#but thinking of consistency... yeah grant is the best

[mutalieju]

Really Alan Grant consistently wrote jon really well. Also Doug Moench, he wrote jon with lot of empathy too and those stories are always a trip. James Tynion has his moments... the worst is Gregg Hurwitz (i have a grudge against him)

[stepfordgoth]

Honestly shout out to anyone who started following me before March 2020 and is still following me to this day, you're the real ones. I just did a bit of thinking and realized that the Covid era really did change/kill/fuck up just about everything for me and put me on a hamster wheel of misery that I'm only now crawling out of. Like obviously I can't blame it all on Covid because lots of things I experienced as part of that hamster wheel were results of my own decision making but honestly when the Covid lockdowns hit I instantly lost my job and also could no longer take my yoga classes multiple times a week..... So not only did I suddenly lose my source of income and the exercise routine that I'd spent years building (which is probably enough to make anyone depressed on its own), I also lost every social outlet with real people off the internet that I had at the time (other than my husband). On top of that, when everything shut down I was already dealing with a "breakup" with my former best friend of a decade that happened two weeks before then (Feb 2020, completely unrelated to Covid), which absolutely broke my heart. So I literally didn't have anyone other than my husband. So when the shutdown hit I felt incredibly lonely and disoriented. And then eventually I started to feel angry. And I think it all snowballed down from there.

My point is, if you've been following me for more than 5 years now you very likely have seen me at my worst and (unless you're hate-following me for some reason lol) I appreciate that you've stuck with me for so long even after watching me spiral into briefly becoming an angry, bitter, fat, day drinking loser bitch. Lol. I'm heading back upwards finally I think. 🩷

[hasnomoxxie]

Alternate universe time, lemme dump real quick

WW2 au was on the brain, so I did a couple clean ups to my Obelix design so that he matched my Asterix a little better- In this I think he'd be like an actual post delivery person, sending supplies to and fro (since he's the only one able to go out due to his strength). I did base this one a little on Obelis'h and mixed the old design in there. Haven't settled on anything for Asterix just yet or what he does-

But then I thought...

w h y s t o p t h e r e -

Theres TONNES of au tropes that could be done with Asterix (i say, rubbing my damn hands together like a fruit fly) So ummmmm,,, here are the most popular aus I could find but with the Asterix twist ^^

I scribbled these all in an afternoon, smite me whenever- I'll most likely never touch these again bc lowkey I don't want that stress. Ily Asterix

Genderbent/Rule 63

Comma & Monolita (genderswap) In the year 50bc, Julia Caesar has conquered the entirety of Gaul with her Roman army. Almost. The only place she hasn't managed to touch is the little Gaulish village towards the coast, home to the indomitable gauls. Thanks to the great druid Spoonfulofsuga, the gauls drink a magic potion that gives them superhuman strength, allowing them to consistently push back Caesars army with ease. The greatest of these Gaulish warriors are best friends Comma, a small but very skilled gaul who uses her wits to get herself out of any sticky situation, and Monolita, a large but well meaning menhir deliverer with incredible strength due to her falling into the cauldron of magic potion as a baby. These two are often sent off by their Chief Criticaldata to carry out tasks and go on adventures in distant lands before returning home to a feast of roast boar, cooked by the men of the village.

By Toutatis, turns out a lot of Genderbent Asterix stuff exists but still, its one of the most popular so gave it a shot in my own way. Dude, thinking of the names is so much fun. Plus female obelix has my heart uaua.

Role/Personality swap

Obeswix & Asterswix (Roleswap) In the year 50bc, Thea Cleopatra has conquered the entirety of Gaul. Almost. The only place she hasn't managed to touch is the little Gaulish village towards the coast, home to the invincible gauls. Thanks to the great druid Valueaddedtax that grants them invulnerability, allowing them to resist Cleopatras armies and send them running back to where they came from. The greatest of these Gaulish warriors are best friends Obeswix, the largest but also the smartest gaul in the village able to use both his size and skill to his advantage, and Asterswix, a clumsy but kind hearted gaul with a temper whenever anyone points out his size and permanent invulnerability due to him falling into the cauldron of invulnerability potion as a baby. These two have incredible chemistry with each other and are often sent off by their Chief to carry out tasks or go on adventures in distant lands before returning home to a feast of roast boar.

The titular bitchular, if anyone gets this far and says undertale. YEAH HI I THINK UNDERTALE IS COOL. Yk those three/four swaps are the ones I thought of. I think Valuaddedtax and his potion would be cool to explore

like, cmon. Be real, this is lowk sick too

Bizzaro/Mirror-verse

Brackix ⅋ Gigantix (Fell/dark twisted glimse into my fucked up mind that would simply make one go insane lmao this is all a joke) In the year 50bc, Julius Caesar has ordered a full scale invasion of Amorica, claiming each new country as his own with his roman army. That is until he and his army arrived to the last standing gaulish village, home to the irascible gauls. To Caesar's surprise, the village, that he assumed was filled with defenceless gauls, was filled with hulking monsters with super strength that quickly decimates Caesars armies. Instead of fleeing, this greatly intrigues Caesar- If his legion can take down a village of superhuman gauls, not only would he have fully conquered Amorica, but finding the root of these gauls power would give him the strongest army throughout the world. Unbeknownst to him, the source of this power is from a potion, one brewed by the druid Supatoxix, that grants the user super strength at the cost of making them mindless hulking masses of destruction. There's often lots of brutal violence in the gaulish village and not everyone gets along with one another, especially the strongest fighters. These would be Brackix, a caniving and sarcastic but the smartest gaul in the village that often views those around him are dumber than he is, and Gigantix, a stonefaced beast with a pure heart who (after following a young Brackix's advice to stand up to his childhood bullies by breaking into the druid's hut to steal some potion) accidently fell into the cauldron of potion as a baby and has permanently been stuck as a towering monster. As the village deems that Gigantix's condition is Brackix's fault, he's often seen taking care of him, as any negative outburst from Gigantix would be negatively reflected onto Brackix. Otherwise, these two would often be sent out by their chief to scope the encompassing areas for Romans and the first chance to knock the tyrant out of commission.

Summoned all the writing skills back from when I was like 7 for this one. Ngl, kinda interesting??? Tho lowkey I prefer the cartoony bonking and paffing of Romans to actually take this one seriously Whatever ^^ I DID SOMETHING AND IT SHOULD BE ARRIVING NEXT WEEK, AND IF IT TURNS OUT WELL I MIGHT DO SOME MORE. Fingers crossed (yes it it asterix related). I need to draw Caesar BADLY ALSO I READ ASTERIX AND OBELIX ALL AT SEA?? what the FART? MY BABY IS STRESSED THE FUCK OUT THROUGHOUT, HAD MYSELF STRESSED AND IK ALL THE COMICS END THE SAME BUT I WAS STILL STRESSED TF OUT. spongebob rollercoaster image but ngl I genuinely was stressed in the first half

Juicy lore mmhmm yes yes. The them appreciation panel for today

Absolute banger so far I think, I LOVE comics!

[couch-potato28]

Imagine being a Blue Lock manager! ⚽

PROLOGUE

(a/n: Hey everybody! First time writing here, so please 🙏 excuse my poor looking posts and grammatical errors /let me know if u see any!!/ English is not my first language so pls take that into account O.O tyy ❤️)

WARNING!-there's i think one swear word

wc: 2.8 k words im sry really, like i yap a lot 😭

ALSO: please let me know if you're interested in the continuation

Imagine that in addition to your logical thinking, communicational skills and physical performance, Blue Lock also tests your mental health, because if you excel in these 4 areas, you might be worthy to become a manager of one of their players. However, competing with 199 other girls who are going through the same ordeal, let's admit, doesn't really calm your nerves. But how did you even end up in Blue Lock in the first place?

—————— Saturday morning, sitting in the corner of a nearby coffee shop, with your books open, laptop fully charged, your phone on silent mode with of course, a cup of caffeine on the side, you are ready to conquer those history notes.

You had already started to memorize everything the previous week, so today was really about practicing, and revising. After cracking your back, and sipping some coffee, you began reading the first few lines on your laptop, occasionally peeking at the highlighted parts of your book in case you got stuck.

Time passed quickly, and when you looked at the clock on your phone screen, it turned out that you had been repeating ridiculously difficult names, dates, places and events which were described in an awful lot of detail for exactly 1 hour and 32 minutes. Seeing that, you decided to take a well-deserved break, which actually just consisted of texting, and watching funny cat videos.

Closing your laptop and books, you gave yourself half an hour to rest, so that time wouldn't double leading to you procrastinating and forgetting everything you'd just revised. Reaching for your phone and turning off the silent mode, you started reading the few messages that had come in during your study session. Most of them were sent from your best friend, briefly stating that she had fallen asleep and will probably have stay up all night to cramp whatever material she can get into her head, hoping that she somehow manages to pass on Monday.

Told ya to set an alarm >:( Well, you should have accepted my offer to study together HAHAHA good luck btw :D

You wrote in response, feeling kinda sorry for her before going straight to your emails after seeing a notification, where you found a recently received message with a strange title.

“BLUE LOCK INVITATION”

What the hell is Blue Lock? And why did you get an invitation? Your initial thought was that it’s a scam, and were trying to delete the email if your stupid finger hadn’t slipped, making it press and open the email. Great, now your eyes were glued to the screen, trying to read whatever was on the message.

“Dear L/N Y/N!

We are honored to invite you to the Blue Lock Manager Training Program, where you will be granted the chance to work with one of our future star football players. We hope you will consider the offer because this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If you are interested, please come to the following address and time.

Any further questions will be answered on-site!

Blue Lock Assistant and Health Manager,

Anri Teieri”

Um, what the fuck. Yeah, doesn’t sound sketchy at aaall…as you read the letter over and over again, trying to make sense of it, not understanding how they even knew about your existence in the first place and more importantly…how did they get your email address? Although that wasn’t the point, it piqued your interest. You had so many questions yet you could only get answers on the spot.

“Smart tactic.”-you said, before browsing the internet to find something about this Blue Lock project. About 20 minutes later though, you leaned back into your chair and sighed in defeat as there was not a single thing about Blue Lock at all. The only thing you had was this quite fancy looking email.

Finishing the rest of your coffee, you began to think about the offer and whether or not to go. Your current job wasn’t good neither was the payment, which is why you recently had to take on a second job. But from what you read about the program, if you were to actually work with a soon to be star football player, the pay would probably be high. Plus, how hard can it be to manage a person, right?

After thoroughly thinking about the offer, you decided to give it a chance. Finishing the rest of your work, you came home and talked to your parents somehow persuading them to agree. Later that day you also informed your best friend as well. The weekend passed as you successfully finished your history exam on Monday and then you headed straight to the so-called Blue Lock building, the very next day. ——————

That's how you ended up in your current situation. On your first day there, they led you to a big hall with a bunch of people. To be specific, young girls around your age. Looking around for a bit, you realized that there were a lot of girls indeed, but no boys in sight. Finding it a bit strange, but shrugging it off, you turned around to face a huge stage, where moments later a pink-haired woman appeared, whose name you assumed and now know is Anri, introduced herself and greeted you from a big podium with a mic in her hand.

Finishing the brief intro she then continued with a very thorough and detailed speech, revealing that if you agreed to the conditions of the program, you would technically be locked up in the building for the next 3 months and would participate in intensive training, where you potentially could be eliminated for poor results.

“There goes my money…”-you thought, since you never really cared about football in your life nor did you know anything about it. Which in retrospect, you should have done or researched a bit before coming here since you applied to be a football player's manager after all.

“Well, it doesn't matter now anyway.”-you told yourself for some comfort. After Anri had finished her monologue, she instructed everyone that:

“If you agree and ready to take on the challenge then please go through this door!”-pointing with her microphone at a huge dark blue door that was slowly opening.

Hesitating a bit, you thought about all the possible things that could go wrong, but after a not-so-long train of thoughts you managed to convince yourself. Also that little push by a girl running towards the doors sealed the deal for you as you slowly started to walk towards the unknown.

“I mean, what can I lose, right? My sanity is gone already and even if I get eliminated, I'm just going to go back to my normal life again”-you whispered, and with a small grin you officially entered Blue Lock.

——————

To your surprise, the facility was quite clean and not to mention huge since most likely somewhere on the other side of the building, boys were kicking balls and running laps. Following the others, you arrived in what you assumed was a large waiting room with multiple TV screens on the walls. After managing to squish yourself through the crowd, a sudden voice spoke from the speakers and an egg-headed guy with a strangely perfect bowl cut appeared on the screens, introducing himself.

“Hello, diamond grinders! My name is Jinpachi Ego, the coach of the players in Blue Lock, and the overall boss of the facility. I guess you already know why you’re here so I won’t bother with that anymore. First, let’s start with a quick count, which is...currently 200 people.”-he said as you looked around with wide eyes. The fact is, there were indeed many people besides you, but you didn't think such a large amount of them would participate.

'Pfft, no worries…'-you encouraged yourself, realizing that you’d probably get kicked out on the second day, if not today. You looked up to the screens again, and bowl cut continued.

“Out of these 200 people, the best performers will be given the best athletes to work with. But! You have to know what you’re doing. From now on, every minute of your time will be spent, from morning to night according to a routine and the underperformers will be eliminated. Understand?”

You nodded unconsciously, following those around you. This was serious and there was no turning back now. Even so looking at that man’s gaze as he spoke somehow made you shiver a little.

'What have I gotten myself into?'-the question suddenly popped into your head, making you doubt for a moment, if you being here was truly a good decision, but Ego's voice immediately made you get back on track.

“Great. Let’s start with a quick summary then. First, you will be divided into 20 teams, 10 people each. This division was based on your current abilities, but they can change over time while you’re here. Each week, the levels to pass are going rise and be harder, and those who can't pass will automatically fail and get eliminated."-he said leaning back into his chair.-"Next, is the routine which the assistant will tell you about in detail later. The goal here in Blue Lock besides creating football players, is to produce ideal managers who have the perfect skills and attitude to fit with them, and to maintain their level, helping them until the end of their careers.”-he suddenly raised his index finger and the screens showed what looked like an animation of whatever he was about to say.-"This includes, one: Strategic and logical thinking, two: A healthy and fit body and three: The highest levels of media and communication! If you perform well in these three main areas, then a job and the experience of a lifetime are guaranteed! Don't disappoint me! Now lock off and goodbye for now!”

With that, the egg-headed man finished his speech, disappearing from the screens and Anri, with a microphone in her hand, started to divide everyone up, while handing out papers with our new weekly routine printed on it. Seems like you have been assigned to group number 10. That's not bad, but were your abilities really worth as much to be a team 10 member? So far you have only (tried) to manage your own life and your current football knowledge was equal to zero. But there was no time left for further thoughts, because after receiving the uniform you had to immediately start on the first task according to your assigned routine for the day.

—————— Okay. This was harder than you thought. Wiping off the sweat from your forehead, you started running your seventh lap around the damn track again.

"I’m gonna pass out.”-you muttered under your breath, as your newly made friend, you’d just met a few days ago appeared next to you.

“Same, I'm too tired to be running around in the morning!”-she replied, and after a few seconds the sound of a whistle was heard, signaling the end of the first part of the warm-up. Well, today was going to be long again.

Your new routine consisted of starting your mornings at exactly 7 am with physical exercises and then, you had a quick breakfast. After that you had to start on some brain work tasks for the day, followed by communication class and lunch. A 15 minute break later, media and IT started and before finishing the day with a small workout again, were language lessons waiting for you. Yes. You also had to learn languages.

Unfortunately not just one, not two or three, but four fucking languages in which you had to reach a basic level. At least the variety was good, since now you knew how to say hello in French, German, Italian and Spanish. (multilingual queen slay) And then based on those you could decide which one you wanted to work on more and reach at least an intermediate level. If that was not enough, the knowledge of English was also mandatory, but at an advanced level. Also for every other day there were talks, activities and tasks about basic football for those with the lack of knowledge to at least have a grasp on the topic. So there you were, in full uniform everyday for the last two months, suffering through training.

It almost hurts to admit, but on some days you started to miss your simple, slightly boring school life. Thinking back to your friends and parents who you hadn't talked with in a while, to those boring classes and your warm bed. Training was hard since other than having to excel at the 3 fields, worrying that you could get eliminated at any moment, if you lacked behind was stressing you out even more than you already were. On top of that, seeing that some of the girls were kicked out of the building was saddening, yet it worked like a charm to make you work even harder to survive till the end.

Sure, it’s not like it wasn’t good here since you arrived. Luckily, you quickly adapted to the new environment, getting used to the shared bathrooms, roommates, the extreme routines and plans you had to follow and the surprisingly good canteen food. But the lack of 'fresh air'of the bustling Tokyo, the crowded places, the subways and the fact you could sleep in on the weekends certainly made a void in your heart. The mountains were a beautiful view, but you started to get bored of them after a while.

That's how you usually spent the rest of your days with. Time also flew a lot quicker with your new friends who you suffered with together until they finally announced the end of the program, ordering everyone to gather in the waiting room. Everybody arrived on time and just a few minutes later bowl cut finally appeared on the screens again. —————— “Yo, diamond grinders! Congrats on surviving till now. Looking at your data and statuses, I'm pretty much satisfied with everyone. Well, it doesn't matter now, since the results are already decided.”-Ego said in a voice that lacked emotions yet again. Still the boredom and lack of sleep were evident on his face, noticing his eye bags and the empty cups of ramen in the background that he didn't even bother to clean up. He coughed a little before continuing.-“After analyzing every single one of you on each field, I have decided on which player to assign you, based on these factors and scores. Let's start now, shall we?"-he asked and a little icon of the first girl who was about to be assigned, appeared on the TV screens, showing her name and the team she belonged to.-"First of all, congratulations to Aiko Hashimoto…”-he said a girl's name that felt unfamiliar to you, and then went on with, what you assumed was the player's jersey number and the name of who she would be managing from now on. Meanwhile on the big screens the footballer's little icon made an appearance as well next to Aiko's.

Ego soon continued with announcing the girls by their rank and time seemed to slow down the moment he started speaking again. After a while, at least 20 minutes have passed, yet your name was nowhere to be heard. Even your closest friend was now assigned to some boy, while you were still waiting for your turn. 'Did you do that well? Maybe they just forgot to kick you out.'-you assumed after another 5 minutes passed. Listening to Ego as he was still announcing names, you glanced around at the remaining girls who seemed confident while standing, not hearing their names yet. They seemed certain that they were getting one of the top players you thought, while you, yourself were still unsure who you would end up with. Before any more thoughts could occupy your mind, the sound of a familiar name hit your ears.

“Next up is L/N Y/N.”-you heard from the speakers and finally your little icon also turned up on the screens. Oh my gosh, it’s you! Wait who was before you again? What numbered player are we even at now?!

Blinking twice, you looked up to the main screen, staring at the miniature doddle of you, while Ego was about to say the lucky guy's name you were going to work with. A sudden rush of excitement and worry began to overwhelm you, anxiously waiting to hear the fruit of your 3 months of suffering. Sure, you did do well in all areas required and even gained some knowledge about football in general, but was it enough? Every girl here did their best, trying equally hard, afraid of missing the opportunity of a lifetime and getting kicked out of the facility.

You gulped ready to hear whatever and whoever was waiting for you on the other side of Blue Lock. Ego’s voice rang through the waiting room as he said the following:

“Congratulations L/N Y/N! Based on your results, you've earned your place in Blue Lock as the manager of player number…”

(Oh my gosh, this was a long one, hope you guys enjoyed it ^^; i wasn't sure about this story since it's my first one, so pls let me know if you are interested in a continuation and tell me, who you think will get u as their manager? (★‿★) tyy

[leighsartworks216]

Cliffside Chatter

dragon!Sylus x blind!oracle!Reader

Series Masterlist - Chapter One - Prev Chapter - Next Chapter

This is officially the last chapter I have already written out. And with that comes the tentative warning that updating may take longer because it is literally the final 5-6 weeks of college for me and all of my work is breathing down the back of my neck. I'm gonna do my best to stay consistent, though, cuz I just love them sm and really want to keep sharing these little moments between them 🥺

Warnings: talk of kidnapping, migraines

Word Count: 1,628

Main Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

A woman with silver hair. She… removes a sword from someone’s chest? Or does she push it in…? Jewel’s chest… What then? What comes next? It’s all a bit too chaotic. Red and black ash obscure the scene. If you can just make out the shapes then maybe…

“Does it still hurt?”

You’re snapped out of your thoughts. You completely forgot where you were, so distracted with the same prophecy you’ve been seeing every night. “Hm?”

The hard plates of his hand grab yours, pulling it from your neck. “You keep touching your throat.”

“Oh!” You clear your throat, but offer as reassuring of a smile as you can muster. “It’s just a little sore. I’m okay.”

He hums like he doesn’t quite believe you, but releases your hand. Really, it doesn’t hurt as bad as the day before - or even as bad as yesterday. He’d diligently helped replace the bandages and pressed cold cloths to soothe the bruises that formed, but all one could do was let it heal on its own.

You drop your hand to your lap. “Thank you for bringing me out here,” you rasp quietly. You turn your face up to the sky, to the great fire in the heavens that warms your cheeks, sinks under your skin into your bones. “It’s been a while since I’ve felt the sun.”

“That’s my fault,” he says. “I sleep during the day. The light…”

“Hm? What about it?”

He doesn’t speak for a moment, weighing his words. You frown at him. Finally, he mutters, “It hurts my eyes.”

You croak out a laugh. “Is that uncommon for fiends?”

“Perhaps not.”

“You can go inside if it bothers you too much.”

“And risk you falling down the cliff?” He nudges his foot against yours, hanging down over a vast emptiness.

You nudge his foot back. “I’m blind, I’m not stupid.” A comfortable silence blankets over you. You can’t recall the last time you were granted a peaceful quiet like this. In the city, it seemed that everyone wanted to hear your insight at all hours of the day. Their incessant questions, grating on your ears, asking about crop yield and relationships and success. You wonder if the man from days ago was someone you’d given a fortune. You can’t place his voice, not when all you hear is his screams alongside a phantom weight on your throat.

“You’re touching it again.”

You huff, clasping your hands together in your lap. He chuckles. You nod out into the world in front of you. "What does it look like out there?"

He hmphs. His shoulder rises and falls beside you. "The same as it always does."

"And how's that?"

"I'm... not the best person to describe the world to you."

"I'm not asking for you to be the best. And I don't need you to describe it like I'm seeing it for the first time. Just... tell me what you see."

He sighs. You think for a moment he’ll continue to refuse. "Mountains, all around. There are trees, climbing up the sides. A field way out in the distance. The city."

You hum thoughtfully. "Is the market going on today? Is it busy?"

"Yeah. Caravans coming in and out. Banners and flags flying all over. Did you ever go to the market?"

"Not in any official capacity. I was never really allowed to go anywhere." You shoot him a grin, full of mischief. "But I would sneak out, sometimes. I almost got carried away to an alpaca farm once."

He chuckles. "How did you manage that?"

"I was just stumbling through the crowd," you begin. There's a wistfulness to your voice. Longing for a simpler time, while lamenting the isolation of it. "Following the flow of traffic. And I was knocked out of the way, into one of the stalls. The woman that ran it asked if I was alright. When she figured out I was blind, she said I could sit with her in the shade of her booth for a while.

"I sat there for hours. It was... It was like reaching out and touching humanity. She didn't treat me like a delicate flower, or a tool to be used for her own gain. For once in my life, I was just another person.

"Well, turned out she raised alpacas for their wool. She'd shear them, spin it into yarn, and make things with them. All sorts of things - gloves, hats, sweaters, socks. I said I'd never been around an alpaca before. She laughed and said I was sitting right next to one. She took my hand," you hold it out, mimicking the motions, "and guided it over to an alpaca that was laying right beside me that whole time." Your hand falls back into your lap. You clear your throat.

"She said I could ride it, if I wanted. Better yet, I could ride on its back and she could take me back to her farm, introduce me to all of her animals and teach me how to spin yarn like her."

"It sounds like she was trying to kidnap you," he says.

You shake your head. "It wasn't like that. I've... I've never known kidnappers to care whether I trusted them or not. I'm blind - what can I do? It's easier to just take me away without the pretense."

He hums. "So you've been kidnapped before, aside from me?" There's a teasing edge to his voice.

There isn't in yours. "Almost. A few times. People get desperate. They hear that I can tell them their future, tell them what to do, how to be successful, and it goes to their head…

"Anyway, I was riding on the back of the alpaca, just being led in circles while the market was in a lull. One of my caretakers saw me and snatched me away. I had to spend the entire night reciting hymns as punishment."

"They were protecting you."

"They were protecting their assets," you correct him. You gesture behind you where the cave entrance should be. "Imagine someone breaks in and steals your greatest treasure. Even with all that wealth, you can't just let that one thing go. You'd do anything to get it back. And once you have it, you'd do anything to ensure it stays there."

He doesn't deny it. He can't deny it. Already he's killed hundreds of men to protect his hoard, those that come to kill him not included. Of course he'd do just the same thing. He did so recently, just a few days ago. One more body added to the pile to rot in the dark.

"Had you ever been outside the city? Before now, I mean."

You shake your head. "I had no reason to. Have you ever been to the city?”

“I have,” he answers. “I go in brief stints, gathering what I need. Most of your hoard comes from down there.”

You let out a startled laugh and wince. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“I wanted to grab more, but something told me to come back.” His voice takes on a soft, wistful sound. The wind sweeps by. It feels refreshing as it comes down the side of the mountain, cooling your skin from the heat of the sun. You lean toward him slightly. “It was like… a tug, pulling my back here.”

“A tug?”

“Hm. I didn’t understand it, but I trusted my instincts. They’ve kept me alive so far; that must count for something. I flew back up. And I heard you.”

You tilt your head. “What did you hear?”

You feel the weight of his eyes on your face. “I heard you call for me.”

You frown, brows pinching together as you think back to that horrible day. You remember very little of the specifics, truth be told. It’s all a blur of fear and panic. Pain and the certainty that death would claim you. It’s like a feather tickles the back of your brain, urging you to recall more. Jewel pulls your hand from your throat again. He holds it down in your lap.

“It was faint. Barely anything. But I knew it was your voice. That’s how I found you.”

You remember choking. Struggling for air. Darkness… And waking up to Jewel rolling you onto your side so you didn’t continue to choke on blood.

No… There was something else. “I think I was unconscious for a moment…”

He hums. “You didn’t even seem to be alive when I got to you.”

You shudder at the thought and shake your head. “I mean, I think I had another vision of the future.”

“Really? What did you see?”

You strain your mind, stretching it to its furthest to try and draw out any faint detail of the dream. If Astra wanted you to see something, you’d hate to forget and anger him any more than you already have in your time as a Chosen. But all you can make out are glimpses of Jewel’s face. And all you get in turn for it is a migraine.

You wince sharply and wobble where you sit, teetering to the side as you hold your head in your free hand. Jewel grabs onto your arm to steady you, pulling you away from the cliff. You shake your head, but it only worsens the lightheadedness behind your eyes. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t push it.” The dirt shifts under him as he shifts to get up. An arm wraps around your waist to keep you from sliding forward, and lifts you carefully to your feet. He turns you around and walks you back inside. Shadows slide over your body, blanketing over the lingering heat clinging to your skin. “I’ve had enough of the sun.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08 @lunaizhere @sine-nomine0 @beautifulthingsiadore @lalaluch @nothankyew @terriblesoup @jeleryyy @nezuswritingdesk @anaathxma @ssushi @mina7820 @monophobix @mentaltrouble2201 @mskaylacharite @nerrivm @ichosesparklingtorment @schnittled @animegamerfox @flamedancer13 @leiakitty @seris-the-amious @fries11

[starlit1daydream]

Maids & Sylphs: Maintenance & Generation

There's no need to justify the meaningless destruction~...

Yeah, I love that song.

This is a little bit of a contentious one, since there's an extant debate about the Class pairings with these two; but Maid:Sylph works best for me, so that's what I'm going for.

The Maid:Sylph class dichotomy embodies maintenance, generation and responsibility. They operate alongside their Aspect to ensure it functions correctly, a caretaker for it; being able to both generate it freely and keep it from going awry after their arc is done.

They're also defined by quite an interesting and consistent character arc in two parts - that I'll go over in the narrative section. It involves a lot of denial of their Aspect.

Canonical Maid players are Jane Crocker (Maid of Life), Aradia Megido (Maid of Time) and Porrim Maryam (Maid of Space).

Canonical Sylph players are Kanaya Maryam (Sylph of Space) and Aranea Serket (Sylph of Light).

So, let's get to Point A - the Maid's narrative function.

The Maid is defined by an overworking at the hands of their Aspect; they are, simply put, made to use it and work with it tirelessly without ever being able to have it.

Their relationship with it is exclusively defined by others, with no opportunities being given for them to forge their own stance on their Aspect; it's alien to them, all they know of it is what they're made to use it for.

Jane Crocker, the Maid of Life, indoctrinated and kept in the dark thanks to an oppressive regime that would see her stripped of agency; her life under constant threat of assassination as she denies any and all conspiracies under her nose.

Aradia Megido, the Maid of Time, puppeteered by the deceased and the forces of death themselves, tossed around throughout states of mortality whilst forced to shelve her own intrigue in archaeology. No interest in the past is granted on her own merits.

Porrim Maryam, the Maid of Space, denied an intuitive chance to make her own way with femininity because of Beforus' oppressive patriarchy; her opinions left unheard as she slaves away in the jadeblood caverns. Her own gender and curation of the Space around her, inaccessible.

This is followed by a stage of personal growth wherein the Maid sheds the shackles and works with their Aspect independently. They awaken into a new power with their Aspect as their steward and responsibility; and now they work for it because they want to.

Jane Crocker ends the story having inherited control of her own Life; she's CEO of CrockerCorp and has no oppression left to control her and regulate her agency.

Aradia Megido ends the story having become a caretaker of the afterlife, Maid of Time taking responsibility to keep the deceased in check and fondly regard extermination.

Porrim Maryam ends her story having become a garrulous and opinionated advocate whose sexual freedom and comfort in her own gender identity goes hand in hand with her views on feminism and patriarchy. (she's also trans, but you didn't hear that from me)

Point B - the practical function of the Maid.

This one's fairly simple, given we have two whole examples to work with and they both have their own moments of badassery.

Jane can create Life. Though she expresses that, uh... questionably, with her rather clear-cut wishes towards Jake in Trickster Mode; she also expresses it literally. The overload of her Life powers leads her to turn the desolate and barren LOCAH into a thriving wilderness, teeming with Life. What's more, she can give Life to those who have lost it.

Aradia can create Time. We see her freeze Jack Noir in temporal stasis, using her Aspect and generating Time for her cohorts both literally and metaphorically after the fact.

Porrim, speculatively, could create Space. Think Jade, but less overpowered.

The creation of their Aspect leads directly to their maintenance of it, one does not just make something new and then leave it to rot; you have to take care of it, allow it to grow and keep to the right path.

Point C, the narrative function of the Sylph.

Like most other passive Classes, we're flipping the active counterpart on its head for this one.

Whereas a Maid is defined by a working relationship with an Aspect they never get to know, the Sylph is an opposite. They hold such a breadth of knowledge and desire to help with their Aspect, but nobody lets them.

Kanaya is desperate to curate the Space around her and meddle with it, through her fashion expression to her interest in gardening, and keeping her friends in check, but nobody allows her to. She's shunned merely as the auspistic 'vvillage twwo wwheel devvice' and decried as a meddler 'til she starts putting her foot down and sawing incels in half.

Aranea is desperate to be seen, to be given Light; she merely wants attention and acknowledgement from her friends - because she literally just fucking wants to talk about the things that interest her for more than five minutes. She keeps repositories of knowledge, adores giving exposition, and is pushed into ignorance and oblivion 'til she resorts to throwing planets with her brain.

This is not to say that the Sylphs are... completely justified; because their growth comes in the form of acknowledging that their Aspect needn't always be meddled with. The Maid allows their Aspect to grow on its own, but the Sylph is compelled to interfere and change it because 'they know best'.

Kanaya meddles even when it's condescending, unaware of her own shortcomings in that regard; making glaring errors in her curation of Space that lead to the termination of relationships (Vriska) that she refuses to even give an explanation for.

Aranea heals Light even when she shouldn't, intruding on personal boundaries and consent through her Aspect. She freely shares information about her cohorts that really should be left in the shadows, sometimes, and breaches both Jake & Terezi's wishes by 'fixing' their disabilities, per se.

...She was totally justified in throwing planets, though.

Point D, therein, is the practical function!

This is interesting, because Homestuck equates passive creation with healing. The Sylph less actively generates their Aspect and moreso fixes it, making them a sort of Anti-Prince in a sense.

Kanaya, we have less material to work with given her lack of a God Tier status; but it sounds to me like healing Space seems inherently tied to her awakening as a rainbow drinker (repairing her own role in the narrative after her death) and the curation of Space through removing things that could harm it.

Aranea, however, is clear-cut. She heals Light by healing any disabilities that would impair someone's desire to see or understand truth; Terezi's blindness leaves her unable to see, and Jake's brain injuries leave him unable to understand; in Aranea's eyes, anyways. (I'd argue she's a very reductive and possibly passively ableist viewpoint, but I digress).

It's a form of creation, for sure; but it's directed towards others just as a Passive player does. I find them really interesting, especially just because of the limited material we've got; I would've loved to see a God-Tiered Kanaya. Alas...

Anyway, by now, I'm sure you all know what's coming for you next week. I'll be on schedule this Time, so clear out some Space in your schedule.

(Oh, Lord, that was cheap. At least it was probably aMuseing to a few of you, hell if I know).

[joachimz]

“Sorry.”

A nod, another shove. You’re not sure why you even bother utilizing manners. Under dim strobes and thumping music none of that particularly matters. A bit of your drink sloshes out of your solo cup. It makes your fingers sticky where they’re pressed to flimsy plastic. You sigh.

You’re getting too old for this shit.

Honestly, you never thought yourself to still be indulging in this kind of lifestyle, let alone at your age. Then again, you never thought yourself to be working as manager of one of the most popular volleyball teams in the professional league, either. 

Volleyball has never really been your thing; not directly. The proxy by which it seeped into your life seemed to stain it, though. Sink its claws in and tug you back bit by bit until you found yourself pinned regardless. Rubber soles and sweaty palms, clinging to your shirt tails and sprinting. From girlfriend to planner to manager; proxy doomed you.

You could never seem to escape this–the sport, the circle, the game. Despite your best efforts, here you remain. Manager of a team who chooses to celebrate their victories as if they’re still young, spritely teenagers–knowing full well they’ll wake up far more sore from the rager than the match. Here you are.

Indeed, here you are as more vodka crashes out of your cup when a pair of broad shoulders–a muscled back–bumps into you. 

The smell hits you all at once; vodka cran and versace. It stings your nose and steals your breath. Your gaze snaps up despite your inclination to tuck tail and run.

Iwaizumi Hajime is a consistent man.

You’d even go so far to venture in saying he’s consistent to a fault. He’s ordered the same thing from the local Mom ‘n Pop since he was twelve. Bought the same pair of shoes from grade ten. Sported the same haircut since twenty three. Worn the same cologne since he was nineteen.

Had the same, stupidly charming smile all his life. 

“Hizu.” The college nickname slips from your lips like an exhale of cigarette smoke–smooth, with a bitter aftertaste.

You’re much too quiet, given the setting. But you don’t care, and you can tell by the flickering of Hajime’s eyes down you once, twice, that he doesn’t, either.

“(Y/n),” he returns, implores. What mood are you in tonight? Who did you come with? “Nice party.”

“Yeah,” you don't argue, even though you think it’s childish. And you don’t counter to ask how he knew you planned it even though you’re no longer a glorified manager and an official manager now. The alcohol tries to settle on your stomach. “Who–”

“Ushijima,” Hajime answers before you can even finish, can question who cc’d the invite knowing damn well it wasn’t you.

“Ah.” You nod. He takes a sip from his drink. “You look.. Nice.” 

An admission you probably shouldn’t grant–should know better than to. But it is an admission you do not regret as you take note of Iwaizumi’s gaze drifting once again, past your lips, your neck, your chest. Toes and back, he takes another sip; like he’s drinking up you and the vodka cran all at once. Intense eyes and furrowed brows.

Someone shoves past Iwaizumi, and suddenly vodka cran is no longer sitting pretty in a little red cup.

“Fuck,” he hisses, hand immediately going to your chest then retracting; catching himself. Your already sticky palm reaches up to touch the sopping stickiness that is now the front of your shirt.

Yeah, you’re getting too old for this shit. 

With a roll of your eyes you throw up your free hand. Of course, this would happen, right now, in front of the man who you are so off with–you swear–and make you look like a bumbling idiot. (Not that any of it was your fault, but you know. Tipsy minds and all that).

The beat drops and Hajime is saying something, but you can’t hear. The thumping’s too loud. You’re getting a headache. The Long Island Iced Tea in your cup is not settling well in your stomach. You’re a little over it, to be honest.

“What?” It’s clipped, agitated. But you don’t necessarily intend for it to be.

It doesn’t matter, though, because Iwaizumi doesn’t hold it against you. He would never–has never. Grudges don’t exist between the two of you, wounds don’t go unlicked.

A chest bumps against yours once again–intentionally, this time–and warm breath traces the shell of your ear. You shudder, and pray it goes unnoticed.

“I have an extra shirt in my car.”

An offer, a ploy. You know it’s genuine but you know how fast it can shift. How easy it is for lines to be blurred and crossed and erased and–

“Okay.”

You don’t care.

Hajime takes your hand like it’s natural, like he’s used to it. (He is). He leads you through the crowd and with each step the thumping in your head and the room gets softer and softer. Finally, cold air is nipping at your cheeks as he flings the front door of the venue open.

A metallic slam cuts it off–the music, the people, the hustle and bustle and suddenly you’re alone. Being led through a dim parking lot to a black convertible parked to the far right. Hajime’s just gotten his monthly haircut, you see. Perfectly trimmed nape peeking out of the back of his collar. You want to reach out and touch it. You’re not sure why you don’t.

Or why you’re suddenly nervous.

Iwaizumi just has this air about him. One that commands respects but exudes chivalry. Like a pitbull faithful to its owner. Soft licks, hard bites.

And oh, the bites.

Your door is opened for you, because of course it is, and you’re sliding into the passenger seat like it’s second nature, “Thanks.”

“‘Course,” he nods.

You pull your feet in and let him shut the door. He opens the rear one behind you and shuffles around for a moment–digging through a duffle bag, no doubt–before that one shuts too. You pick at your wet shirt as you allot him the few seconds to cross around and join you.

When he does, he’s extending a sweatshirt out to you. A peace offering, a dead mouse.

You take it, despite the implication.

You take it and sit it in your lap and, without a pause, strip the sticky mess of a shirt off of you. And now, now is when you find yourself taking a beat, a breath. A second to look across the console of the car to the man who ruined your expensive shirt with his stupidly consistent vodka cran in his totally predictable black v-neck and his earrings are shimmering so prettily in the lamp light and his lids are heavy and his pupils are fighting his irises for residency and, oh.

You’re getting way too fucking old for this shit, but you make the first move anyway.

Searing lips to searing lips and hands grappling at whatever they can find. Flesh and hair and tongues and teeth. The chill of night air seeps out as warm breath and rising body temps spill through the leather interior.

Iwaizumi kisses like a man starved, and you expected that. Craved that. Loved that.

Love that.

Yeah, you’re getting way too old for these on again off again bullshit games and excuses and sneaky touches and kisses when you are so off, but..

But, you are not getting too old for Iwaizumi Hajime, and you don’t think you ever will.

likes & reblogs appreciated !

[highhhfiveee]

safety net, part three

part two: 🚿 | part four: 🏆

pairing: pornstar!mike schmidt x blackfem!reader summary: y/n gets a taste of mike's world and things begin to shift. wc: 3.1k tags: lots of mentions of porn, smut (descriptions of sex being filmed, featuring unprotected sex, dirty talk, clit rubbing, squirting, some workplace intimacy lmao), angst?, exposition! proofread many times but if there are still errors, idk what to say lmao

“wow."

"i know right," you say plainly, eyes wide at your best friend, claire, as you take a large gulp of your hot latte. claire cuts her gaze to you, puffing her cheeks out in a sigh. you were always so in awe by her, the feeling proved once again when she'd actually agreed wholeheartedly to view your boyfriend's porn.

"i still don't believe that you're dating him," she sputters with outrage as she points to your computer on the dining room table, open to a still of mike with dick in hand, coming on some dark-haired girl's keen face. "and i don't believe it even more so because you decided to wait six months before telling me. i thought we were best friends!"

you can tell her outrage is whimsical by the way she faints into your arms, and you reach forward to catch her. 

"yeah but, like, best friends from adolescence that don't see each other very often. last time i saw you was three months ago." 

"okay, but by then you'd been dating him for three months, and that's almost half a year!" 

"barely, claire." 

you couldn't even believe that you were dating him. you hadn't known how you two went from meeting outside an underwhelming, overpriced restaurant to making out and cuddling intimately in mike's bed four out of seven days a week. it'd felt like no time had passed at all; you'd just been living without thinking. mike took every worry off your shoulders, freeing you of anxiety in so many ways that you couldn't believe someone that caring and accommodating was real.

he paid for your sessions after you'd mindlessly rambled about not being able to afford this therapist you really liked. he sent you the credentials to his grocery delivery membership, encouraging you to get anything you wanted or needed. you could finally consistently get things that were good, and healthy. he paid your rent, and respected the fact that you didn't want to move in with him and wanted autonomy to work and pay for your other personal expenses.

"i just want you to be happy. you tell me what you want, and we'll make it happen."

he had you and it didn't feel real. you felt like you couldn't tell anyone about it, terrified that everything would crumble if you spoke even a word about him being your partner, so sweet and good and rewarding. you didn't want to hide him, but you didn't want things to collapse. not this time. 

you wouldn't be able to take it this time. 

you explain all this to claire, ending with, "i'm sorry it took so long. i just really want this to last." you'd told her about everything, even about dating simon briefly and how he led you to mike. 

claire nods, chewing on a wedge of pineapple speared by a fork. she's given up her fainting performance, once again munching on her breakfast and clicking the pad on your laptop. the video you two were watching resumes, and you watch her face for bit, eyes shifting around the screen in intrigue, before turning back to it as well.

"you deserve it, y/n. that simon guy sounded like a dickhead. an expired card, and the bathroom excuse? fucking lame." her voice doesn't chop through the amplified sound of both mike and the girl moaning, whiny and feral. they're absolutely gone, and you're really not thinking about simon anymore. fuck him. 

now, you thought of mike.

granted, you hadn't been like the people in mike's videos, up to a certain point. you'd done the kissing and the heavy petting, but you hadn't had sex at all, in any form, and he didn't pressure you into feeling like it was some sort of requirement. he agreed with taking it slow, placing emphasis on the romantic before the sexual. you knew there would be no issues with the sexual; why rush into it when you could have the slow burn, all the tension you wanted up until you were ready?

mike hadn't fought it, and yeah, you thought, you did deserve it. you deserved to be treated like this. 

"called me over for an art date, i guess you still painted," the girl mewls with a devilish smile, licking at mike's---sorry, chase cox's---come around her mouth. 

"mhm, baby. masterpiece, if i do say so myself." mike is so pretty on the screen; sweaty and flustered, but so confident at the same time, polite too. even when he's in an act, he's so attentive; he moves hair away from eyes and wipes spit off chins and cradles waists while he adjusts his hips to hit various angles, turning almost everyone he filmed with into a "braindead fucktoy"---claire's filthy words, not yours (though you didn't mind the idea). 

the video ends with a snippet of aftercare, the both of them wiping at each other's bodies with gentle motions. it's how they all end, and you think it's really nice, showing a crucial part of sex that most people forgo. you'd seen plenty of mike's videos by now, and knew that while some were vastly more kinky than others, they all followed the same formula of care, concern, and curtesy. 

you could tell mike lived by that, too. 

"well, i gotta scoot to work," claire murmurs, leaning down to grab for her bag. "but thank you for inviting me to breakfast so you could show and tell me that you've been dating a wildly handsome, generous, and charismatic sex worker. best videos i've seen by far, honestly. are you seeing him today?" 

you nod sheepishly, and claire laughs into the sky, doctored with comical bitterness. "well, let the record show that i am both extremely jealous and extraordinarily happy for you." she gives you a toothy smile, poking at your shoulder with both index fingers. "seriously. you deserve it all." 

you carry this thought with you as you ride in one of the company's chartered cars, traversing through the roads to their main studio, the biggest one in the city. there were only 4 throughout the metro area, but this one, a gigantic penthouse isolated at the top of a 275-foot tall apartment complex, had the most space and atmosphere of them all. you remember coming here to take your picture for the all-access card mike had given you. he was so happy to gift it to you a few months ago, finally getting through after bugging the execs to give him another card with unhindered access for months. 

"finally got the hard copy, just for you. got your name on it and everything," he'd smiled so wide, clipping it on one of his merch lanyards; white with black, serif text that read, "chase cox world domination". you'd fallen over in laughter, kissing at his cheeks while thanking him between giggles. 

you hadn't been here many times over the last three months, but when you were, you were able to slip through every door and security checkpoint without hassle. people knew who you were and attended to you, telling you exactly where mike was in the studio or offering to get you any refreshments or sundries you were after. you'd always declined, extending extreme gratitude to everyone servicing you, but today, you ask for a bottle of fancy artesian water. you deserve it. 

the few times you'd been here before were usually half-hours after mike had finished a scene, helping him pack up to head home for the day, but this time, you'd come early, wanting to catch a glimpse of him at work. 

you take the elevator to the top, stepping out into the concrete foyer of the industrial workspace. the gray of the material was accented with bright art and other pops of color in furniture and decor that conveyed the new age principles and ideology of the production company. it made sense why the videos were so honored, with the people behind them being young and progressive and on the right side of history (and design). 

there are eight rooms on the floor; three for shooting, three for aesthetics and dressing, one for an office, and one for storage. there were bathrooms in three of them and two down the main hallway that opened into the formal living room/break area and kitchen. you'd been told that mike was in the hunger room; this one set up for messier, more bodily fluid oriented videos, as opposed to the softer passion and kinkier desire shooting rooms. 

the rooms are all hidden behind frosted, sliding glass doors with the titles printed onto placards affixed next to them. you find hunger after walking a little, and gently pull on the handle. the door slides open soundlessly, and you're closing it behind you as you step inside, your eyes locked on the scene in front of you. 

mike and his partner are arranged on a leather couch in a living room set, his hips shoving into her in this perceptive way. he's reading her body language and reacting accordingly, and you can see why she's moaning so genuinely, feet dangling by the ankle over mike's shoulders. the couch is already drenched in liquid, wet and puddled under the girl's ass.

he grabs for the back of the couch to go deeper, leaning down to press kisses on her lips as the cameraman focuses in on where they're connected. the sound is so lewd, and it makes you press your thighs together as you watch alongside the small production crew. 

"feel good? happy to have a friend like me? someone who knows you, knows your body? someone who makes you feel better and come harder than your stupid fucking boyfriend?" his partner mewls out a broken, exasperated, "y-yyesssss" between gritted teeth as her moans get higher and higher pitched. suddenly, she's reaching at mike's back to scratch at his skin, screaming out as mike leans off to the side of her, massaging his fingertips over her clit and cooing, "yeah, just let go. know he's never made you feel like this, wasting this perfect pussy..."

his partner squirts against the camera with a screech, loud and raw but pretty. the lens is covered in a heavy spray of bodily fluid as she arches her back and grinds her mound into mike's hand, chest rising and falling at a rapid rate. "that's fucking it," he encourages, speaking in her ear as he looks down at the mess in his peripherals and rides her through it. "just the way you deserve." you swear he locks eyes with you when he says it, and he only confirms it with the small smirk he throws your way, managing to fit it into the ending of the shot. his eyes twinkle through the aftercare segment, and he talks with his spent coworker, calling, "she just wants to sit for a second" to a PA with a chuckle. 

"okay, ten minute break and then we're shooting the come shot."

her legs slowly straighten out as mike throws the towel he's handed around his waist and slides his feet into the slippers stored behind the couch. he grabs a water from an outstretched hand as he makes his way over to you, smelling like sweat and sex and glistening with this nearly angelic post-fuck glow. it's like he's coming down from the gates of porn heaven.

"hi, my love," he muses, pulling you into a tight hug before saying, "how much did you see?" 

"like right before the squirting. it's very..." you're not sure what to say, really. maybe, just maybe, you need to change your underwear, but you don't want to be weird about it. you're sure he's heard weird, and beyond weird, but you want to maintain composure in front of his coworkers. you give him a tight smile, resting your hand on his pulsing bicep. "just makes me think things." 

"maybe we should add 'thought-provoking' to the list of labels for the company," he jokes, taking a sip of water while winking at you. "you're a genius, baby." 

you're giggling along with him, opening your mouth to continue the joke when two tanned arms reach from behind him to cross in an X over his chest. a head peeks from behind him, and she's immediately unmistakable to you. 

it's his current scene partner, who is also the girl from the video you watched earlier today. the one eager for his come, whining for him to make a mess of her face while letting him beat his dick on her tongue. you think back to all of the videos you've seen her in where she's with mike. she always comes the hardest working with him, and vice versa. something about it makes you sick. 

she's smiling at his cheek, eyes focused on his as he turns his glance towards her. her arms get tighter around him and you notice how she gets closer, pressing her front tighter against his back. "caught your breath?" 

"you know i always do," she brags, licking at her canines as her stare moves to you, looking you up and down with snarky scrutiny. "casting department's starting to slack." 

you shrink, feeling so small that you don't feel like you're interrupting something anymore. you might as well just not be there, and you're about to sink into pitiful posture when mike snarls, "hey, watch yourself. y/n, this is amelie, and li, this is y/n, my girlfriend. i told you about her." the sound of mike saying the nickname turns to bile in your throat, searing you on the way down and keeping you from speaking.

amelie gives you a blank expression now, standing beside mike with no qualms at being fully naked in front of a stranger. "y/n, y/n...not ringing any bells," she places her hands on her hips, tossing her dark, sex-tousled hair over her collarbones. "sorry."

you don't know why you're daunted by her; you're usually daunted by no one, and able to speak up for yourself when people are acting catty. this time, you can't help but be unnerved by her perfection, or how close she is to it. perfect skin, perfect hair, perfect body, perfect boobs...

"i'm kidding," amelie's smooth, beguiling voice rips you from your thoughts, and you're gasping for something to say when she continues, "he's shown me endless pictures, and knows that i think you're gorgeous." her tone picks up the tiniest bit as she quips, "my eyes are up here, by the way." she's throwing you off, frustrating you in so many ways and you're just stammering with mike looking between the two of you.

"i'm sorry---"

"it's really fine. millions of people have seen them, everyone's always thirsty for more of me and chase cox..." she drags the end of her sentence out as she runs the tips of her long, cherry red nails along the back of mike's neck, ending in a laugh.

"'mike schmidt' isn't a porn name, we already had this conversation." 

"neither is chase cox, if we're being real," they launch into a chitchat, and you once again feel like you're intruding. there's no denying that they have insane chemistry, but it still rips at you;  you're aware of them having an entire moment in front of you, complete with the body language and glances and suddenly, you don't care about their connection. mike was your boyfriend, and it didn't matter what she said or did. they'd made so many videos together, yet, every night he came home to you, and not her. 

"yeah, well you're still moaning chase when you come," 

"because i can't dox you like that--"

you clear your throat noisily, gaining their attention with an eyeroll, and amelie observes you and your curled lip with recognition of your game. she didn't expect you to have bite, not with the way you look now. you're not the assertive, 'take-no-shit' girl from the pictures mike showed her. she thinks you're merely a hint of that, and that it completely evaporates when someone lights a fire under your ass, but maybe she's wrong for once. "watched a bunch of your stuff. it was really good, you're talented." 

"thanks," her gratitude is dry and bitchy, and you're about to say more when a PA calls a two minute warning and she squints her eyes into slits at you. "hope you're ready to see a lot more of me." she uses mike's shoulder to pivot with a sly smirk, sauntering back to the now wiped down leather couch, ripples coursing through her ass with every step. 

you look to mike with astonishment, wondering where he's been during this whole thing, and who that girl is, and if she's genuine bad news or simply one of those callous girls that guys love to chase.

mike had defended you, sure, but he'd gotten captured too. what if she's indoctrinating him some--

"she's nice," you blurt, stopping yourself from the overthinking you'd resorted to. you needed to be nice to yourself. you deserved this, deserved everything you had with mike. nothing was taking that away from you, and you could feel secure in that. mike would reassure you.

he does, saying, "isn't she?" with a snicker. "don't worry about her, okay? it's her personality, and she does everyone like that, so she's not just targeting you. ignore her, and if you don't like the small jokes either, i can tell her to knock it off. whatever you want. also, lunch after i wrap?" 

you nod your head, about to say something again when the PA announces that it's time for shooting to start back up. mike gives you a fat kiss on the lips as he drops his towel into a director's chair next to you, and makes his way back over to amelie folded on the couch. her knees are by her chin at a filthy angle, and she's using a squeeze bottle with a tapered tip to squeeze shiny lube all over her clit and both holes. 

mike watches, rubbing his hand all through it to spread it around. amelie bites at her lip as he does, staring up at him with eyes that are filled with unadulterated lust, and he uses the leftover lube on his dick, stroking the slippery surface as he gets harder and harder in his hand. 

the director asks them if they're ready, and when they both answer yes, she says, "okay, we're gonna go insertion, sink in, wait five for the kiss, and go from there. alright...rolling...action." 

amelie flicks her eyes to you in a leer, winking at you like mike did earlier as he plunges into her sopping wet walls. her head falls back against the couch while she outstares you, open-mouthed moans transitioning into "cockdrunk" laughs that you know are calculated.  

you begin to chug your bottle of water, deliberately ogling her in return. you were down with playing a game for two, but not for long. 

lord. the hell i've gone through to get this up /: lmao i need to go to bed. things are about to heat up, so prepare yourselves for what's next to come!

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz-@0-tatiana-0-@dusstory-@delwrites-@mikeschmidtgf

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

You Don't Need A Menu

Yang: What time is it going to be?

Ruby: Oh yeah. If we’re going to be here all night we might want to order food.

Jaune: Chinese okay?

Yang: Yeah Chinese works.

Ruby: Sounds good.

Jaune: Lets do ming moon’s. They close in five minutes so just tell me what you want to order and I’ll call it in.

Weiss: I’ll have the general so’s combo.

Ruby: Uh sorry do they have a menu?

Jaune: I mean yeah presumably. But its a chinese food restaurant so they have chinese food.

Ruby: Okay let me just look at the menu and I’ll decide what I want.

Jaune: Okay well they aren’t on yelp so there is no menu but they have chinese food. You wouldn’t need a menu for ordering pizza.

Ruby: Wait were getting pizza? Now I definitely need to see a menu.

Jaune: *Slams his table* No! We’re not getting pizza. We have exactly four minutes until this place closes. We’re not getting pizza and even if we were none of you should need a menu. Right? You know what kind of toppings you like, every place has the same toppings, and you should know generally what you like by now. Look, you’ve had chinese food before.

Ruby: Uh um I don’t know I’m not sure!

Jaune: You’re not sure???

Yang: Come to think of it I really want to see a menu too. Because what if I want to change things up?

Jaune: Yang, you can live in some magical universe where you try something new and make new and exciting decisions but we all know you’re getting the steamed beef and broccoli fried rice and an egg roll like you do every time and Blake is getting the chicken lo mein.

Blake: Leave me out of this!

Weiss: What if they don’t have general so’s?

Jaune: They have general so’s or something like it.

Ruby: But what if they don’t?

Weiss: What if they don’t, though?

Jaune: I promise you that they will have general so’s or something like it.

Ruby: I just don’t know what I want unless I pick it off a menu.

Jaune: Okay. Alright. Fine. Using the power of your imagination construct a menu in your mind’s eye consisting of all the things you’ve ordered from chinese places in your entire life. Then using that mental menu, tell me what the fuck you want to order!

Yang: What if they don’t have dumplings?

Ruby: What if they don’t have dumplings, what then?

Jaune: As the gods as my witness they will have dumplings.

Weiss: But are they on the menu because it would be really rude to ask if it’s not on the menu.

Jaune: Menus are for cowards and simpletons Weiss. Persons of character look in their heart and know what they want to order.

Ruby: So you always know what you want to order?

Jaune: I haven’t looked at menu for ten years.

Ruby: Bullshit!

Jaune: Try me.

Yang: Tai food?

Jaune: Chicken pad krapraw.

Weiss: Indian?

Jaune: Chicken marsala with garlic knots.

Ruby: Italian?

Jaune: Chicken parm.

Yang: They’re out of chicken parm.

Jaune: Feduccini alfredo.

Yang: Go to hell!

Jaune: You first.

Weiss: Genie grants you three wishes?

Jaune: Worlds greatest sorcerer, new magic lamp, freedom for the first genie.

Ruby: You’re at a diner where you can mix and match. Menu is ten pages.

Jaune: Cheeseburger deluxe medium well bacon and grilled onions and wafflefries. If they don’t have that, curly fries. If they don’t have that, regular fries. And a chocolate godsdamned milkshake.

Weiss: You’re going to give yourself a heart attack!

Jaune: You’re going to give me a heart attack. Two minutes!

Ruby: So what? You order the same meal every time?

Jaune: I order the best meal every time.

Yang: You can’t have a cheese burger for breakfast!

Jaune: Can too!

Weiss: What if you’re not in the mood for a cheese burger?!

Jaune: Then I’d be in the mood for a cheddar omelette with two slices of plain white toast and a cup of coffee with some hashbrowns on the side. And you know what?! I wouldn’t need a menu to know it!

Weiss: So you only have two moods? Is that it?

Jaune: Two moods is more than enough for anyone!

Ruby: You’re insane!

Jaune: One minute!

Weiss: General so’s combo.

Ruby: Wanton soup.

Yang: Beef and broccoli with steamed rice and an egg roll.

Blake: Chicken lo mein.

Jaune: I knew it you slime!

Jaune: *into his scroll* I’ll have a number one, a number three, a number five, a number seven, and a wanton soup and an eggroll for pick up. Have a great night. *hangs up*

Jaune: You mother fuckers!

Yang: You know technically an egg roll is a sandwich.

Jaune: Oh go to hell.

[partyluvr]

MULIEBRITY, mark lee

in which mark lee falls in love with his bisexual bestfriend.

downbad!mark x fem!reader

status: on going

chapter ii. your apartment

prev | next

☆*:.｡.｡.:*☆

your apartment feels like mark’s second home. 

he lost counts on how many times he’s stayed over. he’s sure your bed already remembers the dip of his body weight when he lays on it. he likes sharing a bed with you. though neither of you ever properly cuddle or hug in your sleep, mark finds it sweet that as the night goes by your leg would end up on top of his, or he would curled up in his sleep and his head would be touching your shoulder. both of you would fall asleep on each respected sides of the bed but you would wake up—not entangled, but—accustomed to one another.

mark likes to think he finds your apartment far more... homey than his own. he thinks you’re really good at making your place comfortable yet so pleasing to look at. he can see your personal style through your apartment, it’s like a glimpse into your head. mark loves your apartment, and he's glad you don’t mind having him around.

today is one of those days where mark is laying on tour couch while you’re out and about. he recalls you saying you would be done with class at around 3pm, and instead of asking mark to come over then, you insisted that mark comes over as soon as he was done with his class—even if that means maek would kill time in your apartment all alone.

oddly enough, mark never gets bored waiting for you to come home. granted his undying crush on you took some part in it, but mark likes to think it's because he takes so much comfort in being in your apartment. 

the sound of the door being opened made him look up from his phone. he cranked his neck to look at you taking off you shoes in the doorway. sitting up, mark tipped up his chin at you before switching his attention back to his phone, trying to not be so obvious that he always gets so excited whenever you’re home. isn’t this so domestic, in a way? him waiting for you to come home. granted it’s your place, and granted friends and roommates do this all the time, mark’s heart couldn’t help but swell at the thought at someday he would have the chance to wait for you to come home to a place you both share. but maybe that’s just his lovestruck head getting ahead of him.

"what time did your class end?" you asked as you took off your leather jacket, leaving a black tank top that hangs just above your belly button.

"around one."

you nodded, walking back to you bedroom before walking out, this time you were wearing sweatpants instead of your jeans.

"did you take a nap on my bed?"

mark raised his head up. "yeah, is it obvious?"

you nodded, chuckling. "cause i swear i made my bed this morning."

a laugh was heard as a response. scrolling down his phone, he sheepishly replied, "sorry.”

mark never thought he could be as close as he is now with you, to the point that sleeping on each other's bed is nothing out of the ordinary. is he once again ahead of himself to think this apartment of yours is becoming his as well?

sleepovers are also something constant in your friendship. sleepovers at your apartment consist of watching too many movies in one sitting, drinking, and talking. sleepovers at mark’s apartment aren't so different, but add video games to the equation. you’re not the best at playing video games, but you losing adds to the fun. mark likes making fun of you for making silly rookie mistakes.

to the public eye, some people would think the two of you are dating. you spend time together almost regularly despite not even sharing the same major. whenever people would assume to mark that you and him are dating, he always feels heavy at heart when correcting them. he would like if he could just let them assume whatever they want, but that would be selfish on his side. making you uncomfortable is the last thing he wants.

"so," mark began as you finally sat down beside him.  "how was your weekend?" 

you loosely smirked, shrugging.  

"did you guys hookup?"

your smirk was still permanent. "surprisingly we did.”

mark felt a small part of him died. it was his fault for asking, and it was also his fault for never getting used to the fact that you really enjoys casual hookups. again, his discomfort with your sex lives choices is not motivated by judgement, but rather jealously. he would do anything to break out of the platonic bubble in which he is currently residing in.

"damn, dude. i thought you said she looked innocent."

you chuckled. "apparently i was wrong."

"did you make the first move?"

why did mark feel the need to keep asking questions?

"nope. i meant it when i said i wasn't going to initiate anything. she didn't look like someone who would be into casual sex, unlike me," she pointed a finger to her face. "who’s ran through."

mark playfully rolled his eyes at her remarks.

"how'd it happen then?"

"i drove her here from the bowling alley. i swear i wasn’t even thinking about sex. we talked til like, midnight. she's such a great person. then she asked if she could stay the night which i obviously said yes to. we were laying down on the bed and next thing i knew she was climbing on top of me."

"so she started it."

you nodded, grabbing a remote from the table. "yes sir."

clicking his tongue, he responded. "you got game."

"no," she snickered. "i got lucky."

mark lightly shoved her shoulder in response. earning another chuckle from you. you then put the remote down back on the table as the tv start playing, the opening title screen for superstore appeared on the screen. you and this damn sitcom.

"how about you, did you hookup with anyone on the weekend?" you turned to ask him.

"no, i came over to jaehyun’s, remember?"

"well... did you hookup with anyone at jaehyun’s on the weekend?"

mark threw a pillow at her making you laugh as you dodge it. 

"nah, man. we played fifa and drank some craft beer."

you scrunched her face. "craft beer?"

"that's the only thing jaehyun had in his fridge."

"that’s so gross." she scrunched her face. "but seriously, you need to get laid, lee.”

mark rolled his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time. he focused his eyes on the tv screen, episode seven, ten minutes in.

"i'm saving it til marriage.”

the response made you broke into laughter. "fuck off.”

she threw the pillow back at him, which he managed to caught just before it hit his face. he then stick a tongue out at her, before returning his gaze back to the tv.

"wait, are you serious? cause if you are then i'm sorry for laughing." 

this time, it was mark’s turn to laugh. "i'm kidding, dumbass! oh my god, do i look like a virgin to you?"

"...yes?"

“dude!” the pillow was thrown back at her. "fuck you."

"well maybe if you have sex once in a while you wouldn't look like a prude."

"i do have sex, just not as much as you."

"touché."

"i didn't mean it like that." 

you softly laughed. "i know." you stretched you arm to ruffle his hair. "but seriously, you need to blow off some steam. you're a pure math major, lee, don't pent those stress up inside you."

to that, he rolled his eyes playfully yet again. a small smile hanging on his lips, he replied, "yeah, yeah, whatever. i’ll try my best to have sex.”

mark doesn't need a one night stand with a stranger to relieve his stress; jerking off in his room is enough for that. mark just needs zo to look at him the way he looks at her. one one these days he would get tired of feeling so perverted for jerking off to you. would you be submissive? would you have your way with him? would you like him to go down on you? these thoughts are not normal for friends to have and though mark has managed to only think of those thoughts only when he has his hand around his cock, he still feels like a bad friend for having such vulgar fantasy about you. he loves you, he truly does, and although he wish for more than just a friendship, mark swears he loves you so much that he can die being your friend. it’s an honor as it is, to exist in the same lifetime as you.

he’d would push his craving for you aside if that means he can have you in his life even just in a mere friendship.

☆*:.｡.｡.:*☆

[wayfayrr]

If requests for Tears are still open I'd like to request him comforting reader.

Not the reader is crying and needs comfort type of thing. More like reader is kinda just shutting down a bit and stops working properly that day kind of thing, if you get what I mean. And as he is so caring maybe he'd make a flowercrown for reader? Or prepare their favourite meal? Just being supportive you know? Or whatever you imagine him to do!

Please and thank you. If you don't want to do it just delete it.

of course anon, I hope you're doing alright and if you ever want to talk to someone my dm's are open. <3

But this got a bit longer than I originally planned reaching just about 1K words but I tried to show how caring he can be

With how long we’ve been walking now, it shouldn’t be long till we settle down and make a camp for the evening although it’s not like I’ve got the best sense of time right now. We could have been moving for only half an hour and I wouldn’t be surprised without a clock. I've always been a bit time blind. 

“[na]- wh… -op” 

Is someone shaking my shoulder? We’re still moving aren’t we, did they spot something to show m-

“Where are you trying to go- [name] you just kept walking even when all of the others stopped and started settling down, it’s like you weren’t all there.”

“We stopped already?”

He looks so concerned, his eyes are already watering and although with anyone else it’d seem manipulative but with him? He doesn’t even know that he’s crying most of the time. 

“Yeah, Wild’s even got a fire going but you just kept moving, what’s going on, you haven’t been hit by something have you? Nothing that’s made you feel weird?”

I didn’t do as good a job of hiding it as I thought; if tears has been able to see that something’s wrong then… 

“Please, I don’t know what’s hurt you so much but I and the others are all here for you. You don’t have to bury everything and deal with whatever it is alone.”

“I-”

“Come back to camp with me though? We don’t have to talk but I, well I don’t really want to leave you on your own right now.”

Looking down, I’m greeted with a held out hand, he’s leaving it up to me to take it or not. Granted it’s not like there’s a situation I wouldn’t. It’s incredible how quickly he laces our fingers together when I took it though, the grin on his face as he does it making me feel a little fuzzy too. 

“I’ve got plenty of ingredients, if there’s anything you want I’ll make you it, or we can sit by the fire, or we could go sit somewhere separate to talk for a bit? Whatever you want, just say the word.”

“Could, can we just go be alone for a bit… I -sigh-  I don’t think I wanna be around the others right now.”

Not even a word had to be said as he nodded; gently running his thumb over the back of my palm. Leading us away with just a tilt of his head to the rest cluing them into what he’s doing. Next thing I know he's tugging me to sit next to a new campfire? When did that - am I really zoning out this badly consistently? He isn't treating me like there's something wrong with me though, he's just… here. Giving me the options for what I want to do, what I'm comfortable to share; it's nice. 

Sitting down next to him feels natural, leaning onto him even more so as he rests his arm around me reaching for my hand to trace lazy circles on it. 

“What can I make for you then [name], I heard you talking about pizza not really being a thing here but… well I’ve had it a couple of times so if you want I can make you some, or I’ve got some stored away so you could have that while we talk?”

“There a reason why you keep so much in your pad?”

“I well I… It's well… I keep it for times like this, if anyone needs a pick-me up quickly and since you've talked about pizza so much I thought that it'd be the best one to keep for you! I still don't know your favourite food so I just thought, until I learn your favourites, this would work.”

The nervousness in his voice is kind of endearing, the fact that he’s put so much thought into comforting someone he’s known for barely a week even more. He is a link though, so the fact that he’s a good person shouldn’t be all that surprising to me, not when I’ve both seen how the others act and played through his game myself. It’s different being able to live through it though, that’s for certain. It’s so comfortable here though; I can almost feel my eyelids drooping.

“I’ll get you something, I don’t think you’ve eaten today with how little you were here so you really should have something before you fall asleep sundelion.”

“Mhm, guess you have a point.”

“I've been worried about you you know? I know I probably don't have much right to be seeing as we haven't known each other all that long but I want you to know I really do care about you and that between me and the others you don't have to deal with whatever is bothering you alone.”

“It’s just thoughts, ‘m not exactly sure how to explain them.”

“Well, I won’t push, if you don’t want to share then you don’t have to. I’m not going to force you to do anything either way, just remember that I’m here if you ever figure out how to explain it.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, whenever you want.”

“Think I’m just gonna lie here for a bit before I decide.”

That seemed to reward me with a gentle nudge and a tiny - near unnoticeable - frown, not that I really know what caused… Oh, right, he said he thought it best that I eat something didn’t he? I shouldn’t be all that surprised he’s handing me a plate of food. 

“You don’t have to have it after all, I’m not even entirely sure it’s something you like. If it isn’t though I can make you something else!”

“No, no this is lovely. I can’t remember how long it’s been since I’ve had something like this, I wouldn’t want to be a burden to you.”

“You aren’t, I can promise you that.”

“But you’re doing all of this when I bet you’re tired too.”

“And you’re forgetting that I was the one who decided to do this, and even if you ever were a ‘burden’ you would be one I would forever choose to carry.”

[quibbs126]

So after the last batch of Cyberverse sketches, I tried to do more here with Cyberverse Megatron specifically, since he kind of stuck himself in my brain, at least yesterday

Admittedly I wish I drew more, but by that last corner I just wasn’t sure what to draw. I actually did draw something, yet again trying to draw that one kissing meme thing with him and Optimus, but yet again it didn’t turn out right looking, so you don’t see it

But other than that, while I’m aware my drawings aren’t the best, I do think I’m at least getting the hang of drawing this version of Megatron. I’m aware his face is still off looking, but oh well

My only real thoughts for what to draw with him were “more of body”, “him thinking “oh no that’s hot” at something Optimus is doing”, “season 3 Megs” and “he drink coffee”. And also to attempt lineless

Note on that last thing, at least on the head, it’s not as difficult as I’d thought it’d be. I could probably do it, if I at least knew what I wanted to draw

I don’t really have much to say on the drawings themselves though? There isn’t much going on that I haven’t already said. All I can say is I tried to use screenshots for references more than usual, since I thought it’d help. I did stop at some point, but still

I don’t know how I feel about Cyberverse Megatron. I think he’s really only in my head because I was searching for Cyberverse megop fanfics after finishing the show

But also, he’s sort of your typical Megatron. An asshole, and usually the cause of alliances falling short and me saying “Megatron, you bitch”. Granted he’s not as evil as other Megatrons, at least most of the time, considering he was willing to destroy the AllSpark that one time, but it’s probably also because the Autobots and Decepticons have to team up so often in Seasons 2 and 3

But then there’s Season 3b Megatron, in which he has some adventure across the multiverse and comes back to help his universe, armed with his own Matrix and actually willing to save the day and have peace with Optimus and end the war, even if the planet is split in two. And at least in his initial appearance, he seems like he’s actually become at least a slightly better person

Like on one hand, I like this idea of him becoming better on his own time, and also we can just accept that maybe he’s become actually better since we don’t know what he was up to to cause this. But in the other, I really would have liked to see what he was up to. I guess they didn’t have enough time to show us

But yeah in 3b, he’s still an ass but he isn’t causing too much trouble, and is instead preparing for a worse threat to come, and then dies not as a villain, though he got taken out too quick to be called a hero in this scenario. Kind of disappointed he didn’t really get to do anything when the other Megatron showed up, would have been nice to see

But also I’m told that’s actually what kills him? He actually dies? I guess it is a more powerful version of him, but considering the other things other Megatrons have survived, and also we never really saw him die in the episode itself, considering he made noises of pain after being attacked and we just didn’t see him again after Bee took his Matrix, it feels kind of weak to me

I don’t know, his concepts in 3b are interesting to me

Also random side note, while I wasn’t expecting it, I appreciate his fusion cannon and mace having red lights instead of purple. I’m used to the purple but the red is consistent with the rest of his colors

Also there’s the subject of Cyberverse megop. It doesn’t have TFA’s issue of being strangers, in fact they seem to have known each other for a very long time and there’s no Elita or anything in this universe to be another past option for Optimus. And Megatron does do some bad things in this series, some worse than others, but also it seems like the characters of this show aren’t the most serious about this war, at least not like they are in Prime or something. Apparently every few millennia or so Optimus and Megatron try to have peace talks and negotiate, only for it to inevitably fall apart and things to start up again, and everyone’s just used to this

I think I can ship it, they have divorced energy and both sides are just used to it, including each other. They are in essence, the core values of typical megop I think, except they were actually on decent terms by the end of things, when Megatron dies. Sad that, why’d he have to die? At least make it heroic or something so he can go out with a bang

Yeah I don’t know, thought I should sprinkle in some thoughts on this version of Megatron while I’m here. I don’t have much honestly other than I think he’s fine and neat, and so is this version of the ship

I think I’m done now

[bokettochild]

What is your favorite obscure piece of legend lore?

There is so much freaking lore about Legend in the mangas! and the old games! I know the mangas aren't cannon and stuff, but I think non-cannon is the peak of obscure, so I'll just go off!

The violet eyes thing is very precious to me, but that's a headcannon, so let's just... yeah

I think it would be his connection to Fi. There are very few heroes who actually hear the voice of the Master Sword, and many never do. In most of the stories we actually see the hero striving to be worthy of the blade! Sky fights so hard to be enough, to prove himself, if not to Fi than most certainly to Impa and himself. Warriors' journey features his own struggles with the blade, his hubris and folly. While I haven't played the game, the Twilight Princess manga does show Twilight undergoing a similar struggle of achieving the worthiness of holding the Master Sword, even finding it too heavy to lift at times when his heart is not in the right place or his pride is getting in the way.

But Legend never faces that. Granted, his stories are all so much simpler than that of the others, at least, as far as game play is concerned, and the manga creators didn't really go too nuts with his personal journey like they did with Twilight, but still! Legend finds the Master Sword in decay and ruin, and she speaks to him. She's not strong, she's not harsh, she's nothing like she is in any other game ever (except TOTK sort of) and she looks at this little kid who wanders across her and says "yes, that one".

The kid who has nothing to gain from saving the world. The kid who's already lost everything there is to lose. The kid who is repeatedly giving of himself and what little he has to help others in his journey, even though in the long run it means nothing. She looks at him and when he draws her blade she welcomes him

Legend is one of the only heroes to not only have Fi's full approval before he ever wields her, but is also the hero who just....has so much connection with Fi. Their fates have been intertwined for nearly as long as he's lived. She's the only comfort he's consistently had at his side.

I love that he never had to fight to be enough. Legend has so many struggles; being a good enough hero, especially when he never set out to be one, isn't something he needed to face. Legend is a pure-hearted person (which is even pointed out by others and displayed many times in the manga) and was already worthy. His rabbit soul tells us he's probably fighting his own fears and worries, anxieties and terrors, all through his adventure. To have Fi's security and strength to lean on, to compliment his own, rather than cold indifference, disapproval or expectation, was something he needed.

I also love the fact that Legend went out of his way to ask Farore to go and get Fi for him when he went out on his other adventures. he didn't know he needed her, but when he did, he asked for her so he could be at his best. Legend is most complete with the Master Sword beside him. He's not fully himself without a sword (hence why every adventure after ALTTP almost always features him searching out a blade first thing) especially without HIS sword.

Fi is Sky's sword. The Sword that he completed. First forged her, but left her unfinished. Sky perfected her. But Legend took her at her weakest and strengthened her again. Sky may be her Master, but I like to think Legend is her boy. They've been together for so long. He's been without people for so much of his adventures, and knowing she can speak, that she has a soul, I image he speaks to her when he's lonely. We see him speak to her in LU, fondly calling her "old girl" with a sort of familiarity that's singular to him. He probably shared everything with her; his fears, his hopes, his insecurities. She's Sky's sword, but she's Legend's friend.

I've joked about it before, once even put it in a fic, but Fi is the only being Legend has consistently had in his life. The only one whose never left him, no matter what happens or where he goes. She's his guide, his help, his strength and assurance and the one thing he knows will never fail him.

Honestly, if you haven't noticed that Legend smiles more at the sword than at any one of the heroes, you're missing out. And it's such a beautiful smile too!

There's warmth, familiarity, recognition- so much in that smile.

Fi is important to Legend, and I like to think he's important to her too.

Anyways, this is all to say that I love how Legend is one of the only ones to hear the blade speak, and how it implies that he and she are connected in a way that Wild, that Flora, that so many heroes and princesses before and after have striven to be, and I think it's beautiful that it comes naturally to him. Legend deserves to have had at least one thing easy!

[astral-field-guide]

The Underbelly's Pit (Fan-made astral lore)

The Underbelly is a sort of black market-type city that lives in the abandoned mines just below Central City. It's a packed full, crime abound place, and yet it still has not caught the eyes of the court astrals. Or rather… they choose not to see it (more on that theory later). If you're unfortunate as I am to have accidentally stumbled upon the cutthroat streets of The Underbelly, you might have noticed crowds of sneering creatures flocking to a mini coliseum when the markets of Central City become desolate and quiet. Whatever you do, DO NOT FOLLOW. Why? Well, my friend, you have just found The Pit. The most dangerous and vile part of The Underbelly.

The Pit is a fighting ring where astrals/aliens are pinned against each other and are forced to hunt each other down if they ever want a chance to see sunlight again. If you owe a shady guy some favors and don't come through with them, there's a slight chance you can find yourself in the ring. Don't worry! While you're getting the snot beaten out of you, you always have the rowdy (usually intoxicated) crowd cheering the fighters on! I've heard things like “RIP HIS HEAD OFF!” and “SKEWER HIM ALIVE!” and “PLUCK OUT HER EYEBALLS AND FEED THEM TO HER!” I'm not entirely sure how that last one is possible, since the space creature they were referencing was literally made of light and had no eyes, but whatever floats your boat, I guess?

Betting is always welcome in the pit. I've seen creatures trade in lots of coins, gems, expensive items, whatever consists of currency across the cosmos, just for them to walk away with no money at all. Typically, the creature in the ring with the least amount of bets is granted a small weapon that could easily turn the tides if used right. Clearly, whoever runs this thing doesn't like to play fair. The most terrifying part is when the crowd gets angry and tries to throw smaller alien bystanders in the ring. Thankfully, this has never happened to me (I might not be walking if it did), however, there is this alien near the entrance selling snacks that gives me a look. It's best to avoid her. I don't exactly want the world to know what “Earthling flavored popcorn” tastes like.

I've heard this strange rumor that the astrals allow the Underbelly to operate because of the coliseum. The rumor goes something along the lines of how there's a court astral funding and supporting The Pit for their entertainment. A bunch of hogwash if you ask me. I don't exactly know what the court astrals act like, but I wouldn't be surprised if they think they're too upper class for fighting entertainment or even treading the same ground as “the lower class.” But, yeah. It's all rumors and nothing more. Although… Now that I think about it, there always is this sort of balcony area, shielded with curtains that seems quite regal. It's too high up to see anything past the curtains from the stands. I guess… anything is possible, right?

[just-prime]

I was looking back to see when I originally started Dream House and found that the one year anniversary is today!!!!

So I was scrolling through the notes on the original post and found this lovely comment from @hoblingtyrant

Also, I would have responded to this directly but now the post is locked because @midnight-downpour's old blogs all got terminated >:(

BUT, it was the perfect lead-in for an update post!!!

Because let's just say that wishes have been granted, cuz I am offically finished (okay I was a few days ago, but wanted to make this anniversary post, so bear with me) with The Horror of Dream House Book 1, Myth of Sisyphus and the final word count has come out to 158,022 words!

Which is kinda insane if I'm being perfectly honest.

There already is a short Book 1.5 that will also be published once all of Book 1 is up and posted, though probably after a short break, similar to the one that will happen between Part 1 and Part 2 of Book 1.

To everyone who's been following along for the ride, I just want to say thank you so much, your comments have buoyed me in times of struggle and your kind words consistently bring smiles to my faces. To those who've done art, I literally have no words for how amazing it feels to have created something that inspires art, truly an incredible feeling. I also want to thank @sledgehamur for all of their support on late night calls as I babble for hours about plot points and character arcs, their help transcends that of beta reading and functionally are the second set of brain cells I run ideas through to make sure everything makes sense...couldn't have done it without you.

And of course, @midnight-downpour, had your art not sparked such inspiration within me, so if anything, this is all your fault :P

This has been so fun, and I am currently giving myself some breathing room before starting in on Book 2 properly for this years NaNo, so I'm looking forward to crafting another story within this world. I plan on bringing in some character that I think people will be excited for... >:D

So yeah...if you've read all of this, you get a gold star and a hug, and as always my askbox is open if you have any questions about Dream House. I'll answer to the best of my ability without giving spoilers!

[cassafrasscr]

Hear me out. Orym absolutely has a type, and it’s himbos.

For the sake of clarity: Himbo = big, strong, kind, and dumb as a post. 😂

To be clear, I know Orym’s INT stat is nothing worth writing home about at 13. He’s technically above the civilian NPC average of 10, but he only gets a +1 modifier. HOWEVER... when you compare Orym to the rest of his friends, he's consistently among the smartest in terms of stats. He's literally tied with MISTER for the highest INT in the Crown Keepers, lol.

Will - Granted, we don't really know very much about what Will was like, but we can extrapolate based on a few crucial details. Will trained in swordsmanship with Orym, and they were in the Tempest Blades together - meaning Will's class was probably Fighter (maybe multi-classed with Druid, but definitely at least a Fighter). If that's the case, INT was probably his dump stat.

Will was half-elven, so probably tall (not that the bar is very high for Orym at 3'3"... literally).

He probably also had decent strength. Especially if he was anything like Derrig, who had a STR stat of 18.

Dorian - Sweet, gentle, and charming. Tall (around 6 feet), with surprisingly high STR for a primary spellcaster (College of Swords Bard, baby!)

Not unintelligent per se (he's technically above the civilian average of 10), but not especially bright by PC standards. Has an INT stat of 12, which is 1 less than Orym’s. Definitely at least an Honorary Himbo, if not a True Himbo. Plus, his brother Cyrus is definitely a himbo, so clearly it runs in the family.

Ashton - I think most people wouldn't classify Ashton as a true himbo, and I am inclined to agree. Himbos are typically nice to people, and Ashton is not particularly nice before you get to know them. That said, Ashton is kind, particularly to people in unfortunate circumstances ("Never steal copper", how gentle they were with Professor Sumal after Ludinus scrambled her brain, etc.)

As Orym said to Ashton in e79: "Despite your stony exterior, you have a soft heart."

Ashton stands at 5'10" in his regular form, and just shy of 8' in his newly revealed Titan form, so he ranges from tall to Xtra Tall. And as a Barbarian, STR is naturally their best stat. Ashton actually has pretty decent intelligence for a Barbarian, with an INT stat of 12 (same as Dorian), but it is also still lower than Orym’s by 1.

Dariax - I'll be honest, Dariax is really only here because Orym once confessed to checking out his butt and liking what he saw, lol.

ANYWAY, Dariax has peak Himbo Energy TM. He's a little chaotic, sure, but Dariax is friendly, affectionate, and surprisingly charming. His STR is actually decent for a Sorceror at 14. Plus, with an INT of 8 and a WIS of 9, he is officially in Dumb-as-a-Bag-of-Hair territory, lol. Dariax isn't super tall, being a Dwarf, but Dwarves are still taller than Halflings by around a foot on average.

So yeah. Orym likes men, and he likes them tall, strong, nice, and none too bright. 😂