#Poorly made tutorial

[mr-arfvoil]

I love the way you do shading and coloring! Could you do a tutorial on it sometime? I love your art :0)

I’ll do you one better, here’s my poorly explained art ritual right now! (Gave me another excuse to draw King Candy, thank you for that.)

I mainly just fumble around and hope for the best. Usually I pull colours from references, but I just eyeballed it for this. Choosing the shading is pretty straightforward, move the hue and the darkness around and experiment. Like dark pink for the red bow tie, orange for the yellows, ect. Then use the smudge tool and pray. I used pink on a multiply layer for Candy’s stupid rosy cheeks. Last I make a new layer above the line art one—and using a similar technique as the shading—I choose a darker colour for the outline but only colour in some of it, leaving some of the line art’s original colour. Mainly due to laziness, but it looks good so yay!!! I have no idea I this was helpful or not, but if it wasn’t at least you get the royal fruitcake and his pea.

[rapidhighway]

extremely happy to have enough blender skill now to make this shit

[lil-gingerbread-queen]

Later, Bruce finds him climbing the cave to join the bats.

[yellowflowrs]

puppets

[childhoodgrave]

GET AWAY FROM ME

[nerdygirlramblings]

cw: poorly executed accents, technological inaccuracies

previous

Over the week between Laswell requesting you go off your scent blockers and the charity event, the barracks slowly carries lingering traces of sun-ripened berries and arid soil, your natural scent. The team is entranced. It hasn't escaped any of them how well your scent compliments theirs. You and Gaz smell like all the best parts of springtime. Simon's sharp acidic scent is tempered by your sweetness. When you and Soap are together, it's hard not to picture seaside picnics. And when Price is in the room with you, the others are remembering crisp, cozy autumn days.

Your natural scent grows as the blockers work their way out of your system, as does your control over it. "How'd ya learn that, Ren?" Price asks one night, back to you as he stirs his tea. As soon as you picked up on his steps, the strawberry sweetness in the air decreased.

The couch creaks as you shift to face him, turning away from the dossiers on the low table in front of you. "After I presented, Dad used ta pull me inta the kitchen for lessons. He told me ta picture my scent like the dials on an equalizer. Taught me how I could ground myself ta turn the volume down on any particular smell. Especially how I could dampen things like fear. And, of course, how to project certain scents."

Your eyes leave his face, looking at the wall instead. "Being an omega in the service is hard, so I used the blockers because conscious scent manipulation takes a bunch of energy, and I wanted ta focus my energy on the job." You drop your voice and whisper, "And I didn't want ta spend all my energy on something that essentially soothed an alpha's ego."

He comes over and sits with you. "Well, if ya choose, after this op, ya don't need ta go back on 'em. Ya don't gotta protect me and Ghost." He grins and bumps your shoulder, and if he's hoping that you off your blockers means the pack can have a proper scenting, he gives nothing away.

The night of the op finds you in a fancy hotel room somewhere in St. James, several floors above the charity event. You're set up into adjoining rooms: one for you and one for the rest of the team. The other room will serve as the communication hub while you and Gaz - because Price saw how your scent was affecting Soap, the doe eyes he turned on you when you weren't paying attention, and didn't trust him to be able to focus on the op if he were at your side - go to the auction to find Arella.

You'd gone shopping with Adam several days before, under Kate's orders to get appropriate attire. The dress he put you in is more extravagant than anything you would ever have selected, but after a few quick photos to Kate who deemed it perfect, it was off the rack and in your hands. Strapless with a fitted bodice with enough structure to hold you and a skirt that flowed like water, except because it's steel grey, it moves more like liquid metal. There's a sizable slit, up to your thigh but is mostly hidden in the folds of silky fabric, which allows you quick access to the tiny holster you strapped there.

Fashion was never something you were interested in, so Adam took it upon himself to find some simple YouTube makeup tutorials, then made sure you had all the necessary products. You were annoyed about the hassle with the makeup, so Adam made sure the hair tutorial was simple yet elegant and didn't require a mountain of products to pull off.

Though you were going in without scent blockers, Kate didn't plan to risk you, even with the support of a beta, to an alpha's teeth. She had Adam buy the most intricate collar necklace you'd ever seen. Geometrically structured with metal rods, it seemed more like a piece of art than a piece of jewelry. When you draped it across your neck and collarbone, it prevented an alpha from getting his teeth on your scent gland but still allowed you to project your scent unencumbered.

Being undercover didn't allow for the traditional communication hardware, so the boys had come up with an ingenious pair of earrings whose large geometric wrap both matched the necklace and served as an earpiece. They also fitted a mic into the structure of your necklace. The whole task force would be with you all night.

When you finish getting dressed and fixing both hair and makeup to the best of your ability to follow Adam's selected videos, you knock on the door between the room you'd been assigned and where the rest of your pack task force is preparing. You need both your escort and your comms before you head for the lift.

An hour later and you're on your second circuit of the room, Gaz at your elbow, holding your drink. There will be some expectation to drink while you're here, but Price had taught you ways to make it look like you were drinking or as though you did not need a refill during those trainings at the pubs around base. Static crackles in your ear and you hear Price's baritone come through as if he were standing beside you. You've practiced not reacting when the comms go off, but you're still a little startled. "No sign of Arella yet, but Spinner's on the far side a' the room, left a' the bar but looking out on the dance floor."

Neither you nor Gaz is in a position to see him, so Gaz lightly takes your hand and guides you toward the balcony door with a hand low on your back. It allows you both to get quick glimpses of the man, older, polished, and with a petite blonde dressed in ice white standing very close. Though you're too far to see any potential mating mark, she's wearing a collar necklace not dissimilar to yours.

"I think Spinner's got an omega with him," you say. "I might be able ta get information from her if I get her alone. "

"Appreciate the initiative, Ren," price rumbles, "but she's not our priority. Technically, neither's Spinner, but it's good ta keep eyes on 'im just in case." He pauses momentarily before coming over the comms again with, "Not going ta tell ya not to talk ta her if the situation arises, but stay on mission."

"Copy that, Captain," you respond.

Waiting for Arella gets frustrating especially as you watch people continually approach Spinner, who's taken up residence at a high top table on the outskirts of the party. You snatch the champagne flute from Gaz's hand and quickly tip the contents back. Squaring your shoulders, you look at him and say, "Dance wi' me." For a moment all he does is look at you, and you can't read the emotion in his eyes. You power through and tell him, "If we're dancing, we can get closer ta Spinner's table and pick up snatches of conversation. "

Pulling back, you search his face. "I know ya've got the hardware on yer phone ta clone Arella's device with some prolonged exposure, but is it possible fer it ta pick up short bursts a' data off other phones it's near?"

Gaz looks at you in awe. "Ren, that's brilliant! Cap, ya hear that suggestion?"

"Affirmative," Price replies, "but I'll be damned if I understand it."

"Just get the systems on yer end ready fer a massive data dump. It's gunna be fragmentary. Laswell's analysts are gunna have a hell of a time going through it. We may need ta send them some whiskey and good cigars, but honestly, if this pans out even a little bit, we'll be able to get a ton a' information on the kinds of people Spinner's meeting with. Maybe Arella's is not the only one who's dirty."

Once they get to go ahead from Price, Gaz pulls you close and takes to the dance floor. You'd learned how to dance once, long ago, but it's clear this man is trained. He waltzes you through the crowd near to the edge where Spinner's settled, and you hope to hell this idea works.

next

an: this is sort of what I envisioned for Ren's necklace, but more modernist straight lines

series masterlist | main masterlist

~~

taglist: @sirbonesly @z-wantstowrite @thriving-n-jiving @cecelia97 @theycallmevalen @boogeysmoth @cryingpages @riley13 @luxylucylou @lucienofthelakes @ilyztwo @chaosundcoffee @lostintransist @thegreyjoyed @honestlymassivetrash @thebumbqueen @maliamaiden @mordacioust @bina-passion-fruit @kittygonap @wanderingoperator @ghost-is-my-bbg @wolfbc97

[xiaberryy]

“i look like i got beat up, Caleb.” she deadpanned as she looked at her reflection.

adolescence comes with the joyful but difficult journey of self-discovery. they observe, learn, and mimic their surroundings. she wasn’t an exception from her peers who are obsessing over their looks, wanting to enhance their beauty with make up products.

however, she still lacks skill in that department and who else she’d go to if not the jack of all trades?

“i just followed the tutorial, Pip-squeak..”

however, it seemed like the jack hasn’t mastered this trade yet. after all, her soft cheek was dabbed too thickly with an awful shade of red and her eyelids were painted with poorly blended pink eyeshadow.

both teens sighed in unison. in the background, the youtube video continued to play but none of them wanted to pay attention to this woman who they deemed terrible at giving tutorials.

“don’t worry, i’ll figure this out somehow, okay?” Caleb smiled reassuringly while patting the younger girl’s head.

he never once let her down. so, with eyes glimmering with trust and hope, she nodded, “okay!”

the next day rolled around and he’s ready to tackle this top mission. he spent yesterday noon to night, surfing the internet for makeup tutorials, best makeup type for different face shapes, etc.

“you seem confident,” she smiled at him as she sat down.

Caleb took a hair tie and grabbed a handful of her hair, “well, confidence comes from skill,”

“oooh, are you a professional makeup artist now?” a cheeky grin was plastered on her face as she stared at his reflection in the mirror.

after he tied her hair with the right amount of tightness, he grabbed hair clips to make sure no hair covered her pretty face in the process, “i’m pretty sure i got the basics down but you can be the judge of it later, Pip-squeak,”

the first thing Caleb did was gently prep her skin. as he did, he couldn’t help but notice how incredibly soft her skin was and how delicate her facial features were.

it didn’t take long for it to dry. he began dabbing cushion foundation over her skin. seeing her face in such close proximity, his heart began to race.

she’s already so perfect, does she really need this? a frown appeared on his face without him noticing.

the girl stared at him through her long eyelashes before letting out a stifled giggle. he huffed softly while smiling, “what got you all giggly, hm?”

she teasingly poked his lower lip, “you’re frowning,”

her touch made his movements halt. he raised his eyebrows and pulled the corner of his lips into a lopsided smile. the chair creaked lightly as he rested his hands on the armrests and leaned closer.

“can’t promise i’ll stay professional if you keep poking me like that, dear client,”

she giggled while backing away, “oh no, that’s unacceptable. please continue with the service,”

a soft amused huff left him. he grabbed a brow pencil and twirled it around his slender fingers, “close your eyes for me,”

she tilted her head, “why? you’re doing my brows, not my eyes,”

his hand caressed the side of her face. it was an instinct of hers to press her cheek closer to feel the warmth better. “can’t focus with those pretty eyes lookin’ at me, y’know,” he chuckled.

a knowing smile spread on her face before she complied, “okay, then,”

Caleb filled in her eyebrows while admiring the sight of her face. he was glad she had her eyes closed, otherwise she’d see the lovestruck expression he had.

“what are we doing after my brows? my lips perhaps?” she playfully pursed those plump lips of hers.

it was an innocent question, but she had no idea how he almost leaned down and gave her a big fat smooch.

how could anyone blame him? she had her eyes closed and lips pursed, his sweet girl needed to be kissed!

when she felt the lack of movement on her face, she took it as a sign to open her eyes. the sight which greeted her was his back facing her.

she blinked in confusion, “Caleb? are we done?”

meanwhile, Caleb was pressing his palm over his heated face, trying to calm his racing heart which was ready to burst.

he dragged his hand across his face and sighed deeply, “i..need to go to the bathroom. hold on.”

without waiting for her response, he bolted to the bathroom with a speed that got her scratching her head in wonder if he really needed to pee that badly.

unknown to her, Caleb was literally dumping his head into a bucket full of water to cool down. it seems like there’s another victim of adolescence hardships aside from her.

[jellykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Yandere! Sung Jinwoo x Player! Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 025 ✦ ┆・

‼️[ TW: stalking, obsession, yandere Jinwoo au ]

┈➤ ❝ [ Ｌ　ｏ　ａ　ｄ　ｉ　ｎ　ｇ. . . ] ¡! ❞

You never really thought about it, you just downloaded Solo Leveling's new game out of excitement to want to see your precious Jinwoo on screen. Perhaps you're here to re-experience the story, or maybe you want to help him grow better. Or just watch him entirely.

After all, you played this game to see him.

Leveling him up as much as you can, getting frustrated when you run out of keys, gold and materials to max him out— You became obsessed with this game just as fast you became with the main protagonist,...

Not knowing that he could feel your drilling gaze on him.

Jinwoo really doesn't know how this happened. He just had a good hot shower after finishing a high ranked gate and sprawled on his bed like a starfish the moment he was done with his nightly routine.

Then all of the sudden, he awakened in the body of his pathetic self. The him he hated so much. He wanted to thrash around, feel his face, or even speak. But in the end, he is somehow stuck on making mundane things. Saying cheesy lines that internally makes him wretch.

Jinwoo felt so disgusted when he sees himself in the reflection on the puddles of water. Unkept hair that looks like it hasn't been brushed for days. His small stature lacking any muscles, he's built like a twig and Jinwoo cant help but feel a huge douse of fury washing over him.

He even tries to make contact with his old friends. He cant say or control his body, but he could atleast control the movement of his eyes. He tried staring at Ju-hee's face even. But he soon realized that she's not really there. it's like she's a hollow machine spatting out whatever.

He tried to summon his shadows who were thankfully still with him, but he could tell that his children are all asleep despite him trying his best to wake them up telepathically.

But most of all, he could feel your eyes on him. He could hear your taps against something. It took Jinwoo a bit of time to realize that he himself— Is actually in a game and you are the player, the player that is controlling him like a damn puppet.

He hated it at first really, he could hear your excited squeals and his head even spins when you toss your phone around when he does something remotely basic. When you spin him around he craves to reach his hand out and shake you as punishment for making him go around and around like some sort of carousel.

Jinwoo had no choice but to be patient with you.

Even as he wants to sigh in defeat whenever you level up the wrong stats, even as you prioritize the wrong things, even as you skip reading important tutorials, even as you level up the wrong artifacts when they have the shittiest substats ever.

Really, sometimes, he just internally begs for you to stop playing the game and let him go. Maybe if you stop, he would wake up and go back to his mundane everyday life.

Though to his dismay, you kept playing everyday ceaselessly. Leveling him up, getting excited over events, feeling victorious whenever you win even with your ridiculously poorly built weapons and artifacts or pulling something good in the gacha system.

At least you're trying to take good care of him in a way, he appreciates that somehow.

But the more time spent, the more Jinwoo is learning.

While you're oblivious to everything and just blindly charging head-first in the game. Jinwoo spends that time learning about you.

He knows at least that he isn't someone real in your world, and he is nothing more than a figment of someone's imagination.

And most importantly, he is apparently your favourite character.

The thought of it made him shudder with cringe honestly.

Like come on, seriously?

Choose better you dimwit.

Of course, that sent him in a whole spiral of existential dread. Even as he isn't in a mood for anything. He cant really voice it out or do anything about it since you are technically his master and he is depresisngly bound to do whatever you wish.

Ah, but who is he again? Jinwoo.

Sung Jinwoo, The Shadow Monarch.

Just like before, Jinwoo will swallow the system. But this time, he's not just going to hack the game code— He will swallow your entire phone system.

Take it as a revenge for making him live through his E-ranked days again.

... At least that's what he plans but instead he craved to wash his eyes out with soap.

The amount of edits you have of him in your phone, the many many screenshots of him you have in your gallery— God, he just wanted to die actually.

Then again, he died a number of times and still woke up again so he's just pulling his leg here.

As frustrating it is, Jinwoo wa slowly finding himself getting attached to you.

From dreading your daily log-ins to actually looking forward to the time you log-in. He even memorized the exact time you usually open the game.

With his little tinkering here and there, he started helping you out with your gacha luck. From usually hitting hard pity to get something good to suddenly frequently having red appear despite being at low pity.

He cant really intervene with the system blindly since you will get suspicious so he starts manipulating the codes into making you have better artifacts and substats. You're not that stupid to keep the shitty ones anyway so he's thankful for that.

Slowly, slowly, Jinwoo's mind deteriorated from simple endearment to outright obsession in a span of a few days or weeks— He can't really tell when he started to become attached to you, his dearly beautiful master.

It never really sunk in how much he adored you until you opened another game you've stopped playing because of him. Jinwoo was so infuriated he almost made your phone shut down since he was in charge of it's system now.

He badly wanted to destroy your account in that game but refrained from doing so since he didn't want you to become upset.

Through hovering around in the code like a boogeyman, he could see that you display signs of attachment to these insignificant characters.

These damn fools aren't even aware of your affections and are just hollow dolls made up of codes. They're nothing more than fools just doing whatever the fuck they were programmed to do.

Jinwoo gets increasingly pissed off when you grind someone else's materials, when you giggle and kick around whenever you hear and read a line from them. Veins would pop angrily from Jinwoo's jaw, almost as if they could burst any moment.

But he had to keep his cool.

He had to endure them since atleast they're making you happy even if he entirely hates the premise of something else stealing your smiles away from him.

Jinwoo behaved relatively well until you decided to abandon him just to grind for another goddamn character you're pining to get.

Jinoo prayed it'll only be for one day, but soon lost his mind when you decided to ignore him for a total of 2 weeks just to get that fucking bastard home. He found it so disgusting that someone else dared to be the apple of your eye. That fucker made you hit hard pity when he in comparison just gives you whatever you want. It fucking pissed him off on another level.

Of course, you decided to pop right back in the moment you get that character from another game.

But Solo Leveling suddenly felt weird.

The game wasn't really buggy or anything, it looked normal but somehow— Somehow, you could feel a pair of eyes watching you the whole time. it was an eerie feeling but you just shrugged it off as you having a weird sense of gut feeling.

But ah, it started to make you feel horrified whenever you play the game.

You try to move to another game, but somehow you cant get them to open. You tried to reinstall and install again but it wont budge. Even as you moved to another device it wont work.

All your games wouldn't work except for Solo Leveling itself.

Left with no other choice, you start grinding him again.

You often forget that weird feeling you have stirring in the pit of your stomach.

However, sometimes, you could catch a glimpse of Jinwoo's eyes— Glancing right back at you even when you didn't manipulate the screen into making it that way.

You shrug it off as a weird bug in the game or your eyes just casually playing tricks on you.

But one day when you left your screen hanging for a few minutes since you had to do some chores, you go back just to see Jinwoo's grey eyes staring at you.

Even as you try to move around, his pupils would follow your movement like a hawk.

Back turned, a form straight and poise— You are sure that he really is looking at you.

Attempting to exit the game was to no avail, since your screen would freeze.

Turning off the button served no purpose either.

And finally, Jinwoo would move on his own, his tailcoat swishing around as he finally turns to meet your gaze with purple orbs glowing so eeriely like the devil reincarnated.

His mouth would move, mouthing so sweetly with his deep voice vibrating through your whole body "You really should have just stayed put, otherwise, I wouldn't have resorted to this."

A hand would suddenly burst from your screen a strong hand firmly holding your wrist. Long and elegant digits were on your skin now, the grip so firm it made you shudder. You weren't given any time to panic or scream for help as you were suddenly yanked in roughly but also gently.

Your eyes would be shut tight, your body shivering from fright as the strong hold on your wrist still stayed.

Then, an arm would find it's way around your waist— Making your orbs shot wide open as they now once again meets with another's gaze.

The gaze you have been staring for so long, the slanted deep eyes the were seemingly carved out of the finest gemstones, eyebrows steady and straight as if it were drawn by the most talented artist, his nose and jawline perfectly angled that felt like it was god himself who carved this divine appearance so that no man could ever match against his unflawed features.

Jinwoo.

Sung Jinwoo

"Locking you out of your other accounts worked at first, but then it started to rub me wrong," Jinwoo starts, his deep voice seeming to echo inside your eardrums as he shifts your hand to his chest where you can feel two distinctive heartbeats drumming against his ribcage. "Maybe I'm guilty for making you frustrated, after all, you tried your best to get into them just to see those pesky imbeciles."

He then continues, "Of course, I could always lift the binds that I placed down. But even the idea of your pretty eyes looking at something else set me off"

"So instead of making you suffer with bullshit you shouldn't, I decided it's high time I bring you home with me. After all, you've always been begging for me, I'll grant your wish."

With a firm grasp around your chin now, he pulled you close, his lips crashign against yours for a heated kiss. Your heart would leap out of your chest, each flick of Jinwoo's tongue tickling and swirling against yours making your inside itch to burst. As you both floated in the dark abyss, your thoughts are put into a screeching halt as Jinwoo continues his assault on you.

Each rub of his slender fingers made you shudder, one arm still firmly around your waist while the other tangled itself in your locks to gently massage your scalp in order to make you melt into his embrace once more.

The more he kissed you so lovingly and possessively— The more the light behind him grew stronger.

And as it engulfed the both of you in it's cold embrace— Your conciousness was eaten away.

The next thing you knew, you are awake in Jinwoo's bed with the hunter himself cradling you in his arms while on his phone.

He had wrapped you in his blanket in a cozy way, one hand still playing with the back of your head as he kept it resting on his shoulder like a pillow.

"You're awake," Jinwoo cooes, tossing his phone down lazily as he presses his lips against your forehead sweetly. "It's still early in the morning, go back to sleep, we'll talk later about your new life and some... Rules you're going to be living with now. But you'll be good and follow them for me, right?"

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[kumkaniudaku]

TBT

Summary: A young Terry and Patrice spend a Christmas morning together.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: None. Just some holiday fluff.

Previous: Merry Christmas, Baby

A/N: I love this one so much. I hope you enjoy too.

The coldest Christmas in recent history was no match for the overwhelming heat Terrence felt beneath his thick winter sweater as nervousness crept into his chest. The low purr of his uncle’s Honda slowly disappeared into the bitter afternoon chill, leaving him no other option but to press the doorbell to the Ellis home and pray for entry. 

Weeks of planning, sneaking, and tutorial-watching had gone into this mission. Heavy convincing and a shoddy handshake agreement to throw a couple of dollars his uncle’s way for gas had him snatching a poorly wrapped package from beneath the tree and hopping into Uncle Myron’s front seat before his parents could ask any further questions. 

His hands felt wet and slippery under the warm pecan pie he’d begged his mother to make for reasons he wouldn’t share the night before. His heart raced as he carefully adjusted the pretty orange bow on top of a covered box, suddenly nervous about how it looked. She deserved nothing less than perfection and he’d labored over careful folds and clean lines to deliver her his best. 

Rustling and a voice growing louder as it approached made him stop short before he could press the doorbell again. He quickly pulled at his coat and stood a little taller as her father appeared behind a glass storm door.

“Oh! It’s just you Terry. Thought you might’ve been my sister. Merry Christmas, son. You gettin’ big, boy. You benching ‘bout 250 now huh?” 

Terry smiled bashfully. “Yeah, I am. Tryin’ to bulk up a little before Spring.”

“You doin’ it. Next time I see you, you gon' be bigger than me. What you got there?” 

Terry blinked twice, trying to think through a response as Mr. Ellis stared back at him before finally sputtering out a response. “A-a pie! Sorry. It’s a pie from my mama. She sent me over here to drop it off and say Merry Christmas.”

“And that,” Mr. Ellis asked pointing at the gift adorned in the pretty orange bow.

“A gift for Patrice. Is she home? I know she said she would probably be at the store with her mom, but I can wait. Or I-I cou-”

“Calm down,” Mr. Ellis laughed as he stepped aside with the door pushed open wider than before. “She’s in here helping her mama set the table. Come on. She’ll be happy to see you.”

A deep breath that created a white cloud in front of his face calmed Terry’s nerves as he moved past Patrice’s father into the house. He didn’t need directions past the wall of family photos, down the hallway, and into the living area. In four years, he’d spent entire days lazing around that house. He’d shared Sunday dinners at her kitchen table, taken naps on her bedroom floor, and played video games with her younger brother on the living room couch. This was as much his hang-out spot as his own house in his mind. 

Christmas music crackled and popped from the worn record player on a bookshelf full of Black literature, the object flanked by his two favorite photos of Patrice. He gave the framed memory of her fifth birthday party a glance and a soft smile like he usually did before making his way into the kitchen. 

“Baby Girl and Ros, the Richmond boy brought us a pie this morning,” Leon announced on his way through the living room and out of the back door to return to his turkey frying duties.

“A pie! How sweet!” Terry’s introduction made Patrice whip her head around to get a look at her surprise visitor. He offered her a small wave and smile that she returned as Rosalyn approached to give him a warm hug. “Look at you! Have you gotten taller since the school year started?” 

Rosalyn had watched Terry grow from a boy into a young man. Once lanky, slender arms now carried budding muscles and extra weight. The first fuzz of facial hair carefully shaved per his father’s instructions left light shadows. His voice was deeper and smoother than the once cracking alto of his youth. Changing mannerisms had him looking more sure of himself. His development alongside Patrice’s presented further reminders that the only thing certain in this life was the passage of time. She’d never be prepared but embraced it all the same. 

“A little bit. Think I’m at 6’3” now,” Terry boasted, smiling at the newest adjustments in his measurements.

“Six-three! I know your mama can’t keep a lick of food in the house,” she laughed. “You made your decision on college yet?” 

“Not yet. Still considering trying to walk on at A&T. I feel like I’ll like it there.”

Rosalyn smiled, knowing the reason for his switch from UNC Chapel Hill. “Well, that’s good. You and Patrice work well together. You can keep each other on track.” 

“I keep myself on track, mama. Terry too when his head gets all up in the clouds.” 

“She helped me study one time and now she think she my teacher.” 

“You a one-time lie and you know it.” 

Terry’s infectious toothy grin spread to Patrice from across the room, creating a spark almost tangible enough for Rosalyn to reach out and grab. She noticed the emergence of shy glances and extra physical contact where senseless bickering once lived. Knees that occasionally touched while they watched movies on the couch were now shoulders pressed tightly together in the backseat after school without shame. When they weren’t in the same room, cell phones remained pressed to listening ears as they ran down chats about everything and nothing at the same time. Their trajectory was clear. 

More conversations about hormones, love, and the perils of unprotected sex than Rosalyn could count had been passed down individually and as a pair with no care for their obvious discomfort. Both sets of parents could only pray that their children retained at least some information to use when the inevitable took place.

“So, the pie,” Rosalyn pointed out, cutting through the open display of affection. “What kind is it? Smells good!” 

Terry blinked twice to pull his eyes away from Patrice to look at her mother. “Uh, pecan. My mama’s special recipe.”

“Really! That’s Patrice’s favorite. What a coincidence.” 

Terry’s ears slowly turned red as he tried to laugh off Rosalyn’s observation. She winked at him and pulled the dessert from his hands, careful to return the gift on top before making her way to the food table.

Patrice nervously shifted her weight as she leaned against the counter for her first break of the morning, now hyperaware of how her body looked with a set of blue-green eyes following her every move. 

They’d matched unintentionally. Terry’s red sweater complimented Patrice’s white one with both teenagers sporting black bottoms to top off festive looks. Searching for something, anything to say, Patrice pointed at his head. 

“You decided to stop growing your hair out?” 

Terry ran a hand down the back of his fresh fade. “Yeah. My dad was on me about it. Said I looked like a hoodlum. I don’t even know what that means but I guess I don’t really need the extra cushion for the helmet now anyway.”

“Well, my opinion probably doesn’t matter, but I think it looks nice. I’ll miss the widow's peak, though. It was cute.” 

A twinkle of happiness flashed across Terry’s eyes, making his cheeks rise into a proud smile. The haircut was staying. No doubt about it.

“Thank you,” he spoke quietly, still processing the tingles rolling across his body. “You, um…you want some help? My mama showed me how to set a table. Fork on the left, right?” 

Rosalyn watched the pair watch each other with a knowing smile on her face as Terry took slow steps across the kitchen toward Patrice. He didn’t come there to set the table for a family he didn’t belong to. He came to spend a few minutes of stolen time with the only person worth existing in his small world. 

She stopped him before he could get too far. “That’s sweet of you, baby, but I don’t need too many people in my kitchen. P, you can take him to your room. You know to leave that door open. Don’t have me come back there and I can’t see what y’all are doing.”

Neither Terry nor Patrice needed the reminder but ensured they showed their understanding with head nods and verbal agreement. They’d been down this road plenty of times. Leave the door half open, answer when called, and keep your hands to yourself. The first two were easy. Resisting the desire to touch became more difficult as the days flew by. 

Patrice led the way down the hallway toward her room, making small talk before holding the door open for him to enter. The sunny orange and yellow motif hadn’t changed much since they hung out for the first time. Posters and photos of her favorite artists still lined the wall beside her bed. The sunflower plushie she called Sunny rested in its usual spot at the top of her dresser. His favorite spot in the house, a soft yellow beanbag, was empty and awaiting his arrival. He took a deep breath to inhale the birthday cake candle she kept burning on her nightstand before sliding his shoes and coat off to place them in their designated spot. 

She kissed her teeth as she flopped on the bed. “You gon’ stop havin’ your toes out in here.” 

“I should start charging you. People would pay good money to see these. Even in socks!”

“Oh yeah right. People like who? That Cierra girl in 11th grade?” 

“Here you go,” Terry groaned from his spot on the bean bag. He flipped through a random magazine beside him to avoid eye contact. “I don’t like that girl. We just hang out because Xavier talks to her friend and he be needin’ back up sometimes.”

“No way. She was wearing your jacket.”

“She took my jacket out of Zay’s car to be funny and I got it back as soon as I could find her.”

“Say swear.”  

The ultimate test. Saying swear was their way of ensuring the other was telling the whole truth and nothing but the truth. 

Terry looked up from the pages of Seventeen Magazine to look Patrice in the eye and confirm his statement. “Swear. She kinda annoying, honestly. Nice girl, but all she ever wants to talk about is reality TV and school drama.” 

“Ooooh. Terry likes a little substance in his conversations, huh,” Patrice laughed, exaggerating her words to mimic their creative writing teacher. “Let me find out you’re out here discussing Of Mice and Men without me. I’m gonna have to put my hands on you.” 

Terry scoffed at her threat. “Yeah, right. Plus, you talk about stuff without me all the time. I heard about you and Robert Mitchell kickin’ it after winter formal.” 

“That’s not what happened!” 

“Let me know what happened then.”

It was Patrice’s turn to explain herself. What started as a night between mixed friend groups turned into Terry sneaking looks at his best friend while she engaged with a guy that he frankly didn’t think was smart enough for her. He’d never share how it made him feel outside of light jabs to be annoying. 

He waited for her to stop chewing her bottom lip and respond. 

“Rob doesn’t like me. He just wanted to see if he could convince me to sneak off with him to the parking lot which I didn’t do. So he left me alone and I rode back with Vicky to spend the night. Nothing to see there, as always.” 

Terry took in her truth with equal parts sadness at the circumstance and anger at the young man bold enough to cause her pain.

“Dang, Treece, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it went like that. Want me to talk to him?” 

Patrice adjusted to sit in front of Terry at the edge of the bed. She kicked her feet as she played with her painted thumbnails. “No. I wasn’t even supposed to tell anybody. Plus, we both know that you don’t talk. Don’t need you getting in trouble because of me. Thanks, though.” 

“You don’t gotta thank me.” He was still gonna have words with Robert when he got the chance, but that was for him to know and Patrice to never find out. Trying to shift the energy, he pretended to use her fuzzy sock-covered feet as a speed bag to get a rise out of her. She rolled her eyes but allowed him to continue. “Wanna see your gift now or should I put it under the tree?”

“I’ll open mine but you gotta open your’s first? Deal?” 

“Deal.”

Terry chuckled as he watched her prance to her closet and back with an excited smile dimpling her cheeks. In her hand, she carried two gifts of differing sizes. They were expertly wrapped in shiny festive paper and a Carolina blue bow so that there was no mistaking who was the lucky recipient. 

She reclaimed her spot on the bed, setting the smaller of the two packages beside her before handing the other to Terry to grasp with two hands. “Okay, do this one first! Hurry!” 

“Alright, alright! Calm down.” Terry made a show of slowly peeling tape and wrapping paper from the large, flat object for no other reason than to watch Patrice squirm impatiently. She tried to rush him along but he wouldn’t give in. 

Their smiles grew in tandem once Terry ended his torture and revealed a framed pristine Francis Edward High School football jersey. 

He used his index finger to trace out the letters stitched to form his last name behind the glass. “How’d you get this?” 

“Coach Robinson let me have it for tutoring his daughter in Spanish. Then my auntie did the letters for free. Look at the pictures!”

Shock at seeing his name printed on a jersey for the first time distracted him from the small collage of photos neatly placed beside it. A picture from his senior night sat next to a photo from his record-setting game as a junior. Another capturing a game-winning touchdown had him reliving the memory in full color. But his favorite, a snapshot of them being crowned homecoming king and queen at midfield, made him smile. 

“Do you like it,” Patrice asked, her eyes wide and expectant as she waited for some indication of his feelings. “You can take all the stuff out if you want. This just seemed better to put on your wall at home.”

“I like it a lot, Treece. Never thought I’d have my own jersey. Especially now that the scholarships aren’t coming.” Terry looked over the gift for a few seconds more before giving her smiling face his full attention. “Thank you. Mean it.” 

She pushed her hair behind her ear and shrugged. “You’re welcome. Mean it.” They sat there, grinning and staring back at one another in silence until Rosalyn called their names for one of her periodic checks. They responded promptly before Patrice attempted to get them back on track. “C’mon. Open the last one!” 

“If I would’ve known we were going all out, I would’ve done more,” Terry spoke, preemptively apologizing for coming up short as he peeled away the crinkling paper. Patrice waved him away. They weren’t in competition. If anything, she’d gone too far in her pursuit of his happiness. 

A final rip of wrapping paper unveiled a small gift box with his name scribbled across it. He carefully lifted the lid and then closed it once he caught a glimpse of its contents. His face began to flush with incoming emotions. 

Nestled inside a plastic key chain was a photo of Terry and his maternal grandmother. His summer had been filled with dread that she may not make it through her sickness to end the year, a fear that was realized before the school year began. He’d all but camped out on her bedroom floor in complete silence, desperately searching for some reprieve from funeral arrangements and repast activities at home. 

For Patrice, it was a no-brainer to use some of her babysitting money to take a photo she’d nabbed from his MySpace profile and turn it into a keepsake. 

Terry stilled himself with a deep breath. “You’re nice when you wanna be.” 

“Yeah, well, you’re my friend and you were sad. It’s the least I could do.”

“Thanks. For real,” he whispered, holding eye contact a little longer before pointing at her gift. “Your turn. It’s only one box but there’s a lot in it. And don’t judge my wrapping skills.” 

“Too late! This bow is super cute though. I’m gonna stick it to Sunny.”

Patrice ripped through messy silver paper, discarding scraps at her feet her that Terry gathered into a small pile to throw away later. She popped the top on a white garment box and then squealed as she pulled a folded sweater from inside. 

Future Aggie. He thought the grey, blue, and yellow sweatshirt would be a fitting gift for someone finally realizing their dream of attending college. Patrice rushed to press the garment against her chest as she looked at herself in the mirror hanging on her closet door. 

She twisted and turned to see all her angles. “I’m wearing this to school on the first day back. Thank you, TJ!” 

Her announcement created a rush of emotions bursting in all directions. Something he’d purchased adorning her body? What a sight. What a feeling. 

The surprises and elated responses continued. A new journal and pens for her to use at her leisure earned him a high five. A bottle of Hollister body mist that she fawned over on one of their many trips to the mall received a wide smile and a few sprays on her new sweater. But her favorite was the gift that cost him nothing but time. 

A CD with “For Patrice” written in thick marker and Terry’s slanted handwriting caught her attention. Try as she might, Patrice couldn’t get him to spill the beans about the disc’s contents, instead pushing her to pop it into her dusty boombox and press play. 

“Uh, this is kinda weird. Recording my own voice for a CD. Feel like I should start rappin’ or something.” Patrice smiled as Terry’s voice flowed through the speaker like a late-night radio host. He listened with his eyes closed, too embarrassed to watch her reaction in real-time. “This is for you, though, Treece. Just in case we never see each other again after high school, I hope these songs are enough to remember me by. If not then all this shit was for no reason and just pretend it never happened. I’m gonna stop talkin’ now. Hope you like it.”

His introduction flowed into a collection of songs that they considered their shared favorites. 

Terry spoke up over J. Cole’s ‘Dollar and a Dream II’. “It’s for when you’re in the car and stuff since you said you hate listening to the radio. I figured you could listen to a little mix of stuff you like instead.” 

“You know I’m gonna bring this everywhere with me now, right? My mama’s car, your car, everywhere! It’s great.”

“That’s like three compliments in a row. You getting soft on me,” he laughed. “I’m wearing you down.” 

“Why can’t you ever just let the nice things happen without saying something? I’m startin’ to think you like makin’ me mad. You sick in the head, TJ.”

Justin Timberlake, T.I., and everything in between told the story of moments spent together, inside jokes, and unspoken feelings that flowed through romantic lyrics. While they listened to track after track as background music to their winding conversation, minutes turned into hours. 

Terry had seen all of Patrice’s other gifts, taken pictures on her brand-new digital camera, taste-tested a few pieces of her aunt’s pound cake, and found time to play a few rounds of the newest Dragon Ball Z game with Junior without the passage of time ever registering in his brain. 

In Junior’s dark, dingy cave he called a bedroom, Patrice and Terry sat next to each other on the floor half paying attention to the television while her brother played video games and half fiddling with the directions and pieces from his newest Lego set. 

Leon knocked twice and poked his head into the room with the family phone in his hand. “Son, your mama’s on the phone. She said she’s been calling your cell phone looking for you.” 

Terry’s eyes widened at the realization that he’d left the small device in his coat pocket across the hall. He scrambled to his feet, limbs flailing and socks twisting as he rushed to grab the phone from Mr. Ellis before the older man stepped away to tend to other business. 

“Ma, I’m sorry!” 

“Terrence James, if you weren’t somewhere that I know for a fact is safe, I would kill you! What goes on between those ears of yours?”

Patrice winced at the non-stop yelling coming from the other end while Terry tried to listen with a poker face. She couldn’t make out all the details of his incoming punishment, but she could tell by the way the call ended that he wouldn’t be enjoying time away from home any time soon. 

Terry hung up and bit his bottom lip as he turned to Patrice. 

“How bad?” 

He shrugged. “Not that bad. She was just worried. I do have to go soon though. My uncle will be here in like 10 minutes.” 

“I mean I didn’t wanna have to be the one to kick you out, but…”

Their loud laughter at Patrice’s joke was enough to get them unceremoniously ousted from Junior’s bedroom with the door shut tight behind them before they could fully re-enter the hallway. Patrice followed Terry back into her room and watched him gather his belongings.

“My cousin Imani is coming later today. I wish y’all could’ve met each other. She’s silly like you.” 

“Yeah,” Terry questioned as he tied his sneakers. “Maybe I could try and come over tomorrow?” 

“That’s okay. You’re already in trouble. I don’t wanna make it worse. Maybe we can all hang out for Spring Break or something.” Terry looked up from his task to smile at Patrice until she mirrored his expression while rolling her eyes. “What are you smiling at?” 

“You.” 

“Why? What did I do?” 

“Just be you.”

Terry wished there was a mistletoe somewhere in the room to aid his cause. If only there were a reason to press his lips to hers as the cherry on top of the scariest confession he’d ever made. Or near confession. He couldn’t tell if his words had made the desired impact until Patrice slowly shook her head. 

She began laughing as she handed over his coat. “You sure you don’t wanna switch your major from math to English since you always talkin’ in riddles?” 

“I know what I be sayin’, you just don’t know,” he laughed to play off his blunder. 

“That completely defeats the purpose of a conversation.”

Patrice waited until he was finished securing the zippers and buttons on his coat before throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him close. Terry stood stunned for a beat, too caught off guard to reciprocate her affection until a switch flipped in his brain to snap him back into reality. 

He jammed his one hand into his pocket while his free arm snaked around her waist to avoid breaching an unspoken boundary. 

“Thanks for coming here this morning. Gift or not, it was fun to have you around,” she spoke over his shoulder. 

He smiled though she couldn’t see. “I know how much you love Christmas so, of course. It was fun being around. I like being with you.” 

Terry held his breath as Patrice slowly pulled away for a look at his face. Her eyes scanned for some indication that he was telling a joke or simply being annoying but found nothing but sincerity in those intense blue-green eyes she’d learned to read. 

A glimpse at his lips made her subconsciously run her tongue over the bottom of her set. Her heart raced. His hand slowly exited his pocket to find a home on her hip. They leaned forward in sync, both of them closing their eyes for whatever came next. 

“Terrence! Your uncle is outside! Get your stuff, baby!” 

Though she couldn’t possibly know the magic unfolding in her daughter’s bedroom, Rosalyn had successfully thwarted an attempt to further break the third rule. 

The pair repelled like opposite ends of a magnet until they were back at their respective ends of the room. Patrice pretended to take an interest in the purses hanging on the back of her door while Terry quickly gathered his gifts. 

He fumbled with the packages on his way out of the door, timidly inching past Patrice in hopes that she would speak to him one more time. 

“See you later.”

“I guess I should go.” 

Words overlapped in a harsh head-on collision, making them both shrink away in embarrassment. Terry chucked and took the lead. “Ladies first.” 

Patrice adjusted the hood on his coat and smiled. “I was just gonna say Merry Christmas, TJ. I hope you got everything you wanted.” 

“Merry Christmas, Treece. This is probably the best one I’ve ever had. Even if my mama is gonna rip my head off when I get home.”

“She definitely will. I’m sorry.”

“It’s cool.”

Patrice didn’t respond with words. She offered him a sweet smile as her thumb brushed stray cake crumbs from the corner of his mouth. Another holler of his name from the kitchen forced him out of her orbit and back into the cold with Patrice hot on his heels. 

She bid him farewell from the front door, watching until the champagne-colored Honda was out of sight and Terry was just the faint smell of cologne far too adult for him on her sweater and the memory causing goosebumps on her arms. 

When Patrice turned to finally retreat back into her room, Rosalyn stood at the threshold smiling at her daughter.

“You two have fun?”

Patrice put her head down to hide the wide smile spreading across her face as she sped past her mother. “It was okay. Did Auntie Mae make the mac and cheese yet? I’m gonna get some.”

“Make sure you wash those hands, young lady,” she called after Patrice. 

The spice of expensive cologne left a trail of secrets in her wake. Rosalyn inhaled deeply and shook her head. 

They’d need a refresher on the rules before New Year’s Eve.

-----

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[airandyeah]

Footballplayer!Sukuna X Toughgirl!Reader Who Do You Think I Am? Pt.8

My Masterlist Series Masterlist

The server takes your drink orders—he doesn’t even have to ask what you want, because somehow Sukuna already knows. That alone makes you narrow your eyes at him, but he just grins like it’s no big deal.

Once you're alone again, he leans forward, arms crossed on the table, gaze sharp but not unkind.

“So,” he starts, voice low and a little gruff, “you gonna tell me anything about yourself tonight, or am I gonna have to keep bothering Gojo to get answers?”

You arch a brow. “You were already bothering Gojo?”

He shrugs. “He’s annoying. I can match that energy.”

You smirk, folding your arms. “Fine. I’ll play nice for once.”

There’s a pause, just long enough for a breath.

“I like books. Black boots. Quiet rooms. And people who don’t talk just to hear themselves.”

Sukuna holds up a hand. “Okay, wow. Personal attack.”

You laugh, and his eyes flicker like he’s just found something sacred.

“No, seriously,” he says, resting his chin on his hand now. “That’s cool. I like... motorcycles, horror movies, food that bites back, and sleeping in way too late.”

You eye him. “You don’t seem like the type who likes to sleep in.”

“I don’t,” he says. “But I like the idea of it.”

You roll your eyes, and the drinks come—he waits for yours to be set down before lifting his glass slightly.

“To first dates that don’t crash and burn,” he says, smirking.

You clink your glass against his. “You’re optimistic.”

“I’m trying,” he replies, and for once it’s not cocky. Just honest.

Conversation flows easier after that. He tells you about how Gojo once got his cleats stuck in a vending machine trying to kick it for a free soda. You laugh so hard you snort.

And that—that—is when Sukuna falls.

Not for your looks, or the jacket you’re wearing like it was made for you.

But for your laugh.

It hits him like a punch to the ribs. Unfair. Unrelenting.

His heart stutters.

He tries to hide it with a sip from his drink, but it’s useless. You’re still smiling at the dumb story, brushing hair from your face like you didn’t just rearrange his whole world.

And all he can think is:

Fuck.

He’s gone.

Somewhere between laughing about Tiffany’s poorly done eyeliner tutorials and your shared hatred for group projects, your hand ends up on the table.

You don’t even realize it until his pinky brushes against yours.

You don’t move. Neither does he.

It’s tentative at first—like he’s waiting for you to pull away.

But you don’t.

And his fingers curl slowly into yours.

It’s nothing flashy, no grand gesture. Just the gentle interlocking of hands in the quiet glow of the restaurant’s lights, both of you pretending like it’s no big deal.

Even though it is.

He runs his thumb over your knuckles once. Twice.

And then, like the asshole he is, he smirks. “You’re letting me hold your hand. That’s dangerous.”

You scoff softly, but your grip tightens a little.

The server returns with dessert—something chocolatey and obnoxiously decadent—and places it in the middle of the table before blinking. “Oh—I’m sorry. I forgot a second spoon. I’ll go grab—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sukuna cuts in, waving him off without looking away from you. “We’ll share.”

Your eyes narrow. “We will?”

He grins like he just won the lottery.

You barely get a protest out before he’s scooping up a small bite and offering it to you, eyes daring.

“Open up.”

“You are not—”

He leans a little closer. “I’ll make airplane noises if I have to.”

You roll your eyes, but you open your mouth, lips brushing the spoon as he carefully feeds you.

You chew, slow. “That’s stupidly good.”

“Told you.” He takes a bite next, then points the spoon back at you. “Your turn.”

You roll your eyes again, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips now. A real one. And when you take the spoon from him, your fingers brush again—on purpose, maybe.

His eyes flick to your mouth, and this time, the look he gives you makes your stomach tighten.

You glance down. Your hands are still intertwined on the table.

Still warm.

Still steady.

And neither of you let go. ~~~

The night air is cool when you both step out of the restaurant, the city lights casting a soft glow over the sidewalk. You don’t realize it until Sukuna chuckles, that low, smug kind of laugh that always means trouble.

“What?” you ask, squinting at him.

He stops walking, hand still loosely holding yours, and tilts his head. “You’ve got something—right there.” He taps his cheek with a crooked smirk.

Before you can reach up, he beats you to it.

You freeze when his thumb brushes just under your lip, dragging a smear of chocolate from the corner of your mouth.

It’s slow. Intentional. And when he pulls his hand back, he doesn’t break eye contact.

He pops his thumb into his mouth, sucking the chocolate off lazily like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Waste not, right?” he says around a grin.

Your heart skips. Thumps. Then it slams into your ribs.

And all you can do is stare at him, your face heating so quickly it’s a miracle you don’t burst into flames.

“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, yanking your hand from his to cross your arms over your chest.

But he just laughs, like he already knows—knows he’s crawling under your skin, knows you let him.

“Goodnight, princess,” he says, voice thick with smug affection. “Text me when you get in.”

You don’t say anything. Just spin on your heel, heart thundering, and march down the sidewalk like your legs aren’t made of jelly.

And behind you, Sukuna just stands there—smiling like he already won. ~~~

The next few days at school feel… different.

Your hand is almost always in his now.

He doesn't ask. He just reaches for it, fingers curling around yours like it’s always been his. And for some reason, you let him. Every time.

You’re halfway across campus when Gojo struts up beside you, sunglasses perched way too high on his nose and a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

“Well, well, well,” he drawls, popping a piece of gum into his mouth. “Look who’s suddenly all lovey-dovey in public.”

You raise a brow. “Do you want a punch or a kick?”

Gojo ignores you. Of course he does. “Sukuna, dude, blink twice if you’re being held hostage by hormones.”

Sukuna flips him off without missing a step, still leading you toward the courtyard.

But Gojo isn’t done.

He makes the loudest, most obnoxious gagging noise you’ve ever heard, then starts mimicking wet kissing sounds, flailing like he’s having a seizure.

You pull your hand away just to smack him in the chest. “Oh my god, grow up!”

Gojo stumbles back, laughing like a maniac. “I knew she had hands! Love that for you, Ryo!”

Sukuna just sighs, grumbling, “We should’ve ditched him at practice.”

You’re barely past the fountains when Tiffany corners you. Her arms are crossed, lower lip in a pout.

“Oh,” she huffs. “So this is what it’s like to get replaced.”

You blink. “Tiff, we literally hung out last night—”

“Yeah, but I didn’t get to do your nails or braid your hair or force you to watch trashy reality TV with me,” she rattles off with growing offense. “Now it’s all Sukuna this and Sukuna that and Oh my god, Sukuna wiped chocolate off my face and put his thumb in his mouth like a Victorian scandal—”

You smack your forehead. “You’re so dramatic.”

She gasps, grabbing your arm. “I miss you!”

You sigh. “I miss you too. I didn’t realize I was neglecting you, I swear. I’ll come by tonight. No boys. Just cheap nail polish and the worst show you can find.”

Tiffany beams. “Okay, good. But I am going to glare at him dramatically every time he touches you.”

You snort. “He’s gonna love that.”

“Disgusting,” Gojo mutters behind you, still miming kissing hands. “Young love. Makes me sick.”

Sukuna smirks and throws his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close like it’s nothing.

But from the way his fingers squeeze your shoulder—and the subtle pink rising in his ears—you know it is something. ~~~

The night is full of low pop music, glitter nail polish fumes, and the familiar smell of instant ramen wafting from Tiffany’s tiny dorm microwave.

You’re halfway through letting her apply a questionable glitter topcoat to your nails when she launches into a passionate rant about the latest trainwreck couple on Love is Lava: Island of Temptation.

“No because if he really loved her, he wouldn’t have kissed her twin sister behind the pantry!” she yells, pointing at the screen with a chip bag like it’s a sword of justice. “That’s just basic decency!”

You laugh—harder than you have in days. It feels good. Tiffany hums as she shakes the nail polish bottle again, then suddenly goes quiet.

“Okay, next hand—wait, did you hear that?”

You pause, frowning. “Like… what?”

A soft scuffling sound.

Then a creak.

Then a thud.

You both whirl toward the window—just in time to see a figure drop inside like a lanky, badly coordinated cat burglar.

“…Gojo?” you and Tiffany say at the same time.

He brushes off his jacket like he didn’t just break into a girl’s dorm room through a fucking window and waves with his signature grin. “Hey, besties.”

“What the fuck—” you start, but Tiffany leaps to her feet before you can finish.

“Are you serious right now?!” she shrieks, running over and smacking his arm. “You said you were gonna be stealthy!”

“I was!” Gojo defends, dodging half-heartedly. “You’re the one who said your window doesn’t squeak!”

“You climbed through it like a drunken raccoon!”

“Babe, raccoons are graceful.”

You stare at them.

Then blink.

Then slowly say, “Wait. Babe?”

Gojo pauses—grinning now like the cat who ate the canary.

Tiffany freezes.

Then she bursts out: “OKAY YES, FINE, we’re kinda a thing!”

You blink again. “Since when!?”

Tiffany grabs her glittery pink nail polish like it’ll shield her from judgment. “Since, like… last week.”

Gojo throws his arm around her shoulders. “I brought her snacks after late lab. She said my snacks were better than her last boyfriend. Sparks flew.”

“You weren’t even supposed to be in the building!” Tiffany hisses.

“Romance doesn’t wait for permissions slips,” Gojo whispers dramatically.

You cover your mouth as a laugh escapes.

“Wait—so this whole time you were teasing me about Sukuna—”

“And I was also making out with your best friend in her broom-closet-sized dorm, yes,” Gojo nods solemnly.

You throw a pillow at him.

Tag list is always open! Okay but, restraining order.... Tags: @nina6708 , @sherrieblossoms , @charlie-xo , @iloveredwineee , @kyo-kyo1 , @clp-84 , @book0fdr3ams , @enhasrii , @sanzuhoe , @strangelovedream , @keiva1000 , @tsumoorin Perm tags: @thenightperson , @makingtimemine , @nina-from-317

[richarlotte]

more things you swear by?

Japanese Lingerie.

I swear by Japanese lingerie, especially if you love detailed sets. My body doesn’t suit American-made lingerie now that I’ve lost so much weight, and I learned about Japanese lingerie from r/abrathatfits on my journey to find what suited me. The bras are forward projecting and give me a much better side view. I love buying matching lingerie sets, and the sets I usually go for are lacy and intricate; they’re incredibly well priced for the quality they are, and they fit me the way I like my sets to fit me. Buying lingerie is extremely feminine to me, and I love finding sets that complement my body. I’m still not as secure in my new body as I’d like to be, and good lingerie makes me feel beautiful again.

French Tips.

French tips are my go-to. They look good, they’re low maintenance, they’re universally acceptable, and they look clean. When done right, they make my hands look longer and thinner than they are, and I love that with a thinner white line, they look and feel delicate. I mostly do French mani-pedis; it’s a habit I got into when I first went to Chicago, and it’s served me well, so I doubt I’ll ever stray from it. The nail salon combo is widely accepted to be DND865 and DND473, and I do an acrylic overlay on top of my natural nails, keep an oval shape, and request a thin tip if I’m not doing BIAB again. I won’t get into the acrylic vs. BIAB debate at the moment, but I will say that when properly done, BIAB looks amazing, is better for helping you retain length, and it lasts longer than acrylic while looking better.

Classic Makeup and Flicky Layered Hair.

I love styling my hair and doing my makeup; it’s like a reward for waking up in the morning. I get to sit down, make myself pretty, and enjoy the entire process. I figured it was time to update my skincare and makeup routines once again, so I took the time to start watching makeup tutorials (Uma Jammeh, amazing) and using what products I already have to adapt certain looks to my face. As for hair, I’m obsessed with Sarmadina de Beaute as of late and layers. I think my hair looks best with heavy, flicky layers (Remington curls) if I don’t have the time to do a blowout, and I’ve really embraced the process of both finding styling inspiration and actually doing my hair. I found my ultimate inspiration the other day, ordered hair immediately, and cut and styled one of my synthetic wigs to get the look in the interim, and I’m smitten.

Minimal Jewelry.

I’ve always worn minimal jewelry; I’m a major fan of Cartier, and I’ve curated a small collection that I wear nearly every day. I love accessorizing, but I don’t like wearing a million things that have no meaning; I prefer to only wear things I love or things that have a story behind them. Gold is my metal and diamonds are my jewel. I prefer this combo over all of the other combos I’ve seen or worn before, but I also occasionally wear mother of pearl when the time is right. I dislike being weighed down by poorly made pieces; I think jewelry can be used as a statement (when needed), and putting thought into what I wear and what I want my jewelry to say has saved me a lot of misery. With the exception of my charm necklace or lavaliere necklace, I try to wear the same sets every day.

Lymphatic Massages and Red Light Therapy.

Now that it’s November and the weather is soon to turn cold again, I’m much more focused on cardio and my diet. Because I’ve filled my weekday mornings with Pilates and my afternoons with the elliptical and stairmaster, I’ve added lymphatic drainage massages and red light therapy to my weekend schedule. I’ll be in Europe, on the slopes, in the freezing cold for the majority of my winter break, and I’m preparing for that now. Lymphatic massages are a lifesaver for me, especially during allergy season, and full-body red light therapy is just an additional benefit. I’ve also switched from studio yoga to hot yoga and from the steam room back to the sauna, stopped drinking coffee, and really started focusing on increasing my flexibility.

Tinting, Tanning, and Toning.

I love having dark skin already, but I do tend to go wild with the self-tanning in the winter. In my mind, there’s nothing more beautiful than dark skin against white snow, and the darker I am, the better I look. I grew up being told that I was too dark, but I’ve embraced it. I’m proud of my skin, and I love the richness of it, and I use tanner as a way to cover up the scarring on my body and contour my face. As for tinting, I tint my brows and lashes darker than I normally would in the colder months because they don’t turn over or fade as quickly. I never ever tint my eyebrows jet black; that color is far too harsh for my face, and I can’t pull it off at all. I use the darkest brown on my brows and jet black on my lashes. When it comes to toning, I spray my entire body with the Ordinary’s glycolic acid and let it dry after showering for the best results. I swear by it for clearing body acne and preventing any body odor.

It’s similar but different.

[jesncin]

Spirit World, Ride the Cyclone and Death. A weird comparative analysis

Gonna combine my musical nerd and cape comics fixation together for a rambling meta thought. I've been reflecting on how taboo the topic of death is in media after getting into Ride The Cyclone (highly recommend watching the slime tutorial and Waiting in the Wings' documentary on it) but also contrasting that musical with how Spirit World handled similar topics.

Both stories cover characters whose lives were cut short from a tragic circumstance, but while Cyclone directly talks frankly about how each character uniquely grieves over their lost life (and eventually accepts death)- Spirit World uses death as largely an aesthetic to a generic fantasy superhero adventure.

[spoilers for Ride the Cyclone and Spirit World]

Spirit World is about non-binary, half dead half living Envoy Xanthe Zhou, as they go into the Spirit World with John Constantine to rescue Cassandra Cain Batgirl. They eventually go toe to toe with the spirit of a bitter dead poet.

Ride the Cyclone is about 6 choir teenagers who die in a roller coaster accident in their small town. In the afterlife, they are given the chance to vote which one of them they believe should be resurrected.

For Spirit World, do we even know how Xanthe feels about being "half dead"? What does that even mean? They died as (what looks like) a 3 year old, and have clearly aged 15 more years since then. So they can age? Do they need to eat or drink (they're seen with a drink in a Pride comic)? Xanthe keeps mentioning they're half dead and half living, but the comic doesn't seem to want to discuss what that means. How would Xanthe feel that they were essentially given a job as an Envoy the minute they died as a very young child? Was this even a choice?

We've already covered the numerous plot holes in Xanthe Zhou's poorly thought out backstory so I won't go over that again. But honestly apart from the thematically loose "the dead shouldn't be forgotten" moral, a lot of how death is presented in Spirit World feels so superficial. When Xanthe is formally introduced as this cool character with a giant sword hanging around a gravesite, fighting all these hopping vampire creatures... this scene would play out the same if you swapped the setting with a forest and zombies as bad guys.

The Spirit World is less an afterlife for the spirits to move onto and more an MMORPG setting for our superheroes to travel across and fight generic evil beings and encounter eviler, bigger, boss battles at the end. Then there's the poet clout villain whose problems are just easily solved by Xanthe promising to remember her. I've already covered what a lost opportunity thematically this character was in my last Xanthe essay, but this time I want to contrast her with Ride the Cyclone's Jane Doe. I also want to compare Xanthe with Noel Gruber afterwards.

Ride the Cyclone's musical numbers follow each character performing a song reflecting their wishes, and musings on life (this sounds depressing but the musical handles all this with comedy and wit), hoping to prove themselves as worthy of a second chance at life. Of the characters, Jane Doe is the mysterious odd one out. The accident decapitated her, leaving her to enter the after life with no memories and the people of the living unable to identify her.

You might see where I'm going with this. So in Spirit World, Wan Yujing was this famous poet mourned by an entire empire. She only goes monster mode when a handwave-y "time erodes all" happens in the Spirit World and she is eventually forgotten- so she becomes desperate to demand to be reincarnated by the Jade Court. Because her clout ran out. Again, I already made the critique in my previous essay that this villain would better link to our protagonist if she was a queer poet whose poetry was being purposefully straight washed as an act of queer historical erasure. But I want to bring up how truly unsympathetic this villain is. She gets Shakespeare levels of clout but still demands more because she isn't getting reincarnated fast enough. Xanthe promises that as an immortal "half dead half living" person that they will remember Wan Yujing, so she too can be immortal in some way.

I think about all the Jane Doe-s in the Spirit World who don't get to be famous poets that have Empires remembering who they were. People who died anonymously without a past. In Cyclone, the main character chooses Jane Doe as the person who should be brought back to life. Our cast of teens come to terms with the fact that while it's tragic that their lives ended shortly, they conclude "to say that if one dies young, they die needlessly... that is to discount the years we had. We had a life, she didn't. That's my vote." Since Jane Doe has no memory of who she is, it's only fair that she is given that second chance.

I get that Spirit World is choosing these "larger than life" characters as villains, but it's at the expense of their own supposed themes. Of all the people to die and face off our hero as the villain, a character who's essentially an influencer but somehow has an entire empire forget about her anyway feels thematically hollow.

Modern Superhero comics are suffering from a specific problem right now; they're not really about anything. Characters don't feel like people with interior lives informed by the context of who they are. Class, race and bigotry are only touched upon as lightly as possible. Queer characters are now Pride ads with no personhood or flaws. They punch gentrified crime and fight for no one in particular. Even recent adapted media such as My Adventures with Superman and Caped Crusader follow this. Superman fights white-washed xenophobia, while Batman fights gentrified, white-washed classicism. It's why comics like Superman Smashes the Klan, Catwoman Lonely City and Alan Scott Green Lantern stand out so much. It's been a while since these characters talked about anything that matters. Don't get me wrong, slop that's about nothing exists in every industry. But when these characters and worlds historically used to have more bite- it's especially obvious.

If I could be playfully conspiracy theory-like for a second; I believe Xanthe Zhou was pitched so that DC Comics can buff out their Pride Anthology or AAPI anthology with a new younger character. The company will give this character one limited series, but that's it. Xanthe will appear in the larger DC universe whenever big magic plots happen, but that's it. Maybe they'll get a YA graphic novel. I would love to be proven wrong, but the problems with Xanthe are baked in the dough.

Because they don't feel like a person, Xanthe feels more like an industry planted Pride ad. They're designed to be the most palatable and marketable image of Asian androgyny. They literally have no flaws to grow out of, and their backstory makes no sense. They weren't built to be a sustainable solo character.

So I want to contrast Xanthe Zhou against Noel Gruber from Ride the Cyclone. Because they're both queer characters whose lives were cut short at a young age.

In a dramatic lament, Noel Gruber expresses how if he had a chance to live, he'd want to live the horrible cinematic messy life of a French sex worker woman in post-war France. He struggled as the only gay boy in a small town and never got to kiss a boy before he died. It's a look into a queer life that could've been lived, one with all the messy texture and self destruction Noel couldn't have but desires. We get to see how death and queerness intersect into rich, unflattering, gender-messy themes. "I want to be that fucked up girl." Noel sings.

But what's Xanthe's deal? They died as a 3 year old, got brought back, avoided their family at all costs for 15 years, and then had a transphobic confrontation with their family when they're invited to dinner way later. If Xanthe grew up in a transphobic household, how did they ever figure out they were non-binary when they were 3? Could they even verbalize it? Or did they instead figure out their queerness after they died? But how is that possible when they already held a level of familiar resentment towards their family's transphobia as if they've had several fights about it? It's hard to picture a 3 year old having multiple heated debates about gender with their parents for this level of resentment to make any sense.

Details aside, how does Xanthe's queerness intersect with themes of death and grief? Well, it just doesn't. This scene ends with Xanthe's sister telling them that she bothered remembering them even though their parents moved on from their death (which makes no sense since the parents wanted to have dinner with a random 18 year old they correctly assumed was their long dead "daughter" but whatever). Honestly, the only reason queerness exists in this family drama is so that Xanthe has a tense relationship with their family. The story would be exactly the same if Xanthe was a troublemaker that brought shame to their family. Who they are isn't specific to whatever grief exists in the comic.

When people give the critique that modern Superhero comics aren't about anything anymore, we usually think of these comics as "lacking political bite and commentary". We don't often think of something like Death to be political. And even though it is in many ways, it's also a social taboo to talk about. Death is an uncomfortable thing to confront, even in the safety of fiction. It's what made Ride the Cyclone such a difficult stage musical to market.

So how does a modern mainstream comic like Spirit World fit into that? It just sits there in this non-committal way. Yes, this is a story about a trans teenager who died, but only in a cool Superhero Origin Way, not in any way that would make readers uncomfortable. Bury Your Gays is a stereotype after all, so we can't talk about how queer people feel about death. We don't get to know how Xanthe feels about death as a non-binary Asian American. Especially if it's messy. It's the reason why Wan Yujing's character can never commentate on themes of historical queer erasure. God forbid superhero comics be about something.

I think about how, in the original Hellblazer run from the 80s, John Constantine had an elderly gay friend who was diagnosed with AIDS but was killed by a homophobic hate group. The comic openly talks about the sheer amount of gay people dying of the epidemic, a looming threat that informs John's queer life. It's such a culture shock, to contrast these early comics with how John Constantine is written in Spirit World. A character stripped of his own queer history and is at the mercy of incessant slutty bi jokes. Where is the desire to talk about how death informs a queer person's life? The mourning of a lost generation to the AIDS crisis? Something John lived through?

How about how any of this intersects with being an Asian American queer person? Queer people of color are often erased or purposefully excluded from queer history and communities. As a Queer Asian American, what does it mean to have identities that are often perceived to be in conflict with each other? Would your queer Asian ancestors even be remembered? Cultural differences with how you'd mourn your communities? But answering any of these questions means an uncomfortable conversation for Spirit World. For Xanthe. It threatens to be about something.

Which makes it all the more silly that, of the two stories, a musical about teenagers dying from a rollercoaster malfunction is more willing to have that uncomfortable conversation. You should ride the Cyclone.

[tinytalkingtina]

If anyone wants a tutorial on how to make stuff in canva I recommend thecutestgrotto's very helpful guide

Update: 🐶 (B.A.D. D.O.G.) was published yesterday! Very glad the stommie puppy play sequel is finally out in the world <3

Rules: Send me an emoji in an ask, and I'll write 3-5 sentences and/or paragraphs from that WIP. No limits to the amount of emojis you can request, please feel free to send multiple! Thanks for the tags @sourw0lfs, @turinspeachjam, @felixir-of-moths, and @fkinkindagauche!

✨ The Steddie BB anon ban is lifted, so I can start sharing snippets from my "Cursed Prince Steve and Bard Eddie" fairytale AU! We are at 10.5k words now and I've actually started writing the action scenes, huzzah

🏴‍☠️ Eddierotica: "Eddie writes the world's worst erotica about characters who are just poorly disguised versions of himself and Steve. They're not dating" now features plot and an actual set up outside of the erotica! Gonna try and get this done by the end of the month if I can to align with the Switch Eddie week event, or at the very least get the first chapter up

👽 Back this week to actively working on my Star Trek AU Enemies to Lovers! Gonna do my usual hopping around writing chapters concurrently, so you may get various stages as Eddie and S'tevan's relationship evolves

Tags and a SFW snippet of ✨ under the cut:

Despite his initial reaction, Eddie had to admit the king and queen made for a striking couple. For the occasion, they had shed their usual robes, instead choosing to present themselves in splendid ceremonial armor inlaid all over with jewels, with matching crowns set into their helms: emeralds for Richard and sapphires for Margaret. Even a single gem among the seemingly hundreds set into the metal would be worth more than Eddie could hope to see in tens of lifetimes. Several steps behind them stood the prince, his head bowed. The voluminous burgundy robes and cowl concealing his appearance contrasted nicely with the simple golden mask and metal band affixed to his face and encircling his head. But much like his posture, the mask’s expression was a neutral somber thing, at odds with the picture painted by his parents. Eddie tried not to roll his eyes. Of course Prince Stephen hadn’t bothered to wear the traditional suits the monarchs donned for their rare appearances among the common folk. Not that it was much of a surprise. He’d had never seen the prince appear in any tournaments. The pampered bratling probably couldn’t even move in armor much less fight well in it. The king and queen stepped forward and in sync each raised an arm. An immediate hush rushed over the crowd as a herald stepped forward to the sound of a trumpet’s blow. “Hear ye, hear ye! Loyal citizens of Hawkins. I am sure you are curious why so many foreign visitors have come to our small but mighty nation. The rumors and speculation have threatened to shake this town to its very core! But fear not. Their royal majesties Richard and Margaret, in all their wisdom, wish to make an official announcement.” Eddie scowled as the crowd broke out into murmurs. The theatrics he often employed in the marketplace were far less charming on this herald. Especially because for the herald, the crowd was actually responding.

Tagging some folks to join in on the fun and work on their own WIPs this weekend (also more than happy to give a weekly tag to anyone who wants it as we move forward into BB season, just let me know!):

@lingeringmirth @vthx @hbyrde36 @pearynice @kikidoesfanfic

@sunflowerharrington @queenofshenanigans @little-annie @runninriot

@yesdangerpls @belladora @queenie-ofthe-void @onirislanding @apomaro-mellow

@augustjustice @bellandora @cxwzkeys @brvss316 @strangerthingswritersguild

[letomills]

TS2 CC downloaders & creators discussion recap

Under the cut is a recap of the feedback gathered from the comments, community replies and reblogs on this thread. Thank you for taking the time to give your input! I tried to organize everything clearly in categories, with what was most often brought up at the top of each. I hope I didn’t forget anything. If I did, or you feel I didn't do your point justice, or you didn’t get a chance to say your piece, feel free to comment (I can always make edits). The text in brackets [] is my own remarks that I'm adding to the report.

About CC in general:

The people clamored for clear swatches/pictures that show which file corresponds to which recolor, so we can pick and choose what to keep.

Many people would like creators to put their usernames in their file names (or object descriptions) so they are easier to trace back to later. Two creators had counterpoints to this. One who has a long username said: “as a creator, I don't like to be told how I should name my files (besides identifying the thing clearly, which I think we really should do). If I've made the effort to make a thing, take previews, upload it, write the post etc. Just spend 5 seconds of your life renaming the file to whatever is convinient to you, I'm not going to add 16 characters to each of my files to include my username (I still think that longer names = longer loading time).” The other creator said: “As a creator, I don't want to put my full username in tooltips (just SB) because some hair names are quite long and I do not have the time to re tooltip the names.”

On the topic of file names, many people agreed that creators should not put special characters and spaces in their file names, to optimize loading times. One creator clarified: “the filenames should always have _ instead of spaces, as apparently this allows the game to load them easier/faster [...] underscores should be the only kind of special character in them” [use the Bulk Rename Utility - see tutorial by @ilovethesims2cc].

Still on file names, a Mac user said they dislike when file names are too long because apparently long file names are enough for Macs to shit themselves [sorry if I misunderstood, never had a Mac].

Several people mentioned disliking poorly optimized CC (one person listed: “bulky for no reason, unused bump maps, comically large or duplicated textures, things that could easily be repo'd but are not”), one person pointed out: “There is no reason a TS2 object needs a texture bigger than 1024x1024 unless it’s a special case like a skybox.”

One person said they dislike when a CC post lacks basic text info about what the download is. On this note, another person said they dislike when a creator isn’t clearly stating what mesh their recolors are for.

Two people asked that creators state their stuff’s polycounts.

Two people said they dislike when the recolors for a piece of CC are only available merged together, as they want to be able to easily choose which they want to keep. On the other hand, someone who “takes all recolors anyway” said they would like creators to offer a merged version of their recolors [you can merge CC to reduce loading times using LazyDuchess’s CC Merger].

One person recommended avoiding just using “here” as hyperlink text, but instead describing what you are linking to, so that if the link gets broken we still have a chance to find the thing. In the same vein, they and another person advised against reliance on an image alone to give info about the download. As we know, images can disappear, and a Google search won’t lead to the item if your post has no text that Google can detect.

About the images that creators do show, one person mentioned a download not having a proper preview as their pet peeve. On previews, two people recommended that the piece of CC be clearly visible and the main focus. Two people said they like when a preview of the item is included in the archive (“helpful when looking through old CC”).

One person said they appreciate when creators give two download links to two different hosting platforms, in case one of them ever breaks.

One person asked for creators to always test their stuff before uploading [it should go without saying but we do see egregious things to this day]. Their pet peeve is “CC with obvious issues that can’t have been tested properly in game! Don’t just look at it in build mode or bodyshop, actually use the item in live mode. Have a Sim wear the clothing or use the object!” They pointed out as an example that some CC lights don’t light up. Someone else said: “if there are minor imperfections, that's ok! But let your downloaders know what to expect.”

One person said that they enjoy reading detailed descriptions of CC: “Share your inspos, what went wrong, tag the pieces you used if you are Frankenmeshing because I might want those items too! Creating and sharing is deeply personal, don't be afraid to share a part of who you are in your downloads if you feel comfortable doing so.” [If I may offer a slight counterpoint, I think detailed technical info + proper crediting should always be frontloaded. And then, in a separate paragraph, you can write about how you made this because your grandma used to wear something similar on those cool autumn days back when you were 6. But please, don’t expect your audience to have to parse through your life story to get the basic info they need to even understand what the download is.]

On subfolders: one person mentioned that they dislike when individual files are placed in subfolders; someone else said they don’t like many subfolders within an archive; a third person said that when downloading a ‘bulk’ CC pack, they dislike when each item has its individual subfolder (unless the object has dozens of recolors).

One person said they dislike downloads that include a large number of things that aren’t all part of a single coherent set.

One person said they dislike gift/mega packages that don’t give the possibility to pick and choose what you’re downloading.

One person asked that creators compressorize their CC, unless there is a good reason for not doing so, reason that should be stated [yes please! Use jfade’s Compressorizer, found on this page].

One person said they like when creators who make recolors give a link to the mesh they are recoloring whenever possible, even if the mesh is included.

One person mentioned appreciating when creators include base PSDs in their downloads [they were talking about hair specifically but I suppose it can be done for other things too].

About Bodyshop CC specifically:

Many people mentioned disliking when a piece of clothing lacks a fat morph (as one person put it: ✨“its literally bigotry”✨ [iconic]), or has a fat morph that's blatantly a quickly WSO’d afterthought. Someone said: “Absurdly shaped/clipping fat morphs that were most probably never tested in game before uploading are pretty annoying”; someone else said: “I make male content and am constantly flabbergasted by some of the UM Top fat morphs that make no attempt to align with Bottom items, or look completely ridiculous. [...] WSOs are a great starting point, but that's just it: a starting point" [I couldn’t agree more]. One person added that clothes should also have preg morphs.

One person really wants tooltips. Someone else further asked that creators give actually helpful tooltips to their recolors to make it easier to identify which recolor corresponds to which file [you can use CatOfEvilGenius’s Tooltip utility to give your recolors tooltips that correspond to their file names].

One person mentioned gaps in meshes being their #1 pet peeve [putting this in this section because I’m assuming they’re referring to Bodyshop CC].

One person asks that creators give their accessories unique BIN numbers to make them layerable with other accessories.

The same person would like creators to remember to delete the inapplicable ages in their accessories [this also goes for hairs].

The same person also appreciates when creators make custom thumbnails for their accessories, “especially for accessories that are not on the face”.

The same person said: “Accessories that are 'part of the sim' (like ears, tails, etc.) should be showerproof”. Another person had the same request: “Body part accessories (such as animal ears, tails, horns, wings) should be available for all types of clothing.”

One person appreciates when hair meshers specify if their hair is animated or not.

One person would like to see more hairs for toddlers and children.

For geneticized skintones, one person said they find it helpful when the genetic number is indicated in the file name.

About Build & Buy CC specifically: 

Several people said they dislike when CC objects are set to an absurd price (like a couch for 1 simoleon) [this can be fixed with Pick’N’Mix’s Object Relocator], and two people added that they dislike when an object’s price isn’t congruent with their stats (like when an expensive bed has a low energy score). A creator further said: “whats worse is sometimes items are cloned from a very expensive item, and then the creator has reduced the stats shown in the description, but the bhav still has very high ratings, or sometimes it can be the other way around, an item might have been cloned from a cheap one, then their displayed stats are set to 10 but the bhavs still have low ratings”.

Three people said that they really appreciate when creators state which category their object is in and what the price is. One person said they appreciate when creators give info about how their object functions (“Is it just deco? Does it have hobby enthusiasm?” etc.). For complex objects, they like when there’s a video to show how it works. 

One person said they dislike when creators place objects in categories that don’t make sense. Someone said more specifically that they like when objects are put in categories other than deco/sculptures or deco/misc.

One person said they dislike blank object descriptions or object descriptions that were left the same as that of the Maxis object that the piece of CC was cloned from.

One person said they don’t like when objects aren’t enabled for quarter-tile placement [can be fixed in simPe or with the Object Relocator].

One person said they dislike non-functional objects (like a sofa that’s a sculpture).

One person brought up two experiences they and their friend had with CC beds that didn’t have unique GUIDs and therefore would override other beds. In the same vein, someone else said they dislike when a creator forgets to mention that their CC is not custom but default and will override something in the game.

One person encourages creators to learn about the TXMT settings of objects (e.g. should an object be reflective?) and praised @pforestsims and @shastakiss for their CC in that regard. Another person said they dislike when an object is too shiny, which is also a TXMT setting.

One person said they dislike “transparent cut out textures”. [I quote because I’m clueless about this:] “I’ve seen this a lot on TS3 or other game conversions, where the texture has been imported without enabling transparency, and you get ugly squares around draw handles and such. Import the texture as DXT 5 and enable AlphaTest in the TXMT.”

One person said they like when 4t2 conversions have several subsets.

The Mac user among us would like creators to resize their walls and floors for Macs, otherwise they show up grey in game.

About lots specifically:

Two people said they like when creators show the floor plans of their lots.

[ponett]

ive seen you post about doctor robotnik's ring racers occasionally on twitter and would like to hear your overall thoughts on the game

I'm enjoying it a lot! It plays well, has a ridiculous number of unlockable characters and tracks, and is generally just really polished. This would be impressive even for a paid indie kart racer that cost like $20-$30, but for a freeware fangame that's somehow built off of Doom? It's nuts. So much love and care went into this. I've been having a lot of fun playing through all the Grand Prix cups and clearing out the challenge board, which I've only completed 47% of it even with over 15 hours of playtime logged.

It's absolutely one of the most hardcore kart racers I've ever played, though, and that's gonna turn some people off. While playing solo even easy mode can be difficult, especially thanks to the rival system that gives one CPU buffs over the others. Anything below 150cc is a complete joke for me in Mario Kart, but even playing on the "normal" difficulty in Ring Racers (now renamed "intense" in the 2.2 patch) kicks my ass, and if you place poorly in a Grand Prix race it gives you a game over and makes you redo the race. I can't even imagine touching the higher difficulties at my current skill level.

This is compounded by how technical the game is and how many options are at your disposal. Spin dashing, tricks, fast drops, collecting and spending rings, an item roulette that can be manually stopped, a high risk high reward chargeable melee attack when you have negative rings, the ability to harass and be harassed by other racers while positioning yourself before the start of the race, gates that can only be passed through when you have a high level of boost, lots of items with different quirks that reward skilled play. And of course, perhaps most daunting of all to new players, there's the game's unique slope physics designed to mimic how they work in the 2D Sonic games, which will often require you to either spend rings for a small boost or stop and charge up a spin dash to get up a steep hill.

All of these add a lot of complexity to the game that can be pretty daunting early on, which is why it has an infamously long story-driven tutorial to introduce all of these mechanics. I'm not sure said tutorial actually does the best job introducing how those mechanics will actually be put to use in races, but I can't blame them for thinking the game needed it. (I do have to admit I am annoyed by the game's insistence upon framing everything via Sega Saturn inputs, though. I had to open the settings screen to figure out what buttons the tutorial actually wanted me to press.)

Some of these things have already been addressed in the first couple patches, of course. You can now exit the tutorial way earlier, some unlock requirements have been relaxed, there's an option to let the game automatically use your rings for you, easy mode has been made easier, a handful of problematic courses have been tweaked, etc. And I'm sure they'll continue to refine the game based on player feedback. But it's probably always going to be a fairly hardcore game. It's hard and has a high skill ceiling by design. Nintendo's never gonna make a super technical new Mario Kart for sickos - not on purpose, at least. They need it to be a pick-up-and-play party game that sells 70 million copies. But a freeware fangame not beholden to shareholders can experiment more and try to cater to that more hardcore crowd. Say what you will about Ring Racers, but it absolutely has a specific creative vision of its own beyond "Sonic Mario Kart," and I respect that even if the game sometimes frustrates me

[crush-itis]

ྀི. ̞. ১ ✿ ㅤ𓈒 crush-itis

ㅤㅤ . ‿‿ ‿‿ ୨ ୧ ‿‿ ‿‿ .

ㅤ. 𓂂 Twisted Wonderland ⊹

💐 it’s almost Valentine’s Day!

✿ ͡ ݂ Epel, Lilia, Ace, Cater

ㅤㅤ. ‿‿ ‿‿ ୨ ୧ ‿‿ ‿‿ .

♥︎： Valentine’s Day special! I selected only a few characters this time because writing all of the students took so long! I hope you guys liked it anyway!… Guys, I actually don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day, so if it sounds like something you wouldn’t do in Valentine’s Day or found it kind of unusual, I apologize 😓😓😓 Anyway, besides that, writing these silly headcanons are kind of fun

♥︎： He’s nervous, but very excited for this day. He even highlighted the holiday on his calendar. He prepared these candy apples for you, carving them into abstract, and cute shapes. He had even written, and made you this childish, but lovely Valentine’s Day card. Inside, there’s the cheesy, infamous pick up line “you’re the apple of my eye” written in cursive, and in bright red ink. Be grateful, because he spent all day crafting it up. At first he’s nervous to give it to you, but he sucked it up, and watched you closely try his candy apples. He’s so proud of them, that he kept on babbling “is it good? Is it good?”—his hidden dialect slipped. Then when he catches his excitement, he’d probably blush in total embarrassment.

♥︎： He’s so experienced with the upcoming holiday. He knows all sorts of things ladies covet for in this romantic occasion. He was originally going to try something new, and cook up his “special” dish for you, but thankfully Silver nagged him enough not to. So he bought, and prepared the usual heart-shaped box of chocolates, a bouquet of your favourite flowers, a stuffed animal of your favourite brand with his cologne sprayed on it, candy, perfume, a specially handwritten card in his signature dark, gothic stationery, and jewelry of your favourite kind. He’s those types of boyfriends who would go far to make you the Boo baskets or whatever. He knows what could make you swoon, it’s his thing. But you can’t help but wonder how he knows so much of your interests. Then, when the holidays came, and the moon was taking it’s throne, he’d lure you into the dark cobblestone paths of Ramshackle, and surprise you with the basket, and the little knick knacks he made, carefully arranged inside.

♥︎： He’s broke af, so he decided to craft everything. Listen, he never has the time to pick up new hobbies besides shoot a basketball into a hoop, or be a twink with Deuce, and slack off in his studies, but since he really likes you, and favours you… it’s just one time. He had enough pocket money to buy these candy strips, and make them into these edible roses—he definitely found the tutorial on Youtube Shorts. He also tried sculpting you this really ugly jewelry dish; he knows it’s ugly, but he hopes you like it. It’s smothered in glitter of your favourite colour, and he even wrapped it in a satin ribbon! Then, of course, he made you a card. It’s poorly coloured in crayons, the letters are wonky, and even F is written backwards. But you know, he just hopes you’re happy. Then when it’s time to give it to you, he’d slip the gift bag into your hands, foolishly smirking at you.

♥︎： It’s the time of the month for showing off his editing skills, and surprisingly, he’s pretty good in that Alightmotion stuff. He edited this photo album of you, putting in your favourite song, and adding these sick effects in it. He posted it in his Magicam story, but it ended up getting only 3 likes (from you, him, and his alt account). He can’t help but be a little disappointed, but since it was meant for you, he’s happy only you two got to see it. He also bought you a Djungelskog—the money came from his patron—and of course, the usual card, and a cheap box of chocolates. He’s especially teasing today, always sneaking pictures, and recording you while you open up his gift. He’s so proud of the edit though.

ׅ ׅ 𝒯hank 𝒴ou !!