting with another attacker, her chances of fighting off alone will be quite low, and with a companion in misfortune they will become somewhat higher. At least for a while, unless later it becomes necessary to use that "ally" as bait for her own salvation.

Is it reasonable? Fiona didn't know. Anyway, the decision has been made, she will have time to hate herself later, but for now…

*Wham*

A pipe darted into the shapeless crowd and knocked down the first one of them, causing the rest to fall like skittles. In two jumps, reaching the warden, the red-tailed vixen threw heavy arm around her neck, and intercepted the plasma pistol with the other.

"On your feet, I'll need you!" She hissed.

On legs wobbly from floating in agony mind, the carried one rustled along the surface vibrating from the trampling, while Fiona, in a half-turn, began to settle the nearest of her pursuers with a plasma pulse, briefly increasing the distance with a periodic flash and gradually approaching the fire door at the end of the corridor. So close, only half a dozen meters. One, two, three…

Too-frequent footsteps behind attracted all her attention. With a quick movement of her hand, she managed to shoot offhand the stomping threat, who turned out to be her recently headshotted cellmate. How is that even possible? Fiona didn't know, and she wasn't in a hurry to find out. All she cared about right now was the saving red rectangle at arm's length. Opening the heavy door, she roughly pushed warden inside onto the stairs and pulled the handle. The impotent blows on the other side of the barrier sounded like a victorious triumph.

Leaning against the wall, the red-tailed vixen slowly slid down, lowering her hands to her bending knees. Finally, a break.

Survived duo spent some time in relative silence, gradually recovering their lost breath while the faint red light was getting weaker.

"Why…?" Slightly raising its head, a tired look asked through a cracked visor of bended helmet.

"I need information, as much as possible. And you..." Fiona glanced at the badge "Gadget, going to tell me. One way or another."

Red vixen casually showed plasma blaster that now belongs to her, wordlessly hinting at a different way of interrogation from the verbal one.

"I'll... I'll tell you. Just..." He paused to take another deep breath, but fell silent.

After waiting a few seconds and getting no response, Fiona waved her hand.

"Hey!" Red vixen hit the cement floor with the handle. Weakly, but loud enough to bring her interlocutor's attention. The latter only twitched slightly "I'm still waiting."

"Do me... A favor. Take off that helmet..."

A simple, unremarkable request, despite its simplicity of execution, still aroused Fiona's suspicion – why wouldn't he do it himself? Was it just an attempt at deception disguised as weakness, or did he really get hit SO hard? There was only one way to find out.…

With her hand extended under the visor, she snapped the groped clasp and abruptly took off protective gear.

*SIGH*

Red vixen immediately retreated a few steps and pointed the weapon at the head of the moving body, waiting for retaliatory actions from the recent opponent. But got nothing, instead of the attack, there was only a relieved exhalation.

"Thank you... Very much."

Realizing that her suspicions were not justified, Fiona sat back down.

Only now, having passed the moment of tension, she could fully see the face of her soon-to-be companion in misfortune.

The once defeated blue-armored warden turned out to be a red wolf with long pointed ears that had a green mono headset with a microphone, amber eyes and tanned skin. On his muzzle, distorted from not yet passed pain, black glasses with, apparently, recently cracked glass twitched slightly.

While Fiona was waiting for an answer, the muffled bangs on the door and the noise of confrontation coming from somewhere in the distance became fainter, which seemed to suck the last remnants of electricity from the fading red staircase lamps.

"So tell me. What's going on outside of this place?"

As if trying to get ahead of the answer, with a buzzing, one floor after another, the lights began to turn off. The creeping darkness was slowly but surely creeping up on the only heat carriers.

"It's a nightmare out there..." With the last spoken word, the space around them finally descended into impenetrable nothingness.

[cilil]

Day 4 Melkor ⋆⛧⋆ Mairon

Synopsis: Mairon asks Melkor about the Void.

Warnings: /

Author's Note: Getting a little... philosophical? with this. Hope you enjoy what Melkor has to say ;)

They were lying on top of Melkor's huge bed in the depths of Utumno, two Ainur lovingly intertwined in fëa and fána, cuddling in the darkness after another night of passion. Mairon's head rested on the Vala's chest, and he idly traced the faint, swiftly healing scratch marks left on his skin by his own hand with one finger, remnants of his unabashed desire, while one his Melkor's large hands stroked his messy locks. 

"You have never told me about the Void before," Mairon whispered, breaking the peaceful silence. He didn't know why it occurred to him just now, perhaps it was the shadows of Utumno, perhaps it was simply the path his thoughts had taken, yet it was something he had always been curious about. 

Melkor's brows furrowed slightly as he contemplated his words, and for a moment Mairon worried that whatever memories he had of the Void caused him grief, but his breathing remained calm and even, and there was no hint of distress in his song. 

"The Void..." 

He slowly opened his eyes to meet the Maia's curious gaze. 

"How should I describe it... I suppose most would say it is simply that, a void, dark and empty, but I would rather call it a paradox in itself."

"What do you mean?" 

Once again, Melkor paused to collect his thoughts. 

"It is nothing, nothingness in itself to be precise, yet at the same time it holds the possibility for everything. It doesn't exist, shouldn't exist, it is nonexistence itself, yet because something exists, because we exist to observe it, it does exist after all. It is nowhere, yet we know where it is, a place we can even visit if we dare."

Mairon thought about his words for a few moments. 

"You said it holds the possibility for everything," he said, "however, you also said it doesn't exist. Is it correct then that it is empty? Or is... anything in it after all?" 

"Yes, no and maybe." 

Seeing his confusion, Melkor chuckled lightly. 

"It depends. Certainly nothing we would recognize as existence, by which I mean beings with fëar, beings made of materials from Eä, beings of song like we are. The Void may attempt to speak to you, perhaps even present itself to you, sometimes formless, sometimes in the shape of... creatures."

"Creatures?" 

Mairon's ears perked up, and he sounded more alarmed than he had intended. 

"Remember what I said about nonexistence acquiring a sort of false existence when it makes contact with things that exist? My best guess is that the Void has to enter existence if it wishes to interact with it, observe it or feed on it, like if you were to reach into a bowl of water with your hands to catch a fish. It has no shape of its own and cannot create one, because creating and shaping is something it can neither achieve nor comprehend, but it can–attempt to–consume other creatures to acquire their form."

"Has it... attempted to feed on you...?" 

"Perhaps." 

Mairon's eyes widened in alarm, but Melkor wrapped his arms around him reassuringly. 

"Not like you are imagining right now. I was never attacked by anything out there, nor has it spoken to me directly. I think it perceived me, yet if it wished to harm me, it apparently could not. Maybe it cannot attack or destroy beings like us, those who possess a fëa kindled with the Flame Imperishable; at least not not on its own."

The Vala's expression shifted, suddenly serious. 

"Even so, little flame, I want you to never go there. To say it isn't safe would be an understatement, no matter one's strength."

"Very well; but if you ever go there again, I will follow," Mairon said stubbornly. 

Melkor shook his head, though a small smile appeared on his lips. "I would forbid it, yet I know you will do what you think is right regardless of what I say now." 

taglist: @angbangweek @asianbutnotjapanese @edensrose @eunoiaastralwings @floraroselaughter @i-did-not-mean-to @singleteapot

angbang masterlist |main masterlist | tag list form

[kiragecko]

20 Questions for Fic Writers Tag Game

@zahri-melitor didn't tag me, but did leave it open to followers.

1. how many works do you have on AO3?

17. There's still a few on ffnet I haven't moved over, but they're ROUGH.

2. what's your total AO3 word count?

27,088. Fifteen hundred words per fic seems about right - I generally like 'em to have 2 scenes.

3. what fandoms do you write for?

X-Men and Batfamily.

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Shirt Off Your Back - aka, the one where all the stuff I'm really proud of showed up by accident while I was trying to find a way to end it. I did good, it deserves the kudos.

Ives Adapts - love this weird little fic. It's obvious that it's a Tumblr thing - as much a list as it is a story. Which is what I love about it! And I thought 'the world needs more Ives' and then DID something about it! Good job, me.

Kon Is Loyal - hehe! This one is silly and fun. I don't do silly and fun that much. I'm glad I did.

Terms of Use - this is the far too personal one where I'm working through multiple things at once. The fic on this list I'm the most proud of.

Presents - not quite the same fic as Shirt of Your Back, but they're of a pair. I enjoy how clever Damian thinks he's being. Yes, yes, Damian, you're so smart!

(Also known as 5/6 of my Batfamiliy fic, and all the fic I've written in the last 5 years.)

5. do you respond to comments?

Yeah. I missed one, didn't notice it until 2 years later, and it STILL annoys me. Maybe I'll eventually thank them for their emoji a decade after they sent it, or something. I LIKE talking about my fic!

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

It's called Fighting Fire with Kindling, and it's Not Good. Probably won't move it to AO3, even when ffnet dies. Trying to figure out why romance made me feel the way it did led to some weird fic.

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Is It Really True? - which is a Rumpelstiltskin retelling is pretty straightforwardly happy at the end?

Most of my fic are more HOPEFUL than happy.

8. do you get hate on fics?

No. Well, maybe? I think I remember deleting something, once. It didn't leave a lasting mark. I've gotten hate on COMMENTS before, though.

9. do you write smut? If so, what kind?

No. Back in 2005 I was writing a lot about infidelity and unhealthy relationships, but ... actual sex scenes??? It took me a decade just to build up a tolerance for READING (or skimming) them!

10. do you write crossovers?

No. It's all about the relationships. Crossovers make it harder to focus on the relationships I'm in the fandom for.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

No. I wouldn't notice.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. I am NOT popular.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Closest I've gotten is beta-ing. Team projects were the hardest part of school.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Probably Wolverine/Mariko Yashida/Jean Grey but not poly? Like, it WAS Wolverine/Jean Grey, and then she died, and then it was Wolverine/Mariko, but now Jean is back and Wolverine still loves her and they're all trying to co-parent their kid(s) but none of them are poly and it's complicated.

I cared about this one a LOT when I was 20. Almost entirely for the angst, but I'm taking what I can get. I'm way to aroace for most shipping to register.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

This Tim Recovers in Smallville fic. Possibly with some fake dating that stays very very fake? Like, I don't want to write it, but I REALLY want it to exist.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Outsider perspectives. Respecting abnormal thought processes and perspectives. Controlling pacing and indicating voice through sentence structure.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I started my fandom experience in barely-post-90s X-Men. Phonetic accents and illogically inserted random words from foreign languages are charming to me. Reading 80s/90s Wolverine as a Canadian makes me giggle.

It's also usually classist and often xenophobic. Always othering. In any fandom other than X-Men, phonetic accents and inserted foreign words bother me.

Have yet to see a form of other-language dialogue with translation that both flows smoothly and works with screen-readers.

Untranslated foreign-language dialogue works if I'm supposed to feel like an outsider, or like I'm missing something.

I prefer it translated into English, with narration telling me what language it is ... okay, that is a lie. I prefer every language to get their own special quote marks. I think that's REALLY fun. Especially if we can get some telepathy in there as well. I was reading X-fic in the early 2000s, I can't be expected to have good taste!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

As stated, X-Men. Learned a lot, then took a decade long break for my mental health. Now I can write without worsening my depression!

20. Favourite fic you've written?

Either Terms of Use (which is actually good) or Sometimes It's Hard to Think. I wrote the second one when I was a baby fan, and it was fun! I also love my self-insert character. She is SO different from who I am now. Everyone should write self-inserts - it's fascinating to go back and see insight into your past self-image.

If you want to (mostly so you can remind me of fic to reread 😉): @whetstonefires, @galaxystew, @alarajrogers, @incogneat-oh, @angel-gidget, @tabithian