#I don't even own copies of them to try and make rules

[lookbotsfollowmeyay]

Catan-Risk-ThreeKingdomsKill: How To Lose All Your Friends in One Evening

[fanfic-reading-challenge]

The 2025 Fanfic Reading Challenge

Welcome to another year of the Fanfic Reading Challenge (FRC)!

I won't bore you with the history of the challenge, this year, but I will welcome you to check out past posts that do explain some of it, as well as include a brief overview of what, exactly, this challenge is, though it does change year to year. (Essentially you read fics to complete goals and win bragging points and an artsy badge.)

This year is especially different, as I had the extreme pleasure of having @noxsoulmate as a partner in crime in keeping me hostage on track to completing this year's FRC. Another valued member of the mod team is @jandjsalmon and speaks for all of us if you need questions answered!

As for the challenge....

This is, indeed, a challenge. Of course.

First of all... you must obviously read fanfiction. As if you don't already!

You also need to download and make your own copy of the spreadsheet, which can be found here, as well as below in the important links section.

To participate in the challenge, you read fics that match the tasks in the challenge. An example of a task can be: "read a fic with a title containing the word purple in it." Should be easy! Of course, there are harder ones.

Which is why there are different modes of challenge to the FRC. These are as follows:

Participation (Complete 1 task)

Regular Mode (Complete 80 tasks)

Hard Mode (Complete 150 tasks)

Extreme Mode (Complete 220 tasks)

Complete (Complete 250 tasks)

The challenge lasts from January 1st, 2025, to December 31st, 2025.

There are badges that go with the modes completed, and even a secret 6th badge that will be fairly obvious if you look at the spreadsheet! Doesn't mean it'll be easy to complete though. *smirks* (Blame Noxy)

Most important of all: this challenge operates on the honour system. We don't check your work, or your reading logs (see below), so I mean, I guess if you want to be slippery with the rules, you do you, and that's on your conscience, but honestly it's so much fun to see how much you can get done by following the letter of the law/tasks! You can be slippery even with following the tasks fully. It's great fun. ;D

I think that's enough for an intro, really, maybe too much.

Important Links and Reading Logs/Trackers

As there is a component of the FRC that includes tracking numbers of words read, most of us use a reading log/tracker to keep count of how many fics we read, including data such as words, of course, chapters, month completed, ship, author, title, fandom, link to the fic, and such. It's a great place to mark what fics you want to read in the future as well!

This year we have FOUR trackers on offer, quite different from one another, so take a look, play around with them and check out their "intros", and choose according to what you think will work best for you!

Fic Tracking Sheets

Juulna's 2025 Reading Log

Noxy's 2025 Reading Log

2025 Jandy's Fic Tracker

Taru's Fic Tracker 2025

Discord

We have a blast on Discord. From general chatter to sharing pet pics to being there for each other during the tough times to forming lasting friendships and making friendships you’d never make in a ship- or fandom-specific Discord, to asking for help ‘rolling the dice’ (pick a number between 1-10!) to choose the next fic to read, to finding some of the really challenging task fills in fandoms people might not have ever read but are willing to try, or finding fandoms someone has never read and is very tentative about stepping out of their box, but they’re being 100% supported and know they don’t need to complete the fic for it to count for the task, stepping out of their comfort zone… we’ve formed a very odd group of, if not friends, then companions (but there are definite friendships that have formed!! Just ask the people who have started watching NHL and NFL together in our off topic channel!).

In any case, our Discord is not necessary, but it is a worthy and tactical element to completing many of the tasks of this challenge. 💙

And.... without further ado....!

The 2025 Fanfic Reading Challenge! (link)

There is an info/rules page as the first sheet on the spreadsheet that should fill in any further questions you have. It also has more contact info than just this page if you have any further questions and perhaps need a more immediate answer for your needs.

*Occasionally you will run into something that looks like an error, and it may in fact be one! Let us know if you see it. It's hard not to make a mistake on as large a spreadsheet as this.*

Please, first of all, have fun and just read fanfiction that you enjoy! I (Juulna) did that last year and didn't even come close to completing the entire challenge, and I still had a blast because I was enjoying what I was reading and rereading. Others took the challenge right to the completed end. Others forgot about it halfway through but still had fun, and some even went back and filled in the sheet for a really good showing! The challenge is what you make of it, what you want from it. So... just have fun. Read fic. Smile. Enjoy. :)

Second of all... well, we would love if you signal boost this post!!!!

Third of all, we do have our pinned post that includes a link to this page and that will include a link to our Discord and all our trackers as well, including past links for memento and informative purposes.

Thank you, and a blessed 2025 to all!

[justladders]

To everyone in the art community, please:

Tracing is effective. But only as a learning tool. Telling people "never trace" can be robbing them of methods that could have been effective to their learning process if they'd known about them.

The "art of using tracing" is a bit looked over, so I have five points:

(it's a long one)

1: AS A RULE OF THUMB, DO NOT POST/SHARE TRACED AND STOLEN ARTWORK. This is not only lying to anyone you show it to, if you're trying to come off as, "I'm so good, look at what I did," but most importantly, it's lying to yourself. You'll trick yourself into not needing to get any better, and you will stagnate if you start to rely on tracing as a form of stealing. If you come to realize that you are, you should stop using any tracing methods altogether to keep yourself from abusing it. It's a slippery slope for beginners, and a big reason why you’ll hear almost everyone echo that you just shouldn’t trace at all. The issue is that this ignores the ways that tracing can actually be good.

2: Tracing sets the stage for motor skills/hand-eye coordination. I've seen so many early-stage beginner artists get upset that the art that they make of their favorite character/oc is messy, or maybe they just don't even know what they want to draw and can’t "make themselves mindlessly doodle.” These early arists then become completely disheartened and upset, especially if they start to look at other people for comparison. Tracing over work or even over photos is a way to train your hand to hold and wield a pencil/stylus properly without you being worried about the finished product. Think of it like a way to dip your toe into learning the process of what making art feels like, without having to get overwhelmed with searching up pointers and people telling you, "10 quick tips to become a master artist!!!!!!!" (<- please ignore those) If you’re just beginning, your hand-eye coordination needs to be trained, and you shouldn't bog yourself down so much thinking about end products just yet, so if tracing is the way to get you started, go for it. If you're a bit more experienced, tracing and drawing over reference can also help you warm up without being committal or stressing your art brain too much.

3: Practice "mindful tracing." While I said the previous point was targeted more at beginners, this point is actually about something that experts in their field use. Doing "mindful tracing" over art means that you aren't worried about getting the lines "correct," you're studying why those lines are there. You're taking note of where the shadows meet the highlights based on the light source, how it shows off the forms, and how sharp or soft the lighting is; you're going over the lines of action in the piece to see how your eye is guided by the artist's intention and planning; you're seeing how characters may be stylized into shapes and the feeling that those shapes can give; you're noting how the artist uses line weight or weird blocks of color or stark breaks to split up the art or separate ideas within it; you're experiencing the flow of the poses within the artwork to grasp how that kind of thing feels; you're breaking down the overall composition like in a thumbnail sketch; and the list goes on.

"Mindful tracing" ends up looking like you've marked up an English essay: it should be messy, because the intent with it is not to copy or replicate, it's to notate. It's like how literally writing notes on things helps you remember better than if you only read it. You're acknowledging instead of just looking. And you can always learn, even from styles that you don't intend on actually using. As you get to be more experienced, you may come to realize that you can do "mindful tracing" analyses on artwork without having to literally write over top of the piece, which is great: that means you're improving your creative brain, and prepping it to be able to break down your own works in this way as you make them.

4: Trace for specific character or style studying. For this point, I want to especially stress that this is what makes everyone say, "don't trace," because this is what tracing is most commonly associated with: art theft. There's really no excusable reason to repost someone's art in this way.

I feel like you have to be a bit more experienced to properly use tracing specifically for style studies. The benefits that come with tracing a certain style is that it can quite literally teach your hand/brain to recognize the patterns that are present. You get a feel for how far apart a specific characters eyes are, how big their hands are, how the shapes of the body make up their form, how the exaggeration in the expressions feel, and when traced you know you have all of these proportions correct. This makes it so much easier to start drawing the specific character on your own if you know that you have a correct baseline (and of course you should still use reference from then on). When you study many different characters of the same style, you can start to grasp what actually makes up this style that you're studying, where -similar to point #3- you train your art brain to recognize the original artists' intentions and ideas. I would even argue that doing this is MORE IMPORTANT than using reference at the very beginning of a style study, because it makes you worry less about if you're pulling from the reference correctly and instead lets you focus on the original art by thinking through it during the process; this kind of thing is done by professionals. Although tracing can net you these benefits for studies, it is not a way to get around the rest of the learning process, which is the pitfall that normally ends up making tracing ineffective.

5: Lastly, I actually kind of lied about tracing "only being good as a learning tool." The other case where tracing gets used is within the process of making hand drawn animation, and I do mean the professional stuff. Model guides are constantly used in classic animation as reference to keep by the animator's side so that characters stay on model, but sometimes there are unnoticeable parts of a character that just get straight-up traced from either the model sheet or a different scene that's already animated. When used smartly and sparingly, this keeps the character on model, is unidentifiable to the audience, and takes up less time for the animators to work (and by "used smartly" I don't mean moments where characters blatantly have 5 seconds of reused animation). I can basically guarantee that this practice was done throughout the making of any 2D project you can think of.

In digital hand drawn art, key frames between points in an animation may get the "shift and trace" treatment, where the tween frame is just a smudged-around-version of the key frames until it looks about right, and then it get traced over. Backgrounds get traced all the time by artists in the professional field through modelling a 3D render of the space, going over it so they have the layout, and then painting on top of it. When drawing characters, people will take photos of themselves and trace the pose, then keep it to the side as reference. And this is all without even mentioning rotoscoping.

When people say, "don't trace," what they actually mean is, "don't trace as a substitute for experience."

The issue is that people blanketly state, "x thing is bad," because then people that aren't learned in the field go, "oh, okay, x thing is bad, it will always be bad, I shouldn't look into it or consider it any more, and I should correct/disgrace anyone that thinks otherwise or does x thing."

So please. Trace. Tell other people to trace. But remember: trace mindfully. :)

[anim-ttrpgs]

If any of y'all had tips for aspiring TTRPG creators, what would they be? I'm hosting a "How to Make your own TTRPG" panel at a con this weekend, and anything to show folks from a fellow indie studio would be great!

Yeah a bunch. Each one of these could basically be its own post, but here are the condensed versions.

Social Media

You need social media. No one will ever hear of your game without a strong social media presence. And as much as it sucks, your best bet is probably tumblr. It’s the only populated social media site that allows your posts to be widely circulated without you having to pay, and also long form enough to actually include information. I dedicate one day a week entirely to social media and that’s just about the only reason we make any money at all.

Also, when using tumblr, the first five tags you put on a post are the most important, those are the tags that make it show up on people’s dashboards. The first twenty tags are the ones that make it show up in search results. Don’t put the name of your game in the first five tags generally, because if no one has heard of it yet, no one is following those tags.

Don’t Paywall Your Game

You deserve to be paid for your work if you indeed did any work at all (we’ll get to that), but that just isn’t the world we live in. Unless you have an advertising budget to essentially trick people into buying a game that might end up being crap, you need something to prove that your game is worth spending money on. Without an advertising budget, that proof has to be your game. Setting your game to pay-what-you-want, or providing “community copies,” lets people try your game before they buy. Plenty of people will buy up-front when given the option, and others who can’t afford it at that moment will download it for free then come back and pay later. Some people will never pay, but what that means for you is that they either never experience your game, or they pirate it. People experiencing your game, showing it to their friends, and talking about it is one of the most valuable pieces of advertisement you can ever have. It will ultimately lead to more people who are willing and able to pay learning about your game.

Start Small but Not Too Small

Do not make a one-page game for your first game. Do not be like us and make a 700-page game for your first game. Try to aim for something between 20 and 200 pages, especially if you’re one person or a small team.

Play and Read a lot of RPGs or Your Game Will Suck

Would you watch a movie by a director who had only ever watched one movie? Would you read a book by an author who had only ever read one book? Hell no, those would suck.

Read many rpg rulebooks, from many different genres and decades, play as many of them as you can (by the rules) to understand how the rules work and why they’re there. This will give you the creative tools you need to make something that isn’t just a weaker version of the last RPG you played. No, listening to "actual plays" does not count.

Most actual plays stray significantly from presenting a regular gameplay experience in favor of an experience that is entertaining for an audience. If you want to learn martial arts, you should be watching martial arts tournaments, not WWE.

If you want an actual play podcast that has my “actually mostly presents a real gameplay experience” approval, try Tiny Table.

If you say you don’t have time to read rulebooks, then you don’t have time to design a good game. Studying is part of the process of creating. If you don't, you won't even know about gleeblor.

This will let you know whether your "innovation" is more like "Cars don't need to run on gasoline!" or "Cars don't need crumple zones and airbags!"

The Rules Matter, So Design with Intent

The rules matter the rules fucking matter holy shit what you actually write down on the page matters I can’t believe this is actually the seemingly most needed piece of advice on this list. The. rules. matter.

Design your game to be played in the way you designed it. The rules affect the tone and genre of your game, they affect the type of people PCs can be and the kind of stories that will result from gameplay. Bonuses encourage PC behaviors, penalties discourage PC behaviors.

Do not fall for the trap of “oh well people will just play it their own way based on vibes anyway so it doesn’t matter what I write the rules to be.” Write that you wrote this game to be played by the rules and that significant changes to the rules mean that players are no-longer playing the game you made. Write like you deserve for your art to be acknowledged by its audience. If you don’t, then there is no point in anyone playing the game you made, because if the person who wrote it doesn’t even care what the rules say, why should anyone? The people whose “playing” of TTRPGs consists of never opening the rulebook and improving based on “vibes” will still do that no matter what, but the people who would have actually tried to engage with your game will find that it sucks if you don’t even care what the rules are yourself.

Playtest

You need to playtest your game if you want it to work as intended. You need multiple sets of eyes on it. If you don’t have the opportunity personally to do so, just release your game anyway with the acknowledgement that it’s unfinished. Call it an alpha or a beta version, and ask for people that do play it to give feedback, then update and fix the game based on that feedback.

Ignore Feedback

Most people do not have any game design credibility, perhaps least of all TTRPG players. You do not, in fact, have to listen to everything people say about your game. Once you ask for feedback, people will come to you with the most deranged, asinine, bad-faith “feedback” you can imagine, and then get really mad at you when you don’t fall to your knees and kiss their feet about it. You do not need to take this feedback at face value, instead you need to learn to read between the lines and find out which parts of the rules text are being misinterpreted by players, and which incorrect assumptions players are making about your game. Then, you update and improve the game by clearing those up. Only like 30% of “feedback” you receive will actually be a directly helpful suggestion in its own right at face value.

You can’t please everyone, and shouldn’t, so appeal to the people who actually like your game for being what it is, not the people who don’t.

Read Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy

Yeah this one sounds self-serving but hear me out. Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is as much a treatise on TTRPG game design as it is a game itself. When it presents mechanics and rules, it tells you what they are, why they are, how they are, and what you’re intended to do with them. This makes it an excellent example to read for anyone wanting to get serious about game design and learn how TTRPGs tick under the hood, and an excellent example of a TTRPG that expects players to play it the way it was written to be played, and why that is a good thing. Also you can download it for free.

[dailybill-cipher]

[265] Billtober 2024 Prompt List

Presenting to you, once more, Admin Book's version of Billtober! An art challenge where you draw Bill Cipher for the whole month of October!

More information below!

Prompt list is a bit early this year, but I just wanted to post this so those who want to participate can prepare in advance!

This year's prompts are inspired from The Book of Bill. However you are free to make your own twist and not copy directly from the book! There are some repeated prompts from last year as well since I can.

Rules:

- Do not trace/repost/copy anyone's art.

- Anything AI is not allowed.

- It can be in any medium! (e.g Fanfic, Poems, Illustrations, etc.)

- You are free to skip any prompts or even just do 1 or 2 prompts! Try not to burn yourself out.

- Have fun!

Use the hashtag: #dailybilltober2024 if you are using my prompts! You may also use #billtober2024 if you want.

Feel free to tag me! I like to see what you guys made for the challenge. If you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask! I'll try to answer them if I can.

[fairyhaos]

how seventeen act with their writer s/o

requested by anon ^^

masterlist

seungcheol

he is begging. he is on his knees BEGGING you to pls let him buy you a new laptop because the one you use is literally on its last legs and makes ominous sputtering n whirring sounds like a dying cat stuck in a vent every time you start it up. you don't let him tho bc “no cheol the memories :(((“ cuz you've had it for years but he is nearing the end of his tether and who knows. in a few days ur laptop may mysteriously disappear forever and you'll be forced to let him buy a new one

jeonghan

he's like the pet cat you don't own who likes to slink into the room and make inquisitive noises as he watches you work. drapes himself over your shoulders and makes distressed huffs when you try to dislodge him. he's never usually noticeably clingy, but when you try to write, the clinginess always springs out and you can't go five minutes without jeonghan poking his head into the room to check up on you and see what you're up to

joshua

your biggest fan. buys every single novel you write, puts on his glasses, and reads them very seriously in one go on the very evening it's released with the lamp on beside him. he looks so serious every time, but he'll always peer at you over his glasses and then give you a big grin, telling you how much he loves it. gets you to sign a copy for him and brags to everyone he knows that he has your signed novels with special messages just for him that no one else can have

junhui

he's your personal general knowledge bank. when you're searching up obscure things and slowly losing hope on finding an answer, just ask junhui and he'll either a) know the answer or b) knows someone who knows someone else who knows someone else else who knows the answer. don't ask him how to spell words tho bc he's like. hopelessly bad. blinks at you going “what's an [insert word]” before you give up and google it yourself

hoshi

alwaysssss wants to know what you're working on right now. gets all whiny when you get possessive of your work and refuse to show him before it's finished bc come on, it's surely perfect already, why are you trying to hide it from him?? loves helping you do, like, the non writing stuff. writing out plot? nooo. building fantasy maps, figuring out political systems, getting lost on a tangent on figuring out the price of beans in the 1800s? hell yeah sign him up!!! 

wonwoo

knows all the grammar rules in the world. you can ask him stuff like “hey wonwoo can i put a comma here or no” and he'll amble over to peer over your shoulder and tell you whether you can or cannot, in fact, put a comma there. helps you curate all your writing playlists for the different moods you have. gently reminds you to get back to writing whenever you end up scrolling on instagram for too long

woozi

you're even more of a workaholic than he is when in the zone, so he gets to realise how unhealthy it is to be sat in front of a computer for hours straight with no break. you get to act as each other's “let's act like a normal human being now” reminders, depending on which of you is going through a work fixation. you guys both go on runs together in the mornings even though it kills you bc at least it gets both of yo brains kickstarted to spend a day being all creative in ur respective fields

minghao

you value his opinion above anyone else's. above your beta reader's, above your agent's, even above your editor's bc those are more like advice, not opinions. but knowing that minghao likes your work, and knowing which parts in particular he really likes, is so important to you because ultimately, you want the person you love to also love the things that you create. 

mingyu

brings up the fact that you're a writer in every conversation he has with anyone ever. “oh my god look, this menu has writing on it. speaking of writing, my s/o writes actual books as a job!!!!”. your agent made him sign a contract similar to an NDA bc he just keeps yapping about your books even when they haven't been released yet. loves the noises you make whilst you're writing. thinks it's the cutest thing ever when you make overjoyed “AHA!!” sounds when you finally realise what the plot is doing

dokyeom

more than willing to be your rubber duck and let you talk at him until u figure out your own plot holes. he could be in his room scrolling on his phone but the minute you call for him, he's leaping up and bounding over to you and pulling up a chair in an instant, more than willing to let you bounce ideas off him. sits there doing nothing but looking all pretty as you talk at him and work out the tangle you've gotten yourself into. beams and gives you a big kiss when you manage to figure it all out. 

seungkwan

he buys you a biiiig wheely whiteboard and a bunch of coloured board pens to help you plot your novels. when you get stuck, he comes over and stares at the board with his hands on his hips, very gravely considering your dilemma and what would be the best way to get you out of it. you two talk about plot holes like it's the most serious thing in the world and he just nods like a proud father once you both find a solution

vernon

at this point he's like. a professional tea and coffee and biscuits supplier due to the amount of snack runs he does for you. has walked in on you lying face down on the floor during a meltdown one too many times to bat an eye anymore. also great at helping you block out actions during scenes like. he's the perfect doll. lets you maneuver him into the weirdest positions in the world with zero complaints. he just loves helping you however he can, really. 

chan

reads through your drafts whilst you're in the middle of writing, accidentally gets hooked and is begging you every day to finish the novel bc he really wants to know what happens next. he's the best at spotting inconsistencies and plot holes in ur writing so before you even send it off to your beta reader, he gets to have his hands on the manuscript to check for any changes needed. also bc he needs to read the ending asap otherwise he'll probably combust. 

request guidelines

reactions tags: @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @newgirlygirl @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @wonranghaeee @yonabutnotyuna @crackedpumpkin @wqnwoos @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @icyminghao @valenhui @sweet-like-caramel @odxrilove @kyeomyun @chansburgah @pepperonijem @jeonride @kellesvt @kikohao @astrozuya @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @all-american-fangirl @f1uffyjun @sea-moon-star @nonononranghaee @isabellah29 @mcu-incorrect @hrts4hanniehae @suraandsugar @pan-de-seungcheol @dokyeomkyeom @melodicrabbit @bananabubble

[theolivetree123]

Rev up your engines, it’s time to…

🏁 Race for the Cookie Cup! 🏁

(More below the cut)

🫐Event Summary🍒

You, Grim, Ace, and Deuce decide to visit a new arcade that recently opened up in the town not far from NRC. There, you meet up with Ruggie, Epel, Silver, and Idia, who have all taken interest in a specific game in the corner of the arcade. The game is called Sugar Rush! Since there's two arcade machines, Ace challenges Deuce to one round of the game, and whoever loses must pay for the other's lunch. Deuce unsurprisingly accepts, and they begin their match. Midway through their match, however, the game suddenly glitches! You and the gang all think the game is broken until a flash of light comes from the arcade machines. Next thing you know, all 8 of you are somehow inside of the racing game, Sugar Rush!

To escape this sweet nightmare, you must win the next grand prix and obtain the Cookie Cup! But, uh oh. Ace and Deuce are having a bit of a squabble. It seems like you guys are going to have to split into two separate teams!

For this grand prix, Deuce will be accompanied by Silver and Idia as...

Team Bluepuff!

And Ace will be accompanied by Ruggie and Epel as...

Team Redpop!

Which team will you choose?

🏁Rules🏁

Everyone is allowed to race! Whether it's your OCs, yuusonas, or, heck, even rope your favorite canon NRC/RSA student into this mess! Everyone is welcome to participate in the mess that Ace and Deuce started.

You can participate in this event by making custom cards, general fanart, fanfics, whatever! Just no NSFW, please. This is a PG racing game!

If you decide to make anything for this event, please tag me and use #🍪rftcc. I'd love to see what you make!

And finally, this event has no deadline, so feel free to participate whenever!

🏁Outfits and Carts🏁

Since you will be racing, make sure your outfit is fit for the job! Make sure your character has a jersey, gloves, and a sweet theme!

For your character's theme, make sure it is based off of some sort of candy or sweet treat! The character must also have a matching cart, as well (if you're drawing them with one, that is). Try to stay away from actual candy brands, though! We wouldn't want a lawsuit on our hands!

The characters listed in the summary have their own cards and outfits! I listed them below so you don't accidentally copy their theme.

SSR Deuce (Blueberry Pie)

SSR Ace (Cherry Pie)

SR Ruggie and Epel (Donuts and bubblegum)

SR/R Idia and Silver (Slushies and marshmallows)

Also! If you're making a card, you may use the blank cards below!

🏁Racers🏁

Team Bluepuff

🍋Yuya Florence by @cheerleaderman

🍪Dias Feathenfool by @beezonia

🍓Robyn Starling by @pinkskytwst

💝Reese Kingbit by @kickasscentral

🍋Flori Mohn-Prinz by @bunniehunn

Team Redpop

💍Ryuuni by @rini-rambles

🎂Narcissa Viperoné by @beezonia

🍍Saya Starling (ART) by @pinkskytwst made by @dilatory-replies

🧸Cerise Fanfare by @0kiwisalad0

🎄Humm by @xxoomiii

⚫️ Leon Lynch by @readsrandomstuff67

🏁Fanart🏁

A little comic from @mello-bee

Art of the crew by @spade-12

Ruggie doing donuts by @mirioho

Ruggie fanart by @cheshanoneko-draws

🏁Fanfics🏁

Bet on the Teleportation by @spadecentral

🏁I look forward to seeing what you create!🏁

[calumfmu]

Bad Decision, Right?

You were new in town, guarded from the wandering eyes of everyone in Hawkins High. You had one rule, don't overshare, even if it was at the hands of Steve Harrington, certified asshole and heartthrob of the school.

8.7k+, 18+, mdni (!!!), steve harrington x fem!reader

cw: smut, angst, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral, fingering, swearing, you know the whole deal

You were new in town, the conversation of the hour at Hawkins High. It had barely been one week since you stepped into the school, and everyone knew your name—or lack thereof, you should say. “New girl, new girl” was all that you heard whenever you passed down the halls. You could barely keep your eyes from rolling into the back of your head whenever you heard the whispers around you.

You should be used to it, you suppose. It was your third time moving in six months. Your dad could barely keep a job at this point, and your mom hid her pain in the bottom of her wine glasses. Being at school was supposed to be your only escape from your home life, but with this small town, it only made it worse.

Being new and not getting close to people was your routine. Keep your head down, don’t speak to anyone, don’t even think of making friends. There was no point.

And that’s exactly what you told yourself when a teenage girl with a sandy brown bob was smiling at you as she leaned into the locker next to yours. She was wiggling her eyebrows at you, smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth. You ignored her, shoving books into the top shelf of your locker.

“Can I help you?” There was no venom behind your words, no snark, just boredom.

“You’re new here, right?” She smiled even wider, arms crossed over her chest as she took a look at you. You could feel her eyes trail up and down your body, as if she was trying to ‘figure you out’.

“No way! How’d you figure it out?” You pressed your lips in a faux smile as you glanced in her direction. You weren’t trying to be rude, but just like the other friends in the last few towns, there was no point in being nice either.

You focused heavily on the books in your locker, searching for the biochem book. There’s no way you had lost it already. It was only your 6th day of school.

“Mmm, I think I'm in like with you already,” the girl muttered, shaking her head seemingly in adoration at your dryness. You spared another glance at her, wondering why this girl wouldn’t let up. “I’m Robin.”

A hand shot in front of you, interrupting you in your search for that god forsaken text book. She—Robin—was waiting for you to shake it, eyebrows raised as you both sat in silence. Staring down at it, you contemplated your options. you could: 1) take it, make friends and forget about the constant cycle of losing them or 2) ignore it, just like you had with everyone else.

“Well, I'm not going to bite you,” Robin continued, forcing her own hand into your grasp to shake. Your hand was limp, and a small glimmer of something sat in your chest. She stood up straight, swinging her bag over her shoulder as she looked for something. Before you knew it, her own copy of that exact textbook you were searching for appeared in her hands as she held it in your direction.

You opted for silence, staring confused as she urged you to take it.

“We’re in the same class,” she said as you reluctantly grabbed the book from her hands. You stared down at the copy, chewing at your bottom lip as she swung her bag around her shoulders once again. You don’t do hand outs. “We don’t really use it that often, even if the teacher scared you into thinking we do. But i promise you’ll open it up maybe once.”

“Uhm, thanks.” Your voice was small as you ran your hands over the cover, finally glancing up at her. There you noticed her features, freckles gracing her face, black eyeliner on her bottom water line, smudged out. Wispy bangs hanging over her forehead, and that sweet smile on her face.

“Come on, you could sit next to me!” She closed your locker for you as she grabbed onto your arm, leading you the rest of the way to the classroom. Thoughts were racing your mind as the two of you made your way through the crowded halls of the school. You didn’t do this normally, you liked to keep your distance. It was the way things should be.

Just as the bell rang, you made your way into the classroom, following Robin as she found her stake at your normal double desk. It was in the corner of the room, normally just you sat at it with an empty chair next to you, highlighting the loneliness that echoed in your life.

You sat next to her, still eyeing her as she made herself comfortable. Her things—a single notebook and random pen with bite marks at the end—carelessly thrown in front of her. The teacher, whose name you couldn’t remember for the life of you began the lesson, a topic you had become extremely familiar with over the past few schools.

“So…” Robin whispered, leaning over to you. “Where are you from?”

“Uhh… around?” You didn’t know where to call home.

She quirked an eyebrow at you, tapping the pen on the desk. “Mysterious, I like it.”

You nodded in response, leaning forward on the desk as you tried to regain your focus on the teacher’s lesson. The conversation didn’t end there.

“How the fuck did you end up here? In Hawkins, of all places?!” She whisper-shouted the last of it, looking down when the teacher sent her a warning look. She mouthed ‘sorry’ and gave a half shrug as he side eyed her. She turned her gaze back on you once he had turned around. “Seriously, spill.”

Clearing your throat, you shrugged, “Your guess would be as good as mine at this point.”

She sighed, leaning in closer as it wasn’t a sufficient answer. “No, seriously, wha-“

“Miss Buckley, please.” The teacher’s voice boomed through the room, all eyes turning on the pair of you. You closed your eyes in embarrassment, hearing Robin mutter another apology, this time to the room.

The rest of the class was spent in silence between the two of you, you nor Robin saying anything to each other as the lesson continued. You were antsy, anxious to run right out of the room and escape the overly talkative girl you had just met. The end of the day was right there, your favorite time of the day where you could just hide from everyone and ignore the stares of others.

Right as the school bell rang, you grabbed your bag off the floor and began heading your way towards the door, ignoring Robin’s calls of your name and “wait!”.

You made your way through the halls, trying to find the comfort in the thought of your own home. It was hard to even do that. Robin suddenly cut in front of you, smile wide as ever as you were stopped in your tracks. Oh my god, you thought to yourself. I'm in a horror movie.

“yn!” She exclaimed, placing both of her hands on your shoulders. “Come with me! I have some people I’d think you’d like.”

“You know, really,” you attempted to make your way around her, smiling sheepishly as you thought of excuses. “I have somewhere to be, people, you know— waiting for me!”

A dead pan look crossed her face. “You and I both know you have no friends.”

ouch.

“So good thing you can meet mine!” That happy-go-lucky attitude returned once more as she grabbed your hand, leading you towards the Hawkins exit. You looked at the sky, begging something, anything to strike you down in that moment.

The two of you stopped at a maroon colored BMW, a group of teenagers gathered around. They were laughing, joking around at each other as one of them sat on the hood of the vehicle. He had long hair, styled in a similar fashion you would see on the cover of a magazine, and a dusty blue colored jacket, fitted with pockets and zippers over the front. He immediately caught your attention, his wide mouth stretched in a smile as he laughed at a brunette girl, throwing a piece of candy at him.

“Hey losers!” Robin shouted, bringing everyone’s attention to you two. The group's conversation halted, curious as they looked at you standing behind Robin, arms crossed over your chest. “I brought new bait!”

That same small brunette girl groaned, shaking her head. “Robin, I thought we talked about calling people that.”

Robin laughed, placing her hand on your shoulder as she brought you to the forefront. Anxiety crossed you as you could feel everyone’s eyes on you. You briefly closed your eyes again, sighing as she began introductions.

“yn, this is the gang, gang, this is-“

“We’re really not that either.”

“Shut it, Steve. You guys, this is yn,” Robin said, arm wrapped around your shoulder now. “that’s Nancy, Jonathan, Steve, and Eddie.”

They all gave waves and greetings in your direction, earning a small wave back.

“It’s lovely to meet you, yn,” Nancy smiled warmly, walking up to you so she could shake your hand. You took it, giving a small smile back. It was the most genuine one you had given in a while.

“Nice to meet you too, Nancy.”

They began to bring you into the conversation, asking questions of where you’re from and what brought you into town. You avoided all of them, answering in vague, short answers as you wished to stay anonymous. There was nothing really to tell them. What are you supposed to say? Oh, my dad’s gambler, moms an alcoholic, we move every few weeks because they think a new city is going to solve all their problems.

They seemed to catch on—well, Nancy did at least. You could see the silent nod of disapproval she gave to Robin and Eddie as they pressed you. They changed the subject once they picked up on it, choosing to ask you more impersonal questions. You liked her, you figured. She seemed genuine and sweet, someone who could truly read the room.

Robin was sweet too, but she was a little too much upon first impressions. She did seem like she cared about you, but in more of trying to be your best friend upon first meeting type of way.

The boy on the hood of the car—Steve— was more quiet. You kept glancing in his direction, eyes drawn to him as he included himself in the conversation. He quipped jokes back and forth with Eddie, shoving his shoulder when he made a joke that was “too far man!” or made an obscure reference to some random video game.

“So are you in, yn?” Robin's voice broke you from your thoughts.

“I'm sorry, what?”

You blinked in confusion, finding all pairs of eyes on you once again. You had zoned out, staring at Steve, not failing to notice the small smirk on his face. The sunglasses on his face hid his eyes, but you could only imagine the glint behind them as he realized what you were thinking. He raised an eyebrow at you, awaiting your answer like the rest of everyone else.

“Party tonight at Steve’s?” Robin answered, as you turned your attention towards her once again. You spared a glance at the boy, seeing as his attention was back to Eddie, a small conversation happening between them two.

“Oh- uhm, I really don’t do that.” A blush crossed your face.

“C’monnn, yn!” This time it was Eddie, elbow leaning against the beemer.

“No, I’m sorry, you guys.” You vehemently shook your head, taking a step backwards as if you were uninviting yourself.

"yn, yn, yn!" Eddie began a small chant, Robin following as she clapped her hands along to it. It was all too embarrassing for you, your face flooding with color as you weren't used to that type of attention.

"Okay, okay! Fine!"

You caved, raising a hand to stop their chant. Everyone cheered, clapping at your words. Robin was beaming at this point, wrapping her arms around your shoulders as she swayed back and forth. A small giggle escaped your lips, rolling your eyes at how excited this group of strangers were for you.

Everyone went into motion—Steve hopping off the car, Eddie waving goodbye to group, Nancy and Jonathan heading in the same direction of the parking lot. Robin turned towards you, smile ever present on her features.

"We could get ready together, yeah?" She asked, throwing her bag in the backseat of Steve's car. He slid into the driver's seat, starting the engine as Robin opened the passenger door. "Come on, get in. You can get ready at my house."

You stared at her holding the door open, thinking of the mistake you had already made even speaking to the weird group of friends. It wasn't too late to turn around, you could go your separate ways and not turn back.

Steve honked the horn, pulling you out of your thoughts. You saw him looking at you through the glass, sunglasses perched on the top of his head. His brown eyes met yours, and immediately, your heart sank. Bad decision #2.

You made your way to the back passenger door, sliding in as Robin held a smug look on her face.

"Good decision, rookie," she laughed, closing the door behind her as she settled into the seat.

As Steve pulled out of the high school parking lot, you couldn't help but think this is a feeling you could get used to. You shouldn't, but it was in the back of your mind. It was only going to last a few weeks if that, but you could, in theory, have fun while it lasted.

Robin's house was empty and quiet. Her room tucked in the back corner of the hall, a giant 'Keep Out' sign adorning the door. Covered in posters of movies you hadn't gotten a chance to see, her walls were a faint blue, barely being able to be shown as memorabilia covered the walls. There were framed pictures of her looking miserable in a band uniform, movie tickets thumb tacked to the walls, and polaroids of her and Steve throughout the room.

It had been a few hours since school had ended, the sun setting in the distance as time ticked closer towards the start of the party. Steve had dropped off the two of you, muttering a goodbye in your direction and a full farewell in Robin's. Something you were used to. They were a cute couple, you thought to yourself.

You examined them, walking slowly as the details of everything stood out to you. She was a little nerdy, but vibrant, her entire life spread out right in front of you.

"Do you want to borrow something?" She asked, ruffling her hair into place as she stared at you through the reflection of the mirror. You jumped, startled at she brought you out of your focus.

“Oh.” You looked down at your outfit, smoothing out the wrinkles in your denim jeans. “If that’s alright?”

“Yeah, of course, dummy,” she went over to her closet, throwing a few pairs of clothes on her bed for you to examine. You made your way over to them, fingers dancing over the fabrics.

It had been a while since you got anything new, you didn’t even know if the two of you were the same size. Your fingers stopped at a pink shirt, liking the satin feel against your skin.

“I like that one,” she whispered, closer to you than you had thought. You turned around, making eye contact with her. “I don’t really wear it often, you could have it if you want?”

“Oh, no! I-I couldn’t do that-”

She rolled her eyes, fake frustration showing through. “How many times are you going to keep saying no to everything?”

She grabbed the shirt and a random skirt lying next to it, shoving them in your hands as she began to push you in the direction of the bathroom.

“Go! Change! Wear it, it’s yours!”

Reluctantly, you complied, taking a step towards the bathroom across the hall. You closed the door behind you, taking off your shirt as you examined yourself in the mirror. You could roll your eyes at yourself, not recognizing the person in front of you as you slipped the clothes over you. They were nice against your skin, flattering your complexion as the fabric hung around your frame.

You exited the room, surprised at Robin standing right outside the door. She smiled at you, taking in the look of you in her clothes—well, yours now, technically.

"Stunning." She looked at you in appreciation as you fought back a smile, teeth digging into your bottom lip. "Now, c'mon, we're going to be late."

There were already crowds of people at the Harrington house, cars parked in the driveway and up the street, small groups of people walking up the walkway into the house. Music sounded out from the open front door as teenagers made their way in and out.

This wasn't your scene, you could already tell. It was going to be like a circus, seeing as everyone at school had already created a narrative about you. You could only imagine what they were going to say now.

You turned your head towards Robin, her hand at your wrist, pulling you in the direction of the front door.

"Maybe this isn't a good idea," you began, shaking your head as all the nerves you previously had filled your senses again.

"Nonsense, you loved my friends," she replied, continuing her way to the open door. Your feet felt heavy, dragging as the music became louder with every step.

"Robin—no, I'm serious."

A queasiness took over you, turning at your stomach as heads began to already turn your way. The two of you made your way through the front door, music and the sound of people overcoming you. You had heart palpitations, your chest pounding with every inch you took further into the house.

Her grip at your wrist felt like a vice, your thoughts suddenly thinking of how you should be home. Your mother would be worried sick at this point, who else would be there to check if this was the night that she drank too much?

"Eddie!" Robin suddenly exclaimed, letting go of your wrist as she ran towards the center of the room. You watched as she met up with the long haired man, throwing her arms around him as if she hadn't seen him hours prior.

In this moment, you made a dash for it. You tried to make it towards the front door, but a crowd of people entered just as that thought crossed your mind. They were cheering over something, loud voices scaring you away from that general vicinity. Every direction you looked, there were people.

Unfamiliar faces staring at you, making you feel like even more of a circus act than you were before. Begrudgingly, you made your way towards the staircase in the corner of the room, pushing through the throngs of people crowding the bottom of the stairs.

You had to push a few people off of you, their drunk advances calling after you, "Hey, it's the new girl!"

Every door you tried was locked or had a line of people behind it, freedom escaping you as you searched. White double doors at the end of the hall caught your attention as you walked up to them, trying the doorknob. You sighed in relief as they pushed open, solitude finding you once again.

You closed the door behind you, head leaning against the solid wood as you caught your breath.

"Fuck!" You yelled, kicking the frame before you turned to look around.

A giant king bed was in the center, pillars extending at every corner. Framed photos hung on the walls, Steve's face at the center with other members of his family in the photos. His parents' room, you figured. The only safe space away from the crowds of people.

You sat on the bed, kicking off your Mary Jane's as you leaned back to stare at the ceiling. Your heart was calming down at this point, no longer feeling the beat of it throughout your entire body.

I just have to wait it out. Robin will find me eventually, you thought to yourself.

As you lay in the giant bed, arms crossed over your chest, you began to doze off. The dull thud of the music was like a lullaby, loud, but more comforting than falling asleep to the sound of your parents arguing. As sleep overcame you, you could barely hear the steps leading up to the door or the sound of the door swinging open.

"What did I tell you guys about coming up he—oh, yn," Steve's voice sounded through the room, interrupting your slumber. You sat up on your elbows suddenly to look at him. "What're you doing here?"

You flushed in your face, sliding out of the bed to grab your shoes. You moved to walk past him, set on ignoring his questions. He blocked the door. Asshole.

"You literally invited me," you deadpanned, stepping to the side to go around him. He matched your step, a small smile crossing his face as he blocked you from leaving. Glaring up at him, you huffed.

"Obviously," he smirked, hand on his hip as he stared down at you. You broke eye contact with him, looking to your right as you debated how far of a jump the window would be to the ground level. Second stories can't be that high, right?

"I don't want to be here anymore," you sighed, glancing in his direction as he continued to stare down at you. You didn't notice the way his smile faltered. "The people are just—I can't deal with it."

"Why? Has anyone said anything to you?" He questioned, voice with a slight urgency behind it. You started up at him, confused at the tone behind his words.

"And why do you care?"

You were snappy, irritation showing through as you became defensive. His hands shot up, surrendering to your words.

"Hey, now, I'm just wondering," he answered, taking a step into the room. He still blocked your exit, noticing the way that you still eyed it like a cornered animal. "Any friend of Robins is a friend of mine."

Rolling your eyes, you maintained eye contact with him, butterflies inching into the depths of your abdomen. The nervousness was growing with every second his eyes stayed on yours.

"What do you want Steve?" There was something about his energy, the way he was studying you with his head cocked to the side, hands on his hips. You felt vulnerable in that moment, wanting to run and hide and cover your body. It was somehow worse than the hundreds of people in school staring at you.

"I don't like my parents too much either," he blurted out, catching you off guard. You furrowed your brow, shaking your head at him.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

You looked down at your sock clad feet, shoes still dangling between your fingers by the straps.

"I do," he answered, taking a step towards you. You instinctively took a step back, defenses prickling at the back of your neck.

"You don't know anything about me," you were whispering at this point, losing the words to say as he stepped out of the path of the door. There it was your exit plan, but you couldn't move.

"I do," he repeated, holding a hand out as if he were ushering you in that direction. "You have this look to you. I used to have it, too. I just got better at hiding it."

You were numb, eyes glancing between the door and him. His eyes were captivating, drawing attention even when it was unwarranted. His perfectly styled hair fell around his face, a single strand curled at his forehead. As his gaze continued to bore into you, the look on his face was serious, yet made the nervousness fade slightly with every continual look.

"The way you're always so quiet, just waiting for someone else to fill the silence, not bothering to give any information about yourself," he continued, breaking eye contact for the first time. You followed his gaze, noticing he was focusing on one of the family photos on the walls. "I had that same thing, look, feeling, whatever you want to call it. It never does get easier, but... you just have to pretend. Until it kinda works?"

As his speech continued, you toyed at the shoe straps in your hands. His words somehow comforted you, even if you did truly feel that he didn't know what he was talking about. His situation couldn't be similar to your own, so it was a lost cause for him to try and guess what was going on.

"You can go," he muttered, shaking his head as he looked away from the photograph. Steve ran a hand through his hair, looking at the open door behind him. "I just thought—maybe, a similar experience would help you."

You stared at the entry way, all efforts to run leaving through the door without you. Your feet made no effort to move, heartbeat a dull thud in your chest.

Steve sighed, turning around to leave himself once he saw that you were making no effort to leave.

"W-wait," you said, stopping him in his tracks. His hand was on the door frame, one foot out as his head turned to look at you. Curiosity crossed his features. "How do you pretend?"

He smiled, closing the door as he stepped back into the room. That should've scared you, but you couldn't be bothered. Steve was different from what you initially thought he was. Wasn't some asshole boyfriend of the girl you had just met. He did seem like he had a heart, so it made sense why him and Robin were close.

He ushered you to sit back on the bed, sitting across from you, knees barely brushing your own.

"You just do." His fingers pulled at the duvet cover, eyes glancing up at you through long lashes. "You try not to think about what you're going through too much. Distract yourself with people, even if the connections aren't genuine. That way you'll find people who actually do care. It's few and far between, but they are there."

Your voice faltered, "My connections never are genuine, always being the new girl. It sucks."

Steve laughed, nodding in agreement with your words.

"I'm sure it doesn't help, but you just have to try," he leaned on one elbow, body stretched out as his legs hung off the side of the bed. You averted your gaze from him, deciding that it was too much to stare at him in that position.

"When I met Robin, we were so different. She was this sarcastic, kind of mean person who laughed at my failures. Made me feel stupid for trying too hard," he laughed in between his words, shaking his head at the memory. "She made me realize that I didn't have to be a caricature of myself to fit in, I could be friends with who I want, and I shouldn't have to worry about what people think of me, especially my parents."

You nodded, smoothing out your skirt.

"She made me open up in ways that I hadn't before, leading me to make real friends who didn't care about who Steve Harrington was. They didn't care about my name, the popularity, any of that."

You examined him, noticing his dark blue shirt hugged his frame. Your eyes trailed over the shape of his chest, the way the shirt was stretched over his biceps. You shouldn't be looking at him in this way.

"She's lucky, you know," you said, folding your hands over your lap. Your arms were tight at your side, not moving in favor of thinking it would help you shrink in front of him. Steve quirked an eyebrow, questioning your words. "Robin, to have you as a boyfriend."

Steve laughed out loud at your words, shaking his head as his hand waved in the air.

"No, noooo," he laughed, hand running over his face. "She's not—no, I'm not really her type."

You were confused, words at a loss.

"We're just good friends, you could say," he chuckled low in his throat, blinking rapidly as he looked off into the distance behind you.

"Oh, I'm sorry," red crept over your features, blushing at the embarrassment of getting things so wrong. "So you're with Nancy, then?"

He laughed again, shaking his head even more rapidly than he did before.

"Yeah, that one didn't really work out," he grimaced, hand running over his left eyebrow. He winced as he seemed to think of a distant memory, fingers dancing over the bone there.

You nodded, curious about his gesture.

"S'just me," he shrugged, smiling up at you as you stared back down at him. "So, what is it about the mysterious yn that everyone wants apart of?"

You began to answer him, supplying details of the last few years of your life. It was the most comfortable you had been with a person, giving details that you swore you'd never give to another person. You mentioned your dad, his gambling addiction becoming worse and worse over the past year. Your mom finding her solutions in a liquor cabinet. How your problems were never enough for them since it wasn't an 'adult matter'. You didn't speak on it all, but with the details you provided, it was enough to give him an idea of you.

The conversation flowed well between the two of you, Steve providing his own details of his relationship with his dad. He had to live up to the Harrington name, even if he felt like he would never truly be able to do that. You found yourself laughing at his stories, even if there was sadness deep within it. He hid his pain with humor and a slight hint of flirting, if you could call it that.

"Hey, look, I think I have to go back downstairs," Steve said, sitting up from where he was lying on the bed. "Make sure everyone hasn't burned the place down."

You nodded, disappointment filling your chest as you realized this night was over.

"Yeah, I think I better head home myself," you reached down to grab your shoes, lay abandon on the floor besides the bed. You stopped in your tracks, Steve's hand coming to lay on your thigh. Glancing up at him, you found him inches away from your face.

His gaze fluttered down to your lips before looking quickly back to your eyes. Your breath hitched in your throat, all words just scrambled English in your mind.

As he leans into you, his lips brushed against yours, the taste of mint chapstick flooding your senses. The kiss was chaste, a quick brush of skin on skin that made your heart beat in your chest.

Your eyes were closed, briefly feeling the absence of his lips on yours before they crashed into you again. His mouth moved against yours, hand coming to rest against your cheek.

You let out a breathy sigh as the two of you moved in sync, feeling weightless in his grasp. He nibbled at your lip, other hand coming up to grab at your waist, pulling you closer to him.

Your fingers pull at his hair, breathless against his lips before he pulls away, placing one more quick peck at you. You felt numb, but this time, in a way that made you want to never leave his side. Your eyes fluttered open, fingers still tangled in his hair as he looked down at you.

"Don't be a stranger, yn," he whispered, placing one last peck on your lips before removing himself from you. He made his way to the door, glancing at you once last time with a smile on his face before he exited, closing it behind him.

You groaned, shoving your face into the duvet cover as you realized what had happened. Bad decision #3.

The next few weeks of classes went surprisingly well, and you found yourself listening to Steve's words in every interaction you dealt with. Of course, you were still the 'new girl' to most people, but you dealt with it in grace. You ignored strangers' advances into the details of your life, just telling them information about the last town you were in compared to Indiana.

Your friendship with the group became closer, Robin becoming your right hand in every interaction. She became less invasive in your information, but protective of you nonetheless. It was a bond like nothing you had experienced in the last few years, a feeling of a home you had never had settling over you.

Your relationship with Steve had blossomed into something you weren't quite sure what to call it. In front of the group, it was platonic, stealing glances at each other when you were sure no one was looking. His hand always seemed to graze over yours during the 'right' moments, catching your breath in your throat as you stumbled through the sentences you were saying to your new found friends.

In private, it was something else. Steve pushing you against a wall, pulling you into the nearest closet, cornering you in the bathroom at Nancy's place, any place to leave you breathless as his lips found yours in a fever never seen before. His fingers roaming your body as wet, hot kisses were placed wherever he could find stake. You found yourself day dreaming of those moments, mind fleeting the conversation at hand amongst others.

And that's where you found yourself now, pressed in the backseat of Steve's BMW, shirt half unbuttoned as his hand grasped at your breast, mouth pressed into your jawline. He lay between your open legs, rutting against you as you moaned breathlessly.

"F-fuck Steve," you arched into him, hand pulling at his clothes, urging him to come closer.

You two were supposed to be in 3rd period by now, sneaking off as you couldn't keep your hands off of each other. It was barely 9 am, but whenever you could find the time, the two of you snuck off, hoping to go unnoticed.

Your skirt was hiked up to your waist, exposing your red panties. His tight-in-the-front jeans pressed against you, all in the right and wrong places. Your hands roamed under his shirt, feeling his heat underneath your palms.

"Yeah, baby?" He moaned against your skin, hand coming up to lace through your hair. He pulled tight, guiding your mouth to his once again. He groaned against your mouth, hips grinding against yours.

You mewled in response, fingers pulling at his waistband as you urged him to take them off. The two of you hadn't gotten that far yet, but you were becoming more ready with every interaction the two of you had.

"Steve, fuck, m-more."

Your fingers found the button of his jeans, trying to undo it blindly as you moaned against his mouth. You felt him smirk against your lips, nibbling at the skin.

"Look at you, princess," he muttered, pulling away to see you in a breathless state. Your hair was a mess, fanned out behind you as you were pressed into the leather of his seats. "Such a mess for me."

Your fingers continued working at the button, finally freeing it as you were able to slip your hand down the front of his pants. Just as you grazed the bulge behind his boxers, the two of you heard the bell ring, signalling the end of the class period.

"Fuck!" You closed your eyes, fingers stopping in their tracks. Steve pulled off of you, leaning in the opposite direction as he moved to adjust himself in his pants.

You watched as he rebuttoned his jeans, fixing his shirt and the rumple in his clothes. He watched you while doing so, smile playing at his lips.

He leaned down briefly, pecking your lips once more before pulling away. You sat up, trying to chase his lips as he settled down. Placing a hand on your inner thigh, his eyes raked over your figure, lingering on the exposure of your panties in view.

"Gotta save it for later, babe," he whispered to you, thumb reaching out to pull at the band of your underwear.

Huffing in annoyance, you sat up to fix yourself, adjusting your clothes as you realized the moment was over. "When later?"

Steve was smiling, pulling his black jacket over his polo. He winked at you, dazed look on his face.

"We're just going to have to find out, babe."

"What the fuck happened to you?" Robin exclaimed, hand coming up to touch your neck before you smacked your hand away. You covered your neck with your hand, heat flooding your cheeks as a blush creeped in. "You looked like you've been mauled."

"I-I think I burned myself this morning. You know, straightening my hair," you muttered, pulling your hair over your shoulder as you covered it. Robin's eyes tightening, squinting at you as you avoided her eyeline.

"You don't straighten your hair," she deadpanned, arms coming to cross her chest.

"Oh my God, did I not tell you? I just learned how to. This morning, actually," you smiled at her, fawning innocence.

Her eyes were small as she stared at you, making you feel smaller and smaller under her inspection.

"Yn."

"Robin."

The two of you started at each other, you with a fake smile covering up your lies and her with a serious expression, making you crumble.

Steve suddenly appeared between the two of you, arms coming up to rest at each other's shoulders as he pulled the two of you into his sides.

"And what are my two favorite ladies up to?" His smile was big, still moving off of the confidence he had earlier in the backseat of his car. Robin rolled her eyes, gaze glancing at you as the three of you made your way to his car. It was the end of the day, students fleeting the school as the hallways became more and more empty.

"Yn, here... she was attacked by a wild animal, the teenage boy kind, and won't tell me what happened," she answered, annoyance clear in her words.

"Robin!" Your eyes were wide, hand coming up to grab at your neck once more.

You felt Steve look down at you as his arms left your shoulders. He had a slight smirk, glancing down at the assault on your neck before settling on your eyes.

"Oh?" He was terrible at pretending.

"Yes! Steve, can you believe that?" Robin muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. "She's keeping secrets again."

You rolled your eyes, huffing as Robin wouldn't let it go. The three of you found your way into the parking lot, making your way towards the vehicle you had become quite acquainted with during the last few weeks. You blushed looking at it, knowing what had occurred earlier.

"Secrets, huh?" Steve answered, unlocking the doors as you all made your way into it. You sat in the backseat, back thrown to your side as the memories of earlier began to cross your mind. He looked at you through the rear view mirror, noticing the way you squeezed your legs together. "I do love a good secret myself, don't you, Robin."

"Uh huh."

"Steve!"

He chuckled, starting the engine as you turned to look out the window. You watched as the school became smaller in the background, the streets of Hawkins passing by faster and faster.

"I'm just saying yn, I would tell you," Robin said, throwing her feet on the dash. Steve complained, hitting her ankle with a free hand, only to be ignored by the brunette. "Whoever it is, I just hope he's serious about you. I don't want you to get hurt."

You were quiet, eyes focused on the passing buildings. You didn't know what to say, not wanting to speak for Steve.

"I have a feeling he is," Steve supplied, meeting your look in the rear view mirror as you suddenly turned. Your heart was fast in your chest. "You're beautiful, yn. Any guy would be stupid to not be serious about you."

"Thank you Steve!" Robin sighed, throwing her hands in the air as the car pulled in the front of her house. She turned towards you, reaching out to place a hand on your knee. "Seriously, yn. I just want you to be safe."

She grabbed her bag by her feet, placing it in her lap as she reached for the door hand.

"Now, c'mon... I have so much to tell you about today."

You reached for your own bag, only to be interrupted by Steve's voice.

"Oh, yn, you wanted me to drop you off at yours, right?" He questioned, glancing back at you as confusion crossed your features.

"Uhh... n-"

"I swore you told me that earlier this morning," his eyebrows raised, tapping his fingers against the wheel. Confusion settled into your face as you didn't know what he was talking about. "You had something you needed to do at home. Finish what you started, I think you said."

Oh.

Robin stood outside the door, it ajar as she looked between you guys. She was confused, sighing as she swung her bag over her shoulders.

"Whatever, losers," she left the door open, watching as you made your way to the front seat, core tightening as you thought of what was to come. "You owe me, yn. I need details immediately on whoever did that to you."

You nodded, tucking in your legs as she made her way to the front door, closing it behind her. You sat in silence for a bit, smile on your face as you watched Steve start the car on the trek to his place.

"Finish what I started, yeah?" You smiled at the man in front of you, him turning his head as he continued the drive. He didn't answer you, instead moving his hand to rest on your knee.

As the drive continued, you couldn't help, but find happiness in the place you sat. It was the most content you had been in years, finding comfort in the once stranger you sat with. This boy had caught you by surprise, tugging at your heartstrings in a way you didn't realize possible.

"Coming, yn?" He asked as you hadn't realized he was stopped at his place. Your stomach dropped, staring at the house in front of you. He was the only car in the drive way, a normal thing he had mentioned to you countless times.

"Hey," he whispered, leaning over to you as he placed a small kiss on your lips. His large hands were placed on both of your cheeks, thumbs rubbing circles against the skin. "We don't have to do anything you don't want, okay?"

You nodded, your own hands reaching up to be placed on top of his. You began to follow him inside, your first time being at his place since the party a few weeks back.

His room was big, smaller than his parents, but a picture of exactly what you thought it was going to be. He threw himself on the bed, leaning up on his elbows as you stood there at the foot of it.

"Come 'ere," he held out a hand, urging you closer to him. You complied, placing your hands and knees onto the bed as you crawled up to him. He guided you between his open legs, your stomach pressed against his as his lips found yours.

"Just stop me whenever, okay?" His eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of doubt between them. Finding only reassurance, he placed his lips on yours, leaning back into the bed as you settled into him.

His mouth moved slow, hands moving down to rest where your thighs met the curve of your butt. You moaned into his mouth, feeling the way your skirt was pushed up.

"'S that okay?" he muttered, licking into your mouth between his words.

You nodded, moving so you straddled him. His gaze darkened, fingers finding the hem of your blouse as he pulled it off of you. The cold air of the room hit your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

His hands moved to cup at your breasts, slipping underneath the fabric of your bra.

"You're beautiful, you know that, babe?" He whispered into the air, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra. You were exposed now, feeling so vulnerable under his gaze as his eyes undressed you further.

Reaching down, you pulled at his own shirt, feeling the muscles of his body tense as he leaned up to take it off. You leaned down, pressing your mouth to his once more. His tongue found its way into your mouth, sliding into yours with a sharp groan.

Your hips rutted against each other, your skirt hiked up to your hips for the second time today. A wet patch grew in the front of your panties, the red material becoming sticky with desperation.

He separated himself from you, flipping so you lay down on the bed. His fingers worked on his jeans, unbuttoning them before sliding them down his thighs. Throwing them across the room, he returned his body to yours, kissing down your jawline.

Your hips had a mind of their own, rutting into him with feverishly. You gasped at his kiss down your neck to your chest, mouth encompassing your hard nipple.

He moaned as his tongue worked the nerves there, eyes glancing up to your face to gauge a reaction. You were a mess, throwing your head back into the pillows as his tongue moved along your skin.

"F-fuck, Steve, need you." Incoherent phrases left your lips, mouth babbling with every move he made.

He giggled, tongue leaving your nipple as he kissed your stomach. Your skirt was pushed to your belly button at this point, his fingers pulling at the band of your panties as he made his way towards your core.

Placing a kiss over your clothed clit, he glanced once more up to you, "'M gonna make you feel so good, princess."

You moaned as he pulled your underwear off, legs widening as his tongue worked over your folds, darting out as it grazed over your fluttering hole. Your hips bucked into his face, his hand reaching out to press your hips into the bed.

Arching your back, you mewled as he sucked at your clit, free hand coming up to press a digit to your entrance.

"Need you inside," you muttered, reaching down to grab at his hair as he continued to lick at you. Two of his fingers pushed inside, your slick easing the way.

As he curled them inside you, tongue relentlessly hitting the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top, you moaned louder and louder. That explosive orgasm was approaching you fast, tightening your core as he fingered you senselessly.

He moaned against you, feeling the way you released more slick against his fingers deep inside you.

"So wet, princess," he muttered against you, eyes gazing at you through his assault at your clit. You moaned, arching your back as he continued to tongue fuck you.

"'M close, Steve," you groaned, guiding his face further into you. He moaned in agreement, covering your nub with his mouth as he sucked hard and fast.

It started at your spine, the orgasm taking over your senses as you arched into him. His fingers didn't slow down, fucking you through it as its intensity grew. Pleasure rippled through your body, your breath coming in fast pants as you lost all words to say.

As your high came to an end, he left your heat, leaning up to kiss you. You tasted yourself on his lips, moaning at the wetness on his chin.

"Taste so good, baby," Steve whispered, reaching down to take off his own boxers. You looked down, seeing the weight of it pressed into your stomach. Fuck, he was big. "Just had to share."

His words immediately sent a wave of heat to your abdomen, pussy dripping with need as your orgasm wasn't enough. You needed this man.

You widened your legs, breathless as he hooked your ankle over his hips. His cock nudged at your entrance, pressing against the tight hole as you started into his eyes.

"Okay baby?" He asked, leaning on his elbow as that same hand brushed hair out of your face.

"Need you, Stevie."

He groaned at your words, pushing in slowly as you both moaned at the intrusion. There was a burn, the stretch slow but enough as you pulsed around his cock.

Stopping at the hilt, his hips were flush against yours. He leaned down to breath out into your hairline, hips slightly stuttering as he fought the urge to fuck into you.

"Feel so good, baby, fuck," he was breathless, words sounding caught in his throat. "So fucking tight, baby."

Your nails clawed at his back, face pressed into the hair at his chest as he breathed heavily.

"'M gonna move, okay, baby?"

You nodded, digging crescent shaped marks into his skin as his hips reared back before pressing into you again. The head of his cock rubbed against a bundle of nerves deep within you, leaving the two of you breathing heavy, urging small uh uh uh's out of you.

He pressed small kisses into your hairline, hips rutting into yours over and over as you arched into him. You both were close, fighting the urge to cum instantaneously.

The movement of his hips became sloppy, the slapping of skin echoing through the room, drowned out by the animalistic noises leaving your mouth.

"Fuck, I'm so close, sweetheart," he moaned, pressing his lips into yours. Your noises were swallowed by him, another orgasm overtaking you as he fucked you through it.

You felt yourself throb around him, a low groan escaping his lips as he released deep inside you. His orgasm was loud, him moaning into your mouth as he teeth dug into your bottom lip. The pain of it only made you cry out more, your hands finding his hips as he rode it out.

He groaned one last time, hips stopping before he pulled out of you, the wet noise sounding loud in the room. You grimaced at his absence, leaning over so you could cuddle into his side.

Steve laughed, pressing a kiss to your temple as he wrapped his arms around you.

"I've got you, princess," he muttered, mouthing at you. You closed your eyes, ear pressed to his chest as you listened to the beat of his heart. Calmness took over you, a warm feeling settling into your core as you lay in his arms.

The bad decision you had once made in talking to him ended up being the best thing you could've done. The boy in your arms was everything and more you had wanted, you had needed in your life. Every mistake you had once thought you made was perfectly clear in this moment, leading you to the wonder that was Steve Harrington.

His breath sounded shallow, slow drags of air being taken as you settled into his arms. You thought of him asleep at this moment as you cuddled into him.

"I love you, Steve Harrington," you whispered into the quiet of the room. He made no move, his breath did not falter. You sighed, closing your eyes as you were set on sleep.

Moments passed, the sounds of the two of your breathing being the only thing you could hear for what seemed like ages.

"I love you too, yn."

Steve's whisper back, sent your heart racing again as you moved to look into his eyes. He was smiling at you through hooded eyes, blinking slowly. You pressed your lips to his before pulling away, staring into him once more.

I could enjoy this while it lasted, you thought to yourself. What's the harm in this?

[writers-potion]

What is the fastest way to improve greatly at writing?

Fast-Forwarding Your Writing Skills

Developing your writing skills take only two things: READ A LOT, WRITE A LOT.

The question is, how do you read a lot and write a lot, in a relatively short period of time?

The first rule: don't give up. It may seem really slow now, but everyone can get better at writing. I know this advice is really stale, but it's one that I've told myself over and over again - just so that I can push through another slow evening.

Here are some things I have tried to get better at writing:

Memorizing quotes/passages/poems that I like. The things that I memorize would come back to me when I'm stuck mid-sentence, and I would try to do something similar. Sounds like plagiarism? Well, copying other authors' styles and mix-matching them is actually an important process of finding your own voice.

Conducting a "plot analysis". I was inspired by the method outlined in the book for this one. After you finish a book, make a list of all the scenes and try placing them into a three-act structure. This will help you (1) familiarize yourself with plot dynamics that work (2) understand your genre better.

Reading a book more than once. Honestly, all of my first reads are just for the story. I gobble the plot up, without paying attention to anything much. On my subsequent reads, I'm able to pay more attention to the way descriptions are done, or how the chapters are divided, etc.

Copying a book by hand, word-by-word. So far the most inefficient method (haha), but this exercise does help you pay A LOT more attention to how the author is using diction, syntax, dialogue, etc. to actually "construct" a book.

I hope this helps! :) If you're reading this and have tips of your own, please comment! >>

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

💎If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! Also, join my Tumblr writing community for some more fun.

💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2 

[ts4-poses]

NEWS Fairies are here! One little note for posing with fairies, is that the wings will disappear if you use the teleporter statue. (I'm not sure if it happens with MCCC teleporter too, I have to test that out). To show the wings for your pose, pose your fairy and then use the Pose Alignment mod or even the teleporter mod from @johnbaccarat (check his page!) (It's a lifesaver!) Are you tired of understanding T.O.O.L. mod for your poses and don't want to use the move/rotate function on WW poseplayer? There is an easier way to move/rotate your posed sims! Try the mod 'Pose Alignment Interactions' here

Tip from me: There is a huge increase of boosty-links these days, but since you have to make an account to download and this website still has some trust issues, I would advice you to NOT make an account with your main e-mail you use for everything. Make a sims-cc-e-mail for example, since you have to make an account almost everywhere these days! Be safe on the internet lovelies! THE QUEUE IS LONG! PLEASE BE PATIENT <3 I don't share early access poses until the early period is over! (don't paywall your holiday poses until after the holiday!!)

KNOWN POSEBUGS Eyelids Eyelids are still not fixed by EA after the Lovestruck patch, so it could be that eyes are not entirely closed in many poses due to this EA bug.

PLEASE UPVOTE THIS TOPIC Thank you for the immense response! Child/toddler/infant height presets Child/toddler/infant height presets for poses are sadly, after the Business and Hobbies update, broken. Topic to upvote HERE (@/electricwhims found a workaround for their newborn infant preset, so this works for poses again! Make sure to download the updated preset again!)

New here as a pose creator? Please tag the page (a good @ts4-poses tag in your post will work if you are not shadowbanned, hashtags don’t always work but I follow several tags), or submit your posepack through the submit form. I don’t always have time to always check all the pose creators who are not tagging, so please make it easier for me doing so! Am I not reblogging your posepacks? Make sure you don’t copy tags from earlier posts, but type them in every new blogpost! If you do that and still are not being reblogged, you are probably shadowbanned and are not popping up in my notifications. (Send a message to tumblr support!)

Rules for reblogging I don’t reblog permanent paywalled poses, blender only poses or posepacks with months of early access. If you have a normal early access policy (due to EA their rules) I will reblog your posepack after the early access period is over. Because if you wanna find that perfect pose to use for your story/post/edit you want to use it right away, right?

Make sure you put your downloadlink above any cut

I have everything backed up from 2024 on, so if anything is lost from that time, please let me know. I will upload it in the Lost Poses section. Please let me know too if a link or post is dead. (You can due through message or the submit form!) I sadly can’t reply every ask for certain poses you are looking for, since I’m doing this on my own and we have over 24k posepacks here! <3

Links that are helpful!

Everything posing you should know

The pose creator discord

Lost poses section (if you have anything from these creators that is not uploaded here yet? Please send me it!)

How to use poses?

Deco sims tag!

[oh-no-its-bird]

Someone ( @ohai-there ) asked me if I had any thoughts ab mdtb weeks "cultural differences" prompt, so, like, take just the copy pasted reply I gave them (+ some extra) :

I was up all night drawing birthday art and am this 👌 close to blacking out for x amount of hours so this risks being nonsensical fair warning

Uhhh culture shock my beloved, let's seee

Easy answer is the senju are very touchy feely, easily and willingly sleeps around (they face a lot less risk of bloodline theft due to rarity of the mokuton so there isn't as much ingrained cultural fear of being assulted/facing the baby shaped consequences of sleeping around willy nilly)

They can take multiple spouses and it's actually rare for the head of house to have only one wife (Hashirama is an exception bc Mito is a Princess(tm) and so to take another wife would risk offending her own clan culture, he is fine with this and they possibly often take others to bed with them just for funzies (potential hashimitoizu noises(?)))

Uhh anyways so that, they're super liberal with touch, etc. Etc.

Also they don't really do crazy deep romance and are super used to casual no strings attached flings, you have to make yourself VERY clear in what you're doing if you want to actually start a fr relationship bc otherwise many "courtship" behaviors are just like. Casual, culturally acceptable flirting and invitations to bang (the senju have a 101 different ways to proposition eachother in flower language alone.)

Meanwhile the Uchiha are on the total opposite side of the spectrum— they're like super conservative (In contrast to the Senju not having an ingrained fear of bloodline hunters, their very valuable and very vulnerable kekkei genkkei makes them prime victims, which has lead them having generations of trauma fueled insane abstinence lessons)

+ They're a noble clan and regularly interact with the Daimyo's court, so there's even more etiquette culture ingrained into them so they can send anyone into court if needed (While the Senju, who are NOT a noble clan, only ever send their main house, and so only they have to even worry about court etiquette)

They do not believe in divorce, they do not believe in political marriages (tho they do happen very very rarely, it's seen as very sad and tragic when it does) they... sometimes believe in multiple spouses, in specific situations (they can't regularly interact w the daimyo's court and not have to face it as a concept, after all)

So like. Super up tight, hella rules about how to show affection and proper ways to conduct yourselves, months long courting rituals before u even get to kissing, to sleep together before marriage is SINFUL

But they're ALSO super fucking romantic and absolutely insane about having soulmates and one true loves and are just super intense ab all that romance stuff where the senju are super relaxed in it

I think u see where this is going

Anyways uhhh

They make a village and there's tons of culture shock

Then Tobirama, being Tobirama (standoffish and cold, not especially interested in the usual wild Senju sex parties or whatever tf kind of events they're hosting in the gardens) is like, among the most "normal" to the Uchiha (from a cultural standpoint)

And bc of that, Madara maybe interacts w him more like "well he's kind of awful but at least he's not a sex FREAK like the rest of these Senju WHORES"

Umm Madara tries to court Tobirama but Tobirama sees it as him only trying to bang (?)

Which he possibly doesn't even want to do

Tobirama is like "Ah man, if only he were interested in actual courtship, but he has only given me the Senju flowers of "I wish to ravish you in the fields" and not the senju flowers of "I am potentially interest in maybe going on a date" (a proposition that a)he received not too infrequently, and so was not odd, and b) he politely rejected by accepting the flowers then showing Madara that he had planted it in red soil)

Meanwhile, Madara is like. "Wow this courtship is going so great he's accepting all my Uchiha flowers of pure devotion and innocent love in bloom"

Just in general, their clans having different flower meanings could be funny actually. The Uchiha regularly interact with court so I think they'd have to have, like, "normal" flower meanings (or else theres be some implications there of how theye gotten so far while using incorrect flower meanings in genuinely important events) so that means its the Senju who have odd meanings for flowers-- which also works, bc, like, mokuton

however many years ago, a previous descendant with mokuton told his clansmen the ""real"" meaning of these flowers,,, u wouldnt get it,,,

Another fun route could be, like, the Uchiha method of declaring ones intentions to court someone also happens to be the Senju's method of declaring a feud.

Madara tries to flirt with Tobirama only for Tobirama to understand this as Madara telling him to his face that the peace may be ongoing but he'll always hate his bitch ass !!!

[shifteruncensored]

i am TIRED everyone out here throwing "shifting advice" around like it's some universal law or some shit !!!!!!!! like nooo pls stop. a lot of this advice is so ridiculously fucking generic too……it's kinda insulting? like no one is taking ownership of their truth. no one's even TRYNA own it, everyone's just replicating or copying the same boring ass rulebook that isn’t even really relevant to them (for attention most of the time…)

i just want to SCREAM sometimes bcs nowdays people act like there's ONE way to approach shifting & if you don't do it their way …..oh brother!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! they act like you are doing it WRONG or something. but honestly fuck no. because of that nobody has the courage to WRITE their own damn rulebook. people are starting to be too afraid to be messy or different or like really REAL with what works for THEM bcs of some bs some creators keep parroting.

i just feel like most people should throw all that "do this, do that" crap out the window and MAKE your OWN rules. yes make your own insane crazy rulebook that doesn't necessarily make sense to anybody else but YOU. prioritize yourself.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! bcs shifting is fucking personal. how many times must it be said for you to finally acknowledge that……………even my advice is my own takeaway, my thoughts at the moment, and that's it. i'm not some guru with some perfect fucking guide.

and that's the damn point. nobody's got all the perfect answers that will work for everyone in the shifting community. stop messing around trying to fill up someone else's damn mold. blow it up! burn it! fucking rewrite that shit! do whatever the hell you want. just don't listen to that cookie cutter crap that makes you feel unimportant or stupid or lost or not enough.

pls just be you. stop trying to wear someone else’s skin. be the author of your own damn story. even if it is crazy. even if it is weird as fuck. even if you don't have everything figured out. i see so many people trapped trying to follow someone else's "rules" that don't even resonate with their soul. with who they are. all for the sake of shifting. it’s fucking sad….

this isn't me saying don't take advice though!!!!!!!!!!! pls do if it helps !! ask questions, experiment w/ shit, learn from people!! some advice really can change everything.

BUT!!! and it’s a big ass BUT 🍑 don't act like the advice your getting is law or a needed requirement. it's just one person's experience. not the word of the almighty shifting god (just kidding but you get what i am trying to say right?) take what you like & leave what you don't. remix it. break it. ignore it if you don't like it.

you get to make your own rules. you should. shifting is a personal journey FOR YOU. no one knows you more than you.

so plueasseeeeee create your own damn rulebook. and if someone's gonna come at you and tell you what to do? laugh in their fucking face because they don't know shit about YOUR truth.

[fullofgutsndopamine]

prompt: " don't judge, but we were out of clean onesies, so i dressed the baby in that huge old t-shirt you got at that concert five years ago. if i'm being honest, it suits them! "

they/them pronouns for reader, use of ‘mama’ one mention of “my girl” hasan is a girl dad, i don’t make the rules

how quiet it was when you opened the door should’ve been hasan’s first warning.

“honey?”

he calls, kicks his shoes off into the corner of the room, sets the keys on the hook by the door and starts his usual routine of trying to find you.

he begins where you usually are, your favorite room in the house is the kitchen, cooking has always been your love language, looking up extravagant new foods to try. you’ve always said your favorite thing to cook was what the person in the rooms favorite thing was, and hasan loved when you slid a plate over to him, acting like he didn’t see you working hard on it all day.

no luck. he nibbles his lip, borders on being worried, because this is your room, where you always are-

“honey?” he calls, his hand on the banister as he slowly trudges up the stairs, figures giving the shared room of hours a chance

usually, if he isn’t home, you aren’t here. insist the room is too large without him, the bed too big and lonely and cold; when he isn’t home, the door to the room stays shut, wait until he gets home to sit on the bed and do laundry with him as he talks about his day

he nudges the door open, and there you are.

“baby?” he leans against the doorframe, a smirk on his face, “what’s going on?”

“look,” you say immediately, a grin on your face as you hold your daughter up, who lets out a gentle coo, a smile always on her face, has hasan’s smile even though he insists she’s a copy of you, not him, “don’t judge-“

he laughs, comes over and takes the baby out of your arms, immediately has the little bundle in his own arms as he rocks her carefully, she reaches for the mop of curls on his head

“no judgment,” he laughs gently, “i missed my girls, is all-“

he pulls on the shirt she wears, practically swallows her, and a laugh rips out of him

you huff, but a smile is on the corner of his lips, “we were out of clean onesies, so i dressed the baby in that huge old t-shirt you got at that concert five years ago. if i'm being honest, it suits them! "

he remembers.

it was the concert he met you, when you made some comment to your friend about people being too tall at concerts, and how he held his phone up during it, titled it so you could see the show, turned to you halfway through, when he found some confidence, and let you stand in front of him, until your favorite song came on, and suddenly your hand was tangled into his and while he didn’t know the song, didn’t really even know the band-it was your favorite song, so it become his favorite song, as he spun you around and around

you left the small venue sweating, hand in hand with hasan, a perfect stranger, who had a band shirt over his shoulder, insisted you took it, insists it suited you-it took months for you to find the note he tucked into your jeans as you said goodbye with his phone number in it, but he waited for you-

“it does suit her,” he laughs, “kinda sentimental it’s hers now, hm?”

his eyes border on tearing up as he plays gently with the seam of the shirt, thinking of that stupid band, and how he’s grateful the band brought you, and eventually this baby-

“don’t get sappy on me now, hasan.” you tease gently, rest your chin on his shoulder as you gently tickle your daughters belly

“that band fucking sucks,” he laughs, blinking away any tears, shakes his head and sniffles, “i won’t ever make her listens to them.”

you snort, slap his arm gently, “oh fuck off, hasan. you loved them-“

“no, no, honey,” he laughs, “you liked them, so i tolerated them because they meant you.”

your face flushes, even though he’s told this story a million times, it doesn’t ever stop making your stomach flutter, “that’s not what you said during our first dance when you were crying.”

your hands play with his hair as he rests your daughter against his shoulder, patting her on her back as he dances in place with her, “i was crying because something was stuck in my eye, i told you. confetti, i think-“

“sure, and i definitely didn’t hear you singing it to her just last night.” you tease back.

you walked by the room in the middle of the night when she woke up crying, hasan is immediately up first, his voice gentle as he reassures her, “shh. Papas here. Shh. let’s see.”

and the opening to the song is always immediately falling off the top of his tongue, a smile pulls on his lips as he recites the song by heart, how he’s sung it at every milestone-the wedding, while he sang it to you as you too swayed back and forth-the first night at the house when everything scared you, the way to the hospital it was the first song he played, his lips pressed to your head as he mumbled it in the middle of contractions-

“no idea what you’re talking about,” he insists, doubles down, “c’mon, honey. let’s make mama some tea.”

he leans in, a kiss to your forehead, part of the routine to make you tea as you sat on the couch with him, a cup of warm tea in your hands as you shared your day, as he disappears, humming the song as he goes.

[wachtelspinat]

do you have any advice, resources or practices you recommend for making your art more expressive? I adore how you push expressions and body language, and the way it keeps its weight is phenomenal! I wanna learn how to do that, too!

hey thank you so much <3

one of the most important things that i've learned on my way and that i've kept in my mind ever since is what makani states in [this post] sometimes i go into a drawing and just try to construct it bit by bit, only to realize that the eyes don't fit the mouth etc... then i remember to treat it all as ONE expression and (second very important lesson incoming) i erase everything and start anew (i know it feels bad to just delete a sketch of a head (you don't have to delete it right away, you can always just take another layer) but believe me it not only saves you tons of time, you also learn more when you just start over from scratch. the thing i do is as follows, i keep the bad sketch open and try to figure out what i don't like about it, and put extra focus in those areas in the new sketch. like i think the eyes were too dull in the first try? the solution is to draw them open even wider, turn up that expression a nodge, try to "bend" it). i know this sounds exhausting, you might think isn't it easier to just try to fix the first sketch? i thought so too for many years, but believe me, if you don't like it, start a new one. you will always be amazed on how good it can turn out (and, as said before, the benefit of analyzing your own art and trying to figure out what went wrong and fixing it in a new attempt is HUGE.)

third thought on this is "don't be afraid to push the boundaries". like i grew up being a huge ren & stimpy fan as a kid, i love classic cartoons, i love exagerated expressions so much, eyes popping out, sweat drops flying around, over the top visualisation of feelings. that's my shit (pizza tower i'm looking at you). then on the other hand i also love things feeling palpable and real, hence the weird mix of my style i guess... what i want to say is: don't be afraid to push your expressions a bit. not only is it fun, with the right balance it really adds to it all (in regards of body language and facial expressions likewise).

and last but not least, so important: use references. i often take photos of myself doing weird gestures just to see how the mouth or the eyes would look like for a specific expression, how the nose wrinkles, how the shoulder come up when trying to visualize that someone is tense etc etc. use ref, please, not only photos but also drawings, try to figure out how other artists translate certain gestures in their art, how can you stylize this (everything ofc without copying directly from them... like for personal practice everything is cool and chill, but respect the rules of the artist community)

it is hard to pinpoint down how everything we do in our art lives comes down to what we draw at the end of the day, like everything i post, how it looks, is the result of almost 2 decades of drawing with a purpose, but i hope this helps a bit.

[tethys-the-aquatic-sea-godness]

Sarevok's image in Baldur's Gate and how he uses it

Among the numerous misrepresentations of Sarevok's character in BG3, is how he came into power. Of course, properly showing that would also show that the new villain's great master plan is just a rip-off of his, but let's ignore that. Obviously, Sarevok's stunt in Baldur's Gate becomes infamous, and he, rightfully, doesn't have a good rep in the city. That being said, it wasn't always the case, yet all you'll see in BG 3 is a brutish villain that only knows violence and 'mURdEr'. Yes, spelled like that, yes.

More rambling under the cut.

The thing was that, prior to Charname exposing his plan, Sarevok had become truly popular in Baldur's Gate. Let's remember the set-up back then. The Iron Throne is a shady mercantile organisation from Sembia. A new western division is trying to take root in the Sword Coast, led by Rieltar Anchev.

Their plan goes as follow: they aim to create a misinformation campaign to blame the Zhentarim for all the troubles in the region. They worsen tensions between the governments of Baldur's Gate and Amn. With iron being the most important resource in a war, the Baldurian government has to go to them in order to get any. The Iron Throne has disrupted all the iron trade through the region using the Blacktalon mercenaries and the Chill. The only known iron mine in the region is at Nashkel, and the Iron Throne has effectively crippled it. They have their own mine operating in Cloakwood. When the Baldurian government comes to them for iron, they will be able to make exorbitant trading demands, and thus become the preeminent trading power in this region.

(Yes, this is copy-pasted from the dialogue you can get from the charmed Iron Throne leaders, what can I say, it's a good recap)

So, that's Rieltar's plan to settle the Iron Throne in the region, a plan Sarevok will hijack in several ways. He intends to kill Rieltar and the other two leaders, and while the Iron Throne didn't intend to actually start a war, only increase tensions, Sarevok thinks that a massacre on a godlike scale can ascend him to godhood. That plan of Sarevok also requires him being named Grand Duke, and thus becoming sole leader of Baldur's Gate once he's eliminated the others (yes, the more you know, the more it sounds like someone in BG3's act 3 copy-pasted this plan for his own takeover, hush). This part of his plan required Sarevok to build a positive public image in Baldur's Gate, so the nobles would want him to be grand duke (despite being a newcomer from a Sembian trade group). That wasn't an easy task. The Iron Throne has a bad reputation even before Rieltar's iron plot. It's a known fact they're more a criminal organization than a trading organisation, so people are less likely to deal with them, unless, as Rieltar's planned, they don't have a choice anymore. However, Sarevok doesn't wait for his father's plan to be completed before he starts building relations with the ruling class of the city.

When you first get to Baldur's Gate, various npc inform you of the, mostly, positive image Sarevok has built for himself. That's something even Gorion's ward points out in their own journal entries.

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1: "Nobleman: Those Iron Throne fellows are quite the secretive bunch. Sarevok, the foster son of their leader, is quite the charmer, though."

2: "Journal entry by Charname: Sarevok, son of one of the Iron Throne's leaders, has become increasingly popular in Baldur's Gate."

3: "Noblewoman: From what I've heard, the new man with the Iron Throne, Sarevok, is an unmarried man. I plan to change that."

Love the last one.

So, Sarevok is very popular in the city, even though there are some who disagree, they're not the majority. Most people who aren't as fond of Sarevok are among the commoners, and I would argue that's because they weren't the target audience of his PR campaign. Sarevok needs the nobles' vote to be Grand Duke, so they are the ones he wants on his side. The popular vote is only a bonus.

It's also important to notice he's improving his popularity, not the popularity of the Iron Throne.

He still has popularity among the lower class, and that only increases when you near the game's end.

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4: "Commoner: I think it's about time we took the fight to them [Amn], and Sarevok is the man to lead us."

5: "Commoner: I don't know what them nobles see in that Sarevok fella, but he's something darker, that's for certain."

6: "Commoner: That Sarevok is going to make everything all right again."

7: "Nobleman: An election of sorts has been called because we cannot be without a full governement in these dangerous times. I hear Sarevok is a frontrunner in this matter."

8: "Noblewoman: Entar Silvershield's death was a tragic blow, but with Sarevok stepping in I feel a true sense of hope."

9: "Journal entry by Charname: With the murder of Grand Duke Entar Silvershield, Sarevok is poised to gain control. The people love him."

10: "Noblewoman: Such people would not dare to show their faces in Baldur's Gate, not now that Sarevok and Angelo Dosan control the Flaming Fist. Order will be enforced, more so once Sarevok is appointed as a Grand Duke. I shall have little to fear of the streets once that comes to pass."

11: "Journal entry by Charname: The nobility is especially approving of Sarevok and Angelo Dosan being in control of the Flaming Fist."

12: "Nobleman: He's [Sarevok] making a lot of friends, and I bet he will be nominated to replace poor entar as Grand Duke."

13: "Noblewomen: It is a good time to be of the nobility. Sarevok has ensured us all that order will be restored in this region, whatever the cost."

14: "Journal entry by Charname: The nobility are especially welcoming of Sarevok and his hard stance against Amn."

15: "Nobleman: Sarevok seems like a man who gets things done."

16: "Sir Lothtyran: Personally, I think he'll [Sarevok] do wonderfully."

17: "Brennan Risling: That's why we need Sarevok as Grand Duke, for he'd take the resources from the Iron Throne and' assist us."

18: "Journal entry by Charname: It is good to know that not everyone in this city has fallen in love with the hardliner Sarevok."

Sarevok doesn't have everyone's approval, but he has more than enough to take over the city. Obviously, the mood changes once his plot to drag both governments into war is revealed.

But you know what? Even then, he still has some popularity.

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19: "Commoner: He was such a handsome one, such a shame he had ta go and do that."

random commoner woman: if evil, why hot?

In conclusion: Sarevok almost took over Baldur's Gate and the whole Sword Coast with covert force and was almost lawfully elected Grand Duke of Baldur's Gate thanks to the popularity he cultivated within the city. That was possible thanks to two things. One, it's safe to say that Sarevok can be charismatic and charming when he wishes to be, even though, according to Diarmid, another one of the mercenaries working for him, "[...] subtlety is something that doesn't quite comes naturally to him. He doesn't have the patience for it, though his mind is amazingly tactical".

In his BG2 banter, you also learn he's not overly fond of being around people. That means this entire schmooze fest he did to boost his popularity took serious effort on his part, and it paid off. It was a trial of patience for a man who isn't known to be patient, or at least, not patient for niceties. He can prove very patient for the sake of a plan. We're talking about a character who has had to wait years before he got the opportunity to take revenge on his father for his mother's murder, and a way to get away with it. Sarevok may not enjoy being patient, but is definitely familiar with the practice.

The second reason is that, well, he's hot. I'm not the one saying it, the women (and men, you know there had to be men too) thirsting over him are saying it. They're bound to be disappointed, because while he's not married, he's definitely not single. Anyway, being hot, not something to underestimate. He gets pretty privilege.

To be a bit more serious, while impatient, Sarevok is described as having an "amazingly tactical" mind. This is something you clearly see in his takeover of Rieltar's plan, and manipulation of public opinion. Yes, Sarevok's plan involves various murders, but it's a tool, not an end in itself. He's even careful to have specific murders look like 'robbery gone wrong' or 'mysterious disease strikes'. He has assassins do the killing for him so he can't be directly linked to it. Sarevok is a strategist, whose plans involve a lot more than just 'killing'.

It is a part of his characterization BG 3 abysmally fails to show.

[user946468]

The Game Within | Chishiya Shuntarou Fanfication

Chapter 5/?

Prompt ; You get trapped in a TV show, dedicated to stick by the rules of the game you hid in the shadows, watching from a distance, acting clueless. But what happens when you’re also being watched?

Originally posted on ao3! @user951250

AN - I am very sorry for the wait of this chapter, I have not been inspired recently and have just been lazy in general- this is a short chapter, but I thought I would put it out anyways. I hope you enjoy, and the next chapter should be out sometime tomorrow! Also, how are we liking the new chapter covers?

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During time's like these all you can thinking to do is idly roam the scenery of the Beach- counting each pillar you saunter by, playing 'I spy' with the concealed camera's, playing a false dialogue in your mind while watching exchanges from the roof, just a paring too high to hear the authentic conversation. From early morning too lively afternoon's everything moves in slow motion and yet simultaneously dynamic- blurs of comings and goings, carbon copy's of the same people with the same energy meshed together- all in all, repetitious. 

And on the good days you take it with grace, using it to fuel your boredom and take advantage of the identical hours; introducing yourself as a new person everyday, as an extrovert, a starved mom of two, a pianist, a chess grand master- whatever you think would catch the eye of whoever you were speaking too. It was entertaining to see how long you could keep up the lie, and how immersed in character you could become before slyly leaving the banter all together- you once got caught in your lie. Having told two fibs to the same guy, and when he accused you of it? You mocked a dewy-eyed allegation of how rude he was, how ill-mannered it was too think all American's looked the same. You had to hide a snicker behind your hand when two girl's berated him at your cause, over hearing your teary tale. As novel as it was, that too became taxing at some point. And you supposed in some cases, almost cruel. 

You recognized them from across the bar- they were a cute duo. Two people you leaned towards on your intoxicated night's of normalization, they were flirtatious and playful, always seeking to chat about who hooked up with who and how cheeky this guys was becoming- as coy as they both acted you never actually seen them leave a party with anyone, except for each other that is. You had the cunning realization that the couple were closeted lesbians- and maybe that's why you felt just the smallest bit more comfortable around them than any other party goer, because you two had your own lies to fortify. After all they weren't your usual crowd, and saying you even really had a crowd was an exaggeration- but you know, an eye for an eye, or something like that. 

They seemed lost in friendly banter, each hanging off a different guy and yet you didn't miss the way they seemed to gravitate towards each other, sluggish brushes of the arm, eye's that seemed magnetized towards each other- the guys seemed oblivious, which didn't come as a surprise, likely thinking their friendship was as friendly as their banter. The more touchier, macho guy on the right seemed to try and join in there conversation, a guy you don't recognize from their short visual description of their weekly round off. With a rather irksome smirk he threw his arm around Jisoo- the shorter, more petite girl you grew something close to fond off- and he failed miserably- striking her arm harshly, sending what was left of her drink to splash back onto her. 

Without hesitation, her friend sent her own drink flying his way. A dark crimson cherry drink, a vibrant hue of red and that was now dripping down the man's face, falling too his torso and making his shirt cling to his stomach. That alone was sent a harsh reminder of your nightmare that shook you awake, what led you to leach around the beach like a mopey puppet in the first place. Not much of a nightmare as it was a recollection of memory- you didn't jolt awake sweaty and tight lunged, but it hung over you heavy enough to prevent you from falling back asleep. It didn't surprise you when she pulled Jisoo back, leading her away for the man in a pout. They were too hot to be hanging around those guys anyways. 

Your eye strained back too the man, the deep red of the liquid.  

The harsh beat of your heart thumped through your rib cage, your head, behind your eye's, in the back of your knees- it was so loud your sure it echoed through the room. The eerily silent, bloodshed of an room. It was already done, you couldn't take it back- you couldn't reverse what happened- you couldn't bring the poor women back to life. You couldn't untaste the metallic crimson that stained your teeth, clinging too your taste buds with every dry swallow.

Your own silent promises of keeping your morals, standing on the significant's of keeping you stable- they kept you well, alive- and yet, now- in front of the senseless body- you couldn't seem to care. What was the substance of feeding your self comforting words? The self-seeking, selfish ways of putting aside a life by disregarding their existence entirely? By killing them so coldly?

Spades game. Your fifth game. Instructions clear and achievable, easy on the ears- all you had to do was hide. Wait for the timer to strike down, the familiar weight of relief to engulf you by the chirpy voice telling you that you past- that your safe from the game, that your alive. In hindsight it was foolish to try and pull through the game by hiding, completely stripped bare of any sort of conventional weapon- you just didn't want to kill anyone without reason, and you thought you wouldn't have too.

You were sorely mistaken.  

The first was a man. Lean and tall- and a lot stronger than he looks. The moment he looked at you was the moment you understood that not only were you aware that you were going to die by the hands of this man, but that he had no problem in torturing you in the process. The type of person that thrived in this world, taking and taking without consequence- just because he could. Feeling the cold cement press against your back, the sliver of cold metal against your neck and his rough grip around your thigh was the worst form of a reality check no matter how hard you tried to dive back into your mind.

His heavy hand sliding between your legs wasn't real, the smile that drenched with madness and excitement wasn't real, his huff of warm breath against your face wasn't real- but it was. And it was hideous. The wrongdoings of immoral acts- the starved offense they once craved in a more refined world that came alive when they were sent here. It made you want to throw up. 

While unmoving, stiffly laying there and shocked into silence- your mind ran through every possible thought. The fact there you were getting assaulted by a fictional man, that you were tied in with the cause of innocents deaths, your family, your real world, the ridiculous aspect of everything that's every happened to you ever, that one embarrassing moment in high school that you never got over. 

But what suck out to you the most was the straying thought you always voiced while watched a show, a movie or a low budget short film on YouTube- How ridiculous was that person? Not even putting up a fight to survive? Overlooking their own use of their body as a weapon? And now, under the same situation with a different perspective you couldn't help but scold yourself. How naive of you. How utterly stupid you were. 

And- that's what did it. Your internal self conflict was what moved you to strain your neck up, the knife's pressure building on top of your skin, before your skin snapped back- allowing a small sliver of a cut to form. The pricking sting didn't stop you, nor did the foreign spasm of your neck muscle make you hesitate- teeth dug into skin, knife pushing deeper and deeper and deeper and your jaw tightening, small warm dribbles of blood ran down your jaw- trailing down to mix with the blood of your own, resting on the hallow of your neck.

You think you hurt him, you know you hurt him- but not enough to make him any less stronger than you. Like you were an untrained dog he tried whipping his head around, but its like a knife logged into your abdomen- you don't want to remove it because it'll cause more damage. Your head fell down fast and hard, threatening to collapse back onto the floor, the clenched skin between your teeth came with you and the loud screech of the man told you everything you needed to know. 

You bit a piece of his nose off. 

"You bitch!"

And finally- finally- that was was triggered his brain to jump back, lifting his hand too cover his nose (or what was left of it) with pure astonishment- he hadn't expected you to react like that, and truthfully- neither did you. The whole bottom half of his face was covered in blood, and you couldn't imagine you looked much better. Breathless and masked with blood, a piece of human flesh still dangling for your uncomfortably tightened jaw. 

Your throat made a chocked up sound, maybe you were about to throw up, or cry, or maybe it was a half-assed distressed laugh at how fucking stupid everything was- you spat it on the ground besides you, narrowly missing your own arm. And for a small second you both stared at the piece of fat that was laying around a small pool of blood. A piece of fat that, just a minute ago, was attached to a living, breathing, human. Your eye's stung but you knew better than to close them. 

The main yelled out some incomprehensible threats, feeling around the outer skin of his half opened nose like it would appear back any second, the sight of his own nose being anywhere but on his face must have brought him back for the rush of shock that took over his brain- throwing his body around in any way possible like his brain didn't know if he should pick his nose back up, run away, fight back- or all three. 

With shaky hands you lifted the forgotten knife, the man dropped it when he first leaped back, a common reflex of self defensive that worked entirely in your favor- he couldn't hear the metal scrape against the concrete as you picked it up over his own wails or could he focus on you slowly standing up- lightheaded and so unsteady you almost fell over, having to grab a wooden shelf to steady yourself. The man only recognized you when you spoke. 

Despite the irony of your question, you were surprisingly sincere, "Want it back?" you asked, toeing the bloody thing towards him. 

Even with your voice light and most syllables coming out with a sigh, it made the man lash towards your direction- his eyes zeroed in. It really shouldn't have been surprising when the man lunged at you- hot and putrid puffs of air in your face and a tight grip around your collar- but it still hurt being rammed into a ragged cement wall. Letting out a hushed groan as the wall left little prickles along your back, while the the shelf you once used to stable yourself dropped an assortment of trinkets with a loud smash. 

"You- you did this to me!" He accused, a wobbly calloused finger pointed in your face in accusation. You couldn't help but shake your head, technically he did this too himself, throwing you down and feeling you up- stupid on his part to try and rip his face away in the first place- you would have voiced this, loud and arguably correct him but his finger prodded at the slice on your neck- still fresh and raw with warm blood- you made a noise of protest but it fell on deaf ears.

His dirt collected finger nail ran along the inflamed silver of your skin, pressing down just hard enough to turn the slight irritation to a sharp pain. Your vision clouded but you wouldn't let yourself blink, you would rather stab yourself than give him the pleasure of seeing you teary eye'd. 

The man's bloodied, slowly growing grin scared you more than his violent words and harsh grip on your skin. He had the audacity to let out a mock of your pained huff, "Oh, baby. What am I going to do with you, hm?"

You didn't think while you stabbed him in the stomach, white noises clouded you when shaky muscles pushed the handle down- you didn't only stab him, you gutted him. You didn't think because if you did- you wouldn't have fought back at all. 

Your finger moved repeatedly in steady fluid motions, dragging along the rim of your cup- with your head slightly tilted towards the sky, you let the beams of light keep you grounded. If you looked closely, just between where cloud meets sky you could see bursting fragments of red tinge lingering, dancing in small lines with the solid blue, only apparent if you stared hard enough- or maybe you were just too deep in your own mind. Two familiar faces brought your head to hang low, tilted just enough in the shade two see the pair clearly- in grace of saving your eyesight. 

Seeing Arisu and Usagi around became the new norm, leaving you quickly adjusted to their inconsistent appearances around the beach- the three of you haven't spoken much since their introduction to the beach and you didn't expect too. You were even surprised they still gave you small waves and nod's when seeing you around, small courtesies of civility. They never made a move to come up to you, and neither did you them. 

Together they sat before a small group of three, each passing second their frowns deepened in confusion, dancing with bewildered eye contact every few seconds. The two girls laughed at something the man said than, one grabbing a pool noodle from under her arm to repeatedly smack him in the neck. Even with their contentious giggles it looked like it hurt- swinging the foam above her head to hit him - once, twice, three times just above his collarbones. It was a flimsy, light weight thing so logically you knew it didn't hurt- but still you found your self squinting with each hit, what if it wasn't foam?

You could tell something was about to happen before you seen her- the yelling and desperately rushed foot steps made you jump back into the nearest corner surrounding you. The man's body laid unconscious in the middle of the room, knife still laying deep in his abdomen. The basement door slammed open, echoing throughout the walls before being just as harshly shut. Locks clicking hastily just before loud bangs matched the hurry from the girl on the outside. 

A women. Around your age. The yells were manly and deep- you two were in the same position. And yet you knew how it looked when she stared at you- at the bloody dead man- eye's round with terror and a trembling breath, face covered in tear marks. You looked just as much as a threat as the men outside- hidden in a dark corner, your face had streaks of some fresh some dried blood ruining down your mouth, your clothes and hands weren't much better- your sure you looked straight out of some gory horror movie. Not to mention the man.. you tried not to think about him but your eye's followed to where her's fell. 

Sliced chest to stomach, organs swimming so deep in blood you couldn't even tell what you were looking at. It was spilling around the knife and onto the floor and it made the whole room smell metallic, and every breath you took felt like you were suffocating your lungs with it- with his blood. Your gut clenched when you glanced at something fleshy prodding out of his stomach- you kind of expected all his organs to stay in place despite being the one to cut him. And somehow his face was the worst thing to look at; open and dull, lifeless eye's, nose half detached- he's could've been attacked by a wild animal.

You look away before she does. Slowly, you lifted your bloody palms in surrender, trying to not look anything close to how you felt, "I swear, I'm not going to hurt you-"

As soon as you knew what was coming you winced sharply, shoulders jumping towards your ears to try and block out the high pitched screech from the girl, loud and obnoxious- which was completely fair but still made you squint with displeasure. It circled throughout the room, and there was no doubt every square inch of the house didn't linger with the ring of her scream- which meant not only did the structure hear her, so did every other player. Her jaw still hung heavy after the abrupt attack to her vocal cords, she looked frozen in place. 

She didn't move, not even a blink. 

"It's fine. Everything is okay."

"Stay the fuck away from me!" 

Her demand- although it sounded more like a plea- made you freeze mid step, foot frozen a few inches above the floor. The women, while still looking deathly terrified, held a handgun out in front of her- pointed directly at you. She must have hidden it somewhere on her, it wasn't anywhere near her just a few seconds ago- she looked as uncomfortable holding it as you would've imagined. 

Handling it clumsily, arms still a close distance to her torso and unsteady hands. She's un-experienced. Okay, you could do with that. 

You complied, taking a few steps back, "Okay. Look, the games almost over and we-" 

A gunshot - than a shrieked loud "Fuck!"

Whether is came from you or the girl you weren't sure- all you knew was the white pain that shot throughout your arm, the type of pain that made every muscle in your body tense and sent nothing but silence to your mind- the type that signaled to your brain that something was wrong but your adrenaline rush couldn't understand what it was. Lifting a hand to your bicep you winced, hand drawing back with blood- your blood. 

The only sense you had was the solace of glancing down and seeing that the bullet wasn't lodged into your arm, but rather scrapped your skin and took a small chunk of it in the process. Still, it hurt like hell. 

Another gun shot next to your ear. 

It sent an unfamiliar vibration through your eardrum, it was entirely uncomfortable and it silenced any other sounds from coming too your left ear for just a second too long. Shuffling your feet instinctively too the right, trying to escape from the array of bullets heading your way- your right arm swung around the rough wall frantically, trying and succeeding in finding the light switch. The room was engulfed in darkness a second later. 

"Huh? Wh- where'd you go, huh?" A panic struck-en remark laced with anxiety, "Turn the light back on, you pussy!"

Despite her threats, you knew they were vague and was almost positive the women wasn't bold enough to go on a blind search in the room. It gave you time to coddle into yourself; leaning into the wall for support, eye's half lidded and arms hugging yourself tightly- you let yourself shrink for a moment. A sly moment you wouldn't have let anyone see with the lights on.

You knew you had to fight back- and yet, not for the first time, the dread of the situation hung over you. It was like a roller coaster; the anticipation before, the racing feeling during, and the absentness after. You stayed put for a few more seconds, your eye's ruining lines thorough the dark and trying to regulate your pulse in stillness- the women's chocked sobs weren't helping but you knew- the sooner you did it, the better. 

Rolling away from the wall you honed in the darkness around the door- the only way in, the only way out- you took a step forwards, trying too use memory alone to direct where you were going. A shift in the gloomy light, slight and almost unnoticeable- but you caught it, and you maneuvered in a dream like state. 

Another step forwards, this wasn't real.

Another step, this world wasn't real. 

And another, the man's blood wasn't real. 

The last step, she wasn't real. 

With your good arm you threw your body towards her, slamming your left side into her area blindly- and by some luck you managed too throw her off balance, successfully tumbling both you and her down in one foul swoop. With an elbow to your chest and a your knee to her stomach you ended up on top of her- you mused you must have winded her by her short circuit of motion- whole body rigged and still for a moment and a hesitation before swinging something around in her hand- it could have only been the gun. 

Ducking as close to her as physically possible you sightlessly thrashed against her own arm for the gun, trying to claw and scratch your way to her palm as fast as possible. All she needed was one good shot. A slight pressure in your head and ache in your arm go almost unnoticed, your breath caught in your throat- you didn't want to kill the women- you just needed to make sure she wouldn't kill you. 

And yet you might as well have been dead the second a sharp jab came from the women, pushing you face first into the rocky ground and leaving an fire of small tears of skin across your cheek. A vacant machinery click, goosebumps littered your whole body, breath shallow and limbs tense- a loud, ear shattering gun shot and... nothing. No sharp pain, no fire etching across your body and no sudden lose of responsiveness. 

A watery gurgle just millimeters from your head made you untangle your limps from the women, a too familiar warmth of a wet splat hit your face in small droplets. Rushing into the nearest wall, you urgently searched as far as your arms would let and not without a small hesitation you flipped the switch. 

Your brain already formed a hyper-realistic painted of what was shown on the basement floor before you turned the lights on, and the vision in front of you almost matched it identically. The women was hunched over, attempting - and failing miserably- to stop the blood that came from her torso.. your not sure if her uncanny silence or the blood dribble from her bottom lip made you more queasy. The gun laid besides her, a pocket pistol- a hand gun made to hold only three bullets. A pitiful excuse of a gun really. 

You felt your shoulder drop slightly; a shot at your arm, by your ear, and than one at her self- she held no real threat over you now. With her limp figure and pale face you doubted she could be a threat to anything at this point.  

She wepted quietly into her shoulder, biting into the fabric of her shirt and squeezing her eye's tightly. The blood pooled around her in slow waves- nothing like in the movies where their death is almost instantaneous- which really, would have been better than the drag out of death that loomed over you. Inevitable and extended far to long for tranquility. Only your heavy breaths and her silent cries were resonating through the room.

The women seem to lull over something, letting out a pained groan while shaking her head. Finally she looked up at you with unfocused eye's and water-clumped lashes- with a sound that you could only describe as a growl she spoke, "Help me."

She seemed to hate the idea of asking as much as you hated the idea of helping her. Not because you didn't want to, but because you didn't know how. The bullet was deep, and must have hit a vital organ to encourage that much blood shed in such a little amount of time- and you had no way of knowing how to stop the bleeding or when too much blood loss was fatal- and didn't she just try to kill you?

"I.. can't. I'm not a doctor by any means-"

"No. Don't make me suffer any longer than I have too," She  snarled, which for a dying women held a lot of ridicule, "I'm no fucking saint, but death is a lesson in it's self." 

When she saw you made no indication of you following what she said, limply she reached over to the gun and threw it towards you- It only got a few inches away. What the hell were you supposed to say? Would it be worse to kill an innocent women, her death laying on top of you - or was it worse to ignore her last dying wish? After a string of lose cusses under her breath she pointed loosely to a small cutler of gardening equipment, "There, that one."

A well-polished, serrated axe stood tall in group of instruments. You bit your tongue. With one last glance, you made your decision. 

"Yeah.. okay."

Too anyone else it would have painted you out to be satanic- a repulsive act made by a demented replica of everything wrong with the world. A deranged women who picked the hatchet up, feeling its weight in her hands. An unstable individual who lifting the axe above her head, and who madly threw the blade down- again, and again, and again until the metal hit nothing but the floor beneath where the women's neck should have been. But you understood far more than to infer off first sight, the act wasn't hell-ish, and the butchery wasn't violent- it was necessary.

And it wasn't real, the ache in your shoulders wasn't real, your drenched figure was a fragment of your imagination. It had to be. You needed it too be.

You felt bile burn up your throat. 

"Game cleared. Congratulations."

Unlike previous interactions you didn't shy away from the unison ogle that was directed towards you, lifting an accusing eyebrow while tapping aimlessly on your thigh- you let your self stare back for a second, a small dispute coming and going through your mind before sauntering your heads towards the two empty bar chairs next to you in question. That was all the confirmation they need to head your way. 

Sliding your forgotten glass across the table you give a small smile. 

"Hey."

They both seemed to be tightly strung, just like how they were the first day you saw them. Tense, weary eyed and always slightly uncomfortable- like no matter where they are they can't seem to feel like they blend in- and you supposed they didn't, always bring unwanted attention and sticking out like a sore thumb. The pair was unlucky, having brought no desire to back up the regard or respect it for that matter. They slid in the chairs besides you with ease. 

Arisu gave you a sickly sweet smile, "Hey, long time no see." 

Usagi hummed in agreement from besides him, "Yeah, what have you been up too?" she asked. While sliding next to you her palms clenched around her swim shorts, attempting to stretch out the fabric to cover anything more than just her hips- it didn't seem to falter her though, and you almost expect her doing so is purely by reflex. 

"You know.." You trail off for a moment before continue, one hand gesturing lazily to the bar table in front of you, "Around."

You waited a moment, "And you?"

"Well we, uh.." Arisu stopped briefly, glancing over at Usagi for confirmation- and only when she gave a hesitant but firm nod did he continue, although not before clearing his throat in his hand, "We actually have a question. You know, for you. What exactly is," he gestured tactlessly around himself, a copy of your own movement. "The 'Beach'? What's up with this place?"

"We've asked around and everyone has a different answer." Usagi added.

As skeptical as they seemed it was over ridden with a slight hitch in their voices, the lingering and hopefully sense of optimism- you heard it in every one's speech, even in their movements as they pushed and paraded around on crowded game night's without a care in the world, and if they knew about it no one ever tried to hide it, but you wished they did. Because maybe if they did, they wouldn't have been a target to a headless plan. 

Your eyes hopped from Arisu to Usagi, their quizzing and serene gazes to Usagi and her attempt at covering her frame. As calm as they peered at you, you could help but feel the slightest bit uncomfortable at how open they stared, "What have you heard?" You question, gently placing a throw pillow down on Usagi's lap with a feather touch, not giving any regard or look to your hand while doing so. 

And just like you Arisu payed no mind to it, although his was unintentional. He leaned across the bar and carried on, "Well, we all know what Hatter said. Collect all the cards and one by one we'll be sent home- but I mean, is that really it? What about the face card's? Do we just have to wait for those too?" 

The apt and valiant bleed through his words, it make your lips twitch as just how much he was fitting the narrative of being a gamer- he spoke like he was talking his team through a vain video game, outwardly speaking his mind for his team mates to try and connect the dots. But you couldn't connect the dotes for him, at least not yet- but maybe there would be no harm in helping to cement their guard around their mind, making it less tangible to break through. To try and harden their stances; they were too forgiving, too trusting-

"Ah yes, the question everyone is thinking." A new voice, and a click of a tongue too sudden and close for comfort. You didn't have to turn around to know who it was, "No one seems to have a real answer, do they?"

Each day after your game with Chishiya has been vacant, to say the least.

No peculiar force of feeling like your being watched and less sightings of the drifting man in crowds. You knew Chishiya made an opinion of you the second you stepped out of the game- but what you didn't know, something you knew only days after, was the leading nature he made of you was one that bored him. Although boredom was more of a filler word, rather it sucked his skepticism of you based on your performance. Despite feeling a certain way of being characterized as dense in some way, foolish enough to be over looked- you knew it was for the better. After all it wasn't like his characterization of your unintelligent was particularly that far off, and it's not like you cared what he thought about you anyway.   

Still, you felt it dumbed you down. It was a reflex, really- someone can be the brightest person and they can still feel crass when surrounded by others with the same wit- and yet knowing that, it still made your eye twitch. 

Chishiya voice was smooth and still suffocated with an air of superiority, although you could tell he tried to mask it behind false hazy of cognizance - or maybe his ego drifted that high around him that it followed above with each step he took.

Alert was the only word you could describe how the couple tensed at Chishiya's appearance; straightening postures and limbs instinctively retracting into themselves.. it was odd, and made you wonder weather Chishiya already coaxed them with his plan. You took the first step of responding for their sake, both seemed unknowing how or even if they should respond- or maybe they were thinking like you, wondering when and where the fuck he even came from.

"It's rude to ease drop, you know? Or did your mommy never teach you that?"

Glancing over your shoulder you eye'd Chishiya, he was leaning carelessly into the bars table, hands hidden and unfazed by your remark, although their might have been some reaction based on the twitch of his lips. 

"So hostile," he noted, "We're all friends around here."

You wonder if he knew you could hear how fabricated he sounded, or how you could hear how it scratched around his throat like it physically pained him to say.

"You two know each other?" Arisu asked, sounding as confused as you felt- and all you know is that you didn't want to be associated with Chishiya. 

Quickly remarking a sharp, "No."

"Yes."

You glared at him.

What the hell was he getting at?

"If no one has an answer, how are we sure there is one?" Usagi voiced, thankfully not taking mind to the contracted statement of you both- she seemed to sprawl across the chair a lot more freely with the pillow in her lap. 

Chishiya hummed in agreement, quietly gravitating towards the couple, ghost footsteps coming to a fault in front of you- you were half minded to stick your foot out and trip him, just to see if he would get embarrassed. He gazed across the scenery around him in faux thought, "You're not wrong. Somethings are better left unknown, but when there is an obvious answer and the question haunts the narrative.." he pauses, making a show of scanning the crowd before continuing.

"Some cope by killing innocent people, becoming desensitized to death, heavy drugs," Chishiya glanced your way, "Over use of alcohol. All very futile."

You should of tripped him when you had the chance. 

Maybe you were the only one who noticed how dull his speech was, how it sounded like he was reading off a grocery list rather than regarding the results made from an unjustified world but it made you want to exit the conversation and drown him in the pool all at once. Chishiya was a man with much thought to give, a borderline genius with a struggle of apathy - and while knowing the rundown of the situation you couldn't help but ponder of the abstinence of the man. The lack of care he has to spare two lives- to be raped and tortured- because he could. Because it would benefit him in the long run. 

But you supposed that's just how it works here, and you knew that the same logic applies to those of your own sins - bleeding hearts and dubious murders, the flow of nature of the games - yet you still felt he was more stained than you ever could be. You were held together with glue, the strong reminder that everything you do here didn't matter, and that you held no relevance towards any actions you caused - but Chishiya? What did he have?

In the same second you forced your face to fall, you hoped no one noticed the slight frown that formed when your mind jumped to Chishiya's plan - you couldn't look at the pair, turning to face the bar instead. Somehow you already felt guilty. 

"What do you mean 'obvious answer'?" It was Arisu, eyes wide with interest and instinctively leaned more towards Chishiya - if Arisu also noticed how Chishiya leaned back at the same time he didn't show it. 

Huh, so they didn't know about the plan than. 

And maybe that's why Chishiya shrugged indifferently - the way for a split second he had opened his mouth, before abruptly closing it - like he had forgotten something wasn't supposed to be said. It would make sense to wait, cornering Arisu alone before encouraging him to string Usagi along, speaking his plan in a more secluded area- and yet you still felt there was another reason - something that wasn't just the cause of person and place. 

You tilted your head slightly, lost in thought - intentionally ignoring the small question and answer conversation coming from besides you. Concerning questions replied with similar lackluster answers. You twirled your middle finger around the table in scribbles - Chishiya seemed to squint at you a bit more tightly, shuffling between you and the pair like he was creating a barrier and barley made any indication you were there unless you spoke - Chishiya wasn't only unwilling to add you to his plan because he found no purpose too, but because he didn't trust you. 

And maybe there was something funny about that.  

You slid out from the chair, vaguely attempting a quiet leave - an unlit cigarette hung for your bottom lip, and you reached over to grab your discarded jacket you shrugged off some time in the earlier afternoon when it got too hot. 

"Are you leaving?"

Usagi voiced her question out loud, as much as you wished to silently hid away you couldn't seem to find yourself to mind her question all that much. Maybe because it was her who asked it - she clung onto the pillow and seemed more distant to the ongoing conversation - unlike Arisu, who you could practically see the cogs turning in his brain.

Trying not to look as awkward as you felt when her question paused the commotion of the two, three pairs of eye's now straining on you. You mumbled out a trained, "Yes." Not too quick, not too slow.

You were slouched over the table, and your words slurred around the rolled paper when you spoke. Carefully you lifted your hair out of the way of the tiki torch, letting the warm flame light the tip of the cigarette with an encouraging inhale. Hot air rippled onto your face in waves, and it wasn't until gray smoke coiled into the air did you pull away - another inhale, shorter this time, and after your empty hand smoothing your hair down you turned to walk away. 

"Nasty habit." Chishiya commented, just before you could take the first step. 

You hated how every time he spoke towards you, he did so with an condescending tone seeping through each word, and how he looked you over in a way you could only describe as inferior made you refuse to bite your tongue.

"What are you, my doctor?" You asked, an emphasized shake of the head when you got to the last word, an innocent tilt of your head to pull it all together. You dared him to say something back. 

Silence.

You had to turn away before he could see you smile, but either way your sure he heard the small huff of air you let out as you walked away - and you couldn't find it in yourself to care. 

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Tag- @mypsychoticlove