#to all of my 40-ish followers

[meloncherrydonut]

How did I miss that my JJBA blog's birthday was on Jonathan's birthday?

Happy b(elated)-day!

[deadsetobsessions]

To the mf who had my house before me, if you see me on the street, turn around and run the other way. Because if I see you, know that it’s going to be on sight. Who even puts tile like that?? Anyways, I'm kind of sick, so that's why I've been kind of inactive.

But good news (ish) I got me a house! Yay! Let’s hope I can keep it. To celebrate, y’all can have this! And a few chapters! So technically this is a chapter update post?

——

Danny’s most favorite thing to do with Alfred Pennyworth is groundskeeping. While he might not be Sam, Danny could still appreciate the serenity and beauty of nature.

“Ow, fuck!”

“Master Danny, please refrain from using explicit language.”

“Sorry, Alfred. I got stabbed.”

“Oh dear. Will you be needing a bandage?”

“Nah, it’s okay. I think…” Danny hummed, peering closer at the reddish brown thorns sprouting from the ground. “That might be the rose bush?”

Alfred paused his snipping, turning around and coming closer to inspect the plant. “How peculiar. It seems to have grown a branch beneath the soil.”

In unison, Danny and Alfred lifted their heads to look at the rose bush, innocuously sitting three yards away.

“Huh. Weird.”

“Indeed.”

The door to one of Bruce Wayne’s many gardens, all opulently gothic to hide their vigilante disturbances, opened. The hinges swung without a single creak, as Alfred the butler always carried WD-40 on his person and a squeaky hinge in this mansion was an affront to his professionalism.

"Hey, guys! Whatcha doing?" Duke greeted, followed by Jason.

"Gardening! You wanna help?"

"Nah, I'm a Gothamite, not Poison Ivy, man. I don't do grass." Duke replied, plopping down on one of the lawn chairs with his drink. "But I can totally give you moral support... from over here."

Danny snorted. "What about you, Jason?"

Jason shrugged. "Sure, what are we doing?"

"There's a rose bush that grew all the way over here."

"Woah, crazy."

"Indeed, Master Jason. I shall go get the shovels."

"Okay, Alfie," Jason absently agreed, focused on finding where else the rose bush had grown to. "You wanna keep the bush, right?"

"That would be preferable."

"Duke, can't-" Jason paused, throwing a quick look at Danny before visibly changing tracks. "Can't you get us some drinks?"

"Kitchen's right over there, Jason." Duke pointedly leaned back and took a sip.

Danny piped up. "I'll get it! What did you want, Jason?"

----

Two hours later, covered in all manners of dirt and blades of grass, Jason and Danny sat back to survey the messed up garden.

"You sure we can't hire Ivy to move the plant somewhere?"

"She'd just make it worse," Jason grumbled.

"You guys can do it!" Duke cheered, scrolling through his phone and cherry picking the most hilarious pictures of Jason and Danny to send to the group chat. He chose the selfie, where he was grinning into the camera as Jason fell on his ass as Danny pulled up a long section of thorns.

Duke gets nailed in the face with two clumps of grass from his disgruntled brothers.

"I believe it is time for a shower." Alfred Pennyworth smiled, content. Days like these made him glad that his grandchildren found their way back.

[the-borgias]

hi sole! your sharpening is always so soft and pretty, i was wondering if you would be open to share it? hope you are having a wonderful november so far <3

Hi, Anon! Thank you so much <3 Yeah, sure, tutorial under the cut:

What you'll need:

Photoshop (I use Photoshop 2023)

Basic knowledge on how to make gifs

Camera Raw filter installed

Okay so, first of all, I use two different methods depending on the size of the gif. Let's start with the one I use for most of my gifsets which are big gifs (examples: x x x x.)

METHOD #1: Smart Sharpen + Camera Raw

I started using the Camera Raw filter last year and let me tell you, I'm obsessed! It completely changes the game of sharpening. I use this method for all gifs with a 540px width.

We're going to work on timeline so get your gif ready and convert it for smart filters. I'm using this scene from my last set as a base:

Here's the gif after I color it (I usually sharpen my gifs before I color them but for the sake of the tutorial I'm showing you this so you guys can see the difference):

(1) Smart Sharpen Layer: Let's start by adding a Smart Sharpen layer (Filter > Sharpen > Smart Sharpen) with these settings:

Disclaimer: I didn't come up with these settings myself I got them from these sharpening actions forever ago so I don't know which one it is :/. I also wasn't able to find that person's new blog (if they even have one since they've been inactive since 2021) so if anyone knows please let me know and I'll give them proper credit!

Now we're going to go to the 'Layers' panel and click on this little thingy:

This window will pop up and we are going to change the Opacity to 50%.

(2) Camera Raw Filter: Here's where the fun begins. Go to Filter and click on Camera Raw Filter (you'll need to have the plugin installed for it to show up.) I don't know how the Camera Raw window will look like the first time you open it but good thing you only need to change a couple of things!

If it isn't opened yet click on 'Effects' and we're going to change the Texture and Clarity:

Depending on the scene/show/film I'm giffing, or if I want a stronger or softer sharpening, I'll use two different settings, but 99% of the time they are these:

First setting: Texture (+20) Clarity (+10)

Second setting: Texture (+40) Clarity (+20)

As you can see the difference isn't huge but the first setting gives a "softer" look. As I said I'll use one or the other depending on how I see the scene (it's almost always about the vibes yk.)

Feel free to experiment with these two and see what works best for you (although I wouldn't go higher than 40 on texture because the sharpening will look too fake imo.)

Also this filter is soooo good at making low quality videos look 1080p! Every time I've had to use 720p videos the Camera Raw filter has saved me 🫡

METHOD #2: Smart Sharpen

I use this method for smaller gifs. For example, 8 gifs of 268px x 180px sets (like these) or small-ish gifs in complex sets (like the second gifs in this set.)

This process is much simpler since it's the one I explained before but without adding the Camera Raw filter. That's it that's the method. Just a Smart Sharpen layer with the Opacity turned down to 50%.

As I said this method looks best on smaller gifs but to be honest it looks good on big gifs too? Depends on what you like most!

Anyway I hope this was easy to follow and if anyone has any questions please feel free to dm me or send an ask! ♡

[syndrossi]

Call for Winter prompts!

It's Dec 2, so let's get the prompt-a-thon rolling! Feel free to re-prompt anything from the Halloween set of prompts that you really wanted to see but that I didn't end up writing, or something entirely new! Winter-themed is encouraged but by no means required, and the only limit to how many prompts you can chuck at me is your imagination.

At some unspecified cadence, I'll pick a prompt that tickles my fancy, write a little ficlet for it (I thought they'd be 300ish words apiece last time, but they pretty much were all in the 800-3K range 😂), and post it here on Tumblr.

Any and all stories/AUs (or AUs of AUs) are fair game, with the caveat that I probably won't fill anything that is likely to come up in Resonant itself in the next 100K-ish words. But for Resonant, things like alternate POVs/what-ifs/side-stories/etc are all fair game. Maybe this will be the prompt-a-thon where I finally write Rhaegar POV???

Running list of prompts thus far, organized by story source, below.

Total: 120

Any/Other AUs (20):

King Daemon in any capacity

AU where Daemon shows up just in time to save Rhaegar at the Battle of the Trident

A scene from Aemon and Baelon's childhood or them getting to meet Resonant Daemon’s sons in a dream

Daemon & Rhea bickering [Reverbrate, Remorse]

AU where Rhaegar got summerhalled at 19 and Jon at 14

Daemon dealing with Aerys

Canon Rhaegar's POV of Daemon's "ghost." Either during his last battle or in front of Aegon's cradle where Rhaegar first mistakes him for Aerys too

Hot springs at Runestone's winter keep [Regnal, Reverberate]

The AU where Corlys discovers chocolate and brings it to Westeros and hot cocoa becomes a Thing.

AU where Ser Willam realizes the toddlers he's escorting to the Gates of the Moon are not, in fact, Redforts. The scene where he realizes it or the scene where he informs/finds Daemon.

A scene from the heartbreaking AU where Jon and Rhaegar wake up in Volantis with chained dragons and a kidnapped, traumatized baby brother.

AU in which Jon and Rhaegar are reborn older than eight and end up claiming Vermithor and Silverwing! (Or get claimed by Vermithor and Silverwing, who knows.)

AU in which Jon and Rhaegar are reborn at four or five and Daemon gets to find them sooner and enjoy having younger children like he dreams of. (Or even younger, wherein he finds them and they are both brunette, only for Rhaegar's hair dye to start washing out after a while.)

AU where Rhea dies early on and Daemon meets/recognizes his kids when he and the Redfort siblings go to Runestone to see about inheritance things.

Something involving Royce runic magic

Jon is a girl, Rhaegar is a boy. Otto POV of when they're 11-12 and discussions are happening of their potential betrothals. Maybe a reaction to Jon's reaction to the suggestion that she wed Rhaegar.

AU where Resonant Daemon & Jon & Rhaegar & their dragons appear in the OG/book timeline after the Dance of the Dragons. The twins could help little Viserys in Volantis while Daemon appears in King’s Landing to comfort and assist Aegon III.

Regnal or Restoration or Aemon’s Sons AU: Jon being cranky that he has to be king someday. Bonus points for Rhaegar being smug that he DOESN’T have to be king. Bonus BONUS points for Jon ensuring Rhaegar knows he's just as screwed as Jon's future Hand and has nothing to be smug about.

POV of Rhaegar finding out Jon is his son in any AU

The twins' first teething & baby bath times

Resonant (40):

Rhaegar POV of waking up in the Gates of the Moon in ch1

Rhaegar POV after ch5 when he learns that Jon's an actual hero

Rhaegar POV when Jon gave him the bracelet in ch7

Rhaegar POV after meeting Daemon in ch13

Rhaegar POV the following night after meeting Daemon in ch14

Rhaegar POV in ch31

Rhaegar POV in ch32

Ser Willam's POV/thoughts on anything at all

Daemon overhearing the twins talking about their other life

Watercooler discussion of Daemon's prodigy children

Yule/winter traditions, both southern and northern. Jon being exposed to the weird shit they do in the south, and introducing Daemon and Rhaegar to the plethora of traditions/skills cultivated in the north, even though he's definitely not from there, nope!

Rhaegar goes Christmas caroling. Alternatively, he finds a baby Daeron and/or Helaena and/or other children and sings 'The Song of the Seven' as a nursery rhyme. Alicent hears him and is overwhelmed by this beautiful pious boy sent by the Gods, in need of her motherly love.

Rhaenyra finds out Daemon named Rhaegar after her, awwwwww. (Daemon panics and asks Rhaegar to lie for him.)

Jon and Rhaegar having to fend off one of their father's braver stalkers. Alternatively, that comedic gold bit where an artist in the Red Keep is drawing romance novel covers of Daemon posing dramatically as he rips open his shirt atop a dragon... ravishing young ladies who giggle and clutch their expensive art to their chests.

Future(ish) conversation where Daemon has to explain the 🐦🐦🐦 and the 🐝🐝🐝 to his children, and possibly to Viserys' children for extra lolz.

Older!Jon getting cornered by a little lady who'd love to be the future Lady of Runestone, and Rhaegar being aghast at his amazing, brave, older, heroic, SAVED THE WORLD, brother's ineptitude when it comes to girls. (Extra bonus: Daemon is both amused and also aghast himself, this is clearly a dangerous situation.)

Jon walking into a wall the first time he sees Laena because she's just so pretty.

Adorable fluff in which Helaena has a crush on one of (or both of) the twins. Alternatively: betrothal discussions/thoughts by the adults!

AU where Daemon marries Laena and promptly has another set of twins for Jon and Rhaegar to coo over.

AU where Arthur Dayne's loyalty to Rhaegar is so intense he figures out a way to summerhall himself after the kid. Potentially shows up just in time to join the applicants for the Princesguard! Potentially annoys the shit out of Criston Cole!

AU where Jon is still Jon but Rhaegar is Rhaella, and they get to have a fun misunderstanding about marital expectations, i.e., Rhaella fully expects to marry Jon, Jon chokes on his drink at this information.

Jeyne's POV when she first learns WTF Rhea has apparently been up to and the shitstorm coming her way in the form of a pissed off royal family.

Jon, unable to resist his inner child, sneaks a puppy into Daemon's chambers. He and Rhaegar do their very best to keep the little guy hidden, and Daemon is SUSPICIOUS of their suspicious behavior.

Rhaegar and/or Jon (or both!) having a nightmare (or pretending to) and then pretending (for whatever reason) to need dad!hugs immediately, thus running to him in the middle of the night as teary-eyed, scared eight-year-olds. (Bonus points if they alarm whoever is on guard duty at the time.)

Arryk and/or Erryk getting to have a heroic moment wherein they save Jon and/or Rhaegar from a bad guy!

A highly-stressed Rhaegar has a hair-related disaster and starts crying (may or may not actually be related to the hair disaster) and Jon panics because his brother is crying and he is ALSO highly-stressed and starts crying (being eight and having no control over your emotions is rough), and their on-duty guard panics and sends for Daemon because THE PRINCES ARE CRYING.

That scene where Jon and Rhaegar are talking about Dany and Daemon assumes the worst and gets to be traumatized by his own imagination.

JON GETTING A CANDLE VISION. Of Lyanna dying because of him? Or of Rhaegar, only *his* universe's Rhaegar, the one who actually fathered him, telling him he's a disappointment? Of Catelyn, berating him? Of Ned, telling the other Stark children he loves them the most? Trauma! Trauma for you! Trama for them! Trauma for everyone!

"Somebody" "accidentally" sets the curtains in Daemon's rooms on fire.

Future!Jon and future!Rhaegar's first time flying on Shadow and Qelebrys.

Another scene where Jon and Rhaegar get to play with Jace and Luke. Maybe with the wooden ships Daemon got Jon? Maybe Jace/Luke/Joffrey get to come over for dinner after being stuck with their nurse for so long?

Outsider!POV of the royal court discovering the existence of the twins and the breathtaking Royce-Redfort treason.

POV of Rhaenyra and what she might be up to and/or POV of Rhaenys and what SHE'S currently up to.

Scene where Aegon sneaks out to go claim a dragon, Jon (and Rhaegar?) sees him and follows because, uh, kids should always follow other kids into danger rather than go tell an adult. It's the first rule of all kid!adventure movies.

Daemon finding out Rhaegar can play the harp REALLY FUCKING WELL.

Daemon and/or Rhaegar gifting Jon a white puppy.

Part two of the Ghost+snowstorm ficlet!

Alicent witnessing Jon being sweet to Helaena (maybe after Aegon and/or Aemond were being not-so-sweet to her for contrast) and making up her mind that Jon is just as good a boy as Rhaegar.

The twins starting a snowball fight with the other kids. Jon has an unfair advantage that only Rhaegar knows about.

Daemon’s reaction/thoughts of finding out they dyed Rhaegar’s hair when he was a baby.

Regnal AU (9):

Twins demonstrating fireproofness and Daemon being made heir

Jaehaerys meeting the twins and/or hatchlings

Vermithor & Silverwing meeting twins and/or hatchlings

Rhea confronts Jaehaerys and realizes that her husband is still very sweet and accommodating

Alysanne's encounter with the twins

Regnal!AU scene wherein someone stupid tries to kidnap the twins when they are still babies! (Potential heroic saviors: Daemon, Baelon, Rhea, Willam. I love them all but I'm partial to Rhea being kickass and murdering some monster who tried kidnapping her child, tbh.)

Alysanne sticks her foot in her mouth when meeting the babies by saying something like, "Pity the older one was born with his mother's hair," in front of Daemon and/or Baelon and/or Rhea.

The twins being presented to Jaehaerys at court or a scene after that where they're interacting with him on a more grandfatherly sort of level.

Saera trying to seduce Baelon when she visits Runestone on her "diplomatic" mission.

Reverberate AU (7):

The rest of the family meeting the twins when they're finally brought to KL

The twins get sick and Daemon is panicking

The twins and Damon get Rhea into a snowball fight and then they all warm up under a blanket together

The twins' POV after turning one

Rhea's POV/realization that her husband isn't the monster Otto described him to be and her surprise at how involved a father Daemon is.

After a few years, Rhea falls pregnant. She's excited to finally carry her own child after being resigned to never having kids of her body, but also super worried about being an older mom and that the maester will know this is her first pregnancy. Bonus points if they're twins as well!

A mountain of treasure arrives in Runestone. Rhea is shocked, and Daemon just shrugs, all "ah, it's my share from defeating the pirates and + Corlys' thanks."

Restoration AU (19):

Snowball fight

One of the Starklings stumbles across the twins' dragons

Daemon and his pokemon collection of Targaryen children/teens make war upon Robert Baratheon

Twins playing hide and seak with their new siblings in Winterfell

Maester Aemon meeting the twins and/or hatchlings

Rhaegar's POV on the events of the last chapter

POV Daemon I or POV Catelyn I

[Crack] What if Aemon+Baelon+Jaehaerys make a sudden appearance as well and see this shitty state of a future and also meet Daemon's sons and now son-grandson

Pre!time travel Restoration AU when they're in Winterfell with Cregan's family. Jon being wistful about Winterfell? Qelebrys and Shadow playing in the snow? Rhaegar falling head-over-heels with Cregan at first sight, as one does? Daemon becoming very alarmed when the Starks try to serve rhubarb pie at dinner? Boiling hot springs and weird-ass Targaryens who dive right in anyway? Cregan "introducing" snow-related winter games and Northern traditions to Jon who has to try very hard to pretend this is all brand new information for him?

Any time in Restoration AU or Winterfell where they get to watch the Northern lights.

First night after arriving, somehow all the Stark kids end up (minus maybe Rickon) sneaking in to meet their new brothers, including Sansa (she doesn't know how it happened either, but it's clearly Arya's fault).

Rhaegar beating Jon up with a sword on the training grounds (when all Ser Rodrick asked for was a demonstration to evaluate their skill level, sob) because his brother is a no good secret-keeping LYING LIAR FACE who is also apparently his SON and a LIAR and ARGH.

Tyrells scheming to make Margaery the future queen!

Velaryons being SO HAPPY to join up with Targaryens again, sob, they don't even need the dragon as incentive.

Daemon meeting Oberyn

Viserys' hubris getting him charbroiled and eaten by a dragon

Daemon kidnapping Maester Aemon from the Wall (his pokemon tendencies aren't restricted to children)

Anything with Old Nan. Ex: her giving vague, sage advice to Ned because she somehow knows that none of the boys are his bastards.

Daemon hearing about how Catelyn treated Jon in Winterfell and seething about it. Halfway on Caraxes to burn the Riverlands until the boys calm him down.

Reversal AU (3):

Rhaenyra braiding the girls' hair (finally girls in this realm of boys!)

Some funny scene with teenage Aegon/Aemond/fJon/fRhaegar and teenage hormones

Daemon's POV of finding out he has hidden twin daughters and/or his POV of when he rescues them/soon after he rescues them.

Rescue AU (1):

Just update it, Syn!

Veteran!Jon AU (7):

Vet!Jon wakes up in Volantis and books it for Westeros

Vet!Jon reads Viserys the riot act

Twins POV of Vet!Jon swooping in to save them

Stepstone soldier's POV of Vet!Jon swooping in with his baby brothers

Veteran!Jon AU Wedding: Jon & Laena get married

Veteran!Jon shows up in the Stepstone but his birth wasn't a secret and he was taken when he was a few months old. Daemon POV of his previously-thought-dead son appearing with his secret twins.

Vet!Jon utterly destroys Cole in a spar. Possibly snowballs are involved.

Twins-as-Aemon's-sons AU (9): (the twins are Aemon and Jocelyn's sons, and roughly the same age as Daemon)

Jocelyn being surprise!pregnant, Jocelyn and Alyssa being pregnant at the same time, Aemon and Baelon commiserating over Jocelyn and Alyssa being pregnant at the same time...

Corlys trying to impress his hopefully-future-wife's little brothers

Jon being proclaimed heir

Jon/Rhaegar/Daemon all playing together as little kids

Jon and Daemon dragging their brothers out to practice swords when all they want to do is sit around and read boring old books, ugh

A young Aemma arriving at the keep as a potential bride for Jon

The more depressing version where Jon and Rhaegar are born extra late and Jon becomes King at a very young age

Corlys having to win Rhaenys's hand from a reluctant Jaehaerys by discovering chocolate/cocoa

Variation where Resonant!Daemon wakes up when the twins are born, which is instead just before Aemon is due to die at Tarth. Him being the best older cousin, protecting them, warning (unheeded) that Volantis might be after them...

Dany (5):

Dany is born as their little sister in Regnal or Reverberate, reaction to another prophecy baby

Dany is a triplet with the twins in Resonant

Dany wakes up as Nettles

Restoration Daemon saving Dany from being sold

Restoration Daemon arrives a bit later and meets Dany in Essos and helps her with her unruly dragons, maybe some singing is involved!

[dreemurr-skelememer]

Hello :D

I have been following you for the last year or so (a few days after I got my Tumblr lmao) and I absolutely love your art!

I have been wanting to study your art style for a while but don't really know where to start,,,

Could you please show me a small portion of your art process, if it isn't too much trouble of course. Thank you and have a nice day!

hello. oh my god. this took forever to find.

im sorry it took 2 WHOLE FUCKING MONTHS for me to respond to this but i wanted to put it off until i felt happy with my art process again, so here it is

my fall 2024 rendering tutorial!

(this will be very very long)

FLATS AND WHATEVER YOU WANNA DO WITH LINES GIRL. then make sure to recolor the lineart to better match your base. trust me it helps, bold dark lines are Not your best friend when rendering. wait for that post-rendering

i start off with a doodle or a sketch, and then filling it in with flats and other details such as blush

FIGURE OUT YOUR LIGHT SOURCE. FIGURE IT OUT GIRL YOU CAN DO IT you can make it as simple as possible, make it as big as possible, dont even THINK about the details.........just make it really fucking big so you at least know where the shadows and the light goes THEN add smaller shading details LISTEN TO ME. LISTEN TO ME OKAY!!!!!!!!

my key point with this is for you to learn lighting fundamentals.

it's SOOO ANNOYING but alas......they are all correct. it helps a lot.

one thing i also really want to point out is that i like creating a big shadow shape first before fixing up the little details (such as folds and whatever) because it helps me focus on the way the lighting actually works instead of tunnel vision-ing into making the shading make sense on the clothing.

contact shadows (i dont remember if thats what theyre called okay) theyre fucking ugly because im not actually thinking sorry ��

okay so basically:

contact shadows (if that's what they're called) are the spots in shading and lighting where light will NEVER hit.

shadows are still influenced by the colors and lights around it (it's why a blue shadow and a yellow shadow feel completely different, despite both being shadows) so it's not always COMPLETELY dark.

BUT! there are small points in shadows where light never hits, and they're almost always super dark or pitch black.

it's hard to explain shadow and light so briefly for a tutorial, but you'll notice it when watching fundamental studies and when trying it out for yourself

YES i unclipped the multiply layer YES its ugly and terrifying but it makes coloring the multiply layer easier okay the colors merged w multiply so now it looks cool and has depth overlaying colors that actually make sense

so basically what i did was color the multiply layer that i used to shade the overall drawing

adding a band of red/orange/yellow around where the light hits, and blue where the shadows get big and wide, gives it a fake ambient occlusion effect in the way that a person would get if they stood under the sun with a clear blue sky

the colors don't have to make sense, especially because i never draw backgrounds, but coloring the shadows really help it give a sense of depth and extra subtle detail and effect that just helps make the painting look nicer

around the end, i also put in colors (in an overlay layer with a low opacity brush) that actually make sense in context of the drawing, which is the lit cigarette and the yellow eyelights

mostly because none of the colors were making sense and i needed to actually make use of the lighting that DOES exist in the drawing lol

adding a muddy golden yellow pin light layer (opacity turned down to like 40-50%) to make the light colors less ugly lol

i SWEAR by the fucking pin light layer style. it's so useful and so so underrated.

i used an almost brown-ish gold color on stop of all the layers, and with the pin light layer, it helped make the bright (almost blue-ish) white colors more warm and more yellow. it just helps make things more warm (something i prefer)

i could probably show what it looks like without adjusting the layer opacity to truly show off what i mean (like in the coming section) but i sadly forgot to do that lol

make a layer on top of your drawing with this color in these ranges YES the drawing is fully merged NO don't be afraid, the base was fucking ugly anyway 💔 make this layer into an exclude/exclusion layer style TRUST turn down your exclusion layer opacity from a range of 10% to 40% literally until you're happy with the contrast and the way the color over the drawing. use your eyeballs. i know you can do it im so proud of you

this is pretty self-explanatory instruction-wise, so i'll go into why i do this instead

i really like art that seems like it has low contrast, with almost mid-gray shading and lines. i don't personally use dark and bold lines and shading, unless i find it necessary for the tone of the piece, so using this method helps lower the contrast of the art and make it look "pleasantly muddy" in the way that it's easier and softer on the eyes.

the inverted blue color also helps makes things warmer!

the exclusion layer style is still a bit of a mystery to me but i really like the effect it gives, even if i don't completely get how it works lol

if you want an alternative method to this, and if you have access to it (because i primarily use sai and sai only),

i absolutely encourage you to play around and experiment with gradient maps.

there are so many out there you can make yourself or even get from others that just give the painting an extra amount of depth and color variation. they're SO fun.

personally, if sai2 gets a gradient map update, it's over for y'all it will literally be so over no one will be able to stop me

then i merged everything and actually adjusted the contrast back up because it was looking too muddy for me 💔 but the color adjustments are still there so all hope is not lost here's a comparison of the adjusted contrast in black and white (adjusted on the left) (newly merged layer without adjusting the contrast on the right)

as you can see, i actually turned the contrast back up (despite talking all about how i liked things with less contrast lol)

i wanted to demonstrate that doing adjustments should be done in moderation, and is why i adjust layer opacity often when making color effects

you are free to play around with colors to help your style, but don't lose your initial idea and colors along the way.

you still need to trust your own colors and intuition!

along with that, i just want to say that it's completely okay to change your mind mid-painting, and it's okay to make somewhat drastic changes.

don't be afraid to change things you don't like or change your mind about certain aspects way later on

that's basically the whole thing of this!!! don't be scared!!!

now im gonna hold your hand when i say this..........but you need to learn how to render by yourself. it seems like i can teach you but i literally can't, because rendering is different on every piece and depending on how clean your base is. i have to render A LOT because of how fucking ugly my sketches are LMAO to simplify it, think of it as obsessively cleaning up every detail you can see, but with a color picker and a clean, hard edged brush. if you have shit lineart, you don't have to redraw it cleanly over and over, just paint over it. that's basically what rendering is

THIS especially is where you need to be brave and stop being scared.

like i said, i can't teach you how to render, and it's something you have to discover yourself because rendering is something that will always be personal to every single piece you make. the way you render on every piece is different.

on one piece, you will barely need to render, and on another, rendering is more than half of your ENTIRE process.

don't be afraid to paint over your old art.

rendering is a process that's both very perfectionist yet also very careless.

find your balance and just go for it.

and then that's it……..u did it………..now yuo know how to paint and render. it's literally just layering shading and lighting knowledge until you think it makes sense and looks okay lol additional note: since i render in only one layer (you don't HAVE to do this, but it'll be harder for you…), i also made slight adjustments with the transform (and liquify, if you have it) tool to make things more proportionate. (i drew the head too big lol)

if you compare the finished piece to the final unrendered base, you can see that a LOT changed, including a bit of subtle proportion adjustment.

particularly, the sleeves changed A LOT (because i really didn't like them)

but it's also over all cleaner and more coherent, instead of having haphazard colors and shading just thrown about.

rendering is when you finally use all 100% of your brain to finalize and figure out where the shading should go, where to clean up your lines, where to ERASE or ADD BACK in lines, and make sure all your colors look coherent.

it's not as intimidating as it seems, i only use a hard edged brush with a little bit of color mixing and my color picker.

it's like dragging and dropping colors to cover up mistakes, it's really quite fun when you get used to it

i wish i could explain it clearer but it's hard to describe without visuals!

i hope this helped, and i hope all my yapping isn't annoying (art as a special interest beloved)

have fun studying and trying to render in my art style!

[catholic-character-tournament]

Round 1 - Side B

firestar art by @kudos-si-do

Propaganda below ⬇️

Kirei

He fucked up so many people's lives so badly in just one decade (not on purpose) that the universe put him in the summoning pool of all world influencing souls. He doesnt really have any special powers but he does serve as a vessel for rasputin at one point. He's the guy who says "people die when they are killed"

please please please there's literally a type moon character in the gif on the top of this form so it's typemoonphobic if none of them get in but it shouldn't be her it should be kirei bc he's 50x funnier & more iconic than jeanne. funny lil murder priest who's fucking THE gilgamesh (from the epic of) in the church basement and dies in a knife fight w a 17 year old whose dad he wanted to fuck back in '94 before realizing that he was actually kinda lame and he's been bitter abt it ever since. he has an orphan torture factory in his basement but he's also canonically good at being a priest. he's so funny you should def try his mapo tofu i swear it's totally safe for human consumption and not made with any california reapers. did i mention he's a deadbeat dad.

Priest claims to be Pro Life to make Sakura Matou the most miserable girl on the planet, but he dies anyway.

bro became a catholic because he loves suffering

He’s a priest. Kind of. Not a very good priest obviously. There is something seriously wrong and fucked up with that man. It’s so entertaining.

he's gotta be one of the most insane catholic men ever with a very in-depth and interesting relationship with his religion and his relationship with god also he's the sexiest man ever to be conceptualized in the known universe and all of time

Will never forget the 40+ minute monologue in heavens feel being a thinly veiled metaphor for abortion

he wants to torment churchgoers and make them face their failures and suffering but all he ends up doing is motivate them to improve themselves. cringefail moment for him

he's absolutely insane. the coldhearted mercenary that barely reacts to anything is terrified of kirei. he's super fucked up. his ult in stay night is literally him channeling divine power into something called kyrie eleison. he's the vessel of rasputin (on account of being a priest with a huge....no i shant say) the biblical beast in grand order among other things. he gets drunk with and tops gilgamesh from the epic of gilgamesh in the church basement after gilgamesh from the epic of gilgamesh bats his eyes a little too hard at kirei in some of the horniest shot scenes ive ever seen. he also used to be a heretical "fixer" for the church, cleaning up scenes that would expose shit to the public. uhh what else. he holds cool swords between his fingers like a kid pretending to be wolverine but in my favorite route he just squares the hell up with the protagonist and they fight to the death outside planned parenthood

Firestar

Kitty jesus, he believes in starclan which is the kitty version of heaven/god and yea. All the warrior cats characters except those outside the clans or those that are atheist believe in the kitty heaven and would irl be bri-ish and christian as hell so. The authors are all older british christian women and so the way starclan is written is like undoubtedly that.

The main religion in the series is extremely catholic coded. Most clan cats believe in Starclan and the Dark Forest(or heaven and hell). There is a set of rule they must uphold and follow, where following them leads to heaven and breaking them leads to hell. Their religious leaders are sworn to celibacy, and the punishments that "code breakers"(or cats who break the rules) face are extremely similar to situations people with religious trauma have gone through.

OP notes: apparently converted to avoid getting his balls cut?? Idk. The discord yet wild for firestar so I had to include him because it's hilarious hehehe

[carolmunson]

come get me, come love me (older!modern!eddie)

part four of who knows how many. orange colored sky set list surprise chapter, bitches. after we got rained out at the park, we finish our date at eddie's apartment in prospect heights, things heat up despite the storm. inspired by @loveshotzz older steve series: all i really want is you (see if you can spot the easter egg in this lil chapter.) tw: age gappy (reader is late 20s/early 30s, eddie is late 30s/early 40s), kissin', reader wears eddie's clothes but there's no body description songspiration: lovesick | banks

The door to the building is wedged between a restaurant and a pet store on a long street of bars and places to eat. You’ve been down here plenty of times, the ramen spot closer to the end of the street is to die for, and one of the ice cream shops is the best in this part of the city. He unhooks the carabiner from his belt loop and hurries the key into the heavy iron grate door before bumbling into the wooden one behind it.

“Whew!” he says when you both get inside, wiping some of the rain from his face. He leads you up the stairs to the second floor and down the small hallways. “Both doors are mine, but this is the front door,” he smiles, kicking his shoes off at the mat off to the side. You do the same. “Sorry if it’s a little messy,” he says, keys jingling in his hands while he opens the door, “Maid took the week off.”

You snort when you follow him inside but he looks at you over his shoulder, “No, seriously. It was her son’s birthday on Sunday so I told her not to come in. I try to keep it together for the most part, but – I don’t know, Sasha gives it a special somethin’ I’ve never been able to do on my own.” 

It’s a little stunning, his apartment. And when you think a little you mean a lot, a floor and a half with a metal spiral staircase that separates the open concept kitchen from the living room, dining room hybrid on the wall closest to the door. Oak floors that look newly shined, a big and deep sectional closing off the space so a dining room table and chairs could be placed on the other half of the room. Even the exposed brick on the back wall looks like it was just put in. His hand rests on your back while he guides you up to the next floor, the metal cold on your bare feet, shivering against the coolness of the central air whooshing through the place.

“If you want I can give you something comfy to wear and throw your stuff in the laundry,” he says when you make it to the top, opening the door, “Bathroom is just around the corner.”

“You have in-unit laundry?” you ask with a breathy sigh.

“I know, I’m so dreamy,” he winks, “You gonna take me up on my offer? There’s towels in there already.”

“Sure,” you take off the linen shirt and pass it to him, “I’ll be right out.” 

The bathroom is small-ish but well put together, it looks like he had it gutted and redone to be more modern, navy blue marbled tiles in the shower with gunmetal hardware – he has an eye, you figure. You open one of the cabinets to see dark blue towels folded and fluffy, waiting for you. The image that meets you in the mirror makes you frown when you wipe your face off – a wet rat with mascara running down her cheeks, blush and lipgloss long faded. You sigh and do your best to wash off your face with what you can, peeling off your wet layers and keeping them on the counter.

“Wanna swap?” he asks while knocking on the door. You ball up your wet clothes, holding the towel up against your chest while you open the door a sliver, easing them out into his waiting hand. You can’t see him but you hear his little snicker while he pushes the dry clothes into your open palm. “You got it?” he asks. “I got it,” you say, balancing them into the room and shutting the door quietly. “Let me know if you want something different,” he offers. You shake out the folded clothes, big black sweatpants and an old, soft band tee. Corroded Coffin spelled out in jagged letters on the front with a marionette dangling from a demonic clawed hand on the back. “This is fine,” you say, slipping them on, “What band is this?”  “It’s mine,” he says. You can hear his footsteps walking away from the bathroom while he talks, “Told you I was a rockstar!” 

When you’re fully changed into his sweats and shirt you emerge from the bathroom, padding out of the tiles in socked feet. You can hear him downstairs putting the leftover snacks into the fridge and freezer from the cooler. Like the sleuth you are, you take in what you can to learn more about him, inching down the short hallway and peeking into one of the rooms. His bedroom looks like a bachelor’s – not in the way a guy in their twenties would have it, but it’s clear he wants to semi impress whoever he’s taking home. You admire the coziness of the space: wrought iron bed frame – likely a vintage thrift find or thousands of dollars. Dark bedding with knit blankets at the foot of the mattress, a dark green rug under the bed atop the oak floors. His walls are littered with framed photos of him with people you don’t know. Show posters under glass from the 90s, some vintage posters from the 70s. It smells like cedar and a nice hotel lobby candle, manly and unassuming. His dressers are a deep walnut wood that compliment the floors with ease – he did say he had an eye for color. Your eyes wander, looking towards the doors of a walk in closet, more art on the walls. A beautiful baroque style mirror that looks straight out of a gothic mansion leaning heavy in the corner. However, you feel heat rush to your cheeks when, slightly hidden, you see two sets of handcuffs dangling off a small hook by one of his bedside tables. 

“Find anything interesting, Nancy Drew?” 

His low rumble makes you jump, turning to see him leaning against the wall of the hallway with his arms crossed. You breathe out a nervous giggle, “Sorry, was just seeing the place. Your room is nice.” 

“Thank you,” he nods, “I just got it redecorated — got a friend who's a killer interior designer.” 

“I bet you got a friend for everything,” you say, meeting him in the hallway where he opens the door to the next room. It's dark, covered in squares of soundproofing foam. A few different guitars hang from the wall above a big desk with three monitors, computer below whirring in a low hum. 

“I do,” he says, “We exchange a lot of favors. This is where I work from for the most part. Laundry is just a closet next to the bathroom. And uh…you saw downstairs, so I guess that’s the tour.” “It’s a really, really nice spot,” you confess, heading back down the spiral staircase, “Super good location, too.” “It wasn’t when I landed here in ‘04,” he leans on the railing at the top step looking down at you, “But you were prob’ly learnin’ fractions back then.” “You’re annoying,” you cross your arms at the bottom stairs staring up at his boyish grin, he winks again – your legs are jello. “I’m gonna change real quick, I made you a cup of coffee – there’s creamer in the fridge if you need it,” he calls out before disappearing from the staircase to change. You go to the fridge where there’s a litter of polaroids stuck to the stainless steel – most of them of a German Shepherd puppy posed with him and another guy, clean cut, nothing like Eddie.

“Whose the cute dog?” you ask when you hear his footsteps against the metal.   

“Oh that’s my nephew, his name’s Bandit,” he says, pulling a shirt over his head while he makes it back down the spiral staircase. Your eyes linger on the tattoos on his chest, trailing down his obliques, “The dog, not the guy in the pictures.” “I figured.” “That’s my buddy Steve, he’s like my brother. I was out in Chicago for a couple months helping him get his shit back on track – we got him a puppy to keep his mind off things,” Eddie snorts, watching you pour some cream into your mug. You offer to do so for him but he shakes his head, taking it from you to put back in the fridge. “Is he okay?” 

“His wife just passed away,” he says quietly. You offer him a sad face and he shrugs in that ‘What can you do?’ kind of way that guys do when they don’t know what to say, “You clothes should be all set in an hour or so.” “Oh, and then you’re kickin’ me out?” you tease, drinking your coffee up against the counter. He smirks, running his palm over the scratchy scruff of his chin and jaw. “Nah, not at all. You can stay as long as you want,” he shakes his head, his curls already starting to dry around his face – big and defined now with the summer rain, “Just didn’t think you’d wanna hang out at some old man’s house all afternoon.” “See, I was thinking how fun it would be to clear you out of your Raisin Bran,” you smirk against the lip of your mug while he makes his way towards you. He crosses his arms, taking slow steps before he’s got you caged in against the counter. If your nose knows, he definitely spritzed a spray of his cologne before he made it back down stairs – dark, spicy sandalwood enveloping you with a whisper of laundry detergent. 

“I’m almost out, actually,” he grins, lids half closing while he looks down into your eyes, “But it’s okay, I have an unopened box of Kashi multigrain in one of these cabinets somewhere.” He waits for your next dig, knowing it’s coming by the quirk in your lips – you’re full of them today. “Gotta keep that blood pressure in check,” you tease again, trying to keep yourself from smiling as he leans in, a deep short chuckle coming from his throat. You little brat, it sounds like.  “It’s really good for your heart health, actually,” he corrects, brows raising a little. A smirk flits across his full lips when he watches you falter a little, your pretty eyes glazing and glassy while he looms over you. His voice gets low and smoky, just like his cologne, “Maybe you could learn a thing or two from me, hm?”

You shut your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek – you can’t show him how good he’s getting you right now, not so soon, “Oh totally, like what the best pill cases are for my future arthritis medicine.” He laughs, the soft crows feet around his eyes crinkling with it. It’s a barking laugh, quick and sharp – you’re sharp, he likes that, “I can definitely do that.” His nose brushes yours and you brace yourself for what’s coming next, ready to feel him kiss you. To feel the buzz of his hands on you like how they were when he led you inside, when he put his hand on your hands in the park. His lips ghost above yours, breath fanning over your face while you take a final one before the inevitable. “You’ve got a quick mouth there, kleine,” he says smoothly. He reaches around you to grab his own mug of coffee, taking a long sip. Eddie catches the miniscule drop of your shoulders, a silent win goes off in his head. You want him to kiss you so bad and that makes him feel like a million bucks – fuck that – a trillion bucks. 

He steps back, taking a sip of his coffee while the apartment gets a little darker, the storm rolling further in. “What’s ‘kleine’?” you ask, trying to regain your breath. He smiles, walking over to the dimmer on the wall and easing the lights up to a warm glow. “It’s German,” he says, looking over his shoulder, “Loosely translates to baby girl.” “You know German?” you ask, trying to not let the translation send you directly into outer space. You watch him with his coffee cup make his way over to the sectional in his open living space. It’s big and inviting, covered in a sea of throws that it looks like he collected over the years. He plops down, tilting his head toward the seat next to him to encourage you over. “I did an extended run of Cabaret in Jersey like – pffft, I don’t know, a million years ago,” he shrugs, putting his coffee on the table in front of him while you plop yourself down on the deep, squishy cushions. You swallow hard when a waft of his cologne hits you again, trying your hardest not to crawl onto his lap to take him in. 

“Saw the show in ‘98 with Alan Cumming, lost my mind – I mean, really transformative for an 18 year old I guess. Years later when I moved out here I saw there was auditions for it and just got knee deep in that shit, taught myself German and everything to make it sound more authentic,” he looks forward wistfully while he recounts the story, smiling at you when he comes back to himself, “Was very helpful when I went to Berlin a few years later.” 

“Oh, how was that?” you ask, “Did you have fun? I’ve never been to Europe.” 

“I’d tell you about all the fun I had if I could remember it,” he grins,flopping his arm up over the back of the couch, beckoning you closer. “C’mere, honey,” he says, the quiet of his voice putting you at ease. You scooch closer to him while he pulls one of the blankets from the end of the chaise cushion and wraps it around your shoulders. With the blanket comes his arm with no hesitation, his hand resting on your shoulder and then down to your waist. “I like to marathon the Twilight Zone when it gets shitty out like this,” he explains, “You down?” 

“Yeah,” you smile, “I’m down. I’ve seen a couple handfuls of episodes.” 

“Yeah? What’s your favorite?” “Hm,” you think, “I think The Monsters are Due on Maple Street. It’s the first one I ever watched.”  “We’ll start with that one, then.” He operates everything from an app on his phone, it surprises you that you’re not as techy as he seems to be. It’s not long before the episode starts and his hold on you becomes more intentional, more cuddly. Thunder booms overhead when the episode gets more intense, making you embarrassed when you jolt. He giggles at you, pulling you in closer – a soft whisper of I got you leaves his lips, you barely hear it.  You snuggle up together while the episode ends and another starts, you tilt your head up toward him, “What’s your favorite?”

“Ooh, good question,” he smirks, “I think The Hitchhiker – it was the first one my uncle ever showed me when I started living with him. Scared the shit out of me.”

“You? Scared?” you quirk a brow, looking down at the way he holds you – assured, confident, “You don’t seem like someone who gets scared very often.” 

“That’s the old age, peach,” he chuckles out, low and rumbly, “All that Raisin Bran, really switches up that fight or flight.” When you laugh he looks down at you, eyes sparkling, noses close together, “Is that funny?” “Yeah, it’s funny,” you say back just as quietly, adjusting yourself a little closer to him, “You’re funny.” His eyes flick down to your lips and then back up, you feel his hand spread out on your waist while he leans in closer, pressing up against you. 

“Just funny?” he asks, watching your eyes flutter closed and then open. His lips ghosting over yours, edge of his bottom lip skating over the curve of your cupid’s bow. 

“No, not just…” you breathe, too intoxicated by how close he is, how his lips and breath tease you. His hand glides up from your waist, trailing a fingertip up the side of your neck, stopping under your chin. You shiver at the touch, goosebumps flooding your arms and legs, belly flipping in somersaults. He tilts your head up, his cocking slowly to the side while his watches for your reaction.

“The show’s about to come back on.” The words are soft and quiet when they leave your mouth, your last ditch effort while fear and excitement roar in your ears. His eyes feel like magnets that you’re constantly pulled too, locking with them while he leans in.

“It’s a boring episode,” he grumbles out quietly from behind a smirk, eyes closing while the tip of your nose is brushed with his. He teases one last time before his lips press warmly against yours, parting slightly to capture them.  You breathe in sharp through your nose, butterflies fluttering and slamming against your chest for release. His hands come up to lay themselves against your cheeks, now hot with excitement while they find home behind your head and neck. He’s fiending for you in the insatiable way he’s felt before, the way a man fiends for a woman.

His leads, taking control of the way the kiss moves with each tilt of his head, changing the intensity each time he breaks away to breathe and come back to you. His lips are full and plush, a soft pink that works for him, it’s almost innocent, when you know he’s anything but. He comes in again, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down gently to encourage you to let his tongue slide into your mouth. 

His hands greedily pull you in by the waist now that your tongues are brushing, wrapping up together with no space between. You whimper into it, unable to keep the butterflies in your stomach at bay with his other hand roams down your back. You feel his lips stretch into a smile against yours, a growl of a chuckle coming out of his chest when he pulls away again. More kisses, soft and sweet with eyes closed, noses nuzzling before lips meet again. You climb onto his lap, he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you – tight and protective. You lead this time, a hand coming up to cup his jaw while you kiss, taking his bottom lip between your teeth this time. He relents, grip softening on you, fingertips grazing the tops of your thighs over the material of his sweatpants. Your hips roll forward over his and he pulls away.

“Steady now, sugar,” he warns, looking up at you with heavy lidded brown eyes, “I don’t fuck on the first date.” You pout a little, he likes that face, “You got some kind of moral code, old man?” “M’just not that kind of girl, baby,” he shrugs lightly, taking your hand and pressing soft kisses to your fingertips. His eyes don’t leave yours, big and innocent – like he’s challenging you, “Gotta keep you wantin’ more of me.” You can’t imagine not wanting more of him, no matter how much he gave you. “Then how come you kiss me like that?” you ask, his lips still leaving pillowy kisses against your fingers, “Like you’re hungry for me?” 

“Oh, I am hungry, peach,” he smirks, tongue sliding out and gliding up the space between your first and middle finger. The tip of his tongue flicks the pads of them at the top, before taking just your fingertips into his mouth for a moment – hot and wet. Your mouth hangs open, drool collecting under your tongue at the feeling – imagining it happening exactly where you both want it to. “I think we should cut into that icebox cake,” he offers with a smile, like he didn’t just tease you into complete stupidity, “That’ll solve my problem.” He kisses your cheek as he guides you off his lap to get up, feeling lucky that he put on boxer briefs to keep his now painful erection contained – though his sweatpants left little to the imagination. Eddie comes back with two plates with heaping slices of dessert, passing you a spoon while you try your best to calm down. 

“You okay?” he asks sweetly, brushing a stray hair out of your face. You nod, shoving a bite into your mouth so you don’t scream over his gentle touch and soft eyes. So you don’t yell and stomp through his living room about how bad you want him to bring you upstairs and eat you out. So you don’t tell him about the butterflies. You eat, watch, and talk – getting stories on his tattoos, you tell him about how you just started living alone, he tells you all the best spots to get furniture. You share soft little kisses while cuddled under blankets, laughing at the bad special effects and talking about the good special effects for the 60s as the episodes continue on. You fall asleep on his shoulder and he lets out a big deep breath – he likes that you already feel comfortable enough to do so. He swallows hard, doing his best to settle down his own butterflies. 

prev | next

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

Merlin

The Walls of Camelot by spqr

"Camelot will fall tomorrow,” Arthur says, on the first day of the eighth month of the siege.

DC

IRIS Log #1548 by deadchannelradio

Disclaimer From Your Friendly Neighborhood Oracle:

The following is a transcript of Patrol Communications Audio written by state of the art transcription technology, IRIS (Interpretation of Recorded Intelligence Software). IRIS was created to provide easily searchable records, automatically, and eliminate the need to transcribe each patrol audio log manually. That being said, IRIS is still experimental, and may not always be entirely accurate. - (01:25) Red Hood: (Mild static) (Out of breath, slurred) You motherfuckers. Put some fuckin-

(01:25) Batman: (Shaking) Red Hood-

(01:25) Red Hood: Shut up. Put some fucking respect. On my name. Start fucking copying me. I just got thrown fucking. Um. 40 feet. Into a fucking uh. What's it. Ditch. I'm still fucking conscious.

(01:25) Batman: Red Hood, do not move, we're en route-

(01:25) Red Hood: What'll I win if I stand up.

(01:25) Batman: (Loud) Do not stand up.

we shall be free; we shall find peace by mediant

Clark has accepted what it means to be Lex's prisoner - the pain of the Green, the experiments, the hands on it. The long years buried in its containment cell, let out only to act as Lex's weapon, as Lex's tool. It had fought back at first, but years have ground it down and away to almost nothing.

Then Lex hands it a baby. And Clark realizes that while it may have hurt humans, and lied about what it is, and it may deserve to be locked away - Kon deserves to be free.

Untamed

The Absolutely True Story of the Yiling Patriarch: A Manifesto in Many Parts by aubreyli (+ podfic)

Wei Wuxian’s hand jolts, spilling a drop of wine onto the tabletop. “Love?” he croaks, then clears his throat and tries again. “Lan Zh— uh, Hanguang-jun, in love?”

“Have you not heard the story?” the other young woman asks, looking pitying. “You must, it is a truly heartrending tale of star-crossed romance and mutual pining — go to any storyhouse in town, everyone has been requesting a reading of this book.”

“There’s a book?” Wei Wuxian says blankly.

-- In which the junior disciples (namely, Lan Jingyi, Ouyang Zizhen, and a reluctant Lan Sizhui) turn to RPF in an attempt to rehabilitate Wei Wuxian's reputation so that he and Hanguang-jun can get together and get married and live happily ever after. It's... surprisingly effective.

Clone Wars

patron saint by spqr (+ podfic)

Funerary practices? Master Ti writes back. I’m not sure what you mean, Master Kenobi. Used biomass is the property of Kamino and thus is recycled into the cloning process.

So that’s how the revolution begins—with dead brothers, but not the way you might expect.

Miraculous Ladybug

drowning (in plain sight) by buggachat

Everybody had expected Monarch's defeat to be a moment of triumph. Nobody had expected Gabriel Agreste, unmasked and mind frayed from continual abuse of the miraculous, crying out to all who would listen and making Paris certain of one thing:

His son, Adrien Agreste, is one of his sentimonsters.

And now he's missing.

Nobody can find him— not even the superheroes, and not even his closest friends. But Marinette, Nino, and Alya aren't ones to give up so easily. They'll find him, no matter what it takes.

(But, geez, would it kill Chat Noir to lend a hand?)

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Bayverse tmnt scolding their sons since they went a different direction or didn’t listen and didn’t follow with the orders their dad gave out, and nearly got spotted by humans while the eldest was trying to keep the middle from mucking around and go back on track?

I feel like they will be grounded after coming back to the lair and get sent to their rooms and have their mask taken off them. :D

Sons of Leonardo (Fluff/Crack-ish)

Bayverse!Leonardo x reader

A/N: I love this idea! But I decided to focus on one group of children instead of all four. I went with you and Leo’s kids (aka, my OCS), because that was the first that came to my head😂💙

Buuuuut! If you want me to do more of these with the others, I would happily do so💚

-------------

You and Leo are at least in your 40’s.

Warnings: Spelling, you and Leo’s sons being silly teenagers💙

-------------

Romeo did not like it one bit. Actually, he had been very much against it from the start, wondering how the hell Marcello had managed to get their father to agree to let them go watch the basketball game. He had probably used that eye trick uncle Michelangelo had taught him. Heck, even Gerardo knew how to make those eyes. But of course, their father wouldn’t just let Marcello and Gerardo go on their own. No, no. Romeo had to come along and make sure that his brothers didn’t do anything stupid, or worse, getting noticed by humans.

And that was how Romeo found himself stuck inside the jumbotron for hours, stuck watching a basketball game he didn’t actually want to see. If this was the “responsibility of the oldest” that his father kept talking about, he could easily understand how he could be so uptight sometimes. And as Romeo pulled 12 year old Gerardo back from the edge, he wished his father would have been more uptight that day.

As soon as the game ended, Romeo was ready to go. They had promised not just their father, but their mother as well, that they would return home as soon as the game had finished. So when Romeo had his brothers returned to the roof once more, the last thing he expected was 15 year old Marcello heading the opposite direction, leaning over the edge of the building in order to get a better look of the people walking out onto the street.

“Marcello! No! Dad told us to get home as soon as the game finished!”, Romeo commanded, pointing in the direction they had to go - away from downtown.

“Calm down, junior, I’m just watching”, Marcello said, waving his hand at his older brother. “I’m just watching”.

“Hah”, Gerardo laughed, pointing at Romeo. “He called you junior”.

“Marcello, seriously”, Romeo sighed. “You know how dad gets when he’s worried. Hell, do you remember the time you went too far out in the sewer, and dad, granddad and all our uncles almost exploded with worry? Do you remember how sad mom was?”

“Dude, I was 4”, Marcello said with a deadpan look. “Now I’m just as old as dad was when he and his brothers started going out”.

“Yeah, but they also listened to dad!”

“Haha!”, Gerardo laughed. “Donnie, Raph and Mikey listening to dad? That was a good one ‘Meo!”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?”, Romeo sighed, side eyeing his little brother.

“Relax”, Marcello said, straining his neck to get a better look at the crowd. “I’m just looking around. You never know when you see a pretty girl”.

“A girl?”, Romeo asked skeptically. “Bro, you’re 15”.

“So? Mom and dad met when they were 15”.

“18”, Romeo corrected.

“Whatever”, Marcello said, rolling his eyes, letting his hands rest on the edge of the building.

“Why do you wanna look at girls?”, Gerardo asked.

“I don’t know”, Marcello mumbled. “I just wanna look…”

“You are not going to score a human girl”, Romeo said, crossing his arms.

“Says who?!”

“Dad, who is waiting for us to get home”, Romeo said. “Come on, he knows when the game ends and how long it takes to get back”.

“That hypocrite”, Marcello said. “Mom is a human, dad is a mutant. They didn’t meet because he kept hiding away!”

“No, mom and dad met through aunt April at a house party”, Romeo said, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Now, let’s go before dad and our uncles go looking for us. Or even worse, granddad”.

“No!”, Marcello said, pulling his shoulder away from his brother, getting down to sit on the edge. “I wanna see some humans!”

Gerardo watched the interaction with unease. After 12 years he knew that his two older brothers could get into some heated arguments, just like their father and their uncle Raphael had done when they were younger. But Gerardo also knew that neither Romeo or Marcello would back down so easily.

“You have seen plenty of humans today! You watched a whole basketball game!”, Romeo exclaimed in frustration, grabbing for his brother once more. “Now, let’s go home!”

“I said no!”, Marcello exclaimed, pulling away yet again, this time with much more force. This caused Marcello to tumble forward, his weight pulling him off of the roof, down towards the big crowd of humans below. But thanks to the higher powers for Romeo’s fast reflexes, he managed to get a hold of Marcello’s hand, pressing his heels against the edge before leaning back. Gerardo yelped, running to throw his arms around Romeo, helping him pull their brother back on the roof safely.

Once Marcello was back standing on the roof, slightly shivering from the sudden shock and fear of falling from a high building, Romeo was on him in less than a minute.

“Are you okay?! Did they see you?! What were you thinking!?”

“It wasn’t on purpose, worry fart”, Marcello said, pushing Romeo off of him. “And no! No one saw me”.

“Guys, I think we should go”, Gerardo said, looking over his shoulder in unease.

“Rardo’s right”, Romeo said. “They could be checking the roof soon”. And with those words, the three brothers hurried home.

—

The three brothers entered the quiet lair, their senses heightened for any sounds of movements that would alert them to their extended family’s presence as they sneaked through the lair.

“Do you think dad has gone to bed?”, Gerardo asked.

Marcello smirked, his back straightened as if he didn’t have a worry in the world as he clapped Romeo on the shoulder in victory. “Told you that old fart wouldn’t notice a thing”.

“Look twice before using the term old fart”, a voice sounded, causing the three brothers to jump in surprise, finding their father standing right behind them. His arms crossed and a scolding expression on his face, his towering statue causing his sons to crane their necks in order to look up at him.

“H- hey dad”, Marcello smiled with a sheepish smile. “H- how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough”, Leo said, his expression unchanging. “Where have you been?”

“At the game”, Gerardo said. “Just like we told you we would”.

“The game finished an hour ago. It only takes 15 minutes to get from the game and to the lair”, Leo said, his hands resting on his hips.

“The game stretched out”, Marcello said, feigning innocence. This caused Leo to sigh, rubbing the bridge of his beak.

Romeo sighed, knowing what this meant. “You and the others watched the game on TV, didn’t you?”

“We did”, Leo sighed, sounding more than a little frustrated.

“Okay, we might have hung around after the game and watched humans, but that’s it”, Marcello said, ignoring his brothers’ burning glares when he used the word “we”. “But it’s okay now. We’re home, safe and sound. So if you don’t mind, I think I’ll head to bed and get some sleep before heading to dinner at aunt April and uncle Casey’s tomorrow”, the middle child smiled innocently, trying to sneak past the broad form of his father.

“Oh no you don’t”, Leo said, grabbing on to the tails of Marcello’s bandana, janking him back with a small tuck, and then pulling it off of his head with a smooth flick of his wrist. “Because you’re all grounded”.

“WHAT?!”, Marcello yelled out loud, grabbing onto his bare head.

“Aww”, Gerardo said with a sad expression, not resisting as his father took the bandana off of his head. “I hate being grounded”.

“That’s the rules”, Leo said, waiting as Romeo untied his own bandana before handing it to his father. “You don’t follow the rules, you get grounded”.

“That’s not fair!”, Marcello yelled. “You went out all the time when you were 15!”

“Yes, I got grounded too”, Leo said. “You see how that works?” He gathered all bandanas in one hand before pointing in the direction of their rooms. “Now go to bed. We start training early tomorrow”.

The three brothers groaned, Gerardo and Marcello being extra loud as they did so, dragging their feet toward the metal stairs that lead to the second floor of the lair. Leo watched them leave, making sure they had gone to their rooms, before returning back to your and his shared bedroom.

In your bedroom, he found you reading a book in the bed table light, your baby daughter cuddling against your chest as she played with her teething toy. You looked up and saw the bandanas in Leo’s hand, watching as he laid them on top of the dresser.

“Grounded?”, you asked, Valentina wiggling in your arms at the sight of her father, a big smile on her face.

“Grounded”, Leo confirmed as he got ready for bed.

“Hopefully they didn’t take it too hard”, you said, closing your book before placing it on the nightstand.

“Well, Marcello wasn’t too happy about it, but the others took it pretty well”, Leo said, crawling under the covers, wrapping arm around you, before pulling you and blabbering Valentina close.

“So nothing new there?”, you asked, resting your head upon his shoulder, watching as your daughter started to hit lightly upon Leo’s plastron with a wide smile. Leo shook his head in a response, resting his cheeks against the top of your head, watching you daughter place both hands on his chest. Leo sighed with a smile, tickling the side of little Valentina, her giggles loud and happy as she hid against you.

“And you, young lady, better not be like your brothers when you get older”, he said, finding peace in her small giggles.

“That, or she’ll be even worse”, you joked, your fingers soothing her small shell.

“With three big brothers? Yeah, you’re probably right”, Leo chuckled, placing a kiss on the temple of your head.

[sebastiansluts]

While you're waiting for me to write some of these requests.....how about a lil something I wrote a bit ago that I just finished up for you all ❤️

Bucky Barnes x Reader; everyone is above age, like 20s ish, dark!40s bucky, virgin!reader, dub-con/non-con, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal cockwarming

ANY HATE WILL BE DELETED THIS IS A JUDGEMENT FREE ZONE DON'T LIKE, DON'T INTERACT; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+

You were beyond excited, it was finally tonight, the night! You were going out with the Bucky Barnes tonight, you still couldn't believe it. He was the catch of the neighborhood, and yet, he'd asked you out. He was the type of boy who could have anyone, and there were plenty of girls who did want him, but he wanted you.

You felt a flutter in your chest, and you tried to calm down, sitting on the couch in your front room, trying your hardest not to stare out the window. He would come, you were sure of it. This wasn't some prank, he wouldn't do that...would he? Surely not, Bucky wasn't that type of man, right?

A knock on your front door jostled you out of your thoughts and you jumped up immediately, flattening your hands over your skirt, getting rid of any wrinkles before you quickly crossed to the door, not wanting to keep him waiting.

You opened the door, eyes focused on the doorknob until you had it open enough. You looked up to the figure in your doorway, your gaze traveling up a fitted waistcoat, a navy jacket, semi messy tie and that face.

Cut jawline, high cheekbones, straight nose, pink lips, and blue, blue eyes. His hair was slicked back, pressed down against his head and you smiled, thinking how sweet it was that he was so dressed up for you.

Bucky's eyes were focused lower than your face, and you felt your cheeks heat when you realized he was staring at your chest. You laughed lightly but his eyes were dark, making you take a step backwards, your laugh turning awkward.

His eyes snapped up to yours, full of concern and laughter. "Doll, where'd you get that rock? Steal it from your ma's jewelry box?" He gently turned you back into the house, following you in and shutting the door behind him. You frowned, looking down at your chest, lifting a hand to your necklace. It was a small gemstone, your birth month, given to you by an ex. You told him that, looking up at him and there was a flash of that darkness again, but it was so quick you could have imagined it.

“Where’s your dad? I wanted to tell him what time you’ll be home,” Bucky asked, changing the subject as he looked around the front room into the kitchen. 

“Oh, he’s napping. Had a long day at work and said to tell you that I should be home by eleven,” you lied, actually having no idea where your dad was, he’d left a few weeks ago and you and your mother were just barely scraping by right now. 

Bucky nodded slowly, then spoke quietly. “Well, I wouldn’t want to wake him. Shall we go?” 

“Of course! Let me get my purse,” you whispered, bending to grab it off the couch. You could feel Bucky’s eyes on you, but you knew your skirt was covering everything. Still, you felt unnerved, like he could see through all the layers to the skin underneath.

You shook off the feeling, standing up with your clutch in hand, and walked back to the front door with Bucky, his arm behind your back, not quite touching, but it raised the hair on your arms. 

“Maybe I better grab a jacket,” you murmured, suddenly chilled, but Bucky had already shut the door, and was guiding you down the front steps. 

“Doll, we’re a block from the theater, if you’re that cold you can have mine,” Bucky said easily, sliding the jacket off his shoulders and down his arms, catching it in his hands before he lifted it to your shoulders. He draped it around you, letting you grab the lapels and pull them in close. You breathed in his spicy scent, shivering again, and Bucky chuckled. “Guess you were cold.” 

The two of you walked down the road to the theater, Bucky walking you right up to the ticket taker, already handing over two before you could even read what was showing. You tried to look back at the marquee, but the man was ripping them in half, handing them back to Bucky and saying, “Enjoy the show.” Bucky ushered you inside, getting a popcorn and soda before leading you into the theater, into the second to last row, right in the middle, and though you were confused, you sat down. 

“Are we not sitting closer?” you asked quietly, always feeling awkward talking normally at the movies, even if it hadn’t started yet. 

“Nah, this is the best seat in the house, trust me,” Bucky said, leaning back in his seat and eating some popcorn, offering you some too. You smiled and took a piece, chewing slowly as the lights dimmed, the picture starting. 

You sat back in your seat, engulfed in Bucky’s jacket, keeping you nice and warm as you drank some soda before handing it back to Bucky. He moved around beside you, jostling you gently, and you turned to him, trying to see what he was doing. He sat forwards, blocking your view of most of him, and you were concerned, thinking he had been sick, but he suddenly handed you the soda and popcorn, so you took it and moved to set them down, but he tapped your thigh, just above your knee. 

Leaning over in the seats, Bucky whispered in your ear. “You still cold, doll?” You shook your head, and he continued, “You sure?” as his fingers trailed over your knee. You shivered again, feeling uncomfortable, not sure what he was getting at. His hand swept under your skirt and you moved to push it away, but you were holding the popcorn. You couldn’t reach to set it down on the floor, and you weren’t going to dump it, your other hand holding the soda, so big you could barely hold it one handed. 

You couldn’t do anything but sit there as Bucky’s hand explored under your skirt, massaging your thighs, pushing them further open until he reached your covered sex. He rubbed over your panties, feeling the warmth emanating from you, and he grinned against your ear. 

“That’s why you’re not cold anymore! You’ve got all this heat inside you, keeping you burning up. Share that heat, huh babydoll? Share it with me, won’t you?” Bucky kept rubbing at you, over your clit, making circles with an even pressure, and you couldn’t help the way you felt warmth rising from your toes up to your cheeks. 

Bucky’s fingers suddenly pushed your panties aside and slid in the wetness that he had created, coating themselves in your slick before slipping against your bare cunt. You tried to buck your hips to get him away, but all it did was give him the opportunity to slide his fingers into your pussy, making you gasp just as an explosion happened on screen. You hadn’t realized what kind of movie it was, but a war movie was not what you expected.

You jumped, Bucky moving with you, keeping his fingers inside you, and when you settled, you were practically sitting on his hand, Bucky’s body turned to face you, his knees digging into your thigh. His other arm was wrapped around your shoulders, on top of his own jacket, settled on your breast. 

It was more than anyone had ever touched you before, beyond yourself, and it was getting to you- you were trapped with no way to move, and you were too scared to make a noise, despite the explosions still happening on screen, humiliated at the thought of being found like this. Bucky sucked on your earlobe, making another shiver wrack your body, and he tightened his hold on you. 

“Sorry dollface, forgot, I’m takin’ some of your warmth, I should be givin’ it back to ya,” Bucky whispered, hot breath on the skin behind your ear, nearly making a moan slip out of you, despite yourself. He kissed your neck, sucking on the skin, ragged breaths leaving your lips as he moved along to your collarbones, peeking out of your top. 

“Damn it, I want your tits out,” Bucky muttered darkly, and your cheeks turned hot, his crass language a bit of a shock, despite what he was doing to you. He took the popcorn from your hand, and tossed it into the empty seat next to you. You turned to him, opening your mouth to tell him off, but Bucky kissed you, plunging his tongue into your mouth, stopping your words. 

You tried to protest but every noise you made was swallowed up by Bucky, kissing you messily and deeply, shoving his tongue down your throat as his free hand pulled at your top. You tried to stop him, but he had one of your tits out of your lace bra and through the neckline of your top before you could even get your hand up to his. You tried to swat at him in the small space but only succeeded in further pushing your top down, allowing Bucky the opportunity to pull your other breast out. 

Bucky finally pulled away from your lips and you gasped for air, squeaking when his hand covered one of your breasts, massaging it and rolling your nipple in his fingers, his other still buried between your legs. “See? There’s a girl, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Now, get on my lap and give me some of that warmth.” 

Your head whipped around to face Bucky’s, leering at you in the dark, eyes shining brightly but darkly. “Get on my lap now before I show this whole theater what a fucking slut you are, begging me to finger you in back of the picture show, tits out for anyone to see.” 

Tears sprang to your eyes, but you couldn’t do anything but nod, finally able to set the soda down as Bucky moved his hands to your waist, letting you bend to put it down before lifting you onto his lap. He pulled you back, lifting you at your thighs and setting you down with his cock slapping up against your pussy. 

You squeaked again, you hadn’t even known his cock was out, and it startled you, feeling it huge between your legs. Bucky hooked his chin over your shoulder and whispered in your ear, “Yeah, that’s it babydoll, I know it’s big, but you’re gonna take it aren’t ya? Now reach down and grab it, easy doll or we both get caught, remember? And you’re the one with her tits out, skirt up, panties drenched,” Bucky reminded you.

You held his cock gently but firmly, guiding it to your entrance, but your panties were still on. “Push them aside, and sit on my cock before I decide to stop bein’ nice and use your other lil’ hole instead,” Bucky ordered darkly, and you whimpered, reaching down and sliding your panties to the side, and pressing his cockhead against you. 

“Bucky…please. I’m- I’m a virgin,” you whispered, and you felt Bucky shudder beneath you. 

“I thought so, but to hear you say it, fuck, babydoll I’m gonna be so good to you, my little virgin,” Bucky crooned against your ear, and spread your thighs wider apart. The tears that filled your eyes before began falling as he lifted you up, making you position his dick below you, then he began to lower you. 

Bucky’s dick split you open as soon as it entered you, and your mouth dropped open on a silent shout as all the air raced out of you. You quickly bit your lip, hard enough to draw blood, desperate to keep quiet, as Bucky pulled your hips down and back until you were sitting in his lap again, his cock buried deep inside your cunt. 

You were aching, deep inside, it felt like a gut punch to your insides, but Bucky was swearing up a storm in your ear, telling you, “Babydoll, you feel…fuck, you feel amazing, my sweet little virgin girl. Oh I’m gonna take care of you doll, this cunt is fucking heaven, my dick’s never been so snug, I’m gonna blow in seconds baby. Don’t worry, this is just round one.” 

Before you could even process it, Bucky was bringing one of his hands between your legs and rubbing your exposed clit, his other hand slapping over your mouth, muffling your cry. You tensed on him, tight, not sure if you were coming or not, but he came, you could feel splashes of cum filling you, warming your insides. 

Bucky pressed a kiss to your shoulder, pulling you to lean back against his chest. Your eyes were drying but there were tear tracks down your face that Bucky kissed. “You were perfect doll, just perfect. Now just sit here and relax, watch the rest of the movie- I need to see these gorgeous tits some more,” he said, raising his hands to your chest, groping your breasts for a while before he just held them in his hands, squeezing every once in a while. 

You couldn’t move, feeling his cock still inside you, softening but not slipping out, still big and keeping you plugged up. You rested your head against Bucky’s shoulder, helpless to do anything but wait for the movie to end, but getting anxious about people seeing you. 

Finally, just before the credits started to roll, Bucky released your breasts, stuffing them back in your top, ignoring your bra. You tried to quickly stand, but the change in angle of his dick inside you made you gasp, sinking back into Bucky. 

“Nice and slow, dollface, told you it was the best seat in the house, don’t go hurtin’ it,” he murmured into your ear, helping you off his dick, his fingers under your skirt, adjusting your panties as you stood in front of him. He tucked his dick away and stood, grabbing his jacket and leaving the trash. You tried to bend to pick it up, but you were aching again, and Bucky was pushing you out of the aisle, so you left it. He placed his jacket over your shoulders again, wrapping his arm around them afterwards, pulling you into his side, turning your face into his chest, hiding your messy face from sight.

“Have a good night!” called the ticket taker, and Bucky responded in kind, with a jaunty, happy tone that you couldn’t believe had sounded so sincere earlier in the night. He walked you home, whistling a cheery tune, keeping you tucked into his side. You tried to walk up the steps and get the front door open without him, but he was glued to you. 

“Now doll, I’m not going without saying somethin’ to your father. I expect he’d want to know you had a good evening and are home safe,” Bucky said, a glint in his eye that you didn’t trust, and you tried to slip inside when you got the door unlocked, but he pushed it open wide, following you in. “Where is he, huh dollface? Where’s your father? Matter of fact, where’s your mother?” 

You were shaking like a leaf as Bucky shut and locked the door, whistling again as he stalked towards you. “They’re not here, are they baby? No, your daddy walked out on you, didn’t he? And your ma’s out there right now hookin’ to make ends meet! I saw her the other night, don’t fucking deny it.” You were backing up, Bucky still preying after you, until your back hit a wall, and he pressed you up against it. 

“My little virgin girl’s all alone, she needs someone to take care of her,” Bucky crooned, nosing at your neck. One of his hands came up to rest on your throat lightly, before pinching the chain around it and yanking hard. Your necklace broke, gemstone scattering on the floor and you gasped, staring at Bucky with wide eyes.

“The only jewelry you're gonna wear is mine, understand? You’re mine now. I’m gonna take care of you, I’m gonna provide for you. You’re never gonna need anyone again, because you’re my girl. I don’t ever want to see another man’s touch on you, in any way.” Bucky threw the chain to the floor, then pushed away from you. He examined the room you were in, walking past the couch to the rooms in the back. “Come show me your room doll- it’s time for round two.”

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

You're one of my favorite fallout blogs right now. Are there any more Cooper headcanons you have rattling around?

Firstly, you deeply flatter me. 🩷 I really enjoy writing stuff for you guys. To answer your question: yes, I have about a million more Cooper headcanons, and I'm more than happy to share, so here's a little random grab-bag. Since you didn't specify NSFW headcanons, I'll put some SFW ones here and do the NSFWs in a follow-up.

I'm currently traveling to visit family and have a hard time writing or editing in the car, but I'm hoping to have at least one longer smut submission done some time tonight or tomorrow. Thank you all for reading!

General SFW Cooper Howard Headcanons

Prewar! Cooper Howard

- I feel like he and Barb met and married a little older than would've been traditional at the time, maybe late 30's? Their relationship has a maturity to it that I think really only comes from meeting when you're both more established and confident in yourselves. I feel like it may have taken them a while to have Janey, as well. I imagine they probably wanted more kids but ultimately struggled to have them (that man absolutely ADORES being a dad, so in my mind he'd want like four or five kids). People seem to generally see Coop as late 40's-50ish, and Janey is like 7, right? 43(ish), with Barb maybe around 40, is pretty old for a first child.

- This man also 100% had pretty boy tendencies (and I bet they're still in there somewhere, just buried real deep). I don't see him as necessarily fussy about it, but after so many years of appearance being a big part of how he makes his living, I imagine you'd catch him in the mirror about any time one appeared, "just to check real quick". Very particular about his clothes fitting right. Meticulous dental hygiene. Always smells amazing.

- He's a big "acts of service" person; his favorite way to show love, whether it be to his family and friends, Janey, or you, is to learn what your interests and hobbies are and to engage with them, to remember things about you and what you like. And, like most people who are big on acts of service, he prefers to be loved that way, in turn. As such, he's a big sucker for inside jokes.

The Ghoul

- His sassy little duster is 110% used to make him look big and scary. Walton Goggins is only 5'10, and it's not like he's beefy in build. He's obviously not unmuscular, by any means, but he's lean. I'd call him "trailer park wiry". You'd definitely be surprised at how much smaller he looks the first time you see him without the coat; he still cuts an imposing figure after cultivating it for so long, but he looks so much more svelte without it. The boots and hat also probably make him seem bigger.

- The man still remembers how to dance, like, really well. Line dancing, ballroom, even a little swing...he's quite eclectic. You will 100% have to nag about this a little if you want to actually see it in action, because he thinks you just wanna make fun of him for it, but if you can convince him you really do just wanna share this with him, he'll teach you. Finds he still really enjoys it if you can convince him to try.

- Doesn't have much by way of a sense of taste anymore, like most old men, and, like most old men, he has a penchant for sweets of any kind (that also isn't totally partially a remnant of how much junk he used to eat with Janey). Sweet and spicy he can still taste.

[frownyalfred]

Completely off topic ? Ish but how do you meal prep? Followed for batfam but also love your gym and fitness talk? How exactly do you work out? I want to start going to the gym but I don't know how to get a membership and how to use all the machines?

I usually do meal prep Sunday nights. I prep a meal that can be used for lunch and/or dinner, and then some breakfast items I can grab and go with. I do a high protein meal prep so it takes some thought but I’ve gotten into a good groove the last few years.

Working out is a little trickier. I started out going maybe once a week, and slowly started going more over time to build a routine. Now it’s habit, since I like to get moving in some way every day. I do weightlifting with cardio days and yoga in between, though recently I’ve been doing more yoga since it’s lower impact.

Most gyms will do an intro/trial membership and will be happy to show you around! A lot of them also do intro to the machines as a free session, which I highly recommend. If you’re brave enough, you can also go up to people (in between sets) and ask them how the machine works — I’ve done this before, and usually they have good tips on form. And they might spot you!

I use the Strong app for keeping track of my lifts. It also has videos and diagrams of proper form with instructions. I track my food intake on a calorie app to try and optimize for my goals, but that can be triggering for some people.

If you’re afab, weightlifting especially is such a good habit to get into. You feel better, you feel stronger, and you aren’t as likely to get stuck in a weight loss/gain cycle. I lost 40+ lbs and countless inches around my waist and chest, but recently my focus has been more on what my body can do and what it looks like, and less on how much the scale reads. I eat the foods I like and have room for treats because you need to eat to fuel exercise! It’s so different from eating the tiniest possible and hitting cardio endlessly.

[hauntedministry]

I will ruin you.

Pairings: dbf!Joel Miller x afab!reader

Word count: Approx 4.5K

Summary: After a long-term relationship ended badly, you decided it was best to return home, surrounded by people you knew, and grew up with. It had been years since you’d seen Joel and had always had eyes for him but knew never to act upon it.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY! SMUT MINORS DNI!! Age gap, reader is in their 20s and Joel is in his 40s. Unprotected P in V sex (don’t be silly wrap your willy). Light degradation, ish. Brat taming kink also ish, let’s gooo (I mean dbf!Joel and brat taming go hand in hand). Spanking, risky sex, creampie, kind of stalker Joel but not really. If I can think of anymore or if you find more please let me know 🫶

A/N: This is my first fic I’ve posted so please let me know what you think! I’m also definitely not a writer this is mostly self indulgent 😅

The sun was setting as your dads pick up pulled into the driveway. You jumped out of the car and onto the pavement, there was a slight breeze that ran through your hair, it was a little chilly but still pleasant. Grabbing your bag from the front seat, you shut the door and let out a small sigh while you looked at the home where you grew up. It felt so nice to be back home. “Thanks for getting me, dad.” You say giving your dad a smile.

“Anytime sweetheart, it’s good to have you back home.” He pulled you in for a cuddle, and you felt instantly comforted. You’d missed him, barely being able to find the time to see him, let alone call. But now you had all the time in the world. He walked up to the front door and unlocked it. “After you, princess.” Your dad gestured while he stepped to the side.

“Hey come on now, enough of that, dad.” You rolled your eyes at the pet name while walking indoors. “I haven’t been ‘princess’ for years.”

“Ah well you’re still my little girl.” He replied and in response you groaned and shook your head with a smile. The last time you were able to visit home had been 3 years ago when your ex had actually given a damn about your life. You’d missed it so much. “I’ll let you get your things upstairs. Join me when you’re ready.”

“Thank you, I shouldn’t be too long!” You called down to your dad, already up the stairs and headed to your old room. You dropped your bag on the bed and sat down next to it, taking a moment to take in your surroundings. Most of things were as you left them, some decorations made you cringe as it was years since you had moved out. You then hopped off your bed and began to unpack a few items from your travel bag. The rest of your belongings were left at your exes. That was a task for another day you thought to yourself, now all you wanted was to relax.

Shortly after your dad had brought you two home, the front door was opened, then shut, then followed by a loud voice calling out to your dad. You’d investigate in a second but for now you just wanted a moment to yourself. After freshening yourself up you changed into a different outfit, a pair of charcoal mum jeans and a loose fitting baby pink sweater that you half tucked into your jeans.

You finally decided to show face and find out who the mystery visitor was. You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time before heading downstairs. After reaching the bottom step you walked into the living room and stopped in your tracks. “Oh my god, Joel?” You called out to the tall man standing next to your dad, he was wearing a simple black t-shirt that clung to his broad chest and it was paired with navy blue jeans. You didn’t think you’d see him again after he moved away so this was such a wonderful surprise. Joel and your dad had been friends for a very long time, they always helped each other out when they needed it. You hated to admit it but you had always had the hots for him for so many years. Joel turned his head towards you and also had to do a double take.

“Who the fuck is this?” He then looked back to your dad and your smile dropped, you felt a twinge of disappointment. “Ahh I’m just kiddin’ doll, c’mere!” with a grin and a chuckle, he pulled you in for a hug, his big arms wrapped around you, you instantly melted into him. You could’ve stayed there forever, his scent was intoxicating. “God it’s been like five years ain’t that right?” Joel said with his arms still wrapped around you, his chin rested softly on your head.

“Yeah it’s been a while.” You both finally broke away from the hug and you took this as an opportunity to really look him over. Gosh he was still as gorgeous as you had remembered, if not more so. “Last time I came home was about three years back, but I know you’d moved away. I didn’t think I’d see you again, what brought you back?” You ask trying to discreetly check him out, you could’ve sworn his eyes were trailing you up and down but you swiftly pushed away the thought. Joel had aged like a fine wine, his hair was growing a few more greys, his face gained more wrinkles but it suited him so well.

“Somethin’ ‘bout this place, just feels like home. Besides I had nothin’ keepin’ me back there anyway.” He caught your gaze and you snapped out of your daydreaming. Last time you’d seen him, he was head over heels for some woman, that must’ve ended or he wouldn’t be back you thought to yourself.

“I’m with you there Joel. Well I’m glad you’re back. So what’s my second favourite old man been up to?” You ask giddy with excitement and nudge his arm with your elbow.

“Old man? All this time to grow up and she still ain’t learnt any manners?” He shook his head calling to your dad who was in the kitchen and laughed, a deep belly laugh. You swear it was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. Your dad came back from the kitchen with some beer bottles, you gladly accepted as did Joel.

“It comes from a place of love I swear!” You replied with a hand on your heart and a bat of your lashes. All three of you made your way to the couch and took your places, you sat on one end of the sofa, your dad next to you and Joel on the armchair just a little off to the side. He was sat with his legs wide, his large thighs constricted in his jeans. You had to remind yourself to look away.

“I know sugar, ‘m just teasin’.” He shoots you a wink from his side of the room. “Me an’ your dad found work together, like handy stuff fixin’ things an’ the like.” He took another swig from his bottle. Your dad got up to grab some snacks from the kitchen. “How comes you’re back home then? I thought you had found your Prince Charming?” He asked, looking you over for answers.

“Oh yeah, him.” You said, your tone lowering to an almost whisper as your thumb fiddled with the rim of your bottle.

“Oh my bad, doll. I-.” Joel rubbed the back of his neck as he saw your demeanour change.

“No no, it’s fine. He was just so immature and he’d fallen out of love a long time back.” You take a moment to gather yourself before continuing. “In the end I caught him with buried balls deep in some girl.” Joel was watching you recant the memory, he felt bad but in his mind he knew he was never right for you. “Just wish I could’ve seen it coming sooner.”

“I’m sorry, that must’ve hurt real bad.” You nodded slowly looking down at your bottle. “Stupid boy don’t know what he’s lost.” Joel continued, the compliment sending a warmth through your body, why did he have to be so goddamn charming.

“Still, that part of my life’s over, now it’s time to start a new chapter. And hey, could be worse at least I’ve got my two old boys with me.” You giggled, blushing slightly making contact with Joel’s beautiful deep brown eyes.

“Ah man come on now!” He retorted with a half grin.

The evening carried on filled with remembering memories and making stupid dad jokes. You’d missed just being able to be you around people you loved and cared about. And my god was it so good to see Joel again.

————————————————————————————

Joel came to your dads almost every morning to head off to their various call outs together. One morning, you had come downstairs in your pyjamas, a black cami top and short set with a lace trim. Before the two men set out you always offered to make them a cup of coffee. Joel always gave you a wink after thanking you, in return he gave you butterflies.

On another occasion, you’d just gotten out of the shower and you were sat on the side of your bed with a towel wrapped around you, putting moisturiser on your legs when Joel came upstairs to use the bathroom. He walked past your room and your eyes met his, he stilled for a moment and you could’ve sworn he lingered a bit longer than he should’ve, but he then swiftly continued his journey to the bathroom. You smiled to yourself and bit your lip. That same night all you could think about was the way he looked at you. Needless to say your hand found its way between your legs quicker than you’d like to admit.

The next evening, your friends had invited you out for a catch up and a sort of welcome home night out together. You dressed up in a tight fitting black dress mini that sat off the shoulders with long sleeves. Paired with black strappy heels and a little black shoulder bag. You felt good to be going out with friends not worrying about how to behave or looking at someone the wrong way, just free to do what you wanted.

At the bar your group had chosen, this guy kept looking you up and down from the bar, oh boy you knew where this was leading, and you were gonna follow suit. He was cute enough and recently there was only one thing on your mind, you knew you could never get what you wanted with Joel, so random guy from the bar would make do. You headed over to the bar and ordered a drink. “Make that two!” The guy called to the bartender. You both chatted away over the loud music, not really paying attention to what he was saying anyway. Eventually you both decided to cut the bullshit and head back to yours.

When the two of you got back to your dads, you fumbled around in your purse for your key and eventually opened the door. His hands were on you immediately, pulling down the neckline of your dress exposing your breasts. Images of Joel flashed in your mind wishing it was him who was fondling you. But this would do for now as a temporary fix.

You both stumbled into the living room, the room was tinted orange from the soft glow of the streetlight outside. You bumped into the arm of the sofa and pulled him down on top of you. You were giggling but you were trying to keep quiet and you were in also in a rush, it had been so long since someone had touched you. His hands grabbed at your tits and gave your nipples a pinch. “What about your dad?” He asked between breathy kisses.”

“Sleeping, shh.” Was all you replied. He nodded and was clearly also in a hurry as his shirt was whipped off his body in a flash and then he began to unbutton his pants, he started to pull up your dress when the front door swiftly opened and clicked shut and in walked Joel fucking Miller.

You’d never asked his name, and frankly you didn’t care, but the half naked guy shot up from the sofa, fear riddled his face. “Ah shit, look man I’m sorry. She asked me to come home, I promise we weren’t gonna do anything.” He kept rambling on, trying to make up some excuse. The shock of Joel catching you like this paralysed you momentarily, unable to think or move. Then you snapped out of it and quickly pulled up the top of your dress to cover yourself.

“Get out.” Was all Joel said, his voice was deep and gravely and his eyes not leaving yours once. The guy scrambled to dress himself again and get out of the house. You grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “Hey no hang on, you can’t tell me what to do. He can stay.”you tried to stand up for yourself but the guy was already wriggling out of your grasp and headed to the door apologising profusely as he rushed past Joel. You thought Joel was gonna attack him as he was breathing heavily through his nose. Joel’s whole demeanour changed and you had never seen him like this, of course it was turning you on even more, how could it not? Joel’s eyes returned to you.

“Him, really?” He looked at you with disgust his words like venom spitting from his mouth. You clenched your thighs together. God why did this make you even hornier?

“Oh my god, Joel, you’re not my dad!” Your hands covered your face from embarrassment. “Why are you here anyway it’s like one in the morning?” You asked him trying to keep your voice down.

“Your dad left his tools at mine, he needs them early, and I couldn’t sleep.” He nonchalantly replied. Your eyes dropped down to see the toolbox in hand. Okay it was a bit of a weird alibi but you went along with it. “So I thought I’d be nice and drop ‘em off for him. But don’t go changin’ the subject, you’ve not even been home a week? And you’re already causin’ trouble. I knew you hadn’t changed.” He spat at you with disgust. “Lettin’ some silly little boy get his hands on you in your dads home, while he’s asleep? He’ll be so disappointed.” Joel’s head turned in the direction of the stairs.

“No, no, no no no.” You waved your hands out in-front of you. “Seriously though, you’re not gonna tell him?” You looked at him searching for an answer. “Joel what the fuck? I can do what I fucking want, if I want to fuck someone I can, it’s my body I’ll do what I want with it.”

“Shut your mouth!” He suddenly grabbed you by the throat and squeezed ever so slightly. Fear shook your body but you could feel your wetness pooling, you clenched your thighs again to feel some form of release. A moan was caught in your throat, and then it hit you. The realisation. Joel was jealous.

“You fucking pervert, Miller.” You said to him. Joel only squeezed tighter. “You just didn’t like the thought of me with another guy, that’s right isn’t it? You’re a jealous old man.” He pushed you back down onto the sofa by the throat. His hand felt so good wrapped around your neck, you were disappointed by the loss.

“I said shut your fucking mouth you little brat.” His body caged you in as he towered over you and pointed a thick finger to your face.

“Make me.” You bravely replied, with an eyebrow raised. You were almost challenging him.

“You really wanna try that shit with me?” Joel’s eyes had darkened and his voice deepened.

“I said, make, me”. You repeated and then a sharp slap stung you across the left side of your face then his large hand grabbed your jaw. Your eyes widened with shock, once more you found yourself squeezing your thighs together.

“Fuckin’ knew you were still a little brat. And the way you been walkin’ round wearin’ next to fuckin’ nothin’. You knew exactly what you were doin’ ain’t that right doll? Knew I couldn’t keep my eyes off ya.” Joel grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled you back up, he then took your spot and brought you down over his knee. His large hands pulled up the skirt of your dress exposing your ass to him. He brought his hand down on your cheek a loud slap echoed through the living room. A sharp gasp broke through your mouth, his hand felt so good, the sting painful but pleasurable at the same time. You bit your lower lip hard stopping yourself from moaning and god forbid waking up your dad. Joel quietly chuckled. “You’re lovin’ this ain’t you doll? You filthy little thing.” You nodded and moved your hips trying to grind yourself against his thigh. “This what you wanted? How many times you thought about me? ‘Bout the things I could do to you? Huh?”

“T- too many.” You replied shamefully, your face and ass stinging from the contact. He continued spanking you making your behind tender and sore. He then yanked down your black panties exposing your aching pussy to him. You were ashamed just how much this was turning you on, you were dripping.

“Such a pretty little cunt. Dripping for me and I’ve not even touched you yet.” He then pressed two fingers against your folds to smear your juices around. A soft moan came from your mouth. “Mmm, could bury myself in you right now you’re so wet.”

“Joel, please I need you. I need you so bad.” You whined, aching for him. He then helped you up off his knee and turned you to face him. His hands made quick work of helping you out of your dress, when it reached the floor you stepped out and kicked it away.

“Look at you. So perfect.” Joel complimented as his hand palmed his growing bulge. “I will ruin you. Do you realise that, doll? Are you sure that’s want you want?” Joel questioned. “I’m tellin’ ya now sugar, if we do this I ain’t gonna be able to stop myself.” You could tell that he needed you just as much as you needed him. “All you’ll be able to think about is how my cock tears your pretty little pussy up.”

“Joel, please.” You begged, he looked at you with an eyebrow raised. “I’ve wanted you for so long you have no idea.” Under the soft orange street light you could see a devilish grin plastered across his face. “Always thought about what you could do to me.” You watched as Joel began undressing himself, he pulled down his jeans and his boxers. His thick cock sprung free and slapped against his stomach. You bit your lip as you watched it twitch. His hand gripped his length and he began pumping gently. Joel’s free hand was on you once more as he turned you around and guided your throbbing core over him.

“Now, sugar, you’re gonna fuck yourself on me, show me how bad you want this.” Your cheeks flushed red as you lifted a leg up onto the sofa for balance as you lowered yourself onto him. The stretch he provided was painful yet deliciously, you whimpered while you accommodated his thickness. “Ooh my, g- god.” He moaned as you finally took all of him inside. His hands found their way under your ass to help you as you started to bounce.

“Fuck, Joel.” You whined as you rode him. “You feel so big.” Soft sounds of skin slapping could be heard as Joel began to match your rhythm. He wrapped an arm around your waist and his hand found purchase on your breast, he squeezed firmly.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good for me, doll.” Joel whispered his praise to you as you bounced on his cock. “If only your daddy knew what his precious little angel was doing right now.” As if on cue, your dads bedroom door opened and then his shuffling footsteps slowly followed him down the stairs. “Shh, shhh. Gotta keep quiet babygirl.” Joel whispered in your ear. “Can’t have your daddy finding you like this can we?” He pulled you down to lay beside him, hiding both of you behind the big cushions on the sofa. His left hand was clamped tight around your mouth and his right was working at your clit, rubbing perfect circles that sent waves of pleasure all over your body. Joel had you pressed tight against his chest, he was still stuffed balls deep inside you, slowly thrusting. Your eyes rolled back, as Joel’s lips attacked your neck, sucking on the same spot. Your dad had reached the bottom of the stairs and then switched on the light in the kitchen and the tap began to run.

Joel continued to fuck you painfully slowly. Each trust driving you insane with need, he’d pull his hips back so his tip was barely inside then he’d push all the way in. A squeal escaped from your mouth through Joel’s hand and your eyes widened. The tap stopped running. Your heart plummeted. Joel only continued rubbing your clit. You tried to swat his hand away, afraid you wouldn’t be able to keep quiet. He of course ignored you and the action only spurred him on more. The coil in your stomach began to tighten, you knew what was coming. Joel could feel it too, your walls fluttering around him, he rubbed your clit faster to get you closer. You were trapped under his hold, unable to do anything but give in to the pleasure he was providing. Then it hit you, your eyes shut tight as you came harder than you ever had before, his hand pressed harder into your face as more moans left your mouth. Your legs spasmed and trembled from the aftershock. Joel then removed his hand from your clit but he still continued thrusting, working you through your orgasm as your walls clenched around him, Joel huffed and bit down on your earlobe even he was trying to control himself.

Finally your dad left the kitchen, but he paused by the living room for what felt like forever, then he turned and ascended the staircase. As soon as the bedroom door clicked shut Joel pulled out and you almost cried at the loss. He shimmied out from behind you and got off the couch. He then wrapped his muscular arms around your legs and roughly pulled you towards the edge of the sofa and you let out a soft giggle. Joel then spread your legs apart allowing him better access, he positioned himself in front of your cunt and rubbed his painfully hard cock against for folds, slapping it against your clit occasionally. He then aligned his cock with your entrance and slammed his hips forward, knocking the air out of your lungs. He relentlessly rutted into you, his balls slapping against your ass. “Bet’cha that stupid little boyfriend of yours couldn’t make you feel this good?” Joel’s tone was lowered, but you could hear the need in his words, the need to please you.

You violently shook your head. “He never made me cum.” You admitted. “He couldn’t do it. I always faked it too.” You felt guilty but it was the truth, he just couldn’t get you over the edge. A low chuckle came from Joel at your admission.

“Fuckin’ knew he was useless.” Joel grinded into you, his tone almost angry, his eyes were trained on your cunt. You looked down too and watched as his thick length repeatedly disappeared inside you. That familiar feeling deep inside began to build once more. Joel moaned also losing himself in the pleasure. “Mmm, gonna cum for me again aren’t you?” You moaned a mhm as a pathetic response unable to form your words. You reached out to grab onto the back of the sofa with one hand, the other pressed flat against the cushions to steady yourself. Your mind was dizzy with lust and desire as the band snapped and tingles coursed through your body. “See that, fuck babygirl, you can’t fake that, how tight your pussy grips me. Feels like heaven.” He groaned at how your cunt contracted around him tightly.

You watched Joel’s face as he slowed his pace to pull back a little. He lowered his head slightly and then spit onto your pussy, his saliva trailed down from your clit to your entrance. Joel groaned as he then fucked into you hard and fast. “Oh- oh my go- god!” You moaned out in breathy rasps.

“Looked so pretty at the bar, sugar.” Joel mumbled. “The way you were dancin’, knew I had to have you.” He continued, your eyes widened and your eyebrows raised. “Then that pathetic idiot got his hands on you, I could barely watch, nearly gave him a black eye right there.” Joel fully gave into his need and continued slamming his cock into you again and again.

Joel’s thrusts then started becoming sloppy, his rhythm was lost as his climax was closing in. “Fuck, doll, don’t think I’m gonna last much longer.” He pants, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Seeing him losing his control would probably have been enough to make you cum again. You placed a hand on the side of his neck and pulled him down closer you, his hand gripped your waist and his other pressed against the back of the sofa. The angle was perfect, causing you to become even tighter for him. A deep moan erupted from Joel as he was nearing his release. He removed his hand that was on your waist and brought his thumb to your mouth. “Open.” He ordered, and you obeyed, opening your mouth to allow his thumb inside. You sucked on it and he pulled it out with a pop. He began rubbing your clit with his wet thumb, your legs quivered from the contact.

You could tell Joel was trying to stop himself from spilling into you, but he didn’t need to hold on much longer as your own climax finally broke through. You couldn’t hold it in anymore and a string of pornographic moans came from you. Joel couldn’t last any longer either, the way your cunt squeezed him after your orgasm sent him over the edge. He too moaned loudly as his hips jerked while he unloaded himself deep inside you. He fell forwards slightly and used his hand that was pressed against the sofa to balance himself, Joel stilled momentarily to catch his breath before quickly pulling out.

Joel’s eyes were locked on your face, he thought you looked perfect. “I could watch this forever.” His gaze then broke and trailed down to your puffy cunt, cum was leaking out of your hole. He reached his right hand and his finger traced up and down smearing his juices all over. “You look so pretty like this, all fucked out an’ silly, and it’s all for me.”

You were still comprehending what had just happened when Joel bent down and placed a soft kiss to your temple. “You did so good for me, doll.” He praised, then he grabbed his pants and dressed himself. He shot you a wink and left you on the sofa dripping and fucked out of your mind. The front door quietly clicked shut and you heard the soft hum of his engine fade away.

Thank you for reading! 🖤

[tinycozycomfort]

rest in the cup of my palms (part three)

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x art student f!reader

chapter three: compromise

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

series summary: you went back to school to find out who you are—to make another leap in the hope of self discovery. when you finally find that first glimpse of yourself, it’s in someone else. what happens when the mirror tries to pull you in? or  you’re everything joel could’ve hoped to find. he doesn’t let go easily.

chapter summary: joel helps you work through your doubts.

warnings/tags: no outbreak, no use of y/n, (for everything) -> mutual pining!, possessive behavior, smut, ellie is joel's daughter, ellie and reader attend the same university but reader is in post-grad, age gap (joel is late 40s, reader is not), alternating pov, slow-ish burn / (for this chapter) -> sad thoughts about fatherhood, idolization!!, oral sex (f receiving), edging

word count: 5k

rating: explicit (18+ only! mdni)

A/N: thank you for your patience and thank you as always for reading! and special thank you to @pascalisbaby for bearing with me as i cried my way through this i love u

read on ao3 / main masterlist

“For the first time, I could clearly perceive the nature of feelings and emotions—I physically felt their consistency… the surge of a wave, the crumbling of a cliff… I understood the necessity of comparisons and metaphors using water and fire.”

Annie Ernaux, Simple Passion

───────

Minutes go by, but sluggishly, painfully—a dull crawl that mimics the cinematic use of slow-motion. The fracturing feels pre-climactic and almost momentous, too-long strides of seconds that pave the way for something grand. 

In reality, you’re just waiting; in this barely-lit, one shot hallway, aptly partnered by a life-sized amount of discomfort. You feel like a piece of something sprouted up from cement, forced into a mold not made with you in mind—love and like and candy-sweet, feverish feelings—unable to be removed now that you’ve grown in over the lip. Reaching for the sun. And he’s beautiful above you, radiant enough to burn behind closed eyelids—the image that shines there a carefully chosen snapshot that only adds height to where he hangs in the sky.

You’ve become so tired already, from the work-up and the frustration and the effort to stop it—like being outside all day with no reprieve until sunset; he’s that strong. It’s been restraint, followed by actions that negate it, followed by reinstating restraint, and still it doesn’t stop daylight from happening. Morning and high noon and six-o-clock oranges will never stop happening, so why not free yourself of the excessive rumination and the fighting? You’d much rather try to brave him—sunscreen and shade and a flat hand above your brow. Trying is good, easy, uncomplicated. Tonight, you can try. This is a good idea.

He’ll be here soon to prove it, too—on his way to come collect you, confirmed by the oblong rectangle of text on the brick clutched in your fist.

You move enough that it wakes up again, ’Fifteen minutes.’ flashing across its face, burning under the pad of your thumb. The thing is overheating now, somehow having absorbed some of the furious twisting of your excitement, and you shove it deep into your bag to let it cool—too honest of a mirror.  

You will your body to restart, moving back out onto the yard in search of Ian, to warn him of your exit—the only courtesy you have enough patience to give—frantic to get to the good part. 

You find him out by the flame, one foot resting on the brick-lined ledge of the pit, a still-full beer bottle tight in his grip. It’s tepid, too, if the lack of condensation is any indication. You curl your nose and he tips the top towards you, a waft of sour citrus pouring out. 

“What happened? My friend came back very upset that you were gone,” he teases, cocking a smile and rolling his neck over in question, languid and unserious.

“I’m leaving, actually. Didn’t want to go without saying.” You knock the bottle with the back of your hand until it threatens to spill over in the other direction. It’s unoffending, really, a nervous reaction, but it has him visibly questioning what ten minutes out of view had done to make you so taut.

He straightens up minutely at your unrest, only enough to reel back his exaggerated demeanor without drawing looks, “Are you good to drive? I haven’t had any of this yet—I can take you home.” 

“I’m not driving. I’ve got a ride.” 

“With?”

“Joel’s going to come get me.” 

His eyes widen, mouth spreading with what you’re sure are five too many questions, so you stop him before he can continue—afraid to mar his night with what you imagine would be too much to navigate right now, “I’ll explain tomorrow. Text me when you get home. I love you. I’m fine.” 

Part of you—a part that has no say right now—feels guilty for doing this to him a second time, for putting your friend through another half-witnessed, poorly justified fit of emotional anguish. He was the one who brought you here, to get away from this very thing, but somewhere in your bag there’s a faint stir, hard vibration jostling the contents, and you fail to think Ian through, again.

He’s barely even started to nod before you turn, slipping through the side gate and out onto the lawn. 

It only takes another handful of stretched-out moments—time lost completely on you now—before opaque beams cast across the curve of the street from the top of the cul-de-sac. They drop off into low-lights once the driver registers your presence and you push forward on shaky legs, knees locking—blood having gathered in your chest from anticipation, sloshing around your heart and cutting off circulation to your limbs. 

The vehicle—a truck—passes you, hitting the end of the block and returning up the drive, passenger door addressing you when it stops, your reflection warped in its convex surface. The window rolls down with a whir, and Joel’s face appears in the slit, eyes tired and hair flattened unintentionally—you absolutely woke him up. 

You let yourself in, hiking up a static-logged leg to settle in the seat before he pulls off back onto the street. It’s silent for too long, and you’re returning to a familiar feeling of acceptance, just like all the nights in your past where you’d admitted to yourself that you were going home with someone, driven by fuzzy feelings of instant connection and promise. It makes him easier to grasp—more human-like.

“You were asleep,” you mumble sheepishly, acknowledging his unpreparedness in an attempt to forgive your own. 

“‘Wasn’t supposed to be. I was waiting up for Ellie. I—uh, I thought you were her when you called.” 

He sounds just as level as he had on the phone, fingers rapping rhythmically on the steering wheel, “She texted a few hours ago to let me know she was out for the night. I fell asleep before I could see it.” 

Joel tucks the corner of his elbow in the window, laying his cheek on curled knuckles, and you chance a real glance at him for the first time. 

His dark blue t-shirt is wrinkled where it had been bunched at the torso, hanging limply now over a pair of rumpled jeans. Creases of sofa or pillow-case run up like tendrils on the skin of his arm, pressed in at various degrees of depth—restless enough to continue to pivot, even in repose. 

He looks homey, spun out of flesh-colored wool thread and plush, unlike the fatigue you’d seen on him in the classroom, or the buzz of anxious tension on the side of the school a few days ago. Here he’s just Joel, free of the idea of him or his actions; just-awake Joel with nothing to say except the truth. Pressure sits weighted on your shoulders, lingering guilt from choosing to savor, even if within the safety of emotional distance. It’s okay to look, isn’t it? Although looking isn’t all you had in mind.

“Can we go to your house?” 

“Did you drink?” 

Joel peers over his shoulder at you, and he looks meek but not small, like the question itself isn’t embarrassing but the act of asking it is. Oh. You remember your last encounter, how you’d blamed your exit on the wine, and your heart constricts at the idea that he’s asking because he’s afraid you’ll leave again. In all honesty, you wish you could leave, be strong-willed enough to have him let you out a block from your front door, never to be seen again. But you’re weak, at the mercy of your need to test your limits, your brain dipping into its reserve while your body fights to feign presence, hands rolling into fists in your lap.

“No. I haven't gone out much since the break started. Decided against getting fucked up.” 

He hums, satisfied, eyes falling ahead. The tires grind under you, lulling you into another tense quiet until he’s pulling up to the front of a well-kept, stone-faced home at the end of a short street. You lean forward to see more of it beyond the curve of the windshield, lined in copper trim with fender-shaped dents bruising the cover of the garage. It’s a call-back to grade school—what limited experience you had traversing the suburbs as a child—visiting friends in large, traditional houses with pretty concrete fountains and security-alarm signs forced into panels of fresh grass. 

Joel steps out and comes around the car to open your door before you have the chance to do it yourself, popping open the handle and stilling for a second before just stepping out of your way, perhaps in the sake of not being overly cliche. You try to appear unaffected by the notion, climbing down with a smile and sealing the door behind you, but you inwardly relish in his considered movements—he’s taming himself for you.

He leads you into the house—as quaint as it seemed to be—smelling warm and peppery like heat-soaked wood. It’s very much lived in, riddled with evidence of use—scuff marks at the threshold and smudged fingerprints in the dark paint on the walls where boots were taken off with the assistance of a grip. A side table brackets one side of the entrance, littered with bobbles and keys and a few other store-bought treasures. At its closest foot are several pairs of little sneakers, piled tall and wide on a wedge of rug, too narrow to be Joel’s. 

Ellie. 

There are signs of her everywhere, this faceless extension of him, her name scribbled on a few papers on the table and in the corners of framed drawings in the hallway; gorgeous hand, she has—all of the figures looking as true to life as they could, even when confined to paper cages. She lines the edges of their domicile, a path of lovingly curated representations of her, right down to a monogrammed leather sketchbook that sits on the dining table. 

And everywhere she is, he follows. Parts of him loom over her place-holders—guitar picks marked J in a dish with a box of charcoal nubs, a rolled up wad of button-up laid over a dark green backpack, a men’s watch sharing space on the counter with two tiny drops of backed silver. He watches over her within the borders of every container, open and solidly present behind her like a tough-knit net—ready to catch.

You step out of your shoes and he walks further in the house with haste, knocking around in what you assume is the kitchen when he returns with a glass of water.

“For you,” as he passes it, “Just in case.” 

“Thank you.” 

He curls a thumb into a belt loop at his waist, body teetering awkwardly as he watches you drink. You note the more-than-safe distance he’s put between you, the same kind he had implemented last week between his heart-wrenching confession and the point where this entanglement had escalated.

“Okay, so. I’m going to change. Do you want something too?” 

You can’t help but smile, a nervous laugh held tight in your throat, “Yes, we can go to your room.” 

Even in the dark, you don’t miss the flush of red along his jaw, the same shade he’d worn in the gallery, wine-soaked and unpracticed. 

You flinch inwardly. How is it that you are remembering so much about him when he’s existed in your world for less time than should be notable? Only two interactions, now three, but they’ve earned their slot in your fondest of memories; nothing substantial provided still, and he casts your sunrises and warms your earth. You fear what touching him again will do to you.

Joel smiles something shy back, walking past you and motioning for you to do the same. He leads you back through the display, minding the little shoes as he climbs up the steps. 

There are photos lining the staircase, less symbolic than the downstairs decorations, but just as revealing. A few of Joel and another man, similar in stature with a full smile and thick, slicked back hair, clasping shoulders or standing pin-straight side by side at different ages in mall-kiosk, christmas card style. Another of a young girl, all teeth and sparse freckles and pale cheeks. She’s wearing a cap and gown, shiny polyester catching in the flash, edges hazy with blur. 

That’s her. His daughter. You’ve seen her, you realize, from a few modeling sessions you’d done when you offered to cover for the younger students. You already knew her, too, floating around more than a few hellos on the days you’d sat for her like a silent idol. It feels odd to be in her home now, the two of you connected in a way she hasn’t come to partake in quite yet. She’s been at the head of your conversations with Joel until now—in this moment when she’s here but not here—and you wonder how much he’s considered her place in all this. You should at least thank her, you suppose; nod at her picture in prayer or cross your fingers that you might actually get to meet her—see her again, rather—and get to say it to her face.

Joel walks ahead of you as you linger, unbothered by your interest. You’re glad he does when you reach the last row. 

A larger frame bookends the slideshow, standing alone in its unique appearance. It’s hand-made, a thin string of painted ferns on the edges, the wings of something like a butterfly or moth wrapping over the right-hand corner, precise and niche enough to be nothing other than a gift. The picture inside is of the two of them together, happy and puffy-cheeked with their arms wrapped around each other, back-lit in front of some kind of museum display. 

Pure joy. His comfort. 

A swell of pain lodges in your ribs, eyes drawing wet. He’s losing her, you think, in a way he hasn’t even begun to realize. He's missed so much of her life—at no fault of their own—and will pursue her future as a bystander. You long to give him some kind of relief in that, maybe out of pity or maybe out of need. You wanted to be on your own, you wanted to be separated from everyone else out of spite for letting your family and your ex tower over you, heavy-handing their influence in false gestures of kindness. Not loving. Never loving—only present in best interests and helpful advice. Things that gave you purpose and points. Who was tallying? What have you to show for it now? 

You only ever wanted acceptance from them, to be recognized as a person instead of as a student or a daughter or a girlfriend—to be able to transcend role and become an active participant. 

It’s too perfect, this thing you each individually lack; what comes of someone who cares and someone who needs caring? 

“Hey.” Joel calls from the end of the room, pulling you out of your dissection of his life, voice soft like he’s seeing an apparition he’s unsure is there. 

“Hi.” You whisper, walking towards him, ignoring his tentative boundary, “You know, I did everything in my power to not call you.” There’s no point in keeping secrets now, from him or yourself. 

He crowds you in the doorway, body slumping on the line of his spine so he can entrap you more securely, u-shaped shoulders and outward facing palms, “Why did you call?”

“I couldn’t help it,” and before he can interrupt, “Joel, I need you to know that this isn’t going to end well.” 

“End? Have we started?” 

“We were doing this before we both knew it, I think. That’s what you were talking about, right—like we’ve met before?” 

“That’s right.” He’s breathing shallowly, unable to hide his desire for proximity now that you’ve allowed him more than he started with, chest moving back and forth like the breeze of the heater is enough to push his tide, “And I meant it.”

“So did I.” 

“Then what are you so scared of? If it’s familiar?” His knee knocks into the slice of thigh above yours. He’s getting closer. 

“Just because I want you now doesn’t mean I should have you.”

“What if I want you to have me?”

“Even worse.” The heat of his face leaks out onto yours and you open yourself to it—the hot sun in July, the boiling rain of mid-summer, all encompassing and working hard to bring you up to temperature so you can burn along with it. Setting you ablaze. 

You lean up, the tip of your nose catching on the stubble lining his jaw, careful to not break eye contact for longer than the briefest moment, nudging him in short taps. 

“I do, though, honey. I think you know I do.” His knee pushes between yours, digging into the joint of your leg to unfold you, the rough denim over his zipper dragging across the knob of your hip.

You curl a hand around the fabric covering his stomach, wrinkling it past the point of correction as it folds under the damp of your fist. He’s far from at length now, both nothing of what you intended and exactly what you wanted. He’s thrilled about it too, seemingly—the muscle under his torso fluttering when your nails drag against him. 

He’s everything again, everywhere, soft tanned skin and jeans he came up here to ‘change out of’, the invisible halo around him swallowing you, coaxing you into his orbit. You want all of it, piece by piece and for all he’s worth. 

“I don’t want to waste you,” you murmur, and there’s that unashamed boldness again, honesty rushing out like an unsupervised beast. Joel wraps his thick fingers around the side of your neck, thumb pushing into soft cheek, between rows of teeth and over skin, pushing them apart. 

His eyes are glossy, like he’s just gotten up from a long sleep, gauzy and sloppy and sticky. His mouth hangs open to mimic yours as he speaks, “You couldn’t. I have an endless amount to give,” and then he’s licking the outline of your open lips, slipping his tongue in to press along the roof of your mouth and up up up to the back of your teeth. He’s puffing hard out of his nose, dipping in and out of your split, licking even the pad of his thumb where it pokes through the hollow, touching himself inside you. 

His free hand grips the top of your ribs, leading you backwards towards the bed until you’re seated at the edge of it, his back curved harshly to continue to taste you. 

You’re kissing him back, you know that, but your thoughts float up to cloud your pleasure and you’re getting ahead of yourself all over again. What does he want? Why does he want it? Would he be upset to learn you’re trying to give him less? You flip the hem of his shirt between your forefinger and thumb, toes curling against the carpet—walking that line of self-doubt. 

He breaks away, so careful again even with no clear need to be, “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m just nervous.” 

“About now? Or about me?”

“Both.”

“Just talk to me, then. Tell me why we shouldn’t—we can work through it together. Let me take some of that worry off of you.”

Joel braces a knee on the corner of the mattress to hold himself steady, gripping you under the joints of your shoulders and pulling you towards the center of the bed. He deposits your body like nothing, kneeling at the apex of your thighs. 

Your voice shakes, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

He works at the buttons on your shirt with long fingers, drawing it over the hills of your shoulders until your collar rolls in on itself from the force, falling away. Joel wraps the layer over the panel of your jacket and pulls, undressing you like he has to memorize how to be able to put you back together. He does the same with your bra, achingly slow, but you can feel tiny tremors in his wrist as it runs against your back. 

You just watch for a minute, unable to link what he’s doing to reality, arms feeling weak like the dull ache of a full-body cold, akin to sickness. 

“Go on, honey. Only gonna keep going as long as you do.”

“I— I feel connected to you. I don’t want to.” 

He closes his eyes and bobs his head, I understand, and your body starts to feel numb at your core, pulsing so violently it prompts you to roll your ankle to make sure you haven’t left it behind. 

“More,” he pants, running fully-spread hands over every piece of bare skin, your nipples pulling tight as the motions move from gentle to greedy, passing to tugging. 

“I can’t do this again. I have a hard time letting go. What if you want me for the wrong reason and I can’t hate you for it?” 

He pops the button of your pants, lifting you up off the bed to take the garment down and off, dipping his fingers into the rim of each of your socks on the way to remove them at the same time.

You push your forefingers into the band of your underwear, but Joel meets your hand as you start, winding a finger around the lace and pulling opposite so they catch—leave these on. 

You comply, but you know you’re already wet through them, know that he can see it, and you can’t decide if you want him to know his effect on you, legs buckling in no clear direction; but he feels so good, and he’s almost where you want him, and he’s waiting for you to keep talking, so you lean into the heat. You spread.

“It’s easy to tell myself you’re different once I’m in it. But it never works out right. I get too attached.” 

Joel settles in, shouldering the left side of his body under your thigh to bring you open further, wrapping his arm around it and letting a hand situate against your belly. He turns his right palm away from himself, flattening it like a warning sign before he pushes it against the crease of your cunt, rubbing in slow circles with the curve of his fingers, right under the points. You thrash, trying to force him just an inch up to where you’re throbbing, but he doesn’t budge—he’s making you earn it.

“What if you just want me because you think you need someone to take care of? What if you find out you feel better alone?”

He dips two fingers into your cunt through the film of your underwear, shallow but firm—more than just curious. You feel like you might just come from this, from just the suggestion of him. 

He uses his forearm to butt against the underside of your thigh, prompting you to lift it towards your chest, and he leans down to cup your clit into his mouth, fabric and all. His mouth is searing with the aid of the material, a tight suction that insulates the heat he’s expelling. 

You’re heaving now, light-headed and loose as broad strokes of his tongue soak the already tainted cloth, the extra stimulation from its drag enough to make your head spin. You’re sure that if you breathe any harder your chest will cave in.

“Hm?” He asks against you, demanding, the vibration of it setting your skin alight, and you force your nails into the dip of your hand to keep your mind in the room. You’re stuttering, but it’s not enough of a response, so he leans back—cruel and merciless. 

“What did I say?” he coos, left hand pinching into the swell of flesh at your side.

It stings but you gasp, eager to take, even if the attention so so far away from where it should be, and you have to count your breaths out in groups of five to come back into focus. 

“What if I’m willing to take what you give me? Does that ruin the safety I’ve built for myself?” you whisper, and finally he peels back the curtain of fabric, only enough to present your entrance, rough fingers greeting your opening with no resistance, twisting and hooking them so just the tips are fixed inside. He positions himself above his hand, spitting onto your still-covered clit, watching it slide down and gather where you join. It’s unnecessary, with how much slick you know is pooled there, trailing down onto the sheets under you, but you chalk it up to just having another piece of him inside of you—you’ll gladly accept it.

You’re so very close, and he can tell, maybe from the shake in your hoisted leg or the lack of time in between airy cries, and he just slides in, right to the first knuckle. No room to be ready.

The sound of blood rushing in your ears is so loud you don’t hear yourself when you start begging. You writhe under the hold he has on you, relieved and overwhelmed and a few inches from your soul pouring right out of your body.

And then he’s not moving again, lessening the recovery time he’s willing to allow you, and you try to dig through the fog of arousal to find real words, but your mind can only conjure up a single-syllable sentence as you beg him to relent. 

He frees himself from the clutch of your leg, shimmying out so he can use his unsodden hand to cradle your head, the weight of your skull limp in his palm, “You can do it. Get it all off your chest.”

Joel presses his thumb up under your cheek, pulling at the crease of your lips like he can will you to speak with force alone. 

“I can’t. Please. Just finish.”

“You have something else you want to say. I don’t take kindly to giving up. C’mon.”

He gives you a half-step, reminding you part of him is still within you, fingers curling up against the soft muscle and you skip over a hard inhale. 

“How am I supposed to know what I’m up against if you won’t tell me?” He says it like it’s obvious, like this is some very common step in relationship-building—finger-fucking you as a reward for confessing your skepticism. 

You’re tense, holding the whole of your body in one, tiny scrap of you and it feels like you’ve entered some kind of limbo, suspended in the place between tension and relief, so close to falling that you’re not sure you want either of them. 

He angles himself again, pushing his entire heft into your hip with a wide hand so he can fit himself flat against the bed, mouth hovering over your cunt again. He exhales hard over you, the fingers still tucked in your cunt moving as he adjusts. 

“Please?” He begs sweetly, high enough on the end that you know he’s mocking you, “You can do better than please.”

You huff hard, swallowing thickly—trying again, “What if you—What if—,” you manage, and the lead-up must be convincing enough because he bows again, body fully flat so he can latch on to your clit with his mouth, lips closing tight around the bud through cotton and sucking hard, the hand inside you stirring to life, his twisted positive reinforcement serving you well.

“Fuck, Joel. Fuck—What if you make me love you, just to leave me?” 

Your ankle drifts down to find purchase against his waist, and you can feel him moving, working himself into the mattress. In the chaos, you’d forgotten about his want, and being reminded of his ability to take makes your sweat run cold. He could fuck you now, and instead he’s fucking the bed thinking about you—even bringing you to completion is enough to make him chase release. You lean your head back behind your shoulders, your orgasm overtaking you one harsh wave at a time, stomach filling with thick, hot syrup. You push your teeth so deep into your lip there has to be blood but you can’t taste it, all of your senses honed onto where he’s unraveling you, shrinking in on itself in preparation to violently burst.

He weighs in, now that you’re already cresting, “I won’t leave you, sweetheart. Not now that I know what you need.” 

His admission, his promise, is enough to make you see white, pushing your peak into overstimulation far too soon, and you have to be crying or begging or something because he immediately slows, winding you down in an organic way—taking his time leading you past bliss. 

He pulls his hand free of you, sliding his grip over the damp, half-mounted fabric and peeling it away, hand circling your calf to maneuver you gently.

You’re fully naked now, and when he rolls over to stand at the foot of the bed, you remember he’s still clothed. There he is, above you again like he brings the dawn, bent shirt and uneven waistband and shiny slip over his lips.

It looks different from your memory though, here he looks inexplicably pained, face wrinkled, and then settles another reminder—he hadn’t come.

“Wait, Joel.” 

He doesn’t answer, just recedes to another part of the room you can’t see over your heap of arms and legs. 

You’re still swallowing ragged mouthfuls of air, not quite normal, when he reappears, the feeling of hot cloth against your still fragile cunt makes you writhe.

“Joel.” 

“Yes?” 

“You didn’t get to… finish,” you mutter, and how you’re too embarrassed to address his arousal even after what just transpired is beyond you. 

“No need to rush anything. I can take care of myself for now, plenty of time to get to that point.”

“What now, then?” 

“Sleep with me. I can take you home if you want, or to your car, but I would much rather if you stayed.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’ve never been more certain of anything.”

[simstorian-blog]

1 Torrendi Tower

(CC List + Links)

[Note: Light switches, for the Ravasheen hidden lights, are near the doors in the bathrooms)

World Map: San Myshuno

Area: Fashion District

Lot Size:  40 x 30

Amenities:

A Bar

Bowling (4 Lanes)

Bubble Tea Counter

Karaoke (1 main room, 4 private rooms)

Restaurant

Outdoor Performance Stage

Gallery ID: Simstorian-ish

Packs Needed

Expansion Packs

City Living

Get Together

Get To Work

Growing Together

High School Years

Island Living

Lovestruck

For Rent

Snowy Escape

Game Packs

Dine Out

Journey to Batuu (Only debug wires)

Jungle Adventure

Spa Day

Strangerville

Stuff Packs

Bowling

Moschino Stuff

Kits

Desert Luxe

Party Essentials (Only 1 light)

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Carl’s Dine Out Reloaded

City Vibes Lot Trait Collection

Lock/Unlock Doors for Any Lot

MC Command Center

Spawn Refresh

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[All credits go to the following creators for sharing their work with the community. It is greatly appreciated and I hope that you all have endless nights of the best sleep ever.]

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[twwings]

so I spent the last few months just marathoning The Magnus Archives??? I was curious and I have a long-ish commute that I need to fill with audio, so I went for it. I was somewhat spoiled by fanart I saw randomly over the years but not entirely spoiled, and I quite enjoyed it. Some thoughts (both positive and negative thoughts below) because I wanted to write them down as I chew over the show. Also my ramblings might be pleasurable to folks who are big fans and enjoy hearing about people listening to their thing for the first time?

Spoilers for all of TMA, but as I haven't listened to The Magnus Protocol yet (I'm sure I will) no spoilers for that.

thoughts in no particular order:

didn't know that my trypophobia could be activated aurally! thanks, season one. it's good to learn about yourself

because I had seen lots of fanarts around, I knew that Jon/Martin would eventually be a canon thing, so I just spent the early episodes making fun of Jon whenever he was mean about Martin. Jon would be like "ugh, Martin, amirite?" and I'd yell at the car speakers like "lol you're gonna MARRY that guy"

sometimes I found the show a little boring or too expositiony (like the episode where Leitner shows up) and it made me think a lot about the conditions of production, like, having fans who were super into the show and red stringing it up clearly made them want to explain things sometimes in a way not necessary to the story - or, at least, it didn't feel necessary to me as a casual listener who was coming in after the fact and not part of the fandom. maybe it felt necessary for other folks, or to the cast and crew at the time.

relatedly, oh god, I did not keep up with all the plotlines and stuff. like it took me a WHILE to realize that the show was not just gonna be standalone/anthology stuff and would have an overarching plot so I did not pay attention early on to repeated names or plots. and because I was listening on my commute I was like "welp, can't google it, gonna let it go" and I did. I'm here to tell you that the magnus archives is still enjoyable even if you don't care that much about what's going on

when I did really start to care was the end of season four/season five. absolutely love that they went there with the end of season four (I thought it'd just be a buffy-style "now we fight a BIGGER big bad at the end of this season" escalation forever, but no, they unleashed hell on earth, baller move, A+, loved it

so I was spoiled that Martin (and Jon? I wasn't sure) died at some point, though I didn't really know where or how. I also saw someone post something like "oh TMA, great show, too bad it ends after five minutes into episode 160" so from that I kind of extrapolated that Martin died in episode 160? so my experience of listening to that one was REALLY on tenterhooks because the first five minutes was Martin going for a nice walk! and then Jon getting taken over by the statement! so while listening to the middle bit of 160 I was convinced that when Martin came back from his walk Jon was gonna kill him (while possessed, obviously) as part of the ritual thing. so really the following 40 episodes of Martin being alive were pretty sweet to me. Every episode after that when Martin was alive I was like, score, bonus, love it, I'm glad Jon didn't stab him three seconds after they got into a relationship

kept listening for a physical description of Jon to match all the fanart and never got one? I guess the fanon of what Jon looks like is just super consistent for some reason?

hated Tim, I can't disguise it, I hated Tim and I was glad when he died and I was glad he didn't come back, sorry Tim fans, live your truth and I will live mine

wish there weren't so many cops on this show, tho the show did seem to recognize that a little in S5 and try to do some things about it

I'm just a huge sucker for every genre experiment in S5. omg I loved it. Terminus gets a coroner's report, The Unknowing gets slam poetry, The Flesh gets a gardening manual?????? mwah. it made me excited for the format of the statements again when they'd gotten stale. so many smart and interesting genre experiments in S5! and I, like Jon, don't even like poetry (just write some prose! I've never identified with a character more), so you know I'm impressed when I'm exclaiming about some poem

seriously! the genre experiments!!! so good

"queer couple navigate their new relationship and also The Hellscapes" = amazing, ty, also ty for doing it twice

somehow I managed not to notice the line about Jon being asexual at first and then I saw some tumblr post about it and I was like, wait what? my brain had gone pretty far down into some non-asexual fanfiction stories before I got that bit of canon and had to record-scratch freeze-frame. anyway I am pleased by the ace rep and hope to go read some non-sexual D/s for them in the future, please tell me if you know some good stuff

please also tell me if you know about fanfictions where Martin consensually feeds Jon his own memories and it's weird and intense

saw a cute fluffy domestic fanart where Jon was blind (ie had blinded himself to escape the eye) and I laughed and laughed that this is a fandom in which the happy fluffy AUs are the ones where the characters have violently blinded themselves. not to say I'm not gonna read the fluffy AUs where they've violently blinded themselves, I am, I'm sure they're lovely, it's just funny

don't think I wasn't thinking about Crowley and Aziraphale in the episode where Jon is like "what if we ran away together" in season four. When Jon is like "What if we ran away together, you and me, we could do it, what if we did" and he absolutely knows that Martin is not gonna say yes and maybe he doesn't want Martin to say yes but he wants to ask him anyway, he wants to try it anyway, because the fantasy of escape, together, is overpowering. anyway don't think I didn't think about Crowley

also laughed and laughed at the like four episodes at the end where Jon is like "maybe I should . . . . . . . . . . . become the Torment Nexus? From the classic scifi novel, Don't Become the Torment Nexus?" and first Martin and then everyone else is like "Jon, don't become the Torment Nexus" and it's really clear that you should not become the Torment Nexus but then later Jon says fuck it and becomes the Torment Nexus

I say it's really clear but the idea that you should strand and isolate and burn out the powers is not a bad one. I did like that the second to last episode was just a debate on morality with no clear resolution. that's a lovely way to send off your characters. tho it didn't matter a lot to the end plot? but still.

Jon "I think I'll just become the Torment Nexus" Simms, istg

THE TORMENT NEXUS

Sue Simms' voice is incredibly hot, Gertrude Robinson is absolutely deadass smokin, love how the Legend of Gertrude just built up over the seasons until by the end she was this like powerful callous avenging angel, no notes, might build a shrine in the woods with pictures of Gertrude in little jars

Gerry and Jurgen were both madly in love with her and she didn't notice or care because she was too busy kicking ass, no notes AT ALL

I really like the bit at the beginning of S5 where Jon is depression-listening to old archives tapes, like it's really effective to do the birthday party flashback just there when the world's just been apocalypsed, but I can't stop thinking about how Jon is listening to that tape and, in retrospect, being like "did Elias/Jonah use his all-powerful knowledge and vision to find out that there was cake in the office?" idk it really feels like Elias's motives in that flashback are like "eat cake" and no one else realizes that he's used his monstrous evil eye power to locate cake. anyway I imagine that Jon had all of these thoughts during his depression

Basira made me laugh ALL THE TIME, the voice acting was so good and she was so over everyone's shit. but at the same time there's this real softness to her at the end of S5 after she's killed Daisy, like she's still tough and grounded in her own perspective but suddenly more compassionate or sympathetic. she has such a good journey over the show

were Basira and Daisy a thing? I could not tell. maybe I should not ask. maybe I am not meant to know. maybe even asking shows how little I know, because their intense and murderous bond exceeds traditional relationship categories

I had a really nice time!!!

I will need to read fanfictions

I will need to watch animatics

I will need to seek out fanarts

the end