#you can see a couple of differences in its design between the drawing here and the one in my icon

[jurweemsm]

I'm curious what your profile pic is supposed to be? Like I can sorta make out a face but it looks so weird

~anon who DEFINITELY is NOT the blog owner needing an excuse to bring this question to light

Well, inconspicuous anon, it's a fan-made monster:

It's design is still subject to change; I haven't even chosen its colors yet

At some point I drew up a lot of concepts for a fan island, and playing with all the concepts for that was gonna be the main attraction for this blog.

[crguang]

lost virgins with broken wings that will regrow

You’re an ordinary person with a void in your chest. Black Swan means to fill it.

smut, afab!reader, virgin!reader, sorta stalker!black swan (im just going with canon here…) so mention of voyeurism, oral sex on both parts, fingering, overstimulation, switch!r and swan, 9.3k words and 6k of it is just smut……………

A/N: um…… i just think she’s neat.

black swan: they are such a loser, weirdo, freak, social outcast i have GOT to fuck them

It’s under low, pulsing lights and seated between intoxicated bodies, sensual music in your ears and a half-empty drink in hand, that you feel the most alone. The irony burns your throat not unlike the alcohol you’re sluggishly sipping every five minutes as you take in the sea of strangers on the dance floor of the club rhythmically moving with the beat on the speakers.

Beside you at the bar, a couple converses lowly to themselves, staring into each other’s eyes and laughing quietly like there doesn’t exist a world beyond their intimacy. To your right, friends argue over who will be the designated driver tonight and draw from actual straws provided by one of the bartenders. The unlucky one pouts and the rest cheer before enthusiastically ordering colorful cocktails from a pink haired bartender. The bass reverberates through you, inciting you to join the sweaty bodies losing themselves in the music, but the throb of your head is louder. You feel fatigue at the corner of your eyes while you swirl the clear liquid in your glass and watch its hypnotizing movement, briefly lost in it. You tune out the drunk laughter and shameless flirting happening around you and feel the familiar sensation of your heart constricting in your chest. No one is interested in your sulking, people come and go in the seats beside you, oblivious to your inner struggle. When the feeling spreads to your lungs, forcing you to breathe in the smell of alcohol and sweat, you turn on the stool to search for your friend in the crowd. You catch a glimpse of her red hair as she sways against a tall woman with dark coily hair; she seems to be having fun, occasionally giggling when the woman bends to whisper in her ear, so you sigh and rest an arm on the bar. It was an unspoken rule that if you went clubbing together, you would either leave together or make sure the other would be sober enough to walk out the door with a stranger. You’ll give her another half hour, maybe, before ruining her night by telling her you want to go home.

“You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself,” a smooth, sultry voice sounds near you.

You smell her before you see her; strong traces of resins and dried fruit, like incense sticks burning through the air, easily overwhelm the different odors assaulting your nose from the variety of people around. The pleasant fragrance makes you pivot in your seat. A woman sits on the stool to your left and drums her gloved fingers on the counter thoughtfully, keen gaze already on you and a small, easy smile on her lips. They look bare in the low lighting, though you can discern a soft sheen on them that suggests she must have applied lipgloss not too long ago. Her thick, pale hair frames her cheeks and disappears down her back in two wavy parts that would undoubtedly reach the back of her thighs were she to stand upright. The purple veil over her head matches the color of her dress— you think it’s a dress, maybe a tight strapless top?— and the sort of stained glass accessory between her collarbones that connects her top to the lacy piece around her neck. Your first thought is that she looks out of place amongst the flimsy, provocative clothing everyone is flaunting. Your second is that she’s gorgeous, the kind you can’t help but stare at like a fool. Which you are currently doing. Her head tilts in question and you blink, remembering the words she’s spoken to you a moment earlier.

You suddenly feel shy under her gaze as you try to come up with a reply.

“I’m not,” you say, mentally cringing at your lack of tact. Your honesty seems to amuse her though, sunset eyes glimmering with mirth.

“Not your kind of scene, I presume?” She has to lean closer for you to hear each other over the music and you meet her halfway.

You shrug dismissively, not wanting to admit that being surrounded by people only made you feel terribly lonely. It would ruin the conversation, you’re not that socially inept for you to know that. “Not really, no. The drinks are nice, though.”

You can barely hear her hum as she replies, “And yet, here you are. What makes you suffer through such an unpleasant experience?”

You find her way of speaking a little odd. Evidently, she’s not from around here. You turn around to face the dance floor and her eyes follow the direction you point your chin towards.

“I’m here with her,” you gesture to the redhead cheekily grinding against the same woman from before. The sight is a little funny, despite your mood you’re glad that she’s enjoying herself.

“I see. A friend of yours?”

You nod and steal a glance at the woman beside you. Her posture is impeccably straight, chin resting in the palm of her hand while she leans an elbow on the counter, and she looks at you with a sense of familiarity that you can’t reciprocate. You’ve never met her before, you would have remembered. You’re not the type to be embarrassed by every little thing but her attentive stare makes you feel exposed, as if you’re standing in front of her with your flesh turned inside out and she could see the gross parts of you usually hidden from sight. You want to evade her gaze, if only to compose yourself, but you can’t bring yourself to. She pulls you in effortlessly with only a look and you lean towards her when she speaks up again.

“I realize I haven’t asked for your name.”

You tell her your name, having to speak a little louder to be heard over the music. She repeats it, trying the feel of it on her tongue, then her eyelids lower in appreciation, a knowing smile on her face.

You ask for hers in return and she offers a gentle hand after answering you. “I am Black Swan.”

Black Swan. An odd name, like her odd behavior and turns of phrases. She stands out like a sore thumb and doesn’t seem to care enough to try to blend in. Her politeness is endearing, so you grasp her hand to shake it half-jokingly. Her fingertips linger on your skin when you slowly pull away.

“What about you? Are you here alone?” You don’t see anyone else acknowledging her presence around you. Black Swan confirms your suspicions with a nod. “Ah. A party girl, then.”

Her quiet laugh is beautiful, low and velvety. It makes you suppress a smile. The music blasting through the speakers is now much more energetic and worsens your headache.

“What makes you say that?”

You shrug. “You don’t seem from here but you also look totally at ease. I thought maybe you were either the sort to adapt quickly or to love this kind of scene.”

Black Swan hums, a forefinger tracing shapes on the surface of the bar. “I suppose that assumption is not entirely incorrect. I am not a local, no.”

“Where are you from?”

“That is… a complicated question to answer.”

You raise a curious eyebrow and she pushes some hair out of her face with a hand before leaning into you, closer to your ear. You pause as her soothing scent fills your nose and you feel her breath on your cheek, words meant only for you.

“Let’s talk somewhere quieter, if you wish. We can continue our conversation without having to yell to be heard.”

You consider her offer, hesitant. Your stomach tightens at her proximity and you would be lying if you said you didn’t want to keep talking to her. Her subtle charms lure you in and lower your defenses, and that is both refreshing and concerning. Black Swan feels like the kind of person you only meet once, you want to make the most of it. Not to mention that it would be stupid to deny how attractive she is. You look back at your friend in the middle of the dance floor, suddenly envious of how easy it is for her to be comfortable among the crowd. She hasn’t spared you a glance since she was approached by her dancing partner and while that doesn’t really bother you, part of you wants to prove that you’re also able to make immediate connections with strangers, that you’re not an antisocial freak who only keeps to themself.

“Okay,” you accept and look away at the pleased glint that shines in Black Swan’s eyes. “I have to warn my friend, it’ll take a second.”

You stand from the bar stool and clumsily make your way to the middle of the room, narrowly avoiding sweating limbs and their intoxicated owners. You hate the way anxiety buzzes uncomfortably in your guts as you’re closely surrounded by so many people. You make it to where your friend is, breathing heavier from the stress, and tap her shoulder to get her attention. She wears a grin as she sees you and jumps a couple times in excitement, grabbing your shoulders.

“You wanna dance?!”

“I’m leaving with someone,” you say loudly, pointing to the bar. Her eyes squint, looking in the same direction. She stands on her tiptoes to see over the heads of some clubgoers but doesn’t seem to find who you’re referring to. “Are you gonna be okay?”

She looks back at you and smiles with a quick nod. You don’t think she’s drunk, maybe just a little tipsy, because her eyes are clear and she hasn’t pulled you into an intricate dance only she knows the steps to yet.

“Have fun! Don’t worry about me! Go get laid!”

You make a face, embarrassed by the idea. She only laughs loudly and turns back to the woman she’s been with all night. You make your way back to the bar as fast as you can, eager to be away from the crowd and deafening music. Black Swan waits for you near the end of the counter and gently takes your hand in hers when you get close enough. Her gloved fingers delicately curl around your hand, an unexpectedly comforting sensation. She expertly navigates through the sea of bodies, tugging you along with a firm hand until you’re both out of the club and standing under the moonlight.

From outside, the music has dulled to a faint pulsing and you feel like you can finally breathe properly. You briefly close your eyes to take in a slow breath, inhaling the crisp summer breeze and exhaling softly through your nose. Black Swan is still holding your hand as you do, she turns to face you and observes the way your shoulders relax a little more with each calming breath. Your eyes blink open. You feel a bit sheepish under her stare but her small smile assures you that she doesn’t think any ill of you. Your hand slips from her gasp so you can wring them together.

“Do you want to walk as we talk? My place isn’t too far from here,” you realize how that sounds and falter, glancing away. “Not that we have to go.”

“I would enjoy that. Lead the way.”

You scratch your temple awkwardly. There’s a silent pause as you start to walk through the empty streets and closed businesses, almost close enough that your fingers brush with every step. You take your time, your pace measured to bask in the night air and the way the light winds blow Black Swan’s perfume towards your face. The quiet is a reprieve for your throbbing skull, you feel your headache shift to a dull pulse with every passing minute. You look up at the round moon in the sky, then remember your question from earlier, the one she had trouble answering. You start to cross a wooden bridge over a wide canal and clear your throat.

“You didn’t tell me where you were from, earlier,” you say, slowing down slightly to look at the moonlight reflecting off the still water.

“Ah, that’s right.” Black Swan trails her fingers over the railing before coming to a halt. She follows your gaze on the water and leans her forearms on the railing, seemingly lost in thought. You turn the other way, your back against the wooden bars, waiting for her to sift through her thoughts. Finally, her head turns to look at you and she asks, “Are you familiar with Memokeepers?”

You take a second to remember where you’ve heard that word before. “Memokeepers… from the Garden of Recollection, right? Beings who preserve humanity’s memories for the Remembrance.”

“Yes.” She doesn’t add anything else, only rests her cheek in the palm of her hand and gazes at you like she’s able to see past all your barriers and it only fuels her interest in you.

“…Are you saying you’re…?

“I am.”

“Oh,” you ponder the admission for a short moment. That explains why she stands out from the crowd. You think you remember that Memokeepers choose who to be seen by; you must have looked like a crazy person if no one else could see her at the bar. “I don’t think I have any memories worth preserving to attract the attention of a Memokeeper.”

“Mmm… We seek to protect humanity against the irreversibility of time. I, for one, believe there is nothing more human than loneliness, wouldn’t you agree?”

The smile that stretches her lips is a soft one, far gentler than you think you deserve. You look away from her to observe the discoloration of the wood beneath your feet. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised she knows about that considering what she is, but you feel slightly irked at the idea of somebody intruding on your mind without your knowledge or consent. Your thoughts and experiences are yours to keep, no matter what any Aeon may believe.

“I don’t appreciate you looking inside my head.”

Black Swan shakes her head. “I haven’t. I can see it in your eyes.”

“You’re just that astute, huh?”

“Or you don’t hide it as well as you think you do.”

You hum. You can feel the warmth of her stare against your face and when you meet her eyes, you feel small. It’s hard to imagine all the things she has witnessed and lived through, you are nothing compared to her time among mortals. You don’t understand why she’s here with you, who is painfully ordinary and inexperienced in most matters of life.

“I still don’t think I have anything unique to offer to the Remembrance. You’re wasting your time.”

“Collecting every aspect of life includes the mundane, not every memory worth preserving is extraordinary. Besides, I don’t believe you to be ordinary.”

“That’s a bold, but misguided, assumption.”

Black Swan chuckles lowly, straightening up to face you better. She stands slightly shorter than you, even with her heeled boots. A step brings her closer to your body, a hand loosely holding onto the railing.

“I have plenty of those,” she drawls, a little quieter, “and I don’t need to look into your memories to know that they are true.”

“You got all of this from one conversation? I doubt it.”

“Then let me presume something else.”

Your breath hitches as her fingers delicately cup your jaw like it could break under her touch. You’re unable to tear your gaze from hers and you want to shrink faced with the bright sunset colors of her eyes, there’s a knowing sheen in their depths that makes you feel vulnerable in a way you refuse to be with anyone. Her thumb moves across your skin, the gesture almost tender.

“There is an ache in you,” she says, eyelids lowering to watch the movement of her thumb near the corner of your mouth, “a profound desire that creates an immeasurable crater inside of you. You feel that this void makes you fundamentally different from your peers, so you hide behind tall walls and attempt to ignore the cries of your heart.”

Your lips part but the words get stuck in your throat. Black Swan’s smile is without malice and you feel emotion swirl in your gut, tightening the muscles and quickening your breath. A chill passes through you, raising the hair on your arms, and you don’t know if it’s from the temperature or her hold on your jaw. The smooth fabric of her glove rubs against your skin in soothing motions, the smell of incense fills your nose from her proximity, you feel bare in front of her, exposed to her judgment— it’s all too much. You take several steps back to catch your breath and she lets you go somewhat reluctantly, observing your struggle as another breath of wind makes you shiver. The temperature has dropped since you left the nightclub; though you know nights can get chilly, you thought you would be going home in your friend’s car, the same way you got there, and wouldn’t need to bring a jacket.

You rub your arms, hesitantly glancing at Black Swan. “What do you want from me?”

“Let’s get you home, shall we?” She kindly replies instead, extending a hand. “You’re freezing.”

You look at her outstretched palm with slight suspicion. She hasn’t done anything to make you believe that she’s ill-intentioned, quite the opposite, but you’re used to being careful around others. Still, she isn’t wrong. There is a gaping hole in the middle of you and it makes you incapable of letting anyone past the walls you’ve built for yourself, afraid that it would consume whoever ventured too close. You long for something you can’t bear to think about anymore, but Black Swan is… different. Somehow, she sees you for everything you are, and while that thought is uncomfortable at first, it soon develops into something deeper, desperate. You don’t know how it feels to be known. Black Swan materializes behind your defenses and gazes at you with genuine interest. Against your own practiced sense of self-preservation, you let her.

Her hand is warm as you lead the rest of the way to your apartment. A shiver runs through you occasionally and her free hand trails up your arm after each one to warm you. You try to ignore the pulsing of your heartbeat in your ears and the yearning in your gut growing with every casual touch on your skin. You don’t speak much while you walk. It doesn’t take too long to reach your apartment, maybe around twenty minutes or so. You fiddle with the keys when you stand on the doorstep of the building. The door opens with a soft click and you keep it ajar with one hand, turning to face Black Swan.

“Do you want to…”

“Yes.”

She enters the building after you, following you up the stairs to the first floor where you live. Her presence makes you a little anxious since not many people have been inside your living space and you thank the Aeons that you’re a fairly clean person before opening the door and stepping inside. There’s a gust of wind as you walk in and you realize you must have left a window open because the place is colder than usual. You discard your shoes near the entrance to slip into indoor slides, toss your keys into the bowl on the small table and scratch your temple, wondering what you’re meant to do next. You don’t play host often, so for a moment you simply stand in your living room as Black Swan looks around, trailing her fingers on framed pictures and leather chairs. You suddenly feel self-conscious about your taste in interior design but she only looks at you with a smile once she’s seen everything she needs to see.

“Uh, do you want something to drink?” You ask awkwardly, gesturing towards the kitchen. “I have wine.”

Black Swan shakes her head. “I don’t feel thirst— not that kind anyway. You’re sweet to offer.”

You don’t ask her what she means by that, thinking it might be Memokeeper related.

“You should change into something more comfortable,” she adds. “I can see you shuddering.”

It’s not a bad idea. You nod, adjusting the room’s thermostat to a higher temperature and feeling her eyes on you all the while before disappearing into a hallway. Your bedroom is warmer than the rest of the apartment. You let out a breath as you rummage through your drawers for casual clothes, hesitating between sweat shorts and sweatpants. You’re already warming up a little, so you pick the former. You change into a t-shirt and step in front of the mirror to check that you don’t look as tired as you feel. You rub the fatigue out of your eyes then pinch your skin to make you seem more awake. You fiddle with your hair a little until it looks good enough. Thinking of Black Swan in your living room causes your stomach to flutter uncharacteristically. It’s a different kind of nervousness from the one you’re familiar with, anticipation lingers in your belly and you don’t even know what it’s for.

There’s a soft knock at your door that has you pivoting towards the sound in surprise.

“Come in.”

The hinges creak as it opens and Black Swan slips her head through the opening, eyes briefly running down your figure.

“Is everything alright?” You ask.

“Of course. I wanted to check in on you.”

“Oh.”

Her attention catches you off guard still. She walks further into the room, taking note of the various tapestries and images on your bedroom walls, and you sit on the bed as you watch her. Her hands trail on the desk of your vanity, on your low dresser’s wooden surface, around the bottles of perfume you keep on it. She seems entirely at ease in your room like it was her own, her composure not faltering for a moment. Her eyes stop on a polaroid of you and the same redhead you went out with tonight that is stuck to the full length mirror on the door of your closet. She observes it for a while, a finger tracing the picture’s edges.

“When was this?” She addresses you without turning around, immersed in the sight of you doubled over with laughter while your friend stands to the side with icing all over her face, a pout on her lips. A fingertip touches your frozen form. You think maybe she can sense the emotions through the captured memory.

“About two years ago, when we were still rooming together. We used to prank each other when the other least expected it.”

“You seem… lighter, less burdened than you are now.”

She’s right, once again. It feels as though there’s nothing you can keep hidden from her, like she’s already learned you from the inside. She said she hasn’t been inside your mind but you’re not sure if you’re inclined to believe her words. How else can she accurately perceive who you are? Something takes over the uneasiness you would normally feel at being so acutely exposed to another’s gaze, something you recognize and have desperately been trying to ignore for years. The profound yearning for closeness; for fingertips in your hair, for low confessions into the night, for a synergy that can only exist between two beings completely attuned to each other— it swallows you whole and leaves you writhing in its belly. Your fingers sink into the sheets as they curl to grab a fistful of them. You look away from Black Swan to stare at a point on the other side of the room, willing your treacherous heart to be steady.

You don’t notice Black Swan watching you until she steps into your peripheral vision. She walks around your bed, heels muted on the carpet, and takes a seat beside you. Her fingertips brush your fist as her head tilts, sunset eyes dimmed. You just now realize that she doesn’t have any pupils.

“Poor thing,” her voice lowers to a sultry tone, a hand tenderly resting on your cheek, “you’re scared, aren’t you? These emotions inside of you, itching to leave the confines of your heart…” She watches your lips part when you exhale softly through your mouth. Her fingertips trace your jawline before tilting your chin up. “I can sate this hunger, if you wish.”

You swallow, staring into her appreciative gaze. “Why?”

“Why?” She repeats almost to herself. Her thumb slides up your chin to your bottom lip and follows its curve. “I’m afraid that eludes me. There is something unattainable about you, a part of you that is locked away, perhaps. I feel… inexplicably drawn to it.”

Black Swan slowly leans closer as if gaging your reaction and giving you time to react should you want to push her away. You can almost feel her breath on your lips, then she pauses to look up into your eyes, searching for an answer to an unspoken question. She seems to find what she’s looking for and when you think she’s going to kiss you, a persistent fluttering in your lower belly, her head dips to the side and her lips press against the skin of your neck. You tense as her fingers brush your curled ones on the bed, moving over your knuckles to your wrist, then up your forearm in a deliberately gentle touch. You feel her open mouth trail down your neck. Her hand leaves your face to settle on your bare knee. You let out a shuddering breath, frozen in place.

“Your pulse is racing,” she murmurs into your skin, pressing a firm kiss to your pulse point, “I can feel it.”

“What… are you doing?”

“Enjoying you.”

The hand on your knee slides higher, fingertips brushing the fabric of your shorts on your thigh. The other coaxes your muscles to relax with soft touches up and down your arm. You feel overwhelmed by her closeness and you’re unable to do anything but breathe out at the sensation of her slow kisses up your neck and to your jaw. A shiver runs down your spine and she hums in delight. The tip of her tongue tentatively darts out to lick a stripe up your jawline to your ear, causing you to inhale sharply through your mouth and drawing an amused chuckle out of her.

Black Swan pulls away slightly to take in your facial features as her hands sneak under your shirt to hold onto your waist, squeezing once. Your lashes flutter with every blink, the rise and fall of your chest quickening under her seductive touch.

“How adorable,” she mutters with a lustful sunrise in her eyes. Her hands travel over the expanse of your stomach, one of them separating from the other to trail up your back. She rubs the skin over your ribs. “I’ve barely touched you and here you are… so breathless for me.”

A meek sound escapes you at her forwardness and an appreciative gleam brightens her gaze. With her insisting hands on you and her scent all around, you feel entirely at her mercy. When she leans closer for her teeth to graze your neck, your head tilts to allow her better access. Her thumbs rub circles on your waist, enjoying its pliable curves. Your hand sinks into her long hair, messily tangling around the soft locks, and you bite your bottom lip at the low hum that follows. Black Swan finds a sensitive spot on your neck, sucks on the tender skin and your fingers grip her hair tighter at the pleasant sensation of her mouth on you. You relax against her like butter left in the sun. You can’t help the sharp exhales that leave you and with each one, her fingers dig into your sides almost possessively.

Her tongue swipes over the bruising spot at the base of your neck, soothing the dull pain caused by her teeth and earning a quiet, breathy noise from you. Black Swan smiles into your skin.

“So responsive, aren’t you?” Her voice is a sultry purr. Her touches grow bolder, lifting your shirt to pull it above your head in one smooth motion. She discards it somewhere on the bed and leans to gently bite down on your shoulder.

“Oh!”

Her palms roam over your torso, nails brushing the band of your bra. You fleetingly wish she would take off her long gloves so that you could feel her without any barriers and she seems to be thinking the same; a moment later she takes her hands from you to pull the garment off her forearms. You don’t see where they end up, nor do you care, because the feeling of her soft, unscarred palms sliding over the plane of your stomach steals your breath away. They reach your chest, squeezing your breasts over your bra as her wet kisses travel to your collarbones. Her fingertips slip under your bra, grazing your hardening nipples, and something resembling a quiet whimper escapes you.

“I wonder… How long has it been since you’ve been touched like this, mm?”

“I’ve never…”

Her lips pause near your throat. You feel her breath on your skin with every exhale.

“Is that right?”

You nod hesitantly, apprehending her response.

Black Swan pulls her mouth away from you, fingers expertly unclasping your bra to get it out of the way, and firmly pushes you further into the bed. Her gaze is hungry as she straddles your thighs and looms over you, a palm over your breast.

“No one has ever held you so close… had their hands on you like this?…”

“No.”

A possessive glint flashes in her eyes. She squeezes the flesh of your breast, the friction of your nipple brushing deliciously against her palm has you gasping out at the same time Black Swan eagerly claims your mouth. Her tongue pushes past your lips to swirl around yours and she readily swallows the soft moan you let out. You hold onto her hips while she presses breathy kiss after breathy kiss on your lips. You feel a mix of her saliva and yours at the corner of your mouth and her tongue licks it off before meeting your own once more, leaving you breathless. Two fingers pinch your erect nipple, coaxing more needy sounds from you and a low, appreciative moan on her part.

Her thumbs roll your nipples in tight circles, occasionally twisting this way and that to draw a whimper out of you, and she reluctantly separates from your lips to allow you to catch your breath. Her own chest heaves as she looks down at you, at your bruised lips and hard nipples under the pads of her fingers, arousal pooling in her belly. She is the only one privy to the sharp gasps you make, to your soft moans and quiet whimpers. Black Swan fills the void inside of you with her lustful and unrelenting touches, claiming you with her hot mouth and nimble hands. She leaves an imprint on your body with every kiss to your skin, every graze of her teeth or nails across your chest. You feel your arousal ruin your underwear, clit aching to be touched. You bring Black Swan’s mouth to yours with a hand around her neck, lips locking in desperate, messy kisses. Her hums of pleasure only turn you on more and you have to squeeze your thighs together to try and relieve the pressure between your legs.

A thin string of saliva connects your lips as she pulls away to press the flat of her tongue over your nipple. The tip teases your sensitive bud before she takes it into her mouth and sucks, hard and fast. She fondles the other breast, twisting your nipple between two warm fingers, and you can’t help a choked moan at the feeling. Pleasure courses through you in short, intense jolts down your spine, and your cunt throbs in your panties, begging for her attention.

“B-Black Swan,” you breathe out, biting your lip when she hums in satisfaction around your nipple. Her teeth graze the bud teasingly but she doesn’t bite, instead she opts for long suckles and the occasional flicks of her tongue. “Please…”

Her mouth leaves your chest and stretches into a smug smile, desire apparent in the way she gazes at the faint marks she’s left on your skin.

“What are you pleading for, darling?”

You forego timidity to focus on the burning need in your belly. Your fingers curl around her wrist and guide her hand down your stomach, over the band of your shorts. Her eyes narrow though the smile doesn’t leave her face as she lets you slip her fingers into your shorts. Her middle finger sinks between your outer lips over your panties and feels your slick through the thin fabric. You hold onto her wrist to keep her hand over your covered sex, sighing in relief.

“How rude of me,” she says lightly, finger running up and down your slit, “to neglect you like this. I was caught up in my own desire, it seems.”

Black Swan settles between your thighs. Her lips leisurely trail wet kisses down the curve of your stomach and her pussy flutters in response to the whimper that comes out of your mouth. She’s so wet already and all she’s done is kiss you. Her gaze is intense as she looks up at your brows furrowed in anticipation of her tongue on your cunt. How stunningly helpless you look under her ministrations. So sensitive, so responsive… she wants to ruin you, devour you until your thighs tremble pressed to her ears and your throat is sore from crying out her name. It sounds beautiful in your voice, even more so with unashamed desire lacing your words.

Black Swan discards your shorts without ceremony, tossing them on the floor next to the bed. Her tongue swipes over her lips at the sight of your wet panties. Her fingertips trace the edge of the material, hooking under it to watch the sticky string that connects it to your cunt as she pulls it away from you. Part of her wants to take her time ravishing you, she’s waiting this long, after all, but she also desperately wants to indulge her desires. How can she resist when you’re panting under her this way, a hand around your own breast and gazing down at her figure between your thighs?

Her hands fondle the flesh of your inner thighs, lost in the sight of your glistening cunt. Arousal slides down your pussy in slow drops, the tip of your pretty, aching clit poking out from between your lips. She almost wants to curse.

“You have no idea how long I’ve craved to have you bare before me like this,” she purrs, two fingers spreading your lips to fully appreciate your cunt, “how much I’ve wanted you.”

You exhale shakily, brows twisting for a second. “We just met…”

“Officially, perhaps.” Black Swan presses a kiss on your wet folds, tongue licking a stripe up your slit and collecting your slick. You moan, eyes squeezing shut. The taste of you makes her greedy and she has to contain herself not to lick you silly. “I’ve had my eye on you for quite a while…”

Your brain barely registers the words. Your thighs threaten to close in around her head with every flick of her tongue against your needy cunt. You pinch a nipple between your fingers as Black Swan places wet, open-mouthed kisses on your pussy and you almost forget to reply to her statement.

“What— What do you mean?” You ask breathily, hips jerking forward further into her mouth.

She laughs softly at your confused tone. Her fingers keep your lips spread wide to allow the flat of her tongue to collect more of your arousal. She feels your thighs on her ears and makes no move to stop you from squeezing them together.

“What do you think? Memokeepers are rarely eager to show themselves, and this pull I feel towards you… I had to understand it.”

You don’t know what to say. She’s admitting to stalking you while in between your thighs, tongue greedily swirling around your slick folds. She feels so good that you can’t focus on anything but the way she spreads her saliva on your pussy and swallows your arousal. You vaguely recall that this is the thirst she meant earlier, this bottomless need for more of your taste coating her lips and chin as the tip of her nose bumps against your throbbing clit.

You have trouble forming full sentences in your mind when she sucks your folds into her mouth and you don’t even care about the invasion of your privacy.

“You…” A finger teases your entrance and you whine, momentarily forgetting what you meant to say. “You’ve been following me.”

“Mmm…” Black Swan tentatively pushes the tip of her index finger into your cunt and swallows a moan as it effortlessly sinks inside you. “I needed to know who you were, what makes you tick, your unspoken desires. And after observing you for so long, committing your every heavy sigh to my memory, I could not resist meeting you myself— to touch you with my own hands and hear my name fall from your lips the way curses escape you on the brink of pleasure.”

You bring a hand to your mouth to muffle a moan, the tip of her finger brushing against a sensitive spot inside you. Her pace is steady, careful not to overwhelm you too fast or too soon, and it takes you two full minutes to understand what she’s implying. She takes your clit between her lips and sucks, long and hard.

“F-Fuck,” you whine, hips jerking forward in need. You feel your orgasm build in your lower belly and grip a fistful of the sheets under you, grinding your pussy against Black Swan’s experienced tongue. “You’ve— You’ve watched me… watched me touch myself?”

A throaty chuckle leaves her like she’s amused by how hard you’re trying to follow her sentences. She pulls away from your puffy clit for only a moment, looking up at you with unbridled desire. She drinks in the quiver of your bottom lip and the creases around your eyes, your parted lips and your hand palming the flesh of your breast. You are as beautiful under her as she imagined you to be when she would take a look around your empty bedroom, piecing together the puzzle of you with the help of your possessions.

Black Swan quickens the thrusts inside you, feeling her own cunt clench inside her shorts at the sensation of your warm walls around her digit. “How could I not? The way you fall apart under your own hands… your quiet moans as you play with yourself, oh…”

She moans into your cunt and you feel yourself gush into her mouth at the thought of her gaze on you all this time, watching you pleasure yourself and having to restrain herself from touching you, quietly suffering while she ruins her underwear. You wish you could have seen her and you wonder if she squeezed her thighs together as you played with your clit or sucked in a breath as you thumbed your nipple. She’s usually so composed, to think that your bare body can bring her to the edge of her self-control makes you so wet you’re sure you’re ruining your sheets.

“I can be a very patient person. I’ve had to restrain myself all this time, to be content simply watching you.” Black Swan circles your clit with her thumb, applying pressure on the tip as her slender finger drills into you the same way you do it when you touch yourself. The pleasure is too much and has you moaning into your forearm, uselessly trying to contain the noise due to living in an apartment building. “And… I think I deserve a reward for my patience, don’t you agree, darling?”

There’s a tightness in your stomach begging to snap; the pad of her thumb presses against your clit and the jolts of pleasure that course from your cunt to the rest of your body is heavenly, you’ve never felt more desired than with Black Swan’s uneven breaths fanning over your pussy, tongue darting out to taste you in soft, sweet kitten licks. You can’t control the tremble in your thighs and the stutter of your chest, or the hand that tangles into her pale hair to pull her closer to where you ache for her. Broken, high moans fill the room along with the wet sounds of her digit inside of you and her lips around your clit. You can’t think of anything but the pleasure that suddenly crashes over you and makes you shiver. You come hard around her finger and on her tongue, thighs squeezing against her ears and fingers tightly gripping her hair, and Black Swan laps up your cum with a rumbling hum of satisfaction. She helps you ride your orgasm by slowly massaging your walls, but her mouth doesn’t leave your cunt even as your high subsides. She licks long stripes up your slit, teases the base of your sensitive clit, then attaches her lips to your gushing entrance.

“S-Swan…” you manage to utter, back arching.

Black Swan inhales sharply at the soft sigh of her name. Her hands fondle the flesh of your inner thighs and spread them wide, keeping them pinned to the mattress. Her colorful eyes have dulled, the shine of your cum on her lips alike the lipgloss she’d applied earlier tonight. Her gaze is hungry and smug at having you shake for her, at being the first to make you come, to hear the mewls spilling from your open mouth. The thin layer of sweat on your skin gives it an intoxicating glow and she can’t resist dragging two fingers between your folds to watch your slick envelop her digits.

“You are a vision,” she drawls, unhurriedly rubbing your sensitive cunt. “Beautiful and so, so responsive to my touch…”

The pad of her thumb presses against your twitching clit and your hips jerk as you whimper, helpless under her. Black Swan hums appreciatively and gives you some reprieve, hovering over you to plant a tender kiss to your jaw. Your fingers grip the back of her neck to pull her body closer and the friction of your hard nipples on the fabric of her clothes makes you exhale audibly. She uses sticky fingers to tilt your chin upwards. Your lips part almost instantly to welcome her hot, wet mouth. It’s a softer kiss than the urgent ones from before, her lips slowly slide against yours and you feel her breath in your mouth, her firm tongue swiping over your bottom lip. Your arm sneaks around her waist, pulling her body flush on yours, earning another long hum from her. Her weight on you is a delight as she leads the pace of your mouths and your heart constricts as if squeezed between loving fingers. This is intimacy, you realize; Black Swan’s thigh between your legs and her wet digits under your chin, her tongue past your lips and the warmth of her skin on yours. You feel breathless in an entirely new way.

The ache of your pussy dulls to a soft pulse, your hands run down her sides to squeeze her waist and you’re suddenly hungry for everything she has to offer. You rub circles into her pliable flesh, your touch growing insistent as you keep her pressed against you. Black Swan moans low into your mouth when your palms slide down her body to grasp her ass. Her breathing is a touch heavier against your lips and you prop up the thigh between her legs, drawing an exquisite gasp from her.

“Need you…” you mumble, fingers slipping under top to pull at the mesh of her bodysuit over her back. It slaps her skin when you let go and the needy sound that leaves her almost makes you moan. “Off.”

“Demanding…” Black Swan sits up, lavender hair cascading down her back, and grips the material of her purple top from the bottom to pull it over her head in one smooth movement.

Your pupils dilate considerably at the sight of the intricate lace of her bra. She leans forward to capture your mouth in an eager kiss. You run your hands up her stomach and fondle her heavy breasts between your palms, enjoying their plushness. Your fingers tug on the cup of her bra to free one of them and you whine in the middle of the kiss at the feel of her hard nipple under your thumb. Black Swan leans into your touch with a quiet sigh. You harshly twist her nipple for the surprised moan that escapes her. Pulling her tight bodysuit down her waist only takes a few seconds and your hands greedily take fistfuls of her breasts and squeeze once, then twice, as your mouth chases hers, her tongue wetting your lips in a sloppy, hurried kiss.

Black Swan helps you pull her clothes past her hips and takes the rest off herself, revealing the creamy skin of her plump thighs and the dark lace of her underwear. Slick clings to the fabric in a thick, sticky string when she slides it off her legs to discard it on the floor. Two of your fingers run down her cunt, grazing her engorged clit, and she lets out a breathy moan, resting her forearms on each side of your head to support her body. She’s incredibly wet, so ready for your touch between her folds. Her entrance gushes with another wave of arousal, breath heavy, as the tip of your index teases her hole. Her forehead rests on yours, the tip of your noses brushing. You nuzzle into her at the same moment you push a finger inside her throbbing pussy, tentatively thrusting into her to feel the warmth of her walls before slipping a second digit into her.

Black Swan squeezes her eyes shut with a needy moan against your lips and her cunt clenches tight around your fingers. The slight stretch of her pussy brings her considerable relief; it’s not long before her hips follow the pace of your thrusts inside her. Her breasts move with the rest of her body, baby pink nipples grazing your chest with every roll of her hips. Her breath is hot on your face and she stutters out soft gasps as you quicken your pace, drunk on the feeling of her cunt sucking in your fingers like she never wants to let you go.

“Yes—” she gasps against your mouth, “You feel so good…”

You plunge into her up to the knuckles, determined to have her gush over your hand. Your name is a half moan past her lips and her brows twist in pleasure, the filthy, wet sound of your digits drilling into her fluttering pussy filling your bedroom in an intoxicating melody. A quiver goes through her thighs. Black Swan lifts one hand from the bed to bring it between her legs and swipe her aching clit in tight circles, low oh’s and ah’s spilling from her mouth. Together, you bring her closer to the edge. You masturbate her the way you know how, the way she’s watched you do to yourself so many times, fingers curling inside her and making her see explosions of colors behind her eyelids. She’s tempted to curse, her who never does, and she feels the coil in her belly snap as white hot pleasure washes over her. Her hand stutters on her clit and she comes around your fingers with a sharp moan, squeezing them tight and forcing you to slow down your pace, her limbs trembling over you. Her orgasm is intense, she shivers from head to toe and struggles to keep herself above you, chest leaning into yours.

Black Swan barely has a moment to catch her breath as you slip out of her and rub comforting shapes into her love handles with one hand while bringing her wrist up to your face. You take her fingers into your mouth and her eyes blink open at the sensation of your tongue swirling around her digits, sucking her clean. She gazes down at you, lips parted.

“Swan…” you breathe out around her fingers, the hint of a whimper in your words. “Want you on my face.”

Black Swan applies pressure on your tongue, making you moan. “Is that right?” Her voice is low and throaty, each word carefully enunciated despite her heavy breathing.

You nod eagerly, squeezing the dip of her hip. The thought of her plush thighs around your head, trapping you between their soft flesh as she grinds her cunt on your tongue makes your head spin. You want to bury your nose in her slick folds and have her come in your mouth until she’s too sensitive to handle your ministrations. Black Swan hums, a fondness in her lidded eyes as she takes her fingers out of your mouth. They leave a wet trail on your skin when they cup your cheek.

“So eager to please,” she says softly to herself, thumb tracing the curve of your top lip. “Alright.”

Like she was ever going to say no to the needy look in your gaze; you look up at her with twinkling admiration and she feels herself pulled to you once more.

Black Swan positions herself over your face, thick thighs on each side of your head, and your arms wrap around them to pull her closer. Her pussy glistens, puffy and pink, as she gently tangles her hand in your hair and the sight is breathtaking. The short hairs on her cunt are only slightly darker than the ones on her head, they shine with her slick and entice you further into her folds. Your tongue darts out to lick a stripe up her slit, delighting in the soft hum that follows the gesture. You’ve never done this before, but you try your best to apply theory to practice, rubbing the flat of your tongue on her cunt and collecting her tangy cum. The grip on your hair pushes you closer to her wet pussy, but she’s careful not to be too harsh.

“Just like that,” her quiet, breathy moans encourage you as you suck her pulsing clit. The drawl of her words sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your pussy. “You’re a quick learner, aren’t you?”

The taste of her fills your mouth, the smell of her arousal takes over your nose as it coats the tip of it, you can feel her all around and it makes you moan into her throbbing cunt. The vibrations reverberate through her pussy, pulling another long moan of your name out of her lips. She’s sensitive from her previous orgasm, already twitching against your tongue, yet her hips rolls into your mouth to chase release a second time. You stare up at her head thrown backwards in blind pleasure, at the sheen of her lips and the movement of her breasts, nipples like pretty pebbles on her chest. Sweat clings to her brows and dampens the bangs framing her cheeks. She’s a painting above you, one that you can’t tear your eyes from.

“You’re so pretty, Swan…” you mutter into her pussy, flicking your tongue on her clit, and she almost melts at the compliment.

Her hips grind into your face as she feels herself getting closer to release, gripping your hair a bit tighter to keep your mouth on her cunt.

“Oh…” Black Swan moans, two fingers closing around her nipple to pinch it softly. Her cum drips down your chin and her eyes shut in bliss.

Her orgasm comes embarrassingly fast— after having to rely for so long solely on the thoughts of you as she touched herself, hearing your muffled sounds into her pussy is enough to bring her to the brink. You’re enthusiastic, licking up her slit and between her folds, sucking her clit hard and fast, and she can’t resist bucking into your mouth as she comes on your tongue. Her body trembles and you welcome the gush of her cum in your mouth with a pleased moan, eagerly lapping up her release. Your hands tighten their hold on her thighs, keeping her flush against you while she rides her high, slightly leaning forward. Her clit twitches, her cunt throbs and she can’t believe how wet she is, cum staining her thighs and the bottom of your face.

You don’t let her pull away, gripping her tighter when her hips jerk away from your mouth, and she gasps out, the feel of your tongue pushing into her entrance quickly overwhelming her.

“Aeons—“ A moan breaks her sentence and the words get stuck in her throat as you wriggle your tongue inside her to swallow more of her cum.

Her thighs shake around your head and her eyes almost roll back into her skull at your desperate need to draw more of her needy sighs and throaty moans. Your open mouth won’t leave her pussy, sucking her lips, nose grazing her sensitive clit. Black Swan makes a pretty mess on your face and her hips greedily grind into you despite the overwhelming sensations, clutching the headboard in a tight grip.

She breathes out your name, eyes shut and brows twisting in pleasure, “Ah… Mmh—!”

You wrap your lips around her clit and suck, making her choke out a strangled moan as the hand in your hair attempts to pull you from her pussy.

“T-Too sensitive…”

Black Swan sees stars behind her eyelids, a broken whine in her throat when you relent slightly and opt to tease the base of her aching clit instead. Her stomach is so tight, orgasm rapidly approaching, and she can’t do anything but rub her cunt desperately onto the flat of your tongue. She needs to come so badly she forgets to take into account the fact that you’re having difficulty breathing with your nose in her pussy and her thighs around your head. There’s a throbbing in your skull not unlike a coming migraine, but you focus on making her feel so good her teeth sink into her bottom lip to muffle a needy cry.

With the tip of your tongue teasing her entrance, Black Swan comes hard and shakes above you as a drawn out moan of your name rips from her throat. You can’t breathe with how much she’s squeezing your head, you have to tap her thigh a couple times to get her attention and she finds the strength to pull herself from you, a tremble in her legs. You’re both panting heavily when she collapses on the bed beside you, catching your breath as the throb of your skull slowly subsides. Black Swan has the back of a hand on her eyes and you can see the quiver that runs through her with the aftershocks of her orgasm.

You bury your face in her chest and she sighs in satisfaction, absentmindedly stroking your hair as you press soft kisses to her breast.

“Was that okay?” You murmur into her skin, rubbing her waist.

Black Swan laughs, disbelief sending ripples through her abdomen. She tilts your head to face her and gazes down at you with a mix of endearment and amusement.

“It was more than okay, trust me.”

Her hand pulls you to gently kiss your lips, tasting herself on your mouth. You’re putty against her and she has no difficulty flipping you over so that your head rests on your pillows. A thumb swipes over your jawline when she separates her lips from yours. You watch the sun rise in her eyes.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, mmh?”

[starleska]

Youth Is Wasted on the Young - Mad Mod x Reader

Following the events of Revolution, Mad Mod finds himself stranded alone in the centre of Jump City with no way to escape. It isn't until he runs into You - a clever fan who knows just how to get him out unseen - that Mad Mod's life takes an unexpected turn... rating: mature. tags: age gap, mutual pining, internalised ageism, holograms, flirting, threats, romance, fear, bargaining, stalking, yandere, surveillance, obsessive behaviour, technology, fluff, copious Britishisms, and teasing.  this fic is inspired by this wonderful art by @blackthewolf17​ 😉 i hope you all enjoy!!

Mad Mod's surveillance system is a marvel of engineering.

Years of designing and equipping his robots with nearly-undetectable surveillance equipment gives Mad Mod not just a bird's eye view of Jump City, but a civilian's view as well. His cameras pepper every building ledge, every street corner, and every statue. There isn’t a corner of the city that he can’t see... ...and the best part is that no one has a clue. Mad Mod slumps back in his recliner, struggling to keep his eyes open. Here in his 'control centre', Mad Mod is surrounded by a litany of screens, with a single, enormous screen dominating the room. Upon each scream a variety of people zooms past: an older woman crossing the street; a young gentleman tapping away at a laptop. A conveyor belt of familiar and unfamiliar faces blink in and out of existence as Mad Mod cycles through, looking for something, anything that might be different. These are not people Mad Mod knows by name: just your run-of-the-mill citizens going about their days with zero idea they're being watched. Bloody ingrates, Mad Mod thinks. Not a lick of manners in the lot of 'em. Lazily, Mad Mod flicks between channels on his remote with a click, click, click. With each push of a button, one of the screens flips to a different channel. Nothing seizes his attention. Since his failed attempt to erase the American Revolution from history and take his place as the rightful king of Jump City, Mad Mod has laid low, taking in the workings of the populace and trying to formulate a new, grand-scale plan. Click. Click. Twinge. Mad Mod hisses and shifts uncomfortably. Despite the youth he'd managed to steal for the day, his lower back aches with all the ferocity of his older spine. Mad Mod could add as many years as he liked, but his body knows that these young luxuries are borrowed. Click. Click. Cli- Mad Mod bolts upright in his chair. It's you. Quick as a flash, Mad Mod slams the pause button on his remote and then presses a couple more. You flare up onto the large screen—a view through a window and from the waist up. There’s nothing outwardly remarkable about you. It’s late, and you’re reaching to close the curtains of your apartment. You’re dressed comfortably, your hair is a little tousled, and you’re clutching a cup of coffee in your hand. Mad Mod leans as far forward as he can without toppling out of his chair. His eyes scan you hungrily, drinking in every detail of your form. He bites his lip, feeling his heart thrumming horribly in his chest. A scalding flush works its way up his neck to settle in his cheeks. “You oughta close your curtains earlier, love,” Mad Mod whispers. Mad Mod stands on shaky legs and approaches the screen. He stops mere inches away and looks up at your frozen image as if transfixed. Up close, he can make out the finer details of your face: a little half-smile makes your mouth crooked, and your eyes bear the strain of a tiring day. For a moment, Mad Mod reaches out a palm to touch the screen…but then draws it back as if he’s been burned. Get it together, old man. What are you doing? One chance encounter and you’re actin’ like a lovesick schoolboy. Mad Mod groans, running his hand over his face and back through his hair. He looks up at you, a vice squeezing around his heart, and then looks down at his own hands. They’re nice hands—long and delicate and well-manicured— but they’re fake, fake, fake . He’s a walking mirage: a sham of a man, wearing skin with elasticity that doesn’t belong to him. Everything from the hair on his head to his functional knees are from a bygone era. What would an angel like you want with a fraud like me? Every detail of your one and only real encounter is cemented into Mad Mod’s head, because he replays it every night before he goes to sleep: It was just after his humiliating defeat at the hands of those bratty Teen Titans. His empire was gone, his kingdom had collapsed, and even his precious ruby cane was broken, robbing him of his stolen youth. Mad Mod had run as fast his aged legs would carry him. Without the use of his cane Mad Mod was unable to truly alter his body, but he still kept some emergency tech on him for situations like this. He yanked a small device in the shape and colours of a British military roundel out of his pocket and pressed its central button. In seconds Mad Mod was enveloped by a hologram—the colour rushed back to his cheeks and hair, and his clothes morphed from stodgy cardigan to trim Union Jack suit. Yet the illusion wasn’t perfect: as he ran, Mad Mod’s real self glitched in and out through the hologram, showing flashes of his aged skin and balding scalp. It was nothing more than a parlour trick—a shimmering façade at least forty years out of date. But in this moment of desperation, Mad Mod could not bear to be himself. He needed to hold onto the dream just a little bit longer. Mad Mod twisted around a sharp corner. He slipped between the decaying remnants of his city-wide pop art illusion into an abandoned building, and he slammed the door shut. He dropped to the floor with his back against the door and sat there, fists clenched and trembling with rage. “Those blasted Teen Titans!” he growled. “When I get my hands on ‘em, I’m gonna…I’m gonna…” “Hello?” Mad Mod froze. The voice had come from the back of the room. Unsteadily, Mad Mod clambered to his feet and felt in his pockets for his Sheffield army knife. Whilst everyone had been under his control mere moments ago, the effects of his brainwashing would have worn off by now, making his former kingdom enemy territory. All the tech in the world wouldn’t stop an angry, unconsenting victim of hypnosis, as Mad Mod knew from experience. But the old man was ready to go down swinging. “Plannin’ a sneak attack, are we?” Mad Mod called, unfurling his knife. “Get out here and show yourself, you crafty sod!” There was a beat of silence…and then you stepped into the dim light. You held your hands aloft in a gesture of surrender. “Oh my God,” you said, breathless. “You’re Mad Mod!” Mad Mod adjusted his glasses to make sure he was seeing things correctly. He had been prepared for someone large and threatening—perhaps even one of those dastardly do-gooders that infested this good-for-nothing city. Instead, he saw a wide-eyed and unassuming adult, with soot dusting your cheeks and clothes. Your hair was tangled and your eyes looked sleepless. He felt a little pang of jealousy for the youth evident in your face. Mad Mod drew his knife and pointed it at you, blade-first. “Take one more step and I’ll ‘ave your guts for garters,” he spat. “Wait! I’m not going to hurt you.” You stepped a little closer to him, and Mad Mod could make out signs of wear and tear on your jumper. Doubtless you’d been caught in some kind of skirmish with his Buckingham Palace guards. Smugness overtook his desire to fight, and Mad Mod laughed in your face. “You? Hurt me? Ha!” he scoffed. “I could beat you with one arm tied behind my back.” “I’m sure you could,” you agreed. “I know what you’re capable of, Mad Mod. So there’s no point in you threatening me with a knife. You could do much worse.” Your words made Mad Mod pause. As a hypnotist, he always felt that he was a good judge of character, and he wanted to register your words as mockery. But when he looked into your eyes, Mad Mod saw no signs of deception: your praise was completely sincere. He stared at you, and weighed up his options. The Teen Titans were on his tail, he no longer had his cane, and the collapsing of his city-wide illusion meant there was nowhere else to go. He needed to retire to his mansion as quickly as possible, and activate all the security measures he could muster. Perhaps it would be best to make an ally. “Sorry about that, love,” said Mad Mod, folding his knife and tucking it back in his pocket. “That weren’t becoming of a gentleman. My day’s gone a bit to pot.” “Yeah,” you agreed. “Sorry about that. I saw the whole thing.” Mad Mod blinked. “Hold on a tick. You mean…you weren’t hypnotised?” You giggled nervously and shook your head. Mad Mod noticed you were bouncing on the balls of your feet. “I’ve known you were going to take over the city for weeks,” you said excitedly. “I wanted to make sure I had a front row seat…but when I caught wind of how big an operation your takeover was going to be, I realised I needed to protect myself. This building sits in a blind spot between all of your hypno-screens. Right here, I was able to watch everything without falling under your control.” Mad Mod gaped at you. A blind spot between his hypno-screens…it was unthinkable. How had you, a dishevelled nobody, managed to outsmart him? The mortification of the day settled into Mad Mod’s stomach, and he felt sick. Months of planning down the drain all because of a bunch of teenagers…and whoever the hell you were. “Well, well, well…you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, my duckie?” Mad Mod’s mouth twisted into a snarl. He advanced on you, pushing you further into the darkness. You cried out and tripped over something, stumbling backwards, but Mad Mod didn’t stop until your back collided with the far wall. He planted his arms on either side of your head, boxing you in. Your pupils blew wide and dark, and the sight of it gave Mad Mod an adrenaline rush like that of a young man. “Think you’re quite the clever-clogs, don’t you?” Mad Mod hissed. “But that won’t last. You’re causin’ me an awful lot of trouble, you know? A glitch in my system is nothin’ to sniff at…much less when ferreted out by a little muppet like you. What were you hopin’ for, eh? Blackmail? Sabotage? You could well ‘ave been the bastard that tipped off those wretched Teen Titans. Workin’ with them to take ol’ Moddy down, were you?” “No, no, no!” You gasped. “I swear, I would never do anything to get in the way of your plans. All I wanted was to see it all happen and remember it. You have to believe me!” “Tellin’ porkies won’t save you, love,” Mad Mod breathed. “It won’t even get you a trial. When I’m done with you, you’ll be lucky if you remember your own name. Why…” Mad Mod bared his crooked teeth. “...I oughta kill you." The two of you stood like that for some time: one of you seething with barely-contained rage, and the other struggling to breathe from the proximity. Mad Mod clenched and unclenched his fists, wanting, needing to do something, but found himself stuck. “Say,” said Mad Mod slowly. “...How come you aren’t afraid?” “What?” you said. “Oh, I am. Very afraid right now.” “Yeah, o’course, but. Not properly.” Mad Mod took a few steps back. He narrowed his eyes at you, before letting a little squarish device on a chain fall out of his sleeve. A thin white light shot from the device and scanned you, before zipping back into the square. Mad Mod read the display which the display up before him aloud: “Increased heart rate. Heightened body temperature. All signs of any frightened little bugger, and yet…” You weren’t afraid of him. So what the devil was wrong with— Mad Mod’s eyes widened with realisation. You were attracted to him. For a moment, Mad Mod was confused. You were young, and quite easy on the eyes—a thought he’d squashed into the back of his brain before it could cause any damage. What you would want with a man of his age baffled him…until he glanced at his hands and saw smooth, youthful skin. In his confusion, he’d forgotten about the hologram— as well as the effect his younger visage had on others. As long as he didn’t move too quickly, the illusion would hold: to this interloper, he would still look like his young self. That fact gave him a boost of confidence: old man Mad Mod couldn’t get what he needed from this strange, clever person, but the Mad Mod he was inside—the twenty-odd, mischievous, charming Mad Mod—could put his image to good use. Giving his best devil-may-care smile, Mad Mod re-approached his mark with a little sway in his hips. The absence of his cane meant he couldn’t swing with quite the flair he preferred, but he still knew how to off-set someone’s expectations. “Why, I’m flattered, dearie,” said Mad Mod with a toothy grin. “I didn’t realise you fancied me.” You’d shrunk back against the wall, and your hands covered your face. You peeked out from between your fingers, eyes wide in mortification. The sight filled Mad Mod with a perverse kind of glee. He loved nothing more than playing with his victims, and he was going to make you, brainy little toerag that you were, squirm. “What is it about me, then? Is it the suit? The hair? It can’t possibly be the teeth.” Mad Mod laughed and leaned in, stooping to try and force eye contact. “Or perhaps it’s the talent. Maybe you’d like to be hypnotised, eh? Have all that pesky control taken away from you? I know a couple minutes with my hypno-screens would have you ever so relaxed.” You squeaked, and Mad Mod’s grin stretched even wider. What an adorable sound—he was rather starting to enjoy the attention. Slowly, taking care not to disrupt his hologram, Mad Mod took hold of your hands and lowered them away from your face. Heat was radiating from your palms, but your eyes—so wide and innocent—gazed up at him with unspoken expectation. “Y-you’re a very handsome man, sir,” you stammered. “But I started following your schemes because of your work. The scale of your inventions is amazing. You’re…you’re quite brilliant.” “Cheeky,” Mad Mod admonished, feeling a pleasurable heat rising in his cheeks. “You’re not too bad yourself, love. Still, I ought not to encourage you…” Mad Mod leaned in closer, and relished in how you tried to make yourself as small as possible. “You could be one of them groupie sorts,” he said. “Utterly obsessed with me. Posters on your bedroom walls, little messages scrawled with love hearts. Why, you modern fans usually have back-to-back images of your sweethearts stored on your phones. But you’re not like that, are you, pet?” You stared at Mad Mod like he’d just read aloud the pages of your diary. He chuckled, and bent down to speak into your ear: “All I need is a clear way out of view of the Teen Titans,” said Mad Mod. “Get me outta Jump City and to the water’s edge, and I’ll give the teasin’ a rest.” Mad Mod felt the shudder that went through your body: he was close enough for his lips to ghost your earlobe. “Deal,” you whispered. And the deal was honoured. It took the two of you less than fifteen minutes to leave the building and clear the closely-nestled buildings of central Jump City on foot. You’d brought a crudely-drawn paper map, which you used to sneak between alleys and shadowed doorways, always out of sight of CCTV. Mad Mod managed to keep up with you, still being light on his feet. There were a few close moments when you saw a purple shadow flit overheard, and when you heard the telltale sound of a Sonic Cannon, but in no time at all the two of you stood on the beach, overlooking the Mad Mansion fortress sticking up absurdly out of the sea. Mad Mod cleared a space in the sand with his foot. A small circle unearthed itself, and up rose a custom-built elevator tube, connected to an underwater transportation system which would lead Mad Mod right back to his home. The Teen Titans would know where he was, but they wouldn’t be able to get past his security system. “Thanks for all your help, dearie,” said Mad Mod, tipping an imaginary hat to you. “That’s quite enough excitement for one day. It pains me to say it, but I may not have escaped unscathed if it weren’t for your know-how.” A lovely smile lit up your face. “Thank you, sir,” you said, glee evident in your voice. “The pleasure is all mine.” Mad Mod pressed a button to open the door on his elevator, and made to step in—but he hesitated. He looked back at you, and took in the wistful delight on your face. It really was thanks to you that he was able to get here in one piece…and he’d had quite a lot of fun doing it. In a strange way, you’d grown on him…and Mad Mod was nothing if not a gentleman. Perhaps you deserve a little reward. In a few short steps, Mad Mod crossed the sand and stood close to you. When you tried to take a step back, he reached out and steadied you by the elbow. “Flattery will get you everywhere, duckie,” Mad Mod whispered…and he leaned in to kiss your cheek. You yelped and stumbled backwards, losing your balance in the sand. Mad Mod tried to catch you, but you reached out and grabbed first—and your hand yanked out something from his pocket. You collapsed into the sand and brought Mad Mod tumbling down with you, leaving the two of you in a tangled mess of limbs. Something crunched. “Oof,” said Mad Mod, who’d fallen with a soft whump onto his hip. “You’re the ungainly sort, my dear. Good thing about the soft landing, eh?” You sat up, shook the sand from your hair—and then your mouth dropped open. “...What?” Mad Mod blinked. You kept staring. “Are you ‘avin’ some sort of episode, love?” asked Mad Mod, frustrated. He reached out to try and touch your shoulder— —and then he saw his hands. His old, wrinkled hands. “Gah!” Mad Mod sprung to his feet and looked down at his body. His fancy suit was gone, replaced by the dreary old cardigan and dark, sensible trousers. He reached up to touch his hair, and felt the sickening familiarity of his bald spot and its accompanying liver-spotted skin. Desperately, Mad Mod felt in his pocket for his hologramatic remote—and came up with nothing. It was then that he spotted the plasticky remnants of the remote pressed into the sand. The impact of the two of you falling had broken the remote, and taken his youthful illusion with it. Mad Mod looked back at you. You were still staring, open-mouthed. A cold rush of shame and anguish doused Mad Mod’s insides. He needed to get out. As fast as he could run through the sand, Mad Mod made a beeline for his elevator. You struggled to your feet and tried to chase after him, but the clear door slammed shut before you could get in. “Wait, don’t go!” You yelled through the glass. Mad Mod smiled at you sadly. “I’m sorry for the deception, my duckie,” he said. “You take care, now.” He pressed a button…and the elevator fell through the sand. That was two months ago. The night after his failed revolution, Mad Mod couldn’t sleep: he tossed and turned in bed, half-formed images of his stunted kingdom and you mingling together into malformed nightmares. He woke up drenched in sweat, and didn’t even have the comfort of his fake self to hang onto: it was too dangerous to find someone younger and drain their youth with the Teen Titans still looking for him. For the three days it took for Mad Mod to rebuild his hologramatic projector, he avoided all reflective surfaces and showered in the dark. There was one thing that he studied meticulously, however. In your awkward embrace in the sand, Mad Mod had accidentally snagged the paper map you’d drawn to help him out of the city. Although rudimentary, the map showed Mad Mod the locations of all the security cameras in Jump City, as well as all of their blind spots. Brilliant, really. This allowed him to hack into the existing cameras and set up his own, setting his watchful eyes over every possible angle in the entire city. Mad Mod told himself this was so he could reinstate himself as rightful king… …but instead, he found your apartment within 12 hours. He knew it was wrong. But Mad Mod had gotten good at talking himself out of not doing bad things, and he rationalised his watching you coming and going from your home as him protecting you. Because you’d helped him to escape, you’d aided and abetted a known criminal, and could be harangued by those damned Teen Titans at any moment. Of course, that never happened. Days turned into weeks, and Mad Mod found himself becoming familiar with your normal routine. He watched you open your curtains every morning and stretch like a cat, taking in those precious early rays of sunlight. He watched you depart for work, and followed your progress with alternating cameras until he was sure you’d reached your workplace. He watched you select and pay for your groceries, and struggle with your bags while trying to open your front door. He watched you close your curtains at night, blocking his view. He watched you on the night you forgot to close your curtains, too. Now, back in the present, Mad Mod moans in frustration and throws himself back into his chair, covering his face. What is wrong with him! All this time, and he’s scarcely worked on anything to do with his evil plans. You’ve done something to his head, something far more powerful and insidious than his hypno-screens could accomplish. You’ve made him care about you. Mad Mod clicks a couple more buttons on his remote control. All of the other feeds vanish, only to be replaced with more images of you: some still frames, and others loops of video, all from different angles and locations and dates. It’s a cornucopia of you, plucked from a harvest of thousands of hours of video. Eventually, his eyes drift back to the newest image of you, frozen whilst closing your curtains. The little smile on your face makes Mad Mod smile too. It’s an infectious sort of cheer that you have. Mad Mod wishes he could have spent more time appreciating that warmth. For a moment, Mad Mod imagines being there with you. Coming up behind you and slipping his arms around your waist. Laughing into the soft skin of your neck and nibbling playfully on your earlobe. Slipping into your bed and pulling you in after, letting your arms and legs tangle up in one another again just like they did at the beach. He imagines getting lost in your beautiful eyes, and drifting off into a worriless sleep with you curled up against him. Twinge. Mad Mod’s spine protests at the unnatural angle of his chair, and jolts him out of his fantasy. Of course, these thoughts were inappropriate. His behaviour was too. But Mad Mod couldn’t bring himself to delete his collection. He looks up at the newest image of you again, and a painful, boyish blush spreads across his cheeks. What they don’t know won’t hurt them. Mad Mod averts his eyes, and tucks his remote control up into his chest. “Goodnight, my duckie,” says Mad Mod quietly. He switches off the video feeds and sits, alone, in the darkness. “Sweet dreams.”

[lexa-ocean]

So I heard something abt TMNT Iteration Thursday? 🐢

❗️ More info under cut❗️

I've been thinking about this iteration for a couple of months now, and decided to go up ahead and do some design sheets for my turtles in it!! (Man I haven't done ref sheets in so long fr)

This iteration doesn't really have a name yet, but I'm thinking of calling it Reptile Power (you'll see why shortly)

Story:

TCRI was nothing short of a shady company, despite a couple of buildings all over the city, no one could tell you what exactly is it that they did. Information online was scarce, and was mostly focused on its CEO, Cynthia Utrom.

She was charismatic enough to the press, but in reality, she hid a secret: She had created (or so she claimed) a chemical known as Mutagen, which she said that, if perfect enough, could create a perfect army of Mutants, creatures that were between animal and human. After numerous failed attempts, the first succesful mutant was made... a rat, who eventually became known as Splinter.

Initially, the mutant rat was aggresive to every TCRI employee who approached. That was changed thanks to the unintentional efforts of a single man: Yoshi Hamato, the leader of a japanese clan who had decided to retire of the ninjutsu lifestyle to pursue his dreams of becoming a psychologist. Initially brought in with falsities about how Splinter came to be, his gentle nature broke through the rat, who came the see Yoshi as a parental figure. However, TCRI is a cruel place, and they needed to make a weapon out of Splinter, and any future mutant. With threats to himself and his family, Yoshi was forced to stay in TCRI and train Splinter (as well as a few other mutants...) in the martial arts. Little did TCRI know, while this was happening, Yoshi was planning and escape.

Originally enviosioned to be for all mutants, a training mission gone wrong meant that only Splinter could go escape with Yoshi. However, while in the last stages of their plan, the duo found out that Cynthia had developed new versions of the Mutagen, using DNA of different reptiles, and injecting it into turtle eggs. Unwilling to leave these new mutants behind, Yoshi and Splinter picked them up as they escaped...

However, nothing is ever quite that simple, and in the end, only Splinter and the four mutated turtle eggs managed to escape...

15 years later, the mutant turtles are talented ninja living a fairly calm life, not knowing just how quick that can, and will, change.

...This drawing is not as good but, here. Height chart:

[pomrania]

Here's my rendition of the rubkawat, from @maniculum's Bestiaryposting. I had a realization this week, which brought joy back into the activity for me: I don't have to actually draw a bird, just something that might possibly be described as a bird. I mean I eventually ended up with something that's either a bird or bird-adjacent, but early in the process I was going for, like, a feathered mustelid. I looked up zero dinosaurs for this; but I read Dinotopia a couple million times as a kid so I had some of that available in my head to use as reference.

First, the art choices that come from stuff in the description. I decided to work from the concept that no injury actually took place, so any reference to "blood" was in reality blood-coloured markings. Thus the red patch on the face of the adult, where they're supposedly struck, and juvenile plumage that looks like the chick is covered in blood. The red marking on the side of the adult, that's an instance of sexual dimorphism, and only the female has it; there's presumably also other colouration differences between sexes, but nothing that would seem "symbolic". The curved beak is because the only Egyptian bird I know about offhand is the ibis, and I wanted to at least gesture towards that.

Now, the art choices that are just from visual merit or personal preference. For colours, I started with the overall concept of "American goldfinch" (and also looked up zero reference for that), which is where I got the idea for black and white striped wings. The pale underside is something I just default to, apparently; hey it's not my fault that it looks nice, and also serves a practical purpose so it's found on all sorts of different creatures. The dark stripe on the side, right above the pale area, I think I got that from antelopes or gazelles (although I believe it's likewise found on a bunch of different animals). No real reasoning for the adult's pose beyond "this is the first one that actually worked out for me", but for the juvenile, I thought it'd be cute if it was trying to mimic its parent as much as possible. Speaking of the juvenile, the bald face wasn't originally intended; I was working on the final bits of the sketch for the finished piece when I thought "you know what, that might look cool".

You can find my progress thread here; it doesn't have any extra design info there, but it starts with my first messy design sketches, where I was just putting anything on the canvas to see what might work.

[kukuandkookie]

Might copy and paste the text here later from my Twitter thread where I expressed why I enjoyed it, but I recently read My Little Poplar and ended up liking Bai Xinyu and Yu Fengcheng quite a bit!

Yu Fengcheng’s eventual regret was honestly written really well, and the relationship between the two leads has good chemistry. 👌

Even better is that it features Jian Suiying, who I also have gotten weirdly attached to???

Like objectively the book Jian Suiying comes from, In Love With an Idiot, has its flaws. Or rather, it employs tropes that really aren’t for everyone, which includes the main couple fighting constantly (so it’s basically fighting and then fucking and then fighting and then fucking and you get the idea), and it gets kind of overdramatic at times, as some very angsty-type stories can be—whether they’re from China (known as “dog blood” stories) or not.

I even found it a little silly that so many were so obsessed with Jian Suiying, and yet…

Here I am now, sliiiightly obsessed with him. 🤡😂

It’s just that! As I mentioned on my Twitter, he’s so unique for a shou/bottom/uke character!! Before he met Li Yu, he was always the top, and he’s sexually confident and pretty intelligent and ruthless and…well, temperamental. He does admittedly have a charm to him that works and I find it pretty amazing the author managed to predict that, since so many characters in her novels adore him BDMGIHSKD.

Even his red flags give him charm, because while he is problematic, the red flags make him an intriguing character. The author does a pretty good job at balancing the different aspects of him that make him technically infuriating and yet also compelling.

His charm is further boosted by the fact there’s actually a clip of one of his VAs just trying to cheer you up if you’re sad?? Like hello??? 🥺

It is no longer a surprise to me that Li Yu ended up so obsessed with Jian Suiying. 😆

Also I’ll note now the last image is actually by the My Little Poplar manhua artist while the others are from the manhua adaptation of Jian Suiying’s own novel! I like how the manhua artist draws him quite a bit since it feels so him. I’ve seen fan art and they sometimes feature him smaller and thus not domineering enough, even though they usually show him with the same hairstyle—which makes for a fun tangent on its own since danmei designs can be a bit “basic,” so when one specific design becomes a recognizable look for a character, I find it pretty cool.

In fact, one of my favourite details in My Little Poplar was watching Yu Fengcheng be very frustrated with how much Bai Xinyu looked up to Jian Suiying. 🤭

Also just seeing him show up always made me go “yay!” because it’s so fun getting to see him again, especially as part of his story aligns with My Little Poplar (as in the plots of both novels happen somewhat concurrently).

Similarly, the manhua adaptation, My Beloved Fool, has a really nice art style and I really like that the artist always lets Jian Suiying shine by really dressing him up. He and Shi Qi from Trap a Vicious Dog (another series I want to ramble about on why I’m enjoying it so far) are two manhua protagonists I know of who are like…confident smart corporate bosses that get stylish fits almost every manhua chapter, which is a nice detail ahaha.

My Beloved Fool has recently hit the heavy angst section of the novel so it’ll be depressing to follow for a while since you’ll just watch Li Yu fall apart as Jian Suiying suffers absolute hell. 😔

Someone even uploaded the first season of the vomic version of the manhua on YouTube. 👀

Similarly, I’m really excited for the My Little Poplar manhua to get to all the good bits of the story there, since Bai Xinyu develops a lot as a character and I find Yu Fengcheng’s regret especially well done. But evidently it’ll take quite some time to get there; first we have to get past the military bullying alfndkfjjss.

Anyway the actual reason I started typing this out before I spiralled into another huge ramble asjakfl is that I found In Love With an Idiot and My Little Poplar audio dramas on YouTube!!

I’d heard some In Love With an Idiot audio clips from something that some fans had shared to YouTube before, but it sounds like those clips were from a completely different audio drama than the one I landed on. I’m especially excited about the My Little Poplar one. Even if it’s not extremely high quality (I think Bing Xing Xia Deng aka Inferior by Nature aka The Selfish Gene has admittedly spoiled me because it was so high quality 😆), it’s still fun hearing these characters come to life aurally.

Even more so since iirc I saw a Twitter post saying the My Little Poplar and In Love With an Idiot got taken down officially, so they may only be accessible via online reuploads right now. I can’t find the post to confirm, but if true, I’m glad someone preserved them. 🙏

Update: I did find the other version’s VAs of the In Love With an Idiot audio drama! Except it’s maybe a…sequel? Where a Li Yu of the past transmigrates 5 years into the future when Li Yu and Jian Suiying are a couple?? It’s on MaoEr FM…and it’s for free. 👁️

In fact, I could totally ramble about the Bing Xing Xia Deng audio drama—which I already have for a friend, so I can just copy and paste that long-ass (slightly more incoherent because it’s a lot of fangirling) wall of text here haha. I am currently very obsessed with that series too because it really is high quality and I like how it evolved the novel it’s adapting, but my friend is the expert on it so I feel a bit more shy about sharing my thoughts sometimes.

Welp that went on quite a number of tangents but yeah. I’ve enjoyed these novels and I’m very happy they got audio dramas and that they are still out there to be enjoyed after everything. 🥺💕

OH and final note but…the fun fact about the 188男团 aka 188 Group, which is the overall series Jian Suiying and Bai Xinyu belong to (so-called because it’s 10 novels that share a universe and all feature (scum) gongs of 188 cm) got sort of made into an “actual” 男团, aka a boy band/group! I found the couple (?) songs they released and some fan songs and it’s nice seeing them all “singing” together alfjskfjs.

An English translation can be found here!

An English translation can be found here!

Me when I spy Jian Suiying, Li Yu, Yu Fengcheng, and Bai Xinyu especially in the MVs: 🥺

[mildy-vibing]

So I spent some time cooking this up, and because the wonderful @owlygem 's Celestial Somebody comics had been living in my brain rent free.

I present a fan take on the Red Supergiant, Betelgeuse. If it's already been made and/or canon, then deepest apologies. This is a bit of a longer post going through my design choices and sketches that I've made when she was still in the "how do I draw this" phase

Design

Betelgeuse is one of the brightest stars in our night sky and one of the largest stars we have documented. However, she is one of the youngest stars (only a couple million years old). She is also one of the stars due to supernova soon (estimated within the next 100,000 years). So, I did the following.

- Designed her to look more 'tough', bulkier, wilder, spiked belts and cuffs.

- Deep dark red and orange color scheme for the red super giant (making a cohesive color pallete was unnecessarily difficult for me for some reason)

- Striped suit is just a reference to the movie Beetlejuice, literally nothing more. The suit is also kind of a skirt(?). Fighting between coat tails and a skirt so I chose the ruffled look it has now.

- Couldn't decide between a mowhawk or a long, unruly mess. The unruly mess won, and I regretted it immediately when I had to digitalize it with nothing more than my fingers as a stylus and IbisPaintX threatening to crash. Worth it.

- Crammed as many stars as I can in here. From the studs on the belt to the patches in the jeans.

- The first draft was originally more monstrous, yet it lacked much of a direction, so I scrapped it in favor of a more humanoid look.

Personality

Betelgeuse craves attention and company. She wants to be surrounded by others, yet being a wandering star doesn't help this. One of her primary friends is the Hubble Telescope. She follows it around and protects it from harm. She isn't sure where it came from, but she enjoys its company and beeping.

Betelgeuse is also hyper aware of her impending supernova event, oftentimes resulting in panic attacks or periods of dimming. She is terrified of that event and lives day by day. This also leads to her doing some rather risky stunts as she falls into the "you only live once" mentality. (challenging a black hole to a fist fight wasn't the brightest of ideas; she survived this incident with a couple marks).

Below are some more sketches of the goober when I was still figuring her out

[Left to right, up and down)

- Fuck you mean I got 100,000 years left? (*on the verge of punching someone*) (**crying too, I guess**)

- Live fast, die young!

- *A whole ass black hole*

- Finally! A worthy opponent, our battle will be legendary!

- BRING IT ON!

-Without suit on, nothing but an unstable ball of fire (*got suit stained*)

- Sunglasses on a star?

- *Lost the black hole fight* NGL, I don't feel too good.

- *Eye tongue*

- *Under the gloves*

- (1995) *Confusion* *Hubble Telescope*

- Look, Hubble! Perfect for photos!

- Hubble *simplified*

- Sorry Hubble! Asteroids have NO respect!

- The more I think of it, the more I see that we aren't that different.

- Two lonely cosmic wanderers destined to eventually break down.

- Eventually.

If you read this far, hope you like it :]

[sinistermaximalism]

a beautiful monster - Crimson Peak (2015)

shall we have the argument about whether or not Crimson Peak is a horror movie? Guillermo del Toro says it's not, that it's a Gothic romance, and yes okay maybe he knows best, but also all movies are horror movies, QED.

right, now we've got that sorted, let's talk about Allerdale Hall. The titular Crimson Peak, named for the blood-red clay of the ground the house sits on (and which made the family their fortune), is a beautiful nightmare. by design. as well as, you know, all the ghosts, del Toro intended for the house itself to be a monster. it's a character in its own right; it shifts, it screams, it bleeds.

the actual set was fully constructed, for real, save the hole in the roof that light (and snow) falls through, which means someone had to physically create all of those details you're looking at. go on, open up the photo and take a proper look. the shot up at the top of the post, a low angle on the entrance hall, makes Allerdale Hall a hulking monster; as a viewer, you're dwarfed by it.

partly that's the angle, looking up, but partly it's the triple (quadruple?) height ceiling. each floor has a high ceiling, but here, in the hall, you're looking all the way up, up the staircases that line the walls, all the way to the roof. for a house with secrets, that entrance hall feels wide open. like a mouth. or a maw.

you can get a better look at some of the details here. what a difference lighting makes, eh? here, you can see that the house is full of colour, glowing gold and jade, reflecting the colours of the then-happy couple. (Edith's always in gold, she always glows.) colour is deeply significant in this film, as del Toro basically colour-codes everything, and it doesn't take a lot of analysis to see the difference between how grand and beautiful the house looks here vs how it looks in the dark.

considering the height of this room, there are very few windows. actually, that hole in the roof might be serving a useful purpose - otherwise, the only natural light is coming from that one window at the top, which really only serves to enhance the feeling that you're being engulfed by something. even when you can see the gold, you're still in the belly of the beast.

architecture-wise, we're talking Gothic Gothic Gothic. all those arches! all those sharp points! this house has teeth. it's incredibly ornate, and incredibly sinister. (was this house the inspiration for my blog name? you got me.)

it's opulent, Victorian, even fussy, but crucially, it's also ruined. you don't notice it so much in the light like this, but as Edith explores, she finds out just how much of a mess everything really is. and I mean, imagine how much dust would build up in all of those nooks and crannies. everything in this house looks like it's designed to keep an army of servants busy, except that the Sharpes, by the time we meet them, have run out of money, and everything's falling apart.

here's another look, from a slightly different angle, of how those staircases wind around and around one another. you'd get lost in this house, wouldn't you? Crimson Peak deliberately draws on Gothic literature, and in those stories, unsuspecting women were often imprisoned and undone by big houses. this one has devoured more than its fair share. but then, it's a big beast. imagine the second Mrs de Winter trying to take charge of a house like this! brrrr.

so, features worth taking another look at: the carved bannisters; the twisted columns; the uncanny angles of the staircase; the grandfather clock that almost disappears into the wall; that tapestry, gold and green again, a signal about where the story's going. steps, steps, and more steps. this is a house designed on the scale of a cathedral (check out the painted saints on the walls of the second floor!) except that in those spaces, the Gothic arches and huge stained glass windows are designed to direct your eyes and your mind upwards to heaven. Crimson Peak is sinking into the ground, and it'll take you down with it if you give it a chance.

fwiw I would definitely use that gold and green colour scheme in my own home. it's something I've been genuinely considering - rich jade green walls with antique gold highlights - for a little while, and only when pulling together pictures for this post did I consider the subconscious inspiration.

probably gonna skip all the spiky bits, though.

[pandiongames]

Banda's Grove Overhaul Devlog - Design, Maps, and Terminology

Why are we overhauling Banda's Grove? See here: https://www.tumblr.com/pandiongames/711176177895735296

This will be a series of design deep dives. We want to share not just what we're changing about the game, but why we're changing it. Perhaps it could help someone in the future. I'll be using "#banda's grove overhaul" tag in each post if you would like to follow along.

Page Design

Check out the images if you want an idea of what Banda Grove's current rules are. This isn’t final text in the v2 image by any means, but we’re walking down the path of making new master pages for layout.

A Refreshed Color Palette

The background color is lightened up, and the vibrancy of all the colors is increased just a little bit for further contrast. We played around with changing the palette completely, but after a couple of hours of going back and forth, we decided to tweak the existing one because it feels unique and iconic to BG now.

New and more fonts

We stuck with Oil Can as the header and title font after looking at a ton of different options. This is a special font for me because it is no longer available from Lost Type co-op and hasn’t been for almost a decade now. Back when we started this project, I emailed them to get reconfirmation of a commercial use. I covet and backup the .otf file religiously. That certainly increases the likelihood this will remain a unique look.

But for the body text, we’ve swapped out Courier Prime with three fonts, two of them are on display here. The Paragraph is Bitter from Google Fonts, while the in-game handwriting is KH Sober Draftsman from Kern + Hide.

The callout boxes (post-it notes) in the game will use Ultra-Classified by Kern + Hide - this wonderfully jaunty typewriter/newsprint type of font.

We will be working with columns where it makes sense, but there will be a mix.

This is all to give the book a cleaner, easily readable interior. Previously, I was using different colored callout boxes to differentiate between “in world” notes from Ranger Murie, and game text. Now, however, we can represent that by font styles, which keeps the pages a bit more tidy.

The rectangle and pink triangle in the header is an anchor design and be used throughout everything to tie things together.

Maps, Mapping, and Hexes

We’ve been working the last few days on the mapping system in Banda’s Grove. Please note, things are still influx, and may change more.

Mapping in Banda’s Grove has been tedious at best from the very beginning. It originally had a tetris-style chunk of hexes you could lay down on a massive hex grid. That was replaced with a simpler 19 hex flower, and you started by building out 7 of them to start. But each individual hex also had its detail map of another 7 hexes to track little details. This was a lot to manage, to say the least, and made online games dang near impossible.

I had a big conversation today with another designer on the purpose of a hex on a map, and Banda’s Grove does not have any travel or time mechanics tied to traversing a hex. It is not a hex crawl or point crawl. The purpose of the map is to draw, sketch, and laugh together when you talk about the worlds you’re building.

So, we are getting rid of hex grid and detail maps entirely.

Instead, we are working on implementing a single free form map, plus a shared notebook. We’ll still provide a themed map, but players can also just use the biggest piece of paper they can get their hands on to draw the twisting, winding, Planes converging at the Grove. Players still draw together with Jamboard, Figjam, tldraw, aggie.io, or Miro for online games, or ignore the map aspect completely.

We’ll provide tips on how to setup your shared notebook or gdoc and offer optional templates in PDF and .gdoc formats. We’re investigating other online worldbuilding tools to build templates for them as well.

This change has an additional upside: We can remove an entire technical term from the game, reducing jargon and confusion.

Before, we used the word “Fragment” to denote we were talking about a hex tile in general, and “Plane” to talk about the biome and culture on that Fragment. The word Fragment has now been completely removed from the game, and we only have Planes.

As an example, Maps in Banda’s Grove will become more free form like this, rather than the more bounded hex grid style. And no, I cannot draw. This is why I hire artists!

And this actually opens up some interesting possibilities for using mechanics to add limits, encouraging players to use the Convergence Event move, which also risks adding blips to the map, which in turn causes more narrative friction.

I’m playing with limiting the number of facilities you can build on a single Plane - we have to make sure we don’t overcrowd the environment! However, now a Convergence Event can add a new Plane you come up with yourself, or expand an existing Plane (you still need to roll to see which Plane is extended). Extending a Plane doesn’t add any new overhead to your note-taking now. You just continue adding details and notes under the “Cluthar” section.

When blips occur, you still roll a pebble over the map, and the Plane it lands on becomes shrouded in primordial darkness and is unavailable until mended.

Actions, Phases, & Quantum Events

First, let’s discuss a quick term rename I did. We mistakenly used the name “Action” to represent the special abilities of a playbook, facility, or downtime phase that cost a pebble to use. These are now called Moves. This will free up the word “action” for another mechanic to reduce confusion further.

The other piece I’ve been working on is how Phases work. Phases were always meant to represent the passage of a week, but their naming and how I implemented them muddled that, and it was… confusing at best.

I’ve always had this idea that the “Downtime” phase was the weekday, that’s why you have 5 actions to take. One for each day of the week.

The Update Phase was supposed to represent Sunday Evening, when you’re settling in and taking a moment to prepare for the weekday.

And the Quantum Event phase, was meant to be the weekend, a time of adventure, and shenanigans around the campgrounds.

The phases and quantum events have been renamed to reinforce that weekly cycle concept fully:

The Weekday - You take 5 Weekday Actions. You can spend pebbles to perform Weekday, Playbook or Facility moves, or have slice of life roleplay scenes to gain pebbles.

The Weekend - This is when you go on Weekend Adventures! Time to get into and out of trouble, help peoples, and discover hidden mysteries.

Sunday Night - This is the time to settle in after your big adventures, take stock, reduce your dice, and prepare for the Weekday.

Even though these are just terminology changes, they help reinforce the concepts of the gameplay loop, what it means, and connect the mechanical concepts together better.

And speaking of the Weekday Phase, we have simplified the “Downtime Actions” (now called Weekday Moves). Before, you had Downtime Actions. Some were nestled under a “Grove Projects” action, which itself was several possible actions. Wow, that’s confusing. That is all rewritten and organized, so there’s no nesting. Just a list of comprehensive Weekday Moves now.

Because The Weekend is a cleanly defined phase of free form adventuring and roleplay, but with the limitation of not being able to use Weekday or Facility moves, I can also organize gameplay better.

The biggest one here is Events (previously “Festivals” & “Special Events”, also simplified). They were always a free form adventure. They were designed as roleplay heavy, low stress, celebratory “Quantum Events” with boons and bonuses for your efforts - they have an introduction, complications, and your reward for participating.

But, they didn’t really fit in the Weekday phase’s gameplay, where they currently take place. But that’s where they had to live because The Quantum Event Phase was for Quantum Event. As written, it didn’t leave room for anything else.

Now the Weekend is a phase of adventuring where you just can’t use Weekday or Facility Moves, only your Playbook Moves, inventory, and wit. By default, a Weekend Adventure takes place - either one we wrote, or one you create.

However, now an Event can replace that Weekend’s Adventure. There are some Facility Moves that also initiate Events, like putting on a play at the Stage. That will take place during the Weekend in lieu of a Weekend Adventure now as well.

All these little tweaks and changes are to streamline and organize play, reduce jargon and drastically increase clarity.

Until next time!

-Andy

[leefi]

The Flower that Bloomed Nowhere Read-through | Part 7: 90-100

Part 1: 1-14 | Part 2: 14-22 | Part 3: 22-34 | Part 4: 34-64 | Part 5: 64-80 | Part 6: 81-90 | Part 7: 90-100 | Part 8: 100-127 (caught up here)

Bal is soooo funny for choosing to simply sit out and wait the loop. If that were me I’d be acting out. I’d be skipping around the sanctuary acting mischevious and committing hooliganry. Hey does Fang have loop memories

SU NAME REVEAL!!! KUROKA!

raises hand. I have another question. did samium also fuck that old man

Shiko is so sweet oh my goddddd 😭 I wonder if Kuroka fell in love with her...

I hadn't even realized how much of a fan I was. That another me had been growing on those lonely nights, only waiting for someone to draw it out.

Even though it was such a small thing, for the first time, I felt like I was able to be someone other than myself. Someone who shined brightly.

Just like her. AWWWUWYYYYYYUUUUWUWUUUUUUUU!!!!! AWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

"Fang, Su, have you still got enough eris for barriers?"

Fang looked at their scepter, making a thoughtful hum. "Yeah, for a few minutes."

I thought Fang didn’t have their scepter?

Another thing I'd failed to understand at the time was that this was largely by design. Replicating high-quality food was impossibly cheap, and a low-hanging fruit in terms of helping people's quality of life. It was the politics of spite, or 'tough love' if you wanted to be charitable; choosing not to help others for no reason other than them having not earned it, or at least treating it as not worth the infinitesimally minor inconvenience to their betters.

oh i dont like this worldbuilding that much anymore

“Nowadays you can get your nutrition managed with pills anyway. It's not like when we were kids, when it actually mattered what you ate."

"There's still no long-term research into the subject," [Shiko]’s mother replied, frowning. "And besides, it's not simply a matter of health. There are social consequences to having a limited palate."

“social consequences”? lets kill her

"I'm just saying, it wouldn't hurt to be a little more conscientious," Shiko's mother insisted, holding up a hand. "And I know I've only been here for a couple of years now, but I really don't think it's that bad. Some parts in town seem a little deprived, but the theater is nice, and I've never had any trouble finding anything from the shops. It's hardly Altaia or Old Yru, but it's not as though we're eking out a living on the Lower Planes."

KUROKA BABY IM GONNA GET YOU OUT OF THERE. IM GONNA GET YOU OUT

Shiko’s granddad and Samium were conspiring to use her???? “Get the drop on her”???????? I mean this isn’t anything we didn’t already know but hearing them speak so plainly and shamelessly about it IN HER HOUSE is repulsive

I'd done a lot of stuff for a person my age, especially if you counted the stuff from-- Well, you know. I'd traveled by carriage, bus, tram, vacuum tram, boat and airship. I'd been to seven different countries and lived in four. I'd played in an amateur sport team (assuming chess counts as a sport).

it does not

Ophelia had been unspokenly left out as well; she apparently produced such an aura of eternal femininity that our minds had just silently registered it as the correct call after we'd only been able to find three shovels in the greenhouse.

also me if im being completely honest. *the gorillas get released* sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry

Hey while they’re digging I’ve been thinking. using the dying gods as their proxy has me wondering if this really is an integrated pneuma in some person enacting its long thought out (hehe) revenge. But that doesn’t explain multiple culprits especially considering they’ve been referring to death with different gendered pronouns

She looked between us. "Questions?"

Linos looked to the side. "Uh, do you see any problems with the plan, Zeno?"

There was a pause, then an approving thump from the luggage pile.

funniest character

a possible explanation for many of these contradictions was that there wasn't just one 'mastermind', but competing groups.

One calls it 'master'. The other calls it 'Her'...

YES YES YES YES YES YES YES. It's almost like...a battle of wills? A battle of competing ideologies?

"I think I-- I think I have a hernia," I said weakly.

"What you have is a case of the weeny-whinies.” THE WEENY WHINIES!!!!

KAMRANSU SWEEP!!! im doing yuri multiplication in my head rn

hum. "Indeed, you've stumbled upon the fundamental issue. After all, if what we inhabit is not the true reality, but merely the product of a physical process within another, it seems very improbable for our 'creators' to be playing with tools akin to our own. Our very conception of inter-dimensional spacetime - and the associated concepts of entropy, movement, and finite energy - could be nothing more than an amusing fabrication, with no bearing on actual physics."

Kind of like how a two-dimensional creature can only interpret a 3-dimensional world from a 2-dimensional perspective, and a 3-dimensional creature can only interpret a 5th-dimensional world from a 3rd and simplified 4th dimensional perspective…but what defines “actual?“ is any of your universe “actual”, for that matter? You have no confidence that your reality is real beyond the myths you’ve heard of the ironworkers. I don't mean to explicitly suggest this is a simulation by any means, but rather...I'm thinking back to Zeno's question. "Why turn back the self when you can turn back the world?". Well, if you're conflicted on what a "self" constitutes, it only follows to reason that the nature of the world around you too would also fall into question...

Well, that depends, Utsushikome. Do you believe a pawn is destined only to look across at its rival pieces for eternity, by its very nature?" She stabbed her fork into a tomato, spilling its red fluid. "Or, perchance, might it learn to crane its neck towards heaven?"

My eyes drifted from the tower towards the ceiling of the bioenclosure proper. The blackness.

Slowly, I clicked my tongue. OHHHHOHOHOHOGOGOGOGOGOOGOGOGOHOHHOHHOOHHOOHOGOGOGOGOYOYO RHHEEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHE

She nodded several times, like I'd said something profound. "Yes. That's it exactly." She exhaled. "It's cowardice. People are afraid of death, so they try to turn it into something it isn't. Something beautiful and cathartic, something symbiotic with humanity, just like Grandmaster Melanthos was talking about. So they don't have to face the truth that it was all for fucking nothing. That being mortal is an accident of material circumstance, just as much as hunger or, or-- I don't know, going *bald*.” 🦍

"When people think of truly eternal lives, of sticking not just a few more centuries on the pile but outlasting the lifespan of stars, the scope of the proposition is harrowing. What would we become, in trying to achieve true stability as creatures of chaos and change? Could we?" Her voice grew a little quieter; solemn, almost. "What would we do, without that option to simply fade away?" She looked towards me. "What do you think, Su?"

I went for a third round of blinking, just to emphasize the point.

Why does [Kam] always single me out in these conversations?

big ass crush on you

Ohhh Kam is a 60 year old minor! Cool!

Even though she'd dismissed questions on the subject with an affect of far-sightedness back in the transpositioning chamber, the fact of the matter was that people our age getting stressed out about their own mortality was freakishly rare; I'd literally never met another person quite like [Kam].

This trait she and I share. I was having existential breakdowns at the tender age of 5

Ohhh Su is in her early-mid thirties! Okay yeah that checks out with her mental illness

You're only 32, Su," she said, frowning. "It's a little early to making world-weary statements like that, don't you think?

*looks at su* *looks at orv*

*looks back at su*

Of all the years I could live, could thrive, until all those regrets are nothing more than a single drop in a vast lake. I'm sure the same is true for you, too."

This really was out of character for her. I felt a complicated feeling in my chest. "That's, uh... Kam..."

"Is this really the right time for this?" Ran asked flatly. "The philosophy was one thing, but this is getting weirdly romantic."

Kam scoffed, making a gesture of distaste. "Don't be peculiar, Ran."

KAMSU SWEEP WE HAVE LITEREALLY NEVER BEEN MORE BACK THAN WE ARE RIGHT NOW

"Perfect," Kam said, stepping towards it immediately.

"Feels a little weird to be looting the dead," I said, glancing around.

"This is no time for sentiment, Su," Kam replied. She walked up to the cabinet in question and, after unsuccessfully trying the lock, took the butt of her refractor rifle and shattered it, before casting it aside and sliding the larger weapon out.

this actually became a COD lobby im crying

saw Samium lying down in the bed, eyes half-open, staring at the ceiling. Other than the fact that there was a book by the side that seemed to be gone now - fiction, probably, the cover depicting a ship - that felt a little confusing. So he could read a novel, after all? Or maybe someone had left it here?

Ship of Theoseus chan?

Why did the playwright just look at me

"Okay, so. Here's the thing," they said. "The monster might be, uh, real."

SWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPP

WE HAVE LITERALLY NEVER BEEN MORE BACK THAN THIS MOMENT FOLKS THIS IS IT. THIS IS REAL. IT'S HAPPENING

Okay for all my excitement about the beast is there any way to check if that’s actually the phantasm conjuring arcana they talked about earlier? Could explain the grim reaper but I don’t remember if it could produce sound or not…or how big it could get. Could also just be a really advanced golem since the power was active while this was happening? (And that was the negating factor when they were debating COBD (cause of Bardiyas death before))

I’m pretty sure the beak thing is actually real though, so many people have corroborated it. The beast only showed up while people were panicking

Man I wouldn’t be surprised if this conversation with Samium we’re seeing over the logic thing concluded with Su pushing him out the window. my rationale towards this is would that be fucking crazy or what

So, this sounds like it's coming from way off in the distance-- Like really far down the hall, or behind a wall, or something. Now, I'm getting a really bad vibe at this point,

Have i mentioned yet how much I love fang

Ann says we should just gun it." Anna's eyes narrowed slightly at her name being shortened, but didn't interject.

Have i mentioned yet how much i LOVE fang

I said something stupid about hiding up in the armory, maybe grabbing some of the grenades, so we went all the way up

they are addicted to those grenades

If Ptolema thinks the beast is fake then I believe that it's fake. She’s consistently proven to have the best observational skills of the entire group, picking things up that other people don’t see. As she says, she's got the mind of a surgeon. She knows how a body is meant to be built and interact with its environment. Believe women!!!! Ema sweep!!!!

Can I be honest. Creepy children’s stories scare me so much and I could barely get through that one barn quest in Cyberpunk 2077 and this children's slideshow with the piglet is reminding me of that. I literally couldn’t sleep for a few days after playing that. Anyway. Animal Farm? because there is a farm with animals

no i'm being deadass was that an animal farm redux. it felt like an animal farm redux

It would be so funny if Fang acted the way they do because something was wrong with them. But it would be even funnier if they're just like this

[hermesserpent-stuff]

spoilers for Seidr, Iron, and Ice. Im writing several chapters ahead with this scene. Im not entirely sorry. loki and steve beloveds.

Loki stares at steve who is sitting on the roof. He had come up here to brood. But it seems the space is already occupied. He turns to leave as Steve looks up from his sketchbook.

“Oh! Loki right? Care to join me?”

Loki raises his book in reply and Steve gives an answering smile. 

“I promise not to bother you too bad. The roof is a good place to think and escape from all the people.”

Loki tilts his head and then walks forward. He had alread made the journey up here. Might as well stay. He sits down and there is lasting silence between them for a while. Steve moves a pencil back and forth across the sketchbook. Loki reads the history book. A half burst of thankfulness curls around his heart. Odin had not taken his ability to read other languages. He had taken all else. His voice. His ability to write. His strongest weapons. He is lucky to have been taken in by kind people rather than by those that might wish to kill him for existing. The all father is uncaring, Loki supposes. Perhaps the ability to read had been left as a mistake and not as a gift to be thankful for. 

Bitter rage must be leaking out of his posture because he hears Steve clear his throat. He looks over and the sketch book is being offered up. Loki hesitates, confused by the gesture for many reasons. Artists were often very protective of their sketches back home, with few wanting unfinished designs to ever be seen by a strangers eye. And Steve does not know him well. Though how could anyone know him well? Silence follows his every step. Loki gently takes the sketch book.

“Harry gave that to me not long after I moved in. He said that doing art helped him feel better after getting away from his ex-father.”

Loki starts to look at the art. Realistic images set in graphite. A little further in bursts of color come through. Each image is of ordinary things. Bits of Steve’s apartment. A pair of boots Loki does not recognize. A view of the city from the roof they are sitting on. Different images of the people that fill this building. Montana, Quentin, Peter, and Harry are among them. And then. Himself. Sitting quietly with a book, in the corner of what must have been one of the movie nights. Present. And captured in a way that Loki had not quite ever thought he would be seen in. Not compared. Not weak or less than.

Just as himself. 

Him.

A quiet reader smiling slightly at whatever else is going on in the room.

Steve has fallen quiet. Loki taps the image then points at Steve and then to his own eyes and then to his whole self. The man blinks and then hums.

“Thats how I see you, yeah. I notice you cause I have to notice everything. But I drew you… because in that moment you seemed happy. Its hard… to be happy if you cant remember it. All the guys I ran around with in the Howlin’ Camandos had something to remind them of happier times. Of what had to be protected and what they could return to. And I found that really hard in this place that echoes of home without being my home. What moments of happiness could I hold onto that were not beyond my reach due to the vastness of time? But then Harry gave me the sketchbook, and I could capture small moments and keep them around.”

Steve gently takes the sketch book back and flips it to the end. Loki spots a few doodles on the last couple pages that are done in many styles and hands that he knows are not Steve’s. Steve flips it to a blank page and presents it back to Loki with a pencil.

“Here. I like having people draw in the back. Its always interesting to see what they think of adding when given the opportunity of a blank page. And maybe it will help get your anger out. I know you dont write and I know you cant talk. But maybe you can draw?”

Loki takes the sketchbook back and stares down at the blank page. It is terrifying. To be presented with a vast field of nothering and be expected to mark it. To make it known that he once held this bit of an artist’s soul. His mind wanders and his hand absentmindedly falls into doodling runes he has no power to fuel. And then those runes evolve into lightning and clouds and the outline of Thor’s stupid helmet and the curve of his mother’s favorite necklace that Loki had made himself and the thick lines of his father’s throne. He misses home. He misses it so bitterly! Why had none contacted him? Was he truly not worth trying to fix or reach out? He had thought maybe Thor would try. He had hoped that his mother would speak to him. Was he not worth love?

He pushes the sketchbook back as tears gather. Steve touches his arm and he shies away. 

“I… I didnt want to upset you. But sometimes its okay to admit what you feel. You dont always have to wear a mask. Ive broken a lot of punching bags over it. But I dont think thats your style. I have lost a home too. Maybe not in the same way, or with the same pain, but Im here. If you want or need me.”

Loki swallows and nods. Steve had been watching. And had tried to reach out in a way that might suit Loki. It is kind. He slowly sits back down and takes the sketchbook back and finishes filling out the page as Steve sits nearby. Symbols of his mother and brother fill the page and cross over the stupid thrown of his stupid father. It feels nicely vindictive to cover up that initial doodle of the throne.

[kihakugato-art]

Another OC's birthday has arrived; Kayla Marabane! She is a bisexual Gotheek dragon who's also a Fallenbeast Slayer! She is one of my oldest existing OCs, being one of the few I created onve I started drawing more human forms in highschool!

Her very first design was uploaded November 2010 (shown here) and hoo boy she has changed a LOT since that very first iteration; she was paler and skinnier, and her personality was ditzy, quite battle hungry and a bit of a switch flip flop between a hero and a villain.

From the very start of her creation she was sorta smitten with Terra, but at the time Terra was being paired with a male OC at the time.

Oh how little did I know how much her love for Terra would take more the forefront while that other OC would get fully benched from existence

Look how different she is from way back then; she's now fatter, darker skinned, and much gentler despite her high energy nature. She's still a Fallenbeast Slayer though, its just that now she takes that responsibility cause she HAS to not cause she wants to.

You get to see the current newest iteration of her Slayer armor, even if it still is under WIP imo (very close to done though! still figuring out the hammer and cannon especially)

Her love for Terra hasn't changed though, & they are still one of my dearest OC couples I got. They don't kiss often but they do nosetouch and snuggle a lot as far as showing affection~

Though I enjoy shipping Kayla with others, Kayla/Terra is the OTP

I wanted to draw Kayla kissing some other characters for her bday I'm still unpracticed in drawing different kisses 😅

She may love most/all men/women but she definitely has a particular weakness for muscular peeps, especially strong/muscular women 👀 Oh to be princess carried~

It's funny thinking about the fact that in main-canon she probably can outmuscle the very types of people she covets

I enjoy drawing her happy in cute/pretty dresses (and she loves wearing them too), but I definitely want to draw her in more outfits (and not just dresses!), in more expressions (Even just different smiles; not all her smiles can just be happy smiles!), and her dragon form which I may redesign in the future.

[gloomforrestrunes]

Do you have design making recommendations? Like you make such interesting designs, is there a certain way you go about making them?

aaaa thank you! it makes me happy that people like my silly designs.

its hard to put my process into words since I've done this for so long, so it just comes naturally to me at this point, but here's a few things that i tend to keep in mind!

the first thing i take into account is the very basics of the character's personality! its okay to not have them fleshed out right away, but knowing their core attributes will help a LOT with designing em! like- you could probably look at laxo's design and guess the basics of what he's like from his design alone: timid, bashful, gloomy.

the next thing i decide is their shape! this part is arguably the most important, since making the shape of your character unique and tailored to them is what will set them apart from your other characters! the main four, for example, all have distinct and different body-types (both in canon and in the human au) this part can be pretty tricky- which is why its okay and ecnouraged to make a couple of passes of whatever you have in mind for them until you make something that clicks! it took me SO long to get laxo's design (both his first volume and demon design) to a place i was satisfied with. he by far has THE most outdated reference sheets out of all my characters lmao.

palettes!! its super important to find colors that go well together to make a nice looking design! also a big thing to keep in mind is to not use a lot of colors for one character in risks of things getting cluttered! i try not to go over using 3-4 colors (not including eye color) per design. color theory is important to keep in mind here, what colors clash and dont clash and whatnot! c:

and then there's markings! this mostly goes for animal designs which is what i usually do, but some of this stuff can attribute to human designs as well! for putting the markings on there its a good idea to keep it relatively simple! or at least make sure that you'd be okay with drawing this design again separately from the reference sheet. this is mostly something i keep in mind since im a comic artist and an animator, so i have to come to terms with the fact that ill be drawing my characters over and over again, so it would be hell if i made a super complicated design for myself lmao. its sorta tricky to find that sweet spot between too simple and too complicated, and it honestly just takes practice and learning from what other designs i see!!

woop this was longer than i intended it to be, but i hope some of this was helpful!!

also PLEASE keep in mind that my word is not gospel! do whatever you want with designing and character creation as a whole, as long as you're having fun there's no wrong way to go about it! :D

[fzzr]

The Ice Guy and His Cool Female Colleague is the Comfiest Workplace Anime

Koori Zokusei Danshi to Cool na Douryou Joshi (The Ice Guy and His Cool Female Colleague, henceforth "Ice Guy") is a slow-paced anime about a workplace romance in a world where the descendants of youkai live openly among people. It is also super duper comfy, with characters who are absolute perfect cupcakes hanging out in a workplace setting.

The titular Ice Guy is Himuro, a descendant of a yuki-onna (snow woman). His ancestry means that when he experiences some strong emotion (anxiety, anticipation, etc.) he manifests a highly localized snowstorm or other snow-related phenomena. He meets Fuyutsuki, the cool female colleague, when he finds himself literally frozen in place on the way to what turns out to be both of their first days on the same job. They're both immediately smitten and only become more so as they get to know one another.

Alongside our leads are an assortment of other humans and youkai descendants. Fox spirit Komori and phoenix Katori fill out the supernatural side, and Himuro's sister puts in (criminally few) appearances as well. Saejima and Otonashi are other humans working alongside them all as they go through their days at an unspecified but usually relatively relaxed office job.

/comf/

Ice Guy is always an all around chill (no pun) time. It's not like there's no conflict at all, it's just that the conflict is along the lines of trying to get a limited edition drink or wanting to get a prize in a company costume contest. The point of the show is to put Fuyutski and Himuro in proximity and let them be perfect at each other. Normally one might feel anxiety that they're taking too long to get moving with the romance, but despite being glacially (yes pun) slow it never feels frustrating. The characters all just like being around each other, and so do we.

There are probably a few layers of fantasy here to draw you in. Many jobs are stressful and alienating. Seeing a group of people doing work they at least don't mind with people they enjoy being around is a dream in its own way. Workplace romance in real life is often a Bad Idea but Fuyutski and Himuro seem to be able to navigate it without great risk. Plus, who doesn't like the idea of bonding over someone's cat and exchanging cute little matching tchotchkes and doing tiny acts of consideration and kindness and and and....

The Eyes Have It

There is one unavoidable thing to discuss about the animation of Ice Guy, and that's the eyes. Everyone has interesting and distinct eye (and especially iris) designs, but what makes them stand out is they're animated. If you look at someone's eyes they're almost never still - they adjust and look around. You know, like actual eyes. That is incredibly rare in anime, and certainly I don't think any show has done it in this way. It can be distracting when you're not used to it, but once you are it makes the characters all the more human. It also provides something to look at when we see reactions up close.

Conclusion

Score: The Ice Guy and His Cool Female Colleague is 8/10. Sometimes you just want to hang out with characters who are just adorable together and this more than delivers.

Recommendation: Ice Guy is indeed very slow paced, but if you're in the market for something comfy and romantic but are tired of the usual high school setting, maybe give it a shot. The power level requirement is minimal.

Comparisons

Wotakoi is the most obvious comparison for Ice Guy. It's also about workplace romances, this time between otaku. It takes place at a different time in the relationship, though. Wotakoi's main characters already had history together. The plot kicks off with them getting together as a couple. Most of the content is similar to Ice Guy anyway, with the two of them getting to know each other in different ways, meeting family, etc. It's a bit more comedic in tone, but if you like Ice Guy there's a good chance you'll like Wotakoi as well.

Working!! is a different kind of workplace romance anime. Specifically, it's an off the wall comedy. The romance starts out as very secondary, but increases in prominence as the story moves along. It follows the Toradora! pattern of being about how the characters develop and come to understand their feelings. The similarity with Ice Guy is mostly in how the workplace setting interacts with the plot. Both of them make ample use of work as a device to put the characters in proximity and in unusual situations (like a work party or team trip).

Interviews With Monster Girls is a show that uses a similar conceit of supernatural beings living casually in an otherwise recognizable society. It uses that frame to explore living with and accommodating disabilities and disabled people. Ice Guy doesn't make quite as much use of that setting twist, but it does share the specific detail of using the yuki-onna ice power to punctuate emotional moments. Just a neat little commonality.

Final Thoughts

I don't know how many times I gotta tell you that Himuro and Fuyutsuki are perfect and adorable and etc. etc. Just give it a watch next time you feel like life is going too fast.

[studentabode]

Exploring the UK's National Parks- Weekend Adventures for Nature-Loving Students

The UK’s national parks are famous, highly valued places to unwind, hike, climb, cycle, and paddle. Davies says, ‘They are also refuges for rare wildlife, plants, and distinctive habitats, and they are essential to solving some of the most important issues facing our nation today, like welfare, climate change, and biodiversity loss.'

Information about the National Parks of the UK

In 1951, the Peak District became the first region to be designated as a National Park. Each National Park is overseen by a different organization, with financing provided by the federal government. The authorities have members of paid staff, including rangers, guides, and office workers who cover admin and planning. However, they also have volunteers doing things such as fixing fences and walls, surveying wildlife, and leading guided walks.

If you love to enjoy the outdoors, you will know that National Parks are our playground. You will come across lots of active pursuits like hiking, climbing, and cycling, along with adrenaline-fuelled fun. There are various National Parks here, go have a look below:

• The Brecon Beacons-

 520 square miles make up the Brecon Beacons National Park, which is located on the boundary between Mid Wales and South Wales. The four mountain ranges are The Black Mountains, the Central Beacons, the Forest Fawr, and the Black Mountains.

• Broads-

 Over 25% of the rarest animals and plants in the UK can be found on the Broads. It's situated in Suffolk and Norfolk. The area was mined for peat fuel, and the mines flooded in the fourteenth century.

• Cairngorms-

 Scotland's northeast is home to the Cairngorms National Park. This area has an incredible landscape from wild mountains and heather moorlands to forests and lowland habitat.

• Dartmoor-

 It is well known for its untamed, wide-open moorlands, unusual animals, and granite tors. The area is 368 square miles. It is located in Devon. Many outdoor pursuits are available here, like hiking, climbing, caving, kayaking, and cycling. However, this is the only authorized wild camping area in England.

• Snowdonia-

 Its headquarters are in northwest Wales and its total area is 823 square miles. It has a rich past that extends back to the days of slate mining. There are remnants of slate quarries everywhere in the region. It has the highest mountain in Wales. The airy Crib Goch is a knife-edged arête and Grade 1 scramble to the summit. The Llanberis Path is less exposed but still a strenuous walk of 9 miles.

• Exmoor-

 It is located in west Somerset and North Devon. The National Park was Europe’s first Drak Sky Reserve, making it a great stargazing area. It is a 267.5 square mile area of gorgeous coastline and high, open moorland. It is known for its wild ponies and a plethora of outdoor activities, including mountain biking on over 400 km of Bridleways. The walking routes are different and even include a couple of long-distance paths passing through: the South West Coast Path and the Coleridge Way.

• Lake District-

 Northwest England's Lake District is the famous national park in the United Kingdom. It is a known tourist place that is spread in a hilly 912 square mile area. The national park contains a list of sixteen bodies of water.

• Loch Lomond and the Trossachs-

 The area of Loch Lomond and the Trossachs is 720 square miles. You will see diverse wildlife here, like red squirrels, highland cattle, red deer, otters, harbour porpoises, and common seals. The park provides a whole range of activities. Wild camping is permissible but there is a camping management zone covering a few areas between March and September.

• New Forest-

 It is based in southern England. Native ponies, forest trails, and heathlands are the park's main draws. It covers an area of 219 square miles and has everything from water sports to cycling, archery, and walking. This is an essential location for nature and conservation. The open heathland makes it home to uncommon varieties of plants and creatures.

• North York Moors-

��There are 26 miles of coastline within the 554 square mile North York Moors National Park. It has 44,000 hectares of heather moorland mixed with small pockets of forest. Some 180 million years ago, the formation of the rocks and cliffs along the coast happened during the Jurassic period. The beaches of North York Moor are a perfect place to locate fossils.

• Northumberland-

 Between the Scottish border to the north and Hadrian's Wall to the south is this 410 square-mile national park. It is the most beautiful and serene national park, with uncommon fauna and breath-taking scenery. There is observation platforms spread out across this park, which boasts the biggest protected Dark Sky Park in all of Europe. The most popular thing to do in Northumberland is go walking.

• The Peak District-

 One of the most popular national parks in the UK is this one. It is roughly 555 square miles in size and is situated in central England. Climbing is very popular in the area, and many climbers decide to attend the institutions in Sheffield, which is not far away. Around 10,000 gritstone pathways are recorded in the Peak District.

Student Tenant will help you out more when you choose to live in this city. We have properties near all the popular places. We provide you with the best student accommodation in this city. You won't run into any problems if you choose to stay with us because of our highly skilled crew. We offer the pupils round-the-clock assistance. We are available to you at any time of day. Our team is globally present and any student can reach us easily. The team that is there for the students are all experts. They will give the best guidance to the students.

[parcy-anda-but-with-actual-posts]

Smaugust Week 1 Smaugust Week 2 Smaugust Week 3 Smaugust Week 4 - you are here!

Day 22: Enchanted — I went more abstract with this one... you can't see the dragon for the shroud around it... nor can it escape. I'll update if I come up with something more concrete, but for now, this is it. Sorry this is a pretty slow start for week 4.

Day 23: Labyrinth — Combined with an overlay of yesterday's excuse of an entry. ;w; That there is a hexed chicken turned into a dragon and it haunts this hedge maze. >v<;; My brain's mush at this point, not a good sign. Let's see how tomorrow goes.

The plot thickens... turns out this cursed hedge-maze chicken is... the Final Boss (Day 24). I did a different color palette for this one, partially because I felt bad for defaulting to a foghorn-leghorn color scheme on the above. The background suffered a bit this round, but I really tried for a more dynamic dragon to make up for the past couple days. I like the sense of motion the radial blur gives, but it robs of some work I honestly put into things. ;w;

Afterthought... I should have opened this whole smaugust project with a disclaimer that I'm obscenely loose with my rules of what can be a dragon and have much, much too much fun hybridizing... this should be the end of the chicken-dragon, though. =v=; b

Day 25: Bioluminescence — Ah, the difference the weekend makes - I've felt significantly better about these last couple entries. >v<;; Have a dragon that's used to being considered drab and not conventionally pretty being comforted with the company of the shiniest. Per most of my dragons, there's some chimerification here, since I can't help myself. ^^;

Day 26: Fanart — Oof, and just like that, the work week strikes. It's just a sketch today - I bit off more than I could chew, exploring an alternative design for characters from an old children's show called Dragon Tales. Zak and Wheezie are the main focus, drawing inspiration from hognoses, while Ord, also featured is built around a beaded lizard in a screenshot redraw of this:

I took some liberties of course, since I was picking animals to inspire more detailed drawings of these guys, and also just went and gave Wheezie a look more so saying: "tf just happened?"

Day 27: Eclipse — Started overworking this and decided to stop - I wanted to do a lindwurm like creature coiled up in the night sky, and bathed in the light of a lunar Eclipse, almost becoming the lunar body itself? The concept was not very thoroughly planned. ^^'

Day 28: Chained — Another workday defeat (if the muse strikes, I may give this an honest retry without being confined to the tail end of my day), but I decided to try a small animation at the expense of any detail or drawing I'd be proud to share. ^^' A depressed cooped up little apartment dragon, looking out the room window before dropping its head, defeated and in tears... it's stuck somewhere, not chained physically, but definitely confined.

Day 29: Aurora — Phew - alrighty, overdid it on blurs and add glow effects, and not sure it's on point with the directions, but I wanted to have fun with this. >v<; Have a cosmic serpentine dragon that flies through the night sky with a body-length mane of shimmering lights. Another concept I wouldn't mind coming back to and putting more work into. ^v^

Day 30: Wood —I got carried away again, but liked the idea of another 'tree mimic', if we may? Or just a fantastical tree that looks vaguely draconic. >v<; Had trouble deciding between Cherry and Wisteria, I guess, and the colors/continuity for the backdrop got completely out of control. @v@; On the upside, I found different uses for that custom brush I made. X'D

Day 31: Mirrored — Okay - done with Smaugust, and some days were better than others, for sure, but I had fun! I went for a cutesy entry for the finish line. Played with bronze/patina tones for these two buddies, and kept it simple, aside from overdoing different brushes for texture. XD