#what are you doing to contribute to the community hm

[nottswitch]

people who complain about the lack of fics and demand new stuff from writers are usually the ones who don’t have a single fic reblog on their account. hm. how funny is that.

[rileyslibrary]

“You need to.”

“Need is a strong word, soldier; I need water, food, and sleep.” He states and points at the bunny costume you’re holding. “Now, this, I don’t need to do.”

“Come on, Lt., do it for the kids!” You beg.

He looks out the window at the funfair outside. Christmas, Easter, and Halloween festivities are held yearly at the local park, and the military base is expected to contribute somehow. Things like cooking and baking for example, or helping with the construction of the rides, and assisting with the general operations, were a few of the tasks you had to undertake. Apart from the famous egg hunt, the community has organized a variety of other activities this year, including egg and spoon races, potato sack races, and pony rides.

“Why don’t you put it on then if you care so much about the kids?”

“I’m on face-painting duty.”

“Why can’t I do the face-painting?” He asks, pointing at his black-painted, camouflaged eyes.

“We talked about this, Lt.,” you say and extend the costume to him, “you were the chosen one.”

The phrase ‘the chosen one’ was an exaggerated one but, in some ways, accurate. A few days before such events, the base held a raffle to determine who would perform as Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. This year’s ‘lucky’ winner happened to be Ghost. You never did that for Halloween though, since there wasn’t an official ‘mascot’ apart from the pumpkins, and according to the Captain, “you were all monsters anyway.”

“I bet Soap planned all this,” he snaps, pointing to the fair outside, “I bet he rigged the raffle and wrote my name on every single ticket: Riley, Riley, Riley, Ri-”

He stops upon hearing your long sigh. “Soap would never do something like that,” you shake your head.

“Oh, yeah?” he asks, peering out the window again. “Where is he anyway?”

“He’s helping the kids at the shooting gallery,” you admit and quickly regret it.

“I’d be great at teaching kids how to aim!” he yells, raising both hands, “why does he get to do that?”

“You’d be the star of the show, Ghost!” you encourage him as you wiggle the suit. “The Easter Bunny!”

“I don’t want to be a star, soldier,” he snaps, shooing the costume away, “plus, I hate dressing up.”

“Um, Lt., sir?”

“Hm?”

“You’re wearing a mask with a skull on.” You murmur, raising your brows.

“That’s for a different reason, and you know it.” He stiffens and narrows his eyes at you.

You must come up with a solution quickly. There’s no way to persuade an grown ass man, especially a frightening one like Ghost, to dress up in a fluffy costume and cosplay as an imaginary character if he doesn’t want to.

“You can’t go outside with that cover of yours, especially on Easter,” you explain. “Now, this, on the other hand, comes with a full mask on...” You say and lift the bunny costume by the shoulders.

He groans and rolls his eyes. That’s his way of contemplating the idea.

You shrug and look at the costume. “I’d consider it a deal, to be honest.”

He looks at the costume, then back at you, takes the costume from your hands without saying a word, and goes to the toilet to get changed.

A short while later, he returns, this time in the form of a 6.5-foot-tall, fluffy, white bunny with pink ears. His hands—or rather, his paws—are hidden in the costume’s pockets, and he diverts his masked face away from you.

You swallow your laughter and nod vigorously in response.

“So, what do I do now?” he asks defensively. 

“Just act like the Easter Bunny.”

His ears and whiskers wiggle as he turns to face you. “How does the Easter Bunny act, soldier?”

That’s an excellent question. See, the Easter Bunny is cheerful and quite energetic. Ghost, on the other hand... well, let’s just say he’s doing a pretty good job on Halloween at the House of Horrors.

“J-just wave at the kids, Lt.,”  you shrug and hand him a basket full of Cadbury creme eggs, “and blow the occasional kiss.”

“Like this?” he asks naively and pats the mask’s buck teeth with his paw.

“Yes sir,” you reply, looking down at the floor to hide your smile, “exactly like this.”

[earthytzipi]

hm. gotta be honest, i don't understand why people characterize donnie as hiding his emotions in fandom. I feel like, maybe it's just a misunderstanding of autism in general? so here, have an internet-speak version of a character analysis:

first, you guys need to know that alexithymia makes it so you're not processing your emotions. which can fool you into thinking you don't have them at all, even if you're actively demonstrating emotions. and this can contribute to flat affect, especially if you only have a flat affect on occasion.

I would not say it's common for people with alexithymia to be deliberately hiding emotions. I'm not even sure it's possible for a lot of us, honestly. if all I can identify is "bad," at best, how am I supposed to smoothly hide my emotions behind an inscrutable expression? if that happens, it's not on purpose.

donnie definitely has alexithymia. see:

donnie has never once in canon tried to hide his emotions, at least to my knowledge. he never shows signs of being embarrassed by genuine emotion- surprised, maybe, but not embarrassed. hiding them is not something someone whose: "oh, uh, I'm really... sad?," the best he can do to mimic an emotion he's not feeling, would be able to do. he's canonically a terrible liar, too: "what??! I said mystic-free!!"

if nothing else, "I don't normally feel things but that one got through" should be an indicator that he's not hiding his emotions. it's, again, not that he isn't *having* them (he so is) but that he's not *processing* them as emotions.

I'm not sure if this is just another "allistic and autistic people have a serious communication barrier where both sides fail to understand the other," or what. I would just love to stop seeing that characterization in fandom 😅 also GIFS! to prove my point. a character who was unfeeling/deliberately hiding their emotions would not be like... this whole situation:

[feefymo]

Abt the game of the fic combination pls

Character: Pre-Cult Kai Anderson

Kink: pegging

Word: first time

(c) Lee

WARNINGS! WARNINGS EVERYWHERE! My dear anon, hi! Well, it wasn't easy. It was my first time writing for Kai (an insidious and deeply controversial character for me) and starting from his pre-cult version represent a great and exciting challenge! I'll be honest: the plot is thin compared to the smut but I hope you'll like my choices relating to the sexual sphere of "that Kai"! Have fun!

"Ssssure, bro. Squeeze those brains properly." Vincent, Kai's older brother, had appeared at the top of the basement stairs to remind him of a weekend commitment. For his part, Kai had closed the laptop in a snap, rolling his eyeballs in his skull before giving his relative a kind of formal smile. A grimace, on which his eyebrows pressed impatiently. "Sooner or later he'll realize that I can't stand him." the boy stated monotonously, reopening the computer and then stuffing a Cheetos into his mouth. You leaned over to lick the thumb of his hand that remained in mid-air, thus regaining all of Kai's attention in an obsidian gaze. "He's already noticed. You said it yourself: he's a shrink."

You and Kai Anderson had met on a dating app through which you discovered you lived on the same street. Neither of you were ever too excited about the idea of ​​going out, which is why you had never met before. In short, you had started dating without commitment but by now it had been going on for about six months and there were those who labeled you as a couple of real freaks. Winter, Kai's younger sister, never failed to tease you, begging you to dump her weirdo brother if you cared about a decent future. However, as much as you wanted to make sure it wasn't anything serious, you spent most of your time together. Symbiotic in your strangeness, you spent hours and hours in that basement surfing the dark web, smoking, sharing long silences or fucking. And, oh yeah, you two fucked a lot.

“Have you ever heard the story that Walt Disney got himself frozen like an Eggo?” the keyboard stopped ticking so Kai could ask the question. He curled up on the sofa, resting his chin on one knee with his enchanted gaze on a fixed and indefinite point of the screen. "Mh-mh." you nodded at him as you downed a couple of antidepressants with the now lukewarm beer. “Such… fl4tty_h3arty91 says she has the photos.” it was as if Kai was debating whether or not to be skeptical about it. He had been sailing all afternoon, in the most unpleasant and disturbing meanders of the internet, but his dissatisfaction increased along with his morbid, senseless searches. At another moment you would have been enthusiastic to indulge him but then and there you remained staring at him as he stared into space before him. "Let's look at them later, Walt won't thaw anyway." Slowly, very slowly, Kai turned his head in your direction to try to understand why you weren't interested in something tasty like that. Then he understood and a sinister smile, vaguely sedated, began to illuminate him like a power plant gradually coming into operation. "What are you doing? Are you going to suck me a little, Disney villain? Hm?" he hung onto one of your braids with his fingers still dusty from corn snacks and tugged on it playfully. He rolled it around his wrist, immediately becoming serious again but no less attracted by what your body communicated. On the other hand, you were wearing his t-shirt and a pair of his boxers and that alone helped to turn him on. Although your clothes were loose, Anderson could perfectly see your body moving sinuously towards him. Without having to worry about tying your hair back, like a feline, you got down on all fours from the sofa and then positioned yourself between Kai's thighs and caressed them. Scratching the thick fabric of the jeans that covered them. In the background, a playlist of electronic music that had been repeating itself on a loop for too long, contributing to both of your anguish. Making both of you as dangerous as thunderbolts.

“Yummy…” you whispered sarcastically with a cheeky expression as you unbuttoned his jeans. Your mouth hung limply open on the last vowel and your tongue emerged from there. A lapping on the stretched fabric of his boxers. Two, as Kai traced the parting on your skull with an index finger. "Mmmh, hungry?" he asked you, yawning, not because he wasn't involved but because, in a certain sense, he was relaxed. Accustomed to and, at the same time, fibrillating at the idea of ​​cumming thanks to you. When your response resulted in repeatedly slamming the tip of his cock against your inviting lips, Kai swallowed dryly, arching his back. He sat back with a sigh, his neck tilted back. The cell phone rested between his dilated pupils and the ceiling. He scrolled it aimlessly, lazily matching the rhythm of the blowjob. He was enjoying it when a vulgar snap signaled the end of the games.

"You know what? I had something else in mind." you pondered in a loud and hoarse voice, as if you hadn't already planned everything to your liking. Confused, a little irritated, Kai watched you with his eyebrows noticeably raised. "What the… ? Y/N, before you got out so you could finish the job." but you wouldn't listen to Kai's complaints because, with your back to him, you were busy dragging your backpack close to you. "Maybe you've forgotten, maybe you're hoping that I've forgotten, and then I'll remind you: we made a bet on Monday and you…?" poisonous as ivy, you started climbing on top of him, and he reached into the t-shirt you were wearing and grabbed your tits. He groped your boobs firmly, moving his thumbs over the nipples as if they were joysticks. No, he hadn't forgotten and you could see it on his face worthy of slaps. He inhaled theatrically through his perfect nose, trying to appear like a sphinx in your eyes. "Lost. I lost it." you nodded, pleased like a mother and then involved him in a voracious kiss. Hypnotic. "So? What are your intentions? You're missing what you need." Kai added quite sure of what he was saying, lifting his pelvis so that his erection would pass through your pussy from the outside. You exhaled an excited laugh which was enough to disconfirm the certainties of the young slacker. "You don't… have it in your backpack, do you?" you preferred not to say a word, in fact, you took all the time in the world in rubbing yourself against him and then climbing over him and pulling out the harness. "Oh, shit. You really have it." "When I tell you to take me seriously, you have to take me seriously." “What if I don't want to do this anymore?” "But you want to do it. I know it… I feel it…"

Kai snorted, hitting a brown strand with his breath. He couldn't resist you, he was horny by now and you were making his life difficult. You spoke to him like a mermaid from the depths and, in the meantime, you slowly took off your boxers to reveal to him the nakedness of your cunt. You ran your fingers through it under Kai's greedy supervision, "I suppose I can't just jerk off while watching you." so you, stoic, shook your head: one leg after the other, you put on the harness to which you had applied the dildo. When you masturbated it as if it were real, Kai moaned something. "Okay, you win: stick it in my ass." he pretended to be disinterested, but instead he was subjugated by desire and nervousness. In a series of snaps he stood up and abruptly pulled down his jeans. He let them stay at his ankles, giving you a gesture, as if to say: "here you go, happy?"

"Where should I put myself. What the fuck should I… ?" "Ssh, sssh. Come on, it's normal to be nervous the first time. Lie down, sunshine." with clenched teeth, Kai scanned you before you returned to his mouth: you began to massacre it with kisses and bites while you accompanied him in a supine position on the sofa. "So we're looking at each other?" he ventured with a start of breathlessness, his hand positioned on the crook of your neck and his thumb pressing on the center of your throat. "You don't want to? I'll stand behind you if you prefer. But that way you risk feeling less of a man." but Kai, with a well-defined pout, glossed over your smirk as a proven provocateur. He hung onto the fake cock and then placed his index finger on the tip and made it bounce slightly. "Nah. You're… sexy. Very, very sexy." your eyebrows furrowed as you reached up to grab the lube. "Oh yeah? Am I sexy?" you reiterated, moving further forward and pushing the dildo between Kai's lips. You were pulling the string. You were taking risks and Kai had never been the patient or predictable type. Speaking of which, he bared his teeth and bit the silicone with a very disreputable face. "Relaaaax yourself, Anderson. Be a good boy, come on…" you invited him in a conciliatory and mellifluous tone. You pulled off the huge shirt and pressed down on the lubricant dispenser so that it dripped on you. On the boobs, between the boobs, along the abdomen. Promptly, Kai began spread on your skin until it glistened. Part of that shine stuck to his torso, already naked, when you lay on his all-nerves body. Your slippery fingers drew doodles between your bodies until they became less discreet. "No, no, no: don't tense up, baby. I'll be gentle, don't worry." something never fully expressed bubbled in Kai's armored stomach. In his spirit gangrenous and gagged for years. On the one hand he lent himself to the game but, on the other, he hated that sense of submission. At the same time, that indefinite form of hatred excited him to the point of pushing his hips upwards, effectively making it easier for you. After massaging it externally, you ventured with the slow insertion of a finger and Kai growled. He gave you a hot, tarry look, grabbing your braid and pulling without half measures. In response, you moaned in pain that didn't fail to immediately wet your pussy. Now, Kai had you by the neck in a more than tolerable but alarmed grip. "I don't… like it. I don't fucking like it, Y/N. Fuck!" "Kai, wait! Wait, give me time…"

You wanted to make the experience as less traumatic as possible and you were eager to get to the good part but you knew that the debut would create some problems and, if you didn't find a way to transform it for the better, you would be strangled. Armed with calm, you added more lube and waited for Kai to stop moaning about the second finger. Having found the right spot, you began to test Kai's reactions, whose suffering and piqued grimaces first froze, then gradually dissolved. "Oh, o-oh fuck… shit, fuck…" "What's up, baby?" "Okay I guess… a-ha! I guess… do it again." "How, like this?" you curved your fingers and it was as if Kai Anderson's body was pervaded by a light but widespread shock. A sharp groan cracked like a whip and his eyes rolled up to study his skull. Lips softly parted and jaw hanging as the hand holding your neck softened into a vehement massage. "Now yessss. Yes, yes, yes… so… holy shit, that's the most… don't stop. Don't try to stop, Y/N!" Seeing him reduced to that state makes you shattered. You're soaked, you're anxious as if he were penetrating you for the first time and you stare at him, plundering him with all the erotic details he's giving you without knowing it. Suddenly, abruptly, he clings to the back of your neck, breathing violently through his nostrils and scrutinizing you in turn with a grim look. One, two, three seconds and he kisses you vehemently in a mixture of tongues ​​and verses. "Stick that thing up my ass. Now." Kai ordered you between clenched molars, used to dominating but too high on desire to escape. He hits you with a weak slap on the cheek and then spontaneously decides to get off the couch and walk around it with weak legs. He leaned back on his elbows, bent at a right angle with his head tilted forward. The brown waves of hair following the chasm as you lubed up the strap-on and licked your lips eagerly.

"Are you sure?" “Now, Y/N.” "You're a fucking dream, Kai Anderson." and so saying, you allowed yourself to prepare him a little more with your fingers before sliding the dildo between his buttocks and starting to press the tip against the desired area. Kai dug his nails into the sofa, suppressing a hoarse and prolonged moan, but when he felt full, he stopped breathing for a moment. His back arched noticeably and tears moistened the corners of his closed eyelids. "WOAH!" Luckily, no one but you was occupying the house - no one alive, at least - because, when you started to move your hips, Kai let out a full-blown scream. A lustful scream that accompanied a feeling of dizziness as he abruptly brought his right hand to his cock and tortured the base. It was such a mix of sensations that Kai was already on the verge of orgasm. "Do you like it, angel?" you asked breathlessly and vaguely pleading, holding on to his hips to stabilize your thrusts. "It… drives me crazy." he retorted, so overwhelmed that he drooled onto the pillows. A shiny thread of saliva vibrated in tandem with his continuous cries. Now, his touch insisted on the congested glans while you, in the meantime, kissed the most accessible vertebrae.

"I know you're about to come… I wish I could feel it on my flesh…" "Yes, fuck. I can't-, oh Jesus Christ, anymore!" with his free hand, Kai blindly searched you for any form of extra contact but had to give in to yet another wave of intense pleasure. "And who's stopping you? Who's stopping you from cumming right away?" you tempt him, pronouncing the words well and showing him how much the idea excites you. Kai shudders, letting out a sigh which is followed by a gesture: he begins to masturbate the entire length with implacable ardor. "No one. I do as I please… ah! Harder, Y/N! Yes, yes, more, faster, ye-ees! Talk to mh-me, break me… FFFFUCK!" he wished he had the strength to stop everything and turn around to cum on your face. In your throat. He could not and did not want to interrupt that erotic delirium that fully seized him by reaching an overpowering climax. Spurts of hot sperm abundantly decorated the furniture against which he pressed his erection at its maximum hardness. He no longer saw anything and, convinced he was fainting, he collapsed into a kneeling position, unable to catch his breath. You, visibly drenched along the inside of both thighs, looked him up and down as if in the presence of a blasphemous deity. You dropped the sex toy on the floor. "Kai… ?" "Give me… give me a break. And I won't give it to you tonight."

[russellsppttemplates]

If you let me show you (Charles Leclerc)

Years later, your's and Charles' hearts are still longing for eachother and, perhaps, it was meant to be all along

Note: english is not my first language.

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated, and while I'm not actively taking requests, I am writing some blurbs when I can so if you have any ideas or concepts that can be written in a small amount of sentences and you want to share, feel free to do so!

Tw: past breakup

"As usual, thank you for listening to the podcast", you began closing off the recording for you newest episode of your podcast, taking your headphones off once you were done and your editor gave you her thumbs up, "That was really good, Y/N. I think people will enjoy it a lot", she said as you smiled, proud of how far you got. The idea of creating your own podcast while you finished your degree was just something to keep your mind off of school, despite it being about what you studied since it was something you enjoyed, but it had quickly grown to join other people who, like you, enjoyed the topic. You had gathered a small community that you were very grateful for, especially when it allowed to go to bigger events like TedTalks and sit and talk, as well as meeting them.

Checking your phone for your e-mails, you noticed a new one from someone you had never received anything from before, "what is this...?", you muttered under your breath before letting your finger tap the screen to open it, revealing what looked like an invite to an event, looking at the top to see that you had been sent it a few days ago and, scrolling down, finding out that you had to confirm your attendance until that afternoon, "did you get this?", you showed it to your editor, "nope, but I've heard of other people who come here to record that they've been invited too", she smiled. "Are you plann-", she was interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing, an unknown number calling, "yes?", you said, "Hi, this is from Fondation Prince Albert II de Monaco. How have you been, Y/N?", a seemingly kind man on the other side of the line, "Hello, I've been good, and you?", you said as you looked at your editor, "sorry to bother you during the day, but we've had some issues with our communication channels and are not receiving the confirmation from the people who are attending, and we just wanted to confirm wether or not you are joining us for the evening", he said as you panicked opened the e-mail again, checking for more details about this event, "Oh, you're also allowed a plus one, I don't think your e-mail said that due to the glitch we had", he offered as you looked at your editor one last time, her showing you a dinner she had with family on that night, "yes, I can confirm my presence. Just me, no plus one", you said as you heard him type, "Good, thank you! Since our communication channels are not working properly, is it okay if, in case of any new information, I contact you through here?", he asked before you confirmed, bidding eachother a good day and goodbye before ending the call, "this is a very surreal thing", you heard your editor said, now propped by your laptop as she look at the e-mail, telling you all about why they had decided to invite you, your contribution to spreading scientific knowledge in a simple way and accessible to everyone bring the number one reason, "who knew, hm? My weird little podcast about academia getting me t-, oh, wait, this is a red carpet?", you looked further, noticing their dress code advice section, "what did you expect from the Fondation? Some burgers and fries?", she teased you, "I thought it was, like, an intimate thing, small thing. If I'm going to this, who else is?", you mused while your editor only snickered.

.

After having your friend help you pick a dress worthy of the event, you dropped it at the dry cleaners, which is where you found yourself in the morning of the event, ready to pick it up while the lovely lady went to get it outback when a younger employee asked "I'm sorry, but you are Y/N, from the podcast, right?", she asked as you nodded, "I've heard your voice through these so many times I recognised it almost immediately", she said as she pointed to her earbuds, "I'm very happy that you listen to it", you said as you noticed your dress, clean and ironed being set on the counter, "may I ask what this is for?", she said curiously before who you figured was her grandmother set the bill for you too, "dear, that's not nice for the costumers, sorry about my granddaughter", she half scolded her, "no, don't worry. I'm going to an event tonight because of the podcast", you explained as you paid, smiling before leaving the store and bidding goodbye.

Arriving at home, you tried your best to remember and replicate how Pascale taught you to do your hair, the curls coming out looking like you were from a different era, silently praying they would drop while you fid your makeup. You put one the dress and added your accessories before shaking your curls, moving to put on your shoes and coat just in time for the car they had sent to pick you up and go to the event, "is this your first time?", the driver asked, "yes. Do you notice it that much?", you giggled, "not at all. Just I know I would have recognised you otherwise", he explained, "do you know anyone who is going to be there? It is a big help, so I've heard over the years", he offered, "I don't think so", you mused, "I'm not sure who's invited to be honest", you giggled again, nervous that you should have done your research, "usually actresses and actors, singers too usually, people from non profits, other members of TV shows. Oh, and how could I forget, some drivers usually go too", and it hit you. How did it not hit you before? Charles could be there too, and you not seen him in person in the longest time. Last time you saw him was a few months after you broke up, and it pained you to be in the same room as him, and while you did nothing but be polite to eachother, you couldn't deal with that, somehow always managing to avoid any gathering where he would be. Did you watch his races? Yes, every weekend one had been on you'd take your time no watch it, never breaking your promise and supporting him whenever you could, however you could. Knowing how it would bother you stayed out of anything related to his personal life, only knowing little bits you picked up from interviews and, since he was pretty private, there hadn't been anything related to his relationships, so were you about to know something more? Was he bringing a plus one with him? "Don't need to get nervous, dear, from all my years of this, people are usually very friendly and before you know it, you're already friends", he smiled sweetly, oblivious to the actual relationship you were worried about.

A woman dressed in black guided you on what to to once you arrived, telling you when to stop and pose for some pictures, despite your insistence that 'I'm here for my voice, I don't think people will need to see my face really", giggling and comforting you until you felt comfortable enough, "See?! Stunning, chérie", she smiled before her phone beeped, prompting her to tell her colleague, "Charles is arriving just now, could you go to him, please?", before helping you to the other spot where you would do an interview with someone who also had a podcast that, despite being a bigger creator, treated you with the utmost kindness, "thank you so much for taking some time and giving us your story on getting to where you are today", he said as you shook his hand one last time, thanking him before walking back to the carpet, spotting Charles posing too. And then your heart started doing somersaults, almost like it never stopped doing then anyway.

Charles followed the woman in a black suit as she told him where to stand, smiling in almost all the directions someone called him from before he noticed you, sitting in a high chair with a pair of headphones on your head. Were you here? Your podcast was successful, he knew that much since he contributed, but he did not expect you to be here. How long had it been? Two, maybe three years? You had managed to go to his F2 celebration, just as friends, before, as he now recalled, never setting his eyes on you in another form other than pictures on Instagram or your voice from the podcast episodes.

He was about to head to you when a young fan, who happened to be attending with his parents, asked for his autograph and a picture, "whenever we are home, me and mama and papa watch all your races, you're one of Monaco's pride!", the boy who was no older than ten said excitedly, prompting Charles to open his blazer's button before crouching down to pose with him. Getting up and wishing everyone a good night and event, his eyes looked for you in your emerald green dress, now finding a gentleman in the chair you were sitting previously. Heading inside the venue, he greeted some people before he noticed you looking at something on your phone and confirming it on the indicating plaques, looking a but confused before you looked around and your eyes locked in his, "h- Hi, Charles, Hi!", you said as you greeted him, your movement so automatic that you didn't even think about hugging and pressing a kiss on each cheek of your ex-boyfriend, thankful that he seemed to want to do the same, "Hi, Y/N, how are you?", he said as he looked at you properly. And you looked even more beautiful, despite looking like the same girl he had fallen in love with all those years ago."Are you here alone, too?", you said and immediately wanted to take it back, feeling like you had nothing to do with it, "I'm on my own, yes. C'mon, let's go through here", he said as he guided you on the other way you were thinking of going, leading you to the big room where all the tables were and finding out that the table you'd be sitting in was next to his, "if you need anything, call for me, yes?", he said as he looked for reassurance, "you're going to do great, I just know it".

The evening was beautiful, getting the opportunity to listen to all the projects and ideas people were developing and over all having a good time, and while you enjoyed it, you needed to get some air, excusing yourself from the group and heading to one of the outside gardens, a glass in hand as you took in all that had happened for you to get here. You had never dreamt of this opportunity to come from something as simple as you sharing your thoughts outloud, finding people on the receiving end interested in what you had to say, and to be here was something you still couldn't make out, "may I?", you heard a familiar voice you could recognise anywhere, seeing Charles coming to sit next to you on the stone bench, "it's amazing how many inspiring people are here today, no?", he began, really not knowing how to approach you. You were here alone, so it wasn't like he was crossing a line, he hoped, remembering some conversations he heard in the last group gathering where one of your close friends admitted that you were single still, "and somehow I ended up here, too", you mused before looking at him, his eyes never failing to calm you down and rile your heart up at the same time, "of course you did. Your work is amazing, it's only fair they recognised it", he let slip, "how do you know that?", you quirked your brow as you took a sip from your glass, "I listen to it. Every Thursday I go and look for the new episode", he admitted, "I still don't understand half of the things you defend and explain, but you make it so engaging and, and I miss your voice. I miss you", he said as he looked up at the starry sky before he let his hand crawl along the light stone and nudge yours, your pinkies lacing eachother. You looked at him, a small blush on your cheeks, "thank you, I- I watch all your races too, even the ones that are broadcasted at daft o'clock in Europe", you said before sighing "you know why we did it that way it was", you said, remembering the day you and Charles decided it was for the best that you should go your separate ways.

"I love you so much", Charles said as he held your hands in his, "I love you so much and it is why I think we should do this", he reasoned, although the tears in his eyes, matching your own, reflected the genuine hurt you both knew was dawning on each of you, "I never want to be the one making you hurt, not in a short time or not in a long time", you sniffed, squeezing your eyes further to slow down the tears, "I love you with my whole heart and I'd never want you to hurt, either of us to hurt", you finished as you gave him one last hug, relishing in the feeling of having his arms around you, "you'll always have my heart, Y/N Y/L/N", he said kissing the top of your head, "and it will always be yours to keep".

"Was it really though?", he said, snuffling closer to you while still not touching you more than before even though his skin longed to feel yours, "I don't know, Charles, I really don't know", you said. You didn't like to admit it, but every now and again, you would entertain the thought of what could have been if you had stayed together. How your days could have been if you had him to come home to, or having to travel to races to see him, hear his laughs in person instead of through a screen. It would have been like you had predicted, crazy schedules, long periods away from eachother, but the effort to make it work would have been worth it to have him with you. As you were about to say that to him, you heard heels clicking on the floor, "sorry to interrupt, but the fireworks are going to go off now, I thought you might like to see them", one of the ladies that had helped you in the red carpet said as you both got up, "thanks for letting us know, we'll be up shortly", Charles offered before she walked away while you two followed her, "Would you be willing to come to my place tomorrow?", he asked as he finally laced his fingers in yours for a few seconds, parting when you reached the door, "okay", you said before you were ushered to different places in the crowd.

Arriving home later that evening, you were taking all your makeup off when your phone pinged, seeing a text from Charles, surprised that after all these years he, like you, had kept your number, "Even though we did not spend that much time together today, I know for a fact that I missed having you around and being near you. I hope you have a goodnight's rest", could be read on your screen.

.

"Thank you for coming here. I would've gone to your place but I didn't know if you wanted me there, and besides, I don't want all the attention that it could draw that way around to you", he said nervously, "No need to rub it in that you're more famous than me, Charles", you teased slightly, wanting to clear up the tension in the room that your nerves were not exactly helping, "I mean it. Thank you for agreeing to come and talk", he said before taking a big breath, "yesterday sparked something in me, and I'm not sure it was a spark again moment, I think this has always been here", he admitted, looking qt you in the hopes of getting you to speak about your take on it, "I-, I felt the same", you gulped, "but can we do this? I think so b-", you were interrupted by him, "all those years ago, we said we wanted to focus on our careers, grow and not have to worry about it. And, while I think it could've been good, there's no way to know that the success we have it due to that. Can you imagine having me next to you on your graduation? Signing your contracts? Because every weekend I imagine you sitting in that hospitality, working on your laptop before coming to watch me race and congratulate me, or be the only person in my driver's room to calm me down after a bad race", he admitted, "I know you don't owe me any of that and if this is one sided then I don't want to make you feel guilty about it, but I needed to let you know", he finished as he looked at you. Sighing, you launched your hand to meet his, "I miss you, and I want to have you with me, to get home and see you there, even if it is only every now and then. But I don't want you to feel guilty that you're not here, or that I feel like I'm not enough", you said and he giggled, "Mon ange, you are more than enough. And I'll be the luckiest man alive if you let me have you in my life again. We'll take things slowly, but please, let us go back to how we were", he pleaded as he saw you smile, "mon coeur, we are going to be better than ever".

[circinuus]

two people caught in silence, one kills the hush.

ayatsuji yukito x gn! reader. 1.6k words

as another agent assigned to monitor the special first-class dangerous ability user, you sure are an odd duck.

[this loosely follows the gaiden LN]

❥ my contribution to the ayatsuji enjoyers community. i lack sleep, rip. this isn't the best. but at this point i'm just desperate to write something for this man ('A`) no beta we die like my sleeping hours 👍

In this world, there are two types of people.

One is those who aren't fortunate enough, or perhaps haven't worked their brain hard enough to match the lines of thoughts of people like Ayatsuji Yukito. That much, The Homicide Detective knows well. Sometimes, these people's naivety and simple-mindedness can serve as his harmless amusement. While some other times they genuinely irate his thinning patience. Ayatsuji has met many of these kinds of people.

The other type is those who do not ask stupid questions and are apt enough to follow simple observations and deductions from people like Ayatsuji Yukito. The detective, unfortunately, has only met (mostly heard) very few of these kinds of people; they comprise terrorists, murder instigators, criminals, and what seems to be only one or two actual detectives.

And yet, the person sitting in front of him appears to possess the worst traits of both categories. Ironic, considering they're as obedient and agreeable as a doll—the one thing he finds more intriguing than people.

Case Report One: Ayatsuji Detective Office/ Morning/ Overcast

"This is not bad," The titular detective hums against the warm rim of his coffee-filled cup. "Have you ever considered being a maid?"

If one looks at the window, one will see how the day shows its aquamarine bleakness. Spring is already peeking from the horizon, but the remnants of winter still render the air frigid and the sky cloudy.

Your eager presence—another Special Divisions Agent—is as misplaced as a fully-bloomed spring flower at the quarter end of winter. Much less when your supposed 'target' is trying to trick you into making a cup of morning coffee. Two brown sugars, and no milk.

"Sure, if the costume's cute," you merely give him a derpy smile. "Regardless, I don't mind. It's just a cup of coffee."

Two people, strangers by then, share a moment of silence. Ayatsuji eventually deigns to look up from his erudite-looking book. Golden eyes meet your undeterred stare.

"What're you looking at me for? If so, then go change. Your outfit's over there."

Case Report Two: Marshland/ Afternoon/ Partly Cloudy

Four bamboo leaves and six purple stones.

Two people on the side of an old well by a small river

Ayatsuji Yukito normally couldn't care less for any poor agent sent to accompany his investigation excursions. After all, he's the government's lap dog forced to work with nothing less than obedience, and whoever is sent to him is only the leash that is supposed to keep him at bay.

But his eyes inevitably deadpan at your crouching self. He exhales a long sigh on his kiseru as he watches you observe the base of "the well that grants evil."

(Ayatsuji has clearly underestimated your dedication to displaying your lack of dignity. Your sleek dress suit is a contrast against the frilly maid costume you wore—as you made him coffee and whatnot. As much as he finds amusement in your nonsense, the Homicide Detective had to put the buffoonery to an end before he gets another off look from Tsujimura, or before words about him being an unsightly creep begin to circulate).

"Hm. This reminds me of that 'curse' thingy from Kojiki."

"What a surprise," said he, "You have the capacity to use your head."

And yet as always, Ayatsuji only sighs when you respond to his quip with a proud thumbs up. Perhaps you're just that much of a fool, regardless of the quick observation.

"Like the green bamboo leaves that’ll wither," your voice starts to ebb along the steady stream of the quaint river, chanting the passage from the olden literature. "May you also be green then wither someday. Like the salt tide that surges and ebbs later, may you also surge then ebb away. Like these stones that sink in the water, may you also sink down all the way..right?"

"Excellent work. Now you just have to look for the salt."

Two people, acquaintances by then, exchange empty glances. You look hesitant, attention pacing back and forth between the muddy bamboo and Ayatsuji's orange lenses. The detective is quick to break the silence.

"Go on. What good is your tongue for? Lick it.”

Case Report Three: Ministry of Justice Main Building/ Morning / Clear Skies

Ayatsuji Yukito is convinced something is wrong with your head.

Your nose had scrunched up when you bit the bullet and taste for any existing sodium chloride on that muddy—clearly full of bacteria—bamboo leaves. With a spry motion, Ayatsuji's gloved hand was quick to reach for your shoulder before you can go for another inspection.

"It is salty. Let's just have the forensics examine it to make sure."

"... Are you stupid?"

Your head snaps in his direction, right before you reach for a water bottle to rinse your mouth.

"But Ayatsuji-sensei was the one who told me to taste it!"

Ayatsuji Yukito is convinced something is clearly wrong with your head. On the bright side, fools can't catch colds.

"Sensei," your voice cuts through the detective's solemn reverie, taking him back to the present. "This 'Sorcerer,'... What if he appears alongside 'The Engineer' we're trying to capture?"

"Don't worry," with relaxed shoulders, Ayatsuji assures. "Kyogoku is the instigator who's closely related to this series of murder cases. We definitely won't deal with him soon."

For once, the detective feels retaliation oozing from your being. From the corner of his eyes did he catch your silent protest, mouth slightly taut and eyebrows creasing at his sarcastic remark.

Though it was short-lived as you soon nod to yourself, muttering a determined, almost relieved, 'Roger that.'

Two people, colleagues by then, are now drowned in their own's mullings.

"Good grief," Ayatsuji breaks the silence for the nth time. "I'm starting to wonder whether they made a good decision to station you in this case."

Case Report Four: Ayatsuji Detective Office/ Morning/ Sunny

"What are you doing?" Ayatsuji eyes you sharply.

The case wasn't completely closed, per se. But the dust had settled, and with it, you are back to your usual routine as the watchdog for another dog of the government.

"Making myself a cup of coffee of course," you chirp.

Ayatsuji didn't bother to point out how you arbitrarily used his kitchen supply to make yourself comfortable. Instead, his expression slightly winces as he gets a taste of the beverage you handed to him.

"Four cubes of sugar? I'm surprised you haven't caught diabetes."

"Oh! That one must've been mine!"

His black cat, like a slinking dark shadow meows against your ankle; his calico cat blinking languidly as if its judging your mistake. You make careful steps to set down their master's supposedly correct cup, before deflating like a balloon to the chair in front of Ayatsuji's working table.

"Sorry about that, sensei," your laugh is sheepish, gingerly pushing his untouched no-milk and three-brown-sugar coffee. "But you're right. I'll consider laying off the sugar since you're already sweeter than any-"

"... Go on."

"... No." you solemnly close your eyes as you reach for your overly sweet coffee from his hands. "I have sensed I made a mistake of some kind."

The smell of pleasant coffee beans and cream wafts to your senses, promising a warm and energizing wake-up call from the haze of the morning and the remnants of your fading painkillers. What you have are mere grazes on the leg and a couple of broken bones, really. It doesn't matter as long as your responsibility is safe and sound.

"Ah. (Name)-kun, that's-"

"Whoa there! Wasn't that an indirect- AH that burns!-"

Ayatsuji, once again, sighs into the warm rim of his cup - the correct one, this time.

Translucent rays of the morning sun peek through the blinds of the well-decorated room. You're no longer in a maid dress, nor are you currently, stupidly doing whatever absurd request Ayatsuji dares you to do.

But you do resemble a doll, like this. dust particles floating around your eyelashes, you sitting prettily with a teacup in your hands. Have you been this pristine in appearance? Ayatsuji finally took the time to observe your features, curious as to why this slipped his attention for the weeks you stepped into his agency.

What prompted him to start looking, however, was the miscellaneous gauze littering your face, bandages slightly peeking from your sleeves.

His face ever so subtly sours.

"(Name)."

"Yes?"

"Look at the person you're talking to when they're speaking."

"Says you," your empty cup lands with a gentle thud against the wooden table, attention now transferred to the stacks of reports Ayatsuji should be doing for the day. "Say, do you need help with anything? I need your reports done by this afternoon so-"

The sensation of cold steel presses against your skin, startling your speech into silence. It tilts your chin up as it commands attention.

You know Ayatsuji's trusty kiseru too well. But not with this.. almost demanding gesture. Have you not looked longer, the Homicide Detective's sharp gaze will be reminiscent of the deadly one he procured when he faces those he condemned. But,

"You're awfully obedient and trusting towards me," he iterates, emphasis slow and tone deep—as if reciting the 'curse' you once sang to him beside the well.

"Agent (Name), have I perhaps attracted you in some way?"

"And so devoted," said he, turning your head as to appraise the 'battle wounds' —as you like to say it— that you took in his stead.

Two people, now unsure of what they are, are caught in silence. One decides to kill the hush. With the same derpy smile, you took the chance before Ayatsuji could open his mouth.

"Well, you are the detective here, Ayatsuji-sensei."

GOODNIGHT EVERYONE

♡ @ashthemadwriter

[vulturejuice]

[Image ID: A 13-panel comic which depicts two furry characters, a cougar and a stoat, in an argument about political lesbianism. It is coloured in the palette of the lesbian flag, with the cougar in pink colours and the stoat in orange colours. End ID]

This is a comic I made last December as a final project for a Communication and Sexuality class! It was super fun to get to use my OCs for a school project and the research for it was super interesting and meaningful to me as a lesbian myself.

A full transcript of the comic, as well as a list of citations, is available below the cut!

Transcript and image descriptions:

Panel 1: The cougar sits in a chair reading a book.

Panel 2: The cougar turns a page and the stoat enters the frame without the cougar noticing.

Panel 3: The stoat speaks very close to the cougar’s face, startling her. Stoat: “Whatcha readin’?” Cougar: GAH!

Panel 4: The cougar holds the book up to the camera, revealing the phrase “POLITICAL LESBIANISM” on its cover. The stoat looks at it with her hand on her chin. Cougar: Oh... I was just reading this book about POLITICAL LESBIANISM Stoat: Oh hm

Panel 5: The cougar reads from a stack of papers. The stoat puts her hand to her cheek and closes her eyes. A thought bubble comes from the stoat which depicts women standing in a circle holding hands while two men look on angrily. Stoat: That’s that thing from like the 80s, right? Where feminists thought all women should be lesbians? Cougar: Yeah, the Leeds Revolutionary Feminists put out a paper detailing as much in 1979. 

Panel 6: The cougar shrugs, holding the papers out towards the stoat. The stoat grabs for them excitedly. Cougar: Basically, anyone who associated with men was the enemy! Stoat: Hey, sounds good to me! Who needs ‘em, right?

Panel 7: The cougar puts her hands on her hips and glares at the stoat. The stoat holds the papers and frowns. Cougar: Oh, come on! Gender essentialist much? Not to mention their focus on the penis as a tool of oppression... Where does that leave pre- and non-op trans women?

Panel 8: The stoat’s eyes widen and she points at the paper. The cougar throws up one hand in exasperation. Stoat: Wait! It says here that a political lesbian is a “woman-identified woman.” Shouldn’t that include trans women? Cougar: Not what that means!

Panel 9: The cougar turns to the camera and raises her finger in the air. She pulls a new stack of papers up from outside the panel. The stoat looks between the papers she is holding and the new papers in confusion. Cougar: In their 1970 manifesto, the Radicalesbians ask that women craft our own identities by relating to each other, not men’s ideas of what we should be. They’re not really talking about gender identity the way we do today.

Panel 10: The stoat puts her hands on her hips and throws her head back, holding her papers to her side. The cougar puts out her hands in protest, and the papers she’s holding fall. Stoat: Right. I guess you think everyone was transphobic back then. Cougar: Hey, I never said that!

Panel 11: The cougar lifts up a small record and smiles down at it. The stoat glares at it as she tucks her papers under her arm. Cougar: Take the radical feminist lesbian separatist music collective, Olivia Records! They supported and even bodily defended their trans sound engineer, Sandy Stone, when her role at the collective was questioned and she was threatened with transphobic violence.

Panel 12: The stoat crosses her arms and tries to interject. The cougar keeps talking as she throws the record away behind herself. Stoat: Sure, but- Cougar: No, it’s so-called gender critical feminists who spit in the face of trans women’s contributions to our rich lesbian history. Our love of women and rejection of prescribed sex roles is what brings us together - not out hatred of men!

Panel 13: The stoat turns away from the cougar in anger. The cougar smiles and puts a hand on the stoat’s corner. Stoat: Oh, whatever! I don’t want to talk about it anymore if you’re just going to tell me I’m wrong all the time. Cougar: Look at it this way... we’re just taking part in the storied lesbian tradition of pointless arguing!

Citations

Ahmed, S. (2016). An affinity of hammers. TSQ: Transgender Studies Quarterly, 3(1-2), 22-34. https://doi.org/10.1215/23289252-3334151   

Enszer, J. R. (2016). “How to stop choking to death”: Rethinking lesbian separatism as a vibrant political theory and feminist practice. Journal of Lesbian Studies, 20(2), 180-196. https://doi.org/10.1080/10894160.2015.1083815   

Love your enemy? The debate between heterosexual feminism and political lesbianism. (1981). Onlywomen Press.

O’Donnell, K. (2019). The theological basis for trans-exclusionary radical feminist positions. In N. Banerjea, K. Browne, E. Ferreira, M. Olasik, & J. Podmore (Eds.), Lesbian feminism: Essays opposing global heteropatriarchies. Bloomsbury Academic & Professional.

Thurlow, C. (2022). From TERF to gender critical: A telling genealogy? Sexualities. Advance online publication. https://doi.org/10.1177/13634607221107827   

Weiss, P. A. (Ed.). (2018). Feminist manifestos: A global documentary reader. New York University Press.

Williams, C. (2016). Radical inclusion: Recounting the trans inclusive history of radical feminism. TSQ: Transgender Studies Quarterly, 3(1-2), 254-258. https://doi.org/10.1215/23289252-3334463

[blaiddllodi]

TOA Anniversary Munday

Celebrating TOA and the people who contribute to make our group what it is.

Repost, don't reblog. Only fill in what you feel comfortable sharing!

Happy anniversary, TOA! Here's to many more years spent together.

(Previous answers here on Raven's blog. Thanks for putting this together Neffi!)

Name: tches!

Pronouns: she/they

Birthday (no year): 22 Dec

Where are you from? What is your time zone? From Germany, but I live in Colorado

How long is your roleplay experience? A few years in 2005, and now my tenure here

How were you introduced to roleplaying as a whole? Uhhhhh probably Yahoo chatrooms if I'm honest, but I spent most of my time in Livejournal communities

How were you introduced to TOA? I found it scrolling the Raven tag and I saw mirae's drop. Didn't join at this time. Then Elf advertised in a mutual server and I was like Hm. Maybe I will.

Do you have any pets? The server knows my beloved Coriander my baby my light my heart. I also live with two GSDs, Ursa and Solo.

What is your favorite time of year and why? (Season, holiday, general period) I love you winter, I love you snow, I love you December, I love you.

What is your IRL occupation? Handwaves IT. I'm helpdesk at my current place, but I've begun learning network infrastructure stuff recently.

Some interests and things you like/enjoy? I like languages and history, esp Meiji Japan and Mughal India. I used to be a lot more active, and I still generally enjoy yoga and rock climbing, but I've accrued some injuries which prevent me from doing this as much as I'd like. Sadge.

What non-Fire Emblem games do you play? Final Fantasy, Pokemon, Ace Attorney, Assassin's Creed, Dragon Age, Bloodborne, Witcher, Kingdom Hearts.

Favorite Pokemon type & Pokemon: Ice or Dragon I think; and Gyarados my beloved my friend my partner (although Delibird is a very close second I love that little dude)

Tell us some funfacts and trivia about yourself! (Optional bonus challenge: if you filled this out last year, try not to repeat what you said back then!) One time a drunk driver scraped my ex-husband's car pulling out of the bar and while he was so flabbergasted that it had happened, me and a friend who had just gotten out of the Navy broke into a sprint to chase the girl down for three blocks before she left the neighborhood.

How did you get into Fire Emblem? My father and I were in the PX and I grabbed Blazing because it had just come to the States and it looked interesting.

What Fire Emblem games have you played? All but Archanea and Tellius. I started Path of Radiance, and put it down at chapter 15 when I got busy. I'll pick it back up again I promise :sob:

First & Favorite Fire Emblem games: First is Blazing and favorite is...probably Blazing still. Elibe is just home to me. I really really like Three Houses and Shadows of Valentia though.

List your 5 favorite Fire Emblem characters across the series! Oh gosh. Raven number one forever, and Dima and Berkut are up there. I'll list five who aren't my roster, in no particular order: Hubert, Hector, Lyon, Priscilla, Lachesis.

Who was the first character ever to make you go “ooh I like this one in particular” and why? Can be any context and reason! Wil. Wil was my first favorite, followed by Matthew. I genuinely loved them so so much my first playthrough I gave them everything.

Any Fire Emblem crushes? 😳 Jeralt can still get it.

If you’ve played (or are familiar with) the following games, who was your first S support? Who would you S support nowadays?- Awakening: Another accidental Chrom victim - probably Lonk or Freddie Fates: I genuinely don't remember if it was Kaze or Jakob - Probably still Kaze Three Houses: Claude - Hubert is my favorite S support he's really good Engage: I literally hard swerved from Diamant the moment Pandreo came on screen I don't think anyone's taking his crown.

Favorite Fire Emblem class? I just really like the Merc-Hero line 🙈But I also love wyverns

If you were a Fire Emblem character, what would be your class and stats? Would you be playable? Infantry sword. I hate to say I'd be a Navarre archetype but I honestly probably would be. Middling strength and con but workable with attention, decent speed, absolutely ridiculous crit stat. Surprisingly high resistance. I'd be a good candidate for Dancer or Mortal Savant.

If you were a Three Houses character, what would be your affiliation? Unaffiliated civilian, but can be swayed to join a cause after some effort. I tend to keep myself a bit at arms length, and it can be difficult sometimes to get my genuine loyalty.

If you were an Officers Academy student, what would be your boons, banes and potential budding talent? Boons: Sword, Bow Bane: Flying Budding Talent: Heavy Armor

If you were an Engage character, which nation would you originate from? No lie, probably Brodia. My family is full of soldiers on all sides

How do you pronounce TOA? 🤔(separate letters, to-ah, other?) Depends on the flow of the sentence. Sometimes toe-ah, sometimes T-O-A

Current TOA muses: Raven, Dimitri, Berkut

Past TOA muses? Sigurd, Igrene, Saber, Petra, Beowolf, Lyn

Who was your first TOA muse? If you no longer have them, can you see yourself picking them up again? Raven my heart my forever. If he hasn't been pried from my grasp for the last twenty years, I can't imagine what might.

Do you believe you have a type of character you gravitate towards writing? I like it when grief and love carve someone into a weapon. I love rage and deep, boundless sorrow. And I occasionally like when they get a little slutty, I'm not a monster.

Do you have characters or types of characters you don’t think you can handle writing, but wish you could? 🤔Hard to say. I like to think my range is pretty good. I've been writing for long enough that I don't really wish - I just do it. I think anyone could write anyone if they genuinely put their heart into it.

What kind of scenes, situations etc do you believe you enjoy writing the most? I like when the narrator is a little unreliable. I like when there's so much emotion that everything becomes just a little bit fuzzy an indistinct, like they're suddenly underwater and haven't realized they're drowning. I like when the narrative is circular and I can call back five posts, or when I can bookend things - dramatic irony my beloved. I love miscommunication, especially when one person takes something and runs with it (RIP Sigurd you were the king of this and your never-shuts-up).

Do you have any scenario in mind for your muse(s) that gets you thinking “man I hope I get to write this one day”? I've been in an AU mood lately. I want more AUs - coffeeshop AU, horror movie tropes AU, cross-fiction AU. There was an idea that I had that I'd like to build up a bit more that I may drop a call for 🙊

Favorite TOA-related memories? All of Raven's threads with elysia's Priscilla and kanoesa's Lucius 🤲I hold them like this. And unrelated to my muses I to this day can't get over And Now All Of TOA Knows You Tried To Kill Ryoma.

Present or past tense? Past. I use present tense pretty sparingly, and almost exclusively for one-off asks. Feels weird though.

Normal size text, small text, no preference? No preference. I use normal size out of laziness. The most formatting you'll get from me is italics for emphasis or for thought patterns.

Got any potential muse delusions to share? 😉 One day I will app Sommie and everyone will have a heart attack. You think I'm joking? You think this is a game?

[suzyq31]

A note to fellow Harmony readers/writers

Hello everyone,

I feel the need to say something about recent events. A post on the Harmony subreddit has given a platform for people to air their grievances about a particular story. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen this happen and have been on the receiving end. And it really sucked. I’ve let myself believe that is part of being in this fandom, having your work ripped apart publicly and regularly.

I would like to ask the moderators of these spaces to please consider changing their stance on this. Adding in a rule that prevents posts like the one mentioned, among others. Again, this really isn’t meant to cast blame on any particular person. There was a comment about how writers need to stop acting like their god's gift to writing or the fandom, and to simply get over negative criticism. I want to clarify I don’t think that I’m special, or that my voice matters because I happen to write fanfic.

I’m no god, but I am a human. One who is dealing with their own pain as best they can. There are real problems that are much larger than fandom. Which makes it all the more difficult when I do choose to escape the horrors, only to find more negativity. I don’t expect the internet to always be a ‘safe space', but I do think fandom spaces can be more focused on positivity.

All of this has made me reevaluate my own role within fandom. I’m giving myself time and grace to make a final decision on how I want to move forward. In the meantime I would encourage anyone who cares about the fandom community to please reach out to the team at HMS Harmony (with kindness, they are also humans with feelings and lives.) If you feel inclined you could ask them to consider adding some caveats on how fics are discussed on public spaces such as Reddit and discord.

On another note, I myself haven’t always been as kind as I would have liked. If I’ve ever said something that’s upset anyone, I’m sorry. I regret some of the ways I’ve shown up in fandom over the years. I’m personally working on my own anger that I wrestle with, in real life and on the internet. Overall I would love to see if we could all think more carefully in how we discuss things, especially people’s creative work.

If you are a reader, there are so many positive ways you can contribute. The number one way is to reach out to those authors whose work you adore, especially those who don’t receive many comments. Tell them what you love about how they write Harry and Hermione, let them know their work matters to you. I promise it will make their day and encourage them to keep going. When you participate in fandom, focus on discussing the stories that make you go hell yes! Make fandom friends, who you can privately talk more in depth about works or what doesn’t work for you in a fanfic. Discord can feel private! But when you have over 5k members it isn’t and discussions that veer into complaining about an author’s choices it can start to come across as a pile up. I know hearing about how my own stories are discussed has left me discouraged.

To quote Albus Dumbledore-"Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic. Capable of both inflicting injury, and remedying it.” There is collective power in how we engage. I’ve personally adored this pairing since I was a young child. To this day I still remember some of the storylines that I would play over and over in my head. I took solace in the magical world when I was bullied and I spent my lunch hours hiding in the library with my copy of PoA. As an adult I’ve turned to writing fanfic while trying to manage grief and the overwhelm of figuring out this next stage of my life. What has stayed consistent is my love of these characters.

It took me 22 years to start writing down my ideas, and I’ve found a lot of joy in doing so. I know many other writers have to. There really is nothing like getting a story out of your head and onto the page, even better? Getting to share it with others who love those characters too. We should think of ourselves as lucky that there are so many different stories out there to choose from. And that so many people choose to share their creativity with the world. I truly think we have more in common than we may realize, readers/writers/moderators etc.

I’ll leave you with this poem, because I find poetry always expresses things better than I can.

All the best,

Suzy.

[discar]

HZD Terraforming Base-001 Text Communications Network

Chapter 40 | Prev chapter | Next chapter Chapter Index

SilverVixen: I assure you, I am almost ready.

FlameHairSavior: Almost as in minutes, hours, or days?

SilverVixen: Days.

FlameHairSavior: Fine.

Icarus: MY part is ready. And if we had gone with my plan, we would be done by now.

ADMIN [Zo]: Please stop bringing that up.

Icarus: Just because you are too immature to accept necessary sacrifices does not change the truth.

ADMIN [Zo]: This isn't even about your actual plan any more, you're just being annoying.

HIMBO: YEAH, WHO'S IMMATURE NOW?

FlameHairSavior: Still you, Erend.

DIVINER: Aloy, what are you doing right now? I thought you had more things to do?

FlameHairSavior: I'm almost done exploring a Cauldron. I didn't want to start something else again if we're ready to go.

ADMIN [Zo]: Which Cauldron?

FlameHairSavior: Iota.

ADMIN [Zo]: I don't have that on my map.

[FlameHairSavior] has sent a [MAP LINK] to ADMIN [Zo]

ADMIN [Zo]: Thank you.

FlameHairSavior: It was tricky to get in. The main entrance didn't have anything I could override. Had to find a crevice entrance.

DIVINER: Why wouldn't it have an override??

HIMBO: YOU KNOW, NOW THAT I THINK OF IT, WHY DO ANY OF THEM HAVE OVERRIDES? GAIA NEVER INTENDED THESE THINGS TO BE USED BY HUMANS.

DIVINER: ...huh. You know, that's actually a good point!

HIMBO: WHAT DO YOU MEAN ACTUALLY?

Icarus: It's an insult.

MARSHAL Kotallo: Do you have anything productive to contribute at this point, or are you just going to continue sniping at everyone?

Icarus: Unlike some of you, I can multi-task.

SilverVixen: I notice that Alva isn't denying it being an insult.

DIVINER: I'm not what?

DIVINER: But anyway, I'm still curious about Erend's question! I wish GAIA was still here!

ADMIN [Zo]: Actually, I did speak to her about this a little.

MARSHAL Kotallo: I don't recall seeing anything like that in the chat.

ADMIN [Zo]: It was in person, not in the chat.

ADMIN [Zo]: Anyway, the Cauldrons are at least generally human-traversible and human-safe due to the fact that humans have wandered inside before. GAIA also anticipated the possibility of humans needing to come in to help with maintenance one day, or perhaps to shut down a malfunctioning Cauldron.

DIVINER: Which I guess is basically what's happening!

ADMIN [Zo]: Exactly. She also said something about the "barest minimum of oasha's safety protocols," whatever that meant.

SilverVixen: Do you mean OSHA?

ADMIN [Zo]: Possibly. This was an actual conversation, not a text, I don't know how to spell it.

SilverVixen: OSHA was the American safety regulation and administration board. They made sure factories were as safe as possible. Warning signs around dangerous machinery, clear lanes of passage, and plenty of safety railings. That sort of thing.

FlameHairSavior: Well, the Cauldrons got the clear lanes of passage right, but they forgot about everything else. This one is damaged from an earthquake or something, but none of the others have been much better.

SilverVixen: I have never actually read OSHA regulations, so I don't know which parts GAIA would be able to ignore or circumvent.

HIMBO: REALLY? I WOULD HAVE THOUGHT YOU'D LOVE READING A BUNCH OF DRY REGULATIONS. ISN'T THAT WHAT YOU DO ALL DAY?

SilverVixen: What do you think I do for fun?

HIMBO: YOU STARE AT REALLY OLD PAINTINGS AND RAMBLE ABOUT THEIR HISTORY WHILE DRINKING WINE.

SilverVixen: ...

SilverVixen: I scanned you when I first entered the Base.

HIMBO: OKAY?

SilverVixen: Judging by your current alcohol consumption, I can tell the exact day your liver is going to give out.

SilverVixen: But I'm not going to tell you.

HIMBO: THAT'S JUST PLAIN UNNECESSARY ALL AROUND.

FlameHairSavior: ANYWAY, Zo, did GAIA say why the Cauldrons have override points for humans?

ADMIN [Zo]: Hm? Oh, that's simple: She didn't. The overrides were intended as emergency access for her own machines, if a Cauldron was cut off from the network or otherwise failing to listen to commands. GAIA could directly control a machine designed for maintenance and have it open the way.

HIMBO: YEAH, THAT MAKES SENSE. I CAN'T TELL YOU HOW MANY TIMES I'VE SEEN A TINKER MAKE SOME GUN THAT SHOOTS LIGHTNING OR WHATEVER, BUT THEN IT OVERHEATS AFTER THE FIRST SHOT AND THEY CAN'T EVEN GET THE CASE OPEN TO FIX IT.

FlameHairSavior: Huh, Tallneck.

DIVINER: What does that have to do with anything??

FlameHairSavior: Sorry, still in the Cauldron. Looks like it was building a Tallneck and got interrupted by an earthquake. You don't see these being made a lot.

ADMIN [Zo]: Looking at the map, that explains why there isn't one in the area.

FlameHairSavior: Uh oh.

ADMIN [Zo]: What is it?

FlameHairSavior: Rollerback.

SilverVixen: I have not heard of that one.

MARSHAL Kotallo: It is a machine based on a pangolin.

SilverVixen: You know what pangolins are? I don't know if they were part of the basic terraforming package, but they shouldn't be native to this region.

MARSHAL Kotallo: Sylens directed me towards some nature documentaries.

HIMBO: REALLY?

Icarus: I'm rarely interested in them myself, but they can be quite fascinating.

DIVINER: Um, should we really be bothering Aloy while she's fighting a rolling death machine??

FlameHairSavior: It's fine, I killed it.

SilverVixen: Rolling death machine? Pangolins are tiny.

FlameHairSavior: Well, rollerbacks are huge.

FlameHairSavior: I just have to finish up this Cauldron. One or two more overrides should do it.

HIMBO: YOU KNOW, THAT THING ABOUT THE OVERRIDES EXPLAINS WHY ALOY DOESN'T GAIN FULL CONTROL OF THE CAULDRON AND CAN'T JUST HAVE IT SEND OUT AN ARMY UNDER HER COMMAND.

ADMIN [Zo]: Correct. It's a maintenance function, not enslaving the entire Cauldron.

HIMBO: TOO BAD.

Icarus: I will admit I was hoping for a personal Cauldron the first time I used an override on one. Many of my plans would have been much simpler.

MARSHAL Kotallo: I am curious, would you have ignored Regalla and the Tenakth entirely, or would you have given Regalla more weapons?

Icarus: It would have depended on several factors. I almost certainly would have needed human support somewhere along the way.

MARSHAL Kotallo: Of course. I should have known.

DIVINER: Aloy! Not that I'm trying to change the subject or anything, but are you out of the Cauldron yet?

FlameHairSavior: Uh, no. Things got weird. It's broken, remember?

ADMIN [Zo]: If you're texting while fighting again...

FlameHairSavior: No, no, the normal exit was blocked so I have to go under the Cauldron and follow a weird path. Bunch of moving parts and things.

FlameHairSavior: And now I'm above the chamber. Guess I have to fix it.

SilverVixen: Do you really believe you can fix a broken factory made by an ancient AI, which hasn't been able to solve the problem in however many years it has been since the earthquake?

HIMBO: NAH, SHE DOES THIS SORT OF THING ALL THE TIME.

MARSHAL Kotallo: In the Grove, she literally brought the lost Visions back to life.

Icarus: I watched her fight a state-of-the-art war machine and come out on top. Note that this was after she fought through about a dozen of those war machines that were already heavily damaged by wear and time.

DIVINER: She's a saint in at least two religions!

ADMIN [Zo]: Maybe three.

DIVINER: Oh? The Utaru are that grateful for what she did with the land-gods?

ADMIN [Zo]: There's been some discussion.

SilverVixen: What exactly do you expect her to do?

FlameHairSavior: Maybe they expect me to ride the Tallneck head along the conveyer belt, shooting hostile machines that try to stop me, let the head reattach, detach a construction arm, and then ride the completed Tallneck up the elevator and into open air?

SilverVixen: ...

SilverVixen: Please tell me you recorded all of that.

DIVINER: I'm already making a compilation video!

Chapter 40 | Prev chapter | Next chapter Chapter Index

[fandomsandflyingstingrays]

My contribution for Acolyte Week day 4: Wisdom/Ignorance!

PIP-0604, known by close associates as Pip, had spent fifty-two thousand, five hundred sixty hours with the human female Verosha Aniseya, known by close associates as Osha. As such, by logical reasoning, he knew her better than any of her organic companions. He was accustomed to her mannerisms and expressions, the contours of her face and the styles of her hair. The human female that knelt before him now checked all of those boxes.

Except that the ends of her hair were singed.

Except that her eyes were harder than he had ever seen Osha’s.

Except that while Osha had thrown him to the umbramoths, she had told him she loved him before doing so. He had determined that her voice had held the emotion that humans called devastation, and his analysis of the situation indicated that Osha had made the only choice that allowed her and all of her organic companions to survive. If the human looking at him now had been Osha, she would have greeted him much more warmly.

The only explanation, then, was that this was Mae-ho Aniseya, known by close associates as Mae. Osha had spoken of her often, an experience that had always been confusing for Pip. Her tone was that which humans typically reserved for those for whom they held a deep affection, but her words did not compute with such emotion. It had been Mae who destroyed the commune Osha had grown up in. Mae who, more recently, had terminated two beings whom Osha had also spoken of with warmth.

These actions, Pip decided, overruled Osha’s tonal indicators. There was only one thing to be done. He activated his spout, spraying oil into Mae’s right eye.

Mae cried out, seizing Pip from his charging station. “What if I reset you to factory settings, hm?”

A jolt of fear pulsed through Pip’s circuits. He protested, loudly, but Mae was unyielding. The world went dark.

A few seconds later, she came back into focus.

If Pip had been re-set to factory settings, he would not have recognized her.

It must have been the Tynnan called Bazil, who had rescued Pip from the forest floor. He had done a few unnecessary repairs that Pip had been unable to identify a cause for. One of them must have disabled Pip’s reset feature.

But if Bazil could do that, Pip was confident Mae could undo it. It would be wise to act as though the reset had worked.

Mae reattached Pip’s head to his body. “Can you run a check on the power system?” she asked.

He replied in the affirmative.

Once he had determined that the system required a five-minute reset, Mae engaged the procedure and went to report to Sol. Once he had been updated, Sol engaged in typical human regret procedures over the numerous organic terminations on Khofar. Then, to Pip’s surprise, the human nodded at him.

“You found him. Your PIP droid.”

“Yes. He’s okay now.”

“I noticed the way you take care of him. Talk to him. You love him, even though he’s just a machine.”

Pip protested loudly at that— just, when used in basic, was usually a derogatory modifier— but neither human paid him any mind. They conversed until the ship’s power returned, and as soon as it did, Mae made a run for the communications console.

“Hello? Is anybody there? Can you hear me?”

“Identify yourself.”

“My name is—“

Mae’s voice was drowned out by a pulsing sound, and a bright blue beam of light passed over her and Pip. Pip’s functionality did not change, but Mae collapsed to the ground. It had been a stun weapon, then. Bazil knew, as Pip did, that Mae was masquerading as her sister. It was logical that he would wish to put a stop to the charade.

But the organic who picked Mae up from the floor was not Bazil. It was Sol.

“Oh, Mae,” he said.

“Master Sol. The rescue team is on their way. Leave your transponder on—“

Sol switched it off. A second later, the ship entered hyperspace. Pip had only spent one hundred ninety-two hours with Sol, but that was long enough for him to know that these actions were incongruous with his previous ones.

Sol picked Mae up from the floor and brought her to a bed in the ship’s living quarters, strapping her wrists down on either side of it. He then took a seat across from her, evidently intending to remain there until she regained consciousness. He didn’t acknowledge Pip.

When Mae finally awakened, it was with the same thrashing, panicked movements that her sister made when coming out of a nightmare. To an organic, it might have seemed that she settled when she caught sight of Sol, but Pip could tell that her muscles were still tensed.

“I have no intention of harming you, Mae.”

“Then let me go.”

Sol crossed the room to stand next to them. “I will, believe me. We have a lot to do. We need to find your master. We need to save Osha. But first, you and I are going to talk. I’ve had sixteen years to think about what I would say to you if I ever got the opportunity. So you’re going to listen.”

Mae’s current position gave her little opportunity to do anything else— and Pip decided it was in his best interests to listen, too.

Sol’s story went against everything that Osha had told Pip. And yet, logically, it made more sense. Osha had spoken of Mae with affection because the willful destruction of their home had not been in conjunction with her sister’s characteristics. It was, however, in keeping with what Pip had observed from Sol. The man who treated Osha with such care could easily have let those emotions override his rational judgments when contemplating her future. The man who had strapped Mae down in an attempt to make her think he was in the right could easily have killed her mother out of a misplaced confidence in his own judgment.

Sol’s story came to a close just as the ship emerged from hyperspace, and Pip began to craft a plan. Above all else, his primary directive was to fix. To make pieces fit in the way that they were meant to. His secondary directive— a self-determined one, admittedly, but it counted to him— was to protect Osha. Freeing Mae would accomplish both.

He nudged her finger, gently, and she began to talk, holding Sol’s attention while inching Pip towards the cuffs. He unlocked his electric prod, piercing the cuff with it and sending a pulse into its wiring. As soon as it released, Mae lunged forwards, and Pip sent a jolt of electricity into Sol strong enough to make him collapse. Mae ran down the hall, but it was clear in her hesitant steps that she had no idea where to go.

Pip called out, indicating the opening for the escape ship, and Mae glanced down at him. It was more ingenuity than a model running on basic settings would show, and they both knew it.

She took him into the ship anyway, making sure he was secure in his place at the console before putting her helmet on.

“Thanks for the assist,” she told him. “I never knew a droid could be such a good actor.”

Pip hesitated, unable to tell if she was being genuine or facetious.

“Don’t worry,” she said, pulling the escape ship away from the main one. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Osha loves you. And you know I love her too now, right?”

Pip agreed, and Mae gave him a quick grin. “Then you and I are on the same side.”

They wove through the asteroid field above Brendok, with Pip offering suggestions and observations as fast as his processor would allow. It didn’t stop them from crashing to the surface, but Mae was on her feet almost as soon as the ship had stilled.

True to her word, Mae plucked Pip from the wreckage before anything else, running with him towards a fortress that Pip inferred must have been her and Osha’s home. As she got closer, however, her pace slowed, and by the time they went inside, she was barely moving at all.

“It was the Jedi’s fault,” she whispered. “But you want to know a secret, Pip?”

He gave a hesitant affirmation.

“I will never forgive myself for starting that fire.” She brushed a hand along a wall, and her fingers came away caked in ash. “If I hadn’t tried so hard to scare Osha into staying, she never would have believed I was the one to kill our family. If I hadn’t fought so hard to keep her here… well, she would have left. But the rest of us would have stayed.”

But then, Pip pointed out, she would have been with Sol, who had proven he was not to be trusted.

To his surprise, Mae understood. “That’s true,” she agreed, patting his head. “I guess you and I will just have to do what we can to look out for her now to make up for it, huh?”

Pip agreed. But another idea occurred to him. It was contrary to his set objectives, but he had a hard time letting it go.

Who was going to look out for Mae?

Osha refused to listen to Mae when she arrived. She fought her, kicking and screaming. And when she yelled for Pip, he told himself he was doing it for her own good as he sprayed water in her eyes, allowing Mae to gain the upper hand. That his attack was only to make her listen, because once she did, she would be happy.

But when another Jedi ship came out of hyperspace and Mae fled the room, Pip didn’t call out to Osha.

When Osha heard Sol confess his crimes, when she killed him, Pip found himself just as glad that Mae had proved her innocence as he was that Osha could at last make sense of what had happened.

When the two sisters reconciled at last, his relief for each of them was equally strong.

And when the human who had introduced himself as Qimir approached, Pip didn’t know what to think. He seemed to no longer be a threat towards either twin, at least, and Pip agreed with his assessment that the Jedi Order would likely not show Osha mercy for what had taken place. But he wanted to reset Mae to factory settings. Having been so close to the same fate, it didn’t sit right with Pip.

Mae agreed to it, just as Pip had agreed to be taken by the umbramoths. They were a team, as Mae had suggested, their directive to keep Osha safe and well.

Only, Osha had a new protector. Mae did not.

Only, Mae had protected Pip, while Osha had sacrificed him.

Only, Pip knew all too well what Mae was about to go through— and he was confident he could help.

So after Mae’s reset, when Osha plucked him from Mae’s belt, he protested.

“You… want to stay with her?”

She had protected him.

Pip was accustomed to Osha’s mannerisms and expressions. He could tell it was guilt that settled on her face now, and as much as it hurt to see her feeling negatively, it made him feel a little better, too.

“I think that’s a great idea, Pip,” she said, placing him back at Mae’s side. “Look out for her, please.”

He intended to. If Pip could come back from a reset, it stood to reason that an organic could, too— and Pip would be ready to fight at Mae’s side the moment she came back to herself.

Until then, he would hold the memories for both of them.

[womaninwinter]

Writing vs Visual Art

Prompts from @insidethekaleidoscope: if you both write and make visual art, how would you compare the experiences?

Have you always done both or is one a more recent hobby?

I've always been doodler and a storyteller, but it's only recently that I started thinking of them as Art. When I was a kid, I thought I was going to be a writer. When I was a teen, I thought I was going to be an artist. And now I'm writing again.

2. Do you prefer one over the other? Why?

I am a better (more practiced) writer than artist, so I am generally happier with the results of my writing than my drawing/painting. At the moment I'm on a writing kick, but there was definitely a long period where I preferred visual art, and I think this also had to do with the online spaces I was hanging out in. When I'm in fandom spaces, the primary way I can contribute is writing, so I tend to do that. When I was not into fandoms, and was just more generally into Insta art communities, I was seeing a lot of art, so I was doing a lot of art.

3. Are you drawn to the same themes in both?

Hm. Now, I never thought of myself as having Themes in my visual art, again because I'm not that good at it and thus I don't have a great deal of control. However, there are definite stylistic commonalities. My thought process tends towards gothic/intricate/exaggerated/intense and both my art and my writing have those characteristics.

4. Do you see them as connected practices?

This is funny. I've never thought about them as connected, mostly because I only seem to have the time/energy to do one creative hobby at a time. The times when I produce a lot of art are the times when my writing is fallow and vice versa. That said, I think that producing visual art sometimes helps unstick me in my writing, but then again, so does writing longhand on paper, so possibly it's just easier to be creative when I'm not taking psychic damage from the screen.

5. Do you feel more confident in one than the other?

As is probably obvious from my answers so far, I'm much more confident in writing than drawing/painting, but this is mostly because I've had more practice and training in writing. I've had almost no formal art lessons (until a couple of years ago when I did a life-painting class, which did actually rule), but writing was part of my education all the way up, and then it became part of my job, as a translator. Wish I had more time to practice/learn art, but alas, the brain worms are dead set on writing right now.

6. Do you do both at once or do you have periods of time where you only write or only make art?

Also mostly already answered. I can do both, if I really make a conscious effort to build it in, but it takes a lot of discipline and I don't have much of that. I really wish I had the brain space to do both, because I love painting and I miss it. But I do still make art in that I doodle constantly - all my notebooks have little scribbles in the margins, of castles and funny little people and flowers. My work diary is stuffed full of little scraps of paper like this.

7. Does one come easier than the other?

I would be tempted to say writing, but it really depends on what type of art or writing I'm doing. I doodle without thinking or even meaning to. If I have a pen and paper, the difficulty is stopping my hand from drawing. But a big writing project (like a chapter of a fic for example) comes more easily to me than an artistic project.

8. Do you feel more invested in one than the other?

This also varies over time and I think is hugely influenced by what I'm getting more feedback about/what forms part of my social life. At present, my social circle really revolves around writing to a great extent, so I'm super invested in that. But up until very recently, my answer would have been 100% the other way around. I have a drawer full of sketchbooks that I was so so painfully proud of.

9. Does one medium feel more true to you or representative of who you are as a person?

I don't think so, although I think I do tend to be more surprised to see myself coming out in my art. I'm often very conscious of what I'm doing in my writing, and I'm usually aware of a lot of what I'm revealing about myself in it. Because I'm less in control of my art, it's always a surprise to see how specific it is to me, that unbeknownst to myself, I was drawing an experience that I was having.

10. Do you decorate your house with your art and do you reread your writing?

I was going to say 'no' to decorating my house and then I looked up to the right at the massive portrait from my life-painting class stuck up on my wall and rethought that answer. So yes to the art, but not a whole lot. I do tend to reread my writing until I'm sick of it. And then I leave it a few months and come back reread it and think "oh hell ya, this girl knows my tastes exactly." (Actually, maybe this is why I'm less happy to decorate with my art. I'm not really good enough to cater to my own tastes there.)

11. What do you find the experiences have in common?

Flow state I think. It's been a long time since I reached it for either medium (creativity's always in bits and snatches with me, because that's generally all I have time for. It's easier for me to write 100 words though then it is to do a 10-minute sketch.) but the sensation of being totally absorbed, of not noticing time passing, and the burning pride and joy when you produce something good is the same in both cases.

All done! Thank you Mo for this very interesting and much needed exercise in self-reflection. I think I'll draw something now!

[kaydens-agere]

Do u think you could write a lab rats x reader with diapers fic

If this makes u uncomfy in anyway pwease let m know

^*^ :D

Ofc!! I'm glad I can contribute to the Lab Rats agere community 🦅 (theres like 3 of us) I hope everyone likes it!! I'm ngl this one was hard for me to write cuz I don't use diapers myself so I hope i did it justice :) (below the cut)

💻Chase Davenport x Reader with Diapers🧪

Having Chase as a caregiver was incredible. No matter what happened, he'd always be there by your side and help you through your regression.

This meant a lot of talk about comfort and boundaries. The subject of diapers did eventually come up, and while you were initially embarrassed, he let you know that he didn't mind in the slightest.

Chase gently strokes your hair as you lay in his lap, you're in the living room peacefully watching Bluey. This arrangement was very typical for you both whenever you regressed, Chase enjoyed snuggling up with you while watching whatever TV show you wanted to watch that day. It was routine at this point, and you both liked it this way.

As you both keep watching, you realised that you've used your diaper. Even with all the reassurance, you feel your cheeks burn in embarrassment and shame whenever this happens, and this time it's no different. You start to quietly whine.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asks gently. "Are you hungry?"

You shake your head, you break eye contact with him as he looks down at you. He furrows his brows for a moment, trying to figure out what's going on. He eventually figures it out and sighs gently.

"Oh, do you need a change?" he wraps his arms around you tightly.

You hesitate but give him a small nod, hiding your face in his chest.

"Hey, it's alright, baby." he soothes, kissing your head. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about, little one."

Chase gently rubs your back with his hand, you sniffle as tears start to well in your eyes.

"Oh sweetheart... it's not a problem, I promise you. I know that you might feel like it's weird, but trust me, coming from someone who lived in a basement for 14 years and saves lives for a living, this is the least weird thing I've seen. I mean come on, have you seen Adam's armpit hairstyles?"

You giggle when he mentions that, Adam's armpit hairstyles were pretty odd. Even when you're feeling upset, he always knows how to make you feel better and how to make you laugh.

"Awww, look at that." he coos. "You're adorable when you laugh, little one." he pulls you into a tight hug and you bury your face in the crook of his neck. "I love you so so much, baby. And nothing in the world will ever change that, I promise."

You give him a little kiss on the cheek as a thank you.

"Oh! Thank you, sweetheart." he runs his hand through your hair before swiftly scooping you up in his arms to take you to the bathroom. "Now, let's get you changed. Can't feel good sitting in that diaper, hm?"

You shake your head. He was right, it was starting to feel pretty icky. He kisses you on the head once more as he walks you his bathroom to get you changed.

Once you're in the bathroom, he gently puts you down on the edge of the bathtub to grab the supplies. He grabs your diaper bag from the corner and pulls out a diaper, baby wipes, baby powder, a trash bag, and a lollipop. He was so grateful that Mr Davenport had given him and his siblings their own bathrooms, that way Chase could keep your diaper gear at his house just in case.

He moves you from the tub to the floor, putting you down on a pillow to make it more comfortable. He lets you know what he's doing before he does it and takes it at your own pace. He gently takes of your diaper and puts it in the trashbag, giving you a kiss on the head for reassurance. He then wipes you down and puts on some baby powder, making sure to praise you as he does. He grabs the fresh diaper and gently puts it on and lets you know how well you did. Over the few times he's changed you, he's managed to get his speed and efficiency down pretty well.

He sits you back on the tub, washes his hands, then gives you the lollipop. You smile as a thank you and put it in your mouth.

"You did such a good job! I'm so proud of you, baby." he gives you a quick kiss on the nose, earning a giggle from you in response.

"Now, let's get back to Bluey. Being in this bathroom isn't much fun, is it?" he grins playfully.

You shake your head as he gently lifts you up, booping your nose as he does. He carries you out of the bathroom back to the living room, and places you on the comfy couch. After he sits down himself, you snuggle up to him, your eyes starting to feel droopy.

"Are you tired, sweetheart?" he tilts his head and looks down at you.

You nod and yawn.

"That's alright. I'll hold you while you sleep, okay?" he said gently, wrapping his arms around you.

You nod as you slowly close your eyes and drift to sleep.

"Goodnight, little one."

[glowingbadger]

Could you do tit fucking with sylvain? 😚

I have a special place in my heart for tit fucking, but I never write it because it requires assuming that Reader-chan has tits big enough for it lmao. So, uh, time for everyone to project into a Reader character with big ol bouncy tiddies, let's go~

Sylvain (FE3H) x AFAB Reader

Kink prompt list #18 - Tit fuck

NSFW 18+

This recent flirtation between you and Sylvain had proven him capable of some amount of subtlety, and yet he's chosen not to employ an ounce of it today. As the day's strategy briefing drags on through scout reports and laborious supply legers, you've felt the weight of his heated stare blatantly admiring you more than once. Your lips, your hands, though most notably, your breasts. He's been particularly fond of those lately, you think with a subdued smile which you hope he won't notice- though when you dare to meet his eye, you see he clearly has. So, at last, you decide to call his bluff.

You pull back your shoulders, pushing out your chest under the guise of stretching out stiffened upper back muscles. After luxuriating on these movements as long as you can without seeming unnatural, you relax, slouching over the table drawing your arms back in around your chest, letting them squeeze your breasts together as your target watches with clear interest. The corner of his mouth quirks upward the slightest bit. Slowly, he drags his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Sylvain, this trade route is through Gautier territory- what are your thoughts on the matter?"

Without a moment's hesitation, he replies with confidence,

"It'll be getting towards winter by then- as long as the scholars keep an eye out for signs of heavy snowfall, we can take advantage of the frozen ground to send heavier goods across the far northern route."

His conversational tone is practiced and rehearsed. It's almost startling how effortlessly he masks where his thoughts truly lie. Yet the moment his contribution is heard and the group's focus moves elsewhere, his eyes are back on you, burning into yours, communicating his desires all too clearly.

~~

"Fuck, babe- you sure you want to do this here?"

Despite his voiced concerns, Sylvain's hips tilt towards you, eager for your attention as you kneel between his thighs, palming the growing bulge before you. Everyone else had shuffled out of the room following the strategy debriefing, likely headed to the dining hall for supper. You'd closed the door after them and pulled Sylvain back towards his seat.

"That's unusually reserved of you, isn't it?" you smirk up at him as you work his now-throbbing erection from his trousers, "Worried someone might walk in and see me playing with your cock?"

He groans, his length twitches.

"Just, uh... wanna make sure it's alright with..." his voice fades as you open the front of your clothes, letting your breasts bounce free before playfully drawing your arms in to squeeze around them. Just like that, he's hypnotized.

"You've been staring at these a lot lately." you run your hands along their outer curves, teasing him with the way they respond to your touch, the way your nipples stiffen in the cool air of the meeting hall.

"'Course I have- they're gorgeous. So soft and full... I can't stop thinking about them," Sylvain pauses to enjoy the sight of you before pointedly adding, "About you."

"Hm, then I guess I won't tease you too much."

You shift closer between his thighs and carefully position your breasts around his cock as it throbs with heated anticipation. Squishing them in around him the slightest bit causes Sylvain to groan between his teeth.

"Damn..." he breathes the word out with his gaze fixed at the point where the head of his member emerges from the soft hold of your cleavage. Though, he's so thoroughly entranced that you're not certain he even hears himself speak.

Locking your eyes with his, you lower yourself and take the thick tip of his cock between your lips. You feel it twitch through its entire length, swelling against the plush but firm pressure of your breasts as your tongue circles his crown. Sylvain's fingers comb through your hair, his breath audibly quickening. You move slowly at first, allowing the warmth of your saliva to coat him, then the motions of your bodies against one another to spread it along the shaft. The new slickened texture aids the process; Sylvain's head tilts back, his body arches toward you, and he groans your name into the quiet of the meeting hall.

"Is this what you were picturing while you were supposed to be focused on our debriefing?" you ask playfully, squeezing your breasts more tightly around him now that he can thrust more easily between them.

"Mmmh, yeah," Sylvain moans, his eyes now back on you, watching your full, perky tits swallowing his cock again and again as they massage him, "Can you blame me..?" he manages a hint of a smirk, his fingertips idly tracing around one of your nipples, "With beautiful tits like these right in front of me- I'd fuck them every day if I could..."

He bites at his bottom lip as he watches you, the same way he had earlier as he eyed you from across the table. The wanton bucking of his hips has him rising from his seat to meet you, chasing the wet, tight friction of your chest, causing your breasts to bounce lewdly with each thrust. You can't help noticing that the way Sylvain moves is effortlessly sensual, teasing your imagination with what it would be like to have him for real. For now, however, he's obviously nearing his limit. His cock is hot and incredibly hard, throbbing with his pulse. You kiss the tip, then look up at him with lust blazing in your eyes.

"Cum for me, Sylvain," you murmur, one part encouragement and one part command, "Don't hold back, I want to feel it."

"Fuck-"

As if in direct response, he breathes in, his body tenses, and he buries himself in your cleavage. Immediately, you feel the rush of heat as his cum spills between your breasts, his thick member lurching with each volley. It coats your chest, dripping lazily down the center of your torso- he's truly let out an incredible amount, and you can't help thinking that this may have been one of his mostly dearly held fantasies.

Sylvain slumps back into his seat, panting as he catches his breath.

"Goddess, that was... you're way too good to me."

"Oh, I know," you say with a teasing smile. He laughs weakly, running a hand through ruffled red hair.

"You, uh. Want some help cleaning up?"

"I wasn't planning to walk out of here with my chest covered in your cum," you reply, and he laughs again, more sheepishly, "Got a handkerchief or something?"

"Here-" he produces one from his pocket with a grin, "For exactly this kind of situation."

[safetycar-restart]

So he can’t be teased!! No no no!! He knows he’s a stupid little bunny, he knows!! So you can’t tease him about it, you have to help him!!

mhm. he's stupid. he has a little, peanut sized brain. no thoughts in it. he just wants mommy and pierre to think for him. himbo. poor, sweet himbo charles.

what gets me is the fact that he KNOWS he's a stupid little bunny. he acknowledges it, and he accepted his fate. he is stupid. he knows and he embraces it, actually. when he can't form a sentence, and instead he tries to communicate with you through his facial expressions, you'd tell him "poor bunny, can't even form a sentence, hm? so pretty and dumb for mommy." and he just nods. yes, he's pretty. he's gorgeous, actually. and yes, he's dumb. why would you have to be smart if you're pretty?

and he LOVES when you point it out. but he doesn't like you teasing him about it 98% of the time. he's okay when you tell him so in bed, but when he's having an actually hard time? oh god, please no! your poor baby bunny! he'll be in tears! the sweet thing cannot handle that, he needs your help and your cuddles. when he tries to help, tries to think of something and come up with something good, he actually tries. because he wants to help, he wants to make you happy. so it's not exactly nice being told you're dumb when you're trying to be helpful. so you don't do that, instead, you help him and try figure it out together. your bunny tries his best!

(himbo!charles is my everything he is so bbg i love himbos)

- 📓

Right I have two things to say. Firstly, himbo!Charles is now a tag because I love it and I need more. Secondly, I cant believe you sent me this masterpiece and then immediately sent me an ask saying you haven't been inspired or writing well. Because uh... THIS IS FUCKING BRILLIANT I LOVE IT?? FUCK OFF WITH THE NOT BEING ABLE TO WRITE THIS IS A MASTERPIECE.

Anyway, lets move on to the actual content of this ask.

Charles has never been the quickest of thinkers, but that gets so much worse when he's with his Pierre and his mommy. The moment he's alone with you and Pierre, he just relaxes so much and his little braincell turns off because he doesnt need to think with you and Pierre around.

He's your little bunny!! Little bunnies dont have to think!! Little bunnies just have to listen to their mommies and their Pierres and be good!!! That's it.

He loves when you and Pierre call him out on that during scenes, because it just makes him feel so safe and subby? It's never framed as a bad thing, and you and Pierre always make it very clear that you're going to look after Charles so that he doesn't have to think for himself.

Charles truly feels so happy and loved!! The happiest dumb little bunny in the world.

However, it's not the same outside of scenes.

Because Charles genuinely does struggle sometimes. He has to put so much effort into speaking sometimes, because it's so much easier to just let you and Pierre take control.

Normally, he has no problem letting you and Pierre make all the decisions for him. But when he actually tries to make a contribution and struggles to do so, then you can't tease him. He'll start crying if you make fun of him, will feel so bad and so stupid and useless.

He needs you to help him then, to hold his hand and tell him you believe in him and give him all the time he needs. He can be a smart bunny! Really, he can!

But he gets so overwhelmed and scared so easily when he tries to make his own decisions, and so he needs you or Pierre to help him calm down. Give him some forehead kisses and cuddles and help him make some slow, deep breaths.

Of course he gets so much praise when he does manage to say what he wanted to!! He did so well!!

Though the praise just turns his little mind to mush and he ends up whining and squirming in your lap.

[iraprince]

I have a writing crush on you. Your writing style is just so cool!! I wish I had your skill for crafting dynamic and interesting personalities for your characters 😍 Have you always been good at it, or is it something you've had to put a lot of work into?

oh man, thank you so much! and hm, that's an interesting question to think about. i don't feel like ive always been good at it, but i also don't feel like it's something i've consciously worked at either — as in, not the way i Work On My Craft the way i do w other aspects of my work, like i consciously study illustration/image as communication, i study draftsmanship, i study comics, but i don't think ive ever rly put the same level of Purposeful self-education+practice toward character writing that i do for other stuff.

but also i think it's just that a lot of the stuff that has contributed to how i write characters has not felt like work or study at all!! i was a really voracious reader as a child so i was just soaking in other ppl's writing like a sponge 24/7, + i was lucky enough to have teachers who encouraged my interest in creative writing; then through middle school i fell hard for shoujo manga, which i think had a huge impact on how i approach character + narrative; then through high school i did a LOT of forum roleplay. (i still do a ton of written roleplay now!!! but only with my wife lol.) i think i can say roleplay is probably a huge part of how i've ended up basically "accidentally" practicing writing way, way more than i would have otherwise.

i have never rly approached character writing from a "how do i make my characters more complex/interesting/Better" or "how do i Hone My Craft" approach, but have always just written whatever i think is enjoyable and cute and fun and interesting, bc making ocs is my favorite thing to do. THEN i'm concerned with how to make really good art + stories with them in a technical sense, but for the personalities themselves i'm just rejoicing in my own tastes.

i think "rejoice in your own taste" is probably what i'm going to tldr as my main take here!