#I've had this saved in my drafts for months

[agentkuryakin]

Nozue before giving head to Togawa for the first time

[can-of-slorgs]

Im dying at your tags on that last anon 😭😂 youre now the dr.sloth pinup artist that neopets needed

Not the title i wanted to craft for myself when i started this blog but hey, it brought us such good memories like

[leqclerc]

Do you have some sebchal recs? I try to look on ao3 but I barely find any, so I imagine most of their fics are more old

Hello! ❤️

Interestingly, I find myself having the opposite problem. I feel like the fandom - and, by extension, the interest in Seb/Charles as a ship - has grown exponentially since 2020. I think there's like forty pages of published works on ao3 right now. Which might not seem like a lot, especially when compared to other juggernaut ships or fandoms, but considering the fact that there were maybe 3 when I first looked up the tag... 😳 Anyway, over time I've kind of figured out what I like and what I don't like in relation to the ship, so these days I tend to be more selective and pick through to find what really speaks to me, what really knocks my socks off, if that makes sense. 😂 We all have different tastes, both as readers and authors, so different people will gravitate toward different things. Not everything scratches the itch, basically. TL;DR: it really depends on what you're looking for and what you like. 👀

That being said, here are some of the fics that made an impression/that I find myself coming back to:

Canon/Canon Adjacent (aka still set somewhere in the realm of F1):

postcards from places that miss you by streetlightsky T | 15,108 words ↳ Seb wanted to leave quietly. That was the one thing he had asked above all else. Or, the one where Seb retires, but Charles refuses to let him disappear. -> I honestly recommend pretty much anything by this author ⭐ immortality on their faces, night at their back by wintrs E | 16,147 words ↳ Sebastian had always wondered about Charles—but maybe he’d known the truth all along, and he’d just never let himself acknowledge it. no flowers, no flashbulbs by superoxide E | 10,736 words ↳ Sebastian frowns, without thinking. They’d both ridiculed the idea of some kind of staged paparazzi friendliness when it had come up. He wonders what has turned Charles around on the idea so suddenly. (Charles has a plan to improve their image; Sebastian is less convinced.) see you falling by redpaint E | 3,653 words ↳ “I can’t— There are no words. No words. I just need to get this out of my head, okay? Before you go.” -> I honestly recommend pretty much anything by this author, especially the 'conflict resolution' series for that 2019 feel⭐ those who miss each other by sionisjaune E | 8,401 words ↳ Charles’s phone is burning a hole in his pocket. This is something he should be filming, but he doesn’t want to. He thinks he shouldn’t, for some reason. He thinks he can keep this encounter for himself. + bonus: (yes I'm sharing my own fic shhhh) been a long year by ssilverarrowss M | 7,123 words ↳ The days stubbornly march forward. Sometimes it feels agonisingly slow, and sometimes it feels like everything is moving too quickly, like Charles is going to blink and all the time he’s spent with Sebastian will be in the rearview, gone forever.

Alternate Universe:

scenes from an american artist by tetrapod M | 9,389 words ↳ Excerpt from an interview with Charles Leclerc. August 1974. Q: How did it all end? CL: The way all relationships end, I suppose. Inevitably. flesh of my flesh by charlotte_stant E | 4,749 words ↳ Sebastian, still smiling, tilts his head and looks at Charles speculatively. “Can I take you for a drive, Father?" he asks. "To continue our conversation. I find myself in need of… spiritual direction.” Charles ought to say no, but he doesn’t even consider it, not really. Sometimes falling is like that: as easy as opening your mouth and saying “Yes.” the language of another world by redpaint G | 2,568 words ↳ Charles is sent down from Oxford (drunkenness, absenteeism, behavior unbecoming of a Balliol man) and becomes the research assistant to a botanist who is doing fieldwork in the Shetland Islands. and VASI to guide you in by anonymous T | 1,375 words ↳ Nobody at the tiny Aeroporto di Maranello Enzo Ferrari can figure out why and how the runway lights manage to stay on through the night—long after curfew and long after the last worker has left the premises, taking the main ops key with them. However, newly promoted Captain Charles Leclerc of floundering charter airline Ferrari Air knows the answer to that question. He just won’t tell it to anyone. Ever. the tools to rebuild by astronomical_light T | 22,645 words ↳ After months of stagnating in his recovery following a high-speed crash, Charles gets referred to a specialist clinic tucked away in the Swiss mountainside that feels as much like a high-end wellness retreat as it does a physical rehabilitation program. He doesn’t have many expectations going into it, but he knows one thing for sure—he definitely wasn’t expecting Sebastian.

Seb/Charles feat. other pairings:

stringe il cuore della stella morente by partywitharichzombie E | 14,634 words ↳ The announcement is almost poetic in its sweet simplicity: a photo of Daniel, aged three, the cavallino rampante a stark contrast against the white of his oversized t-shirt, radiant grin as disarming then as it is now. No caption. None necessary. (Daniel signs with Ferrari for 2021 and beyond. He hopes he and Charles can avoid ending up in a scenario of assured mutual destruction.) high speed weekend survivor by babypapaya T | 18,608 words ↳ Formula Student is a student engineering competition held annually in the UK. Student teams from around the world design, build, test, and race a small-scale formula style racing car. (in) clover by tetrapod T | 5,895 words ↳ “I was thinking we could take the boat out,” Charles said. spacetime invariants by distressedgremlin M | 6,615 words ↳ Lewis arrived midway through the season of dust storms. Sebastian met him on a shabby starport that barely clung to the atmosphere of a frozen-over planet, the only one within forty light-days’ distance that the dust did not reach.

[trainerbede]

I think I'll finally go back to setting a queue on tumblr again... I've been kind of only sporadically using social media lately to keep up with Palestine updates from different sources (which I still want to do) but I also want to maybe use this blog for my interests and maybe even my writing again. I've made a few new friends here on tumblr lately and I kind of want to start talking to people here more...

[solradguy]

I came to terms with the Sol kinnie thing months ago now because honestly who gives a shit, but every now and then I'll find myself in a situation where I wonder if whatever it was I was about to do was/is a pre- or post-Guilty Gear interest lol

[straykats]

U STILL REMEMBER THAT SET????? 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭💞💞💞💞💞

btw this fic right here is guitarist jongho I wrote it a while ago ok peace

YESS???? HOW CIUKD I FORGET,????? DIDNT I GO BATSHIT OVER IT LMAOOOOOOOO it was so good man o man auteez but specifically that hj one has a special place in my heart <3<3

[stupidthoughtsinwriting]

Passing this on💕

Thanks for giving this along lovie!

[analyticallymindedaa]

𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

What is your character’s favorite physical activity?  running, hiking, horse riding, axe throwing.

What is your character’s favorite weather?  either clear and cool with a bit of a breeze or dark and overcast with drizzling rain, with the thunder in the far distance.

What is your character’s favorite season?  fall.

What is your character’s least favorite season?  she doesn’t really have one, but if forced to choose, summer.

Is your character a morning person, night owl, or something else entirely?  morning person. she wakes up incredibly early. but she does also love to stay up late to watch the stars.

A stranger makes a crude comment to your character. How do they react?  shuts them down in a way they don’t realize she insulted them until later. or ignores entirely.

What is your character’s favorite beverage?  tea.

Does your character know how to swim?  yes, and she’s quite a good swimmer, but she’s not a very big fan of it anymore.

It’s the first day of truly good weather that your character has seen this year. What do they do?  go out for a walk and enjoy the sunshine.

What was your character’s last pleasant dream?  being happy and content in a place with people she cares about with no lurking fear of something happening.

What is your character’s worst fear?  being unable to protect those she cares about, being abandoned.

What is your character’s favorite color to wear?  blues, grays, purples.

From your point of view, what is your character’s worst flaw?  her guilt and inability/refusal to ask for help.

From your point of view, what is your character’s greatest strength?  her resilience and hope.

Is your character an introvert or an extrovert?  introvert.

What method of transportation does your character use?  cars, but she also used to live on a plane, so she’s definitely fine with that as well.

How does your character feel about sex?  neutral to positive.

Has your character ever deliberately set out to emotionally hurt someone?  yes.

tagged by: @eisiramdeus​ tagging: anyone who wants

[koushirouizumi]

* D o . N o t . r e  b l o g

Me, waking up, every day: Is it August {xx} yet? Is it August {xx} yet? Is it August {xx} yet? Is it August {xx} yet? Is it August {xx} yet? ---

- for multiple various reasons, the most major of which is not f@ndom

{IMG by Me} {DO NOT re-post} {DO NOT Copy} {Please ASK to Use} also my Survive copy doesnt even come until after Aug. 15 or so but not talking about that either

{Digi-Stans @ Me: wHY arENT YOU pLAYING IT YET--- ME: You know if it could just s H I P TO ME.....}

[evertidings]

— MARCH 2024.

accomplishments.

erm. hi. it's been a while, i know. i skipped last month's update, so i'll give you a lengthy one for march. truth be told, i haven't been able to touch when twilight strikes for a while. this is not because i don't want to, but mostly because i've been busy with school and/or have been struggling with writer's block. because of this, i made the decision to scrap what i had written for chapter eleven and start (kinda) from scratch. now, before you go and panic, let me explain.

the reason i've been taking so long on this chapter is that, well, i screwed up. i found a (rather large) plot hole that i've been trying to fix, and the solution i came up with was, uh, interesting. definitely not my greatest idea. but because i had already written so much, i kept pushing forward, hoping that things would straighten out and i'd miraculously like the chapter by the time i finished. haha, very funny. as you can tell, that didn't end up happening. i didn't particularly hate what i wrote, i could just tell that it was absolute bullshit. and while sometimes that works, it just was not doing it for me here. so i cut it.

i was able, however, to save a bunch of it for the new draft, so i didn't completely start over, but i am definitely down a lot of words compared to what i had written initially. i'm not super bummed out about it, but i am upset that that means i'm again behind on getting this out to you. i know it's been a while since i've published any updates and hearing that i've pushed things back is probably not very fun, but i promise, now that i've got my plot hole sorted out, things are going much smoother.

i'm currently in the thick of final exams so i haven't been able to write as much as i've wanted to lately, but the good news is that i'm graduating (WOOOOO!) so i won't have any more school work to distract me anymore. once mid-april hits, i'm free everybody.

(on that note, thank you for being so patient and sticking by me. i see new fans joining every day and it warms my heart that so many of you continue to enjoy this story. i appreciate you so much more than you know).

[fiveht]

Proof of life (Adore pt 3)

Hello my sweet angel babies ♥️

I'm not going to be able to adequately express my gratitude for the steady stream of love (and concern, sorry) I've been receiving over the past couple of months. I'm so sorry I've been AWOL, it will definitely happen again. Because see, for me, I usually have to make a choice between social and creative fandom participation. My battery is small, and takes a long time to charge.

Thank you to everyone who's left comments and asks and DMs since I've been gone. I don't think I can respond to all of it, but rest assured those messages ping my cold, dead heart every time I see them.

So I'm gonna go out on a limb here. I did this same thing months and months ago, when I was working on Head Over Feet, and let me be clear: posting even a single word of a WIP goes against my every instinct and principle as an author. I am someone who likes to finish an entire story before I post any of it, and on top of that, I am NOT a fast writer, so the expectations that I'm setting up here might not be advisable. But I did it before and managed to finish the thing, and I want to give you guys something in exchange for being so unbelievably awesome, so here I am again.

This will probably be the only time I mention this story in public until it's finished and posted, and inquiries about my progress are unlikely to help with the writing process, I'm just saying. I reserve the right to change every last word of this before the final draft, and I also reserve the right to fall off the face of the planet and simply never finish it, as much as I will strive to prevent that from happening. Please be patient with me.

Anyway, here is my paltry offering to say thanks for the love: the (VERY rough) first ~1300 words of the third instalment of The Adventures of Soft Daddy and Danger Twink.

Sirius secures his handheld shower head to its holder at the edge of his clawfoot tub, and steps out carefully onto the bathmat. He shivers in the cool air outside the shower curtain; it's about twenty degrees below zero outside, so even if he could afford to run his ancient radiator at full blast, it probably wouldn't help much.

He dries himself off and checks his reflection in the mirror, turning his face this way and that as he tugs his hair out of the bun he'd piled it into to keep it dry during his shower. There's no need for makeup tonight, not when he's not even planning to put on clothes.

It's incrementally warmer when he steps out into the main room of his apartment. He gathers an array of splayed text books and notes from his bed and dumps them carelessly onto the couch, then closes his new laptop and places it delicately on the coffee table. It's the most expensive thing he owns, save for the Gucci backpack currently sitting in his wardrobe with a three-inch berth around it like his shoes and other bags might somehow contaminate it. It's weird owning rich-people stuff when you are still, objectively, broke as fuck.

He perches on the edge of his bed and sets his phone to charge, because his battery doesn't even last a day anymore, and he's going to need it this evening. He tucks it in next to his pillow and picks up his new toy.

The plug isn't much larger than the one he already has. A little longer, which is appealing, but no wider, so it shouldn't be a challenge to get it in comfortably. He disconnects it from its charger and hefts it in his hand, feeling the added weight from the electronics inside.

He picks up his phone, and hesitates when he sees the notification waiting for him.

Rieka: let's go out tomorrow

Rieka: the fact that we haven't been drunk since the term started is criminal

Rieka: we've had two chem labs and zero drinks

Sirius purses his lips, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. There's a fine line here, and he hasn't quite found it yet.

Me: got plans

Me: raincheck?

So complete avoidance is the best strategy, right?

Rieka: booooo 👎

He sighs, but at least she's not asking for an explanation. He opens a different conversation then, pushing all thoughts of Rieka Lupin into a tidy, sealed compartment, not to be opened during certain activities with a certain relative of hers.

Me: i'm ready

Me: are you in your office?

Daddy: Yup, I've got a few minutes

Daddy: Want me to call?

Instead of answering, Sirius hits the call button himself.

"Hey baby," Remus answers. His voice is already smooth and honey-sweet, and just from that, Sirius knows he's planning to lay it on thick tonight.

"Hi daddy," Sirius says with a smile. "Should I put it in now?"

There's a low chuckle over the line. "Are we feeling eager?"

"Always," Sirius says, laying back on his bed.

"Use the good lube I got you, it's gonna be in there a while."

He switches the call to speaker, and snags the bottle from his nightstand. "I threw out the old stuff, you've got me ruined for cheap lube."

"Only the best for that ass," Remus says, and Sirius can hear his smirk.

He gives the plug a liberal coating, running his fingers along its shape, his dick twitching just at the feel of the silky-smooth silicone, at the anticipation of what's about to happen. He spreads his legs wide, drawing one knee up to give himself easier access.

"Take it slow," Remus says, succinctly heading off Sirius' impulse to just shove the thing inside himself in one go. "Rub the tip against yourself, so you're nice and wet."

Sirius shuts his eyes as he obeys, sliding the slick end of the toy over his entrance. "Okay."

"Are you going to be a good boy for daddy tonight?"

"Uh-huh," Sirius says, teasing the very tip of the plug in and out of his hole.

"Tell me how."

"I'm not gonna touch."

"You're not gonna touch, and you're not gonna come."

"Yeah," Sirius says. His cock is starting to harden as his body tries to draw the plug inside. "Can I put it in, daddy?"

"Slow," Remus reminds him, "Slide it in nice and slow for me, baby."

Sirius catches his lip between his teeth and tries to push the plug in slowly, the way he knows Remus would do if he was here. 

The shower has left him relaxed and more than ready, and it's hard not to take advantage, just press the toy in to its limit because he can. But he's working on his patience -- under Remus' careful tutelage -- so he shuts his eyes and tries to savour it, the tease of the plug's rubber tip at his entrance, the slow stretch as he eases it past the slight resistance before he sighs, and his body eagerly accepts the intrusion.

"Mmmm," Sirius sighs as he settles the base of the plug flush against his entrance, shifting his hips and feeling the constant, dull pressure against his prostate.

"How's it feel?" 

"Good," Sirius says, splaying his legs out and just enjoying the pleasant fullness. It's been almost a week since Remus last fucked him, and that's just way too long. Christmas really spoiled him. He tugs the blankets up around him, because it's going to take some time before his body temperature is high enough to fight against the chill in his apartment.

"Have you tried out the settings at all?" Remus asks him, and Sirius picks up the phone, switching off speaker and holding it to his ear.

"No," he says, grinding his ass down against the bed to test the plug's reach inside him. "I thought you'd rather do the honours."

Remus hums, and Sirius hears the phone shifting in his grip. "I'm gonna turn it on, okay? Lowest setting."

"O--" Sirius stutters as the plug buzzes to life inside him, nestled snug against his prostate and sending little zings of pleasure down his legs. "Fuck that feels good. That's the lowest setting?"

"It is," Remus confirms. "Want to run through them all, see how high it goes? Or would you rather be surprised?"

"Mmmm, surprise me."

"Surprise it is," Remus says, and Sirius hears shuffling papers in the background as he prepares for his night class. Psychology 1001, Thursdays, 7-9:30PM. Two and a half hours of a lecture that Remus swears he's given so many times he could recite it in his sleep, so why not give himself something fun to focus on while he goes through the motions? 

Being privy to all of this brilliant, upstanding man's secret perversions is a privilege Sirius does not take lightly.

"You can turn it off from the app if you need to," Remus is saying, "Or you can call me and I'll switch it off. My phone's on vibrate, so I'll see it right away."

Sirius smiles to himself. "Got it," he says, though this is a rehashing of the rules that Remus had laid out when he'd brought the plug over last weekend. He'd called it a "late Christmas gift", as if he hadn't already given Sirius several thousand dollars worth of presents on Christmas morning.

There's more rustling over the line, the squeak of a chair. 

"Tell me again how you're going to be good tonight."

"I'm not gonna touch myself, and I'm not gonna come." The toy is still buzzing away inside him, making everything a little fuzzy at the edges. 

"Tell me why."

"'Cause daddy's in charge, even when he's not here."

"Good boy."

Sirius squirms with pleasure, his cock smearing a little drop of fluid on his belly as the toy hums insistently at his prostate.

"I have to head out," Remus says. "How do you feel?"

"Good," Sirius says, his abs tensing as he shifts his legs and the angle of the toy changes. "Excited."

"Me too," Remus says softly. "I'll talk to you soon, beautiful. Send me some pictures." With a low beep, the call disconnects.

[copperbadge]

I was making breakfast and listening to an episode of Just King Things this morning, which is a podcast I do recommend -- two very smart English teachers are reading the books of Stephen King in publication order and discussing them. This could go extremely awry except they're both highly conscious of his failings as well as his skill, so they do really well handling a lot of his less salutatory content.

They've hit the point in King's ouvre (this episode was about Hearts In Atlantis) that follows his recovery from the car accident that very nearly killed him, where he was struck by a van while out walking. One of them pointed out that it seems as though he came back from nearly dying determined to write the wildest shit imaginable and only write what he wanted, which struck a chord in me this time despite having listened to this episode before. Perhaps because I was thinking about my own writing and where it's going in the short term (there are a couple of short stories I want to do that I don't quite have a way into yet). I generally don't think about the drift of my creativity in the long term because when I do I usually draw the wrong conclusions.

I don't really classify my life, the way some people who've had high-impact injuries do, as before-TBI and after-TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury -- the fairly severe concussion I had in January of 2020). For one thing, given I had to cancel a trip to NYC because of it, it may have saved my life; I almost certainly would have caught COVID as someone with known lung issues in New York at the time. For another, the TBI was way scarier to almost everyone else; for me it was just one more dumb injury I gave myself and I didn't even remember most of it so it hardly registered. I used to open the story of it with a joke about waking up not remembering going to bed the night before, but nobody ever found it funny.

It's true that there are changes it wrought in my life, though. Even practical stuff like making sure my living space doesn't have tripping hazards and continuing to wear a fitbit even though I don't really need to (the fitbit told us, the morning after, exactly when the concussion happened, because it registered a heart-rate spike when I fell). For weeks after, I had to move slowly and put off making important decisions because I couldn't trust my physical or intellectual judgement; I didn't even jaywalk in my own neighborhood because I couldn't be sure I was judging the cars' speeds properly. For about a year after I had periodic post-concussion syndrome which basically just slammed me back into concussion space, which wasn't painful or upsetting but was definitely inconvenient.

And it's also undeniable that my writing shifted after the injury. It's not necessarily because of the injury, since my initial recovery from the TBI and the declaration of quarantine happened at roughly the same time, and anyone who tells you that a years-long global pandemic didn't impact their artistic expression is selling you a line. But the last thing I wrote before the TBI was the first draft of Six Harvests, and aside from the Six Harvests publication draft, which had fairly minimal changes, almost all that I've written has been blue-sky, light-hearted, PG-rated romance. It's been on my mind that I've been writing different subject matter from what I used to, but the timing of it didn't strike me until just recently.

I don't mind, really. I love fandom and I support fanfic in whatever expression it comes, but I'm also happy writing my own stories. While I'm aware it's been years since I've meaningfully written fanfic, it doesn't bother me per se, as long as I'm writing. It bothered me much more when I could write fanfic but not original fic, especially in those last few awful months at my last job. I'm proud of the literary and non-genre fiction I've written in the past, but it's also much more trying and frustrating to write at times, so I'm enjoying having a different sort of challenge that feels more fulfilling in the process. I'm sure at some point I'll go back to literary fiction -- there are ways in which it's hard to avoid turning the later Shivadh novels into literary fiction, being honest -- but for now I like what I'm writing, and I'm writing primarily to please myself and without regard to what's necessarily rational or linear.

Just struck me, is all, that it's by far the most noticeable major shift in my work. I do sort of wonder what will be next.

[dixons-sunshine]

Soooo headcannons would be absolutely amazing (tbh i'm obsessed with this story-)

Only if your up for it of course, just letting you know that I am interested (and I'm sure i'm not alone) bc you asked :)

Thank you for writing! Your work is amazing!

(I've also lost many drafts that didn't save and it's always so so sad)

Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU Headcannons |Young!Daryl Dixon x Young!Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine*

Word count: 840.

A/n: Ask and you shall receive! I have so many personal headcannons and I'm so excited to share it with you all. Maybe I'll incorporate some of these into oneshots one day. Who knows? But I'm really in the mood for Young!Daryl these days, so send in some requests for him if y'all wanna see more!

As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests, as well as Scud Frohmeyer requests.

—

★ Your ages aren't specified, but I headcannon that y'all are 17-almost 18 in this au.

★ As mentioned in Through The Good Times And The Bad, you moved to the trailer park when you were twelve. However, Daryl definitely didn't approach you first. You had to go up to him and start talking to him.

★ You were exploring the woods behind the trailer park when you stumbled upon a river. There you met Daryl, and since he was the only kid there who was your age, you wanted to strike up a friendship, although it was difficult.

★ I also feel like Daryl definitely didn't talk during the first few weeks when you went up to him. With Merle and his father constantly ruining his self-esteem, he was sure that you would recognise what a screw up he was and head for the hills.

★ However, when a month passed with you showing up at the river and keeping him company, he found himself looking forward to seeing you, and with that knowledge, he slowly started warming up to you.

★ The first time he ever spoke a word to you was when you accidentally slipped on a wet rock and fell into the river. He snorted a laugh at your predicament, and couldn't resist the urge to tease you.

★ “Careful. Heard the rocks in the river ain't exactly dry.”

★ You had laughed at him and splashed some water at him, and that was the start of your friendship.

★ Although you quickly became close friends, it took almost two years for him to start opening up about his father.

★ His father's beatings had started to become way worse and he started leaving more visible marks, resulting in questioning glances from you, though you never pressed for answers. That made him feel comfortable enough to gradually start opening up to you.

★ By the time you were both 15, you knew all about his father, Daryl's past with his mother committing suicide and his asshole of a brother.

★ This is definitely the "she fell first, he fell harder" trope.

★ You had started crushing on him when you were 14. However, Daryl only started acknowledging his own feelings for you when he was 16 and you had saved up to get him a gift for his birthday.

★ His feelings had smacked him right in the face, and the rest is history.

★ Moving away from you and Daryl for now, it's pretty clear that your mom is yours and Daryl's number one shipper.

★ She knows about Daryl's abuse, but not to the extent that you do. She only knows the "basics", so to speak.

★ She's offered to talk to social services for him, but Daryl had refused, so she offered for him to stay over whenever he needed to.

★ She totally already sees Daryl as her son-in-law. She knows for a fact that you and Daryl are meant to be together, even if you're only teenagers.

★ This might only be me, but I headcannon that your mom in this was a teen mom—she got pregnant during her senior year in highschool.

★ She's implied to be a single mom, so the dad split when he found out she was pregnant.

★ She lived with her parents to raise you until you were 6. Her parents eventually kicked the two of you out and you've been in and out of multiple crappy apartments before settling on the trailer park.

★ She's the type of mom who tries to give you the freedom you desire while still being strict. Hence the "if anything happens, be sure to use protection" jokes. She knows she can't stop you from doing that, but she can ensure that you don't make her mistakes.

★ She definitely "secretly" buys condoms for you and Daryl.

★ During the first few months of your relationship, she noticed that the box remained untouched. Knowing Daryl's shyness, she knew that it wasn't because you and him were having unprotected sex. The two of you weren't like that.

★ When she noticed after a couple of months that there was finally one gone, she couldn't help the teasing she bestowed on you when Daryl went home.

★ She has met his father a number of times. The man has hit on her more times than one, completely unaware that she knew his son. However, since she was aware of the abuse, she's told him to "fuck off" every time.

—

I have so many more! If y'all want a part two, let me know!

[avernusreject]

Warning ya'll this is gonna be a long post. But please join my descent into insanity, as I deep dive into the vague wormhole that is the durge betrayal pre bg3 timeline.

Before we start, it’ll help if you have context around the faerun calendar. There are twelve months in total, each having exactly 30 days. Additionally, weeks don’t exist in faerun. Rather months get broken down into chunks of time called tendays, which you guessed is literally just ten days. If that was too straight forward for you, don’t worry, they add in five extra days to the calendar that fall outside of the months (ngl I still have no idea where these are located) to make the full year 365 days. 

At the beginning of the game, the nautiloid crash occurs at 20 Eleasis. Which means, the game starts in the middle of summer. Obviously, the way you play the game is going to influence the speed of events, but for my playthrough I reached moonrise towers around 12 elient (total time being 22 days). When you get to moonrise, in Bathazar’s chamber you can find his journal that explains that Kressa (the crazy necromancer chick) managed to keep durge alive. This entry is dated “two tenday ago”. But in game, that makes no sense because we know that the nautiloid should have crashed around that point. So either Balthazar doesn’t understand how the Faerun calendar works (I mean same, my guy) or we have to change our frame of reference. I think its more likely that the implied frame of reference is the start of the game, 20 Eleasis (since the developers can’t control how fast the player goes). 

If true, durge was saved by Kressa around 1 Eleasis. Her vivisections took place after this in the following days. However, durge is taken away before the end of the following tendays (at least before 10 Eleasis).

Now when you talk to Kressa in the basement of moonrise, she states that she found durge only hours after they had been given the tadpole.

In the fight with Orin, she states that when she attacked durge she carved out a hole for the worm (ignore the Half-Elf part, that's just from the moment Orin turns into durge during the pre-fight convo).

The part that we're missing is when specifically the tadpole was inserted into durge. But given how the game describes just how utterly fucked durge was, there's a high likelyhood that the tadpole was given to durge moments after their fight. Which if true, places Orin's betrayal at 1 Eleasis. Giving us twenty days till the start of the game.

The piece that threw me for a bit was this piece of the narrator's dialogue when durge examines the pod, stating that durge had no idea how much time had passed.

But the blood in the pod is still fresh enough that Astarion is able to ID it as durge & in another dialogue choice if you examine the blood further the narrator states the blood hasn't been there long enough to rot.

I think this dialogue is more explaining that durge is actively being tortured by Kressa so time feels unending (kressa being the one who put them in the pod to begin with).

I've seen in other posts that Gortash's draft memoir explains that Orin's betrayal occurred during or just around the crowning of the brain (I don't have a screenshot of that unfortunately). But we have to take that with a grain of salt because Gortash is the definition of an unreliable narrator.

Personally, I don't think he's lying though. Orin's betrayal occurred in moonrise and there's really no other reason that Orin and durge would be in moonrise that the game has provided. Not to mention, the warden explains the last time that durge was in moonrise, they never left.

I don't think durge came to moonrise more then once given the fact that the warden, who had clearly been there a while, had no clue who they were. I find it hard to believe their identity would be kept under wraps had they been at moonrise multiple times. Employees have to gossip about something.

I think its likely that Ketheric, Gortash, and Durge tamed the brain in the days leading up to 1 Eleasis (like ~20 to 30 Flamerule).

In summary, the dead three had a Phineas and Ferb summer vacation by deciding to create the cult of the absolute.

And yes if you are wondering this is how I look now.

[ikroah]

A girl can get somewhere in spite of stringy hair or even just a bit bowed at the knees if she can show a faultless…personality! —“Personality,” Johnny Mercer and the Pied Pipers (1946)

It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’ #26 - Ring-a-Ding-Ding V

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Notes / Original Pencils / Transcript:

Notes:

ohhhhh my god why did i make this script so long my hand hurts this took forever aaaaagh

Welcome to the Lucky 38! This is a script that has remained basically the same for a long time but went through COUNTLESS extremely small rewrites over the course of production just to really nail Mr. House's dialogue. He's a long-winded guy, this whole issue is basically just him doing monologues, and I wanted to make sure it was all interesting and non-repetitive. I think I took out at least three uses of "merely" from the first draft.

One of the biggest production decisions of this issue was whether or not to cut the scene with Agnes and Cass and Victor, which immediately follows the end of the previous issue. The reason to include it was because it very necessarily established the change in location from the Vegas Strip to the Lucky 38 penthouse, which would have been jarring otherwise; the reason to exclude it was that it the issue was already extremely long and I thought opening right on Mr. House would have been more impactful. Ultimately, I did keep it, which was a good decision, but only because of the literally issue-saving idea to convey it as closed-circuit television footage instead of actual panels. Every single attempt at overlaying them with the lead-in to Mr. House was way too busy, but that idea really tied the page together like a nice rug.

And lastly, the framing device of the tarantula and the tarantula hawk was actually an extremely late addition to the comic. I had already finished the first three pages when I thought of it. My problem was that Mr. House's constant monologuing and Agnes' sad expressions got pretty repetitive. I needed something to break the action up while adding thematic heft and artistic variety. I've become a real enthusiast for wasps and tarantulas over the last couple months, so this one really was just a stroke of luck. It took only minimal revisions to make room for the framing device, with the most dramatic change being the complete replacement of the last page (which was originally just a splash page of the Lucky 38 in Vegas; bookending the first and last pages is so much better). So you see, the only reason for weaving a scene into this issue of a skittish desert-wanderer getting paralyzed and dragged toward a certain demise by a predator almost perfectly evolved to destroy it was just that I like bugs a lot. That's the only reason, yep.

Original Pencils:

Due to all of the photo-collage in the final version of the comic, there's a lot of panels and details that I (thankfully!) didn't have to draw myself. Sorry that the pencil isn't blue on the last three pages, I've been on the move for the holidays so they got scanned in grayscale by accident.

I did experiment with drawing the tarantula framing device myself, but ultimately went with the photo-collage method because the artistic juxtaposition actually made it much more readable when interspersed with the proceedings in the Lucky 38.

Transcript:

EXT. DESERT OUTSIDE OF NEW VEGAS. The city glitters in the distance, nestled between the shadows of mountains, with the spire of the LUCKY 38 towering above all else.

In the wilderness, a TARANTULA emerges from its burrow.

EXT. THE NEW VEGAS STRIP. On closed-circuit television monitors, a SECURITRON ROBOT approaches AGNES SANDS and ROSE OF SHARON CASSIDY, saying

VICTOR: Well howdy, partner! Fancy meetin' again here in Vegas!

CASS: What the fuck?

AGNES: Victor?

Unlike the usual police units, VICTOR's robotic "face" is that of a cowboy.

VICTOR: And heck, ya clean up nice! Sure lookin' a lot better now than when I rustled ya outta the bone orchard back in Goodsprings*--

CAP: *As was explained to Agnes way back in IKROAH #2. --Lou

VICTOR: --so how's about ol' Vic skips the rigamarole, huh? 'Fore all my yappin' makes ya want to go back, heh-heh-heh! I'm the welcome wagon, see. I'm to come and collect ya.

CASS: Agnes--

VICTOR: Boss wants t'see you, is what I'm sayin'.

AGNES: Boss?

VICTOR: Only of all of Vegas, friend!

CASS: Agnes.

MEANWHILE, the TARANTULA crawls beneath the starlight.

VICTOR: So why don't we mosey on over to the Lucky 38? And your good pal can come along, too!

CASS: I need to know what the fuck is going on, right now.

AGNES: I...I don't know.

VICTOR: And y'know, boss ain't ever let a soul inside before, least for not as long as I've been rollin' around on my spurs, so this ain't just an everyday social call, mind...

On the closed-circuit television monitors, VICTOR escorts AGNES and CASS to the entryway of the LUCKY 38.

VICTOR: ...but heck, I reckon ya'll oughta get along like franks on a fire! So come on! Lift's in the lobby here, and up to the top floor--and we can get the formalities out of the way before ya'll get [cut off]

INT. THE LUCKY 38 PENTHOUSE.

AGNES stands awestruck, looking upward, bathed in electronic green light. With horror, she ekes out a single question.

AGNES: ...what are you?

???: A "Hello" would have been preferable, but it'll take more than a crude faux pas to tarnish this moment. Who I am, Agnes--

What AGNES is looking at is a gigantic SUPERCOMPUTER and terminal, flanked by closed-circuit television monitors and guarded on both sides by SECURITRON police units. On the supercomputer's massive screen is the green-lit image of a face. The face

MR. HOUSE: --is ROBERT EDWIN HOUSE. The President, CEO, and sole proprietor of New Vegas--and more to the point, the intended recipient of a long delayed package.

AGNES: Oh, you...you mean the platinum chip?

MR. HOUSE: Correct. It's a...very precious artifact of the old world.

MR. HOUSE: My world, once.

In the back of the room, beyond AGNES, is an oil painting of MR. HOUSE, standing outside in front of what must have been a very large robot.

MR. HOUSE: In that world, I was the founder of RobCo Industries--a titan of innovation. We created a litany of robotic solutions for diverse markets, such as the Securitrons that you see here, and even a line of consumer-grade devices like the wrist-mounted Pip-Boy. But the platinum chip was, more than any other, my design. It was my vision.

MR. HOUSE: But it never left the factory in which it was originally made. Before it could even cool off from its assembly...we had the Great War. An international, thermonuclear bombardment of unimaginable power that annihilated the world in all of two hours.

MR. HOUSE: But not the entire world. Not Vegas. Not my Paradise. From my fortress of the Lucky 38, I saw to that. But as for the rest of the world, and my platinum chip--it took generations.

MR. HOUSE: First for the scarce remnants of humanity to crawl out from under their rocks, and for the world to at least resemble a functioning society again in which to do trade. And then for the work itself--of countless scavengers, treasure-seekers, and the like, all contracted to comb over the wreckage of Sunnyvale. It cost millions of caps, and later, New California dollars. And a not insignificant piece of my pre-war fortune as well. I, quite literally, moved mountains.

MR. HOUSE: I do not believe in providence, Agnes, but I do believe in destiny. How else to explain it? It was pristine when it was found. Neither the bombs nor the passage of time had so much as scuffed its sheen. But still...its value far transcended the mere market price of pure platinum.

MR. HOUSE: Amusingly, despite the discovery, I was still only as close to acquiring the chip as I had been originally in 2077. A final ordeal remained for me: how to ensure the safety of the platinum chip en route to its destination, from Sunnyvale to Vegas, without broadcasting its preciousness to thieves, armies, and raiders--or worse, to heavily armed fetishists for pre-war technology like the Brotherhood of Steel?

MR. HOUSE: Misdirection. Through a network of anonymous liaisons, I contracted the Mojave Express for a batch of deliveries, all superficially similar knick-knacks, to various intermediaries of myself. All but one of the orders were totally worthless decoys. But your identity as the carrier of the one genuine item was somehow compromised, leading to you getting attacked, and to the second disappearance of the chip.

MR. HOUSE: But look around you. Look where you are. You've made it, haven't you?

AGNES, still staring up at the visage of MR. HOUSE on-screen, doesn't respond. She frowns, nervous. The SECURITRONS guarding MR. HOUSE observe her stoically.

MR. HOUSE: Let me clarify: I had nothing to do with Benny's ambush. Heavens no! It goes completely against my interests. It would have been a perfectly quotidian day's work for you if not for his, and I stress, unexpected involvement. The platinum chip...belies its significance. For Benny to have not only discovered its delivery route but possibly enough of that significance to motivate such an act, this constituted a very troubling breach of my security. And I had been looking into it...but in a way, the issue seems to have resolved itself. Hm?

MR. HOUSE: A wild card. Now removed from the deck.

AGNES' gaze sinks to the floor.

MEANWHILE, a small shadow blots out the starlight in the desert outside of Vegas. It flies over the exploring TARANTULA.

AGNES looks back up at MR. HOUSE.

AGNES: I killed him.

HOUSE: So you did. I only wish that we could have spoken before you went rogue on my former protégé: if this story breaks, I can grant you amnesty, but not without controversy. And your infamy as an assassin could make our further arrangements quite difficult.

AGNES: Um...I didn't think there would be more to it than delivering the--

MR. HOUSE: Oh! Of course, of course! My apologies. Two hundred years of anticipation and yet I'm still getting ahead of myself. Well--would you mind? I've been waiting a long time for my mail.

The SECURITRON closest to AGNES wheels forward with its claw outstretched. AGNES reaches her fingers into a pocket beneath the belt of her dress to produce it: the PLATINUM CHIP. She holds it in her hand for a brief moment.

MEANWHILE, the shadow descends; the TARANTULA HAWK engages the TARANTULA.

AGNES relinquishes the PLATINUM CHIP to the SECURITRON.

MR. HOUSE: Thank you--it's a relief to pay for this chip for the final time.

The SECURITRON inserts the PLATINUM CHIP into a slot in MR. HOUSE'S supercomputer, feeding it into the drive with a CLIK.

MEANWHILE, the TARANTULA is fighting the TARANTULA HAWK.

From behind AGNES, another SECURITRON presents her with a stack of NEW CALIFORNIA REPUBLIC DOLLARS, which she gingerly takes in her hand and looks over.

MR. HOUSE: And I trust that you're satisfied with the agreed-upon compensation from the delivery contract, yes?

AGNES: Yeah, it's...it's fine...I'll be going now. Thanks.

MR. HOUSE: Oh? But you've only just arrived. I insist that you make yourself at home.

SFX: KZZSZZZTTT

The faces on the screens of the SECURITRONS in MR. HOUSE'S penthouse suddenly change from policemen to soldiers. AGNES recoils and tries to step away.

AGNES: H-hey, uh--

MEANWHILE, the TARANTULA HAWK pierces the underbelly of the TARANTULA with its stinger.

SECURITRONS surround AGNES.

MR. HOUSE: You are the first guest ever through the doors of the Lucky 38, you know. Nobody has so much as checked a coat inside since the war, so this meeting confers you a significant level of privilege...and inevitable celebrity. The people of Vegas have always gossiped, after all. Many have even clawed at the door desperately with dreams of being where you now stand. Surely you can comprehend how this compulsion to leave after such a deliberate and remarkable invitation risks considerable insult--to both myself and my citizenry? And very deliberate this invitation was. Don't you realize: if handing off my package was all for which you were needed, why wouldn't I have just had Victor relieve you of the chip outside? No, no, you see, as necessary as its acquisition was, the chip is ultimately just a key, for unlocking a new frontier...of possibilities.

MR. HOUSE: Possibilities for prosperity, peace, and technological advancement that haven't been seen in two hundred years. Possibilities greater than anything the New California Republic or Caesar's Legion could dream of, let alone achieve, by playing pretend in the clothes of their forebearers and convincing everyone else that it's statecraft. Possibilities--which if they key is turned by human hands--become certainties.

AGNES (a whisper): Are you not human?

MR. HOUSE: Don't let the video screens and computer terminals fool you: I am a living human. No less so than you. I just live with a particular set of, well...handicaps.

AGNES: You said you'd waited hundreds of years to--

MR. HOUSE: One could argue that the world has been waiting hundreds of years for this moment. Waiting for me. For the chip. For the long-dormant doors of the Lucky 38 to finally open, to a single and specially ordained individual: you, Agnes. And there are tremendous things waiting for us, waiting for us to accomplish them, together. I certainly couldn't do them with Benny. What do you say?

MEANWHILE, the TARANTULA has become completely paralyzed by the TARANTULA HAWK'S venom. The TARANTULA HAWK seizes its prey.

AGNES: ...no.

MR. HOUSE: I'm sorry--"No?"

AGNES: Yes--I mean, no. No! I don't want to help you! I...

Tears well in AGNES' eye.

AGNES: ...I just want to go back home.

MR. HOUSE: ...I see. Hmm.

MR. HOUSE: How do I put this in a way you'll understand?

MR. HOUSE: The die is cast.

AGNES, crying, looks up at MR. HOUSE again. Fear bulges on her face.

MR. HOUSE: Throughout the long delivery of this chip, several precise plans and fortuitous coincidences have aligned in just such a way as to make you, you specifically at this exact juncture, an irreplaceable asset in the ongoing endeavor of this wounded world's recovery from otherwise hopeless ruin.

MR. HOUSE: Your cooperation going forward is not merely crucial to this endeavor's success, but it's utterly non-negotiable. Should you entertain the moral issue of what's at stake, it's obligatory, even. It's why your refusal comes as such a...genuine surprise. Can't you see?

MR. HOUSE: I'm not a fascist, Agnes--I would never force you. But given the circumstances, I'm entitled, wouldn't you agree, to at least a brief demonstration of my vision? The vision that the platinum chip promises? Victor has surely seen your companion to the presidential suite by now--my other Securitrons can escort you to the basement, where I'm sure you can make a...properly informed decision.

The SECURITRONS close in on AGNES, who screams in protest.

AGNES: No! I said no! I already delivered your chip, I--I killed Benny! I-- I-- ...what do you want with me!?

MR. HOUSE: Haven't you been listening? I want what's best for you--for us. I know it's a lot, but bear with me for one moment longer, and I can assure you--that this is the beginning of something very incredible.

MEANWHILE, the TARANTULA HAWK has dragged the paralyzed TARANTULA back to the entrance of its own burrow.

The TARANTULA HAWK shoves its helpless prey into the hole, and then crawls in after it.

The TARANTULA is not seen again.

[ky-yk]

stand-in love (jwy x f!reader)

genre: fluff, angst || word count: 1k

author’s note: had this wony x reader fic sitting in my drafts completely empty bc i lost the original idea but thanks to this amazing (AND GAY) episode of love bites suddenly i can write again

you were known for a lot of things.

approachable, charming, and kind, you were everyone’s friend.

you were also quite clever: near perfect test scores, a continuous slew exemplary outputs used by teachers as “examples” for others (not without the scowls of some), and the eloquence that even the brightest minds envied.

you were a rational person. every move you made was calculated.

but you could not, for the life of you, remember what the hell was going through your head when you asked your best friend to be your girlfriend.

for practice.

in your messed-up head, it made perfect sense! you'd never been with a girl before, so why not practice for the real thing? you'd hate to be anything less than the best -- even more so as a girlfriend.

that would just be embarrassing.

so one day, while you and wonyoung were hanging out after class, you decided to pop the question.

"do you wanna go out with me?"

"huh?"

"f--for practice!"

nice save, y/n.

you stumbled over your words and waved your hands around as you tried to explain. "i mean, i've never been with a girl in that way before, you know? i don't wanna mess it up!"

she continued to eye you inquisitively, putting her fork down and leaning back against her seat. "and you think that going on a practice date is gonna help you?"

"it sounds stupid, i know," you sighed, putting your own fork down and leaning back into your seat.

"no no, continue. i wanna know where you were going with this," she urged you with an amused smile.

"you think that me dying alone is funny, wony?! man, what friend you are," you rolled your eyes at the girl while crossing your arms.

she looked at you, eyes wide and jaw dropped in disbelief. "i--didn't even say that?! wah, the gall of this one." it was her turn to roll her eyes.

you shook your head in amusement. "well, i was just thinking that it wouldn't be a good idea to go into it blind, you know? it's like a test; you've gotta be prepared!" you reasoned out.

"you're never beating the overthinker allegations, are you?"

"hey, it's a valid concern!" you semi-yelled defensively.

"i didn't say it was! it's just..."

"just?"

"a little overkill, don't you think? you can't just become the best girlfriend ever by studying or something -- it's not a test," she says.

you frown. "if you don't want to, you could've just said--"

"when did i say that, though?" she cuts you off.

"wait, so you would?"

"i mean, i don't see why not," she shrugs. "besides, you're paying, aren't you?" she asks cheekily.

"in your dreams, jang," you shot back.

"what date you are," she mumbled. you felt a small smile take over your features hearing the pout in her voice.

"anyways, just tell me when and where."

that was six months ago.

and now here you both were, cuddled up on the corner of your friend's couch while everyone else was seated around the coffee table playing some board game.

you looked over at your fake girlfriend, admiring her as she laughed at your friends' shenanigans before you poked her cheek. that seemed to catch her attention as she hums and looks at you like a puppy.

"i'm going to grab something from the kitchen, you want anything?"

"just a water, love," she replied.

"ne," you said taking the blanket that was covering you both off your lap and laying it on her.

once you were out of earshot, the group turned to wonyoung, faces ranging from confusion to surprise.

"love?" rei questioned.

"are you guys actually together, now?" leeseo asked excitedly, prompting gaeul to scoff.

"what do you mean, 'together'? i don't even like girls like that," wonyoung replied.

"sounded a lil too defensive, don't you think?" liz questioned.

"guys, let's stop ganging up on wony," yujin sighed. "that's for her to figure out."

"figure what out?" you asked as you walked into the living room, a glass of water in hand. "here you go, by the way."

"how this game works, y/n," liz chimed in, pulling a new board game out from under the coffee table.

"you wanted to play, wony?" you asked as you took a seat on the arm of the couch, looking down at her.

"nope, was just curious," she answered before she pulled you back into her lap by the waist. "besides, who's gonna keep you warm?" she continued, craning her neck to look up at you, prompting gaeul to fake vomit in the background.

you watched the girls play, unaware of your best friend's stare.

no way did they think we were actually together, did they? are we really that convincing of a couple? i mean, y/n is lovely, that's for sure. she takes care of me well, she's funny, and she's just so cuddly!

best friends think of each other this way, don't they?

slowly but surely, the girls started resigning and heading to their bedrooms for the night, leaving you and wonyoung in the living room.

"well, wanna head in for the night, wony?"

"no, i just wanna stay here for a while," she whispered. you leaned closer to hear her.

"why are you whispering, we're the only ones here," you whispered back. you note the proximity: breaths mingling with each other, noses barely touching, and her long eyelashes that you could individually count.

you also notice how her breathing seemingly quickened.

"no reason," she says, before leaning up and connecting your lips -- only for a second, though.

her eyes were hooded as she looked up at your wide eyes. that must've snapped her back to reality because her own eyes went wide as she moved to push you off her lap.

"wait wait, wony," you urged her but not before she pushed you away.

"i'm sorry, y/n," she whispered before going into her room and leaving you standing wondering what the hell just happened.