#they are more or less the same aside from like. a few skin details & their hair

[raiiny-bay]

oc evolution tag: dhes & kel edition (choose an oc & show the progress from the earliest to latest version of them)

tagged by @sikoi, @kazuaru, & @elderwisp (ty guys for the tags!!)

Kelly (2011 -> 2023/24)

Dhestyn (2011 -> 2023/24)

tagging: @simspurgatory, @lynzishell, @lilamausmaus, @aurorangen, @potential-fate, & @wolfavens (feel free to ignore ofc!)

[innerfare]

Nightmares - Part 2

Summary: What sorts of nightmares do they have about losing you?

Characters: Shanks, Beckman, Mihawk, Crocodile, Doflamingo, Corazon, Smoker

Genre: Angst

CW: SFW // that being said, caution- contains mentions of death and suffering

——— 

Shanks: 

It’s all fun and games as he chases you down the beach under the full moon, both of you splashing in the shallows, the mugginess of the summer night somehow refreshing after a few too many drinks. He doesn’t run very fast at first, giving you the head start he always does, the one you complain about, but when he does decide he wants you in his arms, he picks up his pace, only to realize you’re much further down the beach than you should be. He runs faster and faster, and with each step, you seem to get three more away from him, until the outline of you is rapidly disappearing. His throat begins closing up as he realizes he’ll never catch you. And when he wakes on deck, a half-empty booze bottle in his hands, he sets it aside and searches the ship for you, not catching his breath until he finds you sleeping in his bed, right where you belong. 

Beckman: 

You’re in the clutches of the marines. Beckman had a past before Shanks, a past that involved deserting the marines and going on the run from the World Government, and there’s a small part of him that never did overcome the fear of that past catching up to him. Worse still, he has a fear of that past catching up to you, and that fear comes to life in his dreams, when you’re thrown into Impel Down for his crimes and he’s forced to watch them dunk you in boiling water over and over again. He wakes with you asleep on his chest, the same as every night, and the skin to skin contact calms him down, but not enough for him to go back to sleep. 

Mihawk: 

He sent you away for your own good. He had a premonition the Navy would be coming for him, and with them, a slew of bounty hunters that would have no qualms about using you against him. And yet, you remained in his dreams, though the hot and heavy ones he once had were replaced by cold fear. Every time he went to sleep, a different scenario, though the crux of it the same: you were being used as a pawn to get to him, a pawn in a lot of pain. And every time he woke up, the same: your side of the bed was empty, the shape of your body tangled in those satin sheets now but a memory. For your own good, he kept reminding himself, though he believed it less every time.  

Crocodile: 

You betray him. Of course you do. He would betray you in an instant, and not even for a whole lot. A business deal, or perhaps the freedom of one of his more valuable people. From the look on your face, it’s not difficult for you, either. In fact, you seem to relish the pain on his as you inform him you’ve taken a deal with one of his enemies- a lucrative one, at that. And all you had to do was set him up. He wakes with a start, sitting up on the sofa in his office he often crashes on when he doesn’t feel like dragging himself to bed. You’re nowhere to be seen, and that’s what he needs for the next few days. He only stops giving you the cold shoulder when he figures out a way to approach the topic of betrayal without telling you how pathetically heartbroken he would be if you ever did turn on him. 

Doflamingo: 

The angry mob gets you. That same mob that went after his family, that same mob that went after him. They’re after you, and there’s nothing he can do about it. He’s not a warlord, not even a pirate, hasn’t eaten his devil fruit or met Trebol, hasn’t done anything to make himself powerful enough to protect you. You’re supposed to be his, but the mob is determined you’re theirs, and what is he supposed to do about it? He wakes in a cold sweat, leaning forward in his chair with his chest heaving. He takes a moment to massage his temples before climbing to his feet and stalking out of the room in search of you, determined to lay eyes on you (and probably to increase your security detail, too). 

Corazon: 

His brother has you tied up like a piñata for the executives to beat. Everyone in the family is there, even Law, and Corazon cries out, but he really is mute, completely unable to protest your treatment. He can’t move, either, can’t do anything but watch as everyone takes hits at you, from his brother to his son. He wakes in a fit of desperation, calling out for you. It’s the sound of his own voice- hoarse and frantic- that finally calms him down, though ultimately, he doesn’t take another calm breath until you appear at his side, your brow furrowed, asking him what’s wrong. He knows it’s crazy, but he just has to check you over for marks. 

Smoker: 

He comes home after months at the sea and finds your home wicked, windows shattered and furniture overturned. He approaches the bedroom with a lump in his throat. Just as he rounds the corner, he wakes up, but laying there in bed, he knows what he saw, knows what a crew of vengeful pirates did to his beloved. Though he had been firm on not telling anyone about you or your relationship for fear the wrong person would find out and your life would be in danger, he makes the decision to put in a call to an old friend and ask them to drop in on you every week or so to be certain you’re safe. He also installs a new, state of the art security system at your place as soon as he gets leave. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[cherrychilli]

18+ Steve Harrington x f! reader, established relationship Masturbation (F&M), guided masturbation, edging, phone sex(kinda) Summary: Steve receives a special kind of phone call when the journey to his business conference is interrupted by bad weather. WC:3.4K

He'd hoped to make it into town before sundown, badly in need of some rest ahead of the conference tomorrow but the rain put a stop to that.

It started with a light drizzle, a gentle pitter patter of barely there droplets before it turned into a downpour so heavy Steve could barely make out the road in front of him no matter how swiftly his windshield wipers swept from side to side.

So heavy that he grit his teeth and reluctantly pulled over off to the side, clicking his tongue with irritation because the winding stretch of road ahead lay draped in darkness and obscured by thick sheets of rain.

The car comes to a stop on a soggy stretch of grass just by the forest line and he kills the engine, body slumping against his seat with a sigh. Several hours on the road and he's less than pleased to hit the brakes during the home stretch of his journey.

All Steve can really do about it is stew there for a while, rain pelting so hard against the roof of his beamer like the sound of a hundred soldiers marching by. He knows waiting for the shower to cease is his only option, left idle and with little else to do but try to keep from falling sleep.

In the roaring still of his BMW Steve makes a genuine effort at being productive, thinking about the conference and all the things he'll need to do to prepare for it tomorrow. Thoughts of keynote speakers, slideshows, workshops, panel discussions and more fill the space in his mind though the longer he spends on it the more it upsets the remaining calm he'd managed to retain since the rain began.

One by one those thoughts wrap around each other in knots tight enough to choke, entangling into a head throbbing mess that has him calling it quits with another irritated click of his tongue.

Brushing the tiresome details of his business trip aside, Steve rests his temple against the window for some relief. Thankfully the cool glass soothes the thick pulsing vein that runs through there below his skin before a migraine has a chance to sprout roots in his head.

Silently, his half lidded eyes follow the fat droplets of rain as they smack against the glass and turn to rivulets that spiral down his car and soak into the soil below. Watching the sight closely for a while gets his mind working again only this time it doesn't trigger any throbbing in his head.

He thinks back to how even before he'd seen the first signs of rain a few hours back, ashy clouds blooming in size to swallow up a perfectly azure sky, he had you at the back of his mind.

Inside his red knit sweater his chest puffs and fills with a fondness so warm because he's reminded of you once again, the way you love cozying up when its all whistling winds, dense showers and charcoal skies — your favorite kind of weather.

This time he isn't afraid of letting his eyes slip shut, making it easier for him to picture you back home in Hawkins and warm in your bed. How you stayed warm he could never figure out though. You were the type who habitually kicked the covers off in your sleep, and even though what you had on underneath should have done little to keep you warm, you never so much as let out a shiver in your panties and billowing baggy t-shirt.

The same outfit you'd had on this morning, Steve recalls happily. His lips quickly curve as he smiles to himself, remembering how you looked when you wished him a safe trip after having breakfast together.

Of all the things that went wrong today, Steve cursed himself the most for having to leave you looking like that at the door, wishing he'd had just one hour more to say goodbye more thoroughly.

Your legs had been bare, easy for him to admire when the hem of your t-shirt rested just below the swell of your ass. Silently, he ogled that too as you moved around the kitchen, little glimpses of your panties showing whenever you reached for the top cabinet. And underneath the thin cotton that had wrinkled while you slept with patterns like tree branches stretching high and wide, your perked nipples showed, always drawing his attention as Steve watched the shape of your tits jiggle with every step.

Already the warmth which began in Steve's chest starts to trickle down his bones, leaving him unsure if he should hit the breaks on this feeling before it's too late. The thing was, it didn't take much to get Steve going and it was near impossible for him to hold himself back once he's worked up. Most times all it took was a cheeky flash of your breasts or a firm kiss deepened with tongue and teeth, enough to have him eager to strip you both of your clothes and pull you into the bedroom.

Now that exciting familiar feeling weaves through the spaces between his ribs and swirls at the pit of his stomach. He does his best to deter it despite how much he wants to let it take him over, looking for a distraction to stop the blood in his body from rushing south but temptation gets the better of him.

He really couldn't help it, plucking his phone from out from his back pocket to get a look at you. Steve expects to see you both pictured in his lock screen as usual, smiling cheek to cheek with him all sun glistened skin the last time he'd taken you to the beach but what he finds ballooning up on his screen instead is a notification flashing bright with your name.

Unlocking it with a swipe, Steve finds he's missed a call that'd come from you an hour ago, unable to get through to him because his phone had been set to silent like he always did when he drove.

His thumb hovers over his screen, about to scroll and call you right back, hoping all is well on your end when he pauses. Steve notices you've left him one more surprise — a voice mail. Probably asking him to call you back, he figures, but when he thinks on it a little longer he decides to listen to it first since you'd gone through the effort of sending one. Not to mention that the sound of your voice is just what he needs right now, it alone able to mend all the bitterness that'd scratched at him so fervently from the inside since he'd parked on this dark and isolated spot.

Fiddling with his phone, Steve makes sure to turn the volume all the way up so he can make out everything that you're saying clearly despite the heavy rainfall, still showing no signs of tapering as he hits play.

When the sound of your voice filters through the speaker it hits him like a beam of sunlight, exactly what he needed to hear this far into his journey, bringing a rush of warmth all throughout his body to counteract the chill brought on by the rain. It's enough to make his heartbeat pick up at the raspy tone that wraps around each of your words, soft like you're letting him in on a secret, enticing like you're curling a finger at him to beckon him closer.

"-guess you're still on the road. I was hoping you'd be at the hotel by now because...well, the thing is I miss you already. I know, I know. Clingy much, right? but it got me thinking about how you'll be all alone in that hotel room...while I'm all alone in our bed...I just— I've been thinking about you all day Steve and it's been driving me crazy."

A few wide eyed blinks is all Steve can muster as your words hang in his mind like stars peppering a pitch black sky. He shifts quickly to attention, no longer slumped in his seat as he listens on attentively, spine straight and making no effort to stifle that feeling brewing in his belly any longer.

"...this'll have to do...I know how hard you've been working and I wanna make you feel better while we're apart. So go ahead, lean back and get comfortable while I tell you what's been on my mind... Promise you're going to want to hear this", you tell him as you let out a little giggle, making Steve shiver in a way that has nothing to do with the weather outside.

"...I've been so distracted at home. I couldn't get anything done...I really did try to control myself but I couldn't...it's all I want to think about. Steve, you're all I want to think about...you and the way you touch yourself... and now I'm- well, I'm imagining you rubbing your cock while you listen to my voice... and I need to touch myself while I think about you too. Will you touch yourself for me? please, I'd love to know that you're stroking your cock for me while I'm running my hands all over my body."

Suddenly, Steve couldn't be more thankful for the heavy rain that's rendered him trapped in this lonely spot. Having passed no other vehicles in the last hour, and in no mood to deny your requests, especially when you're talking to him like that, he's free to follow your instructions without any fear of getting caught. Placing his phone on the dashboard to free up his fingers, he undoes his belt and zipper before reaching in and pulling his cock out his boxers with clumsy haste, too overeager and cloddish for his own good.

Holding a hand up to his lips, he spits out a warm, generous glob of saliva into the well of his palm, wrapping it around the thickness of his veiny shaft to pump himself to fullness. It doesn't take long with the way his length had already begun to kick up and rise at the sound of your voice, listening very carefully as you continue.

"...It's so cold here without you beside me...'been trying to warm up by taking my fingertips and running them all over myself...all the places I need your touch the most... tracing them up my thighs... slowly across my hips... up to my chest... and I'm brushing them lightly around my tits... feels so nice...m' starting to play with my nipples now... I'm wetting my fingertips with my tongue...then rubbing them so gently in circles... watching them start to perk up...'n pinching and rolling them just for you Stevie... getting them all nice and hard...feels amazing but I miss having your mouth on me...having your teeth around my nipples...the way you suck and lick them better...there's nothing else like it" you mewl softly, your voice all breathy.

The more hushed sighs and moans you let out the easier it is for him to picture you and feed the fiery ache building inside. His eyes slip shut and his hand moves up and down with shallow strokes as he imagines you in bed, your soft, naked skin gliding against your bedsheets as you touch yourself just as described. Steve's able to imagine the subtle floral scent of your favorite perfume too, powdery and sweet with a hint of cream. It always mixes well with the natural musk of your sweat, the memory of it making Steve's mouth water from all the times he's buried his face in your neck while his hips rut against your own.

"Please tell me you're touching your cock for me... I want you stroke it lightly with just your fingertips? need you to tease yourself— just like the way I'm teasing my body... need you to really work for it, okay?...so rub your fingers around the tip... do it gently before sliding your hand back down to the base...Stevie, please, I hope you're leaking...your cock looks so pretty when it does that...I love when you get it everywhere...make it messy while I start to squeeze my tits... that's it..."

Steve's hands roam dutifully to wherever you dictate, teasing himself as requested. "God, yeah— doing it just how you want me to, baby", he groans out, fingers wet with his saliva and clear pearls of precum that dew and spill copiously from his slit.

There was a time when his chest would grow tight with embarrassment, unsure how you'd react to the way he'd drip so many thick droplets from his slit all the way down his length and onto the dark hair that grew at his base.

He was relieved to find he needn't have worried, nearly overwhelmed by the way you took charge and hungrily lapped him clean. Steve couldn't help but feel so impressed by the way you savored his taste and worshipped his cock too, rewarding your busy mouth with plentiful spurts of cum as you sealed your lips around his tip and sucked down all he could give you. Even begging him for more as his spend dripped out the corner of your mouth and made its way onto your chin, never too shy to wear him on your skin.

But without you here to wrap your tongue and lips around his cock, his spit and precum trickle all the way down to his balls, made even messier when he reaches lower to cup and gently squeeze his heavy sack, enough to bring him some relief.

"...I'm going to start sliding my hands down to my pussy now... and I'm using two fingers to rub gentle circles above my clit... I think I can feel it swelling up...getting me so worked up just thinking about you rubbing your dick for me... I want you to reach down to the base of your cock with one hand- grip it lightly...I want you to stroke it for me... long, slow strokes... keep going... that's it... baby, don't stop stroking yourself for me"

Steve wants more — needs more but he's not about to stray from your instructions, purposely denying himself by keeping his touches languid and light despite his own hunger.

"Shit, you're such a bad girl for working me up like this...", he breathes into the dark, flashes of how he'd like to reprimand you popping up in his mind one by one — his hand around your neck while he thrusts into you, your knees raw from kneeling between his legs with his cock nudging the back of your throat, you pulled over his lap as he cracks his hand over your ass until you're sore. He fully intends to try every one of them when he comes back home to you.

"Ngh, my clit— it's so sensitive. I'm rubbing it slowly— it feels so good...but I miss having your fingers on me more...'m spreading my legs wider, reaching lower now so I can rub my fingers over my pussy lips... just teasing myself...please, tease yourself with me Steve- just swirl your fingertips over the tip of your cock but don't touch anything else, okay?...I want you to grip it a little harder for me and pretend you're pressing the head into my hole like I'm doing with my fingers— filling myself with just the tip."

"Mm, Jesus...fuck", he leans over to dribble more spit onto the head of his cock, imagining the way your wet heat would welcome his intrusion by wrapping around him tightly.

"-And I'm pulling them out again... this time I'm sliding them in a little further, just an inch or so...slide your hand down your cock just a little bit more and pull it back up again... slide your hand a little further down your dick for me, about halfway and give it soft strokes up and down the top half of your cock while I try to...while I try to fuck myself with my fingers-"

Even with the rain still coming down heavily Steve can hear the distinct sound of you touching yourself. He's completely tuned in to the sound of the sticky clicks coming from between your legs as he hears you pulling your folds apart, wishing he could see you bare your tight hole to him before you fill it with your fingers.

"Oh god! -it's so warm and soft inside Stevie...there's so much- 's so wet every time I pull them out...it's making my thighs all sticky...it's so filthy but I need to know how it tastes...my fingers are covered in it...so slippery and glossy...just have to- have to lick them clean...before I put them back inside...mm!"

The thought of you tasting yourself makes him feel dangerously close to cumming, eyes ready to roll back because you're enjoying how sweet you taste, making his thighs tense and quiver until the sound of you gasping out urgently has him slowing his pace.

"Stevie, baby, don't be mad...I know it feels good fucking your fist but I want you to stop what you're doing...take your hands away and I want you to just sit there for a minute while I pull my fingers back out too"

Steve whines, reluctantly pulling his hand away, watching his aching cock blushing bright pink and twitching on its own without his hand wrapped around it.

"God I want it so badly — I'm not even touching myself and I'm so close to cumming for you. Will you cum with me baby? please?"

"Yes — shit that's what I want", he whines again as if you can hear him, as if he can sway you when you hear the desperation in his voice as it slips past his lips.

"Okay, you can touch yourself again... I'm sliding my fingers in again too and I'm doing it all the way this time — shit... they're buried deep...take long slow strokes with me up to the tip and back down to the base, baby — oh fuck— and up to the tip again and back down to the base... I want you to do it faster and faster...this feels so good oh fuck, keep going Steve..."

It's a mess, both his mind and body.

Steve's cock and fist are covered in a wet, viscous layer as he begins to buck his hips up to meet his hand with every pump and stroke, his whole body dewy with a light sweat. He can't remember a time he's worked harder for an orgasm, every muscle flexing and contracting around his bones, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat all pulled taught.

"...I wish I could watch you stroking it for me...the way your fingers fit around your cock...even though they are bigger than mine, your cock still looks so thick in your grasp...gosh, Steve, I love knowing how hard my voice makes you...I love..mm!..I love knowing that you're getting off to the sound of me touching myself ...oh my god, speed up for me... speed up for me- I really want us to cum together... you think you can do that for me? Steve?... fuck yourself for me... do whatever you need to make yourself cum... play with your balls, jerk your shaft, rub the tip... I don't care. Just cum with me please-"

"I'm close, shit. I'm almost there pretty girl", he spits out, eyes screwed shut.

"Oh shit. 'so good.... oh please... please please - oh fu- right there! I'm cumming...!"

In that moment Steve's treated to the sweet sound of you giving into your release just a few seconds before his own, the sound of you inhaling sharply before you cry out and writhe enough to push him over the edge. His fist works himself vigorously, until he feels it shoot up his spine, throwing his head back when he spews thick lines of sticky white all over his fist and belly — some even managing to catch on the bottom of the steering wheel too.

"...oh god that was...that was...so good....Steve? The aftershocks keep rippling through my body, oh fuck...I really can't wait until you're back home with me...there's nothing like having the real thing..."

Even as his heads spins he hangs off every word you utter into the phone until the message cuts out not much long after, nothing but the sound of Steve's own haggard breathing ringing in his ears as he unsticks his hand from around his spent cock.

Chest heaving, hand all sticky, Steve rests his temple against the window as he did before, breath fogging up the glass as he wonders how best to go about cleaning up when suddenly he notices outside-

The rain's come to an end.

[thatapostateboy]

just don't lie to me

Pairing: Marie Hawke x Varric Tethras (with established Marie Hawke x Anders... it's complicated)

Word Count: 1087

Synopsis: on the night before the final battle, Marian demands the truth from her best friend

Prompt: Day Thirteen: Things We Say In The Dark from the Veilbound challenge by @/nympthi and @/citadrells on Twitter

Warnings: references to a big final Veilguard final battle; complete speculation

Crossposted: Here on AO3

“What in the hells in this?”

Varric looked up from the mug of ale he had carried to his room to finish before bed to see Marian striding in through the slammed open door. In her hands, she holds his new crossbow.

“Shit,” he sighed, pushing his drink aside on the desk, spinning in his chair to face her properly, “Y’know it’s rude to go through other people’s belongings.”

“Shut up,” she snapped back, “What is this?”

“I’m going to need something to fight with, I don’t fancy bare knuckle boxing an elven god tomorrow.”

She stared at him, a little stunned that he was still trying to banter with her despite her obvious anger, “Don’t be an asshole. Answer the question.”

He sighed, “It’s late, I think we both need some rest, don’t you?”

He slid from his chair to take the weapon from her hands, but she held tight, staring down at him with barely concealed… anger, confusion, perhaps even desperation, he noted.

She turned the crossbow in her grasp so that he could see the name he’d carved into the side of it.

Marian.

“What does this mean?” she asked, her voice quieter now, and he can feel the warmth of her skin as they both hold the weapon.

“Well, it’s your name, Blackbird,” he said with a tone just a smidge too casual that she relented in frustration, thrusting it hard into his arms.

“All these years and you still can’t be honest with me?”

He heard the edge of tears in the back of her throat, and he almost turned his head away in shame, but urged himself to keep his walls up, as he always had.

“Wasn’t sure Bianca Two had the same ring to it,” he said with a half sighed laugh, but she didn’t smile.

“Why my name?” she asked.

“You’re my best friend,” he told her.

“Bianca wasn’t.”

“She designed the last one,” he pointed out.

“And what input did I have on that contraption?” she challenged.

Everything, he thinks. The entire weapon was inspired by her, the deep red wood it’s crafted from, the Fereldan silverite detailing, the feathers that Davrin carved into the base that he’s pretty sure she hasn’t seen yet.

He looked at her, drunk in the sight of her here, in his room, in the depths of the Fade, at the end of the world. Tomorrow they would face the Evanuris in battle one final time. Either it would be enough, and they would be victorious… or they would all be dead.

He hadn’t wanted her here, had lied about their search for Solas, desperate to keep her safe, to let her live what semblance of a retirement she had earned, back in Ferelden raising her children with Anders. And yet, once she had heard he was in trouble, she’d had Merrill more or less punch a hole into the Crossroads to come find him. And there she had stayed, an acting agent of the Veilguard, Anders as their live-in healer and back up Warden, whilst their twins ran amok in the Dread Wolf’s lair.

The years had been kind to her, despite everything. She looked older, though he had aged gracefully into it, laughter lines etched into her face, a few steaks of grey in her dark locks, loose around her shoulders for once as opposed to the ponytail she had favoured in Kirkwall.

It had always been the assumption that he and Garrett were the closer pair, forever laughing and drinking with each other. But it was her, his Blackbird, that had truly known him all these years. The one who called him out on his bullshit, but his fiercest defender. He had wanted to protect her in turn, from getting involved with Anders, from the Inquisition, from everything happening with the Evanuris.

And yet again, he had failed.

He sighed, shaking his head, “Like I said, it’s late. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

She turned away for a moment and he prayed that she was heading for the door, but she looked back at him.

“The world is ending, Varric, and you still won’t say it?”

“What would you have me say?” he challenged.

“The truth, for once in your damned life.”

He ran a hand through his hair, “Fucking things up with my best friend isn’t the last thing I want to do before I die. I can’t lose this. You, us. So just… drop it.”

“Just drop it? Like we dropped it for years in Kirkwall? Ignored it, said it was nothing? Fuck, part of me thought I’d imagined it, this thing between us. And now, after everything that’s happened, everything that I’ve lost, that we’ve lost, all of this time… and you put my name on your crossbow the night before we face certain death.”

He set the crossbow on his desk, avoiding her gaze, “Blackbird, I-”

“For once in our lives, will you call me by my actual name? Instead of hiding behind that fucking nickname?” she yelled at him before she let out an exasperated sigh, her amber eyes seeking his, “Varric, please. Just be honest with me, with yourself, just this once.”

He wants to, more than anything. To let those final few walls down around her, to bare himself to her heart and soul, to tell her how he feels, how he’s felt it for years. He wants to spend his final few hours in this world with her in his arms, so that he could face whatever end would come for them all with no regrets.

But this isn’t one of his stories.

“And what exactly is it that you want?” he meets her eyes with a hard expression, “You’re married, and you love Anders. What would hearing any of this change, hm? You shouldn’t…” he tried to maintain the hard tone he’d taken, but seeing the way she pulled back from him, he felt it break something deep within his chest, “You shouldn’t be here. Not with me. Not tonight. You should be with your family.”

“You’re right,” she said, taking a step back, putting physical distance between them, “Goodnight Varric.”

He turned his back as she left as he couldn’t bare to watch her walk away. He heard her pause as she reached the doorway, waiting for him to call to her, to stop her, but when he didn’t, she kept going, closing the door behind her.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, sniffing back tears, “Goodnight Marian.”

[amemoryofwot]

Okkk I’m just gonna send it, here goes:

You Can Hold Me, Like You Held Her

Siuan x Liandrin show universe fic, aka my treaty on why I want them to have kind of awkward sex while they both think about Moiraine. Not particularly explicit or spoilery, although there are few small details blending in from the books.

In the dark of the Amyrlin’s chambers, Siuan bucks her hips and bites back a name before she betrays that the woman she was fantasizing about was not the same as the woman in whose honey-coloured braids her fingers tangle. Before Siuan can recover the woman’s shuddering breath against her thigh suggests she has taken care of herself - one less thing to worry about, then.

The woman - Liandrin - has at least the good sense to wipe her mouth and hand before climbing back up the bed. She hesitates a moment too long above Siuan as if debating a kiss, but thankfully just lays against her shoulder instead. They’ve done this enough that Siuan completes the ritual of intimacy by wrapping her arm around Liandrin’s waist in a distant and methodical manner. It’s not entirely unpleasant. After all, the loneliness and duty of the Seat crushes like a wave she can almost convince herself she can swim through. The body against her is warm and familiar in its own way, and if she closes her eyes she can almost pretend somebody else’s leg drapes over hers, that more wanted fingers idly stroke along what’s visible of her tattoos. These ones, however, chart the new lines that have never felt a lover’s touch, and despite herself she flinches. Liandrin, unfortunately, notices.

“Mother, you’re much too tense,” she admonishes. Her string of babble is lost on Siuan, who idly reflects on the base Taraboner accent she can hear come through Liandrin’s voice. If she’s allowing her high-born cover to slip, then she’s either too comfortable or too nervous, and Siuan doesn’t know which is worse.

“…and surely it’s more challenging for a mere Sister to meet privately with the Amyrlin Seat, yes? Perhaps there would be a way for us to … visit … more, if one could use one’s position as Sitter to-”

Siuan cuts her off with a genuine snort of mirth. “Daughter, even I should not get involved with Galina’s business.”

Liandrin rarely has the self-awareness to be embarassed, but her curt “Of course, Mother.” comes close.

Siuan sighs despite herself; she knows this game, she shouldn’t allow herself to grow frustrated. Many in the Tower would share her bed for the chance at power or favours, even those with no liking for women. Some may even twist a supposed absence of a lover into their scheming. She’ll take a chance to surround herself with a few tame sharks amidst the frothing waters and hope they keep the hungrier ones away.

Liandrin’s disconcerting eagerness aside, Siuan could have her pick of the Tower. The truth is the only one she wants is Moiraine, a woman years and miles gone. Instead, she reaches for the only shadow of her she can find here: the woman who had Moiraine before her. Siuan feels a perverse resonation with Moiraine as she brings Liandrin into her bed, tries to retrace the path Moiraine once kissed, imagining some lingering scent of her on Liandrin’s skin even now. She wonders if Liandrin feels the same. Floundering attempts at subterfuge aside, Siuan knows Liandrin’s proclivities. Moiraine is everything Liandrin wishes she was and fails to be. Does her own obsession then drive her to Siuan, collecting corporeal aspects of Moiraine’s life in the same way she tries to emulate her decorum, her noble status? Does she kiss Siuan so deeply in search of reminder of Moiraine too, or is she trying to unseat Moiraine at even this task? Does she linger so long in her conquest because Moiraine once had it, or does she gloat that Moiraine lost it?

All this crosses Siuan’s mind in a flash, before she gives Liandrin a chance to feel too put out. Time to bait the trap.

“You are right that I am perhaps … on edge,” she offers reluctantly. “I had been thinking on some unfortunate news earlier tonight, before you arrived.”

The way Liandrin pretends she didn’t immediately perk up is comical in its ineptitude. Siuan tries to imagine what Liandrin and Moiraine speaking intimately would have looked like, but it’s like picturing a minnow in a pike’s wake. Still, she must man the rudder carefully, directing Liandrin away from her true goal, believably, without revealing too much. Moiraine’s cipher received shortly ago points to the furthest west of Andor, the Two Rivers, and to a fellow in Ghealdan, although the timing of his birth appears inaccurate: Siuan checked it against the list of names in her blackwood box herself. Give another name, then.

“I hesitate to tell you this, daughter, but there have been reports from Tarabon of a lowborn country man wandering the roads speaking as if to a companion who is not there. Now I’m not one to rig the sails based on rumour, especially when one might be inclined to declare him simply unwell, but the number of reports keeps adding up. Any sign towards madness must be investigated. A man may seem harmless until he suddenly is not.”

Siuan can picture how Liandrin’s lips tighten as she answers, the slight lisp that appears when she is overworked now in her words.

“Mother, you must leave this to me. That is why the Red exists, to determine the truth in such rumours, yes? If I could perform just one such task to ease your mind, well, I’d consider it an honour.”

“It won’t be too difficult, returning to your home?”

“Mother, the Tower is our only home, yes?”

Liandrin sits up suddenly, as if realizing she has overstayed her welcome. She gathers her clothes while she continues to speak.

“Mother forgive my abrupt departure but there really is so much to prepare if I am to go. I assume I have your leave to take some of my Red sisters with me?”

Siuan nods, barely perceptible in the dark but Liandrin was not waiting for permission anyways. She gave away more than she realized: she did not question Siuan’s insinuation Galina had something to do with Sitter appointments, confirming Siuan’s assumption of who headed the Red Ajah. While Galina may be annoyed at Siuan delegating this task to Liandrin, she can’t cause too much fuss unless she wants to reveal her status herself.

In the morning, with Liandrin conveniently preoccupied, Siuan will summon Karene from the Greens to address the true concern of Logain. With Ghealdan plunged into war, the Battle Ajah’s combat expertise will be required, and a Sister will need to be planted among the Houses to help guide a new monarch into a stable rule. Siuan had heard Seonid Sedai was near Ghealdan: if she could be found, perhaps a Cairhienin would be best suited for playing this Game. Liandrin’s chosen syncophants will be off to Tarabon, leaving Karene with her pick of more moderate Red sisters to bring to Ghealdan. By the time Liandrin catches up to Karene, because she inevitably will, Moiraine should be well out of the Two Rivers. Planting one conspiracy for Liandrin to unearth will hopefully keep her and the rest of the Tower off of Moiraine for a little longer.

With these thoughts racing, Siuan barely notices Liandrin slip out. Few will be in the Tower halls at this hour, but perhaps one or two will notice Liandrin’s departure, spread a few rumours of their own. Whatever helps further separate Siuan and Moiraine in the minds of the Sisters: they can never suspect their true relationship. She needs to sleep. If she’s lucky - or maybe unlucky - she’ll dream of Moiraine.

[lightleckrereins]

Not sure if you’ve discussed this before but have you seen the “Willyacos” Six costumes on Amazon? They’re obviously cheap knockoffs and not anywhere near the same quality as the actual costumes, but seem like a good middle ground between the Simplicity costume patterns and no kidding making a full on replica costume (for at least most of them… the Howard skirt leaves more to be desired, same with the Parr pants)

Better known as the infamous aliexpress costumes. Basically like with most pieces of popular media a (most likely chinese) costume factory takes whatever photos come up first in google search and makes the costume in the cheapest, fastest way possible, that still looks close enough to the photo. The six ones can be currently found from a few different amazon sellers and at least an aliexpress one.

I'm not saying they are good, or legal, but they are definitely better than the simplicity pattern. As much as some people defend the simplicity as a good beginner friendly alternative it is not good aside from maybe the boleyn skirt. You will be better off combining other preexisting patterns and easy tutorials (I could make a list if there is interest in this). The amazon/aliexpress at least aknowledge its six characters, that Cleves is red and not silver and has only shorts and that Parr has full lenght leggins.

Honestly it is a you get what you pay for, those costumes are cheap and in no way you can make something close to the stage costumes for that money (also if you ask me some are overpriced). But if it is for a halloween costume, for a group with friends, to go see the show in costume, go for it. The main point of dressing up is to have fun. And if doing the (not simple, fast, or cheap) whole costume making process is not your thing that doesn't mean you can't have fun dressing up.

Like you mentioned a lot of things leave a lot to be desired. But its more like quality is all over the place. I've seen some people who bought the costumes and from what I can tell. Aragon is a great deal for the price, it has the cutotut design printed, plastic stud trim and spikes on the shoulders (I've seen official kids disney princess costumes with less accurate details). Seymour is not bad but it has no tabs on the back and has rhinestone trim instead of studs or pearls. The other four are the old designs and look not great (there is another amazon store with much better boleyn and parr costumes).

In a way I don't support those costumes, they are profiting out of copyrighted material and doing it badly. But in this house we don't gatekeep cosplay. The point is having fun. So here are a few very low budget ways you can make those costumes look better.

First of all accesories, get a good pair of fishnets and layer them over skin toned tights, get a cheap karaoke mic and decorate it, spike pracelets for crowns, find some makeup tutorials and do a cool look, look into current and former queens with a simmilar look to you for hair inspiration. There are many things that make or break the look, if you don't have the most detailed costume lean into the others.

Then some cheap ideas for things you can add to improve the look: buy a half pearl trim similar to what the aragon costume has to add in place of studs, half plastic pearls for the loose studs on the cutouts, mesh if you want to add fake cutouts, strass rhinestone tape makes a great replacement for crystals for the boots (I'm actually working on a tutorial for removable straps with this). Add cheap boning to the skirts and sides of the tops for better structure (sewn if possible otherwise colored tape can do wonders). Craft stores sell gold and silver chains that you can add to A/S/C, a well shaped B or K even if it is painted cardboard finishes those looks. Costumes bought online aren't the best but that doesn't mean you can'd improve them.

[mandrakebrew]

Pillow Talk

Words: 654 Rating: Teen Content Warning: oc x canon, sex mention

Dr Palmer never cared for their own face. Or, more accurately, the people they grew up around didn't care for their face. Any compliment about their appearance now rung hollow, swallowed up by a torrent of insults and snide remarks.

Then they met Skull Face. Without words, they understood. Not to the same degree of course, but they understood. They never brought it up to him, though. How can they complain about their face to a man without one?

That being said, they did like his face. Regardless of what anyone else might say, they were smitten. Sadly, they could only look and study its details for a few seconds before their commander got fed up and told them to knock it off.

He was more relaxed and pliant after he came, though. A fact the doctor was taking advantage of at the moment. They ignore cleaning up for a bit, and instead roll him onto his back while they lie next to him. His eyes remain shut. They take in the dark coloration of the sockets. Next, the line of divots that trail up above his right eye. The color and pattern remind them of the full moon.

Their gaze goes to his lips. It's only now they notice a tiny arch in his upper lip. They can see his teeth through it a bit.

They look at his Glasgow smile. The thought that his skin had been damaged to the point his cheeks split open kills them. Without thinking, they reach forward and trace one side of it with their thumb, down to the small arch in his lip.

This causes him to finally open his eyes, and he looks at them. “Staring again?”

Admiring, they want to correct him. “Yup.”

They expect him to move their hand away, or to get up and get a towel, but he does neither for the moment. Simply staring back at them.

Skull Face is starting to wonder if they enjoy making him squirm on purpose. The scrutiny is new to him. It's been a long day though, and let's them get it out of their system, at least for now.

Palmer continues to feel the dips and ridges of his chin, and then his cheek. His skin is slightly rough, lacking the elasticity of their own skin, but strangely soft in its own unique way.

Their fingers make their way to the dark spots above his right eye, and that's when he puts a stop to it. He grabs their hand and firmly moves it away.

They don't hide the frustrated look that crosses their face. They relent though and opt to lay their hand on his chest.

“Just why do you insist on doing that?”

“Why do you think?” A genuine question. They’re curious as to what’s going through his head.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking.”

“No guesses? None?” Palmer’s thumb is now idly tracing one of the deep scares across his chest.

“Aside from irritating me, no.”

“As fun as that is, that isn’t my intention.”

“Then what?”

“Is it really that hard to believe I enjoy looking at my partner’s face?”

He just huffs in response.

They can’t help but smile. His behavior is endearing, even if the reason behind is much less so. Palmer tends to avoid the topic of his appearance. They’re not sure how to make him believe what they say isn’t flattery or politeness. Something the doctor often assumes others are doing when they compliment them.

“Well, it’s true,” They push themselves out of bed finally to go fetch a towel.

“Right,” He responds sarcastically.

Palmer stops before they leave the room, and turns. “Would you accept it if I said the reason I think your face is beautiful is because it’s yours?”

At least that’s what they say in their head. They lose their nerve and go to get a towel from the bathroom.

[whump-me-all-night-long]

Bleeding Leads

AI-less Whumptober Day 5: Kidnapped

Masterlist

TW: minor character death, threatening of minors (brief and not detailed at all), implied/descriptions of torture, damn this makes it sound way worse than it is, I promise this is just more of Devin making Poor Life Choices(TM)

---

Friday rolled around faster than Devin had expected. All day, they had sat at their desk, tapping their foot nervously or twirling a pencil between their fingers or typing, deleting, and retyping the same sentence over and over. 

As soon as the clock hit 5pm, Devin was out of the door, a surge of anticipation following them like a cloud. 

Getting ready was a blurry haze. One moment, Devin was walking into their cramped apartment, and the next, they were in a cab that idled in front of enormous wrought iron gates with decorative Ws interlocking.

Trembling slightly, Devin paid the driver and got out, waiting until it drove off before heading over to the little intercom box. A buzz sounded as they pressed the button. Fiddling nervously with the straps of their shoulder bag, Devin tried to take some calming breaths and-

“Yes?” A gruff male voice.

“Oh, um, hi. I was invited here. I have an invitation.” Devin waved the card in front of the intercom, unable to tell if it had a camera or not.

There was no reply, just another buzz, but slowly the gates creaked open and Devin, with one look back over their shoulder, headed towards the giant mansion in front of them. Despite the extravagance of the property around them, the driveway, thankfully, was not too long, but still, by the time Devin reached the front door, they were cursing themself for wearing the heeled shoes they had chosen instead of their roughed up Converse. 

Devin reached out and knocked on the door with a surprisingly heavy iron knocker shaped like a bear’s head. Waiting anxiously, they tugged at the bottom of their blazer, hoping it was appropriate attire for the evening. They had worn a dove gray pantsuit with a black top underneath (really, it was just a clean tank top, but looked professional enough with the blazer atop) that still fit them relatively well, considering the outfit was from high school.

Jumping slightly at the sound of the door opening, Devin straightened themself, with a neutral smile. The man answering the door was tall, very tall, with tanned skin, dark brown hair, and scary, narrowed eyes. “Can I help you?”

Swallowing, Devin held out the invitation, silently cursing at the way the card revealed the tremors running through their body. “I, um, I have an invitation.”

The man took the invitation wordlessly, studying it intently for several long moments, before stepping aside and opening the door further. 

Devin took a cautious step inside, their heel tapping against the shining wooden floor, unable to stop themself from gawking just a little. Directly in front of them were a pair of double doors that seemed to lead into a formal lounge area. Outside of the doors was a sweeping marble staircase that met at the top. Devin couldn’t help but be astonished at the nonchalant display of wealth. Noticing what appeared to be solid gold door handles, Devin’s eyes grew impossibly wider. A single one of those could pay my rent for months!

The man closed the door behind them, the handle clicking shut ominously. Turning away from them, he began down a side hallway.

“Follow me,” the man rasped. “Please.” He seemed almost pained after noticing Devin’s inattention. 

Snapping to, Devin followed carefully behind, cheeks burning slightly in embarrassment. They were led down a series of seemingly identical hallways, up a couple flights of stairs and then down a couple flights, until Devin couldn’t possibly have said where they were. 

Finally, after a few more minutes of walking in awkward silence, they stopped in front of  a thick wooden door, made of shining mahogany. The man rapped out a series of knocks that seemed to be a specific pattern.

Moments later, Devin heard the sound of a lock turning, before a face appeared in the crack of the doorway.

Glancing at Devin for half a second, the man they recognized as Erik Wildre looked to the man that had led them here. 

“This is them?” he confirmed quietly, and, at the man’s dip of his chin, a smile broke out on his face, revealing straight white teeth. “Fantastic.”

Turning to Devin, he stuck a hand out, making sure to keep the door fairly closed around him. Devin just caught a glimpse of darkness with flickering shadows as they cautiously accepted the handshake.

Glancing at his watch, Mr. Wildre said, “Well, you appear to be a few minutes early but that’s no problem at all! In fact, why don’t you come on in? I’m just finishing one last thing and then I’m all yours. In fact, I believe what I’m working on may interest your employer.” Turning around, he opened the door wider behind him.

Feeling the heavy gaze of the muscled man behind them, Devin ignored every single instinct in their body and followed inside, barely biting back their gasp as they took in the scene before them.

A man, probably in his late forties or early fifties, hung from his wrists, a pair of manacles hung from a hook in the ceiling. His feet barely brushed against the floor, and one of his shoulders was oddly stretched out, Devin could only assume it was dislocated. Aside from a ripped pair of pants that must have cost a pretty penny originally, the man was naked and nearly every single inch of his skin was covered in markings of some kind. Cuts, burns, bruises. Devin thought they even caught a glimpse of what looked like a brand on the man’s back. 

The room around them was dimly lit, with a raging fireplace along the middle of the back wall. Aside from that, there was the concrete flooring that Devin tried to not look too hard at. The walls were covered in instruments of all sorts, some of which Devin couldn’t even begin to guess the purpose of. 

Swallowing, Devin glanced behind themself, only to see their guide stepping in behind them and closing the door, cutting off the bright hallway lights. Devin’s heart pounded faster as they heard the sound of a lock clicking closed before the man slipped a small iron key into some interior pocket of his.

Devin jumped slightly as Mr. Wildre addressed them, already staring at the bloodied man with cold eyes. “Mx. Corvin, if you wouldn’t mind stepping aside. I shouldn’t be more than a few more minutes.”

Not needing to be told twice, Devin shuffled backwards until they hit the brick wall behind them, the only one without the terrifying devices hanging along it. They definitely didn’t need to be told to not object to being called the wrong name. Maybe it was a simple lapse in memory?

Devin could only watch, speechless, as Mr. Wildre picked up a bloodied knife, pressing it to the side of the man’s beer belly. Smiling slightly at the man’s resulting flinch and soft whimpering, he spoke, emotionless. “I can do this all evening, Edmund. You know this. But-” he pressed in until a single bead of blood rolled down the man- Edmund’s skin- “you know I can be merciful and end this right now.”

The man, openly sobbing, shook his head weakly. “Wildre!” he gasped, breathless. “You know me! I didn’t do it! I don’t know what happened! It was an ambush, it wasn’t-”

“Shhh,” Mr. Wildre cooed softly, moving the knife up to the man’s chest, digging the tip in right over where Devin was pretty sure the heart was located. “You know how much I hate excuses, Edmund. You were the last one with the drugs and the money. Now, thanks to you, whether through betrayal or stupidity, both are gone and I’ve got the Mordens calling for my blood, crying double-cross.”

The man continued blubbering. “I- I swear, it wasn’t me! It was a trap, I tried to stop, please-”

Mr. Wildre hummed softly under his breath, considering the man before him. “Swear it,” he said finally. “Swear it on your daughters’ lives. On Evelyn and Sophia’s lives.”

The man paused, eyes flashing with fear, and that hesitation was seemingly enough to confirm whatever Mr. Wildre’s beliefs were.

He pressed on, unwavering. “How old are they now? Ten? Eleven?”

“They- they turn thirteen in a few days,” Edmund said hoarsely. “Please, they’re innocent! They have nothing- nothing to, to do with any of this!”

Mr. Wildre blinked, face unchanging. “But, you claim to be innocent, too, don't you, Edmund? So why are you so terrified of swearing it on your daughters’ lives? You said it yourself-” he leaned closer to the terrified man- “you know me, and you know that I always find out the truth in the end.” He tilted his head slightly, going for the killing blow. “So why do you not want me to find out the truth? Is it because you actually did fuck up this badly on accident, or did you accept that bribe that one Leo Pendelton offered you?”

Devin could actually see the blood draining from Edmund’s face as he opened and closed his mouth, gaping like a fish. Finally, letting out a soft sob, he hung his head in defeat. “Please,” he begged. “My girls, they’re innocent, they don’t know anything, please, just don’t hurt them-”

Mr. Wildre scoffed, cutting him off. “What do you think I am? A monster? I don’t kill children.” Disgust dripped from his words as his lip curled condescendingly. Then, before Devin truly had time to register the movement, the knife was flashing upward, slicing deep into Edmund’s neck.

Unable to help themself, Devin leapt backwards, a small scream slipping out of their mouth as they stared in horror at the man hanging before them who was slowly choking to death on his own blood. His body shuddered and red droplets sprayed from his cracked lips. Unable to tear their eyes away from the morbid sight, Devin could only watch as the jerky movements slowly weakened before finally stilling and, with a single glance at his eyes, Devin knew he was dead.

Blinking hard to keep back tears, Devin turned to face Mr. Wildre, who was watching their reaction with a critical eye. Carelessly wiping the bloodied blade on his pants leg, he offered Devin a smile. “Sorry that it got so nasty, Mx. Corvin. Now, you’re here on official business, are you not?”

Devin had to open their mouth several times before they were able to form words. “Yes, apologies. I, um, wasn’t expecting to interrupt… other business tonight. We, ah, we can always reschedule if you would prefer that.” Devin slowly backed up, inching towards the door as inconspicuous as possible, their mind racing too fast for them to process and the only thought they could truly form was getting the hell out of there as fast as possible. Then, Devin bumped into the door sooner than they expected, and the door was oddly warm, and not smooth, and-

Fuck my life.

Slowly turning their head, Devin saw the muscled man standing in front of the door, blocking it easily with his large frame. 

“Going somewhere?” Mr. Wildre’s dry voice asked.

Trying to remain breathing, Devin slowly turned to look back at him. “Apologies. I, um, my employer didn’t necessarily pre-prepare me for this.” They waved a shaking hand at the corpse, still hanging just feet away.

“Hmm,” Mr. Wildre said noncommittally. “And your employer is…?”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Giving a weak smile, Devin held their hands up in a non threatening gesture. “Listen, I think there might have been an accidental miscommunication here. I think I might have gotten the, the time or, um, the address wrong. So I think, I’m just going to head out, and call it a night. My, um, my lips are sealed.” Devin gulped, glancing between the two men bracketing them in.

“I’m only going to ask this one time, love,” Mr. Wildre said softly, almost tenderly, if Devin didn’t know any better. “Who the fuck are you?”

---

Taglist: @ailesswhumptober @panic-whump @cupcakes-and-pain @lonesome--hunter @latenightcupsofcoffee @badluck990

[wine4thewin]

Any tips for writing smut/romance? Because yours is delicious!

Thank you ☺️

Well, I’d say it’s a long process of trial and error within finding your voice in writing. I’ve been at it for probably 20-ish years and when I first wrote smut maybe a decade ago…it was soooooo bad 🤣 even to this day I will post something with a scene and feel extremely insecure! I’m like, oh God, was it bad!? 😅

Take all of this with a grain of salt. What I feel strongly about, other people may not feel the same. The writing process is different for everyone.

It also depends on your goal. Just regular p*rny smut or thought-out erotica?

1. Emotional Payoff: I find myself writing giant slow burns more than anything these days. Why? Because I want the cumulation of events to feel impactful to the reader. I don’t even mean “oh, the characters have fallen in love” emotional payoff. Sometimes, they aren’t in love. Sometimes, they are struggling with feelings, with beliefs, with conflicts…and I want the first erotic scene to be impactful to the plot, not just ‘thrown in for the hell of it’. It must add to the story and I want it to be a turning point or realization of sorts for the characters…for better or worse. Can this be done without a slow burn? Yes. But it takes a very precise prose to do it in a short piece.

Essentially, beyond my long-windedness, I am saying the smut should mean something to the story to be emotionally impactful to the reader, even if the act is meaningless to the characters themselves at that time. That is the difference IMO between erotica and flat, emotionless p#rny writing.

More below the cut - 18+ for some scenarios mentioned, but nothing crazy or offensive.

2. Sometimes Less Crude is More Sexy: This depends on your goal. Are you aiming for just how many dirty words you can cram in a paragraph? Seems a bit wild, but sometimes certain words can make a smut scene more impactful. I used to write every single gory detail with blunt, crude words. Did it work? Sure. Was it the sort of writing that made people feel a flutter or emotional response aside from ‘ooo dirty smut’? Maybe not.

Back to emotion. Emotional words can take your smut to the next level. You could say your male character ‘grabbed her thighs and spread them quickly, his huge *insert crude word* hard and ready to stuff her dripping *insert crude word*’.

Or, you could say instead, ‘the calloused tips of his fingers ghosted across her skin, making her shiver with anticipation. The tremble in his touch betrayed his inexperience, even as he moved slowly between her thighs. She could feel that he was eager for her, pressed as he was against her own desire…and she would take all he had to offer and more.

There would be no going back from this.

“Am I what you want?” His voice was an utterance across her lips, gaze dark and questioning. Pupils wide, consuming her.

There was no need to answer aloud. She shifted her hips and took him for herself.’

The above is me setting the stage for the act itself, all while putting in words and sentences that reveal small emotions, details, insecurities, dominance, and desires. Idk, you tell me, I just made that whole scene up on the spot 😂

When you read something that makes you react, remind yourself of the words the writer used that made you feel. Was it because they pulled you into the scene, had you feel with the character you love? Or was it because they said dripping vajayjay twenty times? Different strokes for different folks!

3. Don’t Be Repetitive: Refer to genitalia in different ways, but don’t be obnoxiously flowery like the harlequin novels of old and their “his staff of love quivered in her touch” sorta thing. More like, “his desire was velvet covered steel under her grasp / his firm length” or “she was swollen against his fingertips, ready, glistening with arousal”. You can get away with saying d#ck a few times, but it gets annoying and eye-rolling if it’s every sentence. You can check out this list for ideas!

4. Use Location/Situation to Your Advantage: where are these characters? Semi-public? In private? Are they forbidden being together? Or is their love considered illegal or shameful in your fantasy/sci-fi country? Bring feelings of ‘could we be caught, excitement, the thrill, shame, struggling with own beliefs, reluctance yes, even reluctance’ into the smut to amp up the stakes.

5. Not All Sex is Perfect: hey, we don’t always get it right the first time. I’ve written one character having the time of his life from his POV, only to find out his partner didn’t exactly find him as awe-inspiring 🤣 but, his partner gave him another chance, what a saint jk jk, and the emotional aspect of this previously very selfish character realizing he feels strongly about pleasing someone other than himself for the first time ever was a huge plot point with the smut.

Don’t be afraid of awkward sex, reassuring sex, figuring things out together sex…they can always get it right the next time!

6. If You Write a Kink, Go Deep: size kink, BDSM, A/B/O, etc. if you are going to do it, really commit to it. Don’t mention it vaguely, because if people are looking for that in your smut because you tagged it as such, don’t leave them hanging! I had to study BDSM terms, read blogs of those in the life and their experiences to even come close to writing authentically about it (and I mean stuff beyond generic spanking, such as the risks of edgeplay, knife play, wax play, sensory deprivation, subspace, etc).

Closing thoughts before I ramble you into the abyss from whence you won’t return:

Overall, writing is to have fun! Don’t be hard on yourself, it’s always a learning process. Ask for feedback on your smut, observe what you like about your favorite authors, practice practice practice.

Much of my advice may be considered advanced (or maybe it’s all shit LOL) but I hope some of it helps bring food for thought and helps others on their ever-continuing journey of creative writing!

[thelivingmemegod]

Thoughts on the outfits from the Monster High live action movies (this is gonna be a long post I can already feel it)

I’m working off promo shots cuz I’m Not watching these movies my head would explode.

Toralei: she’s first cuz she’s only in the one movie.

I like most of her outfit. Her skirt feels out of place because the colors and print feel random. Nothing else like that shows in her outfit so it looks a bit…off. This could honestly just be fixed with more drafts

Frankie

Movie one:

G E T THIS PARTY CITY, HALLOWEEN SPIRIT PLASTIC CHAIN HAVING MF-ERY OUT OF HERE P L E A S E. The worst part about their outfit is that it’s so fuckin’ plain??? Like the dress is completely patternless, the chains do pull the eye down but they’re also placed so they hang over the front and not their hip which looks SUPREMELY awkward, the tie is the most eye catching thing on them and that’s bad because it pulls too much focus from their face! The stiff collar shirt, tights and shoes are just fine, I like the idea of them trying to mix these very different looks and the ripped tights pull interest to the legs after the VOID OF NOTHINGNESS THAT IS THE PINAFORE DRESS.

Movie two:

This. This is SO MUCH BETTER.

While it’s not quite to my personal taste, as an outfit this is wayyy better. The vibrant neons on a black background is pretty tried and true and it looks pretty dang good here too! Like the color choices but the placements really make it here. The neon green strips around the arms and neck don’t pull focus from their face but they do pull it down to the rest of the outfit! The weird fishnet shirt underneath (while not my favorite) works with their belts and bracelets to pull the eye down, the belt chain and zipper detailing on their cargo pants continue the trend, then you hit their platforms and the silver/white parts pull you RIGHT back up to their hair. I also love the mix of punk and prep they did here with the crop sweater vest and the cargo pants. Overall: Wonderful, wouldn’t change much about it.

Draculuara

Movie one:

Aside from how cheap it looks, I don’t hate the basics. It also doesn’t fail the interest curve like Frankie’s first outfit. The pink isn’t very well dispersed and mostly focused on the top half of her (her hair, puff sleeves, neckline and belt). I will admit they did a good job keeping her outfit and skin from clashing (in promo at least).

Then you get to the small void of her skirt. If you just take the end lace and make that the same color as her under shirt, belt or necktie you’d be so much better off. Personally I would’ve given her a few different thin petticoats in different shades of pink so that A. Her dress would look fuller and either exaggerate her A-line and break her up from Clawdeen and B. Give her movement and more variation. When she moves or sits, you’d see all the shades of pink peaking out from under her skirt.

I say different shades of pink because it would also pull in her light pink Maryjane’s (her shoes) I only think they work because of her wearing tights, otherwise they’re the same color as her skin. I personally would’ve gone with lace socks (lace tights exist I just think that would’ve been too much)

Movie two:

This outfit shows what I was talking about with her skirt from the last one. It also shows what I meant with her pink colors clashing with each other. In promo for the second movie, her frock coat (the jacket dress), hair and skin are all fighting each other. It makes her hair look faded, her skin look washed out and her frock coat look VIOLENTLY PINK.

It works on Frankie with their blue because A. It’s used way less and B. it’s a different tone from their skin.

Draculaura’s is fighting with her.

Now the underside of her dress is also why I’d use several shades of pink, cuz that just looks flat.

This one might be more of a me problem, but her shoes are violently pink but they’re the wrong *shade* of violent pink which bothers me.

I do love the pink panel and buttons on her frock coat and her heart belt. Looks like the vampire heart from Frights, Camera, Action.

Cleo isn’t in movie 2 promos for some reason so movie one only-

Party city is once again the problem.

I. Structurally it’s not bad. There’s interest throughout and it’s technically on theme. This outfit is bad because it feels misfit to the person wearing it and it looks cheap.

Her skirt looks like a bathmat, her wraps look weirdly…dirty? Like they don’t look like old wraps, they look like dirty gold silks, which she’d NEVER wear. Also why do they tie twice?? And why do the hanging ties look like a completely different material from the rest of the wrap??

Her jewlery is dull in color and looks very floaty and light all contributing to the cheap costume-y, party city look.

Her shoes are fine, they’re a different shade of blue but that doesn’t really matter here.

Another thing I think makes it look like Not-Cleo is that there’s not enough asymmetry. The wraps G1 Cleo had on her arms gave a ton of nice looking asymmetry that was added onto by bangles or purses. G1 Cleo does have looks without these and they’re more symmetrical, but they’re the exception, not the rule. She’s also just not accessorized as much as I think Cleo would be.

BIG SECTION INCOMING I HAVE FUCKING THOUGHTS BABY

CLAWDEEN WOLF:

Movie one:

What. What the FUCK is this mess. It’s so busy. So busy.

There’s no interest anywhere because it’s too damn busy. EVEN HER FUCKING SHOES ARE BUSY. The fur coat is completely and totally unnecessary in this outfit, it shouldn’t be here. Put it on something ELSE.

Her belts feels like a slap in the face because it’s an ATTEMPT to separate the patterns of her skirt and shirt, but one is ALSO PATTERNED and one is a whole different texture. And they’re both too thin to help anyways! I hate this.

Not that making it chunkier would exactly help this awful decision. I want to delete this skirt so badly- there’s no reason for it to be patterned like this, they just WANTED TOO.

I give the move shirt a pass because she’s a lost kid and her only connection point is the moon. So okay, that’s fine. If you can explain to me why the skirt and shoes and patterned like that beyond “she’s a werewolf!” Then I’ll eat a fuckin shoe or something I just-

Movie two:

Better. Quite a bit better.

I don’t love that they got rid of the only pattern that made any sense for her character. Especially since she’s supposed to beefing with the cat girl, yet she’s wearing a cheetah print skirt. The belt is chunkier and does a way better job separating things out, it also pulls the color of her jacket’s fur trim in-I don’t like that color here, but it works.

Speaking of! Her jacket is no longer an offense to fashion, it’s much more tasteful with just a purple fur trim. As for the color…her whole outfit is honestly very cold shades of purple, and they don’t mix that well together. Mostly the skirt vs the jacket. There’s also not enough interest all out, the skirt pattern is eating it all up so your eye is just drawn to the lower middle of her body rather then her face because purple curls are blending with the jacket.

Her shoes are super inoffensive.

I hate these so bad in part because Clawdeen is supposed to be into fashion isn’t she??? (Unless they changed that) She’d know these things- so it pisses me off some-

[twoparrotprojects]

And with some rest, now I can write more in-depth posts.

First, the skins which I will break up into multiple posts due to the 30 image limit.

Part 1/11

First batch is Aphmau.

Starting with her Freshman skins that I've finished.

Ro'Meave Dinner: Pretty much the same save for some stockings (pantyhose) and some colour changes. Nothing too crazy like the pdh uniform overhaul.

Bake Sale: I changed up the entire maid outfit, plus made it slightly.. less provocative maybe? considering the inspiration and everything. The inspiration being the Shizuku-tan costume from My Dress Up Darling.

Prom Night: Save for the dress shape, shoe, and rose colour change, nothing much was changed.

Pajamas: Again, nothing much aside from colour changes and a sock being rolled down. Though it's attributed as a freshman skin, it's likely I'll tweak it a bit if I am able to make the pipe dream of a machinima production a reality at some point in the future.

Next, her Sophomore skins.

Casual: I took some inspiration from y2k fashion I found on google. Instead of.. Idk what she was wearing in the source material- instead of that, I gave her a tank top layered underneath a shirt, some jean shorts layered over a pair of black leggings, and some purple sneakers rather than her ratty red runners in her freshman year skins.

Pajamas: Save for her night shirt being baggier, the overlay details, and colour changes, not much was changed. Again, I might tweak this and every other skin that might need it if I'm able to do a machinima production of my reimagining.

Activewear: Nothing much changed again aside from her tanktop being changed into a shirt and some colour changed.

As for her sophomore uniform, it's functionally the same as her freshman uniform. The only thing different is her hair and shoes. Therefore it's kinda useless to show it here and list off what I've already said in this paragraph.

Next batch, Aaron.

First order of business is his senior outfits.

Overall: Aside from making his hair tinted red, I kept everything mostly the same. Sticking to the hair guide I drafted up a while back.

Uniform: The first instance I've shown where the uniform differs slightly. When I made the uniform templates, I made three main variants for both 4px and 3px skins. The one Aphmau, Travis, and Zane sport is the tidy variant, whereas the one Aaron's sporting is the sleeves-rolled up variant. Well, one of the variants with the sleeves rolled up. The variants I made at the time were the one Aaron's wearing, the tidy variant, and the "untidy" variant, which 2 of the characters currently finished wear.

Casual: Again, I didn't change much from the source material on this one, just a few colour changes.

Prom: And once again, nothing much changed. The suit I made myself, but the rose and colour choices (namely red-tinted-black) were kept the same.

Next, his freshman university skins.

Casual: Exactly the same as his senior year casual, however, I ripped his jeans, frayed the rips slightly, added a bit more weathering, fixed his shirt, and rolled his sleeves down one pixel.

Uniform: The same aside from his were wolf ears and tail.

[wrecking-man]

Komivergence Chapter 3 - Dark History Tour 1

Chapter summary: This chapter, things start to take a different turn... Tadano and Komi are dropped into a universe in which the two had yet to even meet. The title is your hint.

This is actually going to be chapter 4 eventually, but I'm skipping over the Komi Theft Auto Komiverse for the time being so that I can plan it out more... I also just have a stronger desire to write this one...

Click here to read the full chapter on AO3.

Click here to see all of my works.

A deeply unsettling chill ran down Tadano’s spine as he looked around and noticed exactly where it was he had just ‘dropped in’... He could run a marathon on the amount of adrenaline that started pumping through his system when the realization fully hit him.

Had it not been for the extreme mental fatigue caused by his current set of circumstances, perhaps he would have been okay with seeing this place again—he had a girlfriend now, after all—but there was no way of knowing that for sure. What he did know was that in this moment, he would almost rather die than return to ‘this place’...

It was his old middle school... Or, more precisely—its athletics field...!

It was exactly how he remembered it. In essence, it was nothing more than your standard, wide-open dirt field. A runner’s track had been laid out in chalk dust just recently, and so the lines were still looking neat, crisp and fresh...

Tadano started to feel a bit weak in the knees, so he squatted down low, with his feet perfectly flat to the ground.

He subconsciously clenched his teeth in shame over his weakness, and fought the slowly-rising urge to vomit his guts out as the events from ‘that day’ began to loop in his mind... The memories had long since crystallized in sickening detail, and they had become an inescapable part of his legacy... His ‘dark history’!

He could practically see the echoes of his younger self naively painting away with the school’s ‘field chalker’ (or ‘line marker’). It was a small piece of equipment on wheels that released chalk at a set thickness, and at an even rate. On that infamous day, he had used it to write the word ‘LOVE’—in English, no less—in the center of the runner’s track in big, bold letters... It was more than large enough to easily be seen from their classroom.

That was naturally a crucial step in his preparations for ‘Operation L’.

Later that same day, perhaps even a news helicopter might have seen it and reported on it for a fluffy, feelgood piece. Who knows?

...As the thoughts of that day continued their assault, Tadano covered and gripped his face with one hand out of reflex while his fight or flight response kicked into overdrive. It was a wonder he had not yet had a heart attack. He felt, more than anything, that he should not be there.

Could anyone blame him...? Setting aside the current matter of involuntary universe hopping... A part of him had died that day. And truth be told, he would have loved nothing more than to keep it dead... That old cringey, forced persona of his.

He marinated in his feelings of embarrassment and anxiety for just a few minutes.

...

Okay, that’s enough...

Tadano took in a long, drawn out breath in an effort to relax. He held it in for at least half a minute before finally lowering his arms, resting his elbows on his knees, and letting it all out slowly.

At least the sun on his skin felt nice... With his eyes closed, he lifted his face towards the sun and let out the last of his breath.

The initial shock was finally wearing off, and the gears in his head were gradually beginning to turn once more. He took several more slow, deep breaths to calm himself further so that he could think about this latest development more rationally...

He had quickly learned not to entertain such optimistic notions as him and Komi finally being back in their original universe. (Last time he did that he was met with a gun to his head, after all.)

...That was a traumatizing experience he would like to not repeat if at all possible.

This time was already shaping up differently, of course... And not merely for a lack of guns in his face.

This time, he was completely alone...

As he thought things over more carefully, Tadano finally understood the significance of his arrival at this place and time. It was not a knowing based on any tangible evidence, mind you, but rather a knowing that welled up from deep within his soul... Why else would I have dropped in here?

It was that kind of feeling.

He let out a deep sigh... His body lightly shivered despite the mild heat he was currently basking in. For the life of him, he could not fully calm his nerves.

Being alone in this moment was pure suffering.

This entire ordeal would have been so much easier if only Komi were there with him... but regrettably she was nowhere in sight. He had to keep telling himself that she had to be fine—that she was probably just in a similar situation right now...

Heck. For all he knew, she was probably just ‘home’ and trying to give some kind of explanation to ‘her parents’. Not to mention her middle school counterpart... He could scarcely envision how that might be going for her, but nonetheless it brought a sad smile to his face as he briefly tried to picture it...

Regardless of whatever she was doing in this moment, he just wished with all his heart that she could be standing there with him instead—or squatting, in this case. Failing that, he wished that she was at least safe.

Being separated, on top of being in another universe, was no trivial matter. He could not help but worry... What if they never saw each other again?

He shook his head. I can’t go thinking like that... In any case, let’s just get this over with already so I can go look for her. Where is ‘me’...?

Meanwhile, a short distance away—hidden inside a set of bushes—a middle school boy was carefully observing our protagonist.

He had been watching... waiting... for a little while now.

This was just what the boy needed... Of course it had to be now of all times, didn’t it...? A delinquent was squatting right where he needed to ‘get to work’.

He was fully prepared to enact Operation L—and in fact, you could say the operation had already begun! He had put a letter in his crush’s shoe locker earlier in the day asking her to meet him behind the school building after school... So the clock was ticking!

He had planned this out over a month in advance, even going as far as scoping the place out with his best friend Najimi.

...Tadano (C) was getting restless. Come on, man...

He was hoping that the delinquent would simply leave on his own, without any need of direct intervention.

The more he read the situation, however, the more he got this weird sense of familiarity with the delinquent. Do I maybe know this guy...? He couldn’t really tell, as the delinquent was facing the other way.

The delinquent seemed... ‘stressed’, to put it one way. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but that was the impression he got from the delinquent’s body language.

Before he even realized it, his legs had already started moving on their own. Normally he would avoid getting involved with someone else’s business, but for some reason he could not explain, he was drawn to this delinquent as if they were connected by fate.

As he closed the distance between them, he briefly felt a strange resonance course through his body. It was like a vague pulsing of energy that stretched beyond the physical plane. For him this was a first, and it was a very freaky experience to have out of the blue... But this was our protagonists’ third time that day. This feeling... So I’m really not an ordinary person...

His heart fluttered.

Our protagonist suddenly swept back his hair, and it stayed in place thanks to a thin layer of sweat.

Not knowing what to expect, the middle schooler anxiously stopped on a dime. There was only about 2 meters of distance separating them now.

Their hearts were both racing faster than either of them thought possible. Each for their own reasons.

Every fiber of Tadano’s being was screaming in horror at what he was about to do. If only it were as simple as shaking some sense into his doppelganger, and telling him that this was wrong... That he was just a normal guy trying in vain to impress the wrong girl...

He would have loved nothing more than to keep it dead... This old cringey, forced persona of his... But somehow he knew that this was the only way...

There was no guarantee that his counterpart would listen to him—even under these absurd circumstances—if he behaved like an ‘ordinary person’...

Besides... To begin with, in what way was this situation ordinary? Ordinary people do not travel across the multiverse, do they...? His embarrassing past aside, he could hardly ignore the uniqueness of his and Komi’s situation any longer.

With this as his justification, he ‘released the seal’, so to speak... If he wanted to strike this accursed moment from his dark history, then he had to do... ‘that’...!

Tadano slowly got to his feet, and unzipped the black leather jacket he had received from his doppelgangster (heh) before slowly turning to face ‘himself’. My shirt doesn’t have a dragon on it, but this much has to be enough, right...?!

“Yo, Hitohito...” Tadano said with a grin steeped in false confidence.

“Y... Yo...” Tadano (C) replied reluctantly... But as one might expect, his reluctance soon turned to excitement.

He’s just like me! He’s just like me, for real!

Read the full chapter on AO3.

Read from chapter 1.

[kyndaris]

Mother Knows Best

For someone that plays video games as much as I do, you begin to pick up on a lot of common themes and tropes that are often used in the medium. What took me by surprise was facing Lilith in not one but two games in such quick succession. It's not often that I face the exact same antagonist. After all, both were demonic entities seeking the destruction of the world. Both were referred to as 'Mother' throughout the in-game dialogue and banter. And both had a connection to the playable character.

But while Lilith in Diablo IV gave birth to the Nephalem, the progenitor to humanity in the world of Sanctuary, she could only connect to the playable character due to a ritual involving her blood petals. Lilith in Marvel's Midnight Suns has a much more direct connection to the playable character, known only as The Hunter, as their birth mother. The other major difference here is that in Diablo IV, Lilith is trying to rule over Sanctuary while in Midnight Suns, Lilith serves as the agent of Chthon, a slumbering Elder God hoping to destroy the Earth and recreate it in its image.

Coincidences aside, Marvel's Midnight Suns was a game that I picked up in December last year and was one of the many tactical role-playing games I'd intended to get through before reaching the meat of the 2023 gaming experience. Alas, travelling and being bombarded left, right and centre with lengthy games distracted me from it until about 8 months later.

And when I finally booted up the game on my PlayStation 5, I found myself asking why I was indulging Firaxis's attempt to recreate what they had with XCOM but with a Marvel skin. What immediately struck me were the character models that I felt were less than stellar. Nor was I that impressed by the voice acting.

True, it was not like the game studio were going to bring back the actors of the MCU films to reprise their roles for the superheroes (or use their likeness), but I wanted something more than the somewhat janky character models that we received. In fact, I almost put down the controller, unsure if I wanted to continue with the game.

But persevere I did.

With time, I grew accustomed to the character models and the voice acting. After all, the cast is pretty stack with the likes of Yuri Lowenthal (reprising his role as Spider-Man from the Marvel's Spider-Man games), Erica Lindbeck, Courtney Taylor, Josh Keaton, Laura Bailey, Steve Blum, Darin de Paul and Matthew Mercer to name but a few.

Once I managed to get over that initial hump in the road, I started to enjoy the time I spent hanging out with a few of Earth's Mightiest Heroes and their more supernatural compatriots, the Midnight Suns.

Like many Firaxis games, Midnight Suns is a tactical/ strategy game. One that would have been better, in my personal opinion, as a handheld game. However, given that the playable characters are heroes with a multitude of abilities, Firaxis mixed up the traditional tactical/ strategy gameplay with the use of cards to denote special abilities and skills.

Gone were percentages detailing whether or not my character would hit the enemy. Gone, too, were Overwatch abilities that would allow my characters to attack an enemy as they dashed across the screen. Instead, Firaxis introduced a card deck system which was drawn up to a maximum of six at the end of each turn. Cards could comprise of attack, skill or heroic abilities. Many of them also included a variety of status effects to buff or debuff both allies or enemies, bringing with it another layer of strategy as most of these ended within a round of combat.

But the most important ones were those that refunded cardplay like the 'Quick' effect. Other cards allowed you to draw additional cards and these were important especially if you didn't have a good hand. Redraw too, was a resource that could be expended to power up abilities or to replace unwanted cards.

While it sounds complicated in theory, the gameplay of Midnight Suns was simple. You played three cards each turn (occasionally four) and tried to defeat the enemy as quickly as possible.

What was important to note was that while you were limited in the number of cards that could be played each round, your heroes could also deal damage via the environment. Unfortunately, to perhaps balance the use of environmental attacks, such actions were gated behind another resource: heroism (which were also used for heroic cards).

This meant that players had to carefully consider which cards to use when and where to maximise the damage on enemy Hydra agents and Lilin creatures and reach objectives for each mission.

Firaxis, though, are not content to simply sit on their strategy/tactical gameplay. Like many of their other games, Midnight Suns also included base management. Simpler than their incursions into the XCOM universe, Midnight Suns allowed players to research particular upgrades that could give their heroes an edge for their next battle against the forces of evil.

More importantly, though, Midnight Suns also allowed for team bonding. And as someone that wants to be friends with everyone, I spent many hours trying to boost my friendship levels with each and every hero that was recruited to the cause of stopping the rise of Chthon by giving them gifts or hanging out with them in an activity that they liked.

Heck, I was even looking up a Steam guide to know which dialogue options that each character preferred.

What was most unfortunate, though, was that there was no way to romance any of the superheroes. Why did Blade and Carol Danvers have to get together when I wanted both of them to myself as The Hunter?

Admittedly, I did think the romance between Caretaker and Agatha Harkness was great. The Hunter and their two mums. Who could ask for more except for some more lesbian representation in media please. True, some might argue that it did have a 'bury your gays' trope since Agatha is dead, but she comes back as a ghost and seems to be fine chilling around in the library. Something that Caretaker doesn't really take issue with after the Grey Seneschal ritual that binds Agatha a bit more to the land of the living (though still in spirit form).

Beyond that, I liked being able to explore the Abbey grounds and uncovering the secrets of the past, along with discovering new chests that could present me with another cosmetic for either The Hunter or the other heroes in my roster.

Still, what didn't make sense was that although the Abbey had a Forge and CENTRAL ops, a training yard and pool to lounge by, it had no kitchen or bathrooms. Given that Robbie Reyes had installed a TV to watch movies and play video games on, WHY WERE BASIC AMENITIES MISSING?

The fact that there was no kitchen also made it confusing when an upgrade to The Hunter's bedroom left a plate of bread and fruit on their bedside table.

Why? What? How?

From a plot standpoint, I felt like much of the conflict came from poor communication skills between Hunter, Sara (Caretaker) and your mother, Lilith. If Lilith could have explained her plan better, maybe she and the Hunter would have stood beside each other from the start instead of fighting against each other.

Caretaker, too, needed to learn to trust the wards under her charge instead of holding grudges.

But without these factors, of course, there would be no central conflict. Which, in turn, wouldn't have brought all of America's Mightiest Heroes (with the occasional Transian witch and Russian mutant) along for the journey. It wouldn't have allowed me to simply chat with these characters and watch them grow. Nor would it present me with an intriguing plot to drive me ever onwards to the end.

And that's another thing that I take issue with. The fact that a majority of Marvel's heroes are Caucasian. True, we have Robbie Reyes's Ghostrider, Eric Brooks and Nico Minoru showing off minority representation but almost all of the other heroes are blue-eyed Caucasians!

And they're all American. Or, at the very least, live in America. With most of the missions revolving around New York and the American South-West with only the final act in the fictional European country of Transia.

Now, this isn't an issue with the game, of course, but rather the state of affairs when it comes to superheroes in general. Yes, I know that there are heroes and villains from all over the world but the vast majority of them are Americans. Which, in all honesty, is likely to stem from the fact that a vast majority of comic book writers are American. And consequently, they write from an America-centric viewpoint.

But I've noticed that in many of the games I play, America also serves as the be-all and end-all for settings as well. Take Horizon: Zero Dawn and its sequel Horizon: Forbidden West. Or even The Last of Us, Grand Theft Auto, Fallout, Days Gone, Saints Row and a myriad of other games.

In any case, Marvel's Might Suns was an interesting take on a mishmash of genres that worked well with its superhero aesthetic. While I feel like it might have been better if they could increase the cardplay usage or the damage the heroes dealt for certain (we are talking about superheroes here, not foot soldiers), I enjoyed trying to figure out how best to place my heroes to deal with the enemies before me so I could put an end to Lilith's plans.

Soon, I'll tackle Fire Emblem: Engage. I promise. Just a few short games and it's the long haul for me.

I swear it won't be for too much longer!

And then I can tackle all the other triple-A video games that released in 2023...

[colorguardsweetheartblurrsgirl]

I over exaggerated my guess based on habits I have in general of life. I tend to do more then needed "Overachiever" even though I have engrained in me that " Less is more."

So I exaggerated my guess.

For me it depends on the art. If I have several characters, each will have several layers from the face (I like to seperate eyes and hair. Outline... skin. Shadow. Lighting. Base colors. Etc. Etc. Also seperate hair sahdjng from shading in the hands, face/neck, clothes, etc... because I'm the type that if I make a mistake I dont want to mess up other stuff. So I'll have these separated (something learned experience). Depending on background I may have two or more layers solely dedicated to the background alone. Or it may be as simple as two to five... again it depends on details. I treat layers like reading and writing sheet music seperate each instrument and part. Combine similar areas into folders as often the Mezzo and First Soprano's share a line in a Choir that's SSAA, STB, SSTB,etc. Being a what kids who grew up similarly through the stations in my area called "Radio Baby" in all, music is how I often look at many aspects of life. So it's how I categorize. It literally helps me shape my life.

Please NOTE:

The Valentines Post I'm working on.

(Will likely post after Valentine's cause, The day after is my Moms Birthday. Valentines has always been a family affair for me cause moms birthday was right after (literally was born several minutes after Valentines day... so we treet both days as if her birthday) usually we celebrated both days cause love him, but my dad irritably likes working on her actual birthday cause the day after Valentines jn any job whether marketing sales in radio or working security is ALWASY a happening day, and hes a go getter... so much as it irritates my mother we wet aside both days for her. I often have to be available for both that way my mom has Someone available on her birthday... So expect now and jn the future Valentines posts to come early or later due to this fact. (Also same in March I'm the exact same when it comes to Saint Patties Day my Birthday... its ironic all family members were born a few minut ees s after some holiday its hilarious).

Only just this late figured I'd get this message I intended earlier, out now

I mean they say Its better Late then Never.😂🤣😅😅😅😅 so yeah, my Valentines art I started on late in the game kinda came up and surprised me how close we were days before literally and started on it. So it may be a few days if I don't get it done tonight.

(which as you saw I didn't manage, actually it's kinda due to several updates for things on my device laptop... I hope to either finish or get a majority of the work done on it tonight. Hopefully last nights updates are the last for a while in a good way as of 2/18/23. I also admit I think Thirsday after updates were done I actually turned my focus on updating a few aspects of teh other long time story I've mentioned on here... didnt mean to work as long as I did that day on it. So that was a mix of computer being slow and me putting focus on a doc while it was being finicky loosing pimento it).

Considering the subject matter though...

🤔🤔🤔🤔

My Valwntines intended art post bring used for an example... Well this one will have a simple background.... ssssoooooooooo....

Give or take each character may have anywhere from 3 layers to ten depending.... hmm...I guess based on that I could be more likely between 15-50 (most likely more like 15-30). But It has a chance to go up to 75 or 100. It depends on details. But I'm confident it's under 50 layers.

[minecraftrelatedrandomness]

burn the night away: writer's annotations

The benefits of writing from p!Martyn's POV is that I have more flexibility to be anachronistic — I default Pirates to be set in the first half of the 19th century, but p!Martyn, being from our real-world time period, means that I can let the guys play custom Monopoly if I want to. As for remaking and customizing boards from scratch, I tried that when I was a kid using mostly paper, so it's not impossible.

I am also unfortunately unable to write from a p!Saus POV for any extended period of time (especially since my giftee seems to be a fan) — I've taken unprecedented amounts of psychic damage (re)watching his VODs, and I don't think there's any way I can replicate that in my own writing, at least in my current state of mind. I did try to make sure he had a major presence in the fic, though.

Speaking of, this is my first time posting from Martyn POV and my first time writing Kyle and Scar in general — I've written a fic draft on p!Martyn and p!Shelby a couple of months ago, but never finished and posted it.

Most things I've written about the characters and their experiences have some sort of canon or canon-adjacent basis — and yes, I did so much research for this. A few are admittedly headcanons due to a lack of information, and p!Scar's characterization is in part inspired by Hermitcraft Season 8 and the Life series, since both series are referenced in his POV. I'm leaving it ambiguous as to whether he is the same character throughout those series, though.

I genuinely have a spreadsheet listing 39 of the 40 "Never Have I Ever" prompts I'm using for this fic, along with who answered what and a tally counting who actually did win. Mind you, the statistics are slightly skewed by the fact that several of these people are lying their asses off a good chunk of the time.

Among them, I ended up having to change one of the prompts and rewrite a small section less than 12 hours before my deadline because I found out that every single character here (other than Jellie, for obvious reasons) has at least somewhat played a musical instrument in the series! Music is a foundational basis for p!Kyle's lore, p!Saus has his "(snake)skin flute" heirloom, Scar did so briefly during his 2nd stream, and everyone else played something on Oct 13th (SMP Day 76), mostly while in Cultist captivity.

The details about p!Scott's accessories are actually inspired by my own personal experiences. I have a bird necklace in real life (admittedly just a generic bird in flight) and thought I'd let my guy have an equivalent to that, as a treat. As for the badge, when I was in secondary school, I had a house badge that I used for all my six years there, and by the time I graduated, maybe a third of the coloration has been chipped off.

Like fic!Martyn, I considered whether I should have him lie about his brief engagement to r1!Water. If I had the chance, I would have had him give r1!Water's kingdom to be Isopteria — from Isoptera, the infraorder name for termites, but I don't think c!Martyn is knowledgeable enough in entomology or cares enough about it to make that reference (it's the biology student brain at work here, so forgive me).

The dumpling ban is actually a reference to a one-off line from the Oct 13th (SMP Day 76) VOD. It was a Heron base ban in an earlier draft, but I changed it after rewatching the VOD to make it a bit more canon-compliant. (As if the timeline isn't already non-compliant as it is, but it is my solemn archivist duty to stay true, alas.)

The full process of writing this fic has been harder than I expected, to say the least. I've had this idea for a couple of months before the event, but decided to put it aside. I took a couple of weeks off from working on it at all after the event started because of finals and then oopsie daisy, my family lost Wi-Fi for four days, so I couldn't even write and could barely VOD-watch during that time, since I could only access the Internet using my phone's data plan! Then I had to take another couple of days off to study for and take my TOEFL exam, and then I caught a stomach bug that I'm still recovering from as I post this (+ burnout on my final day)! In other words, the AO3 author's curse was out to get me, even after I got an extension. And that's discounting how I still don't quite know how to write shipfics on account of being inordinately aro/ace (that VS my perfectionism, fight!), as well as my computer buffering from the sheer number of tabs I have open!

Also, this fic was originally supposed to be like 1K or 2K words long… but it just kept getting longer and longer and now it's ended at nearly 5K.

I don't even know how I pulled all this off, especially since I haven't even watched all the VODs I wanted to watch for research, but here I am.

[freydprov]

Freyd Providence could not have wished for a more perfect start in life. He was born aboard the SS Caelestis; a diplomatic vessel which served as both mobile court and negotiation chamber, mediating conflicts between cultures and individuals on neutral ground. His father taught Xenobiology at the onboard university, while his mother worked as a translator, specialising in picking apart the nuances in communication the Universal couldn't handle.

For most ship born kids the boredom sets in quickly. The same corridors, the same food, the same people, cycle after cycle after cycle. But not on the Caelestis. A constant flow of guests, dignitaries and other visitors kept the place fresh, Freyd taking every opportunity he could to learn about their cultures and planets. He made friends quickly and, eventually, learned to accept their inevitable departure with just as much ease. 'People come, people go, and we drift forward.'

His childhood wasn't all play though. Earlier than he could remember, he had set his heart on the Ambassador training program - every class, every choice of extra curricular activity was selected to keep him on that path. And it was working. His grades were perfect. He aced every physical exam they could give him. Piloting came less naturally to him, but he still managed to gain his Light Shuttle Authorisation at 19, a whole year ahead of his target. Of course, some classes like CompTech and weapons training had to be pushed aside or outright dropped so he could focus on what really mattered. He did, however, agree to pick up a few engineering apprenticeship shifts to appease his mother.

Everything was going perfectly.

It wasn't immediately obvious something was going wrong. One night, while he slept he just...slipped away. Not physically of course but, mentally, he was somewhere else altogether. A man – pale grey skin, a crest of four green eyes in the centre of his forehead – glared at him, hissing instructions though sharp, gritted teeth. He couldn't speak the language and there was no Universal to translate for him but he understood every word as if he'd spoken it all his life. “Behave. Run away again and I'll make sure you--” Suddenly he was awake again, drenched in sweat, gasping, shaking in fear.

Just a dream. Stress. Taking on too much.

But, no matter how much rest he took, how much he lessened his workload, the dreams kept coming. Different people, different places, most of them quite pleasant overall, but something about them bothered him. Somewhere inside he knew what was happening wasn't normal.

He met the man from his dream two years after the first incident.

Freyd was part of the welcoming committee – one of his first real responsibilities. The visitor was CFO of a corporation, come with his team to hash out a deal with some deep space colony who wanted nothing to do with them. He was real. How could he be real? The details washed over him like water though, because all he could focus on was the pallid woman that stood at his side, smiling weakly as she was introduced to the gathered crowd. His daughter, come to sit in on negotiations to help train her for her future in the company. For a second, everything came into sharp focus. That dream was her reality. He didn't know how, but for those moments in that vision it was like they'd been one mind - both scared, both alone. All of the fear and the hatred and bile rushed back through him in an instant and it felt as if his mind was being torn in two, vision blurring and overlapping as he hit the floor.

He'd woken up in the med bay, trying his best to assuage the concerns of the staff and his parents, desperate to just get back to the meeting. No dice. Kept on rest and carefully monitored, he could only sink into regret and embarrassment and wonder if his chance to impress had come and gone.

The few months after were more normal, aside from his parent's constant hovering. The program's entrance exams were finally at hand and he couldn't let one mistake throw him off. He needed to focus.

He didn't remember the spacewalk. Well, not entirely. He remembered getting into the airlock, depressurising and stepping out onto the hull but after that? All he saw was a city; lights blooming on curling, organic streetlamps, small craft whizzing by above him, and the sounds of laughter and music drawing him into the spaces around him. His friends pulled him along, singing phrases of his favourite song he'd never heard, just one more bar then they promised they'd call it a night and--

Med bay again. Worse that time.

He'd been in a coma for three days. And none of them could understand what went wrong. One minute he had been with his team, taking a routine walk across the hull to fix a test module. The next? They'd seen him floating, totally unmoored, snapping his own tether. When the emergency shuttle team managed to retrieve him he was unresponsive, O2 tanks damaged, drained into the cold black. Thankfully though, not beyond help.

Another battery of tests followed as soon as he was strong enough. Physical, mental, anything anyone could think of he was put through to try and get to the bottom of it. After a week of poking and prodding he'd had enough. He just wanted it to be over. He told the counsellor the truth – the things he'd seen, felt. All the dreams. How they'd leaked into his waking world. He expected a look of pity – that she'd think he was crazy.

He didn't expect to catch the briefest moment of...horror? Fear? Not that he knew what she had to be scared of. It was his life that was over.

The speed at which his world fell apart was almost impressive. He was ushered into a room near the brig. Several Commanders of varying ranks poured in, hitting him with question after question. More scans and probes, less gentle than before. At some point they stopped asking and started yelling. At some point he'd started crying. At some point it was only him and the Vice Admiral.

“We're...so very sorry. I wish things were different but...” She'd folded her hands to try and hide the shaking. “You have to understand - an Emergent on our ship could compromise our entire mission. Our reputation is built on trust and if anyone were to find out--”

He barely knew what that meant. Emergents were something he'd read about briefly but hadn't gone into any detail. They were rare; some cultures held them up as prophets or leaders. Others less so. He'd just found out where his own people stood on the matter.

So that was it. Confined to the brig so he couldn't cause a scene. They'd do him the decency of dropping him off at the next Station with some personal belongings, enough supplies and cash to give him a decent start over. He couldn't say goodbye – not in person anyway. He'd simply recorded a message to his parents. Sorry for disappointing them. He wasn't cut out for life aboard the Caelestis. His ambitions had been a mistake and he needed to find his real path.

He wished he could say he left with some dignity, that he'd accepted his fate with grace, but he'd wailed and begged the whole shuttle ride over to Tristan Station. They had to tear him from the passenger compartment, marks from where his fingernails dug into the hard rubber of the seats one of the only reminders of his existence.

He didn't know exactly what happened after he left. He assumed his parents were told eventually, when they were too far away to do anything about it. Perhaps his records had been altered. Maybe they'd been happy to forget him altogether. He had no way of knowing.

Whatever the case, after three cycles of waiting in the shuttle bay, scanning each ship to find a trace of compassion or regret from his crew – his family – and coming up empty, he made a decision. Freyd picked himself up, brushed himself down and took a deep breath.

People come. People go. We drift forward.