#which is why i am back to square one. i don’t know what to write for any pmd characters in order to make a comic

[heshemejoshi]

wanted to make a comic but words and structures escape me at the moment so instead i just sketch

plus a dusknoir i think i drew before playing special episode 5 back in january based on a papyrus meme which is honestly really fucking funny in retrospect given there’s a pmd x ut AU going on?? not very active in fandom but i’ve seen multiple crossover fanarts pop up already

[theelvishfiddler]

AN ARTIST'S GUIDE TO HANDS

No, sorry it's actually not an artist's guide to drawing hands. Those are just warmup studies (which I'll talk about in this post.)

This is a guide to Your Hands and how to take care of them when making art.

No one ever sits down and teaches artists how to take care of their hands. They didn’t even teach me this while I was in art college. This is just what I've learned myself through years of pain and scouring the internet for advice.

This is going to be a long one and geared towards illustrative traditional/digital/pen/pencil artists specifically, but artists of other mediums and crafts should take care of their hands too! Well, we all should take care of our bodies in general, but this is about hands.

(advice is below the read more)

First off I'm not a professional or anyone with actual medical advice. I'm just some guy with chronic hand pain who makes art. This advice is free for you to use or discard.

WARMUPS!

Ever sit down in the morning to draw and wonder why your art is so stiff and looks so much worse than what you were drawing last night? It's because you didn't warm up!

You know how for physical sports they all warmup and do stretches before getting into the actual sport. To prevent injuries and all that? Yeah, it's good to do that for art too.

One way to warmup is to just draw lines. Try to keep them as straight as you can. Going up and down and diagonal. Draw squares. Big squares. Small squares. Circles! You are warming up, keep it loose and relaxed! Basically just scribble away.

(examples. I usually keep going until there is no paper white left. This can double as practice for drawing straight lines without a ruler, which is a great skill to have when freehand city drawing.)

Before hopping right into drawing people you can try doing some quick gesture drawings. Line of Action has timed sessions with a large variety of clothed or nude models. I usually do the 30 min class as it has a nice balance of short and long timed poses. The point isn't to draw nice art, but to warm up. Try to get the basic form down, not the details. I find that doing a full class session can really help my drawings feel more loose and grounded in reality for the rest of the day.

Some examples I found in my folders. I suggest looking into what a line of action (not the site) is and giving it a try with some of the studies!

COOLDOWNS!

For sports it's to return your body back to your everyday baseline after a workout.

Example; you are working on a big project! A masterpiece! It's detailed and cool! You have been focusing on this for hours and drawing so intensely. But you need to stop working for the day.

A cooldown is for winding down out of the go go go mindset. Put away the big project and do a couple small doodles and sketches. You are relaxing your hand and letting it stretch out. Keep the sketches loose. Let the art happen slowly. Don't polish anything, that can happen another day. Just ease yourself out of drawing.

...

Cool! Now we get into the meat of this thing.

HAND PAIN

How to avoid it and how to manage it if you already have it.

I love you artists and creatives, I am begging you to please take care of your most important creative tools. I really don't want this to sound like scare tactics like "oooh you better do this or blah blah!" Nope. I just had to learn all this the hard way and I'm extremely passionate about it.

Take this advice or don’t ╮(ﾟ～ﾟ;)╭ I can't tell you what to do, I'm not your dad

Adjustments and Small Solutions

If you are feeling physical discomfort while drawing there are many different solutions to try! Here are some suggestions that may or may not work for you.

Hold your pencil more loosely. Stop gripping that thang so tightly!!! Relax that hand! They make these… squishy pen grip things... I think they are called Adaptive Pencil Grips or Adaptive Writing/Drawing Aids? They stop your hand from being all cramped up by making your drawing tool wider. It's going to take a bit of time to adjust to drawing with it, but it's worth it for those who hold pencils too tightly.

Don't press as heavily. For traditional art, if you find yourself pressing really hard to get darker lines try moving to a softer pencil. Most standard pencils are HB, the B pencils have softer graphite. Experiment until you find the right one for you. For Digital, adjust your pressure settings so you don't have to press as hard to get thicker lines. You should not be pressing so hard all the time, it wears out both your hand and your tablet! It takes a bit of time to adapt to pencil or pressure changes. Try doing some unimportant sketches, they don't have to be good. You are just training your hand and mind to adjust using less pressure.

Draw with your arm and not your wrist! It's small repetitive motions that cause the most strain. You probably hear this one a lot, what does it even mean? It means moving your arm with the motions of your line, and trying not to make too many tiny movements with your just your fingers or wrist. This one is hard! It takes time and conscious thought to change the habit. Tips? Work bigger. Zoom in more. Use bigger sheets of paper.

(Motions exaggerated for a clearer example)

Change the angle of your drawing surface. They make angled tablet holders, angled desks, angled desktop raisers. Experiment, find and angle that is comfortable and the one that causes the least pain. (It's also good to make sure you don't have to hold your head at an uncomfortable angle when drawing. Staring straight down or hunching over a paper flat on the table can cause pain!)

Compression Glove? Wrist brace/tensioners? Some folks use them and I've been thinking of getting one for years now. I can't give advice on this one, because I don't have experience with it. Look into it if you want!

Managing Pain

First things first.

IF YOUR HANDS START TO HURT WHILE YOU ARE DRAWING. STOP! Put the pencil/pen/paintbrush/whatever down. The art will still be there for you to continue tomorrow.

I know from experience that it's extremely hard to pull away when you are hyper focused on an art piece. It's hard to remember all sorts of basic needs like food or bathroom when hyper focused. But you Need to stop when you feel that pain. (Preferably even before the pain…)

Take Breaks! Let your hands rest when you can. Just like a machine, if you don't schedule maintenance, the machine will schedule maintenance for you. Often that means having to wait a few days for it to return to functional. Best to take a day off from heavy usage or take an occasional 30 min break throughout the day to let your hands rest.

Stretching is important! Full body stretches are good; your arms, shoulders, neck, and spine are all connected, but I'm specifically talking about HAND and wrist stretching. There are a lot of stretches and massages for carpal tunnel and arthritis out there. I find they work for hand pain in general. Move into and out of each stretch slowly. Do not push a stretch if it hurts!! Be gentle!!

I am not a qualified professional and I will not be giving out specific stretches (that is beyond my personal comfort level). There are other artists out there who have made helpful stretching info-graphics which are cool, but I will not be because i don't want to be responsible for someone accidentally hurting themself. Ask your doctor for stretches & advice or look some up on your own.

Don't feel bad about forgetting to stretch frequently! Of course it is good to do it regularly and frequently, but I would be a hypocrite if I said that I remember to stretch daily. Setting timers for stop and stretch sessions can work for some people, but also doing stretches whenever you remember is fine! If you are sitting on the toilet you can idly do some hand stretches. On the bus? Laying in bed? At the beach? Do a couple stretches! Even just once a week is better than… nonce a week.

Using Cold or Heat to treat pain. If you really overdid it, put your hands in some cold water or wrap a cloth around an ice pack and apply it to your hand. Cold works best for me, but warmth works for others. This is just pain reduction and reducing inflammation from overuse! This is not a permanent solution.

If your hand hurts a lot! Frequently! Talk to your doctor? Idk mine has never given real advice. Just gently poked my hand and told me there isn't much to be done about it :/ but there are really good doctors out there who will care and give helpful advice!

Again. IF IT HURTS TO CONTINUE DRAWING. STOP DRAWING! This is not a "no pain no gain" type situation. Drawing so much that you hurt yourself isn't noble, it's just… limiting yourself. You only get one set of hands. These things are very handy to have.

Other Advice

Things I couldn't figure out how to fit into the earlier sections.

Your other hand can't handle the strain! Lets say you hurt your drawing hand... the other hand is right there free to use for art. Right? Wrong. Your other hand can't keep up with the demand, it hasn't been trained to the same extent as your dominant hand, it does not have the built up muscle. If you want to use that hand for drawing you are going to have to use it s l o w l y and train it bit by bit over a long period of time. When I tore a tendon in my right hand I decided to just keep drawing with my left and I got Really Good at it. It only took like two months before my left hand hurt too much to move. Then I had 0 functioning hands to pull up my pants. Not fun!!

People who draw on phones. That is extremely impressive! I'm amazed by the things people can create on such a small space. But phone artists are the ones I see most frequently mentioning hand pain. please please please make sure you are taking breaks. Would a stylus work instead of using a finger?

Outside of Drawing. Sometimes it's things outside of drawing that are causing the pain. For me there are multiple sources, but I also have tiny baby hands. Holding a phone too long causes pain. The handheld mode for my Switch causes A Lot of pain. The way my hand rests while typing on my laptop hurts! Playing tense videogames for too long hurts! Find the source of your pain and make some changes. The same things will apply to most; take regular breaks, do some stretches, and find soft things to prop up or rest your arms on.

Change your Artstyle. This one is more of a last resort. You might have to change your art style if you are getting sharp pains every time you draw. I loved drawing tight clean lines and many small fancy details, but drawing like that left me in so much pain at the end of the day. In 2023 I had to take the better part of year off from illustrations just to learn how to sketch and draw more loosely. I had to learn how to be gentle. To stop gripping my pencil so tightly. Learn! Adapt! You might discover a new style that you love even more!

A lot of this stuff gets more complicated in a work setting where you have to draw fast and long in order to get paid. Things like reducing your workload can help, but that can be... financially rough. But outside of that, it’s ok to be a slow artist. Going full steam and hurting yourself is not worth it.

Aaaaaanyway, thats all folks. Today's rant brought to you by me! The guy with chronic hand pain who always forgets to stretch! The guy who got frustrated with a sketch yesterday and decided to push to keep drawing for just one more hour! The guy who woke up this morning and had to spend 2 hours massaging and stretching their hands. The guy who probably shouldn't have typed all of this out because ooww ow ouch

If your hands do hurt, it's going to be ok! You don't need to be a speed demon who draws all the time. It's ok to take your time and take frequent breaks. You are going to do great things! Just be gentle with yourself...

[writing-makes-me-human]

🌊Love And Guests🌊

┍━━━━━»•» 🌺 «•«━┑

Pairing: Aonung x reader

PART TWO: HERE

Summary: Aonung has put out your usual sass with his recent flirting and it’s driving you insane. When he finally gets to speak with you alone as he shows off his spear throwing expertise it gets heated quickly

Warnings: Sexual tension and heated word choices, no smut but it gets close, mention of genitals 

Word Count: 3.1K

A/N: No updates, I’m getting back into writing after months of breaks so I’m sorry if i’m rusty.  Also I feel like it goes without saying that Aonung is of age in all of my writing. I am not just writing about a minor, you are close in age. 19 years old.

┕━»•» 🌺 «•«━━━━━┙

"I still don't know why you think it's better that I teach you instead of my brother", Tsireya warmly suggested as she handed you a beginner's spear to practice with.

"Because I want to learn from the best", was all you managed to say as you took the spear in your hands and inspected it with wandering hands.

The real reason you were so eager to meet up with Tsireya instead of Aonung was laughable. Aonung had been playing a dangerous game with your feelings, making you feel a way you shouldn't to fuel your thoughts about the chief's son. Avoiding the brat to the best of your abilities for weeks now was the only way you could fight the fact you were slowly starting to become infatuated with the boy that was growing into a young man.

He had become cocky now that he was of age, and while he still had a few years of learning left before becoming chief, it had become clear his training was making him more and more defined. The way his body moved with every hearty laugh or every faux wrestling match with his friends drove you up the wall, so you decided it was best to try and stop seeing him altogether.

However, this was becoming a challenge as he had recently decided to spend more of his free time harassing you than anyone else. It was very confusing, as you thought you had put this bullying behind you when you were children. That could easily be forgotten, though, as he was indeed still the next leader, and that could explain his rudeness, but what couldn't be helped was the blush that overgrew you every time he towered over you with that smirk that he didn't know affected you in such unforgiving ways.

"Well, thank you, I'm flattered", she giggled, then continued, "but Aonung is the top in the clan at spear throwing, and he's not gonna be happy if he finds out you asked me instead of him", she never felt bad for her brother. Still, when it came to the matter of his undying yet, painfully expressed crush on you, she felt merciful.

You scoffed, squaring yourself next to her as you looked towards the targets drawn on the ground.

The target range for spear-throwing was closer to the village than any of the other training areas because you needed the clear ground to allow a large windup for hurling the stick through the air. It was still private, which you enjoyed because you had a feeling this was going to be an embarrassingly miserable display of physical prowess.

The targets were set up in the distance and made up of 3 circles of fine white sand sprinkled in precise shapes on the ground. Tsireya had already collected the sand earlier in the day and laid out the rings in exchange for you to be the one that churned the sand into the dirt when you were done so the next person who came to train could easily set up the rings and get started.

"I don't think I could handle his smugness at having me asking him a favor", you smiled at her, holding up the spear like you had seen Aonung and his friends do when they came here to learn when you were younger.

It was the truth. Honestly, you wouldn't have been able to handle his smug looks or laugh or the fact that to teach you meant one on one time by yourselves. You would prefer being lectured by Ronal, and that was saying something.

She nodded, trying to copy you as she held up the pointed end of the spear into the air, getting herself ready to fling the wooden spike. The artillery was too large for her, and you watched in curiosity as she heaved it up a little higher with a grunt.

"Alright, so what you want to do is pull back and using your back leg, you want to push--" she was cut off by the sound of laughter in the near vicinity. Before she could resume her instructions, you heard the sound of foliage and leafs being broken as a group of four boys emerged into the clearing, each of them but one with their spears by their side.

Aonung was still laughing at something Rotxo had said, but when he looked up and saw you, with your arms still raised as his sister mirrored you, he felt his heart skip a beat and his face light up with delight.

You cursed under your breath and dropped the stick like it was a venomous snake, instantly turning around to hide your slightly tinged face.

This was so unfair! He hadn't even said anything so far. All he had done was smile and laugh! He never had this much of a hold on you when he was younger. As he got older and his hair grew past his shoulders, and his muscles became larger, you became less aware of what to do with yourself.

"I have to go", you mumbled, feeling the tinge fade as you turned to pick up the burlap sack you had brought with you and leave for the village.

"Well, what is going on here?" Aonung called out in the conceited tone he saved for when he was talking to you. His deep voice boomed around the clearing, forcing its way into your ears and silencing the chatter between his other friends.

You didn't respond and instead made your way in the opposite direction they had come from, but before you could escape, a few words were yelled out, making your face nearly melt off your skull and onto the floor below you.

"Somewhere to be, pretty girl?" Aonung called out while his friends spread out, tossing down their training gear and lunches they had packed in preparation for a few hours of training.

You turned sharply, trying to calm your breathing so the blood would move from the gathering in your cheeks down to your heart which desperately needed the extra help because the poor thing was beating overtime.

"Just remembered I have somewhere to be", you said rather awkwardly, not allowing yourself to come across as timid but not quite having the energy to yell back at him with the same enthusiasm.

"Oh, come on! You said you wanted to learn from the best, and he's right here!" Tsireya spoke. She lay down her spear next to yours and jogged up to you. She grinned as she gently tugged on your hand, coaxing you to come and stand to talk to the boys who were checking over their weapons.

You sighed, then gave in, dropping the sack and letting her drag you over to Aonung, who was still standing in the same spot. As you walked over, he had a proud smile etched on his face, and you wanted nothing more than to slap it off.

Your face dropped so you could look anywhere but into his eyes that would have caught you in his dangerous trap of good looks and gentle teasing and never let you go.

"Come on, teach her!" Tsireya was far too excited, nearly jumping up and down while her older brother rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Who said I wanted to help?" He snarkly asked, then continued, "and next time you're thinking of using my spear, ask!" He spat, gesturing to the spike that was laid on the ground rather carelessly. That cleared up the question of why the spear had nearly tipped her over when she held it up.

She elbowed him roughly in the chest with her free arm causing him to bend down a little in pain and scowl at her, but no sound of agony came out.

He quickly straightened himself and snarled at Tsireya, but she gave him a pointed look before her eyes darted to you several times. After a few seconds, he finally got her unspoken threat and sighed, pushing past the both of you to walk over to collect his projectile.

You ignored the feeling of his hand burning on your shoulder as he pushed between you two, breaking the hold Tsireya had on you.

"Come on, pretty girl, let's see what you can do", he called out, not bothering to turn around because he knew you'd be following.

You looked over to Tsireya before you elbowed her yourself, questioning her with a look. She knew you didn't want to speak with him, yet here he was and instead of ushering him away, she had insisted he teaches you.

She simply shrugged at you and pushed you forward before running off to sit next to her brother's friends.

You passed by Rotxo and nodded to him in greetings which he returned before tucking into the fruits he had brought with him. He was chatting with his friends, who all found a spot under a nearby tree that was far enough away from the targets that they wouldn't hear you and Aonung's words to each other but still close enough that they could still see any funny failings.Your eyes settled on Aonung's back, and you took a deep breath, you didn't even have the shame to look away when he crouched down and picked up his spear, checking it over for dirt or marks.

"You watch me first, then you try", he said, glancing over to see you were watching him with eyes slightly wide at the idea of trying to copy his expert throw with an audience.

He smiled at you, which caused you to blush and break the stare you had been holding on his body, which only made him grin, thus continuing the terrible cycle.

"Eyes on me, nobody else is watching, so you can look at me as much as you want", he called you out with a smirk when you finally scowled, giving him a reaction that he couldn't help but chuckle at.

"I worry for anybody that enjoys looking at you", you hissed while taking a step back, knowing he would have to have some space to move when he threw the spike.

He didn't say anything this time but didn't have to. His eyes spoke for him as they shone like the sea on a sunny day.

"So she speaks! I was beginning to worry!" He watched you roll your eyes in amusement with a slight smile on your face, and he silently swore at himself in his head for turning so you wouldn't see his sly grin that he only got when he made you happy.

"Let's start", he wasted no more time and held the wooden stick over his head. You watched with slightly awestruck eyes as his body moved so purposefully.

He raised the spear, and using his other arm, he aimed to secure the direction he was throwing in. He could feel your eyes on him, and it made him cocky. He wanted to show off, to show you he was strong and worthy of praise.

He pulled back his left leg, then after taking a breath, he threw it with as much strength as it took to land directly in the centre of the target. They were far closer than he usually had them, but it was to be expected since you were a beginner.

The weapon shot through the air before the sharp spearhead dug into the ground with a thud, landing directly in the centre of the most petite ring. A perfect bullseye.

He leaned back with a satisfied grin. He turned to look at you with the hopes you would be at least slightly impressed. You were still staring, mouth open in an 'o' shape, struck somewhat by just how gifted at the sport he was, and it made a part of his internal body tingle when you turned with the look changing from amazement to an affectionate smile.

"I'll admit you aren't bad, I've seen worse", you couldn't help the smile anymore. He always had a way of killing off your anxiety, and right now was no different. His cocky grin made your heart speed up, but your mind just wanted to insult him until he dropped.

"If that's all it takes to impress you, I am afraid to know how easy it is to please you", he took no shame in his words, and your smile quickly dropped to embarrassed growls as you hid your face, turning to look over at his friends that were all talking to Tsireya about something at the same time. The discussion looked heated, and none of them paid attention to you two.

You watched, eyes as focused as ever. 

"Arrogant brat", was all you could get out as you looked down at your feet and kicked at the dirt.

"Oh, did I touch a nerve? I didn't know you were such a goody-goody", he didn't wait for your smart-ass answer and walked off to tug his spear out of the ground sharply. Your mind was reeling as you heard a soft grunt escape his lips as he yanked his prize out of the ground.

You shook your head and bent down to pick up the training spear you had been given, not taking notice of your position that had your back to the sky until you felt a hand smack into your backside harshly.

The slap was loud, making your face turn scarlet red as you jumped up, abandoning the spike to glare at Aonung with a death stare.

You were shocked, he had never been so bold with his teasing, and while it wouldn't have crossed a line had you been alone, you could feel the four pairs of eyes gawking at the back of your head.

"Don't", you gently warned. You didn't want to admit it, and you knew it was wrong, and the pompous imp should have been ashamed of himself, Aonung should have been on his hands and knees begging to be forgiven, but a part of your brain was fighting not to jump his bones right now and embarrass him in front of his friends.

And he dared to look proud of himself as he laughed at your face, raising his hand in a half-assed attempt to hide the smile while you geared up to smack him across the face.

He noted how livid you looked and sighed. He hadn't meant to offend you. But when he was walking back and saw how your ass was staring at him like that, he couldn't resist the temptation.

"All right, I'm sorry" he held his hands up in surrender as a beam of playfulness poured from his eyes as a flirtatious grin overtook him.

"If you want to touch my body, ask, coward", you bit back, letting yourself grin as he took his turn of letting his mouth go slack at your actions.

"What's wrong pretty boy? Need some help?" you chuckled, nodding your head south. His eyes followed yours with a confused quirk on his brow as he looked down, and his eyes widened as he nervously took in that he had a half chub under his loin cloth.

You took a step back from him, feeling the heat between your legs signal it was time to go before you made some terrible mistakes that led you both behind a tree somewhere doing things you wanted to make him wait for.

He couldn't take his eyes off you, and as you felt the roles reversing, you suddenly understood why Aonung found the teasing so fun.

He looked back up at your smug face and peeked toward the group behind you with a silent plea in his eyes. Don't drag their attention down to his excitement.

"You need to learn some manners, Aonung, it's not becoming of the next chief to be so blatant in public, you've really hurt my feelings", you gave a dramatic exaggeration of a pout to him while your hands came to lay on your heart.

He was blocked from the sight line of his peers by where you were standing, but one step to the left or right and even from this distance, it was undeniable that he was hard.

He hadn't moved to cover his crotch yet but he dropped the spear, staring at you with begging eyes. It seemed that your sudden 360 from being a blushed-out lovesick moron to a vengeful demon had done nothing to ease him down, if anything, you made it worse.

You leaned forward, taking great pleasure in standing on your feet a little to get even with his ear, your hot breath panted onto his neck and he couldn't do anything to stop you. One move, and you'd be exposing him to his closest friends.

"Compared to me, I think it's you that's easy to please", you smiled, and he hated how he could feel the heat from your mouth as your teeth came so close to his neck that it drove him mad.

You quickly pulled away and smiled when you saw his eyes were closed, he was focusing on his breathing like he had you doing from his actions so many times before, and it felt so good to see him like this. A grown man that was bigger than you in every way imaginable was trying to calm his breath over you and your words.

"Well, this has been fun, but I'll see you later, Aonung", you felt confident for the first time in weeks and slowly, you felt the old you coming back, the sarcastic you that had just as much bark in you as Aonung.

You turned to leave, but he grabbed your arm, pulling you closer to him, not quite flush against his body, lest one of the others looked up again and saw you two so close.

"Wait a few minutes, then follow me", he didn't give you the time to reply once again as he picked up the spear and finally had the dignity to cover himself with his free hand before walking off to go deeper into the forest without so much as a glance back.

Oh, you knew you shouldn't. You should turn around and leave, let the warrior get himself off in the forest like the animal he was acting like. Still, the heat that had signaled you to go nearly 5 minutes ago had grown, and you knew that even if it wasn't visible, your body was nearly 10x as horny as Aonung was.

You wanted him.

But you knew you couldn't mate here, and certainly not like this.

'Leave, leave leave', your mind screamed as your feet took step after step of their own volition after him.

You worried for a second that somebody would call out to you and ask where you were going, but a part of you knew that everyone had already worked out the nature of what was going on with you two. They had all been staring at you after he slapped your ass, so they must have.

"I'll just talk to him", you finally muttered to yourself as you set off in a faster pace, going off to find him.

[luffyvace]

dunno if you do shalnark x reader fics but i can barely find any of my silly goober so here i am asking 😭🙏

its chill if you don’t, dw about it, but i was wondering if you could do one of shalnark and like a closed off reader that he tries so desperately to open up to him. make it as fluffy or angsty as you want 🙏🙏🧎 WWW

UM YES I DO?! I LOVE OUR SILLY LITTLE NOT SO RUSSIAN HACKER⁉️💗💗

THIS IS SUCH A GOOD IDEA?! Why has no one thought of this?? Hcs are popping into my head as I TYPE THIS. I’m going to make it fluffy bc I’m a sucker for it 😊 thank you for requesting anon!! :)

(btw I don’t really do fics, just hcs, but I’ll write it in a sort of fic way as possible <3)

For these I’ll do reader who’s in phantom troupe or at least knows he’s in it

the reason for you being closed of may vary, you could naturally be like that or you could be scarred with trauma

who knows?

You.

in which I let you decide why you are the way you are :)

besides the point

shalnark really does do everything to get you to open up to him

every love language, every bribery possible, even light empty threats!

nothing.

You don’t crack a bit.

first is love languages:

“N/nnn why don’t you talk to me today??”

he came over to you and snuggled up close to you

you either turn away or completely ignore him

”come on now, I’m your boyfriend! Don’t you wanna talk to me??”

you attention doesn’t move at all from what you were doing

“Your so coldhearted towards me, don’t you care about me at all? Don’t you love me?” He pouts. He knows the answer. He just wants you to show it

”I’m in a dangerous criminal organization you know? I could die any second! Won’t you care??”

you don’t bat an eye

he chooses not to sigh and give up today

he playfully starts kissing you all over your face

hugging you tighter, caressing your hair

still nothing

i feel this is another reason he likes you

your a enigma to him

he doesn’t view you as a toy though—of course not! He loves you, but your so fascinating to him, you really know how to keep a man on his toes

he can’t figure out why you are the way you are and you won’t tell him

you accept his proposal to be his s/o but won’t say you love him? Won’t cuddle or kiss? His gifts collect dust?

this man hardly knew love in his childhood and now your still deriving him of it 😗

you may or may not know that and you may or may not feel guilty about it

but as for words of affs

”_____ I love you”

”…”

”I love you, _____”

”okay?..”

”your supposed to say it back!”

”I said okay”

”say you love me too!!”

”so what’s the troupes plans?”

”stop changing the subject!”

bro is never getting that I love you 🤦‍♀️

gifts??

”_____ I got you a gift!” *insert him handing you something you really love that he found out through hacking not from you*

“I don’t want it”

”liar! This is your favorite!! Just accept it ___”

“Put it on the table..”

*que shalnark dropping his shoulders with a dull look while tossing it on the table

he knows your never gonna touch it

or at least never let him see

as far as quality time that’s the one he gets away with the most

LOL

he could spend all day with you and you really wouldn’t say anything

following you around and such

the fact that you never do lets him know you do love him

eventually he figures it might be your love language

If someone in your past did this to you?

you can bet he tracked them down and gave them to feitan >:)

he didn’t tell him what they did tho he just said ‘hey here’s another victim’

now he’s not really a torture guy but we know he is somewhat apathetic himself

maybe even sadistic

either way he definitely watched this torture session

he wouldn’t want to miss out on the pain of the one(s) who hurt you

:)

he likely tells you afterwards to see your reaction

he could tell if it still traumatizes you based on that and if it is he tries extra hard to get you to open back up

if not he’s kinda back to square one..

About the light threats

he’d threaten to reveal embarrassing moments and secrets of yours if you don’t give him a kiss in the next 24 hours

the first time he did this you glared thinking he would

but after you found out it was empty you ignored all other threats

the reason you ignored the first one was you didn’t really like people anyway so you were kinda just like forget it, whatever

If you did give him the kiss- PROGRESSSSSSSSS

finally⁉️

you don’t fall for it twice after you realize it was empty though

but this means your not against it! You just prefer not to!

and now it’s confirmed you love him!!

YIPPIE

I hope you enjoyed your hcs anon! they were a bit short but i like the ending :)

THERE NEEDS TO BE MORE SHALNARK HCS RN!! (I love the gif i put of him)

[loservernon]

𐙚⊹₊⋆☆ nice guy | sim jake

𐙚 idol!jake x student!reader (she/her)

𐙚 angst no fluff, the little fight that snowballs into heartbreak

𐙚 1.6k, mentions of cheating, not proofread oops!

𐙚 note // this is my first time ever writing for a group other than nct so i hope you guys like it ^~^ i’m on a break from school, and kpop bedrot has been my best friend thus this was born!! there will most likely be a part two that’s not depressing teehee

at the second hour of this seemingly never-ending fight, jake has yet to show any sign of giving up. it’s baffling to you, who — just as much as he does — thinks you’re the one in the right. you’re sure of it, which is why you aren’t backing down so easily.

“so you’re saying it’s your job to buy a drink for every person that looks miserable at the bar?”

“i’m not saying it’s my job,” he defends, “i’m just saying i saw her sitting alone looking particularly glum and that i had the capability to do something nice for someone, so i did.”

“so you’re playing the nice guy now, huh? you can’t possibly be at fault because it was simply an act of kindness.”

“(name), don’t put it like that. i’m not trying to play at anything. i’m just telling you what i did and why i did it.”

“and i’m telling you that it was wrong, that it hurt, that it might’ve been a nice act to her, but buying another girl a drink is not nice to your girlfriend.”

jake rises from his spot on the couch. he walks a few steps until his back is facing you. his hands are set square on his hips and his head is hung low in disappointment, or defeat, or just dejection, you can’t tell.

he stays that way for a few moments; the heated tension that once shrouded the room is now replaced with an eerie silence. jake breaks it with the most bewildering conclusion possible. “i get it now. you’re jealous.”

at this, you’re caught off guard, though it only takes a few breaths for your surprise to morph into anger. you stand up as well, and jake turns around just as your anger reaches its climax.

“jealous? you think i’m jealous of a random ass girl who seemed to be down in the dumps?”

the furrow in his brow deepens at the thickness in your voice. jake’s countenance is back to a defensive state, but his tone almost assumes confusion when he queries, “if you’re not jealous of her then what’s the issue here? what reason could you possibly have–“

“it’s you, jake.” you take measured steps towards him, tears springing in your eyes from the sheer emotion leaking through your being. your body is almost shaking, pupils quivering, and fists clenching when you push forward, “you’re the issue. you think you’re such a nice guy for buying some girl a drink, when really you don’t seem to understand the insinuations of your actions.”

“what do you mean i don’t underst–“

“were you flirting with her?”

“no.”

“did you express your interest in her?”

“of course not.”

“then why would she come up to me right before we were leaving to tell me that the guy i was with was hitting on her?”

jake throws his hands up as a show of innocence and frustration, “how am i supposed to know why she lied to you?”

“did you tell her that you had a girlfriend?”

“there was no reason to.”

“are you really that dense?”

“what?”

“single guys buy drinks for girls that they’re interested in at bars. come on jake, you weren’t born yesterday. the more you try to make it seem like you were just ‘doing it to be nice,’ the more it feels like you had other intentions that you’re scared to tell me. just admit that you did something wrong, apologize for it, and never do it again.”

now it’s his turn to be caught off guard. you think he gets it, and he’ll do as you say and you guys will both hug and make up and hurry on to bed. however, it doesn’t seem that way. he’s stuck on a single part, arguably the least important part, of your whole entire spiel.

“you really think i had other intentions?”

jake’s challenging you. you know that look well, the one where he feels so severely wronged that his vision blurs and all he can think about is defending himself.

“jake…” you don’t give in to the challenge because you know it’d only fuel him.

“you think i was cheating on you? in front of you? why’s it so hard for you to believe i was just doing it from the kindness of my heart?”

“no, jake…” you try again, but it’s futile. you know from the look on his face that he’s about to say things he doesn’t mean. you know it’s going to hurt.

“fine. if you really don’t believe that my act of kindness was really just an act of kindness then i should be more mean, shouldn’t i? next time you have a group project with a guy in it, i’m not talking to you until the project’s over. you can’t have guy friends, or else i might misunderstand your intentions towards them. if you ever go up to a guy and talk to him for any reason, we’re over. and i’ll apply the same rules to myself. are you satisfied now?”

it doesn’t just hurt. it breaks you. tears are streaming down your cheeks and your heart rate speeds uncontrollably. you’re standing opposite of him, barely able to breathe, and yet he looks close to normal, save for the sternness set in his brows. it utterly shatters you to know that jake would rather break your heart knowingly than apologize for something that now seems so minor.

through hitched breaths, you force out weakly, “so by your rules, we’re over.”

at first, he doesn’t get it. the placidity with which he had regulated his face falls briefly into panic. cautiously, jake lets, “what do you mean we’re over?”

congestion has clogged your sinuses, so you hold your breath as you clarify, “you’re applying the same rules to yourself, aren’t you? earlier tonight, did you not go up to a girl and talk to her? for whatever reason?” any composure jake held on to cracks. his eyes go wide and he takes a hesitant yet desperate step towards you as you hammer in the final nail to his coffin. “you’re saying we’re over, right?”

you have jake backed into a corner. he’d fallen for his own trap, one that he’d built trying to corner you. he’d say he’s ready for it, your attack. he’d even go as far as to admit he deserves it, apologize for it, beg for it. he can’t take back what he did and he can’t take back what he said, even if he never meant to even remotely cause doubt of his loyalty to you, and even if he had sworn early on in your relationship that he would never hurt you on purpose. but even when he’s backed into a corner, defenseless and entirely at fault, you never land your final blow. instead, you retreat.

“i’m going to stay at yeji’s tonight. please don’t contact me until i reach out first.”

you turn away from him and head towards your shared bedroom. jake’s eyes have unfocused and he’s rooted rigidly in his spot. his mind tricks him into thinking that if he doesn’t move, or speak, or hear, or see anything, then this must not be his reality. for minutes it seems, jake dissociates just like this. but the sound of you packing your bag sets his nerves alight, and he’s jolted into action like the galvanization of a dead man emerging from the ground. he awakens to this reality, and the realization that he has to change it.

jake barely crosses the threshold of the door before he’s stopped at the sight of your zipping closed your suitcase. just how long were you planning on leaving for? you look up at him to catch the disbelief and hurt in his eyes. your face has been washed and you refuse to let up anymore signs of vulnerability on your end, so you look back down.

“please don’t go.”

“don’t push it.”

“i thought we agreed to never go to bed mad at each other.”

with your suitcase zipped close, you still your emotions before looking up at him. “i’m not mad at you, jaeyun.”

at the sound of his full name, jake almost dissociates again. his heart has gone completely still. “then why are you leaving?”

you make your way across the room, and he moves to block the entrance of it. you sigh. “i just want some space to rethink our relationship and what happened tonight.”

jake hangs his head low, “i’m sorry. i’m at fault.” but his head snaps back up when he hears you laugh in response, “it’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?”

he doesn’t put up a fight, for he’s done more than enough of that already. instead, he moves out of the way.

you leave.

jake wonders who’d get the apartment if you guys broke up. he wonders what he’d tell his parents who love you so, how he’d break it to layla that her favorite person in the world will never see her again. jake wonders if he could ever get used to the silence in the room that now sits heavy on his shoulders. mostly he wonders if he would ever forgive himself for being stubborn at the worst moment, and being selfish when it mattered the most.

it’s only now that jake thinks he would prefer you yelling at him any day for any reason, over the silence of your shared apartment for the rest of his life.

copyright © 2024 loservernon all rights reserved.

[writeshite]

Day one of asking for billy hargrove x himbo reader (smut and fluff)

Summary:

Billy doesn't exactly have the greatest repertoire to refer back to on these new emotions, what with his mom being six feet underground and all; he’s certainly not going to his dad about this, either. So he chooses to suffer in ignorant bliss and silence. Which is hard to do when you’re there. Barely five feet apart. Chin on his shoulder as you look over his notes for the stupid chemistry group project.

Pairings:

Billy Hargrove x Male!Reader

Tags:

Himbo Reader | Headcanons | Fluff

Words: 595

Author's Note:

I have a confession, I don't write fully himbo characters as often as I should, even with Thor, I do wash down the himboness so...not sure how good this is 😅 I couldn't think of anything for the smut part, apologies for that.

Billy’s been in Hawkins, Indiana, long enough to know he fucking hates it here; he was happy and fine in California. He liked the sun, the beaches, the people, not questioning his sexuality at three in the morning because you picked him up like he weighed nothing after he squared up to you. 

You didn’t even do anything but set him aside because you were late for practice, and never before has he been glad to be in an empty hallway. If that didn’t do it, then witnessing the absolute dumb fuckery that permeated your mind was enough to make Billy realize he may, in fact, have a thing for guys.

“But I’m not….am I?” Billy’s been staring at the hood of his car; his reflected image stared back at him, confused as he tried to work through his current turmoil. It was early Saturday morning, and he’d decided not to stay in the house any longer than he had to.

“Hey, Billy.”

He spins around to see you jog up to him - and he is very much appreciating the running clothes right now; he tries to reign back his ogling; thankfully, you don’t notice it.

Billy doesn't exactly have the greatest repertoire to refer back to on these new emotions, what with his mom being six feet underground and all; he’s certainly not going to his dad about this, either. So he chooses to suffer in ignorant bliss and silence.

Which is hard to do when you’re there. Barely five feet apart. Chin on his shoulder as you look over his notes for the stupid chemistry group project. “Do you mind?” he asks, lacing as much venom as he can.

“Oh, sorry,” he feels relieved you might move back, but you don’t. Instead, you plaster yourself to his back, arms holding your own notes - which he can see even better now, so thank you for that - and with both books side by side, you return to reading, muttering to yourself all the while, Billy feels seconds away from melting into the floor.

“I can’t believe I have to fuck him.”

“You do not have to fuck him, Billy; I am begging you —”

“I gotta fuck him,” Billy reiterated, ignoring whoever it was he’d been speaking to and all but running towards you. When you notice his approach, you wave him over, the hose in your hand dropping, as Billy tries very hard not to pay attention to how close your shirt is sticking to your skin.

“Why are you wet?” He knows why you’re wet; he watched you try and fill the bucket for the school fundraiser, stare down at it, and then get doused in water. You, of course, explain what happened, and he, of course, calls you a moron.

“Well, not all of us are pretty geniuses, Billy,” you retort, turning away to shrug off your shirt, utterly oblivious to how wide his eyes go. “You alright?” You ask him when you turn back, placing the back of your hand on his forehead, “Your face is all red; oh, god, you’re really warm. Should I get the nurse?”

“No —no, I’m fine.”

“You sure? You look like you might faint,” you worry, “I can carry you there if —”

Billy should get a medal for the amount of speed he puts into his getaway run. He’s out of sight long before you can respond, jumping into his car and driving off to anywhere else; he stops somewhere - feet swinging a little, then screaming into his hand, then back to a blushing mess.

End Note:

Hope that was alright. Stay Hydrated.

[newx-menfan]

NYX #4 Review

*Spoilers!* 

First…can we just appreciate how great Hellion looks on the cover….? Model contract dropping any minute, if villainy doesn’t pan out…lol 😂🤣

The issue starts with David narrating his lecture notes while tagging the side of a building in secret, while his boyfriend is asleep back at the apartment.

The statement “Generations of mutants stuck in this binary. Integrate or dominate” is especially poignant….as is the statement about mutants now being on the streets homeless, with no where to go…

The allegory definitely, I would say IS affectively used in the writing, when you look at the current displacement of refugees from certain war torn countries… Idk if the writers meant it to be seen that way…but it can definitely be read that way and I was rather impressed by this subtle statement.

We cut to David sneaking back to the apartment and then talking on the phone to the dean about mutants in NY and the possibility of mutant housing…

Alleyne is interrupted by Kamala FINALLY figuring out the identity of the Krakoan (literally EVERYONE else GUESSED this by now, Kamala, lol) and has basically zero reaction to the news… (Look how cute the Hellions HS group photo is though 🥺!)

“Telekinetic. Green energy signature, same build. Psych profile all over the place” should definitely be on a teeshirt guys… (I am 100% using it for a meme lol)

David DEFENDING Julian is kind of sweet- I definitely THINK the writers could have gone with “David is still bitter over their NXM days” and I am glad they didn’t and instead showed that David and Julian have grown up and developed a weird respect and understanding for one another… (or IS THERE ANOTHER REASON??)

Kamala keeps pressing, saying that Julian might possibly be committing small assassinations, while using the theatrics as a distraction…(Don’t know how I feel about making Hellion a killer…but DAMN, Emma would be so proud! 🥹)

Kamala figured out he’s running on a timer, and with Sophie and the Morlocks help, figured out that Julian is going to hit time square (I am not sure that’s much of a loss lol…)

Kamala thinks Julian is obsessed with her… (OH SWEETIE. 😬😂🤣) and wants her to know what he’s planning…

David has the same reaction I DO (totally making a meme of that TOO!🤣🤣)

Kamala tries to convince David to try talking with Hellion before it gets ugly, and David reminds her of his delicate position at the school (I mean…come ON David…we ALREADY know you’re going to do it 🤣🤣)

Kamala then goes and bitches about Prodigy to Sophie (oh if only Elixir was here 🤣🤣), before taking off to stop Krakellion…

Ms. Marvel runs into Krakellion chewing the scenery… (I really can’t tell if Empath is controlling him…or he’s just being this dramatic now 🤣)

Kamala figures out Sophie is working with Empath because she had a yearbook from the year after she died…(kind of wish they had done more WITH this, since it actually makes sense Sophie would want to know what she “missed out” on… but I do also wonder if it’s to hint that Manuel is controlling Kamala AS well…)

While they’re having a “heart to heart”, the Hive reminds Sophie why they’re doing this and Sophie betrays Kamala’s friendship by alerting journalists of the mutant brawl in Times Square.

Ms Marvel tries to appeal to Julian, but Julin  just calls her a “mutant traitor” and ties her up with Telekinesis- humiliating her on the news. (So pretty much how EVERY conversation goes when someone tells Julian to do anything… 😂🤣)

Krakellion ends the fight, knocking Kamala out with a telekinetic fist…which is REALLY cool! (I mean…Sophie kind of already gut punched Kamala EMOTIONALLY Julian…)

(Poor Kamala…Sophie was like the first person besides Bruno and Nakia, who truly seemed to want to be her pal 🥺)

We go back to David’s field notes, while Prodigy has decided to SPRING into action after watching Ms Marvel’s beat down on the news! (Sorry Kamala- David’s taking back his arch-nemesis!) 

David shuts down the Cuckoos with a trick he learned at Xavier’s and plans to brawl it out with Julian… (is Julian actually an Omega level? Or is he just BS-ing right now lol??) 

Prodigy knocks off Julian’s helmet in like one sweep and basically beats the shit out of Julian… (😂🤣🤣) 

The effect of the arrest is positive- Krakellion goes to prison (BOO!) and Prodigy is hailed as a mutant HERO!

Meanwhile, Sophie has taken off and Manuel is PISSED….

Review:

Obviously- this was the issue EVERYONE was waiting for! And it did NOT disappoint!

I have no criticisms. No complaints. (I mean… I always have complaints, but at least not MAJOR ones lol!) 

This really IS AN ISSUE that allows Prodigy to shine!! I was really impressed with how they handled David; it’s definitely on PAR with KYOST and DeFilippis and Weir! It’s really great to see David being an ACTUAL character and THREAT. 

I know people aren’t going to agree, but it’s also nice to see him in a story NOT revolving solely around his sexuality or getting killed- I know representation is important, but it’s nice to see writer remember there is MORE TO this character than just being brutally murdered all the time….

It was really hard to choose art scans from this issue- they were all pretty great!! 

Almost EVERY line in this book was great and hysterical! It REALLY reminded me of the old NXM days 🥹! These guys really did KNOCK this issue out of the PARK! Congrats Jackson and Collin!! 🎉🎉

I really can’t think of a time recently that I have been THIS HAPPY with a comic book…let ALONE an X-book. All I can say is- the X-office should really hold on to Kelly and Lanzing!… And thank you Tom Breevort! 

If you’re not currently reading it and an NXM fan- I would 100% recommend you try it!

Theories: 

Hellion HAS to be working with Prodigy- I LOVE David… but Hellion went down WAY TOO easy…they GOT to be cahooting!

Basically this book is now just a series of questions…..

Is Empath controlling Hellion?? Is Empath controlling Kamala or Kamala’s cousin?? Is Mojo controlling Empath?? Is Empath controlling Synch?? (Check out future solicits!)… 

How will Krakellion survive in prison without his moisturizer and hair gel and his cool guy helmet?? 🥺🥺💚

Does Hellion still love Laura? (Probably…) Will Laura at least visit him in Prison?? 

Did Kamala burn the friendship collage and bracelet she was most likely making for Sophie…? (Again, probably…)

Is anyone gonna use that yearbook to call out Anole for lying about being a Hellion?? 

Yet none of these questions will even actually matter… because I have a feeling next issue will be all about the Mojoverse!! 

[jessequinones]

Writing Advice: Getting Over Writer's Block

It seems like every writer has talked about writer's block at least once, and I’m surprised, at least from what I could tell, that I haven’t spoken about this. The truth is that I don’t know how to get over writer's block, at least not regularly.

Writers' Block differs from person to person, and what helps someone might not help you. The least I can do is talk about some of the writer's blocks I go through, hoping that some of the stuff I do might benefit you.

Why am I not writing?

This is the first question I ask myself. Is it because I’m dealing with trauma and burned out? Is it because I’m creating a new story and don’t know what to put on paper? Is it because I’m distracted by a new video game? Whatever the reason, figuring out why I’m not writing is the first step. Below are some common reasons why I stopped writing and how I handled them.

I’m depressed!

A lot of my writing slumps are because I’m either depressed or dealing with trauma in a way that prevents me from writing. Some people say writing is an excellent way to deal with trauma, and for that, I agree...it just doesn’t work for me all of the time.

If I’m going through a depressive episode, I can’t write. No matter how much I want to. Instead of forcing myself to push through this, I need time to recharge and relax.

I play video games, watch shows or movies, just do something for a week or two and just recharge and deal with my depression and trauma in a healthy way. I know I haven’t written anything in two weeks and want to, but once I get myself out of this cycle, I can get back to it.

I never found that pushing through my slump and just writing for the sake of writing was helpful. If anything, whenever I try to push through my depressive episode and write, I often get mad at my writing, which only makes the situation worse.

If your body tells you to take some time off and relax, I find it best to listen. Don’t fight your body; take a holiday, relax, and do something fun. Do whatever you have to recharge; when you feel better, you can return to your writing.

I just don’t know what to put on my paper!

I get this. Whenever I start a new story, I go through this a lot. Writing is hard. Creating ideas, stories, and characters is difficult when starting at square one. I’m writing this instead of my newest book simply because I don’t know what to put in it.

Authors create many different ways and techniques to help them escape this struggle, but writing something completely different often works for me. If I don’t know how to start a story, I fill out some character bios or do some world-building. If I don’t know what to put in this chapter, I go to the next one and move on. Suppose I’m having difficulty creating a new story from scratch where I don’t know the characters, world, lore, or anything. I often make a folder and put down straightforward things. Character A, B, dragons, fighting, and just leave it like that. This way, I can trick my brain into saying I’m working on this story; I know I don’t have much, but at least I have something.

Within those folders, I also just start putting random things in every once in a while, such as Character A...happy...short...something...it’s not much. Often times, Character A ends up becoming none of those things, but by putting even the randomness of things in a folder, I tell myself, yes, I’m writing, even if it’s by small amounts, I’m still writing.

Other times, I get upset if I haven’t written anything down for a while. To mitigate this, I write something that’s not related at all to what I want to write about, like creating writing advice articles! Or I might write a stupid letter to no one or express that I’m angry in a poem. I write for the sake of writing. Sometimes, if I struggle to write a story, writing something completely different helps my brain. How does that work? I’m not sure, but all I know is that it does.

Creating a little side project, something you can jump to whenever you’re stuck with your primary goal, helps me. Honestly,it’s why I created writing articles in the first place. Sometimes, your little side projects might take over your main writing for the next month or two, and honestly, I don’t think that’s a bad thing. If you need to take a break from your main writing project, you must take a break. If creating something on the side will help you with your creativity, go for it.

Other times, if I’m struggling, and it’s been like 1-2 weeks of not writing where I can’t seem to put anything down on paper. I write a simple word. Maybe it’s one word in the chapter I’m struggling with or one word in a character's bio. However, I’m telling myself I’m doing my best. It may be slow, but I’m doing my best, and when I’m ready, I’ll figure out more words to put down later.

I’m not good enough!

Sometimes, I get discouraged from writing when I notice others who seem to be achieving so much. My imposter syndrome often makes me hard on myself, and I believe my words are pathetic or cringe-worthy and that I should give up.

It’s challenging not to compare yourself to others, especially if you view them on a much higher pedestal than you. At times like these, I often reflect on where I came from. I kept a lot of my old writings from when I was young, and I chuckle as I try to figure out just what I was saying in those stories.

I look at the past to see how far I came along in the present, and while this doesn’t get rid of my imposter syndrome, it sometimes gets me out of it for just a moment to get me back into writing. If you can look back at your old writing and believe it’s horrible, then you know you’ve improved along your journey, and that’s great. You might be stuck now, but you’ve improved once, and you’ll do it again.

Writer's block is different for everyone, and you might experience writer's block in a way that I haven’t mentioned. If you’re struggling with this, I can give you one more piece of advice: simply chat with others. I’m a part of several writer's groups, and I enjoy talking with them or getting others to read my stories. And they could inform me what things they liked and didn’t like about my stories, and sometimes that might help me get out of my writing slump.

I engage in friendly conversations or debates. And sometimes, I chat about nothing in particular. I know we all write alone, but it’s good to know you're not alone in writing. Others are creating their stories alongside you, and cheering you on while you cheer them on is one of the greatest motivators I discovered. And I get that you might be an introvert and not want to socialise, or socialising takes a lot of energy. Many writers are introverts, so we understand the struggle of talking to others. Good writing groups won’t pick on you for not socialising. Good writing groups will encourage you to keep going. I know writing groups have their clicks and dramas, just like every online space, and talking in a place where there may be hundreds of people is scary. But if you can find a few people you click with, speak with them privately. Having a writing buddy and writing friends, even if it’s one or two, is a great way to get out of writing slumps.

That’s all I have about getting over writer's block; it’s a topic that doesn’t have a concrete answer because what works for someone might not work for you, and what does work for you one day might not work a second day. Just know it’s okay if your writing takes longer than you thought. Even professional writers struggle with this; you’re not alone. Take your time, take a breath, and I’m looking forward to seeing what you create in the future.

[doublesunsets]

Wild Nights

Crosshair x female!reader PWP - NSFW Word Count: 2k

Request from @freesia-writes

(...) either Crosshair or Hunter taking their time absolutely tantalising a fem reader until she’s nearly feral… You can “finish” or not.

Note: Hopefully it gets close to what you had in mind, Free! I'm not so sure about the tantalising part, but there's definitely some teasing 😁.

I have no idea what happened here, Crosshair wanted that, don't ask me. It went a little bit out of hand, so I turned it into a proper one-shot. First time writing Crosshair, please be kind, he is hard (no pun intended). Extremely indulgent. Training room fantasies, am I right? Timeline is before Order 66, in case anyone wants to know.

This was so much fun, thank you again for the request! 💜 -Sunset

✩Ao3 Link

The drops of sweat fell down your neck as you tried to stabilise your heart. You knew what to do, deep breath, one, two, let it out, and your heart slowly went back to its normal rhythm. The rain threw itself to the floor to ceiling window of the training room, while the waves crashed as well, making it impossible to distinguish which way was the water coming from. You hated being stationed in Kamino, it was like being trapped inside a gigantic washing cycle. Only storms and sleepless nights spent alone in a training room.

“Odd hours for a training session.”

The deep voice startled you, and you turned around quickly. Its owner was watching you, lounging at the door like a wave just brought him there. He was… strange for a clone, was he even a clone? Maybe he was a bounty hunter like you, but then why would he be wearing the black glove of the Republic? He had to be. Those muscles were too perfect to not be engineered, and those legs looked good enough to—

“Are you done?”

You spluttered, embarrassed at being caught ogling him, and put your hands on your hips in an attempt to command some respect. “Identify yourself, trooper.”

“Crosshair.” He squared his shoulders and entered the room, letting the door slide close after him. “I know who you are, I’ve seen you training regs.”

“Is that what you want? Some training?”

“There’s nothing you could teach me.” He took a studiously slow step towards you and you repressed the urge to take one back. Something about the way he moved made him look dangerous, even if he was unarmed. “But there is something that I want. You.”

“Is that so?”

“Let’s say, I have you in my scope.” The mirth in his eyes told you there was a joke there that you were not getting, but the tone of his voice didn’t let any doubt about what he was actually saying.

“Please, you wouldn’t even know what to do with me,” your tone of voice matched his sassy one to your surprise. Why were you enabling him? Oh, Maker, were you flirting? Were overconfident clones your type tonight?

He stopped in front of you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, a high contrast with the cold room. “We could make it a game. We could see how long it takes until I turn you into a whimpering mess.”

While he spoke, he started circling around you, a brief touch to your arm, his fingers drawing the curve of your hip. When he reached your other side, you looked over your shoulder to his warm eyes. By the suns, he was smoking hot. His white hair fell down on his forehead, and it was blinding under the neon lights of the facility. Blast it, if he wanted to play, you could play. What he was offering was definitely better than training by yourself, there was nothing wrong in taking it. You raised your chin and turned to face him, and he took it as the permission it was. He half-smiled, the corner of his lip barely pulling up, and circled your wrist with his fingers.

“Good choice.”

“You sure think highly of yourself, don’t you?”

He didn’t respond, just let his fingers travel up, through the back of your arm, with enough pressure that the contact felt oddly grounding. From your shoulder, he followed then the angle of your collarbone to the hollow of your neck and rested his palm flat there, on top of your breastbone, his fingertips just grazing your neck.

It made you feel conscious about your heart, which was thundering against his palm. Deep breath, one, two, let it out. He made a non-committal noise, and his hand slid up your neck until his nails grazed the hair of your nape, his thumb resting under your jawbone. He put some pressure into it and you allowed him to lift your head.

Meticulously, he bowed his head to you and his breath fanned over your neck. You waited for lips that never came.

“Are you not going to do anything?” You told him, tone annoyed despite yourself. He was getting under your skin too fast for your liking.

“I am.” His lips were still not touching you, but for a second you felt the tip of his nose trace the skin under your ear.

“A conversationalist.”

Crosshair huffed and before you could make another sarcastic comment about it, he grabbed your shoulder and spun you around, making your back collide with his chest. His hand was grabbing now the front of your neck, still forcing your head up, which rested on his shoulder. You closed your eyes and felt his strong body at your back, a solid wall that burned like the scorching sand of Tatooine. His chest was still, almost like he wasn’t breathing, barely moving, and while he was not choking you, the strength and precision of those fingers was clear to you. A thrill went down your spine at the thought.

“You are a sniper.”

He actually chuckled at that, and got closer to your ear, brushing his lips softly against its shell, lowering his sibilant voice. “Clever girl.”

You reached back and clawed at his thighs, but he clearly wasn’t planning on rushing. He started tracing down your figure with his free hand, the curve of your breast, down your stomach, and over your hipbone. One finger sneaked itself under the waistband of your leggings, and stayed there. As a promise.

He barely had touched you but you felt your knees weak already, and refused to let him know that. Trying to break your resolution, his lips dropped to your pulse point, delicately, and a whimper struggled to escape your throat. You swallowed it down in a harsh breath, but your nails sank down harder into the firm muscle. He didn’t flinch, though, Crosshair carried on down your neck, turning them into wet kisses and leaving a trail that quickly cooled down on your skin. The goosebumps were because of that, you lied to yourself.

“I’ve been thinking about this for so long,” he hissed, almost like he was talking to himself. “Seeing those regs poor attempts at flirting with you was painful to watch. Someone as extraordinary as yourself deserves only extraordinary things.”

“And are you?” You breathed, wetting your lips. “Extraordinary?”

“You have no idea.”

A thunder reverberated in the room and you gasped, pushing yourself harder against him. His hand took advantage of it and abandoned your neck, travelling down to your breast, and started kneading it over your clothes.

The solid presence of his body behind you exuded power and confidence, he had you in his hands, quite literally, and he hadn’t needed to do anything. The most intoxicating feeling was the delicacy of his movement and what hid behind it. Because you could feel the restraint, the tension in his body. You realised, then. This man could wreck you, take you with the same violence as the storm outside, but instead he was waiting, like a snake coiled, ready to strike.

He knew what he was doing, he was waiting, looking through his scope. Waiting until you put yourself in front of his crosshair so he had a clean shot.

The bastard wanted you to beg.

You tried to breathe. One, two. Your legs were trembling. One, two. He bit your earlobe. One, two. He pinched your nipple. One, two. Dank Farrik.

“Crosshair, I need yo—“

You didn’t have to finish your sentence.

In a smooth movement, his hand sneaked inside your clothes and grabbed firmly your whole cunt. A whine left your throat and you heard him snickering behind you.

“Still not moaning,” you told him, breathless, but steady.

“You speak with too much dignity for someone this wet for me.”

You felt his fingers slid between your labia, through that wetness that sure enough was there, probably since the moment those eyes pierced into yours. Finally, unhurriedly, he penetrated you with two fingers, finding no resistance, only a warm and drenched welcome. You wanted to scream at him to move faster, but refused to give him the satisfaction and grabbed his thighs, enveloping them completely this time, and squeezed hard.

“You are missing the show,” he rasped, while he started kissing your neck again.

It took you a moment to realise what he meant, his fingers were only barely intruding and his kisses were more a dragging of lips, but your mind was drunk with his presence. You opened your eyes and there, in front of you, you saw yourself. Reflected in the window, with the storm as a background, and Crosshair right behind you. One hand between your legs, while the other grabbed your breast desperately, he returned your gaze.

And he looked devastated.

The visual crumbled your resolve, without looking away you opened your mouth and the lewd sounds he wanted came out of it. He closed his eyes and buried his face in your hair, and you felt a sigh break loose. Crosshair dragged his fingers out of you, and dead on target went directly to your clit and circled it in tight motions almost violently. Your body jerked in his arms, after all the pent-up sensations the intensity hit you perfectly, and soon a fire began to concentrate in you, begging to spread out.

You were dimly aware of Crosshair humping your behind, panting heavily still with his face hidden in your hair, while the frantic pace of his fingers started to match the rhythm of his hips. Your moans were not the only sound in the room now and hearing him whimper against your skin was almost enough to take you over the edge. Almost.

Emboldened and a little bit desperate for your release, you lifted your arm and reached behind you, grabbing his hair and yanking until his face was next to yours. He hissed but it was silenced quickly by your bruising kiss, that he accepted enthusiastically. The moment your lips parted, his tongue invaded your mouth and you yanked at his hair again while a white heat spread like wildfire inside you. Crosshair swallowed your scream, and kept massaging you until you rode it out completely.

By the time you came back, he had stopped humping against you and was simply slumped over your shoulder, hugging you from behind, one hand still inside your clothes. You were still pulling at his hair, so you untangled your fingers gently and stroked the side of his head.

“I don’t know how this game of yours worked, but I feel like I won,” you whispered.

You heard a dry chuckle as his body vibrated slightly against yours.

Outside, the storm had subsided a little bit.

*

Your new assignment was supposed to meet you at Hangar-19 ten minutes ago. If you were lucky enough, they had left already and you could go back to bed, you thought to yourself, strolling leisurely through the halls of Tipoca City. You were not in the mood to start a several rotations mission with a new team.

The bastard, as you had started calling him, left shortly after your encounter with flimsy excuses about early calls. You had wanted to search for him in the database, only to realise that he never told you his number, so you had no way of finding him.

When you arrived at the hangar, an Omicron-class attack shuttle threw your hopes out into the ocean. Their owners, clad in black armour, were waiting for you at the ramp and one of them approached you while you tried to remember the rank and name they had given you. Maybe you should have read further than the two first lines.

“I’ve been told to meet with my new assignment here, Sergeant…”

“Hunter. We were expecting you, yes.” He turned and your eyes followed the direction of his hand to the rest of the team. “This is Clone Forc-“

“Crosshair!” You gasped as his white hair came into view when he removed his helmet. Crosshair smirked and puffed out his chest at your reaction.

“Ah! You know her? Nice!”

“This explains where you were last night.”

Your new assignment looked pretty interesting out of the sudden.

Tag list (reminder to let me know if you are not interested in being tagged or if you want to be included!)

@motte-the-goblin @fenharel-enaste @nahoney22

[ninadove]

top 5 miraculous ships?

This one is also surprisingly hard, because Miraculous is the shipping show by excellence, and they’re all pretty compelling! That being said —

1. Feligami

Hopefully there’s no doubt about it by now. They single-handedly kicked me out of a months-long writer’s block, and ever since I’ve written paragraph over paragraph about them... with no intention to stop! 💜❤️

2. Lukadrien

With how much I talk about the Sentikids, you’d almost forget Luka was my favourite character back in season 3! Every time I write him, he and Adrien go heart-eyes over each other. It’s almost against my will at this point.

There’s so many interesting things to explore about them, from the angstiest to the sweetest. Luka feeling left out in Wishmaker only to bask in love in Migration. Adrien opening up about his Aspik trauma to someone who can understand. Luka being, to this day, the only person who figured out Chat’s identity. Two very pretty boys who are unlucky in love and terrible at getting what they want... Has anyone ever written Luka x Cat Walker? Lukatwalker? I think someone should write Lukatwalker. Don’t look at me, I have too many WIPs already!

3. Lukadrinette & Adrino

See, that’s where rankings get complicated, because where the Hell do I put Lukadrinette hmm? Hmmmmm? I love the three of them together more than I love Adrinette and Lukanette individually, but less than Lukadrien on its own. It’s a question of balance, I think.

And at the same time, Adrino. There’s just something so comforting about them. The warmth of it all! The dorky flirting in Rocketear! Nino being willing and ready to throw hands with Gabriel since the early episodes of season 1! I love Lukadrien, I love Lukadrinette, but there are universes in which my brain won’t accept any endgame other than Adrino. The Reverse is one of them — all it took was that one conversation between Adrien and Claw and BOOM!!!!! Clawdrino!!! They’re kissing as we speak. I follow the brainworms where they take me.

“But Nina!” I hear you ask, “why not get the best of both words by writing Lukadrino?” to which I reply that you are so right. I’m very curious to see where that might lead us. Unfortunately I am, as previously established, battling an army of WIPs, so the exploration will have to wait.

4. Ladynoir

For the Strikeback of it all. And the London special of it all, too! Marichat was my favourite side of the Love Square for a very long time, but recently I’ve had a craving for…

5. Adribugnoire. Or whatever it’s called.

I’m a hurt/comfort enthusiast, so this surprises absolutely no one. It’s perfect to explore Mari’s crushing responsibilities and her relationships to the people in the know (Kagami Felix Kagami Felix Nathalie Kagami Felix Plagg Bunnyx Kagami FELIX FELIX FELIX). It’s perfect to explore the Sentilore, which you know is my brand. It’s perfect because if I’m going to put a character through the angst machine, you better believe it’s going to be Adrien. It’s perfect because have you seen Bug Noire??? She’s so pretty!!! The London special spoiled me so much!!!

Special mentions:

Julerose and Marcaniel are very cute, of course. DJWiFi I think works best as a QPR, but I might be biased because Kittybella!!! I love Kittybella. Zoenette is also cute. I love Alyanette and especially Loveyalya, the pining is simply excellent. Speaking of the Loveybug AU, Loveyblanc… All these dynamics are so fun to play with, but I rarely get around to it because the Sentikids take up so much of my writing time. As they should! 💚💜❤️

And then there’s the box of ships I don’t want to be canon/endgame, but which I think bring something extremely interesting to the story. Feligami would not be as compelling as it is if it weren’t for Adrigaminette. The plot would not exist at all without Gabeminath. Cholila has so much narrative potential. I’m not rooting for them, but I enjoy what they bring to the table!

Thanks for the ask! 💜❤️

[casualsnickers]

Month of Emmet Quick Write #11

Prompt #11: Photo

Dawn is visiting the two brothers again to spend some time with Ingo while on winter break. She also brought some pictures from Hisui to flip through for a project of hers. Emmet gets invited to see a few of them and he's... mildy concerned, to say the least. Old habits really do die hard.

Read the whole thing below the cut.

“Dawn, these are absolutely abhorrent and you need to delete them.”

“But what’s wrong with them? They’re funny!”

Emmet sat nearby, Eelektross coiled around him as Emmet loaded that week’s dishes into the dishwasher. Emmet could practically hear the ludicrous amount of stress that rolled off of his brother’s voice as both him and his invited guest, Dawn, sat nearby in the living room.

“How were these pictures even taken in the first place? Dawn, the perspectives on these are not in first person.”

“Two of my pokémon have opposable thumbs, uncle.” 

“Why are there pictures of me in here? I don’t remember you ever taking these.”

From over the top of the couch, Dawn peered at Emmet, excitedly waving her phone around as if to beckon him over. “Uncle Emmet! Uncle Emmet!I need you to look at these pictures for me! Pretty please? I took them back in Hisui, and I want to know which ones I should get printed out!”

“Preferably none of them!” Ingo voiced. Ingo then shuddered. “Please don’t show any of these to your guardians- they would sooner have my neck.”

“What’s wrong with the pictures?” Emmet carefully set down what progress he’d made on the dishes, gently accepting Dawn’s phone as the teenager made room on the couch, eagerly snuggling in next to him as she began to flip through the pictures.

“Okay, okay! Look, look, look! Tell me which ones I should print out! I wanna put a few on my wall back home.”

“Very well.” Emmet carefully began to flip through the pictures, the first one making him do a double take. The first picture featured Dawn standing in some massive grassy field, her entire head obscured within a massive Gyarados’s mouth, saliva dripping onto her uniform. She was making a double thumbs-up gesture despite the fact that the Gyarados in question was glaring at her headless torso.

Another picture featured Dawn grinning and standing enthusiastically in front of what looked to be an active volcano pit, a massive, blurry Arcanine-like creature bearing down on top of her with all of its teeth exposed while Dawn was none the wiser, grinning as if taking a picture in front of a tourist hotspot.

Yet another picture, blurrier than the last, featured Dawn squaring up with an utterly massive Ursaring with only her bare hands in the middle of what looked to be a marsh. Another Ursaring laid a few paces away, its body twisted in an odd fashion like a pretzel.

Emmet swallowed, sparing Dawn a bewildered glance. “...I am… deeply concerned. I also have multiple questions.”

“You haven’t even seen the best ones yet!” Dawn complained, completely ignoring the fact that the context of the photos were all but missing. “Keep going through them! There’s like a bajillion of these in my photo gallery and I want to showcase only the best!”

This girl is insane. “Please define what ‘only the best’ means to you.”

Dawn looked thoughtful for a moment. “Hmm. Okay! I know! Pick the ones that surprise you the most. See, you guys are the first to see these pictures. My mom would absolutely murder me if she saw any of these but I mean- bragging rights, so- “

“None of these are ‘bragging rights’, Miss Dawn,” Ingo groaned, his head in his hands.

“I just think it’d be funny if I put up a string of these in my room and then invited my friends over and they saw.”

“A conversation piece?” Emmet questioned.

“...Yeah! That! I’m creating an energy!”

“That energy is fear and probably uneasiness,” Emmet muttered under his breath. He could see the humor in a few of them and Dawn looked to be having fun for the most part. But then, Emmet knew next to nothing about Hisui and how it was for both Dawn and Ingo, having heard nothing about the subject.

Dawn flipped over to another photo that made Emmet pale in the face. The picture was majorly zoomed out but Emmet could easily see Dawn’s blurry silhouette. She was falling head first, her arms and legs stretched out to her sides as a large Braviary darted after her, some kind of massive electrical storm moving in the background.

The next photo was surprisingly of Ingo. Both Ingo and Dawn were sitting calmly in some wooden hut, Emmet recognizing both Ingo’s Gliscor and Alakazam as they sat around a roaring fire. However, the main oddity of the photo was the fact that a massive Froslass with glowing red eyes was positioned directly outside the window with its face pressed up against the glass, reaching in one sleeved hand to quietly unlock the door; something that clearly neither of them had realized when the picture had been taken.

Yet another photo showcased Ingo way up high. So high that he was practically a smudge on the cliff he was scaling. With his bare hands. And no climbing equipment. Emmet recognized Sneasler’s form a ways above Ingo. Dawn was in the forefront facing the camera, pointing exasperatedly at Ingo while shaking her head. Some other boy- one that looked remarkably similar to Dawn- was almost losing it in the forefront with his eyes wide as he yelled something.

Dawn then tugged hard on Emmet’s sleeve. “This one’s my personal favorite.” She clicked over to a wide-shot photo where both her and Ingo were scarcely visible due to some kind of shrapnel explosion taking place between them. Emmet could just barely make out Ingo’s silhouette and signature pose- the one they used to mirror while on the Multi Line- but Dawn was at the forefront, mirroring Ingo’s pose while commanding… a Magikarp. A Magikarp whose expression conveyed an unspeakable amount of resignation and terror.

“What happened? In this photo?” 

“Path of Solitude. Magikarp.” Though Dawn was still smiling, she regarded Ingo coldly, her eyes brimming with venom as she balled her hands into fists. “His idea. To bring a Voltorb to a Splash fight.”

“And you used Self-Destruct?” Emmet blurted out incredulously. “No... Wait.” He grimaced, modeling Dawn’s same expression of irritation as he scooted a centimeter away from his brother. “That is standard Ingo behavior: tank everybody’s pokémon whenever convenient in the worst way possible. No strategy; only brute force.”

Ingo immediately went red in the face, pointedly not meeting either Dawn nor Emmet’s accusatory stares. “We are not getting into the debate about using Earthquake again-”

“It took a hundred tries for me to beat you!” Dawn retorted angrily, reaching across Emmet to grab at Ingo’s coat. “You traumatized Guppy! You made me use so many experience candies! It wasn’t even beneficial to the pokédex!”

They were optional!”

“Cruel and unusual punishment!” Dawn cried, crossing her arms. “Uncle Emmet, I need you to destroy Ingo for me. Teach him a lesson.”

Emmet immediately rolled up his sleeves. “Gladly.”

Ingo held up his hands in surrender. “Could you possibly reconsider?”

Emmet would have dropped the matter. He was a bit tired from taking care of the household chores and his pokémon hadn’t reacted in the slightest at word of a pokémon battle. But that was before Dawn had tugged on his sleeve again, a photo already preloaded, the cutesy charms on her phone jangling as she shoved her phone into Emmet’s awaiting hands.

“I have more,” she spoke slowly, her glare still trained on Ingo as she began flipping through other pictures. “There are several just like these. Uncle Ingo challenged me to a lot of solitude battles. A lot. Good thing I kept them, huh?”

[five-rivers]

Moving On

AO3

For @ave-aria

.

“Have you ever thought about… moving on?”

.

Skulker scoffed.  “Moving on?  That’s a myth.”  He turned back to the weapon he was sharpening.  “A fairytale the Dead tell themselves.  The only thing that’s after life is this, and only if they’re lucky.”  He held the blade up to the light, examining its edge.  “They pretend there’s something after death.  Well.  Is there something after that, too?  The whole thing is ridiculous.  At least on Earth there’s evidence of ghosts.  There’s nothing to support this nonsense.”

.

Spectra smiled, her too-red lips curving perfectly.  Too perfectly, as always.  Her false skin betrayed her.  “Why do you ask?  Contemplating your own post-mortality?”  A white sliver appeared between her lips.  Her real teeth.  “I don’t think you need to worry about that, sweetheart.  After all, to move on, you need to have your affairs put in order.  You need peace.  Satisfaction!  And you, well…  Look at you.  You’re a mess.  No, I can’t see you ever getting satisfaction.  You can’t even get a good night’s sleep.  Can you?  Be honest.”

.

“Moving on?” repeated Poindexter, fidgeting nervously.  “That’s a bit grim, don’t you think?  I’d never–”  He looked away.  “I used to think I wanted that.  To go somewhere else.  And then I did.  And then I wanted to go somewhere else again, and I…  Someone told me, once, that wherever you go, you bring yourself.”  He adjusted his glasses.  “I don’t know what they were trying to say.  For a long time, I thought that meant I was the problem.  But.  That wasn’t true, not really.”  He squared his shoulders.  “I stopped looking into that kind of stuff.  You should, too.”

.

“Why would we leave the Far Frozen?” asked Frostbite.  “We’ve always been here.  It’s our ancestral– Ah.  I see.  Moving on, not from here, but from the Ghost Zone as a whole?  From, for lack of a better word, this plane of existence?  Well, there’s never been a documented case of something like that spontaneously happening, but I suppose ghosts that have Ended have moved on, in a sense, although that’s rarely peaceful in any sense of the word.  Why do you ask?”

.

“That would be somewhere under number one thirty-two,” said Ghost Writer, not looking up from his computer.  “Possibly one eleven or one twenty-nine.”  He continued typing, only looking up after a minute.  “The Dewey Decimal system.  You have heard of it?”  He looked away again.  “That should tell you all you need to know on the subject.  Now, go away.  I’m writing.”

.

Johnny started laughing.  “Oh, that’s a good one.  Moving on.  Yeesh.”  He wiped a tear from his eye.  “Oh, wait.  You’re serious.  Yikes.  Okay, so.  I dunno.  Like, I’ve got everything I want here.  My girl, my best bud,” Shadow shrieked encouragingly at this, “my bike, nothin’ but open roads in front of me.  This’s paradise.  What’s moving on got on that?  Nothin’, that’s what.”

.

“I’ve already moved on!  I’ve got the move on, I’ve got the groove on!  I’m whatcha wanna put the tube on!  And!  My latest invention!  Will let me, Technus, master of technology and everything that uses LEDs!  Harsh the vibes of anyone who tries to stop me!  From! Taking over the world! Ahahahahaha ha!  Also, you’re way too young to think about that kind of thing.”  Technus’s current body rearranged itself into a massive gun.  “Now, perish!”

.

“Moving on,” said Kitty, thoughtfully.  “Johnny said you’d asked him about it.”  She leaned against the brick wall, seemingly not caring about the grunge her bright red jacket would pick up.  “I’ve thought about it.  Every time Johnny and I break up, which I guess makes it all the time.  But not, like, seriously.  Death, afterlife, whatever… it might not be everything I wanted, right?  But it’s got Johnny, and that’s all I really need.”

.

“MOVING ON?  IS THAT A MOVING COMPANY?  THE BOX GHOST GREATLY ENJOYS MOVING COMPANIES!  THEIR VEHICLES ARE ALWAYS STOCKED WITH WONDERFUL RECTANGULAR BOXES!  Oh, uh.  I MEAN, FEAR ME!  I AM THE BOX GHOST!”

.

“Eh?  Whazzat?”

“Kid wants ta know ‘bout movin’ on, Ernie.”

“Ha!” the third vulture said.  “Movin’ on.  Movin’ on.  That’s more of a fool’s game than this.”  He threw down his cards.  “Fold.”

“Four?”

“Fold.”

“Ya don’t havta shout.  Movin’ on, huh.  No one’s asked us that inna while, eh?”

“Yeah, yeah.  Two thousand and ten years old, at this point we’ve seen it all.  Loadsa movin’ on.”

“Mostly ‘cause we pecked ’em ta death, mind.”

“But, yeah, people move on.  Sometimes they even move to Florida, am I right?”  The vulture waved one of his wings and cards slipped out from between his feathers.  

“You cheating b–”

.

“It’s something I’ve considered,” said Desiree, raising her head from where it had been resting on her coiled tail.  “It’s even something I’ve helped others consider.  Why, are you here to make a wish?  No?  More’s the pity.”  She sighed heavily, resting her chin on her manicured and hennaed fingers.  “Of course, my curse keeps me here, or I would have already left.”  She sighed, heavily.  “It’s lovely, the other world.  Exactly as the old mullahs said.  Do let me know if you change your mind, won’t you?”

.

“I have not,” said Pandora, in her path to adjust one of the hedges of her maze.  “The subject does not hold much interest for me, I’m afraid.  Oh, certainly, I have seen those who claim to know the secrets of moving on, who have certain predictions about what comes next.  But I always wonder… If they are so wise, if they have so much knowledge, why do they not go themselves?”  She shook her head.  “The next world as unknowable to us as this one was when we yet lived.  If it exists at all.”

.

“There are better alternatives if you tire of this world.”  Nocturne’s robes flowed behind them, a hole in the universe leading to the void.  “More reliable alternatives.  After all, who knows what lies beyond?  Why risk that when you can have everything you dream about?”  He smiled sharply, leaning close.  “Why waste time on that fantasy when you can have… mine?”

.

“What are you talking about?” demanded Plasmius.  “Moving on?  From what?  I don’t have anything to move on from.  There’s nothing I have to move on from.  I’m not holding on to anything.  I’m not obsessed.  I swear, if this is another cat thing, I’m not responsible for what I’m about to do to you.”

.

“Well, I’ve heard some ghosts talk about it,” said Dani, swinging her legs back and forth where she was perched on the tree branch.  “But it’s a bit different for me, isn’t it?  There wasn’t anything before for me.  There’s just… me.  Now.  I guess I have some baggage.  Everyone does, and, you know, I’m a clone, so there’s some extra baggage right there.  But what am I supposed to do?  Drop it all and go into the light?  Come on.  I’ve got stuff to do.  Places to see.  Things to eat.”  She leaned back and looked up at the sky.  “Maybe once I’ve done all the stuff I haven’t got the chance to, I’ll look into it more, but for now?  Nah.  Not for me.”

.

“Well, sure,” said Danny.  “Some day, probably.  I’m not…”  He looked away, pressing his lips together.  “I don’t do well when I’m on my own.  So… If that ever happens, I think I’d look into ways to do that… safely.  If it doesn’t happen naturally.  You don’t have to worry about me doing that, though.  I mean.  It’d be after, um.”  He crossed his arms.  “Nothing lasts forever.  I get that.  I wouldn’t–  It wouldn’t be like before.  Why are we talking about this, anyway?  Anything like moving on is ages off for all of us.  Right?  There’s not something you’re not telling me, is there?”

.

The regular ticking of the clocks provided a stark counterpoint to the irregular flicker of the candle flames Clockwork floated in front of.  Wax dripped heavily to the floor.  He turned slightly, his profile in sharp contrast with the light behind it.  “Nothing lasts forever, as I know you’ve been told.  Even in the undying realm of ghosts, everything, and everyone, has its time.”

.Jazz chewed the end of her pencil, but put it to the paper to write: Ultimately, this line of inquiry led to more questions than answers…

[sarah-sandwich-writes]

another time, a different place (I have loved you before)

I’m intrigued 👀👀

( ☆ω☆ )

The first chapter is up even though I only have a very rough not quite 5k written so far, which is something I haven't done since my very first fic ever so like heeheehoo hope it works out, but I want to make sure I actually write it bc every time I rediscover this wip I fall in love with the premise all over again. It's gonna be a biggun tho I fear *sigh*

It's an endgame fix it fic! Featuring a fresh outta the soul stone Peter and (although he doesn't remember him) Harley. There are lots of flashbacks to Harley and Peter's time in the soul stone, but neither of them remember it, they just have strange dreams they don't quite remember and a lot of deja vu when they interact.

The MOst Fun THing for me right now is the dissonance between soul stone Harley (a joy! a delight even!) and present day Harley (what crawled up his butt and died??) and the most difficult thing about it is, due to forces outside my control (the mcu timeline) they're high schoolers 😒 which is fine I just am tired of writing high schoolers. Basically the timeline thing is specifically designed to torture me you don't even KNOW what I mean but someday you will and we'll all look back at this post and go sarah wtf why didn't you just go full au so you could age them up and not have to-- THAT"S NOT THE POINT!!

Anyway! Here's Peter being a grump, Harley being a dick, and Flash being obnoxiously attention-starved <3

MJ squints at him. “How do you guys know each other?”

Harley weighs Ned and MJ with a look. “Depends. How much do you know about your lunch buddy’s nighttime pastime?”

“Not here,” Peter snaps. Then he adds, because how could he not, “They know more than you.”

Harley tips his head and, curious, looks at Ned and MJ anew. “Huh.”

“Wait, how much does he know?” Ned demands.

“Later.” Peter looks around, but no one seems to be listening. On the other side of the room, Flash is telling anyone who will listen about his spring break plans in Norway. He pushes away his crumb covered tray and skewers a glare on Harley. “Why are you here?”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, because you live in Tennessee?”

Harley pops a torn off chunk of greasy bread in his mouth and says, “I live in New York.”

“Since when?”

“Since I moved here. What’s with the interrogation? Pepper thought you’d be excited.”

“Ohh,” Ned interjects. His expression compresses into a pitying wince. “Did you know Mr. Stark, too?”

“Not h—,” A hard thump on Peter’s back interrupts his repeated warning.

“Are you still still peddling that tall tale, Penis?”

He grits his teeth and doesn't turn around. “Go away, Flash.”

Flash straddles the bench beside him and raises his voice. “Wow, the man’s dead and you’re still trying to ride his coat tails. What’s it like to be that desperate to be someone important?”

“Fuck off, Flash,” MJ says with a note of warning.

He puts up his palms and gets louder. “Honest question! I have no idea what it’s like to be a poor nothing orphan who has to make believe he’s a hero to justify the drain he is on society and his family. Well, what’s left of his family anyway.”

He was concentrating so hard on not letting his irritation show that he missed Harley getting to his feet and rounding the table. But there’s no way anyone could miss him hauling back a fist and planting it square in Flash’s mouth.

[howdoyoudothedew]

Rated: G

Pairing: Maggie/Sophie/Nate/Sterling

Word Count: ~1k

A/N: Rewatching Leverage with my mom and asked my friend which of the ideas I have spinning I should write, she said 'leverage parents' so ta-daaaa, my beloveds. This is based off the dialogue prompt "No, I'm paying" which I got from a @otp-imagines-cult post

The second the waitress puts the check down on the table and leaves, the date turns into a warzone. Honestly, Maggie’s not even surprised at this point. She is, however, rather amused. Starting Leverage, getting together with Sophie, has been good for Nate. He’s more like the man she fell in love with and married, even if he’s still broken. (He was always broken, to an extent.) It’s good for Jim, too. The change to their occasional competition keeps him more on his toes and has even loosened him, if only slightly. Which is why this is even happening.

“How can I trust that money isn’t ill-gotten gains, hm?” Jim says, raising an eyebrow. Jim, Nate, and even Sophie all have their wallets out. Maggie has her own wallet out as well, but she’s not joining in. She already knows how this one will end. While they’re distracted, she pulls out her card and places it inside the booklet for the waitress to grab when she comes back. Sophie catches her and smiles, but doesn’t put away her wallet. Maggie settles back to watch.

“Why I never!” Sophie gasps, affronted at her money even being suggested as ‘ill-gotten’. “I’ll have you know I got this money off a very rich man fair and square. I barely even had to do anything before he was handing it off to me.”

“How do we know your money wasn’t ill-gotten, hm?” Nate says, raising his own eyebrow and sitting back with his arms crossed over his chest. Jim scoffs.

“Maybe because I’m not a criminal, unlike some people,” Jim says.

“Hey!” Sophie protests again. “I am not the only criminal at this table anymore.”

“Right, because you seduced Nate to the darkside,” Jim says, voice dry.

“I’ll seduce you next,” Sophie says, despite having basically already done just that, narrowing her eyes at him.

“You know what, I’m just going to pay,” Nate says, cutting them off.

“What? No, I’m paying, you paid last time,” Sophie says and Maggie files the information away, because she had paid last time, just like she usually does. Which means Nate had gotten Hardison to sneak some of his money into her account, so he could retroactively pay for it. Which is so many more steps then needed. Also kind of annoying. She’s not exactly broke and they don’t exactly do this terribly often. She can– and will happily– pay for her datemates herself. The waitress passes by, grabbing the book absently when Maggie subtly holds it out for her. None of the others notice, thankfully, too wrapped up in their argument.

“Absolutely not,” Jim says.

“Well someone has to pay,” Sophie says.

“I’ll do it,” Nate says.

“I’m not using money when I don’t know from whence it came,” Jim says.

“From whence it came? Who even says stuff like that anymore?” Nate scoffs.

“I do,” Jim bristles.

“If he’s gonna talk like that, I’m definitely not letting him pay,” Sophie says.

“What does my speech have anything to do with paying?” Jim says, rounding on Sophie.

“It’s too posh for my taste.” Sophie sticks her nose in the air.

“Says our Lady Charlotte Prentiss,” Nate mutters into his coffee.

“Oh now you want to get in on it? And here I was defending you.”

Nate gives a half-laugh through his nose. “No you weren’t, you’re trying just as hard to get us to let you pay.”

“You’re right, I wasn’t. Now let me pay,” Sophie says.

“No, I’ll pay,” Nate says.

“I’m paying,” Jim says.

“Absolutely not,” Sophie and Nate say at the same time, which is apparently Jim’s breaking point.

“Fine! Maggie pays then.” Jim throws his arms up as well as he can get away with in a fancy restaurant and Maggie can barely keep in the amused noise.

“Fine,” Nate says.

“Fine,” Sophie agrees.

Apparently an expert at comedic timing, the waitress returns then with Maggie’s card. “Here you go. I hope you have a good night.”

“Thanks, you have a good night too,” Maggie tells her, ignoring the boys’ shocked looks for now as well as Sophie’s amused smile as she returns her card to her wallet. When she looks back at them, she pretends to be oblivious. She lets her eyes grow slightly wide and blinks a few times. “What?”

“You already paid,” Nate says.

“Someone had to and you three seemed busy, thanks to Sophie,” Maggie says.

“Wha-” Nate stares at her, eyes narrowed. Maggie can see the gears turn as he goes over her words, Sophie’s actions. Finally, he turns to Sophie. “You knew,” Nate accuses.

“Of course I knew, I’m not blind,” Sophie says and Maggie chuckles.

“Then why’d you even bother to argue about it?” Jim asks, clearly exasperated.

“Well I’m not just going to let you and Nate have all the fun, am I?” Sophie asks, a rhetorical question. “Now who’s leaving the tip?”

“Oh no, I am not doing this again,” Jim says. You absolutely will, Maggie thinks to herself. Likely not now, but definitely next time.

“All three of us will leave the tip, since Maggie was so kind to pay,” Nate says.

“That, I am surprisingly okay with,” Jim says.

“Why must you ruin all my fun?” Sophie pouts at Nate, digging out a few dollars from her wallet.

“I’m sure you’ll find some again soon, Soph,” Nate assures.

“And will give me a headache in the process,” Jim says, also pulling out a few dollars. Sophie smiles at him.

“You love it.” Jim declines to respond to her. But Maggie knows Sophie is right. Protest as he may, Jim loves all of them.

“Ready to head out?” Nate asks, standing from his chair. Maggie follows his lead.

“I think so,” she says. “It was lovely to see you all again.”

“It was lovely to see you, too, Maggie. I wish we could do this more often,” Sophie says, taking Maggie’s hands to squeeze. Sophie’s hands. They’re always cold, making her think of the old thing her grandmother used to tell her: cold hands, warm heart. With Sophie, Maggie finally has evidence towards it.

“There’s a Picasso showcase at the museum next week,” Maggie says.

“You’re just trying to give me an aneurysm at this point, aren’t you?” Jim grouses. Sophie pats his cheek.

“It’s our way of keeping you young.”

“It’s your way of giving me more gray hairs,” Sterling says.

“Does this mean you won’t go to the museum with us?”

“Someone has to keep you from stealing a very expensive painting,” Sterling says.

“So next week?”

“Next week,” the other three agree and they part ways in the parking lot, Sophie and Nate leaving together while Jim and Maggie leave separately.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

For make me write!!

🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮 (I love this fic and everything about it and I can’t even go into why but thank you for writing and sharing and I’m excited about part 2)

⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡(The last chapter was so sweet and I’m so excited to see where Buck and Eddie’s journey is next with the wedding and future plans. And yay for good communication).

🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮 (Ah the Bobby seeing Buck’s past had me in tears I don’t think Im ready for the opposite of that)

🚨🚨🚨🚨(I went from emotional to OH NO real quick)

🩸🩸 (Eddie healing from all his trauma in this one is just *chefs kiss*)

💐(The couple of snippets I have seen, this one about May just seems so interesting! Plus I love getting to see recurring/non-main characters heads!)

HI!!! THANK YOU!

30 for 🦮 (THANKS! I am so excited to share Pt. 2)

---

 One, trying to work from home with a little kid in the house. Two, knowing that, elsewhere, Eddie is struggling considerably with missing his son. And, three, the fact that Cranberry seems to be matching Buck’s bored, cagey energy. 

Christopher is a great kid. Really, the best. But he’s still a kid. And the novelty of online school - for both student and teacher - means a lack of order and structure that leads to him inevitably seeking out Buck several times an hour. Buck has to give him a stern talk about interrupting meetings if it’s not an emergency. And no, needing a Rice Krispie Square is not an emergency. Although Buck understands the urgency. He’s been snacking on them lately, too, and they’re sort of addictive.The point is, it’s not easy sharing the same space with a kid literally all the time with no breaks. Even a kid he genuinely adores. Especially when he’s never been anyone’s primary caregiver before, other than Cranberry. 

As for Eddie, Buck knows he’s not adjusting great. They talk every single day. Often multiple times a day. He tries to put up a brave face, but he misses his son and feels badly for leaving him again. 

“It just brings back old shit,” he explains one evening over FaceTime. “Like I’m back where I started. Even if I know that’s not true.”

He’s not alone at least. Hen and Chim have both moved into Buck’s apartment temporarily, too. Which Buck thinks sounds crazy crowded. But he gets it. They both have families to protect. And with Maddie recently announcing her pregnancy, Chim is extra anxious. So, at least Eddie has company. People to look out for him at work and away from it. Because right now, there’s not a lot Buck can do for him, other than be a constant ear. 

“You’re already doing the most important thing for me,” Eddie argues when Buck expresses this. 

---

24 for ⚡(thank you!!!! I am plowing full steam ahead on this wedding hahah because I want to get past it):

---

“Shall we take a look at the bedrooms?” Gianna asks. 

“Definitely,” Eddie replies. 

She leads them down the hallway to where three white-walled bedrooms of different sizes wait to be viewed. The master has a lot of space. It’s got an odd sort of shape, longer than it is deep. But the ensuite bathroom is kind of a dream. Shower and tub. Spacious. Recently redone, so it doesn’t need any work. 

Yeah, Buck can see himself enjoying this master suite very much. And enjoying Eddie in it, too… 

The other bedrooms are good sizes too. One is almost as big as the master, minus the closet space and bathroom. 

“Chris would appreciate that,” Eddie says. 

The other is a bit tinier, but would be perfect for a, well, tinier person. 

By the end of the house tour, Buck realizes he doesn’t actually have a single major complaint. 

“What do you think?” Gianna asks. 

Eddie looks at Buck hopefully. He likes it. Buck knows he likes it. 

“I think we should talk about it,” Buck concedes. “It’s got everything we need and it’s close to family.”

---

18 for 🔮(TBH the Bobby one is sadder):

---

He doesn’t matter here. 

He retracts his hand. 

“Charlie, please,” their mother says.

Charlie huffs. “Fine. Whatever.”

The rest of the drive is silent. Bobby wipes the tears off his face, presses his cheek to the glass of the window, and stares off into space. Buck wishes he could crack open his head and look inside. He wants so desperately to understand what he’s thinking. Past and present. 

Buck wonders if Bobby has always been so hard to read. If he has always kept what’s hurting him so close to his chest. Did this start recently? With his father dying? Or before? How much agency does a kid have in their emotional reactions? Buck knew he often felt out of control at this age.

---

12 for 🚨(hahahaha sorry):

---

“Are you sure you’re okay with me taking your room, Eddie?” Hen asks when they arrive on the first day. “One of us can take the couch. Really.”

“Oh, it’s fine!” Eddie insists. “Buck and I can share. No biggie.”

Eddie hasn’t slept in his bed in weeks.

“Makes sense,” Buck adds. “Then it’s only two people per washroom. Much better shower schedule.” 

Hen raised an eyebrow at Eddie, who just offers her an awkward smile.

---

6 for 🩸(THANK YOU!):

---

“You can’t escape!” The guy shouted. Loud enough to indicate to Eddie that he had no idea how close Eddie was to him. 

“You all have to die for this to be over, you know” He continued. “It’s the only way!”

---

3 for 💐 (THANKS!):

---

“I know,” April shrugs. “Doesn’t hurt to have another set of hands, though, does it?”

There’s a confidence in her tone, like she just knows she’s so capable and good at this.

[sharada-n]

@zehecatl would have my head if I didn't post this publicly which is silly because WOW AM I RUSTY AT WRITING THESE TWO BUT UH-

Here you go babe happy birthday MWAH

-

They’ve been watching the sliver of moon visible outside their cell get smaller and smaller.

Inuyasha doesn’t act differently than he has the past week or so. He’s restless, and that’s about what Miroku is used to from him - even more so now that they’ve been captured. Always searching for something, always heading towards something. Like if he sits still, that’s the same as dying. And Miroku won’t pretend he can’t relate, because that is how it has been for him too. With the curse being a poignant reminder of time running out, Miroku doesn’t feel he has much to waste.

But if he doesn’t have time to slow down once in a while, then what is the point? If life isn’t worth living, then he might as well give up now and not inflict the next person with the same suffering that will one day consume him.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Inuyasha says. He’s frowning at him, as if Miroku’s mind wandering is a personal slight against him.

“You should try it sometime,” he tells him. And Inuyasha’s brow quirks in amused irritation.

Maybe he’s not wrong that Miroku needs to get out of his own head. But there’s not much else to do while locked in a room. They’ve tried everything to get out, but the paper seals outside are too powerful and they don’t know where the others are, which is its own kind of torture, isn’t it? That’s one thing Miroku prefers not to think about.

“The new moon will be soon,” he says instead.

It’s pretty clear from Inuyasha’s face that’s something he doesn’t want to think about either.

“Yeah…” he mumbles after a moment, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.

“They might kill you,” Miroku adds. Casually, as if it hasn’t been on the forefront of both their thoughts.

“I’d like to see them try,” Inuyasha spits, fire in his eyes and it’s the same as always but also not at all similar. Miroku knows he’ll do something reckless, like he often does.

He can’t allow that to happen. If not for his own selfishness, then for the sake of the others, who probably need Inuyasha more than they need him.

The next night, the moon is gone. Techno’s hair turns black, his eyes fade from their vibrant gold to a paleish gray. It almost takes Miroku’s breath away each time he sees it. Sometimes he reaches out just to brush his fingers through Inuyasha’s hair, a touch the other man used to flinch away from but now begrudgingly allows. Miroku smiles and leans closer to him, using the cold in the cell as an excuse.

He always thought it would be fine to die.

He was raised with it, really. And it never left him, even when he struggled against it. Even when meeting them gave him hope that it didn’t need to end that way. The fear never came back the way it was there when he watched his father be swallowed into nothing.

So when Miroku hears footsteps from down the hallway, it’s easy for him to get up.

Inuyasha reaches for his wrist, barely manages to catch onto his sleeve, but Miroku pulls free. They’re both human tonight. 

“What the fuck are you-” Inuyasha doesn’t even get a chance to finish.

Miroku throws a punch at the first guy that comes on. A good one though, he manages to catch them square in the jaw. The man yelps and stumbles backward into one of his friends. His throat is grabbed immediately after, but it’s fine. They always only take one of them to entertain themselves with at night. Tonight it just has to be Miroku. It has to be.

At least the feeling of fingers leaving bruises on his skin is familiar enough.

—

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Inuyasha asks him when they’re back together. Miroku was more or less thrown into the cell again. Their captors didn’t give Inuyasha a second glance. He doubts they even noticed he’s a human tonight.

“You know you can just thank people when they protect you,” Miroku mumbles. His cheek is bruised where it presses into Inuyasha’s shoulder. So close it aches, his skin crawling with every inch that connects them. He feels too cold, yet also like he can’t stand to live without the touch.

But there’s no chance Inuyasha will let him go after that stunt. And maybe Miroku is secretly grateful for it.

“I don’t need you to protect me,” Inuyasha says.

Miroku laughs. “Just because you don’t need me to doesn’t mean I don’t want to.” He tries to flick Inuyasha’s forehead, but the other man catches his wrist.

“Don’t,” he says, testily. Always so on edge. Miroku chuckles again. Then Inuyasha glances at his bruised knuckles. Miroku might be delirious because he almost wishes Inuyasha would press his lips to them. Gentle, brief.

He doesn’t, of course.

But he does smile, and his forehead presses against the top of Miroku’s head, and the dawn is minutes away.

And for a moment, Miroku doesn’t care if they’ll get out of here or not.