#color for humans is only so broad and we are so good at coming up with meaning and nuance.

[wanderingandfound]

Second time in about 48 hours that I have gone into the search mines to bring out a specific pride flag for my blog only to be met with either long or thoughtless posts about how x flag is the most inferior or y flag is the most superior while shitting on other flag designs. Like, I am all for making as many flags as you want — the more the merrier no monopolies here. I would just like for people to keep in mind:

Which communities (including geographical and cultural!!!) specific flags come from and why they were created.

You do not need to be represented by every single stripe for the flag to be applicable to you.

If a flag is featuring a specific identity there's probably a reason for that, I don't care if it's ugly.

Please cite sources and inspiration! Flags represent communities and usually come from community involvement and influence.

Seriously unless a flag was made purposefully to demean or alienate others it's probably fine. You don't have to use it or prefer it and you can be annoyed with it but it doesn't mean it's the end of the world.

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

First Date, Huh?

Summary: The human race is at danger of extinction. The government had come up with a plan to increase the level of population throughout the country that involved you and a very good looking man.

Warning: unprotected sex. oral (both receiving). creampie. slight degradation. overstimulation. male and female anatomy. afab reader. impregnating. breeding kink (kinda?) aftercare. mentions of medical procedures (I forgot what it was called lol). not proofread. wrote this right after my dream sooo…

Word Count: 5,155

A/N: I had a dream about this and I woke up thinking I was pregnant😭 (be safe out there y’all) anyways, I picked up far cry 5 again and I’m literally eating that game up

“Falling for a stranger, good gracious. I might even fly out to Vegas. I’m thinking maybe you’d be down to do it,” Love Talk (demo), WayV

The world population had been declining after the rise of a deadly disease. People died in groups and the government had tried to prevent the spread.

But their attempts were in vain.

Decades after the virus had finally been tamed. The world had been left with only one third of its population remaining. The economies across the countries crashed and people had to rebuild themselves slowly.

However, that all came to a halt when the government suddenly introduced a new bill.

They had planned for a procreating program. In which scientists were able to develop a new technology wavelength that can determine what person is more biologically compatible with another person.

The government had ordered people to come to the nearest available clinics in order for the scientists to collect a sample of their blood. Of your blood.

Months passed after the collection of blood and suddenly a group of soldiers, along with scientists, stormed inside the houses of people and marked them with bracelet bands.

The soldiers sedated everyone and transported them to an underground warehouse. The warehouse itself was an underground bunker with scientists roaming around in their lab coats.

The underground facility was huge- it could be considered an underground city if the president decided to. But he didn’t.

When you woke up, you noticed you were inside a room with white walls. The floor and ceiling were white. Even the lights were white. Everything was white, except for the red bed you were currently in.

They had laid you down on a bed full of pillows and blankets. Your eyes blurred as they adjusted to the lights of the room.

Sitting up, you’ve noticed- and probably felt- the presence of someone laying down next to you. You looked over at the person and noticed it was a man.

He was waking up as well. He had dirty blonde hair and looked to be tall and broad. His features were rough and masculine, with his stubble being noticeable under the harsh lighting. As you sat up, he slowly sat up as well and took in the environment. When both of you laid eyes on each other, you both let out a gasp and quickly got off the bed.

You quickly realized what either of you were wearing. They had changed you into a skimpy satin nightgown while he was wearing a silk pajama set that revealed his chest due to the V-line cut.

The intercom from the room turned on and a person spoke,

“Good morning to you two. I’m sure you’re both confused and scared but afraid be not. We’re ensuring your safety at this establishment. As you both can see, you’re both wearing the same color of wristbands.”

You looked down at your right wrist and saw the green wristband, your eyes trailed towards the man and his was also green.

“This means that both of you are biologically compatible. Our goal here is to not hurt you. We’re simply trying to bring back the population back to where it should be and we need your help.”

Your eyes widened and so did his. The man’s eyebrows pinched together as look of suspicion and anger appeared on his face. But he didn’t say anything.

“I’m sure you both know what this means. You have the remainder of the day to get started. We expect positive results since we’ve run extensive research on your genetics. That is all, get started.”

Essentially, they wanted you to have sex with a stranger. That’s revolting.

You turned your gaze back to the man, his blue eyes stood out from his features. Neither of you said anything. It was all too…awkward. You glanced at the bed and then back at him. How do you even start something so intimate?

“Um-“ you started quietly, “So…we’re compatible.”

The man simply stared at you and then back at his wrist. He nodded, “Yeah. Seems so.”

“Should I-“

“We don’t have to do anything,” he interrupted you, “What’re they going to do if we do nothing? They can’t kill us. Those mad scientists need as many people as possible and if they killed you or me then what’s the whole point of this?”

You sighed and nodded. He was right in a way. Even if you disobeyed they couldn’t kill you, right?

Sitting at the edge of the bed, you begin to wonder everything that has happened so far. They’re making everyone breeding machines- is what you thought.

Before all of this, you were living your life the way you wanted it. And now you were forced to have a baby with someone you don’t know. All for the sake of humanity.

It was cruel.

“What do we do instead?” You asked quietly.

“Find a way out of here,” he responded as he walked around the room and tried to find an exit. There was no door. No windows. Nothing. As if you two were put in a white box.

He was getting frustrated that he had been put in this position. He didn’t want any of this, not with you. It wasn’t personal but he didn’t know you.

“There’s no way out,” he spoke after some time. It didn’t take a genius to know that you two were locked in this space.

“Do they really want us to…” your voice trailed off as you stared at him. He looked back at you and shrugged, “Maybe. Those crazy bastards are probably stressing about the human race dying or whatever.”

After a moment of silence, you could smell something. Something that smelled good.

“Is that you?” He asked. He also smelled something.

“I was just about to ask if it was you too,” you replied.

He furrowed his brows and sat next to you. He leaned closer to your neck and inhaled softly.

“It’s the both of us,” he whispered. You stared into his eyes at the proximity.

What was happening?

Did the scientists do something? Why did he suddenly look more attractive and smelled enticing?

You leaned back and got up from the bed. Panic started to run through your veins. “Do you think-“

He raised a brow and sat in the edge of the bed as he watched you pace around the room. You hadn’t noticed but he was secretly checking you out in that nightgown. He felt shame and quickly looked away- this wasn’t him.

“Do you think they put something on us?” You asked, your tone laced with anxiety.

The man sighed and ran a hand through his blonde hair, “I don’t know. But they sure know what they’re doing.”

“We should just get on with it. They won’t let us out anytime soon. But maybe they will once we had sex, right?” You asked with a rushed tone. Thoughts occupied your mind and all you wanted to do was get out of this sick and twisted place.

He looked at you with a worried expression, “Are you sure? I mean, we don’t even know each other’s names and-“

“Y/n. My name is y/n,” you interrupted him.

The man raised his brows in surprise and let out an airy chuckle, “Well okay. Name’s Leon.”

He extended his hand out for a handshake and you hesitantly took it. His hands were rough and calloused. Almost made you wonder how they’d feel inside your wet and tight-

What.

You quickly withdrew your hand and looked away. What was going on with you?

“You really want to do this?” He asked softly. You looked at him and swallowed hard. Did you? Or was it whatever the scientists gave you that spoke for you? Either way, you still wanted to get out of this place.

“If fucking you is the only way that could get us out of here then so be it,” you muttered and walked back to the bed.

You sat next to him, shoulders touching.

“Okay then…” he replied quietly, “Guess this is our first date, huh?” He joked.

You looked at him with furrowed brows, how did he have the spirits to joke times like these? Men.

You sat down next to him on the bed, staring at him. He stared right back at you and his gaze fell to your lips. He then leaned in to whisper in your ear, "Can I?”

He put his hand on your cheek as his other hand landed on your thigh. You silently nodded and closed your eyes as he leaned closer to your face.

His breath fanned your lips and all you could do was close your eyes as he finally put his lips on your lips.

The hand on your cheek traveled to the back of your head as he pulled you closer, your hands traveled to his shoulders as you deepened the kiss.

It was a slow, passionate kiss- albeit the current circumstances.

His tongue grazed your bottom lip and you parted your lips just enough for his tongue to delve inside your mouth, exploring every crevice.

The hand on your thigh went higher up to the hem of your nightgown, squeezing the skin gently in between his finger. You moaned into his mouth as he gently hit your bottom lip.

You’ve already started to feel aroused and wet, even though there was a lingering thought in the back of your head telling you that this is wrong.

He leaned closer to you, pushing you down gently until your back finally touches the bed. Leon’s hands moved around your body as he kissed you, his knee right in between your legs causing you to moan quietly.

He smirked at your reaction and moved his lips down to your neck as he pressed his knee into your wet cunt. You couldn’t help but grind on his knee as he sucked your neck. Leaving bruises and hickeys for you to worry about tomorrow.

Your hands wrapped around his biceps as his hands held your waist and squeezed just a tad bit.

He slowly brought his lips down to your collarbone before one of his hands pulled the straps of your nightgown down. Causing the dress to slip down to your waist, revealing your breasts to him.

He pulled back and stared at your hardened nipples with a slight smirk. His fingers hovered over them as he kept teasing you. Then he leaned down to suck the right one, as his hand began to roll your nipple in between his fingers. Your back arched against him and that only caused him to groan at the bliss of sucking your tit.

Your legs squeezed around his as he rubbed it slightly against your covered cunt. He could feel the wetness seeping through the fabric of your panties and that only turned him on even more.

His erection, confined against his clothes, rubbed along your stomach. You could almost feel it twitch as you felt it. Almost.

He pulled back from your right breast and moved on to the second one. His teeth grazed at your nipple as his hand gripped the previously sucked one.

And all you could do was moan and squirm under him.

He moved his lips down from your breasts to your stomach before ripping your nightgown apart and throwing it down on the white floor. Leaving you in your panties.

His lips trailed kisses until he met the waistband of your panties. His fingers ran down your thighs as he slowly parted them, lowering himself until he felt his knees touch the floor. His head was right in between your legs and he stared at the wet spot on the slit of your panties.

He brought a finger and stroked the slit from top to bottom, he made sure to apply just enough pressure for you to not only feel how wet you were but also to feel the way his fingers wanted to prod inside.

You closed your eyes tightly shut as your toes curled. This was all too much and he hasn’t even started. He chuckled lowly, seeing how you were reacting made his pride increase just a little.

He firmly pressed your thighs down on the bed as he brought his face back to the waistband and began to pull your panties down with his teeth. Once they had reached your thighs, he pulled them off with his hands and let them fall on the floor.

You were shining and glistening. His mouth watered and all he wanted to do was dive in. And so he did.

Almost immediately he struck his tongue into your wet hole, licking around as he savored you. He moaned as he tasted you, he’d never tasted something like you and he wanted more.

His thumb circled around your clit, his speed shifting from fast to slow as he watched how much that affected you. He dragged his tongue all the way up and down, sucking your wall and letting them feel just how spongy they are. He then pulled back and moved his thumb away from your clit- which caused to whine in protest.

He gave you a look, one that made you more wet. His eyes piercing yours as he thrusted one finger inside you. He let his index finger stay there for about ten seconds before he actually began to move it. He curled it around as he experimented with what way got you most closest to your orgasm.

His finger curled inside you as he kissed your clit. Sucking it and gently pulling it with his teeth. He took out his finger and then thrusted two fingers inside, causing your mouth to gaze open and let your head roll back against the mattress. He scissored you- fucked you with his fingers.

Pulling out and thrusting all the way back in. His callouses rubbed against your walls, bringing new sensations that you never thought you’d ever experience.

One his index finger hit the spot that made you moan a little too loud, he knew he’d found it. He curled his fingers even more rapidly as he rubbed that spot inside you. Brushing the pad of his middle finger against it, igniting something within you. Your body felt warm and sweaty.

You were coming undone by a complete stranger that is allegedly compatible with you. Your hands traveled to the top of his head and pulled his face closer to your hide. His nose bumped against your slit, his chin hitting fingers. But he didn’t mind, he knew you were close and he wanted you to cum on his face.

He licked your clit as you grinded against his face, your breaths became short and your grip tightened. With a gasped moan, you came on Leon’s face. Your cum spilling down his fingers and chin. He pulled out his fingers and licked as much as he could, swallowing the grace that came out of you.

Once he finished licking you clean, he pulled back and stared at you with dilated pupils. The black consuming all of the blue as he stared at you like a hunter. He got up from the floor and stared down at you as he became mesmerized with your body.

He pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his broad and muscled chest. He then pulled down on his pants, revealing the bulge in his underwear. Pre-cum leaking through the fabric.

You almost drooled and quickly sat up. Crawling your way to him, you sat on your knees as he caressed your head, encouraging you to do whatever you wanted with his dick.

Your hands cupped his bulge and he instantly inhaled sharply. He shuddered at your touch and so you slowly pulled the waistband of his underwear down, watching in awe as his cock sprung free.

The pink tip leaking ore-cum as aforementioned was a sight to behold. Your hand wrapped around his base as you brought your lips over to the head. Kissing it softly as your hand stroked up and down his shaft. He closed his eyes and gripped on your hair, strands meddling in between his fingers.

Your tongue dragged all the down to the bottom, to his ballsack. He shuddered and bucked his hips against your face, smearing pre-cum along your cheek. You parted your lips and slowly took him inside your mouth.

Your hands found his balls and you slowly massaged them, causing him to groan and moan loudly as his grip tightened.

As his dick was inside your mouth, your tongue flicked down the frenulum- just the underside of the tip where the head and the base join. He gasped softly and moaned as he felt you flick your tongue on his sweet spot.

Your tongue slowly moved down from his frenulum to his base, tongue slurping and swirling around as you took him deeper and deeper into your throat. Not deep enough that you’d start gagging because that would probably not feel good.

Instead, you took one of your hands and resumed stroking the remaining parts of his base as you sucked on on the part that fit in your mouth.

Leon was a complete mess; moaning and whimpering as you took him in your mouth. His feet flat on the floor as he looked down at you with pure list and desire. Your eyes met his and he only felt even more turned on.

His cock started to twitch in your mouth and you knew he was about to cum. You continued to stroke his balls and base as your tongue worked its magic on his head and frenulum.

With a loud groan, he gripped your head and forced his entire cock inside your mouth and shot his cum down your throat. Tears pricked at your eyes as you moaned softly as the sensation of his juices spilling down your esophagus. It was warm, you thought.

He pulled back breathlessly and watched as you swallowed his cum. Once he pulled back, some of his cum smeared on your lips and he watched as you licked it back in your mouth. The sight turned him on again and his cock got hard.

Leon got on the bed and slowly pushed you down again. He took hold of your thighs and brought them up to your chest, “Hold,” he demanded in a sultry and low voice.

Your hands wrapped around the back of your thighs as you held them pressed up against your breasts. He aligned his cock to your entrance and slowly pushed in.

“Fuck- so tight,” he muttered as he gasped for air. You rolled your head back and whimpered as he pushed himself all the way through. His pelvic bone making contact with your bone as he slowly began to thrust- not fully out though.

He rolled his hips in a way that wouldn’t allow his cock to leave you completely just yet. He was going slow and gentle, making sure you’ve adjusted first before he picked up the pace.

Once he saw your reaction- face scrunched up in delight as you moaned quietly and breathlessly. He pulled out and then pushed back in with force.

Leon couldn’t control himself anymore. His hands pushed your knees even more down against the mattress, your hamstrings flexing as he pushed this position even more further.

Your breathing increased- chest heaving up and down. His ballsack slapping against your asshole, causing your wetness to spread throughout your both bodies. His tip gently brushed up against your cervix as he plunged in. One of his hands went down to your clit and began to circle it.

You writhed and moaned even more as he simultaneously triggered your two sweet spots. It was all so overwhelming and your mind went blank.

He was fucking you dumb and you loved it. Your jaw went slack, drool coming out from the ends of your lips. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you still held on to your thighs.

He left go of your knees and gripped your hips, the sound of wet skin smacking echoing through the room.

“Gonna cum,” he muttered. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “I’m gonna breed you…fuck- gonna be a good girl f’me right?” He grunted as he kept pounding into you.

His knuckles were turning white from how hard he gripped the fat skin of your hips, as if he was holding on for dear life. You nodded, “Yes,” you breathed out shamelessly.

He grunted some more against your ear and that only caused you to grow closer to your second orgasm. This man was so vocal but it was hot.

“Ngh- fuck,” he moaned as he shot his cum deep into your cunt. Cum spirting into your womb, making sure you took everything without spilling it.

He pulled put and motioned for you to roll over. You obliged and rolled over until you laid down on your stomach. He took hold of your hips once again, raising your ass to his level as he thrusted his cock inside you from behind.

Your face planted against one of the pillow and your hands gripped the bedsheets as your moans came out muffled. Somehow, he hit deeper in this position. His hands went from your hips to your waist and he squeezed it gently.

As he continued to pound into you, your ass cheeks juggling from the force of motion, he took your hair in one hand and pulled your head up. Your eyes were closed as you moaned. This was all so much but you needed more. Completely drunk on his cock is what you were.

He leaned down as he pulled on your hair, “Like it when I fuck you like this, huh?” He taunted. His words were sent straight to your pussy as it caused you to clench around him. You nodded and blabbered stupid yes’s.

“Gonna show me how much you like it?” He whispered as he pulled one and forcefully thrusted in you. You whimpered and moaned as you replied a breathy yes. He chuckled and continued fucking you like a mad dog.

He let go of your hair and wrapped his hand on the back of your neck, his fingers gently pressing on the sides of your throat. You felt lightheaded as he did so but it also added to how hot and turned on you were.

You felt your orgasm near as he continued. Your cunt clenched and pulsated around his cock and it only caused his moans to get short and breathy.

“Feel’s good,” he grunted in your ear. You could only mewl, moan, whimper- all of those sounds were the only things escaping your lips.

His other hand went down to your clit and he pinched it gently, causing a big moan to erupt from your mouth as you came on his cock. Essence spilling down from his shaft and onto the bed but neither of you cared. He groaned and his thrusts faltered slightly as you came on his cock, it felt even more tight and he closed his eyes for a moment as he continued.

But not long after you did he also cum inside you. For the second time. And it felt better than the first. You whimpered from the overstimulation as he shot his cum even deeper, the tip of his head brushing your cervix as his cum (and you were convinced) entered your womb with certainty.

He let go of the back of your throat and slowly pulled out of you. His cock softening as cum oozed out of your cunt and down on the bed. Both of you were left panting and you starting to feel sore and tired already. He looked around to try and find something to clean you with but couldn’t find anything.

So, he resorted to using his shirt to clean you off, “This might hurt,” he spoke softly as he gently pressed the fabric on your cunt and wiped the cum off. He tried to be as gentle as possible as he heard you take in sharp breaths. You were overstimulated and he started to feel bad for how hard he went.

He helped you lay down on your side and dressed you up. He put on your panties but then realized he had torn your nightgown.

“Sorry,” he mumbled shamefully. You shook your shoulders and looked at him with tired eyes, “It’s fine. They weren’t mine anyway.”

You both chuckled at that. You two had almost forgotten the situation you were both in, and maybe that was a good thing.

He pulled on his underwear and pants- since his shirt was used as a towel- and pulled the blanket over your body to give you some privacy. Even though he just fucked you.

He laid down behind you and wrapped his around your waist as he pulled you to him. Both of you closed your eyes and slept for a while, him nuzzling into your hair as your hands rested on top of his arms around your waist.

It was comforting. You felt cared for and that was all that mattered.

-

The two of you woke up to the sound of a door opening. Your eyes fluttered open almost immediately and you covered yourself with the blanket as Leon watched the scientists come in with a suspicious look. He narrowed his eyes as he saw them approach you.

“We’re going to take both of you to the examination room for testing,” one of them said. The other scientists gave you some new clothes before speaking, “We will wait outside.”

After they left, you exhaled loudly. You had forgotten you and the rest of the people were taken for insemination.

You slowly began to pull your new clothes on and walked out of the room with Leon next to you. The scientists saw you both and began to guide to a room down the hall, with two guards following behind you.

They had told Leon to wait in the lobby as they took you to a more private room. A female scientist came up to you and out on some elastic gloves, “I’ll be the one performing your pregnancy test. I’ll be taking your blood so please relax and take deep breaths for me.”

You sat down on the bed and followed her advice. There was no point in fighting or arguing since she clearly looked exhausted, probably overworked. But you couldn’t feel bad. You felt bitter at the fact that you now had turned into a baby machine- along with the rest of population.

With a sigh, you relax your tensed muscles as she took your arm gently and injected the needle on your vein. Blood began to draw from your arm and into a tube. Suddenly, you felt a wave of washiness. Fatigue overtook your body.

The test was over after a few minutes. The doctor withdrew the needle and put on a bandaid, “Okay. Off you go. Test results should be back in a couple of days. For now… I don’t know,” she shrugged tiredly as she moved over to the side of the room where she stored your blood sample with the rest.

There were at least 100 other blood samples. The mere sight disturbed you and you found yourself leaving the room hastily. Walking back to Leon, he looked at you concerned and gave you a once over to make sure you’re okay. Once he silently approved that you were okay, he spoke with a soft tone, “How do you feel?”

“Like shit,” you muttered. “Did you know that there’s a bunch of us here?” You whispered as your eyes searched around, “I don’t think we can leave.”

He furrowed his brows and looked at you, “Why not? We’ve done the deed, shouldn’t we be free to go home?”

You shook your head, “No. I don’t think so. I have a feeling we’ll be stuck here if the results come back positive.”

He sighed and looked away as the information set in. Freedom was so close, yet so far.

“So now we just wait?” He asked quietly to which you nodded.

“And now we wait.”

-

Days have passed and you two were called to a room. A scientist sat in the middle of the room, on his chair where he had stacks upon stacks of papers. Both of you sat down in front of the desk and waited for the scientist to notice you two.

“Ah- you’re here,” he muttered as he swiftly began to look for some papers.

“Alright… just to confirm the information is correct. You’re both Leon Kennedy and Y/n L/n?” The scientist asked.

The two of you nodded silently and the scientist continued, “Okay so, we have the results. You are pregnant. Which means we’ll have to keep you both under surveillance. You are to stay in this facility until the birth of your child. You will be assisted with the birth as well as the raising. We will provide all the essential services required for this procedure, all you two have to do is remain healthy. And please, for the love of God, be kind to the child. The couple before me kept on arguing so the least you two could do is pretend you love each other in front of the kid.”

You and Leon exchanged a glance and then looked back at the scientist. You knew this would happen, it was inevitable.

“Before I forget, you two got assigned a new room. On the second floor. Good luck and congratulations,” he said as he dismissed you both.

The two of you stood up and left the room, only to be met with two guards to escort you both to your new room.

You were to share a room but at this point, you didn’t care. You were too focused on thinking about the pregnancy that you had forgotten about Leon.

-

The more you hung out with Leon, you didn’t know if it was by force or nature, the more you realized how kind he truly is. He looked cold and mean on the exterior but inside he was just a man looking for love. Just like everyone else.

The pregnancy went just fine. Leon was there to support you 24/7 and so were the scientists.

When you had to give labor, Leon stood next to you and held your hand.

You gave birth to a beautiful boy. He had your hair while he had Leon’s eyes. You held your son in your arms and watched as Leon looked at you with awe.

What you weren’t expecting at all was that you fell for Leon. Even before the birth of your son, you and Leon actually began dating. The two of you shared some interests and actually liked to be around each other’s presence.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Maybe this was a new type of freedom for you.

[shotmrmiller]

Needs must

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

WC: 2.1K

TW: prostitution, explicit fingering, and smut-ish.

ive got 4 other ideas for this goddamn escort au and one of em is MY BOY JOHNNY. oof i cant wait. im mad it took me this long to do this. I wrote this listening to rich sex by nicki minaj.

You had needs. No matter how magical, a toy can only do so much for you. You wanted the praise of another human being—the warm touch of their hands around your waist, your neck. God, you needed to get laid. But after the disaster that was your last relationship, how nasty it ended, you couldn’t even ring your ex-girlfriend up for a booty call. 

Sucking your teeth, you look at your phone. Noon. Well, maybe one of your friends you’re about to meet up with for a weekly Saturday brunch knew someone who would be interested in a no-strings-attached situationship.

—

Flipping the card in your hands,  you chewed on your bottom lip in deliberation and looked down at the business card— the color of bone with raised black lettering. Ghost, it read, with his number on the back. How you ended up with this in your hand made you almost regret having reprobates for friends. An escort. That’s what they had shamelessly suggested. You had almost choked on your eggs benedict when one of them pulled out a contact card from their wallet and placed it by your mimosa. I mean, really. Preparing to argue about their lack of sense, they brought up a great point. It was either this, someone who was there for what you needed whenever you needed it, or your toys which were in a pathetic state from constant use. Your ex called it quits because you simply couldn't find the time to maintain a proper relationship— your demanding job took up most of it. You couldn’t believe you were about to do this.

Ghost. What a name. But you suppose it didn’t matter what his name was, only that he could do his job, and with the way your friend gushed over him— he’d leave you walking side to side. You needed this. You worked too hard for too many hours to not spend your money on some self-care. 

Fuck it. Maybe he will be just a one-time thing, you thought, and sent his number a text. 

—

Closing the door of your car, you briskly walk towards the small cafe Ghost had sent the address to; A cute little quaint coffee shop. Coming to a stop, you straighten your office skirt and run a hand through your hair before opening the door. Breathing in the coffee aroma, you look around for who you’re looking for, spotting him sitting in the back. The click of your heels echoes inside the cafe, catching the attention of your awaiting companion. He looks up and rises to stand, and it takes you aback. It was like witnessing a grizzly standing on its hind legs. Jesus.

He was tall, so tall, and broad. Wearing a black beanie and covering the lower half of his face with a mask, he extends his arm out to shake your hand, and you internally scream at how shapely his arm alone looks over his long-sleeved shirt. 

“I’m Ghost. It’s a pleasure, love.” 

Choking back a moan at his accent, you put your hand in his and say, “No, I’m sure it’ll be all mine.” You can see his dark eyes crinkle at your quip. 

“If we get through this smoothly, the next time we meet I’ll make sure of it.” 

As you let out a playful laugh, Ghost reaches for the back of your chair, pulling it out with a chivalrous gesture. “And a gentleman? You definitely know how to sell yourself.” 

“No, love. This is just a common courtesy. I don’t need t’tell you that I’m good,” and in one smooth motion, he extracts a sleek, forest green matte folder from the leather business bag lying at his feet.

“I need this filled out, just the usual— hard and soft limits. Safewords, nicknames, allergies, and so on.” You pick up the folder and open it, skimming over the contents of the front page. 

“This really is your job.” You flick your eyes from the folder to him and he’s already looking at you, watchful and steady. 

“O’ course it is. I take my clients, and future clients, seriously. I enjoy wha’ I do but it will never be at the cost of another. I will not make you uncomfortable in any way, nor risk your health. I aim to please you, not the other way around. And I cannot do tha’ if I don’t know tha’ you’re allergic to latex or completely against something I might do.” 

He gives a slight cough, and you divert your attention from the paper and meet his gaze. “What’s a pretty thing like you seeking out someone who offers these types of services?” and a lighthearted chuckle escapes you.

“The same reason the one who gave me your card did— just looking for a good time, no commitment.” 

He raises his eyebrows at that but makes no further comment. Smart man. Glancing at your wrist, you check the time. “Right,” and lean forward to get up when Ghost shoots up from his chair to pull out yours. “I’ll have your folder ready for you by the weekend,” and turn your head to face him.

“Is that when you’ll want this, then?” and you give a casual shrug. 

“If you happen to be available.” He reaches out and gently grabs your hand to pull you in for a tight embrace. Softly, he whispers in your ear, “I’ll be seeing you then, love.”

You leave with a silly little grin on your face.

—

The weekend comes and you’re a puddle of nerves. You can’t remember the last time someone made you this anxious. The knock on your door startles you out of your inner ramblings. It’s time. Taking in a deep, calming breath, you open it. 

Ghost calmly walks in, and starts taking off his mask, and then leather jacket.

“I’ve one absolute limit I forgot to mention,” he says in a firm tone. “I do not kiss. It is not a negotiation.” 

Well, you couldn’t give a damn if he didn’t. Nonchalantly, you shrug and say, “And mine is that we always use a condom.” With a nod and a chuckle, he eagerly grabs the folder from your table and starts flipping through its pages.

“A’right, love. Go get on the bed f’me.” The smirk he gives you is positively wicked. “I saw tha’ you have like to be told wha’ to do.” He jerks his chin towards your room. “And take everything off.” With nervous excitement, you run off, haphazardly tossing your clothes on the floor.

—

Eyes covered with a blindfold, all you hear is your shaky breathing and his footsteps on your plush rug. Your nerves feel exposed, raw. As you lie on the bed, you suddenly feel a firm grip on the flesh of your thighs, causing your skin to break out in goosebumps. The room's cool air contrasts with the warm heat radiating from his touch, pulling a hiss from your lips as he pulls you toward the edge of the bed.

“Atta girl, love. Open your legs f’me, lemme see that pretty pussy.” The lack of eyesight helps you to focus on his touch alone, making you fearless, and your legs drop open without hesitation as you lie on your back.

“Look at tha’. Aren’t you just a dream? Hm?” he puts his hands on your knees, keeping your thighs open, wet cunt exposed. “And you waxed, too. Hope tha’ wasn’t f’me.” You feel a fingertip slide from your hood, down to your clit and hole, spreading your juices around the labia and back up. Your nerves are on fire, your pussy clenching around nothing, forcing juices to drip down to your arsehole.

“A’right, pretty. Touch yourself. Shove your tiny little fingers into your,” he pauses to suck the skin of your inner thigh, “cunt and show me how to make you feel good.” He then moves his mouth closer to where you need it most, and bites. Are you defying me? Did you suddenly become deaf as well, once I blindfolded you?” and you aggressively shake your head. 

“No! No, sir. I hear you, loud and clear.” With a tight squeeze to your thighs, he says, “Then do as I say.” Moaning, you slowly bring your hand down, starting from your chest. Your palms rub against your pebbled nipples, down to your soft stomach, until your fingertips meet your swollen nub, then move in soft, tight circles, mewling at the feeling. The groan that reaches your ears is so lewd, you could come from that alone. 

“Tha’s it, baby. You’re doing so well. Look at how wet you are, fuck, show me just how you like it.” And you do. A vulgar noise comes from your hole once you stuff yourself with one finger, slowly stretching, before adding another. It’s something, but not enough, not what you want. Not thick enough, long enough, and that thought makes you whimper in disappointment. 

“Aw, are your fingers not satisfying? I’ll help you, sweet, only because you look so delicious spread out f’me like this. So vulnerable, bare.” His breath fans over your cunt, over your clit, and it sends a jolt up your spine— but he doesn’t move, doesn’t touch. It feels like you’ve been waiting for hours until he finally, finally, pushes a thick finger into you, and curls it, rubbing against the right spot, over and over, and then pushes in a second, threatening to tip you over the peak. The feeling is intense —your walls clench around him firmly in your rising pleasure.

“Oh, g-god, Ghost pleasepleaseplease,” squealing as you fuck yourself on his hand, and when your hypersensitive nerves pick up on the sensation of his scorching mouth on your clit, with a pulsating suction, your muscles tighten and tremble, to the point of pain, until Ghost gives one hard suck, forcibly pushing you off the edge. The wail you let out is ear-splitting— as ecstasy slams into your body, like waves crashing at shore. Your thighs squeeze Ghost’s head irrationally tight, but he doesn’t care, just groaning into your core, lapping up your juices like a dehydrated man who’s found an oasis. Your body stings— prickles from the vicious high you’re riding—chest heaving with sobs from the sheer force of it, fingernails digging into Ghost’s scalp, yanking on his hair. As your soul melts back into your body, you absentmindedly thank all the bloody gods for having friends who really do look out for you. 

Whimpering pathetically, your limbs go limp, loose, heavy. Ghost easily picks your body up and moves you toward the center of the bed, vertically, the blindfold still robbing you of your vision. 

 With a grunt of effort, his hand firmly settles by your ribcage, sinking into the softness of the bed, and then he slips a folded pillow beneath your hipbones, expertly arching your spine into a delicious angle. His hand firmly connects with your rear, not just once but twice, feeling the exquisite sting of it. The room falls into silence, only to be interrupted by the clinking sound of his belt buckle. Your body tenses as you hear the unmistakable sound of plastic being torn open, and then you feel his thick and warm shaft teasing your entrance. A moan escapes your lips as he penetrates you, his movements slow and sensual, until his hipbones press against your backside. Taking his time, he slowly pulls back his length, dragging it against your slick walls, before pushing forward again, covering your body with his own. His right hand is flat on the bed by your right shoulder, while his left curls around your neck, gently forcing your head to tilt back onto him. The tip of his head grinds against the entrance of your womb. 

He moans softly into your ear, before quietly purring, “Let’s see how many more orgasms I can wring out of you, pet.” The tightening of his makeshift necklace around your throat is your first and last warning of what is to come.

—

He pulled four. Four gut-wrenching, shattering orgasms before finding his own release. He left you a drooling, sloppy, sweaty mess on your bed, completely languid and relaxed. Somewhere, you faintly hear your phone ping with a notification. Hissing as you get up, you limp to your living room, and see it on the sofa. Unlocking it, you see that it’s Ghost, sending you his Cash App information. Holding in a chickle, you send him his money and wait for his confirmation. 

It was a real pleasure, doll. Let me know when you need me again.

Cackling to yourself, you place your phone back on the table. 

Bastard. 

He knows you’ll definitely be seeing him again.

[heartfullofleeches]

i just thought of the most weirdest yan ever.

A goldfish yan

A yan that is literally so aloof, dumb, quiet, wide eyed and says 'huh?' a lot

They still love reader a lot of course theyre just seeing shapes ans colors behind their eyelids for the first time

"Why won't this fish do anything?"

Big crowd today. Noisy - too. They don't like it. Too many flashing lights, and people trying to force food in their mouth when they aren't hungry at all. They don't like it - not at all, but they can't go home. Too big to fit in their old bowl, or even pass the front door. They miss home.

"Ripley!"

A loud voice parts the crowd as a figure pushes through; light returning to the goldfish's dull eyes as the human marches up to their tank and hooks their arms around their scaly neck. In the past their human could pick them up with one arm. Now, they struggling just to get their arms over their broad shoulders. Ripley rests their chin atop your head as one of their webbed hands reaches around you.

"I warned them not to wake you up until I got here. You gonna be a good guppy for me like always?"

The goldfish blinks. "Kay."

Who would've thought that little fish you took in all those years ago would grow up to become three times your size. All the love you gave, and every treats you snuck them likely played a role in their growth. Unable to house them, you made a deal with a local aquarium that would be able to provide them with everything they needed. It tore you both up inside to part, but with your new job you could see them whenever you pleased. It was the only way to get them to eat, or do much of anything besides blankly staring at visitors.

A hand grips your shoulder; brass rings cutting into your skin through your shirt. You wince from the weight behind it as your spun on your heels to face a red-faced visitor. Ripley's attention shifts to them. Their head cocks awkwardly to one side.

"Huh?"

"Finally. I've been waiting all morning for this thing to do something and all its done is stare at me. I'm on a time sensitive schedule here.

You force a smile and their hand from your shoulder. "I'm sorry - Riptide is just a little shy when I'm not around. If you, all of you, can give us about a half hour - I'm sure they'll be ready."

Majority of the crowd disburses at your ask. You look back at Ripley. "I'm going to go get your ball, and change into my wetsuit - then we can play, okay?"

The goldfish blinks again, lips posed in a small smile. "Kay!"

You walk off, leaving the disgruntled guest behind. They stand alone in front of Ripley's unlocked tank.

"Mean to Y/n....."

They look up at the large fish. "Oh, you can talk now?"

"Mean to Y/n...." The fish repeats. "I'll show you a fun trick. Here."

-

As you walk out of the staff lounge, a visitor comes up and taps you on your unbruised shoulder. You turn to face them. "Hello, how can I help you today?"

"I was just wondering. I've seen a few sources online referring to that goldfish you call Ripley as Ripper. May I ask why that is?"

"oh....well, Ripley doesn't take too kindly to people that pick on me. They got that nickname after they nearly drowned another guest because they threw a glass bottle at me, but due to them starting it - it mostly went under the radar. If you'll excuse me, I need to get back over to them."

Walking back to their tank, Ripley swims circles around the perimeter as you climb up and jump in. They let go of whatever was in their hands to scoop you up in both arms - a single brass ring floating to the bottom of the tank.

They knock their large head against yours. "Good guppy... Me."

[cocogum]

The dragon HAS to be Draconiros.

‼️ SPOILERS FOR THE GREAT WAVE ‼️

So a while ago, back when chapter 1 recently came out, a French YouTuber by the name of Zaki theorized that the dragon in Yugo’s nightmare might have been Draconiros.

For those who don’t know or don’t remember the dragon he was referencing, here is a short recap:

Draconiros is the dragon of dreams.

His job is to govern the dreams and nightmares of the Twelvians. People suspect he might have taken the form of Grougalorasalar while talking to Yugo.

Despite never meeting Yugo, he could have watched over the Twelvians through their dreams. This means that he might have seen Oropo's dreams, as well as Yugo's own, giving him insight into Yugo's future actions and indirectly caused consequences. If true, this theory would explain why he holds a grudge against Yugo. It currently stands as the most compelling theory among all others.

(this small segment was just something I pulled out of a post I made when chapter 1 came out)

But why am I mentioning him all of a sudden?

Because the next chapter, which is chapter 4, will come out today late at night and the cover for the chapter shows an individual we have never seen before.

No matter how much we try to distinguish who is the person underneath the hood, there’s no one we know that fits the exact figure the cover is showing. But when we take a look at the Draconiros theory, we can see so many physical similarities to Draconiros’ form.

For a better idea of what I’m talking about, here’s Draconiros’ dragon form and human form placed side by side.

And here is Draconiros in the Dofus game with the only things different about him are his clothes having different colors and patterns.

The image depicted on the cover of chapter 4 appears to be a humanoid figure. In order to gain a better understanding of Draconiros, let's focus our attention on his human form.

Upon examining the cover, it becomes apparent that the shadowed figure depicted is male, although some details remain undisclosed. We can also assume that he’s quite tall given how solid he seems. A closer look reveals that the man possesses a sturdy jaw and a broad neck. Upon comparison with Draconiros' physical features, it is evident that the two share a similar bone structure in these areas.

Based on the three main key points - the jaw, neck, and tall stature - I am absolutely confident that these two are the same person. There is no doubt in my mind that everything fits perfectly after noticing these major physical similarities. It's only makes me fully believe that Zaki was right.

But again, the reasons why I’m even bringing this all up are because 1) Chapter 4 is approaching and this figure will obviously make an entrance soon, and 2) I’m still so very confused about why Draconiros did not reveal his dragon form to Yugo.

If this is actually Draconiros, then why would he purposely show Grougalorasalar’s dragon form and not his?

No matter how good the Draconiros theory is, it doesn’t change the fact that Draconiros chose one of the primordial dragons’ forms instead of simply taking his.

Remember, he’s the dragon of dreams, he can invade a person’s mind and make up anything he wants including changing his appearance.

But why change his appearance in front of someone he loathes?

He had no problem telling Yugo TO HIS FACE that he absolutely despises him and will hunt him down. If he’s so bold with his words, why not just show himself completely to him? Because he assumed the form of Grougalorasalar, the attention was diverted from him whether this was a deliberate act or not.

I can't understand why he chose to conceal his true identity by taking the form of a dragon from the primordial era. I'm also curious why he picked Grougalorasalar, out of all the dragons available.

So because the theory has one decision that stands out as strange, the one being Draconiros choosing to take Grougalorasalar’s form instead of just using his own, it makes it difficult for me to fully accept it.

It just seems so unnecessary for him to use another dragon’s appearance for this. But then again, the only dragon, or any divinity really, capable of entering someone’s dreams like that is Draconiros.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Rain or Snow, Sleet or Shine

Rollo time? 😇 Rollo time. Now featuring 100% more Gargoyle-kun (I think he, Rollo, and the NBC mob students should all be one big happy found family to mirror Diasomnia 😌). I took a lot of writing inspiration from this collection of illustrations; please check out the artist!

IT MAKES ME MAD SAD THAT WE DON'T GET TO SEE ROLLO GROW LONG TERM LIKE THE OB BOYS DO BECAUSE HE'S JUST AN EVENT CHARACTER 🤡 SO LET ME HAVE THIS, LET MY FIRST PROPER FIC OF 2023 BE THIS.......... . . ....... .. ..... . .... . . . . .. . ....

“No matter what the weather, Flamme-kun has always diligently ascended the tower to polish the Bell of Salvation to a fine shine.”

***This fic contains massive Glorious Masquerade spoilers!!***

Imagine this…

Twelve o’clock on the dot.

Like clockwork, the familiar footsteps sounded--a soft, concise pitter-patter upon a rickety stairwell. A hatch somewhere creaked open, and a human cloaked in fluttering fabric appeared at the top of the bell tower. His fingers were carefully folded together, a diamond-cut crimson gem crowning his left middle finger.

A passing breeze raked its fingers along the strip of red that trailed out from his voluminous hat as he made his way toward a great brass bell--the crowning jewel of his school and the city. He came to a halt a foot before it and, with a respectful incline of his head, he let his words resound off of the magical tool.

“Good afternoon. Do pardon the intrusion. I have come to tend to you once again.”

“... Right on time, Flamme-kun.”

The deep, gravelly voice came from one of the many stone statues flanking the perimeter of the bell. It boasted the broad, muscular torso of a human, yet the horns, wide nose, and wings of something decidedly animalistic. Eyes the color of concrete twinkled with life.

Rollo smiled dryly at the gargoyle. “You are up early today, sir.”

“Ah, the others like to sleep late in their old age.” The gargoyle waved a hand. “Me though, I’m fit as a fiddle!”

There was a pause as the gargoyle picked out a few strands of residual bird’s nest from between his teeth. “Shouldn’t have slept with my mouth open,” he grumbled. “Those darn things set up shop wherever they please. No respect for their elders!”

“Yes.” Rollo gave a brisk nod to pair with his polite affirmation. “Then, if you will excuse me…”

He turned away, presenting his back to the gargoyle. Producing a small container of paste and a cloth, he went about his work.

Rollo had gotten the routine down by now; slathering a mixture of equal parts vinegar, salt, and flour over brass and letting it sit would eat away at the accumulated grime. He'd rinse the bell clean with soapy water and dry it with a cloth. All of this, he did by hand, using only a stepping stool to reach the crevices and the highest points.

With the bell refreshed for the day, its afternoon toll would reverberate ever clearer throughout the city. The air swelling with magic, the people roused from their rituals.

He would do the very same tomorrow, and the day after that, and the following day, and for every day until the end of time. Through rain and sleet, sleet or shine.

And then...

His hand stilled as the truth of monotony finally set in.

Then what?

Rollo’s fingers curled, sinking into the fabric of his dishcloth. His expression was a cold, slight grimace reflected back to him in the brass. Half of his face was sharp and clear, the other half clouded by his cleaning paste.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Memories tinted in crimson flared up in his head. Petals ablaze, like live embers, dancing against a midnight sky. Flowers scorched to an untimely, ashen end.

Light suddenly snuffed out.

A dream dying before his very eyes, punctuated by the solemn toll of a bell. His most heartfelt wish burning to a crisp in a dark fire. The crushing devastation and despair that followed.

Him, crumpling to his knees. A desperate cry ringing out, falling upon deaf ears and the ignorant masses.

In seeking that salvation, I failed.

Flames lit beneath Rollo’s skin. Blood became molten fire in his veins. A great storm of emotions, both highwater and hellfire, raged inside of him, fighting for dominance.

His frown deepened into a scowl, his reflection in the bell mimicking the look.

“... Flamme-kun.”

A figure emerged beside him.

“We’ve been blessed with such beautiful weather today,” the gargoyle chirped, resting a clawed hand on Rollo’s back. He indicated the sky--cerulean, lightly peppered with puffy white clouds. “Don’t you think?”

Rollo eyed the gargoyle suspiciously, not deigning to turn to properly face him. He met the images cast in the Bell of Salvation. “... What are you doing?”

“What? Can’t an old man keep you company for a while?” the gargoyle joked, digging an elbow into Rollo’s side. He didn't earn a grin.

"I can assure you that I am need of no such company. I am perfectly capable of fulfilling this task without a self-appointed assistant."

"Just as you always have. I believe you. You're a very diligent and thoughtful young man."

Eyes carved out of rock bore into Rollo. They were sturdy, resolute--and where there should have been no heart instead bled into a pool of sadness.

Rollo stiffened, as though his own flesh was turning into stone, and his veins like the ones that threaded marble. A flash fire tore through the cracks, letting hated memories slip.

A horned man with a noble visage rose from clouds of swirling, dark smoke. Everything about him was lethal, piercing. Like a demon come to claim lost souls.

The demon's lip curled, suddenly both man and monster. Emerald flames coiled at his teeth.

Rollo's stomach dropped.

"Lie, if you must. It will make it easy for you to deceive others, perhaps even deceive yourself."

Stop.

"However, you cannot fool the Bell of Salvation. You cannot run, nor hide, from the eyes which see the entire city."

Don't look at me.

"It has always been watching over you, judging your every action."

Not with those damnable eyes...!!

Rollo brought his cloth across the gargoyle's reflection, smearing him beyond recognition. Out of his sight, but not out of his mind.

“If you truly believed that, you wouldn’t shower me with such pity.” Rollo’s tone was a harsh, glacial whisper, his stare burning as cold as ice.

“Pity? No, it’s not anything like that.”

He scoffed bitterly. "As though stone could possibly understand sentiment."

"This 'stone' understands much more than you give it credit for," the gargoyle tutted. "I may not know the entire story of what happened the night fire swallowed the city--"

Rollo didn't look at him. Couldn't.

He wrested his gaze away, focusing on his view of the City of Flowers.

It was busy at this time of day, bustling with townspeople and their indistinctive chatter, which rose high above the rooftops and flying buttresses. The pointed arches, spires, and angular stained glass windows of Noble Bell appeared distinctly harsh next to the soft, welcoming homes and shops laid beside it, lined in the silver of sunlight catching in the rivers.

Delicious smells of lunchtime--baking bread, rich butter, cheeses and fruits and nuts--tempted adults and children alike to part with their coin for a morsel. The streets were vivid with flowers in full bloom, all colors and shapes, as though they, too, were delicacies to be brought to waiting lips. Tantalizing and intoxicating.

A blue sky blanketed the picturesque afternoon, the few clouds within it now stretched thin, like pieces of sugar melting upon the tongue.

Rollo cursed them. How dare they plague him.

My conscience is clear, he insisted. I've committed no sin.

"--but surely it could be sorted out? I'm happy to lend an ear, or a horn." The gargoyle tapped at his noggin. "Whatever you need."

Rollo's face hardened. "The world is cruel and wicked, full of fools that are easily tempted, gorging themselves on vice. That I was not able to correct it... Tsk. Truly, reprehensible. Yet you would have me confess to no real fault?"

He clasped himself, bracing against the wind. This high up, it reached only him, chilling him down to the bone.

He had witnessed it firsthand; how magic enticed others with its warmth, its brilliance--before spiraling, consuming everything in its path. A heavenly light turned into hellfire, a blessing revealed to be a curse.

That was the truth... Wasn't it?

“... You always do these things by your lonesome," the gargoyle said at last. "I wish you would rely on us a little more--that you would let us save you."

"Hmph. You said the very same thing that night."

"Oh?" The gargoyle perked up at that. "You remembered."

"Not fondly, mind you. Just the nonsense words of a stone statue."

"You're surprisingly blunt," the gargoyle remarked, his kindly, wizened smile still firmly in place. "But... I know you're a good boy deep down. You wouldn't dedicate yourself to looking after the Bell if you weren't. No matter what the weather, you never missed a single day.”

He raised his head, looking up at the magical artifact looming over them. The curve to its body, its dullened shine.

The sheer magnitude of it.

A twinge--fear? Guilt?--struck Rollo's soul. He hurried to brush it off.

"It is my sincerest hope that, someday, whatever is ailing you lifts away, just like the clouds parting after a storm. You'll be able to face the sun, and life will be fairer then."

Fairer...

And yet it hadn't been quite so far for him. It would never be.

He was no longer here.

“To this day, many pray and offer their desires up to the Bell of Salvation—but never did I think that I would hear a wish from a gargoyle. Your only purpose is to ward off rainwater."

"Even gargoyles can dream in the night and soak up sun in the daytime. You're capable of it too."

“The coming days will be dark and bitter. Storms are an inevitable part of life," Rollo countered icily.

"Ah, but there are more sunny days than there are stormy ones. We weather those storms to see the sun again. The Bell of Salvation shall see us through it all.”

In spite of himself, Rollo grimaced. He covered his mouth with a handkerchief. Its pattern of moons and stars quieted him, brought him temporary peace.

“The Bell…”

It sees all.

Rollo startled at the thought, like a chill had dragged itself across the coals in his heart. He hastily tucked his handkerchief away and shook his head.

I'm losing myself.

Such was the danger of being bewitched.

Magic worked like that. It had a way of promising youths their hopes and dreams, wishes and potential. Then its iron jaws would clamp shut, snagging an arm, a leg, a heart. Fresh fuel for the entangling flames.

The child caged within, calling out for help as the fire constricted, consuming him. A curtain of smoke, the smell of burning flesh.

Standing there, powerless, as the child became cinders.

It would be late to turn back time.

Visceral fear churned his stomach. Wave after wave, aligned with each haunting toll of the bells.

“Enough of this drivel," Rollo snapped. "I have a schedule to keep. I shouldn’t be wasting my lunch hour making conversation.”

"You're right," the gargoyle laughed. Perhaps a little too easily for Rollo's liking. How can he afford to be so lackadaisical? "Here I am, talking your ear off when you're hard at work. You should finish up your chores and have a hearty meal with your friends. Your vice president and aide, was it?"

His friends?

He had never thought of them in that way. Colleagues, at best.

And yet when he closed his eyes, he could so clearly picture their faces. The vice president with his wavy, tawny tresses. The aide with long, deep green locks that tumbled down his back.

Their eyes rapt and adoring as they regarded him.

"You sensed the danger and came running up the bell tower too?!"

"That's our President...! You worked with the NRC boys saved the whole city!"

"You're so amazing, sir! You always know the right thing to do. It's like you're our very own Just Judge from the legends."

"I'm so honored that you're at the helm at Noble Bell College, President Rollo--and that we have the opportunity to work with someone of your caliber!"

"We're all so proud of you."

Rollo said nothing, forcefully shunting them out of his mind.

He silently wiped at the Bell of Salvation, restoring its beautiful shine one stroke at a time. Before long, it was glistening in the midday sun, as bright as any star.

In the beginning, his muscles had ached by the time the task was complete. But the burn in his blood came no longer.

Now there was only emptiness, and the doubt that rang within it.

Rollo expelled a sigh, his hand reaching for the nearby Sally--the rope which sounded the bells. One tug with considerable strength, and familiar tolls would resound in the town.

Big bells as loud as thunder. Small bells as soft as a psalm. But the sound of the Bell of Salvation...

Cleansing.

His fingers closed around the rope.

"Say, Rollo."

He froze at his name.

The gargoyle beamed at him, clear as day, in the brass of the bell. "We can always talk some other time, whenever you're ready to. That offer's always on the table."

"... If you'll excuse me."

He tugged.

And a myriad of colors and moods, magic and sound, flooded the city. It was as though the sky had been split open, raining music upon the world, washing everything away and birthing new miracle in its place.

There was laughter from below, the atmosphere lifting with levity. Townspeople and students swelling with joy. A warm tingle of some enchantment filled their lungs took to their breath.

Look at them, Rollo sneered, his expression twisting in disgust. Practically drunk on magic, ignorant to the perils posed by their overindulgence.

His brows creased.

So many eyes that fixated on the bell that overlooked their city, entrusting it, and its magic, to pave the way forward. From up on high, they appeared like ants, they eyes mere dots. But up close, he’d seen that they were wide and sparkling, brimming with hope.

If such eyes were directed at him…

The hero and savior from the night of the crimson flowers. The man as virtuous and fair as the Just Judge.

All the things they said he was.

Am I truly deserving of that praise?

Rollo harshly clasped his hands together, his forehead creasing further. To his dismay, the swirling storm clouds of uncertainty stayed.

The tolls called out to him in their wordless song, reverberating off the rooftops. Their echoes, almost taunts.

“This is the punishment that is best suited for you, Flamme. To tell your truth, or to continue to live a lie… The decision is yours. You will suffer regardless.”

“You… You’re skilled in tormenting others, are you? I should have expected nothing less of you villains, wicked to the very core."

"Perhaps, if you were to properly glimpse into a mirror, you would come to see the wickedness within yourself, rather than that of the world."

He set his jaw firmly. His blood, boiling. His hands curled into clenched fists.

Curse him. Curse that Malleus Draconia. Curse them all, every last one of the charlatans of Night Raven College…!

Thunder rumbled, a sharp crack against the dull bells. Dampness—the aroma of ozone—hit his nose.

A plip of rain coloring the ground at his feet with a spot of darkness.

This is...

Rollo stared into the sky.

It had noticeably darkened, and the clouds had come back with reinforcements, looming menacingly in the distance. A chill picked up, and the sun wavered.

What…? It was so clear not a moment ago. He shivered, wrapping himself up in the excessive cloth of his uniform. Such a sudden storm. I’d best get back inside before I’m caught in it.

Rollo hurried to the stairwell, casting a glance at the gargoyles as he passed. The one that had spoken to him had wedged himself back among the others, safe and comfortable among friends. He snagged in Rollo's sight and waved.

“Until tomorrow.”

"... Until then.”

The door closed, obscuring Rollo behind it.

The cold and the wind and the dreary light were shut out. The wooden floorboards groaned in protest as he slipped inside. Away from the elements, and, more importantly, away from prying eyes.

Yet he felt the heat of them upon his back and crawling across his skin. Someone, something watching him in that dimly lit room.

From beyond the windows? Or…

From within?

He jerked away from the sunlight trickling in. Gaze averted, he focused his eyes on the creaking, worn stairs as he descended.

The walls were suffocating, squeezing him tight. The air, too thin.

There, in that rickety and narrow little space, he was trapped between heaven above and the waiting hell below.

Denied his sun and salvation, unable to escape from the tempest raging within himself.

[askvectorprime]

Hi vector prime! I have a question which I’ve been dying to know, how do transformers age? I’m asking this because some transformers look like old men, for example, revenge of the fallen jetfire has a cane and a beard and alpha trion also has a beard and some transformers look like kids too, for example, wheelie and those kids that were shown on the planet that unicron gobbled up. I hope there is an answer to this transformers age thing, thanks vector.

Dear Mature Matcher,

Well, I like to think I've aged gracefully, ha!

In truth, you ask a good question, though I think your lived experience as a human has colored your perspective. We do not age as humans do, but our bodies are still subject to wear and tear. Our fuel lines erode and leak, our gears grind and slip, our belts become brittle, our joints seize. We discolor, our paint scratches off, decals peel free, chrome flakes away. Stress marks line our faces and hinges. We rust. Our minds are prone to different kinds of degeneration, as newer memories overwrite older ones, or as unhealthy feedback loops develop into rampancy. But few of these processes are fatal, and fewer still are irreversible, so long as we take the occasional tune-up to replace parts as they fail.

The physical traits you observe aren't directly tied to the process of aging. With the usual caveat that not all Transformers are the same, even within the a single universe… it tends to be that, once we are protoformed or built, the only time our bodies naturally change is when we take on a new form. Now, you may not realize this, as we still must appear very alien to you—but on Earth, this might involve changing our appearance in robot form, too, mimicking physical traits that we identify with, the better to be understood by your kind; this is sometimes called "humanizer" technology. Don't be too quick to judge based on appearance, though, as sometimes what you perceive as a mustache might simply be a coincidental arrangement of kibble!

Otherwise, our bodies only change in the course of upgrades. After choosing our first alt-form, we may undergo procedures to bring us up to "full size", speaking either culturally or biologically. There are universes where our sparks grow continuously through our lifetimes, demanding periodic upgrades to match, with the bodies of the biggest and oldest Transformers practically being extensions of the planet—but those are extreme cases, and it's usually not a necessity. You mention Wheelie, who had something of an arrested development while marooned on Quintessa, and although there exist divergent timelines where he did get a larger body, he's usually comfortable with his stature; many Transformers take pride in being "Minibots" and may even make the conscious decision to downsize.

In the modern age, there is certainly an association between youth and a diminutive frame, as Micromasters, Mini-Cons and Protoformers join our society. The fact is that Transformers nowadays are smaller than they used to be, because fuel is more scarce. There have been many such paradigm shifts in the construction of Transformers: generations are usually demarcated by broad design trends, major technological advancements, and shared aesthetic sensibilities. When it comes to these fashions, there are some classics that anyone can recognise—facial adornments, oversized chins, and non-visible olfactory sensors are all characteristic of different points in history, and give a clue for how old we might be. You know, the oldest Transformers predate the introduction of the ball-and-socket joints which are so ubiquitous in Earth life; I myself have not one in my body!

The multiverse being as strange and wondrous as it is, there are plenty more esoteric reasons behind these physical changes. Famously, the Matrix of Leadership is known to induce a metamorphosis in its bearers to better accommodate the collective wisdom of Primes past. Exotic kinds of Energon have been known to possess transformative properties. For reasons yet unknown to my Transtech friends, exposure to negative-polarity particles correlates strongly with facial structures resembling human goatees.

Some believe that we once lived mortal lives, aging as most other species throughout the galaxy do, only for that mortality to have been taken from us in our race's infancy—through the interference of Quintessons, or the defeat of Mortilus, spoken of in myth as death incarnate.

[weministertomonsters]

The Easter Bunny 1 - Werecat

"Do I look like an Easter bunny to you?" Max growls, flicking his tail in agitation.

It thunks against the leg of the kitchen table and he winces. "And I hate this costume. It looks stupid."

"Actually, you look adorable," you correct, reaching over to fix the headband of the droopy rabbit ears.

His own ears flick backwards but he endures your meddling.

"I regret coming here," he announces, picking up the basket full of chocolate eggs that looks tiny in his paws.

"Come on, Macy will be so happy! She always wanted a Easter-egg themed birthday party," you say. "Afterwards we can hang out and maybe watch a movie and eat the leftover chocolate."

"If Macy leaves anything for us, that is. My niece has a monster sweet tooth."

You almost laugh because an angry werecat with a bunny ear headband and a colorful onesie is too funny to take seriously. He bares his teeth at you.

"I could eat you, human."

"Save it for when we're alone," you smirk.

His eyes widen. "Are you saying-"

"You two ready?" Macy's mother, Sophia, comes bustling in with a stack of empty cake plates. A half melted number 4 candle lies on the top. "Macy wants to do the egg hunt now."

Max rolls his eyes. "We were in the middle of something."

"No, actually we were just about ready," you say sweetly. "The Easter bunny and his human helper."

You pat Max on one of his broad shoulders.

"Thanks for helping out! Macy has been so happy today... She hasn't even asked for her father once," Sophia says quietly.

"Good. She should forget about him," Max declares.

As an afterthought he adds, "you should too."

You drag him out of the kitchen before he can make the damage worse.

"That was a really insensitive thing to say," you scold once you're in the backyard, taking a bunch of the bite-sized foil wrapped eggs and using your shirt to hold them.

Max glances at your exposed midriff then looks away quickly.

"Maybe but it's true. That man did nothing right. Couldn't take care of the kid and couldn't even fuck his wife right." Max wanders away from you, tucking eggs just out of sight for Macy and her friends to find.

You sputter at that and it sounds like he's smiling when he says, "Sophia used to rant about it whenever she got drunk. Embarrassed him multiple times."

"Fair point but go easy on your sister, okay? He wasn't the best husband but they were together for five years."

Max goes quiet. After a moment he says, "By the way, remember we're a part of their egg hunt. Whoever finds us gets an extra prize."

"I almost forgot!" You reply. "I doubt we're small enough to hide behind the playhouse and go unnoticed. We can't even fit inside that thing. Or maybe the bushes beside the flowerbed-"

You hear a babble of children's voices coming around the house. Sophia must have assumed you were done and given them the go-ahead to start hunting.

"Uh-oh." You meet Max's eyes.

"The garden shed!" He says, darting towards it.

The backyard is pretty big and you're afraid the kids will spot you before you get to cover but you slip into the garden shed just in time, closing the door enough so that it only lets a sliver of light in.

There's one window but it's covered in a layer of grime that barely allows the sunlight to come in. You turn, ogling the dim interior of the garden shed.

"Figures, your clean-freak sister has the messiest shed I've ever seen!" You murmur quietly.

Max lets out a muffled laugh. "This shit belonged to the ex-husband. She either hasn't got the courage or time to clean it out just yet."

"Hey! Don't remove the costume!" You try to keep your voice down because the kids are running all over the backyard finding the eggs.

The garden shed is in the corner though. It might take awhile before they find you.

"Did you think I was going to wear it for long? It's hot and scratchy and horrible." He yanks it off his legs and as he bends to do so the headband goes flying into the darkness.

"Don't lose them! Those are one of Macy's favorites!" You hiss, stumbling over an empty sack of fertilizer and reaching for the ears which have fallen in the corner. "And you really shouldn't be taking that off. You're kind of naked now."

"And you're the only one who cares," he retorts. "Werecats often go around in nothing but our own fur."

"It's still inappropriate," you mumble, keeping your eyes averted.

He says nothing for a long moment.

"Does it bother you that much? Do you hate seeing me like this?" He finally says and you jerk your head up in surprise at the hurt you hear in his voice.

"Am I that freakish and different-"

"No!" You bark and then lower your voice. "No, it's not that."

"Then what? The time we went swimming with our friends you could barely look in my direction."

"Y-you've misunderstood. You know that's not what I think. I'm okay with everyone and everything. Human or not. That's really not an issue. It's just..."

"What?" He prods.

"You're really hot. And every time I see you like that I just want to run my hands through your fur... But I thought it would be too weird to ask to do that. I know physical contact is taken really seriously with your kind..." You purse your lips together and look at the ground. "I was afraid you'd think I was a weirdo."

"Seriously?" He says, breathing out in what sounds like relief. "That's awesome. I thought you hated me."

"No! Why would you even think that," you pout. "We've been friends for ages."

"All you had to do was ask," Max says. "Do you..."

"Can I?" You burst out and then shrink in embarrassment. "I mean, were you going to say I could touch you?"

"Go ahead," he replies.

You shuffle closer, side-stepping a clunky lawn mower. The lack of light makes it rather hard to see as you reach your hand out. Your fingers touch his fur and you jerk your hand back.

"Sorry, that kind of startled me," you laugh sheepishly before you reach forward with more confidence.

His fur is thick and incredibly soft like a plush pillow. You forget that you're touching your friend as you delight in the silky feeling. Until you find a small fur-less patch. Then a couple inches lower, another. And another.

A giggle builds in your throat.

"Maxwell Quinn, are those nipples?" You whisper. "Six of them?"

"Uh, yeah. They, uh, are just for aesthetics," he says nervously, shifting his weight. "Does that weird you out?"

"I love it, they must be so sensitive," you babble. "Six of them! That's really cool."

"If you say so," he mumbles, swaying.

"Are you purring?" You demand, detecting the soft sound.

He stops immediately. "No. I wasn't."

"I bet you were. Do it again?" You plead. "It sounds so comforting."

You lean forward and playfully place your ear to his chest.

"I'm waiting," you chirp.

His fingers slide through your hair suddenly. "What you said back in the kitchen about being alone..."

The air grows thick with something that makes your heart begin to beat faster. You look up into his eyes, which are glowing slightly.

"I-"

Suddenly, the garden shed door flies off its hinges, missing you by an inch as it falls. A bunch of werekittens crowd into the doorway. You take a step back from Max, clearing your throat.

Macy, covered in smears of chocolate, laughs and claps.

"We found you!" She squeals.

Max growls a curse under his breath and you nudge him.

"Later," you stand on your tiptoes to whisper into his ear before the kittens drag you away for their prize.

[silverskye13]

Hey, do you have any art tips that you use or anything? Any advice?

Uhhh that's kind of a broad question! My art advice is mostly situational.

A few very very broad suggestions for you:

Use references. Your brain can only hold so much, and most images we stick in our head are symbols. Aside from a select few very impressive people, no one can photographically remember, say, a tree. You can remember a symbol of a tree [Brown and red and green, in a specific shape], but you're not going to remember off the top of your head how tall an ash tree is relative to its surroundings, how all the leaves look from a distance, etc. So, use references. This includes references for things like poses, or colors, or art styles. I've gotten in the habit of collecting things I think are aesthetically pleasing for exactly that reason.

Draw from observation or life, as practice. Kind of an extension of above, but even if you don't draw realistically, you can learn a lot about stylizing, say, a bottle, by staring at the bottle and drawing it. Same with landscapes and buildings and animals and people. Different lighting and their affects on color and things. Its a great way to learn what looks realistic, in terms of relativity -- figuring out where shadows fall, how cloth lays, that funny shape your arm makes when its pointing straight on. Another interesting twist on this is making copies of artworks you like. Pick up the prettiest watercolor you've ever seen, sit down and try to make it. You won't come close, but you'll learn a lot about what that artist thought was important. Draw This In Your Own Style memes are also good for this.

Use tracing and replication for what they're made for: building skills. They're very good tools for teaching yourself how to take things apart and put them back together again, which is how we as humans tend to learn best. You learn how to do math by learning 2+2, and then you figure out 22+22 is basically the same thing, but when you were 5 learning to count in preschool, they didn't start you out with the 22 bit, did they? Same goes for art. All those "How To Draw X" books start you out with "First a circle then some lines" for a reason. If you can break up the big bit into tiny bits, you can figure out how to build stuff from scratch. Tracing and copying art styles, coloring styles, and poses can go a long way to teaching you how to break up all those things into digestible shapes.

Draw often. There's some saying somewhere that you need to put a thousand hours into something to advance a level. So, 1000hrs to go from "I know nothing" to "Beginner." 1000hrs from Beginner into Novice. Etc. It's not a literal rule. I'm sure I've put a few thousand hours into art, but I wouldn't call myself an expert yet. But art is a muscle as much as it is a skill. You only learn how to draw a straight line by drawing 50 wiggly lines and then miraculously one of them is straight, and you feel how that line felt in your wrist and you try to make it feel that way again. You make a really nice texture by accident once and you try it again 100 times before you can consistently remember its by crosshatching there and erasing over there. A long time ago I used to swear by comics [the largest leap forward I ever made in art was when I sat down for a year and drew a comic when I was, like, 13. It had a couple hundred pages, and rapidly progressed from "I'm basically tracing deviantart wolves every pose because I can't see them in my head" to "I can pose these little guys on my own and they actually kind of look like who they're supposed to look every time!"

Uhm... smaller advice tidbits.

Play with as many mediums and art supplies you can get your hands on! Thats how you figure out what you like, and also you draw wildly differently with a brush than a pen. Its really fun to see those differences and integrate them into other things.

If you're working digitally, experiment with merging layers and drawing over them. If you're insecure about it, copy the whole thing into a new document and draw over top of it. It's really fun, lends to experimentation, and there's a lot of effects you just can't achieve by fiddling with your layers.

If you drop your pencils, you will break the lead on the inside. That's why sometimes you sharpen a pencil and it just keeps breaking until there's no pencil left. This happens especially often with colored pencils, because the lead is super soft. Protect your pencils with your life.

For every "pretty sketchbook" you keep around, keep beside it some shitty copy paper/lined paper book with a ballpoint pen. Its good for warm ups, and for getting over the anxiety of "but I don't wanna ruin my pretty sketchbook" :( anxieties

Keep a bottle of water in your art space. This is good for drinking, for spilling on things, and for reminding you you are human and have needs. I recommend one with a cap if you do watercolors, so its less likely you'll dip your rush in it.

Get in the habit of resting every hour. If you have tendonitis [like me] rest every half hour. Set a timer if you have to. This keeps your wrist from exploding, and it keeps you from randomly picking up objects three days from now and wondering why your hand just decided it didn't want to anymore.

Don't feel pressured to post everything you make online -- in fact, keep from that habit as long as you can. The little seratonin rush is very nice when people comment on your work, but if you rely on it to motivate you, you will stop working on things. I have pieces that live in a vacuum, that no one will probably ever see. Most of them art shit, some of them aren't. The fact that no one can see them and tell me they're pretty is good and healthy, actually.

Don't destroy your work. When you finish a long project, there will be a little demon in the back of your head that whispers "I have never hated anything so much as this. Burn it. Kill it. Punish it for existing. I hate it." Do not listen to that little demon. It has been starved of all your existential angst while you were Stuck In Creation, and it is hangry. Put your art away somewhere, wait a few days, a week, a few months even, if you have to. Eventually the little demon will get involved with something else, and you will look at your art and go "Oh, hey, that's not so bad actually" :)

If you wait a year and you still think its shit, objectively, it might be, but I still maintain its demon is probably just being stubborn.

[dailycharacteroption]

Races Among the Stars 8: Giant

Something that’s been coming ever since we first got entries for what giants have been up to in the far future of Starfinder, Ports of Call granted us a playable giant option!

More specifically, an option to play as many of the various large-size giant subspecies, so sadly no playable cloud or storm giants and the like, not without homebrewing, anyway.

While advances culturally and technologically have made sure that even hill giants have access to education to leave behind Pathfinder-era assumptions behind, giant culture as a whole is steeped in tradition and history, hailing back to their descent from the gigas, who in turn descended from the titans.

In this far-future era, their love of tradition and heritage means they spend much time honoring and preserving those traditions even with the modern amenities and advances all around them.

While giants are all large humanoids that seem very human-like, this does not truly encapsulate their appearance, especially since many have ties to the elements. Additionally, their proportions are oftentimes somewhat off from the human norm, rather than just being “resized human”

Hill giants are the most human-like in appearance, albeit favoring broad features and bodies. Meanwhile, fire giants sport red skin and vibrant hair that makes them seem to have flaming scalps and and/or beards at first glance. Meanwhile, stone giants tend to be lean with stony skin and irregularly or angular craniums that make their bald forms seem to be made of unworked stone. Slag giants, on the other hand, as hybrids of fire and stone giants, tend to have rust-colored skin and sturdy yet lean frames.

While fully capable of wearing modern armors and clothing sized for them, those living a civilian’s life on their claimed homeworld of Pholskar tend to wear outfits that draw upon the heritage of their ancestors, but with modern upgrades. A hill giant may still wear furs, but they are expertly tailored and symmetrical with under layers of modern fabrics, while the brass accents of a fire giant’s kilt hide modern alloys as well.

Giant society as a whole varies by various species, but all are defined by their love of their history and their pride. However, when you are most well-known for your strength, it becomes a mighty temptation for even the most supposedly civilized giants to not use their might, be it physical or political, to get one’s way, especially as evidenced by the Cloud Imperium, one of the major ruling bodies of Pholskar. That being said, there are plenty that see the tyranny of their kin and reject it, choosing to use their strength for the good of others, giant and otherwise, but change comes slow to these beings.

Giants are strong and tough, but their size makes them a bit ungainly.

They do, however, has a instinctive knack for picking up heavy objects and turning them into impromptu projectiles, which only grow in lethality as they master themselves.

They also possess a knack for both building things, as well as looming over others intimidatingly.

Where things get really interesting is the abilities granted by different subspecies. Fire giants are naturally resistant to flame and train with armor to move in it easier, while hill giants have a long tradition of wrestling and throwing their weight around that they put to good use. Slag giants are also resistant to flame, but their history as crafters gives them a knack for recognizing and exploiting the stress points of objects. Finally, stone giants have even better night sight, and their thrown objects hit just a bit harder.

Their strength and toughness makes giants an easy pick for pretty much any melee or tanking class, from melee soldiers, evolutionists, nanocytes, vanguards, and even melee solarions. Meanwhile, social and casting classes tend to be fairly neutral for them, though biohackers, mechanics and technomancers have their roles with their love of crafting, while mystic and witchwarper have their connections to the traditions of giant-kind. Their biggest weakness is the penalty to dexterity and size making most types of operatives, as well as most ranged builds somewhat difficult, but it’s not impossible to get around, especially when the heavyweight skirmisher gives you an option to play a strength-based operative anyway.

And that’s that. Giants are a fascinating addition to the playable options, and obviously the list of types of playable giants has been pared down a bit to save space, but there are plenty of Large-sized giants out there to adapt and play as, such as frost giants, though Huge and larger are still probably out of the picture due to the difficulties and power that they grant.

[krethes]

Snippet Tag!

This is a sneak peek at Chapter 8 of Neon Moon. Writing this section was something I went back and forth on, because unlike most of what I write: I've introduced some characters that are directly from my life. See if you can guess who. (It's not hard.)

An enormous dog stood amid the grazing cattle, occasionally looking around but ignoring the horses and their humans. "Wait! Whose dog is that?" Sirius was pretty sure he'd never seen that one before. The ones he'd seen were small, sleek things: fast and agile. The dog there was big: tall and broad, with thick sable fur, a mane-like ruff, and a tail that curled over his back.  "Oh him?" Remus smiled. "That's Carrot. He's one of ours. But he's a livestock guardian so he doesn't really do the house dog life like this pampered girl," he explained with a nod at Marea, still balanced comfortably on the rolled up blanket behind Az's saddle.  "Guardian? What's he guarding against?" Mary asked, looking around for any apparent danger. "Bears?" "Well, yeah, actually." "Wait, what-" "Let him finish, Mary!" Lily chided.  Remus just shrugged. "There are bears and mountain lions and cougars out here, plus some coyotes and there's been some wolf sightings lately. Haven't seen any myself and they're mainly up in Tahoe, but urban sprawl has 'em coming down this way more and more." Sirius looked back out at the dog, who finally looked at them, and when he locked eyes with Remus, he wagged his tail and slowly ambled up to their little band. "Can I pet him?" Remus laughed. "He's prob'ly gross as hell, but have at it. He doesn't do any tricks, though. When he's not havin' to make his own decisions out here, he gives all his braincells to his brother Vimes, who should be around here- ah. There he is." Sirius turned to Flo's squeal, where a slightly smaller dog the same color as Carrot was nosing around at her horse's side bag, where Sirius knew the oat cakes were kept.  "Ay, gordo, basta ya!" Remus scolded. The other dog—Vimes—took several steps back, his ears splayed out to the side, and ambled away with one final longing look at the bag. "Sorry 'bout him. He's a fatass. …Affectionately, I guess." Remus rolled his eyes, but hopped off of Az to give both dogs a scratch behind the ears when they came back up to him.   Vimes didn't seem to want anything to do with them now that treats were off the table, but Carrot's tail gave a slow, lazy wag as he submitted to Sirius's petting. His head was soft and a little droopy—from a copperhead snake bite, Remus said—and he was pretty manky, but Sirius wiped the dog grime off on his jeans in a very brave show of manliness.

Some context below the cut. C/W: pet loss

Carrot & Vimes were the first dogs my now-husband and I adopted as a couple together, back in 2013. We went in with the intention to adopt ONLY Carrot (then called Pecan) but when we saw him running around with his littermate Vimes (then called Mesquite), and ignoring their 4 sisters, we couldn't say no. It was a dumb idea because lol littermate syndrome and lol college schedules, but we loved the hell out of these dogs.

Before we'd gotten them, Carrot had been bitten TWICE by a copperhead in the face (didn't learn the first time I guess), they'd had sarcoptic mange, and had been skunked twice and put under two rabies quarantines. Carrot's face was always a little droopy.

He was my heart dog. Stupid as fuck, good god...not an intelligent thought in there, but he was a loving, protective, wall of a dog at 110 pounds and nearly 3 feet at the shoulder. A DNA test said they were Great Pyrenees, Newfoundland, White Swiss Shepherd, and a whole lotta "we dunno, mixed breed", and Carrot looked just like a Pyr who had been dipped in some German Shepherd paint.

He passed away last August, right around the time I was writing Chapter 1 of Neon Moon. He was nearly 10, so definitely a senior citizen for a giant breed, and I still miss the hell out of him. Vimes is still alive and kickin', diabetes and blindness be damned, lol.

In the photo, Carrot is on the left and his grumpy brother Vimes on the right.

It feels apt to say that those who love us never really leave us, and I hope that by sharing a little bit of this dog with y'all, he can continue to be remembered in the hearts of my readers.

[script-a-world]

Submitted via Google Form:

I am creating a world where there have been interracial marriages since like they met and it's been thousands of years since. It's a very interconnected world now with basically no racial purity (is there a better way to say that? because that seems rooted in racist vocabulary and my world is the opposite). The only people who do not mingle are those akin to the uncontacted tribes in real life. Mainly, I'm trying to figure out how to figure out what people look like - there's only so few people out that are very mixed race, there's too many that are mixed but only specific mixes like White/Black, White/Asian, White/Hispanic. No..now, this isn't taking place on Earth but they are still human and I'm only able to come at it with how real actual people look like. No, bascially all of my world will be people who look White/Black/indigenous American/indigenous Pacific Islander/indigenous Asian/East Asian/South Asian/Hispanic/etc... Everything gets mingled, churned up in the gene pool and spit out. I'm not sure how to go from there. There are so so few actual examples that are very mixed. Also, I'm not at all an expert at looking at faces so yeah.. a lot of times I'm not even sure what I'm looking at in a racial trait. Hell, there are real life instances of let's say, looking at a Chinese and Japanese side by side, someone can tell them apart and where the differences. I still have no idea what they're looking at. Hell even someone actually Chinese couldn't tell what the differences were. Of course, I don't need to get very specific in details at all, but I have to have some sort of description that isn't well a lazy description that says nothing.

Feral: So, this ask gives me the idea that you were raised in a pretty racist culture (I can relate) and are trying really hard to leave that behind. And I want to encourage you to push into real education. Intention is not enough when it comes to shedding what we were taught, often subliminally, and consciously relearning - and that doesn’t feel good the way the color-blind approach many nascent liberals tend towards does.

It seems like you’re still caught in certain patterns of thinking, especially in the idea that eliminating racial distinction and sublimating and homogenizing is anti-racist when it’s actually kinda colonialism in a fancy new hat. And the “races” in your ask - a mixture of racial identities, ethnic identities, and very broad geopolitical groups - already have a huge genetic diversity within them and in several cases do in fact already overlap with each other.

There’s also a misunderstanding of how physical traits are genetically passed. They aren’t amalgamated like mixing blue paint and red paint and creating purple paint. Skin color, hair color, hair texture, and face and facial feature shapes and sizes don’t just meet in the middle between what the two parents have - and keep in mind that this kind of thinking is usually only applied when thinking about the children of a racially-mixed couple and not of say a white parent of Italian descent and a white parent of Scandinavian descent. 

 And there are traits that can seem to disappear from a family line only to pop up generations later. A more diverse gene pool will not produce a population of individuals indistinguishable from one another; there will be even more diversity of physical traits - specifically traits that we’re not accustomed to seeing together in our more racially segregated world.

Utuabzu: Something you should seriously consider is the background of your world. Is this the planet humans (or equivalent species, but let's just assume you're asking about humans) evolved on or is it a colony? Because if it's the former then it's pretty unlikely that you could homogenise the entire global population without some sort of catastrophic bottleneck event, something that reduces the global population to a small number in a single location that then recolonises the planet. Because the reality is that most people don't want to leave their communities of birth, not permanently anyway. People like to live in the place they consider home, and to live in a culture they understand, and absent a significant push or pull factor they will want to stay roughly within their home environment. This is part of why you don't generally see mass migration between countries with equivalent levels of economic development and political/social stability.

Given that, it's pretty hard to see how you could get enough migration around the world for long enough to homogenise the gene pool. There's probably always going to be general regional trends. There's also what Feral said about how genetics works. Appearance isn't just controlled by one or two genes. It's controlled by a huge array of genes that we still don't entirely understand, and many genes impact multiple seemingly unconnected things. A good example of this is that the gene for red hair also produces pale skin, because it prevents the production of eumelanin (the black pigment) while allowing the production of pheomelanin (the orangy-brown one). This is also why red haired people freckle - freckles are made with pheomelanin - and don't tan - tanning uses eumelanin.

Now, if you aren't writing about the home planet, you could have a fairly homogenous population due to something called the founder effect. Basically, because when a new population is established the genepool is limited, the traits of the founding individuals can have an outsized impact on the later genepool, with normally recessive genes spreading to enough individuals that the trait they code for becomes extremely common. So long as the population is predominantly composed of descendants of these founders, this effect is likely to remain active - so, so long as there isn't mass immigration that outnumbers the people born in the colony to at least one parent descended from the founders. This is easily enough accomplished by having the colony be really far away, and thus having an unreasonably long travel time for most people. If it takes many years to get there, few people would be willing to abandon their whole lives to migrate to a place they've never been.

A final thing to consider is that race is not and has never been a genetic or biological category. It's a social one. It can be correlated with certain physical traits, but it doesn't necessarily need to be, and in many parts of the world the salient 'racial' categories share most phenotypic traits. In others 'race' isn't particularly correlated with phenotype at all, and is instead primarily about culture or even religion. And not every society even has a concept of 'race'. You can simply not mention it, and instead have characters with a range of phenotypic features that nobody ever comments on, and it can be assumed that 'race' is not a relevant concept in that culture.

[mr-humphries]

Alan looked around at the dancing humans in different arrays colored dresses and suits. It was Eric’s idea to ‘crash a ball’ after another successful collection. Alan was never much of a social butterfly, so while his elder had went to get some brandy and wine, Alan stayed clustered to a corner and out of the sight of humans, as all exemplary Shinigami were meant to do. He began to get lost in his thoughts when he saw a large-yet familiar-gloved hand come into his field of vision. 

The small Reaper followed the hand, up a well muscled black sleeved arm, honed to carry and fight with a scythe designed as a saw.. He continued up to the comfortable sight of a broad shoulder that had held Alan on it many times when the person attached to it would throw Alan over it. Then it was the shaggy, wild lion’s mane blonde hair.. had wouldn’t lie when he’d admit he thought of running his hands through it, His beloved mentor loved head scratches to help him sleep.. Alan looked to see a goofy, charming signature smirk and amusement dancing in green eyes as Eric noticed him giving the Scotsman a (very) slow once over.

“Car’ t’ danc’, Al?” Came the laughing but gentle tone as Eric kept his hand held out, his other hand nursing a crystal glass of whiskey, the finest and most expensive, no doubt. Alan’s cheeks heated to a cherry red color

“You know very well I don't dance, Eric..” He answered softly.

“Don’ ‘cause ya can’, ‘r won’?” He flashed a mischievous grin at his junior.

“I don’t,” Alan replied curtly, then softly added “And can’t..”

A softer expression crossed Eric’s face as he ‘tsk tsk’ed’ and took Alan’s hand, setting down his still untouched whiskey-some things were more important-and led Alan into the throng of dancers. 

Too late to Argue or fight his ever enthusiastic and persistent mentor, Alan gave in and couldn’t help but smile shyly as Eric pulled him around so they were face to face. The elder’s hand found his waist and pulled him close, making the smaller male’s body feel warm.

“Eric… what are you doing?” :Alan asked, his voice was full of embarrassment, shrinking unconsciously closer to his stronger mentor to get away from the crowded dance floor.

“Te’chin’ ya t’ danc’, Al… no’s a gud a tim’ as any.. jus’ follow me n’ y’u’ll b’ fin’..” :When the music began again, Eric took a step, making Alan stumble with him. The scotsman chuckled softly. “Yur fin’, le’s try again..” Another step, and Alan followed more gracefully. Eric grinned, “Aye, ther’ ya ar’, lad… we’l make a natural of ya, yet.” He lead, and Alan dutifully followed, just as he always did. He couldn’t help but watch Eric through the dance, lost in his looks and the concentration on the elder reaper’s face. He looked handsome, just as he always did, but…now.. there was something Alan couldn’t quite put his finger on. Maybe it was the casual confidence Eric had rolling off of him, or the graceful steps he lead Alan in.. but.. it made Alan’s heart flutter in his chest..the whole world was gone around them, it was only the two of them in the entire ballroom.. it always had been just the two of them.

“Yur starin’ again, luv..” He heard Eric mumble softly. Alan gave a sharp shake of his head before he looked up to see that they had stopped dancing, and the floor was beginning to clear.

“O-oh… I apologize, I was far away..” Alan was quick to mumble apologies as he went to step back, but Eric’s hand didn’t move, keep Alan planted firmly in front of him, against him:

“I dunnae say ‘t’w’s a bad thin’…” They stayed staring at one another for a good while, another song and dance had whirled to life around them. But two dancers stayed locked in another dance, one they had been dancing for years.. Alan was the first to pull away again, letting out a soft laugh.

“We should go.. we don’t want overtime, do we?”

“Al..”

“I mean, I know how much you..”

“Al..”

“..hate the overtime-“

“-Alan!” Came Eric’s sharp cut off voice, it was louder than he had meant it, but Alan had stopped rambling. “I dunnae car’ about the bloody overtime’… i care’ ‘bout yu’u, Alan.. i always ‘ave.. we’ve been doin’ our own dance around each other fur quite som’ tim’…”

“Eric..”

“Hush ‘n listen t’ yur elders..” :Eric sighed and moved a strand of soft brown hair from Alan’s face, moving to cup his cheek: “i love ya, Al..m’ flow’r.. m’ light in m’ dark dark world’.'i've been a coward until now t’ tell ya.. but better late than ne’er, Aye..?”

A small smile crept over the junior’s face. His arms wrapping as best they could around Eric’s neck, he stood on his tip toes and kissed his best friend and mentor with every ounce of love he could muster..when Eric kissed him back, Alan smiled, what a perfect way to crash a ball. 

SJFHSJD THATS ADORABLE OMG

I'm g

I'm gonna draw this when I don't have commissions 👁👁

I NEED SILLY GENTLEMEN, THANK YOU FOR THIS BOUNTIFUL HARVEST, PLS POST ON AO3 OP ILY AND I WILL DIE FOR U FR

[savpumpkinhead]

oh my gosh okay. so I saw barbenhiemer a few days ago and i habe just been sitting in my thoughts and I have so many things to say. THIS HAS SPOILERS FOR BOTH!!!

i saw Oppenheimer first so:

the cinematography was gorgeous. this movie was absolutely stunning. not only were the colors and shots beautiful, but I adored the black-and-white shots used for Strauss' perspective (which reminded me of asteroids city's use of b&w for perspective/setting changes!!!).

Florence pugh. oh my goodness. she was BEAUTIFUL I kept turning to my friend and saying oh my god she's gorgeous. I loved her acting, she embodied her character spectacularly. (also she so me for flirting with Cillian a bit during an interview)

CILLIAN MURPHY !!!! i adore him and I went into this very excited because I adore the dark knight and he was spectacular in that. anyways I loved his acting and how he delivered his lines, he added so much to the story. for such a long movie I loved his whole performance, and im super excited to watch it again (can u tell I love cillian murphy)

I understand it was a biopic so they were focusing more on the man himself and not the situation, but my friend who i went with actually googled the movie while we went to dinner- and found that the bomb test they showed had actually hit both Mexican and Indigenous people that were living in/near Los Alamos (mostly with radiation and fallout), which if we can find in one google search, is kinda weird we didn't see it in the movie at all. anyways I went to piss in the middle of the movie (Ik i should have peed before but WHATEVER anyways) when i got back they had already bombed both cities?? i was so surprised i had missed it, they didn't cover it much after that until around the end when the moral quandary is brought up more. anyways im seeing it again so ill definitely pay attention to these details!!

COSTUMING!!!! the costumes were beautiful, I adore the fashion of this era so it makes lots of sense but it was spectacular. my friend and I who both do makeup for theatre were caught off guard by the aging at the end as well, spectacular!!!

some of the dialogue was hard to follow and some moments definitely got a little complicated for me, but I definitely enjoyed the movie overall. Im going to go see it again soon at a theatre near me which is showing it with actual film!!! im very excited

I have a friend in film whod probably look at me like I was crazy for these reviews but that's okay cause I <3 him and I might get to see it with him soon :3

BARBIE:

god i adored this movie. ive seen twice and I've cried very much in that goddamn theatre. its a wonderful message about womanhood and girlhood and also just being human.

did you know all of kens clothes fit him.....

the movie itself was wonderful, the cinematography was nice and I saw some really beautifully framed shots!! the color scheme was spectacular aswell, I adore greta girwig for sure. not to mention the costuming, makeup, set design, the whole movie's tech was just spectacular I have no complaints for real.

this movie is very "first I laughed, then I serioused", the beginning was lots of giggles for me, I love the characters and all the references, it felt very nostalgic to see all the things I loved as a kid come up on the screen.

the feminist takes were very refreshing to see! I've seen many people comment on them being very broad and vague, and I agree some things like fatphobia and racism could have gone a bit deeper, but for what it was I was so happy. i felt my girlhood was really seen and I felt like I had a weight of my chest a lot of the time. thought its hard to separate many social movements from each other, this was a pretty good job

speaking of fatphobia I do wish that there was more fat representation, there was one main plus size Barbie and maybe one or two chubbier ones, but it would have been cool to see more of a body type range. its hard to ask for more because there already is SO MUCH diversity but I noticed a lot that the bigger ken was paired with the bigger barbie and that kinda thing, so I just wanted to mention that. i really do appreciate it though, and I love what Gerwig has given us.

did you know that all of kens clothes fit him.

allen is definitely non binary coded, I lack the words to properly explain this but I've seen many people bring it up!! there's also some more trans allegory I connected too throughout the movie, and I really enjoyed the healthy masculinity that came from some of the movie :3

everyone's gay and ND!!!!!!!!! margot robbies barbie is definitely aroace lesbian and maybe autistic and allen is nonbinary and queer and ken is probably transgender and adhd and he's just like me fr so on so fourth they are all queer. thank you :)

[reborrowing]

I hate ai in creative spaces naturally but it's also so demoralizing to know that that's the only use people generally know of and base their opinion on

like

it has massive potential in the world of augmentative communication. the only way to process natural human speech at human speed is if there is some idea of what's coming next and what muffled or otherwise degraded speech signals should have been. (this is a big part why a second language sounds "too fast" to learners btw, when we listen to speech we jump ahead, prime activation of words we expect to come next, fill in obscured sounds, and adjust as needed. a learner doesn't have enough context to do this) machine learning is the only real method we have to get computers to do this and it must have a broad set of data to train on or else it will be easily tripped up by slang, jargon, accents, and other nonstandard language. This is why auto-generated captions have only come anywhere close to decent transcriptions fairly recently. They use AI.

additionally slow speed is a frustration for many aac users because others end up speaking over them before they can finish. (Sometimes, before they can even start!) If a board can offer up fast, accurate predictions as shortcuts, that's a good thing.

Like I'm in applied ling so of course most of my knowledge of where it can be applied ethically is in NLP

even then, even if we regulate it to be only for non-artistic purposes (which. mm. If a tool exists, humans will use it for art so I'm a little skeptical of that sorry), regulate it so all models must be trained on ethically acquired corpora, there's still the environmental impact. Training a model currently has a massive carbon footprint for its usage and arguing about when or where we can use AI brushes that further under the rug.

It's like. We've opened a fresh pandoras box and the argument that follows is whether or not we should be allowed to admire the color of the explosion.

[megankoumori]

Years ago, back in 2016, I wrote a quick blurble on why "SVFOE" is better than James Cameron's "Avatar." Both deal with the plot of an indigenous people colonized and oppressed ("Star's" Monsters, "Avatar's" N'avi), but "Star" handles it in a far better, more complex way.

Here, "Monster" is a broad definition referring to any inhabitant of Mewni whose ancestors were displaced by the original Mewmens (Humans implied to be the lost Roanoke colony.) There are countless "races", from bird types to frogs to mix and match and those that defy description. Some have managed to rise above their Monster status by treaties with the Mewmens and acquiring wealth, such as Rich Pigeon and his parents, or, as with the Avariuses, being placed as puppet rulers under Mewmen control. Most Monsters however, live on the fringe of society, doing whatever they can to survive. As Buff Frog puts it, "[...] Mewmens have corn while Monsters are starving."

The N'avi...well, imagine The Rainforest Cafe decided they needed their own tribe. They are Spiritual, with a capital S, and not only can they paint with all the colors of the wind, they can do it while riding a motherfucking dragon. They have no need for all the material trappings of your shallow, phone loving society. They're so Spiritual, even their trees are Spiritual. Of course, being Better Than You in every conceivable way doesn't mean they don't need Mighty Whitey Jake Sully to step in and save them when the tanks start arollin'.

The colors of the wind only come in blue.

"Avatar" places all the blame for the N'avi's oppression on the Big Bad Military, who are xenophobic, and the Big Bad Corporation, who just want money, and while this has historic truth, the average moviegoer can't relate to them. As presented, they're as far removed from reality and cartoonishly evil as Cruella Deville. The poor scientists just want to Science but are powerless against the all mighty dollar and tanks. Notice that all of this is being delivered with the subtlety of a taser to the genitals.

"Star" on the other hand, puts the whole Mewni system to task. The Magical High Commission are pulling the strings, Solaria waged a genocidical war, but in the end, it's systemic oppression keeping most Monsters in what we see is dire poverty and near starvation. Attitude of Mewmans towards Monsters is generally bigoted and ranges from apathetic to hostile to (in Mina's case) homocidal.

Back in "Not The Good Avatar"...

The OTHER one...

Jake Sully just happens to convenience his way onto the planet and into the plot by way of dead twin. Up until this point, he has been completely divorced from the colonization of Pandora, save for his connection to his Good Guy Scientist Brother. He has had no responsibility in or benefit from the settlement of the planet at the expense of the indigenous N'avi...

UNLIKE STAR. Star is not only a princess, Star is a princess of a world that once belonged to Monsters before the first Mewmens, including her ancestors, wiped most of them out and took their land. Furthermore, Star is only a princess because the true heir, a half-monster half-Mewmen child, was deposed and Star's fifth-great grandmother was swapped in her place. Star has benefited from Mewni's colonization and systematic racism since before she was even born.

Before Jake lucks into getting a tribe invite, partly by stupidity and partly by a sign from the local deity, he knows nothing about the N'avi. They're blue, tall, and paranoid about outsiders is the extent of his knowledge. He's perfectly blasé about possibly betraying an entire race for the chance to permenantly fix his legs.

It's going to take awhile.

Of course, after bonding with the tribe and becoming one with nature and becoming one with the Chief's daughter (in an entirely different way), Jarhead has the inevitable change of heart and must step up to be the Big Damn Hero and a true N'avi leading the charge against the military.

Star knows about Monsters, or at least she thinks she does. That's the whole point. Star was raised from birth to believe that Mewmens conquering the Monsters was justified and, well, Monsters are stupid and gross anyway. Hell, Mewni has an entire day reenacting the slaughter and conquest of the indigenous by the original Mewmens. But we see Star slowly start to peel away at the onion of her indoctrination, starting with that holiday.

Jake becoming the Mighty Whitey Savior of the N'avi rings hollow. He agreed to betray them for a chance for legs, but he's not ultimately responsible for Pandora's colonization. He hasn't benefited from it. He's not making amends for the sins of the father. He's an outsider who had the right DNA.

When Star finally starts to learn about Mewni's past, she begins working on her own to make amends, even eventually giving up the Butterfly's claim to the throne. She plans parties to bring Monster and Mewmen teenagers together in hopes of forging unity. She, the girl who in season one thought it was fun to bust Monsters, now advocates for Monsters' rights. Because it's the right thing to do. Because racism against Monsters ruined Eclipsa, Globgor, and Meteora's lives. Because Star's ancestors stole their home and murdered millions, but inevitably also put her in a position to try and fix it.

Both characters, Jake and Star, go through hell before their happy endings, but whereas Jake gains everything, Star mostly loses. She loses her title, her crown, her kingdom, and her magic. But what does she get? The beginning of a better world, and Marco. And in the process, she almost loses Marco.

Jake agrees to infiltrate the N'avi for intel in exchange for new legs, but ends up switching sides. One could argue this is character development, but really, why wouldn't he eventually switch? General Scar Sweat (I don't know nor care about his name) promised him legs...

"Trust me."

But with the N'avi, Jake not only gets a new body, he gets a dragon, hot N'avi booty, adventure every day, and gets to be the new Grand Poohbah. Sure that's because he inadvertently helped kill the old one, but whatever. Jake rode a special Dragon and made a speech, he's Chief now.

Will I see "Avatar 2: Secret of Blue Water" when it finally comes out? Not on purpose, but I'm sure my mom will want to stream it eventually. Because her taste is basic and she actually thought the first one was deep...

So to her, the pretty CGI and preteniousness masquerading as A Big Important Message will be like dangling car keys in front of a toddler's face.

But to me, "SVTOE" will always be the better story, with better characters, better writing, and better development. Jake Sully starts as a jarhead. He ends as a jarhead who can ride dragons. Star starts as a hyper immature spaz, and ends as a warrior, an advocate, a civil rights leader, and even though she may have relinquished her title, someone who is worthy to be called Queen.