#voila has something to show you 。➴ 。

[madamvoila]

cute red envelope ideas 😛😛

imma be the coolest one at the family reunion

[livwritessometimes]

F1 Drivers & Their Couples Halloween Costumes

: Max Verstappen, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz, George Russell, Lewis Hamilton, Pierre Gasly, Alex Albon, Franco Colapinto, and Daniel Ricciardo

: Main Masterlist

: Author’s Note - Ik I’m a little late, but I had terrible migraine and just could not bring myself to finish this. But here we are! Here are some costumes I think that F1 Drivers will wear with their girlfriends

…

Max Verstappen

- Was absolutely against any stupid costume but the moment he saw this, it was over for him.

- For someone who was not interested in dressing up, Max took an awfully long time to make the cat’s head.

- Tried to show his outfit to Jimmy and Sassy……ya let’s just say, it did not go as well as he would have liked it to go 🤭

Lando Norris

- I mean….do I even need to explain this one???

- Lando was the one who came up with the idea (shocker)

- Put more effort and dedication into making the boobs than he does in race strategy! (He’d like to call this costume his life’s best work)

Oscar Piastri

- After rejecting several costume ideas (which included salt & pepper, socket & plug, jam & toast) he finally gave in to this costume (not that he had a choice)

- Decided to be Pete (totally called McLaren to get the orange hoodie set)

- Wanted to truly understand the essence of the character (spent 20+ hours trying to memorise the rap)

Charles Leclerc

- Honestly….even Charles has no idea why he suggested this costume.

- He wanted to do something fun….so he asked Arthur for help (this actually explains a lot why he was dressed like The Simpsons)

- This costume really grows on him, especially the headpiece (the expression reminds him of his years in Ferrari)

Carlos Sainz

- Tbh he has no idea what he’s doing! He’s just happy to be included.

- He doesn’t have many opinions about the costume; he just likes the fact that he gets to be close to his girlfriend.

- Gets so many compliments that he’s already started planning for next year’s couples costume.

George Russell

- Made a bet with Alex about who can become the most iconic Disney duo….hence Darla and Nemo 🐟

- Is more than happy to wear an orange wig, plaid skirt and glittery sweatshirt…🤨

- Even called Toto and asked him to play the dentist as a way to gain bonus points.

Lewis Hamilton

- He would rather die than be caught in these tacky outfits….which is why he found the best costume to wear!

- Got the suits custom made from the best designers (yes the alien is also custom made 👽)

- Won the best costume award (are we even surprised tho 🤷🏻‍♀️)

Pierre Gasly

- Just don’t ask why….this is what Pierre came up with!

- Now you might think the girlfriend is dressed as the chicken. Well….YOU’RE WRONG!!!

- Pierre insisted on dressing up as the chicken (bonus: he even asked Yuki to dress up as a knife)

Alex Albon

- Made a bet with George and he knew exactly what he wanted to become!!

- Truth be told, Alex made one hell of a Vector.

- He was surprisingly good at putting on the bald cap for Gru….which makes you wonder this isn’t the first time he’s done this 🤔

Franco Colapinto

- He had no intention of dressing up but got invited by the other drives, so he had to come up with something QUICK!

- Voila! Did a quick google search and decided to dress up as the first thing he saw.

- Not the best costume but 8/10 for his efforts and last minute planning 🥉

Daniel Ricciardo

- Does this not look like a pose Daniel would 100% do!!!!

- He said #Green&Proud

- Tried a lot to convince Max to dress up as the donkey 🫏….ya it didn’t happen!

…

Tags: @wobblymug | @evasmlp | @ln8118 |

[missydior]

I've just read 'milk & honey' and it is actually one of my favs rn i'm obsessed with ur style, please write something about the 'orange peel theory' with either charles or oscar when you can !! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

clementine ౨ৎ

notes: charles leclerc x reader, established relationship, fluff.

a/n: i love the orange peel theory, honestly. simple.

the orange peel theory: inherited from the psychological ideology surrounding one's willingness to commit acts of service for a loved one because they care ie. peeling an orange to make it more easily enjoyable.

A slow afternoon in late August – the sweet serenity of virgo season – where the skies are a mosaic of white clouds against the pale heavens, white lilies flourishing in a water glass upon the oak coffee table, a lingering aroma of a strawberry cake baked and left to set a few hours before.

After a morning of almond croissants and cappuccino at the Café de Flore, sunbathing for several hours, talking in the intimacy of lovers and walking around the familiar streets, you and your boyfriend are most content to spend the remaining hours in the peaceful ambience of home.

He is stood by the marble-polished kitchenette counter absently perusing through mail, handsome as ever: soft, brunet hair slightly tousled where he has not trimmed it recently in a manner you love; sun-kissed with the hints of subtle freckles against the bridge of his nose; white, linen shirt half-unbuttoned.

"Hm," Half lost in your own daydreams and musings, distracted from where you had previously been crocheting a gift for your mother from your comfortable seat about the plush sofa, re-watching Breakfast at Tiffany's, you wander quietly into the room.

Initially, your gaze falls to where Charles is stood, some desire to approach and bury yourself in his embrace most alluring, until eyes flicker towards the nearby porcelain bowl where recently-bought clementines sit, thoughts drifting elsewhere about the remembered conversation with your friends the week before.

When you let own settle in your grasp lightly – the Monégasque momentarily showing no sign of acknowledgement minus the ghost of a palm that comes to your lower back whilst his gaze remains on the intricate writing of a letter – there is a near-minute of lulling quietude as you merely gaze at it before sighing in supposed, audible defeat.

"Troubles, bébé?"

His voice is calm, almost a little teasing but genuinely intrigued. The endearment is enough for you to feel a slight warmth in the depth of your stomach like dancing butterflies, his eyes dancing over you momentarily, though you merely offer a gentle, vague shrug of your shoulders to begin with whilst shifting the citrus in your touch between manicured nails, "I kind of want one, but..."

Charles arches a handsome eyebrow in wordless inquiry, the paper held against the light callouses of his palm forgotten when he silently offers an opened hand that – with hitched breath and subtle uncertainty – you place the clementine upon.

He does not seem to question your demeanour or reluctance, merely working on deftly removing the thin rind before the sweet, alluring scent is all the more prominent harmony of its citrus fragrance to its nakedness before he's offering you a single segment with the beginning of a dimpled smirk, "Voila."

Flushing a little and hoping the rosiness of a blush is not perceptible along your neck or the apples of your cheeks, you merely meet his gaze through your lashes as you indulge in the sweetness of it slowly, swallowing.

Through your clothes and within your ribs, you can feel how your heart flutters a touch quicker like a sweet dove trying to flee its gilt cage.

"Thank you." Punctuated by the meeting of mouths in a slow, sensual kiss that begins chastely until he cannot quite convince himself to drawn away, the peeled clementine forgotten to the side on the marble whilst fingertips trace the curve of your waist through soft cashmere.

"Avec plaisir."

You will certainly have to notify your friends about your own experiences surrounding the recently-tried theory and its heartfelt success of a result.

[heartzfromel]

undercover

detective!agnes x fem!model!reader

summary; agnes has a bit of trouble in the makeup department. tony is useless, and rio is busy. luckily, miss texas is bored out of her mind in the room next door, and just so happens to be looking for something to do.

tags; queer awakening question mark, age gap but nothing overly crazy

a/n; jen mentioned who cheered, fyi reader doesn’t know she’s queer, also its the 90s so take that as u will, ignore any mistakes

chapter 1 | chapter 2

your stylist, jen, glared daggers into the back of marvin’s head as he paced around the room, answering several phone calls per minute and overall just distracting her from her work, which just so happened to be your hair.

“does he ever stop that?” she mumbled, leaning over your shoulder to grab hairspray.

“i don’t know,” you whispered back, “sometimes i think he’s a robot who got sent to spy on me by my father.”

“wouldn’t put it past him,” jen smirked, combing her fingers through your hair as she fluffed it up, “et voila! all done.”

“thank you kindly jen, your’e a lifesaver.” you grinned, showing her out.

once jen had left, you pushed your door closed and threw yourself onto your bed, rolling over to turn the cd player on, before closing your eyes, basking in your moment of silence.

•☽༻¨:·. ──── ₊☽◯☾₊ ──── .·:¨༺☾•

“what?” agnes deadpanned.

“we don’t have anyone to do your makeup.” tony mumbled, repeating himself.

“are you joking?” she spat.

“no…” he began, “we sorta thought you’d be able to do that yourself.”

“tony.”

“yeah?” he replied terror evident in his expression. he loved agnes dearly, but it didn’t take away from the fact that she was possibly the most terrifying woman to walk on planet earth.

“do i look like the sort of person who would know how to do my own makeup?”

tomy paused. now that he thought about it, he had never in his life witnessed agnes in a dress, nevermind makeup.

“get out.” she spat.

“huh?”

“get out! is that so hard for you to grasp, tony? i said GET OUT.”

•☽༻¨:·. ──── ₊☽◯☾₊ ──── .·:¨༺☾•

you groaned, the sound of a woman yelling filling your ears as you tried to get 20 minutes of sleep. now normally, you would’ve just got annoyed but left the situation alone, but this girl sounded MAD, and you were bored out of your mind by now, so you decided to go investigate.

when you left your hotel room, you realised that the yelling was coming from the room next door. huh, these walls must be thick, you thought to yourself, because the yelling sounded like it had been coming from somewhere a lot further down the hall.

the pristine white door lay wide open, and a man with dark hair was anxiously listening to the woman’s angry voice, before she yelled at him to get out.

before she slammed the door, you caught her.

“hey, everything alright out here?” you asked, shooting her a smile. this was the first time you had gotten a look at her, and quite frankly, you thought she was ethereal. her long dark hair tumbled effortlessly down her shoulders, stopping at her hips, and her skin was glowing, despite the obvious stress she was under. her eyes were piercing and as blue as sapphires, and she was in nothing but a plush white dressing gown.

“oh everything’s fine, hon!” she grinned back, giggling slightly, as she leaned on the doorframe.

“you sure? didn’t sound like it a second ago.” you replied, curiosity getting the better of you.

“well, that was my agent.” she began, “he just came to tell me my makeup artist couldn’t make it on this trip, she had to cancel.”

“oh, well that’s terrible! do you think you can do it yourself?”

“sure! i’ll be fine!” she reassured you, but something in her voice just wasn’t quite right.

“you don’t sound so sure. here, let me come in and help you out.” you offered.

she looked taken aback to say the least, and you were almost worried you had overstepped. that tended to happen with the other pageant girls. you had a really hard time getting them to like you. marvin told you they were just jealous, because after the pageants were over, you had a dozen magazines and perfume shoots booked, but you weren’t so sure, so whenever someone showed any sort of interest in interacting with you, you would jump at the chance, and sometimes you could be a bit much.

you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in as she stepped out of the way of the doorframe to let you in.

you smiled, and she smiled gratefully back at you as you ushered her to the chair that sat in front of her vanity.

“you got any makeup with you?” you asked.

“i’m afraid i’ve only got this.” she replied, ruffling through her bag, before holding up two bottles, foundation and concealer, looking at them as if she wasn’t fully aware of what they were.

“wait one second.” you grinned, before running back to your room, grabbing your bag and rushing back to the woman’s room.

“i got stuff!” you spoke, excitedly, laying various makeup products out on the vanity.

“oh, thank you doll, you’re a lifesaver.” she sighed, the nickname sending a shockwave through you as it slipped from her lips.

“so- uh, what’s your name, anyway?” you mumbled, trying to brush whatever that feeling was as you kneeled down to her level, pinning her hair out of her face.

“agatha harkness, you?”

“y/n y/l/n.”

“that’s pretty.” she sighed, closing her eyes as you began to apply her foundation to her face.

as you continued to do her makeup, your knees began to get tired, causing you to have to stretch them out every few minutes.

“are you hurting, y/n?” agatha began, “here, get up.” she added, gesturing to the vanity. you let out a sigh ad you sat up onto it. you tried not to notice the fact that her eyes never left you, trailing up and down your body every so often, but you didn’t see that part.

“better?” she asked, and you nodded. as you leaned in to do her eyeshadow, you could feel her breath, caressing your face gently. your own breath hitched as the action, mixed with her unbroken eye contact, sent shivers down your spine. what was happening to you?

you shook it off as you picked your favourite red lipstick off the table, leaning in to paint her lips. as her rich, amber scent enveloped you, all you could think about is how beautiful she was, how inviting her scent was, and how you just wanted to fall into her lap and kiss her right there and then, you hands running through her luscious dark locks and her stunning hands gripping your waist. you tried to shake the feeling off, not knowing what was going on. she’s a girl, you thought to yourself. oh my god, am i-

“am i all done?” agatha asked, staring up at you.

“uh, yeah. all done! i’ll see you later, yeah?” you gushed, not fully aware if you’d been staring at her or not. you quickly rushed out, grabbing your things.

“alright!” she smiled, “thank you!”

•☽༻¨:·. ──── ₊☽◯☾₊ ──── .·:¨༺☾•

agnes was in big trouble. she didn’t know how she’d managed it, but she’d managed to fall for the one person that she couldn’t, and it was made worse by the fact she couldn’t tell anyone. if this didn’t go away, she’d be done for. she had known you for twenty five minutes and was already struggling to keep her composure around you, which was a really bad thing, considering that her whole goal here was to keep her composure.

suddenly, there was a knock at the door. she groaned, moving to open it, before being greeted with tony’s dropped jaw.

“you look fantastic!” he began, “i saw y/n leaving, by the way. how did that go?”

“uhh..”

one thing was right. and that was that agnes o’connor had messed up.

•☽༻¨:·. ──── ₊☽◯☾₊ ──── .·:¨༺☾•

taglist; @hannah-0730 @m1vfs @creaturesaphique @push-on-me @chiar4anna (comment to be added)

[brayneworms]

and teary faces know the craft | lyney

kinktober day one: lingerie

word count. 1.8k

content. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, lingerie, making out, both lyney + reader getting blueballed, allusions to jealousy + insecurity, somewhat established relationship, lyney is a bratttt, gender neutral reader

♪ death kink - fontaines d.c.

notes. call that lyngerie

kinktober 2024 m.list | regular m.list

He's a tease. 

You should more than likely stop being surprised by it; like the owl is wise and the bake-danuki is curious, it's simply in his nature. The coy flutter of a lash, the point of a toned leg, the briefest catching of his amethyst eyes on yours at something that could be construed as innuendo. A flash like the white spark of a kamera bulb, and then gone again, retreating into shadow like it was never there in the first place. 

Backstage smells like pine wood and wax. The stage squeaks with each turn of Lyney's boot upon the shining floor. In around an hour, the Opera Epiclese will be seething with audience members, packed in and huddled tight for the show. For now, it is only a palimpsest; the only people in the seats for now are you and Freminet, who maintains a shy distance a couple rows in front of you, fiddling with his little robotic penguin. You think he's started to grow used to your presence—and he's pretty sharp beneath the sandy bangs, his eyes snagging on little things others might gloss right over.

You suppose Lyney and Lynette are similar, though; beneath different veneers, all of Arlecchino's children are remiss to let any small detail slip by them. 

You suppose it's a mark of the Hearth, that inclination towards neuroticism. 

"And voila!" The twins' routine finishes with a swish of Lynette's skirt and Lyney's arms raised towards the domed ceiling. "What did you think?"

Freminet raises his head. "It was great," he mutters. "As always. The bit with the water tank is new, right?"

"It's merely a spruce-up of our old bit with the box," Lyney smiles. "But yes, essentially, it's new."

Freminet hums. "Well... be careful, is all. I liked it though."

Lyney beams. It's an inevitability that his gaze turns to you then, hunched a little further back. "And you, our dear guest? Do you concur?"

You raise your chin. "I think... it's your best work yet." 

The smile Lyney offers is beatific—and genuine, you know, only because your own praise is such. As someone who lives a life half behind a mask, Lyney has become well-tuned to the frequency of other people's lies; it's why, you often think, he's so enamoured with you. Because you don't lie to him. 

"Does that mean we can take a small break?" Lynette asks, fiddling with a glove. "I'd like a chance to refresh before the real show."

"Of course, of course. I would say we've more than earned it." As Lynette makes her way offstage, probably on the hunt for a teahouse, Freminet trails after her and Lyney catches your eye. You approach up the centre aisle that runs through the middle like a parting through a scalp, up to the edge of the stage. It’s so tall that it comes up to your chin, and Lyney extends a hand down to help you haul yourself up. It smells like rosewood and wax up here, settling pleasantly in your nose. Lyney watches you, eyes wide, earnest. He has such a sweet face, if you can learn to ignore the gleam in his eye. 

“Want to help me get ready?” he asks casually. You bite back the urge to raise a brow; he looks stage-perfect already, down to the outfit. He doesn’t need help with a damn thing.

All you say is, “Sure,” and he leads you happily through the maze of corridors backstage to his dressing room. He and Lynette have separate ones here, which is nice; neither of them particularly like sharing space. Lynette keeps her things organised, and Lyney… decidedly doesn’t. He’s not a messy person by metric, but he does tend to charge forward toward the goal without realising the trail he was leaving in his wake. 

The dressing room is modestly sized, draped in swaths of red and gold cloth that make it feel heady and hot and close. A sparkling mirror edged in something that glows lurid and blue-white, throwing your features into sharp relief; and a complimentary basket of local Fontainian specialities which you pick through with interest, coming up with foreign titian fruits and crystal bottles of fizzy alcohol.

“So…” Lyney hovers at your shoulder, watching you pick through the cellophane-wrapped morsels. “You really liked the show?”

“I did.” You put back some fancy chocolate thing and turn to face him; he doesn’t back off, watching with his hands twisting like snakes before him. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was nervous. “You’re really getting into it. Lynette’s working very hard.”

It’s a prod, a careful poke—and as you guessed, Lyney pouts. If he had ears like his sister, they’d probably be pinned back against his head right now. “Only Lynette?” 

 A slow grin spreads over your face like molasses. “Oh, I see. You’re fishing for something.”

“Ahaha… I don’t fish.” He crosses his arms over his chest, chin jutting petulantly. “But when you go out of your way not to compliment me, you can’t blame me for thinking the worst. Perhaps my loveliest guest of all is losing interest?”

“Perhaps,” you say mildly, then backtrack as soon as his expression falters. “Oh, come on. You know what I think of you. Must I say it every time.”

“You could stand to say it more.”

“I bought you that lovely gift only a few days ago.”

Lyney’s eyes flash; that gleam, like the side of a cut amethyst. “Oh, I remember,” he says coyly. “I’ve grown quite familiar with it, in fact.”

The notion makes heat flare in your gut. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm.” He pauses, smiles—catlike, just a hint of sharp teeth between the plush peach of his lip. “You might say I’m familiar with it right this second, actually.”

You blink. Your mouth is as dry as the Great Red Sand. “Are you trying to tell me—”

Tease. It’s in the way Lyney’s face slips into an innocent little smile as he hooks a finger over the cuffed edge of his shorts and yanks it up enough to expose a glimpse of rouge lace. Unable to stop yourself, your hand flies out, keeping it there. You stare from it to him. 

“Are you serious?” you whisper. 

Lyney giggles. “I take this to mean you’re not losing interest, then?”

“I’ll kill you.” You sound too hoarse. “Show me.”

Lyney casts a slow, obvious look at the ornate clock hung open the wall. “Y’know, I’m just not entirely sure we have time right now, dearest.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” you mutter, fingers hooking onto his stupid bodysuit and fumbling at the buttons. You can feel his stomach flex with silent laughter at your obvious eagerness; usually you’d be trying to reign it in—the last thing a tease like him needs is more fire to stoke the fuel of his ego—but sue you. He knows what buttons to press. He has way too much power in his sleek gloved hand. 

You get a handle on the suit and yank it down with difficulty to his knees. What you’d seen a glimpse of were two thin silky garters, encircling the plush of his pale thighs, just about hidden by the hem of his shorts. One wrong move and they’d slip out from under the black leather, glaringly visible to everyone. The idea makes you feverish with anger and also so turned on you can barely see straight. 

The garters clip onto dusky pink underwear, arching gracefully over his pubic bone to encircle the triangle of his waist. When you lift a trembling hand to lift his shirt, you see a matching bralette, satiny cups tight against the soft swells of his pectorals. You can see straight through the gauzy fabric, coffee-coloured nipples pebbled under your attention. 

“I hate you,” is the first thing that come out of your mouth. The sight of him in this sparkling pink-red set makes you want to do unspeakable things. You want to ruin that fabric forever and buy him a new one. A dozen new ones in hundreds of different shades, ruin them systematically, rinse, repeat. 

He laughs again, but even his facade has its limits; he sounds slightly breathless, and you can see the faint pink blush on his cheeks starting to crawl down his chest. His collarbones gleam like cut diamonds, archons you wish you could bite them. “I take it you approve?”

Your answer is as animalistic as you feel, the rough crush of your lips over his. You’re rewarded with a muffled mmphf?! as your weight pushes the both of you back against the table, sending the cute basket of edible arrangements sprawling in a mosaic upon the floor. You muscle your way between Lyney’s legs, the press of his stiffening cock so close through only the wisp of organza, hot and insistent as a brand mark. Your hand tangles in his hair, dragging him impossibly closer as your lips duck to press against his butter-soft skin, his jaw, his neck—

“N-no marks!” he gasps, even as he presses his hips against yours with a moan. “Dearest, lovely, mon chérie, please—”

“You’re so pathetic,” you whisper into his neck, feel the buzz of your words sink into the soft skin of his throat. Lyney shudders and whines his protest. “No time, remember? Whose fault is that?”

“I just wanted—you to look at me,” he grits out, legs locked around your waist. It occurs to you that his fears of you losing interest are likely to be grounded in reality, dressed up with a lilting voice and wave of a hand. Your heart twitches. 

“I’m always looking at you, stupid.” 

Lyney’s cheeks darken, brows coming together as a sort of glaze slides over his eyes. This look you’re familiar with; it makes your breath hitch. He leans forwards, lips parted—

Three sharp knocks at the door. “We’re on in fifteen minutes, brother.”

Lyney’s whole body scrunches up, a cold disappointment stealing over his face. He looks to you desperately, but you can only shrug. “Answer your sister.”

He droops like a wilting flower. “I… I’ll be right out, Lynette.”

There’s a pause, a deeply disappointed sigh, and you hear her heels clicking neatly back down the corridor. Lyney scrubs a hand down his face and awkwardly gets down from the desk, fumbling to right his clothes. His whole body shivers as he does his bodysuit back up, having to readjust it several times in wake of his hardness. He looks down unhappily at the result.

As he goes to leave, he pauses, hand on the doorknob. “You’ll stay for the show?”

You see the question for what it is, and smile. “Wouldn’t miss it. I’ll wait for you after, too.”

Lyney tucks his head away, but you fancy you can see his giddy smile anyways. “I’ll try not to make you wait too long,” he murmurs; one hand reaches down, adjusts the cuff of his shorts just so you get the briefest flash of red-pink. And then he’s gone, out the door and down the corridor to the stage.

You lean against the table, heave a sigh. Start picking up the spilled complimentaries from the basket. You have a feeling, later tonight, that you’re both going to need the sustenance. 

[phantasmicfish]

Long ranty list of stuff that majorly Sucked in s4 of tua:

- number one thing I loathe is the convenient way tua got their powers back. We get this brief vignette of them without their powers in episode 1, and then by the end of the episode they conveniently find the marigold and *voila* have powers. Where were the stakes? The consequences? Show me TUA struggling to adjust to powerless life. Five annoyed that he has to use the stairs to climb a four story building. Diego failing to chop expertly w knives. Luther struggling to open jars idk give me something. Don’t just do a six year time skip and ignore the mundane!

- Adding onto ^ that I feel like it would make more sense to me if we saw TUA without their powers for maybe 3 eps in s4, and they go through a mini Journey to get them back. Instead it’s like the entire hook of the s3 finale is immediately resolved in episode 1, it annoys me to no end

- Five working for the CIA I sorta get… cuz it’s sorta what he did with The Commission. So now unmoored and powerless he’d probably go back to that lifestyle. But Five, paranoid violent genius in the room Five, not noticing the completely obvious umbrella tattoo on his boss’ wrist?

- Jennifer being introduced, immediately shrugging off the fact that her entire town was murdered/a Truman Show sham, and joining Ben with basically zero questions

- Jennifer getting no character arc beyond she was born in a squid and she loves Ben

- Getting zero recognition that Reginald is an alien. Like. Hello?? You just found out your pos father is AN ALIEN! Are the siblings seriously not going to talk about this

- Also what year is s4 set in. Why do they always dial rotary phones but mention cryptocurrency? What is this universe where everybody knows Reginald and he’s colloquially referred to as “the elite?” Are Reginald and Abigail the… President and Vice President? King and Queen? Just some people who started a massive corporation and got rich?

- No mention of Grace is criminal. It would have made waaaaay more sense if the lady who played Abigail was actually played by Grace. And it would add some heart to Reginald as a character too. Otherwise, instead of secretly loving Grace his alien wife, Grace is just some woman who was alive in the 60s and Reginald made a replica robot mom of her in 2019. For some reason. Idk I feel like the puzzle pieces were all laid out and for some reason TUA writers did not assemble them

- No mention of Pogo or Ray is also incredibly disappointing. Allison betrayed her siblings in order to be with Claire AND with Ray in one universe, but he’s not even in s4. Why even included him in the end of s3 then

- Okay maybe I’m pulling a blank but who tf is Quinn? Why does he know Klaus? Why does he hate Klaus so much?

- Why does Claire know Klaus is immortal? Why is all of sudden cool w her mom having eye glowy powers? You have no questions about that Claire huh…

- It also made sense to me that Lila and Diego would hate domestic life… and to me it seemed like even introducing their kids (not one, but three) was sort of silly. We only really saw Grace at the birthday party and then it seemed like Lila and Diego would forget and then remember the kids existed at weird parts

- Five and Lila giving up searching for a way out of the subway stations six years in seemed sus. Yes, take a break/eat strawberries but why would you stop searching for a way back? You’re supposed to be the best agents in the commission so like… where did that grit/determination go

- Ben dying and being mutated with zero understanding of what was happening to him… just sucked

[chalkscrub]

chalkrub stuns in new oc-tober prompts

it's a text-heavy update...i love rambling

day 11: symbolism/themes/visual metaphor i.e my favourite things in the world - eng lit nerds make some noise!!!!!

goin back to day 11 with my favourite thing in the world: an unfinished sketchy concept. and also SYMBOLISM and themes and metaphor…and also dark green

so mika and heidi's story is haunted by one time they happened upon a drowned fox and pheasant in a disused canal, something which came at a weird time in their lives and which heidi made weirder by making cryptic suggestions about the whole thing, especially playing on mika’s (former) religious beliefs about spirit connections. Over time, it’s infected mika with budding paranoia in the form of nightmares, hallucinations and latent aquaphobia, all of which she begins seeing as premonitory

shan’t overexplain the symbolism even though my brain wants me to, but this was all inspired by seeing literally the exact same thing on a walk with my great aunt when I was like 6 or 7. the canal water was all covered in algae/pondweed so i’m guessing the fox chased the pheasant, they both mistook the canal for grass, then fell in and drowned together. even as a little kid I was like wrow this is so poignant and tragic and heavy with the potential for on-the-nose symbolism….. or alternatively it just looked cool as hell and felt kind of rare and special. either way, like 15 years later I was developing a new direction for a couple of initially completely unrelated ocs, i.e mika and heidi, and at some point in their story development, I was like now wait a second….this is just like that one time I saw those animals who chased each other into an early shared fate and drowned together…… and it fit them really well and also made everything click into place for the main story, it was kind of uncanny. Thank you nature for showing me cool things every day, and rip to the fox and pheasant you live in my mind forever and always

day 12: future

BEAS!!! beas i love you beas. initial beasley flavour on the left and future flavour on the right. his whole deal is he wants to start a cult, so he ventures to The Big City to make a name for himself. then he realises imps like him are a dime a dozen in the city and nobody cares about him, so he has to scrape by working a minimum wage job as a cashier in a tiny corner shop. he’s from a comic I (partially) made for uni, idk how his story goes exactly but I guess it probably ends with the typical sappy message of being yourself for yourself and not for fame or fortune or whatever. he gets up to hijincks, feels sad and depressed, and goes through the torment of living with his own mediocrity in a world that demands greatness. imps grow with power, not with age, so at the start of the story, even though he’s an adult, he’s still as small as when he was born/summoned/spawned/whatever. he’s got some shapeshifting prowess, so his future form is more an example of the kinds of feats he can pull off when his powers stabilise, and also his cool badass flaming eyes.

day 14: inspiration.

here's a convoluted block of text explaining the heretic's main inspiration, which isn't very apparent in the design at ALL but nevertheless: they’re kind of inspired by the concept of a closet costume. like how you can throw a bedsheet over yourself and cut out some eyeballs and voila. You’re a ghost. Or put a big furry coat and a mask on and you’re a werewolf now. almost all of their design links back to this in a roundabout way: the fur is meant to look like a rug/coat/furry thing draped over something. I used to have a sheepskin rug when I was a kid and I’d always hide under it and crawl about and pretend to be a monster lmao…this is what i looked like in my head maybe. The normal shoes poking out are the human element – like how halloween costumes will sometimes be mostly themed but the shoes are just practical, or you see shoes poking out beneath one of those two-man horse costumes. The face is meant to look mask-like – the glassy unfocused eyes, the fixed toothy grin, the simple cone shape. The black eyelids are meant to be like those Halloween masks that have eyeholes above/below the eyes, covered with that black fabric to make it less obvious there's eyeholes. And the ears are floppy to be like socks or something; they have those two black lines because they remind me of loose stitching. Also just some animal influences thrown in – possums, goats and bulls…..none of the closet costume stuff is meant to be noticeable or apparent in the design, so why did I put so much thought into it? who know… but this thing is one of my favourite designs I’ve made so maybe it was all worth it

[tonystarkfucksaround]

So I'm pretty sure it's been mentioned before, but I guess I've never really paid it any mind until it suddenly struck me — that scene where Charles makes an illusion of Erik wearing a blue dress and a wig? Blue sequin dress and red wig, specifically?

It's funny and dorky in and of itself, and it sure brings out a couple of questions (did Charles ever see Erik in a dress to know precisely how he'd look in one? Did he fantasize about it? Oh Charles, all you ever had to do was ask), but it also made me wonder if it really was just a coincidence that he kind of... made Erik look like Raven? You know, with the sequin resembling her scales and a matching red wig?

I think it could've been somewhat unintentional on his part, really. It's just that he was so used to Raven being the only other mutant he knew, and to them being together (Charles and Raven against the world and all that). Of course he's excited to meet the others, and he sure as hell enjoys their mutant gay road trip with Erik, but he's known Raven the longest, and he probably still has a knee-jerk reaction every now and then thinking that she's somewhere nearby. And him making Erik look (a little) like Raven? Probably his mind's compromise about having his sister with him.

I also think that it has something to do with the nature of his powers and the way others might react to it (let's be honest — it's probably not always a good way). Maybe Angel wasn't their first recruit, only the first one who agreed to go with them, and maybe there was someone before her who didn't take kindly to Charles showing off his powers by going into their mind; it's mostly Erik who demonstrates his abilities — makes sense, since it's much more tangible — so when Charles has to show what he can do, he must come up with the ways that wouldn't be perceived as scary or invasive.

And his first thought? "What would Raven do", or "Raven would've made it so much easier" (cue to their first meeting with the CIA, where Charles only made everyone panic up until Raven stood up and promptly turned into Stryker).

Now consider that he's also buzzing with excitement about the whole ordeal, probably at least a little tipsy from the drinks (and perhaps not so little from the buzz of drunk minds all around them at the club), and most likely more than a little attracted to Erik sitting so close to him, and voila — his mind practically composes an illusion for him based on these subconscious clues.

(Contrary to a lot of headcanons and fics out there, I really think that Charles absolutely refused to tell or show Erik just what the illusion had been when he sobered up and realized just what he'd done. Angel, though, gleefully did, and Erik absolutely made use of that knowledge at some point)

[dawnoftime22]

moments to never forget.

| T.S

Warnings: None!

Summary: It's your birthday, and Taylor has many plans up her sleeve. She gives you surprises one after another simply in one day, and it becomes the most special birthday you've had yet.

Word Count: 2.9k

Category: Fluff! All fluff!!

A/N: GUESSSS WHO'S BIRTHDAY IT IS??? MINE!!! happy birthday to me :DD so take this as a birthday special <33 I really really hope you'll love this because its one of my most fav fic I've written so far <3

| Started on 01/12/2023, 5:53 PM |

| Finished on 01/12/2023, 11:13 PM |

Masterlist | T.S Masterlist

“Oh, all I'd ever do for you, and you only.”

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

It was a peaceful day. You were sat on the couch in the living room with Taylor, knowing today is your birthday, but you never really did much on it, except get a cake really.

"You know, I have something to show you." She says naturally, but with a mysterious tone in her voice. You piqued up slightly in her embrace at the sentence, curiosity taking over your features.

"What is it?" You ask as she moves to get you off of her and stand up, wanting you to follow with her from her hands tugging on yours.

"You'll see." Her voice was cheeky, her eyes following her smile. You get dragged over to the bedroom, making you all the more curious.

She sits you down on the bed before going off to the closet, where all her clothes are located. She opens it, and you gasp.

Your mouth was open at the set of cardigans in her wardrobe that you knew weren't there before. They were beautiful, and the side of the arms had little stitched in stars in them. You close your mouth as you took in the scene before you. Was this real or a dream? You didn't even know. You were about to ask her to pinch you.

They only weren't there before because Taylor had some of them stored in another house, and she didn't have a piece of each and every one yet, surprisingly, until her team sent her ones she didn't have yet, completing her collection.

"Which one do you want?" She asks softly, her hands waving over to them as a gesture of 'voila'. Her eyebrows raised with a smile on her lips.

"Tay, I love them all, I can't just choose one." Your shoulders slumped with your words, your mind thinking Taylor was asking you to choose only one that you could wear or add to your own wardrobe. Technically you could just steal hers, but that wasn't in your flow of thoughts with the shock, and how your mind was currently focused on her question.

"Well, you can have them all, darling, but right now which one do you wanna wear?" Her sentence comes out with a small giggle that vibrates within her ribs and echoes out to your ears, and you were about to melt into a pool of puddle on the wooden floor with all the love you had for her.

"You choose," you say quietly, not able to make a decision. She hums, half expecting you to have said that, perhaps. The blonde turns her head to look at the closet, her fingers brushing against the soft fabrics of the cardigans, and her eyes were extremely focused.

"How about this one?" Taylor reaches her hand out to one of the hangers, grabbing one of the seven cardigans from her collection. She chose simply on whichever she thought you'd love most, and she never fails in doing so.

You grab the hanger as she gives it to you, your eyes shining at the sight. You delicately take off the cardigan and put your arms in the arm holes, wearing it. It smoothly goes over your shoulders and went off to your other arm as you fully had it on you.

Taylor smiles, her eyes looking over the sight of you wearing something of hers. Well, she has before, considering you stole her hoodies and clothes, but this was especially different. Her own merch.

"You look lovely," she whispers, her voice endearing as ever. A slight red tint appears on your face, and she tries her hardest to get a clear picture of it in her head to store away and remember for years later to come.

"It's warm. It feels like whenever you hug me." You move your arms as if to hug yourself slightly, the comfortable fabric making itself feel like home upon you.

"Well, I'm warmer, but I'm glad it's comfortable." You giggle at her sentence, but she wasn't wrong. Although she is warmer, the cardigan fits you perfectly, and it's soft against the skin of your arms.

She closes the closet doors and walks over to you, putting her arms out to hug you and sit on your lap. She places her arms around your body that was layered in a shirt and the cardigan.

"Are you warm enough?" She asks playfully as she puts her cheek against your shoulder, looking up at you adorably, her blonde hair spilling over your shoulder. You swore you were gonna die happily right then and there.

"You're basically gonna make me melt from all the warmth." You're lucky the room was cold enough for it all to be cozy, and oh so perfect of a temperature.

She giggles, and then gets off of you, standing up and taking your hand into hers, tugging you to follow along.

"Where are we going now?" You ask curiously, your arm pushing you up and your legs straightening to a standing position to follow her. Your hands were intertwined with each other like a perfect puzzle piece.

"Someplace you'll love." She says, grabbing her keys out her pocket and going to the living room, making her way to the front door.

Once she opens the door, the sun was greeting high above the clouds somewhere, but it wasn't awfully sunny. She closes and turns the key into the door behind you. The sky shows a nice and gentle weather, no gray clouds.

The car beeped in the distance to your left, making you turn your head towards it. Taylor tilts her head while she walks to the car, as if to signal you that she was done making sure the house was all safe and locked.

You trail behind her, watching her get in the driver seat to turn on the engine. You thought she'd stay there and close the door, but she goes over to the passenger side and opens yours for you.

A dopey smile was on your face, her small gestures of love being everything to you. You went ahead and walked by her to go sit in the seat. She checks that you're fully in the vehicle before she closes the door.

When Taylor got in and clicked her seatbelt on along with you, she settles her hands on the steering wheel, driving off to the main road and start the journey to your destination, wherever that may be.

You got comfortable, unknowing whether it'll be a short one, or a long one. Before doing so, you turn on the radio and adjust the volume so it'll be good background music. You smile when you hear your favorite song playing.

Her eyes went to watch you every now and then, your head nodding along to the music and some lyrics coming out your mouth. She was so in love with you and everything about you.

When it went on to being half an hour in the car, you had settled down in your seat, watching the trees pass by and looking at the view outside. It seems you were going up a few mountains, and you couldn't wait to see what she had planned.

Taylor was smiling adorably as she drove. The sun was setting already, the two of you having left the house in the evening, and it left an iridescent line on her face, the rearview mirror reflecting the sun.

This was a precious day and a precious moment. You stare at her, admiring her for a second before pulling out your phone, your teeth catching your lip as you took a picture of her.

She notices you in the corner of her eyes, and her smile grew wider with a soft look. "I saw that," she says, knowing you loved to take pictures of her before she sees. But you didn't just take it for that reason.

"There's a rainbow on your face." You point out, and she looks into the mirror, her eyes brightening at the many colors of light visiting her cheek down to her neck. It was as if you were to travel upon a rainbow and find a stash of gold, to which, she practically is one. But she's more valuable and special than a simple pot of gold. Oh, so much more.

"I guess it's true how they say I have a bit of magic running through me." She focuses back on the road ahead of her, joking about the fans to you. You shake your head with a small laugh, but almost agreeing with her and the people who's talked about it. Far too many coincidences with the plane matching her lyrics, and mother nature following her with strikes of lightning.

Soon enough, you arrive, and it was a place somewhere on the side of the road, but there was a small path that could be seen at an angle. You follow Taylor's lead when she got out and locked the car, the wind breezing gently through your hair as you moved.

The sun had gone down by now, and the sky was dark, but the pathway had small lamps lighting up the way. You wondered if that was Taylor's doing, or perhaps they had already been there and this was a spot some people visit.

But it was her doing. She found this place a while ago, and no one else had taken it thus far. It was hers, and your spot now. The grass was green, and there were beautiful trees with leaves flowing and smoothly falling down here and there.

Taylor eventually stops walking, and you see a small picnic set up below an apple tree. She smiles your way, and your lips reflected hers. You couldn't have found anyone better.

She goes to sit down on the fabric, beside her a basket with some food. You sit down with her, shuffling to sit in between her legs with your back against her front.

It was a place where not much light pollution covered the place. You stare up at the night sky. It glimmered with stars, brightly glowing along with the gibbious moon high up the sky. You could see venus and saturn somewhere.

The sight shined off to your eyes, and hers stared down to them, admiring the speechless but happy look on your face. You were staring at the stars, she was staring at you.

You had your hands resting in your own lap, and she went off to the basket to grab a container that has a a slice of cheesecake. One that was delicious, and one from your favorite shop.

There was a small birthday candle, and the blonde gently places it atop the cake, lighting it up with a lighter.

She grabs a fork, opening the lid and handing the fork to you. You didn't see it until she waved it slightly, making you look down. A small gasp makes it way out your mouth when you realize what was on the picnic blanket just beside you.

"Tay, you didn't have to do all this." You say, your voice barely above a whisper from the surprise of how much she's been doing for you just in one day. And she planned all of it by herself. You look at her over your shoulder, your eyes full of emotions.

"But I wanted to. And you deserve every inch of it," she says, so very softly. Her free hand reaches up to caress your cheek with her thumb gently. She then lays a light kiss on your lips, her eyes holding only care and her embrace only holding safety.

Your lips turned upwards, and you gently take the fork from her hand, going off to grab the cheese cake container.

"Make a wish." She whispers gently. You stay quiet for a second, before blowing out the candle. Her face has a smile as she watches you.

"You're not gonna tell me what you wished for are you?" Taylor asks as you dig your fork into the cake, taking a small size before putting it in your mouth.

"Nope. It won't come true if I do." But in honest truth, the wish was her. To be with her forever and always.

The cake melted in your mouth. It was sweet, but not awfully sweet. Just the right amount, as it always had been. Taylor watches your movement from behind as she held you.

You then take another piece, but you didn't put it in your mouth. Instead, you lean back slightly and turn, putting the piece of cheese cake in the air, just near her mouth.

Her eyes flickered down to it, then back to your face. She opens her mouth and eats it, humming with the delicious taste filling her mouth.

She grabs another fork from the basket, wanting to share with you. You let her by putting the plastic container beside the both of you once more, turning back around to rest against her and stare up at the sky.

As the cheese cake was being finished, and the crickets made sound somewhere in the trees, she had thoughts floating in her mind, her eyes wandering over to you every now and then rather than the cake, or the sky.

"Okay, I have one last thing for you today." She spoke up softly, and you look at her, curiosity filling you as you wondered what else she could possibly have in store.

"What is it?" You ask, eager at this point from the sleepiness that might be coming onto you, and how she's been going at you with surprises left and right today. But it is a special day, after all.

"Can't tell you yet. Close your eyes first." She whispered near your ear as if to give off a mysterious tone.

"It better not be a snake like last time." You said as you closed your eyes and raised a brow. She had her mouth open in an act of getting offended even though you couldn't see.

"No! It's your birthday, silly. Of course I'm not gonna scare you." You can hear her smile in her voice, and some movement somewhere near you. She looks at you closely, making sure you had your eyes fully closed.

You then feel one of your arms being tugged up slightly to be put in the air at the same height as your chest, your palm facing upwards. A what felt like a box, with a soft exterior was then placed on your hand.

"Okay, you can open your eyes," she says, and the both of you were filled with anticipation. Hers, of your reaction, and you, of what you're gonna see when you open your eyes. When you did, it was a beautiful black box in your hand with a shiny metal latch.

"You better not have gotten me something far too expensive." Your eyes went off to hers, and she has a smile growing on her face once more.

"Just a reasonable price for something special," was all that she replied with, and you couldn't really say anything much to that, and so, your hand goes off to get the latch and open the lid, revealing a metal necklace that has a heart in the shape of how she draws it, and her initials on the sides of the heart. There are also small charms at the side of your favorite albums of her, not far off from the center of the necklace.

"Taylor. You did not." Your voice was in pure shock, knowing this was definitely custom-made. You had talked before about a necklace that should have certain charms that you would love to see together. But there wasn't one that really existed like that specifically, so you never thought of ever getting it. But she managed to get one specifically for you, and only one exists in the world.

"Yes, I did." She looked down at you, seeing how your hands very gently touched the chain and charms on it, loving that you were awestruck, and also absolutely in love with her.

"Happy birthday, baby." She kisses your cheek softly, hugging you and squeezing slightly from behind. Even a squirrel perhaps that isn't yet sleeping, is looking at the two of you from above a nearby tree, seeing the love you held dear.

"Thank you, Tay." You whisper, your free hand that wasn't holding the box going off to take her hand that was around your stomach in yours, giving it a gentle squeeze as she did with your body earlier.

"Help me put it on?" You ask, looking at her. She was looking at you with a soft gaze, like a fawn looking at someone.

"Of course," she replies, taking ahold of the necklace with a gentle grip to not let it fall, and clasping it around your neck, checking it was on properly.

"You look gorgeous," she says, her voice filled with honesty. Her eyes were all focused on you and the necklace on your neck.

"Do you like it?" She asks as if with hope for you to love it, but she already knew the answer to come, she just wanted to hear it coming from your own mouth than her head.

"I love it!!" Taylor adored the pure joy on your face, every second with you making her love you even more somehow, if possible.

The rest of the night was spent with adoration and love, and you sleeping in the car on the ride back home, with her staring at you at some red lights.

It's a whole day of memories to remember, and you aren't ever gonna forget it.

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

taglist <3 - join here! :]

@dmenby3100 @wandsmxmff @simp-erformarvelwomen

[madamvoila]

@hiimricky13 on reddit

most realistic minecraft texture pack

[teecupangel]

Ooh idea: pigeon!Desmond again, but instead of a single immortal pigeon, he just reincarnates over and over again. But not in a ‘he lays the egg that will be the next Desmond’ way, just a ‘he dies and somewhere a new pigeon is born and voila Desmond!’ way. Altaïr would probably figure out that it was the same spirit/soul but I wonder how long it would take Ezio?

The original pigeon Desmond idea for those curious.

I’m so glad you specified ‘reborn as a random pigeon somewhere else’ because my brain immediately went ‘if not an egg, how about the new pigeon bursting out of the old pigeon’s chest ala chest burster lol’

For this one, we’ll have Desmond have the same age expectancy as a pigeon and be reborn as a chick somewhere else. This way, his ancestor will have the time to grieve over the death of their pigeon. When Desmond returns to them, enough time has passed that they wouldn’t mind having another dedicated messenger pigeon.

Altaïr would notice it early on because he grew up with Desmond. He’s used to Desmond’s habits and quirks as a pigeon. And the Levantine Brotherhood kept using messenger pigeons so Altaïr has been exposed to a lot of them. Desmond had always been strange compared to them and it showed. Would he realize it as soon as they met? No. It’ll take him a couple of weeks. The most glaring thing is that his latest pigeon liked to rest on the same shoulder as Desmond did and made the same cooing sound whenever he was trying to get Altaïr to rest for a bit.

For Ezio though. Let’s make it more traumatic. Messenger pigeons aren’t a regular occurrence for Ezio but Petruccio has a ‘pet’ pigeon who liked to fly towards him and chill with him whenever Petruccio was resting or had to do something else.

So Desmond’s first death in Italia is actually during the time the Auditores are being arrested. He tried to protect Petruccio but ends up being hit hard. When Ezio returned, Desmond actually dies in his hands.

He gets reborn and has to deal with the whole ‘growing up as a pigeon’ thing again. By the time he returns to Ezio, Ezio’s already in Monteriggioni, training with his uncle’s mercenaries, and he becomes one of the many messenger pigeons the Brotherhood uses.

(Not to be mistaken by the messenger pigeons the Medici uses. Desmond hates being mistaken as one of them)

Ezio would probably realize Desmond keeps being reborn around the time he’s in Roma. As the mentor, he gets more messenger pigeons than he did before and he gets used to them, figuring out their specific quirks and habits.

Desmond’s habits remained the same and it takes Ezio a bit of time before he remembered why Desmond’s habits felt… nostalgic.

It’s because Desmond acts the same as he did when he was just Petruccio’s pet pigeon.

[bumblebeecc]

Boho Babe: Woven Whims Cane Double Bed Separated and Recolored

So I recently discovered my own CC on Pinterest after years of not making any. And that, combined with the cute furniture that came with the newest EP, made me decide to start creating again! Mainly for myself, but I figured someone out there might want to use these as well.

I loved the Woven Whims Cane Double Bed, but I needed more options. So I separated the frames and mattresses, made the pillow on the headrest white, and recolored them in some cute neutral boho patterns. And voila! I hope someone can get some use out of it. If not, at least I learned some new things! I hope to separate and recolor the rest of the EP's beds soon.

Some important info:

You will need Growing Together for this to show up.

The frames come in a pretty eclectic variety of colors. I tried to match the general palette of the other Growing Together items, as well as a few basic woods that I could see myself using in my games.

The bedding patterns are from BrandiLeaDesigns on Etsy.

Everything has been play-tested, but if I missed something/messed up on something, I'm very sorry!

Download:

Frame: Dropbox

Mattress: Dropbox

[phneltwrites]

On Smut Writing

hey if you're a young royals writer and you struggle to write smut but you want to, I'm happy to chat. We can talk through your idea and discuss strategies. (ofc if you never want to then that's fine too!)

Otherwise also big recommend on this very old essay (like so old it both uses and defines the word slash): here

Also, here is a brief summary of my personal method. These tips also work for: action scenes, dance scenes, and dream sequences

figure out my zing (what is zing? read the essay)

put that at the centre of a mindmap

get mindmapping, build out the branches until I feel like I have a good sense of the major components of what makes that particular zing work

Give the characters a goal or need that must be met by the scene

unlearn shame and embrace joy. If time does not permit to unlearn shame and embrace joy, you can substitute by covering your screen while you write or playing music really loudly

write. Whenever the fic gets stuck, go back to the mindmap and pick a new branch. Put your zing at the centre of every paragraph

for tips on the writing, also refer to essay above

General smut writing tips:

focus on the sensation, not the choreography

give the scene structure. build towards something and then have a denouement

characters gotta want something at the beginning of the scene that is not an orgasm. At the end of the scene they should have it or be on the path to it

Drive plot through action. Remove dialogue and discussion and show those elements through touch

pick your terminology set and don't be afraid of repeating those words

Example below with nsfw text (though please don't be reading this at work I'm not responsible for that)

ok here's an example of how I put that into action for my fic 'I didn't just come here to dance' wherein Simon wears a plug to the club

my zing is sex toys worn under clothing

my mindmap

sorry this is terrible to read my handwriting is and has always been awful.

But here there's a few things that are on the mindmap. I've got public, sensation, discovery, denial, comeplay, and play, with their little branches off of them. Some of this is written as I go, some of it is omitted and included in the writing depending. It's a guideline

4. ok gonna be real this scene has less of a clear goal cause it's written to prompt, but here Simon has a goal of driving Wille out of his mind and Wille has the goal of showing Simon how much his mind was blown. So that's trust and partnership and communication.

But fr. ex in a longer fic I wrote, I put in a scene scene to show that Simon is feeling disconnected and frustrated and trying to distract himself from his uncomfortable feelings (not about Wille) through sex. So Simon has a goal and Wilhelm has a goal of taking care of Simon and they both can't get exactly what they want.

5. we keep working on this one! Sometimes I stare out the window at the mountains while I'm writing a smut scene so I don't see what my fingers are doing

6. but now I've got: a scene about trust and communication where there's a sex toy. Denial is a key component so they're in a situation where they can't just leave. But they're also going to be distracted so it needs to be a situation where they aren't focused on something else. So now they're at the club with a promise to a friend to stick it out. Voila! A fic.

[nerdygaymormon]

so how do you feel now that the prophet is saying transgenderism is false and not to be tolerated at church? you need to deal with REAL genders, not made up ones

Let me address your idea about real and false genders.

Let's talk about money. There is nothing about paper money that inherently gives it value other than we all agree that it has value. We assign value to the paper and that makes it a social construct. Yes, it's made up, but it's also real. Money has real value in our world and has real impacts on our lives.

Language is another example of a social construct. We agree that certain sounds mean certain things and voila, we now have a language. Nothing in the sounds innately means "lion" or "paper" or "moon," which is why we spend many years teaching language to children. Language is made up but it's also real.

Gender is similar. What it means to be a man or a woman, all the traits and qualities we as a society assign as masculine or feminine, that's a social construct. Gender is real in that we agree to it, it has real world consequences. Entire systems of privilege and oppression have been built around the concept of gender. Same is true for race, ethnicity, beauty standards, social class, and so on.

Just as the value and meaning of money can change, like how we can use credit cards or crypto, and language evolves and changes (try reading Shakespeare or the original King James Bible and see how well you understand English from the past), our concept of what gender is can change, and we can change the systems build around gender. We can dismantle patriarchy, misogyny and sexism.

By telling people they were assigned a gender and can't stray from it no matter if it doesn't work for them, that they must adhere to all the rules about a gender they didn't choose and which has negative consequences for them, that's a problem. Transitioning reduces gender dysphoria and related conditions, like anxiety and depression. Studies show long-term mental health benefits and a higher quality of life for trans people who transition. The benefits of gender-affirming health care for everyone, not just trans people, is tremendous.

The dramatic improvement in health and quality of life is why every major medical association supports gender-affirming care for transgender and nonbinary people, to not do so would be irresponsible because of the harm caused by restricting such care.

One of the brilliant beliefs of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is that the gospel of Jesus Christ embraces all truth. Another wonderful teaching is that we can tell whether something is good or bad by the fruit it produces. Another feature of this church is having prophets and apostles who can make changes. It's hard to change but the fruit of the church's policies about queer people is evident and the truth being provided by science about queer people needs to be embraced.

[kryannoy]

see me in a bodysuit

DAY 10 | OCTOBER 29 | BODYSUIT

genre: nsfw, smut characters: sub!lyney x dom!reader summary: he rides up the leg thingy in a teasing manner to show off more skin while smirking, ended up being fucked warning: dry humping, nipple sucking, cumming in pants

Lyney wants to surprise you. Now, he always does surprises because after all, he is a magician. But this and that aren't the same. Those are for his audience including you, but this is something he wants to do for you and only you.

He has practiced on this trick of changing clothes in the blink of an eye. It is a tricky move for the Great Magician Lyney, it was a walk in the park.

He has prepared the perfect outfit to show off to his audience, which is you, who is already seated on the couch of your lovely home, waiting for him to start his performance.

He begins with a few card tricks as a warm up. One, two and on the third card trick he flipped the card around and voila! He is now in his little skimpy black bodysuit. He gives you a wink and a bow to end his performance. You couldn't help but to whistle out at him teasingly. You're already eyeing him from top to bottom. His thigh high socks and garter are still on, he only replaced the suit.

You usher him to come closer and he obeys. "Impressive," you compliment. His grin is still on his face.

Your left hand grabbed onto his plush thigh and gave it a squeeze before hooking a finger into it, pulling and letting it snap back in place, ensuring you make eye contact the whole time.

He turns his hips a little bit more towards you and pulls the bottom of his bodysuit upwards to show off more of his skin. Not going to lie, you got turned on by that; him acting like horny slut. You spank him one time before pulling both leg holes upwards until his ass is exposed. Lyney lets out a moan, grabbing onto your shoulders for support. He's already hard and it's visible through his bodysuit.

He moans more when squeeze his ass again. The pout on his face is adorable. He wants you to touch his aching cock but you keep squeezing his ass and thigh. Lyney had enough, he sits on your lap so he can grind on you himself.

"Please! Touch me down there," he whines into your ear, hips bucking into you.

You decided to indulge him without any further teasing since he has prepared a magic show all for you. Your hand reaches down to his cock and he begins to rut even more. Your other hand goes behind him and moves the panty aside to touch his hole.

Lyney whimpers as he buries his face into your neck. You put more pressure onto his hole and purposely not putting it inside. You can tell he was trying to maneuver his hips so your finger will slip inside but of course you're not going to let that happen. So, you scrunched the panty and held it up like a wedgie, using that to handle him better. It creates a delicious tightness around his cock yet allows him to friction on his hole. You guided him to continue grinding down on you.

He was whining like a little bitch in heat and moaning so loud as if he purposely wants to let everyone know he's being fucked so good.

His movements became faster and sloppier, chasing his own euphoria, back arching so deliciously that his nipples were poking. You bend down and sucked on his nipple through the bodysuit while pumping his swollen cock. He lets out a high pitched moan that surely will be heard by your neighbors.

"I'm close, so close!" Lyney warns but only seconds then, white cum spurts out through the fabric, staining the bodysuit and a bit on your hand. He came so much it drizzled down to your pants. You give him some time to catch his breath before laying him down on the couch.

"Oh, we're not done yet."

[pocketseizure]

We Should Have a Sequel

After his attempted invasion of Brooklyn, Bowser has been confined in Peach’s castle. Luigi is afraid his brother will land himself in trouble if his attention isn’t captured by a new diversion, and what better way to stir up excitement than to set the Koopa King free? 1,700 words . Rated T . ( also on AO3 )

The interior of Peach’s castle was far larger than it appeared from the outside. Luigi still got lost on occasion, but he had no trouble finding the room where the Koopa King was imprisoned. Even hidden in a far corner of the castle, and even trapped inside a thick wall of glass, the man could be heard from yards away.

Luigi hadn’t told anybody about his intention to pay a visit to Bowser. Not that anyone would pay attention even if he did. Worlds away from Brooklyn, Mario was still the star of the show.

Luigi didn’t mind that the spotlight was on his brother. Far from it. He had no desire to be the center of attention for their enormous family, nor did he want anything to do with the endless parade of games that amused the princess.

If Luigi knew his brother, however, Mario would eventually grow tired of Peach’s obstacle courses before long. When that happened, there would be trouble.

He’d seen it happen before, countless times. First Mario quit the family business, and then he quit trade school. Then he quit the only contracting service that would hire them, only to blow their savings on a commercial narrated in an old-world accent their grandmother would have been ashamed to hear, rest her soul. So why not jump directly into the sewers under Brooklyn? That would show everyone, sure. No misdemeanors there.

Brooklyn was one thing, but the Mushroom Kingdom was something else entirely. If Mario made impulsive decisions here, it could have serious consequences. Luigi sometimes caught the princess watching his brother, and he feared the sharp edges hidden underneath her frills.

Ever since they were kids, Luigi always went along with everything Mario proposed, but something had changed. His patience had worn thin. Spending a few days in a cage suspended over lava would do that to a guy. Someone needed to take action before Mario became a danger to himself and everyone around him. For better or worse, that someone was him. 

There was no door blocking the room where the princess had imprisoned Bowser, nor was there anyone to stop Luigi from walking right in.

Bowser didn’t notice. He was too busy banging at his keyboard and wailing. As far as Luigi could tell, the song was pure nonsense. Bowser was almost kind of cute, he thought, sort of like the stuffed dinosaurs they used to sell at the Natural History Museum when he was a kid. They probably still did, for all he knew. It had been years since he’d been across the bridge to Manhattan. It was just a short train ride away, but it always seemed like too much trouble.

But that was then, and this was now. He didn’t need Mario to hold his hand.

Luigi reached forward and tapped the bottle. 

Bowser wasn’t the least bit surprised. He shot Luigi an annoyed look. “Hey, can’t you see I’m jamming here?”

“Sorry to interrupt. I don’t know if you remember me, but, well. Anyway.” Luigi fished his glass cutter out of his pocket and held it up for Bowser to see. “I thought you might like to get out.”

“What makes you think I want to leave?” Bowser snapped.

Luigi didn’t know what to make of that response, but he soldiered on.

“Sorry, um. Just try to hold still.”

“No. No no no no.” Bowser shook his head. “You think you are going to help me with that tiny little tool? Don’t be ridiculous.” He extended a claw and, in the blink of an eye, sliced off the cork end of the bottle. The glass fell and struck the floor with a resonant peal.

“Et voila. Nice and clean,” Bowser gloated, blowing a puff of dust from his claw.

Luigi lowered his glass cutter. So much for his genius plan.

“You could have gotten out this whole time?” he asked.

“Of course. Who do you think I am?”

“Why didn’t you, then?”

“I was waiting. Like a gentleman.”

It took Luigi a moment to realize what Bowser was talking about. “You were waiting… for Peach?”

“That’s Princess Peach to you. She was bound to come eventually, when she realized how much I love her.”

Luigi gazed at the small creature perched comfortably on his tiny piano bench. Unaware of how silly he looked, Bowser was the picture of smug confidence. Luigi was starting to regret this conversation.  

“Listen, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think she’s coming anytime soon. What is it you like about her anyway?”

‘I’m glad you asked,” Bowser replied, turning back toward the piano.

“Wait!” Luigi interjected quickly. “Don’t start singing. Please. You can tell me with, you know. Words.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Bowser began counting his fingers. “One, her sweet soft skin. Two, her bright silky hair. Three, her lack of teeth.”

“I think she has teeth,” Luigi remarked.

“Not ones that hurt,” Bowser replied. “And four, no fire breath. Is that not perfection? I’ve never laid eyes on a more divine being.”

Luigi thought for a moment. “Does it have to be her?” he asked.

Bowser narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is, you might just have a thing for humans. So you don’t have to marry Peach. It could be any human. It could be me. For example.”

“That’s an interesting proposition.” Bowser stood from his bench and took a step forward. In the next moment, he was standing in front of Luigi, full-sized and larger than life.  

Luigi stepped back in alarm, and his heel caught the hem of his overalls. Of course I would trip, he thought as the moment spooled out in a frayed thread of embarrassment. 

Whatever athletic ability ran in the family, none of it went to him. Mario could run magical obstacle courses day and night, but even the thought of jumping around while hopped up on mushrooms made Luigi’s stomach turn. He was more of a bookkeeping kind of guy, truth be told. He was the one who remembered the keys and the phone and the toolbox. And the glass cutter, for all the good it did. Despite his brother’s many faults, he was half the man Mario was, and he had no business getting himself into this sort of mess. 

Bowser clutched Luigi’s arm, pulling him back. “Hold still,” he ordered.  

Time seemed to melt like butter as Bowser traced the contours of Luigi’s face with his claws. His breath was like gasoline and hot tar under the summer sun. It was a smell Luigi always loved, back when he would drive to Jersey to buy beer and cigarettes for his uncles. He’d fill up the family van and sneak glances at the strong callused hands of the men who pumped the gas.  

“So you’re a human too,” Bowser observed as he toyed with a strand of Luigi’s hair. “What does a human want from me?”

“I thought maybe you might like to give it another shot,” Luigi stammered. “You know, conquering the Mushroom Kingdom. It’ll keep things interesting. Second time’s the charm, right?”

Bowser grinned and clapped him on the shoulder.

“You’re all right, Luigi. You know what, I might have some use for you. And the other humans will bend over backwards to rescue you. How’d you fancy coming to my castle for a visit? Special invitation only, if you catch my meaning.”

“I’d like that,” Luigi answered, amazed that Bowser would agree so readily.

“Excellent. It’s a date.” Bowser struck his shoulder once more, and Luigi could feel his bones creak under the weight of his massive hand.

Before Luigi could think to say anything else, Bowser vanished in a cloud of fluorescent sparks.

Luigi stood and stared at the empty space where Bowser had been. “He remembered my name,” he muttered.

“Of course he did. Who do you think he is?” snapped a peevish voice at his back. Luigi spun around to find a turtle in a hooded robe glaring at him through the thickest pair of glasses he’d seen on this side of the 1990s.

“Kamek at your service. Charmed, I’m sure. I came to pull His Majesty out of his ridiculous slump, but it seems you beat me to it. Care to explain the little scheme you’re hatching?” he asked as he tilted a wicked-looking wand in Luigi’s direction.

Luigi panicked. “My brother’s going to get himself in serious trouble if he doesn’t have a distraction soon,” he blurted.

“And you’d put both of our kingdoms at war to amuse your brother?”

“You looked like you were having fun the last time,” Luigi answered honestly.  

“You’ve figured it out quicker than most,” Kamek said with a sigh. He lowered his wand. “Fine. Fair enough. You seem like you have a decent head on your shoulders. I’ll do you the courtesy of not asking why you’re attempting to seduce the king.”

“I’m not – ”  

Kamek cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Don’t waste my time trying to deny it. I just hope you know what you’re getting yourself into. His Majesty can be a bit much.”

“I have experience dealing with big personalities.”

Kamek clicked his tongue in annoyance. “His personality isn’t the only thing that’s big about him. I suggest you take advantage of your time here and do your research on mushrooms. Their effects can be quite useful to someone in your situation. The last thing I need is to mop you off the bedroom floor.”

Without another word, Kamek vanished into a puff of sparks. Bowser must have learned it from him, Luigi thought as he smoothed back his hair. And was that old turtle seriously suggesting…?

It was entirely possible he’d bitten off more than he could chew, but for once in his life he’d managed to make a decision on his own. He’d just have to live with the consequences. Hopefully said consequences wouldn’t be too unpleasant; he could happily live the rest of his natural life without ever seeing lava again.

He hadn’t intended to seduce anyone, but that hardly mattered. Bowser didn’t outright reject him, and that was a victory worth celebrating. He’d just have to wait and see what happened next. For the time being, it probably wouldn’t hurt to experiment with mushrooms. Why not. After all, he might just have a date with a fire-breathing dragon. What could possibly go wrong?