#doing a few experiments with sharpening tool

[aldrozu]

Jellyfish Can't Swim in the Night 🪼

[windser]

thinking about being the non-mc, just sylus pretty princess with no real combative experience. because why would you need it when the n109 zone lifeline was practically intertwined with his own. so no you didn't really need to know how to shoot a gun, but that didn't make you curious. you knew about sylus collection. all about his secred closet of toys of mass destruction.

for the longest, that was his thing. tools he utilized to keep you safe. until the thought occured to you, what were you going to do to keep him safe?

even without asking aloud, you could hear sylus dry chuckle tickling your ear. kitten, if i ever went down, any threat to you would have been eliminated before i drew my last breath. which was scarily sweet to hear, except you hated to think about sylus drawing his last anything.

so you decided on a rather peaceful day, to request that it was now your turn to learn how to weld a gun.

lounged back on the couch, legs parted just enough to give you enough grounding to rest back again, sylus appeared to barely acknowledge your request. it was almost too easy to get lost in the way his face was relaxed against the afternoon sun, no doubt pulling lightly at the strings of sleep to off-set his late night activities.

your finger tips were just grazing his slackened lips, when you brought yourself back to your senses to probe him again. this time he gave you a bit more attention, one vermillion eye peering up at you with hinted bemusement.

always asking for more, hm? because at the end of the day, if it let your lips he would procure it. if only after a bit of teasing. this acceptance, didn't come without a longer look of consideration however as his large hands cupped your cheeks to draw you in until your foreheads touched. he stared at you with an indiscriminate look for a long time, almost long enough to think he'd take back his word before he breathed a slow sigh against your lips.

alright, let's sharpen your claws then.

and so after a few indulgent kisses, you managed to eventually nudge him off the couch, fighting his last dregs of delay. the two of you never needed to leave the estate, trailing down to the lower floors where the twins often escaped to practice.

it was your first time really exploring the area and curiousity roused with it. much more than you thought you harbored. to see you curious and animated over your lesson was foreign and it gave him pause him, but he set his jaw and answered your questions.

perhaps sylus had been waiting for you to eventually chicken out. let that blanket of shyness shroud you as you tucked yourself close to his side and asked to be taken back.

but that never came.

instead, you stood there with a sort of reverence on your face when he placed the gun into your hand, watching you handle it carefully, gently loading and unloading it until you could do it without his directions, your hands moving far more deftly than he would have liked.

watching you, sylus admitted to himself that your nervous naivety had started to relax him a little, your soft voice and innocent questions reminding him that any gun you held wouldn’t tarnish you , no matter how or why you shot it.

so he took more command and stood behind you with his chest against your back, guiding your hands into the correct grip and lifting your arms to just where they should be to hit the fresh target he'd set up after removing the old ones littered from the twins' sessions.

he was ready for the kickback from the shot rocked you back into his muscled frame, but you were not as you squealed in half surprise, half glee. he fought a smile, not noticing he was until you turned and shoved his arm, griping that you’d missed after the high of pulling the trigger had worn off.

guiding you the second time was easier for him, both of you less stiff as he slid his arms down yours, his voice low in your ear. urging you to breathe and take your time instead of a ‘point and shoot’, sylus fought the sudden need to press his lips to where your pulse thumped at your neck, instead letting you relax and shoot when you were ready. the edge of the second most inner ring bore a new breach from your well-placed shot, and syus truly grinned at your childish excitement.

but it didn’t take long for a very different kind of feeling to sink its teeth into sylus, and his eyes glazed over at the loosened tendrils of your hair and your flushed cheeks, trailing his gaze up and down you while you littered the flimsy paper target with sharpened aim.

sylus let you empty the gun of bullets and smirked at the empty clicking of the trigger that you continued to pull. glad he’d only taken a few rounds from inventory expecting you to lose interest rather quickly, sylus now wanted your lesson to end for a very different reason, snaking his arms around your waist, assuring you that there’d be plenty more lessons in your future as he gripped your chin and brought your lips to his.

[dalishious]

Gaming GIF Tutorial (2025)

Here is my current GIF making process from video game captures!

PART 1: Capturing Video

The best tip I can give you when it comes to capturing video from your games, is to invest in an injectable photomode tools - I personally use Otis_Inf's cameras because they are easy to use and run smoothly. With these tools, you can not only toggle the UI, but also pause cutscenes and manually change the camera. They are great for both screenshots and video recording!

As for the recording part, I personally prefer NVIDIA's built-in recording tools, but OBS also works well in my experience when NVIDIA is being fussy.

PART 2: Image Conversion

Do yourself a huge favour and download PotPlayer. It is superior to VLC in more ways than one in my opinion, but is especially helpful for its Consecutive Image Capturer tool.

Open the video recording in PotPlayer, and use CTRL + G to open the tool. If this is your first time, be sure to set up a folder for your image captures before anything else! Here are the settings I use, albeit the "Every # frame" I change from time to time:

When you're ready, hit the "Start" button, then play the part of the video you want to turn into a GIF. When you're done, pause the video, and hit the "Stop" button. You can then check the images captured in your specified storage folder.

(TIP: Start the video a few seconds a head and stop a few seconds after the part you want to make into a GIF, then manually delete the extra images if necessary. This will reduce the chance of any unwanted cut-offs if there is any lagging.)

PART 3: Image Setup

Now, this part I personally always do in GIMP, because I find its "Open as Layers" and image resizing options 100% better and easier to use than Photoshop. But you don't have to use GIMP, you can do this part in Photoshop as well if you prefer.

Open the images each as an individual layer. Then, crop and/or scale to no more than 540px wide if you're uploading to Tumblr.

(TIP: This might just be a picky thing on my end, but I like to also make sure the height is a multiple of 10. I get clean results this way, so I stick to it.)

If you use GIMP for this part, export the file as .psd when done.

PART 4: Sharpening

If you use GIMP first, now it's time to open the file in Photoshop.

The very first thing I always do is sharpen the image using the "Smart Sharpen" filter. Because we downsized the image, the Smart Sharpen will help it look more crisp and naturally sized. These are the settings I mostly use, though sometimes I change the Amount to 200 if it's a little too crunchy:

Here's a comparison between before and after sharpening:

Repeat the Smart Sharpen filter for ALL the layers!

PART 5: Timeline

First, if your timeline isn't visible, turn it on by click on Windows > Timeline. Then, change the mode from video to frame:

Click "Create Frame Animation" with the very bottom layer selected. Then, click on the menu icon on the far-right of the Timeline, and click "Make Frames from Layers" to add the rest of the frames.

Make sure the delay should be 0 seconds between frames for the smoothest animation, and make sure that the looping is set to forever so that the GIF doesn't stop.

Part 5: Editing

Now that the GIF is set up, this is the part where you can add make edits to the colours, brightness/contrast, add text, etc. as overlays that will affect all the layers below it.

Click on the very top layer so that it is the one highlighted. (Not in the timeline, in the layers box; keep Frame 1 highlighted in the timeline!)

For this example, I'm just going to adjust the levels a bit, but you can experiment with all kinds of fun effects with time and patience. Try a gradient mask, for example!

To test your GIF with the applied effects, hit the Play button in the Timeline. Just remember to always stop at Frame 1 again before you make changes, because otherwise you may run into trouble where the changes are only applied to certain frames. This is also why it's important to always place your adjustment layers at the very top!

Part 6: Exporting

When exporting your GIF with plans to post to Tumblr, I strongly recommend doing all you can to keep the image size below 5mb. Otherwise, it will be compressed to hell and back. If it's over 5mb, try deleting some frames, increasing the black parts, or you can reduce to number of colours in the settings we're about to cover below. Or, you can use EZGIF's optimization tools afterwards to reduce it while keeping better quality than what Tumblr will do to it.

Click on File > Export > Save for Web (Legacy). Here are the settings I always use:

This GIF example is under 5mb, yay! So we don't need to fiddle with anything, we can just save it as is.

I hope this tutorial has offered you some insight and encouragement into making your own GIFs! If you found it helpful, please reblog!

[bonchobrick]

Duke and Danny bestie fic im co-authoring with some cool people for Patrol Partners! :D

A fic where Duke knows a lot about Gotham’s new problem, ghosts. The Waynes think the worst and assume he’s had some terrible experience with ghosts in the past (in reality is just very happy to talk about his best friends culture and doesnt realize how odd it is that he knows all this stuff)

Or

Duke is pretty much just vibing, the bats are having a meltdown, and Danny is having a blast!

—-

Then Duke pops the question

“So, what are you guys researching?” He asks raising a brow to the papers littered all over the room

Collectively the entire room groans as Duke absentmindedly picks up a paper on the table with the failed, static over-run image.

“We don't know!” Steph bemoans frustrated

Tim starts, “There are new entities–”

“Creatures.” Bruce corrects

Tim casts a piercing glance at his father, “I am pretty sure those are entities. Eye witness reports state that they look fairly human-like–”

Bruce challenges him right back, “Eye witness reports were also very likely to be unfactual, they seemed partially intoxicated. It’s more likely they are some kind of mutated animal.”

His son’s teeth grit, “Even so we still can’t rule out–”

“Oh right, the ghosts are back in town,” Duke's comments, gaze absorbed in the static image

Silence drowns the room as their weary eyes blink at Duke, processing what he had just said.

Then it clicks

“R-repeat that?” Tim stares intensely at Duke

“Um, the ghosts are back? That's what these are.” Duke nervously replies confused, “It’s been a bit since they visited Gotham

Tim opens and closes his mouth, immensely struggling to find any words to say. It seems like the rest of his family is fairing no better, some of them letting out noises of surprise and shock with others trying to hear if they heard that sentence right.

“There used to be ghosts in Gotham?” Bruce says incredulously

“Yeah?” Duke tilts his head, “I mean they don’t like living here with the corrupt ectoplasm but I’m friends with a few ghosts?”

Jason springs on him with wide eyes, “What are ghosts like, personality-wise?”

Duke thinks and responds with the first thought that comes to mind, “Fickle, they can be super friendly or super destructive. They do whatever they’re in the mood to.”

“Are they aggressive?”

“Sure? Sometimes?” Duke blinks at them bewildered before a petty smile crosses his lips, “They can be, hmm, commanding.”

Dicks eyes turn cold and protective, “What–”

“Listen guys,” Duke backs away from the discussion going with his internal task list in mind, “I gotta go wrap up putting together all my documents for my topic on my science fair project so uh, see-ya!”

The second youngest bounces out of the cave and the rest of the family stare dumbstruck at him.

New entities (ghosts?) pop up in Gotham + Duke describes them as fickle and commanding =

Duke is being made to do things for Ghosts who can be kind and cruel which =

= Duke is being bullied by Ghosts?!

Not on their Bat-watch!

Damian is already sharpening his ‘not murder tools’, Tim has sprung into research on the bat computer and the rest of the family have already dipped into Gotham ready to search for these perps!

Paranoid Family #1 will help Duke’s ghost problem starting now!

( pssst heres the fic :)

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Traitors & Lovers (Hero & Villain) part 20

Warnings: injuries and scars, mentions of wound care and stitches, loads of emotional angst & tension, Villian reluctantly letting Hero treat her wounds

The quiet was heavy and awkward, Villain watching Hero like a hawk as he tended to her injuries, her eyes tracking every movement he made with wary distrust.

"You've been a complete ass this whole time," Villain suddenly blurted out of nowhere. "Ever since you rescued me. You're a jerk."

Hero paused, his gloves slimy with topical medicine. "I know I have been," he said quietly, not even trying to justify it or defend himself. "And you haven't deserved it. So I deeply apologize for my behavior this past week. I was acting like we used to together, all flippant humor, biting sarcasm, and playful cockiness -- but things are different now, and I should have acted accordingly, instead of trying to re-establish an outdated sense of normalcy that will never come back again."

"Is that what you've been trying to do?" Villain scoffed. "Acting like the old you did, the one that betrayed me, to try and make me feel safer? The one that I fell in love with? Do you really think that's going to make me warm up to you, when all emotions I have tied to the past version of us are negative?" Suddenly it all made sense now.

Villain's expression turned anguished. "Hero, you know me -- I learn from my mistakes, and I do not repeat errors expecting different results. I loved you once, in the past, and got burned because of it. The old version of you is unlovable now in my eyes, and will forever be tainted with bitterness -- things need to change if you want me to tolerate you again. I'm pushing you away because you're still the same. You're relying on what made me fall in love with you back then, and you don't seem to realize that I can't trust that part of you anymore." She shook her head with a sigh.

"You need to be very, very different before I'll ever be willing to turn my back to you again, Hero -- if it ever even happens at all, which it likely won't. You need to be better than this." Her eyes sharpened, and her heart hurt to lash out at Hero like this, but she needed to draw a clear line.

"I will say it one final time to get it through your stupid thick skull that I don't love you anymore -- and you will never earn that privilege from me in the future. You permanently broke me when you used me as a tool for information -- you can try to glue the shattered pieces back together if you're so desperate, but you'll cut yourself on all the sharp little edges. I know that from experience trying to put myself back together all this time."

Hero's face crumpled, and Villain hated that he looked dejected -- what right did he have to feel that way, after all he'd done?? Did he really think she would forgive him and move on? Why did he seem disappointed by her rejection? He should have seen it coming.

Or maybe he did, and it still hurt anyway. Villain hoped that was the case -- he deserved it.

She expected Hero to clap back with barbed remarks, beg for the forgiveness he was so clearly desperate for or defend his actions and try to explain them...

But Hero didn't argue, to her utmost surprise. He just... nodded in silent acceptance.

"I'll give you space, then, for the next few days while you recover," he whispered dully. "I'll make myself scarce aside from doing your daily wound treatments, and you can come talk to me when you're ready. Because you're absolutely right -- I've been a total jerk to you. I should have let you decide when you wanted to interact instead of forcing it on you like I have. I'm sorry – I promise things will be different going forward.”

Villain blinked at him in surprise. She... wasn't expecting him to take it this well. Or maybe Hero was putting up a facade to hide how much her words hurt him. That seemed like viable reasoning, considering how Villain could see the pain in his eyes even though he was keeping his facial expression neutral.

The eyes never lie -- they are the window to a person's soul. And she could see the pain hidden below the surface of Hero's carefully crafted exterior.

Villain suddenly flinched with a hiss as Hero pressed his hands on a sensitive spot on her ribs.

"Sorry," Hero winced, "I'm almost done.”

Villain didn't make eye contact for the rest of it, enduring his help in silence as he covered her in bandages once more.

Soon, Hero was packing up his supplies and leaving her to her thoughts.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @written-in-the-stars135 @neverthelass

@starz8nk @redwinesupanover @whumpisgoodwhumpislife @theforeverdyingperson @whatwhump

@writing-with-olive @and-we-shake-the-iron-hand @art3m1zz @enigmawriteswhump @basica11ywhumped

[mistressflorence32]

The Art of Denial: Chastity Lessons from a Mistress

Hello my wonderful community, I know it’s been quite a while since I last posted on here. I’ve been going through a few mental things recently, thinking about my past and my future. Some of my revelations may even make their way onto here, it hasn’t been a negative experience at all, but a draining one. Let’s just say my sub has been doing a lot more foot massaging and pussy licking than usual to keep me relaxed.

There’s also been my birthday, which was its own event. You’ll find out all about that soon. I recently went into a writing frenzy and created quite a few essays like this one, getting out all of my feelings and thoughts. It was freeing and you’ll see more of it soon. For now this essay is about my thoughts on denial for subs, and the journey I’m on with my slave, marching headfirst into permanent chastity.

There’s something intoxicating about denial. It’s not just the act itself—the click of a lock, the weight of a cage, the way a sub’s eyes widen when he realizes he’s truly at my mercy. It’s the art of it. Chastity, when wielded by a Mistress like me, becomes more than a tool; it’s a brushstroke on the canvas of control, a melody in the symphony of submission. It’s about crafting desire, bending it, shaping it until it serves my pleasure above all else. Over the years, I’ve honed this art, and today, I’m pulling back the curtain to share what I’ve learned—both from my own journey and from the writhing, devoted slave who kneels at my feet, currently locked in a year-long test of my design.

Let’s start with the basics: chastity isn’t about punishment. Sure, it can sting—figuratively and sometimes literally—but its true power lies in transformation. When I lock a sub, I’m not just taking away his ability to touch himself; I’m redirecting his energy, his focus, his very essence toward me. It’s a slow burn, a delicious unraveling of his ego until all that’s left is a man who lives to please.

And trust me, there’s nothing more satisfying than watching that shift happen—knowing I’m the architect of it. In the femdom world, we talk a lot about power exchange, but chastity is where it gets real. It’s tangible. A sub can kneel and call me “Mistress” all day long, but when I snap that lock shut, he’s not just saying it—he’s living it. His body becomes mine to command, his pleasure mine to grant or withhold.

And here’s the kicker: most subs crave it. They might not admit it at first—there’s usually some squirming, some whining—but deep down, they want the structure, the surrender. They want to be sculpted by someone who knows what she’s doing. That’s where I come in. Chastity isn’t something you dive into headfirst—at least, not if you’re smart about it. It’s an art that demands patience, both from the Mistress and the sub. You don’t hand a novice painter a massive canvas and expect a masterpiece; you start with sketches, studies, small exercises to build skill. Chastity’s the same. When I first began exploring it, I didn’t lock a sub up for a month and call it a day. I started small, testing the waters, learning how it felt to hold that key—and how it felt for him to lose it.

Take my own slave, for instance. When he came to me at 19, he was eager but untested—a skinny thing with a flicker of muscle and a lot of bravado. I could see the potential, but potential doesn’t mean much without discipline. So, I introduced chastity in bite-sized pieces. The first time, it was just a weekend—48 hours with a simple cage, enough to make him squirm but not enough to break him.

He’d fidget, glance at me with those pleading eyes, and I’d just smile. “You’ll survive,” I’d say, and he did. That little taste was enough to hook him—and me. I saw how his focus sharpened, how every command I gave carried more weight. It was like flipping a switch: suddenly, he wasn’t just my sub—he was mine. Those early sentences were experiments. A weekend here, a week there, each one a lesson in control.

I’d watch how he reacted—did he sulk, or did he rise to the challenge? Did he beg too soon, or did he learn to wait? For me, it was about gauging his limits while teaching him that his body wasn’t his anymore. And for him? It was about discovering what it meant to serve. Each short stint built trust—trust in me, trust in the process, trust that I’d always hold the reins.

After those initial dips, I decided to stretch the canvas. Small sentences were fun, but I wanted to see what chastity could really do—how it could reshape a sub over time. So, with my slave, we moved to a year-long experiment. Not continuous—not yet—but a year total, broken into chunks with breaks in between. Think of it like intervals in a workout: intense effort, then rest, then back at it. It was a rhythm that kept him on his toes and let me refine my technique.

We started with a month. Thirty days locked, no release unless I deemed it earned. He’d been a little cocky after the shorter stints, thinking he had it figured out, but a month? That’s when the real denial kicks in. By day 10, he was restless. By day 20, he was desperate. And by day 30, he was a different man—quieter, softer, more attuned to my every word. I’d let him out for a week or two, let him breathe, then lock him back up—two months this time. Then three.

Each stretch was a deeper dive, a chance to peel back another layer of his self-control and replace it with my control. What I loved about this phase was how it revealed chastity’s ripple effects. It wasn’t just about his cock being off-limits; it changed everything. He’d hit the gym harder—those breaks between locks gave him just enough taste of freedom to fuel his drive. He’d cook for me, clean for me, anticipate my needs before I even voiced them.

Denial didn’t just deny him pleasure; it amplified his purpose. And for me? It was a masterclass in patience and power. I learned how to tease without breaking, how to dangle the key just out of reach and watch him strain for it. That year, with its starts and stops, was when I truly began to see chastity as an art form—not just a game, but a craft I could master.

Now, we’re in the thick of it—my slave’s currently enduring a full, uninterrupted year of chastity. No breaks, no pauses, just 365 days of me holding the key and him living under my rule. No erections. No orgasms. The bare minimum in terms of being allowed out for cleaning. We’re several months in, and let me tell you, this is where the real magic’s happening. He’s not fighting the cage anymore—he’s starting to embrace it.

His body’s changing too. Those gym sessions I’ve pushed him toward are paying off—the skinny guy I started with is turning into a lean, sculpted sub, all that pent-up energy pouring into weights instead of wasted elsewhere. I catch myself admiring him sometimes, the way his shoulders are broadening, the way his dedication shows in every line of muscle.

He’s not there yet—not the masterpiece I know he’ll become—but he’s on the path. And me? I’m loving the control. I time his tasks, his workouts, his moments of weakness, all while dangling the promise of release like a carrot he won’t reach—not this year, anyway. He’s stopped asking as often now. He just looks at me, waiting, knowing I’ll decide. And I do—usually with a smirk and a “Not yet.”

This uninterrupted year is painting something beautiful. By the time we hit day 365, I expect him to be a different man—fully surrendered, fully mine. It’s a test of endurance for him and a test of precision for me. I’m learning how far I can push, how much I can shape him without breaking him. And when it’s done? That’s when the real fun begins.

Here’s where I’m headed: permanent chastity. Once this year’s up, he may be unlocked for a short while. But then it will be time to move forward into the next stages, slowly building up until we reach a point where that cage will go on one final time, and never be unlocked again. The cage won’t just be a tool; it’ll be part of him, part of us. I won’t even think about the key anymore, and I’ll train him not to either. It won’t be a sentence—it’ll be a state of being. People might call it extreme, but they don’t understand. This isn’t about cruelty; it’s about completion.

I see it so clearly: my slave, thriving under permanent lock. All that energy he’s channeling now into the gym, into serving me, will become his norm. He won’t be suffering—he’ll be soaring, a sub who’s found his purpose in my hands. That skinny kid I started with? He’ll be gone, replaced by a strong, devoted man I can’t take my eyes off. And me? I’ll feel more powerful than ever. Every glance at that cage will remind me I’ve shaped him into this—that I’ve denied him to give him something greater.

I’m not there yet, but I’m building toward it. This year’s the foundation, the final stretch before I frame my masterpiece. I’ll keep pushing him, refining him, until he’s ready to wear that cage forever. And when he does? The view from this side of the key will be exquisite.

So, what’s the art of denial teaching me? First, it’s personal. Every sub’s different—some need a week to crack, others a year. You’ve got to know your canvas. Second, it’s dynamic. Chastity evolves with you, deepens as you push it. Third, it’s mutual. Yes, it’s about my pleasure, but a good Mistress knows how to make it feed his soul too. He might not get off, but he gets me—and that’s better.

For the subs reading this: try it. Start small, let her lock you, see where it takes you. For the Mistresses: wield it. Play with it. Make it yours. Chastity’s not just a kink—it’s a craft, one that can turn a man into a masterpiece. My slave’s on his way there—months into a locked year, with permanence on the horizon. And trust me, when I get him there, it’ll be a work of art worth every second of denial.

Also I just want to make it known I have seen your messages and desperately want to respond and connect with this community we’re building, but I’m running into some issues technically, all of my replies get instantly deleted. I’ll keep trying to find a way, thank you! 💋

[jeremiahhawkinsfanfics]

VIKTOR’S BACK OPERATION 🩻💉😱

Extract from Jayvik Loving is Caring - Chapter 7

Read the whole fic on AO3

The Piltover clock tower chimed six times, each ring reverberating in his skull. Viktor’s eyelids grew heavy, the pull of sleep too powerful to resist. The exhaustion was overwhelming, but his mind was caught in a whirlwind of memories. As the tide of sleep surged over him, it dragged him into unconsciousness, his lamp still burning bright and the pencil slipping from his fingers.

Through the fog of his fevered dreams, memories began to leak in. He was fifteen again—bent over his cane, his back twisted in pain. He stood in Singed’s laboratory, barely clothed, surrounded by instruments that seemed as ancient as they were terrifying. The glint of copper screws, rows of syringes, and sharp, gleaming scalpels shimmered on the counter.

“On the table.”

The Doctor’s voice, cold and commanding, echoed through the cavernous room. His words repeated in a never-ending loop, an eerie chant that made Viktor's skin crawl. His pulse hammered in his ears, drowning out all other sounds, while his breath came in shallow gasps. Sweat slid down his body, each drop a cold reminder of his fear.

He looked at the table. He had seen so many test subjects lie on it… and he saw what happened to them. His heart pounded so loud in his ears that he could barely hear anything else. His breath was short, nearly erratic, and sweat trailed down his body in thin, tickling streams that felt like crawling spiders on his skin.

In lethal silence, the Doctor was preparing his tools, calmly filling tubes with strange liquids, and sharpening his scalpel.

Viktor’s eyes were drawn to Rio — swollen and floating in formaldehyde — and every instinct in him screamed to run.

Run as far away from here and never come back.

Run before it was too late.

Run for his life.

But Viktor couldn’t run. His back — his damned, traitorous back — left him no choice.

“Do you need help?” the Doctor asked, his voice unbothered by the terror Viktor was trying desperately to mask.

Viktor took a shaky breath and forced himself to ignore all his most critical instincts. “At least if it fails, I’ll die. Not like Rio” he thought bitterly. Cold comfort.

With every ounce of willpower his fifteen years of existence had to offer, Viktor stepped forward and climbed onto Doctor Singed’s operating table.

“Lay down.”

His muscles locked up. His whole body fought against the command. But he forced his limbs to obey, folding onto the cold metal surface, lying on his stomach. Never in his whole life had he ever felt more vulnerable, laid bare under the cold, emotionless gaze of a man that he had seen perform countless unspeakable experiences before. His hands trembled, and he clenched them into fists so tight his knuckles went white.

“Does your mother know you’re here?” he asked, checking the long — far too long — needle of a syringe.

“Y-yes���” Viktor stammered. “T-Told her. Said I’d be b-back home… late.”

“You do realize you’re not going home tonight?”

The words ran like ice through his spine, chilling him from tailbone to crown.

“I… I…”

“If the operation is successful, it will take a few days to heal. She will worry.”

Viktor’s words caught in his throat, suffocating him.

Then came the leather restraints, clicking around his limbs, pinning him to the operation table like that poor little larva that didn’t survive its painful vivisection. He was trapped.

His stomach churned. Viktor clenched his jaw, fighting the rising nausea, fighting the panic that screamed for him to flee. All alarms rang full force in his brain. Get out. Run. Scream. He could feel Rio’s presence behind him. His eyes burned, but he refused to cry.

“Shhhh… It’s okay… I will tell her.” the Doctor’s voice slithered around him, meant to soothe but only amplifying his terror.

Cold, gloved fingers traced the curve of his twisted spine. Viktor squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the sensation.

“You understand that even once this is done, it won’t be straight, right? It will take months to correct your posture. You’ll have to wear the corset I built—for the rest of your life.”

Viktor nodded, his teeth clenched so hard that he feared they might crack.

“Out loud.” Singer ordered.

“Yes. I. Understand.” Viktor’s voice shook, but he forced the words out.

He was craving the chemical oblivion of anaesthesia to deliver him from this devastating fear.

Just start already. Let the gas knock me out.

“Good.” Singed replied, satisfied.

Singed continued to move slowly around the table. Viktor could hear the metal and glass cluttering moving around him. Not seeing him was even worse.

Then the small gas mask appeared in the Doctor’s hand. Viktor’s heart raced, and his breath caught in his chest as Singed methodically fitted the mask over his face.

“Deep breaths”

Viktor obeyed, but the gas burned as it filled his lungs, acrid and foul. He fought the urge to cough, feeling his body begin to shut down as the chemical fog filled his senses. The air in the mask grew thick, suffocating.

“Janna, let me fall asleep. Please. Let this be over.”

Over the wild beat of his heart, his hurling instincts, and his breathe echoing in the smelly mask, he could overhear the countdown of Singed echoing endlessly on the walls of the cave.

For an endless, terrifying second, Viktor realized this may be the very last thing he would hear in his entire life.

“Janna, please…” he begged in silence, as he felt chemical coma swiping him away. “Please, let me live…”

Suddenly, knocks resonated through the cave – strong, heavy… alien.

More knocking, sharper this time. Someone was pounding on a door. But… Singed’s lab never had a door.

A voice broke the thin veil of sleep — faint at first, then clearer, louder

“Viktor? Are you in there?”

“Jayce?” Viktor’s thoughts stuttered in disbelief.

The dream twisted and shifted, everything spiralling out of control — and Viktor fell.

He jolted awake, breathless, eyes wide with fear, his face and neck slick with cold sweat.

He was back in his dorm. His room. Not in his mentor’s laboratory.

A trembling hand pressed against his chest, feeling the frantic thud of his heart.

He was safe.

He was alive.

Thank you for reading 😊

Read more on AO3

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hi darling!~ (I'll immediately stop calling you that if you don't like it/don't feel comfortable lol) Lately your girlies been obsessing over the song 'Older' by Isabel LaRosa that's been going BADSHIT popular on tiktok so I thought I'd spill some thoughts~

Teacher!Vil X Yandere(ish)!Student!Yuu

Summary : Yuu who grew up with a bad father and gained heavy daddy issues gets attached to her teacher after he starts giving her the fatherly love and care she never got, always being nice and checking up on her. at first it's a simple silly crush on her teacher but after time it blooms into an obsession where she starts lusting after him and craves constant validation from him. In her eyes he's the perfect guy, he's older and has more experience, he could never treat her wrong. even though he may be colder from time to time she believes he has a soft spot for her. Poor Yuu when the teacher who she fell so madly inlove with doesn't return her feelings and begins distancing himself from her.... Or will he?..

(Your ending <3)

Surprise me sweetheart ♡

-Prev. 🥀🦋 / Now 🎋🪭

I really like that song, might become my newest obsession... 🖤🖤🖤🖤

Yandere Teacher Vil Schoenheit x Obsessed Student Reader 

Vil definitely has that aura of an unbiased but caring mentor much like Crewel. He’s confident and quaint, praising you in any capacity thrills most who receive it. Granted it’s sprinkled with underlying insults and a general lack of faith. But for someone like you, who can barely get your own father to even look at you it means so much more:

So of course you’ll obsess over him 

Putting him on a pedestal you’re willing to do anything for 

Study and pass his class

Tell on all the naughty potatoes in class

Even framing the professor he’s wanted gone since the beginning

“Well done.”

“R-really?”

“Yes, I’m quite pleased you’ve proven to be more helpful than the other useless potatoes.”

“T-thank you M-Mister Vil!”

He doesn’t stop you or even act like he doesn’t reciprocate

A few light touches

A kiss or two

A nibble of the ear

Your friends warn you  when they realize the love of your life is the degrading teacher of etiquette 

“This isn’t a good idea…(Y/n) he’s like much older than you.”

“So? That just means he has experience!”

“He’s thinking about retirement!”

“Early retirement!”

“Nooo!”

Nothing really stops you from your newfound love 

That is until he crashes the illusion himself 

“Oh~Roi du Poison, don’t tell me you’ve fallen for the misguided doe?”

“Please, they’re just a tool I’m sharpening. A potato I’ve decided is worth polishing…for the time being.”

It destroys you

What meaning of life is there if he doesn’t even care about yours

You stop showing up to school

You won’t leave your room

“Where is (L/n)?”

“Pft wouldn’t you like to know!”

“We’re not telling you. You don’t deserve to even speak to them.”

“Fine if that’s how it’s going to be, I’ll give your regards to them.”

“What?!” “Wait!” 

Unbeknownst to you Vil is very much in love with you 

But what did you expect?!

That he’d admit to actually being just as obsessed if not more so than you

He figured the best way to keep you close enough was by taking advantage of your emotional flaw

And while he wasn’t wrong, 

he realized the way it’s been going is all too risky

Nosy obstacles friends of yours, suspicious coworkers, gossiping potatoes

It’s just too risky so he’ll promptly resign putting time and energy into his former hobby

Taking the world by storm he’ll disappear

Giving you the so-called space you want so badly

But he’ll be watching

Watching as you mend yourself together only to fall apart again with every new tragedy

Your grades suspiciously slip

Your house is going to be foreclosed

Your father disappears one evening becoming a missing person’s case

And finally, your dear poor friends suddenly die

Catching some sickness after investigating something they refused to tell you about in  the forest

It’s there, where you’ve graduated and are at your lowest once again that he makes his move

“It’s been a while, (L/n).”

He’ll skew the events that day claiming the doe was someone else or that it was all a cover

And like that, he’ll slither back into your heart with his leash fully keeping you within his grasp

“For all that trouble, (Y/n) you’re irrevocably mine.”

[sol-consort]

doing my nails rn, waiting for them to dry, and since Mass Effect didn't tell me personally what the aliens feel about painting nails, here's what I think each alien species habits when it comes to nails are:

Asari

Do they have nails?

Their hand structure is very similar to that of a human, leading to strong indications of nails. Although most asari ingame wear gloves/armour so it's hard to give a clear answer. Schrödinger's nails?

What are their nail grooming habits?

Listen... before their galactic expansion, they could only have other asari partners. And you know what nails come in the way of? Yeah. Exactly. So, while yes, they have other options now, the tradition of keeping their nails short, trimmed, and bare is still passed down in asari generations.

Either way, they behave as more of a practical species than an aesthetic one, and long nails just aren't that practical. While biotics originate in the brain, the hands act as a catalyst for the powers, possibly altering the asari views of their hands to differ from humans. fingers to them are a proper tool that must be trained, maintained, with clean, trimmed nails.

If introduced to human nail cosmetics?

They'd would be intrigued to try it at least once, but only very few actually enjoy it enough to maintain the habit—mostly those with human heritage. While the asari have taken inspiration from human fashion before, the same can't be said for any form of cosmetics.

Humans who haven't worn nail polish before say it feels like an uncomfortable weight on their nail after trying it for the first time, most asari might experience that as well. It could possibly tip their biotics.

-

Turians

Do they have nails?

Their nails—or claws, to be more specific, are different from human nails. Sharper, longer, larger, other words that end with -er. Akin to bird claws, a nerve ending is embedded in the talon.

Their claws are deadly if used properly, capable of piercing skin, and ripping flesh. Most turians don't watch their hands around other turians, courtesy of their sturdy skin and protective plating, but the species has shown to be extra careful with their hands around softer beings, such as hanar, salarians, and humans.

What are their nail grooming habits?

The dark-hue in their claws make harder to locate the quick within the nail; the risk of damaging the quick is higher, often painful, and results in bleeding.

Even the simple process of trimming the edges can be uncomfortable by itself, making a turian feel queasy.

Blunt claws could take a toll on a turian's mental health and their self-image. Studies have found correlations between the a turian's mental state and their talons, brittle and jagged claws could be symptoms of severe depression.

Growing out their sharp talons is a sign of coming of age in turian society. Babies, toddlers, and early teens have their claws periodically trimmed for their own safety by a specialist—it's as beloved between the youth as going to the dentist is for human children.

Parents are advised to encourage their children to play with rough textured toys that will wear down the sharp edges of their claws, since trimming them themselves can lead to accidentally damaging the quick.

If introduced to human nail cosmetics?

they'd admit to having similar products in their society that focus more on a achieving shiny surface finish, how it's common practice to sharpen your talons with care before a date, an important event, or just as a fancy grooming habit.

The holographic and metalic nail polish intrigue them, but it's greatly difficult to hold a human nail polish stick, let alone use the small thing to paint with, unless assisted by a human.

-

Salarians

Do they have nails?

Man I don't fucking know. Sure, no, they don't. Salarians' fingertips are noticeably more infalted than the rest of their fingers, the extra padding giving them a better grip on things. Usually covered with gloves, their external armour, or any protective wear. Most likely than not, they lack nails.

Going by amphibian anatomy—which they are—it's still a no. The closest things amphibians have to nails are hardened skin tips at the end of their fingers, but they count as false nails/claws.

Maybe their diet primarily consisted of insects, fruits, and other soft things that didn't require nails? Maybe they just swallowed things whole? Maybe their choice of prey was soluble in water and became mushy?

What are their nail grooming habits?

Nonexistent.

If introduced to human nail cosmetics?

They'd wonder what happened down the human evolutionary line to make us have these many phenotypes when it came to mate attraction, self expression, and aesthetic appeal. Humans colour their hair, paint their nails, draw on their face, peirce their skin, and enjoy a variety of clothes drastically different in styles.

It's amusing more than anything, and pleasent to look at. focus groups have shown that salarians pay more attention to a moving human hand if it has painted nails. The more vibrant and shiny, the better. Theorising it might unconsciously remind them of reflective insect shells or fluorescent wings of flying insects.

[userwonu]

HOW TO: change the background color of a gif with a lot of movement ⭐

for if you are lazy as fawkkk like me and don't feel like figuring out how to use keyframes, or if your gif has too much movement to make it work teehee. it is labor intensive, but this gif originally looked like this so it is definitely worth the effort!

METHOD 1: adjustment layers

this works well with movement, however results are best if the background is very distinct! i would not advise against attempting this with a red or yellow background because it is going to mess with the skintones. i'd aim for blues, cyans, pinks, purples and very saturated greens (because some shades of green will be picked up as yellow and not adjust well)

for tutorial purposes, i'm going to go with a gif with a background that's cyan/blue. you can go ahead and get your gif loaded in, sharpened, etc. you can color it first, however i'm not going to be doing so.

the first thing you're going to do is make a hue/sat adjustment layer. you are going to bring the overall saturation up first (so leave it how it is and increase saturation). this is very much a matter of personal taste so just do as much or as little as you'd like. i'm also going to do a levels layer. use the eyedropper to pinpoint the darkest black and whitest white on the image. this leaves us with this, the goal here being to accentuate the background a bit.

now, create another hue/saturation adjustment layer. instead of leaving it as is, change 'master' to the most prominent color in your background. i'm going to go with blue. if you are working with a blueish background, you will likely need to follow this step with blue and cyan for everything to be picked up!

drag the 'hue' slider over in either direction until you achieve the color you're looking for. some shades will be easier than other: going from a blue to a purple or pink will be easier than reaching a yellow shade. however with enough tweaking anything is possible :3 this is what it looks like now.

i'm going to do some coloring over this now, and some underneath as well. color to your liking! if the skin tones are off when coloring over this layer, move your coloring layers beneath it. you can also just color it first as i mentioned earlier :) either works fine. export it and this is what we're left with!

METHOD 2: frame by frame

this method is a little more time intensive, but it works well when your background is a neutral color, multiple colors, or too close to a skintone to be manipulated.

a few notes here: this works best in my experience if the person in the gif has dark hair. it can totally work otherwise but dark is more forgiving lol. it also helps it blend better because you can change the highlights without throwing the rest of the hair off!

you are going to want to do all of your sharpening, coloring and any other edits first. otherwise, your background may be messed up when coloring over it. once your coloring is done, convert your gif back to a frame animation. you can find a quick tutorial on how to do this as well as an action here.

with your gif converted back, create a gradient map with the color(s) you want your background to be. start with the very first frame in the gif and put the gradient map one layer above this frame. change the blend mode to whatever you happen to think looks best: i'm using color here.

now, you're going to click that first frame and select your magic wand tool. on your top toolbar you'll see an option to 'select subject'. click the drop down menu, select 'cloud select'. then click 'select subject' and it'll select the person in your gif.

then, go back to your gradient map and select your layer mask. make sure your foreground color is white and background color is black. then, go to edit -> cut. this will mask the layer so the gradient map is only applied to the background. make any adjustments using a white brush tool on the layer mask. here, there's still some small orange pieces left over so i'm going to fix that.

afterward, you will merge your frame with your gradient map (i recommend copying the gradient map first so you don't have to create it over and over again lmfao).

the highlights in his hair start to become more visible a few frames in, so when i'm adjusting the layer mask i'm going to account for this by brushing over his hair so the highlights go from their original white to pink. again, this is optional! the white just stands out too much for my linking.

now... you are going to repeat this step until you reach the end of your gif :) gradient map above the frame you're working with, layer mask, merge, repeat. it's time consuming but worth it!

once you're finished and your sanity is depleted, delete the frames from the timeline. the animation is going to be thrown off by all the editing we've done so it's best to just remake it.

to remake it, click the three lines, then 'make frames from layers'

then, select all your frames and set the frame delay to 0.07 (you can do 0.05 too but that's just my preference). you can either export it like this or convert it to a smart object for further editing. this is how it turns out!

[raygunny]

Wandering Eyes

Word count: 2,203

Astarion x Fem Tav

I hyperfocused for 4 hours straight and this is what fell out. My first longer story, please enjoy 💙

Astarion often finds himself staring at Tav.

At first it’s to size her up - see how she thinks, how she holds herself, how she reacts to the others and the situations they keep finding themselves in. Searching for any information that will help him in his goal of getting this tadpole out of his head, of gaining allies in this bizarre and disorienting situation.

Maybe even allies that can help him wipe Cazador off the face of the planet, he thinks to himself.

Early on it’s obvious that Tav has become the leader of this little wayward crew. She’s the first to take action, making the quick decisions that have kept them alive this long. Leading them across this gods forsaken land, collecting more members all along the way. He’s not too thrilled about that last part, but safety in numbers he supposes. She’s the clear key to getting the others to accept him.

As soon as he thinks he has a good read on her, he turns it into a tool. A too easy tactic sharpened by years of experience. The many cataloged faces and expressions ready to be equipped just like anything else he wears. Armor is the word he can’t quite find.

It’s child’s play really, the formulas for seduction, for enticing others into his orbit. Something that has become second nature for him. He senses he will need to take it somewhat slow with her, work his way up to more. It’s a much slower burn than most of the one night lovers he’s had over the many years.

He starts with a classic - a brief but strong, intense gaze right into her eyes, as if he’s peering into her soul. Trying to convey a certain air that says, you’re the only thing on my mind. Luckily he has plenty of opportunities to perform this tactic, it seems she enjoys visiting his tent just to chat. Seeking him out most nights. No surprise, he knows he’s a talented conversationalist.

It’s strange though, she often asks the kind of questions he’s not as used to answering. She asks his opinion on all the hectic events playing out around them, on what he thinks they should do next, checks in to make sure he’s doing okay. Perfect, he thinks, she’s clearly already starting to become enamored.

He tries not to question the strange feeling in his gut every time she walks away.

Days pass, long and arduous, filled with more fighting than he’s ever had to dole out. He often finds himself back to back with Tav, each keeping their initial promise to watch out for one another. Good, at least she likes him enough to continue protecting him. They press on, trekking through the hellish wilderness. With her and the rest of the crew chatting and joking around, he finds himself minding less and less.

Unfortunately for him, he still can’t quite work out if his advances have been effective or not. He begins to occasionally throw in a prolonged look, dragging his eyes up and down her body - never lingering for too long, but still an obvious appreciation of her form. Projecting confidence and desire while catching her eyes from across camp. Pairing it with a few flirtatious comments and he’s sure she’ll be in the palm of his hand soon enough.

He's making progress, she’s definitely warmed to him, but he still senses her guard is up. Not a problem, if all else fails, everyone melts when he tilts his pretty face down and looks up through hooded lids. His long lashes and scarlett eyes pairing oh so perfectly. He’s been complimented on his eyes more times than he could ever count. Almost hypnotizing the ones he lavishes his gaze upon. Lowering his voice to a softer, deeper, sweet tone, he tells her all the things she could possibly wish to hear. How beautiful she is, how he wants her, how he needs her.

It’s not a total lie, he finds himself thinking. He pushes away the thought as soon as it pops into his head.

As the days continue to go by, he becomes less confident that she’s the easy target he first thought her to be. She seems to like him well enough, but frustratingly doesn’t react in the same ways he’s typically used to during this whole seduction business. She just smiles and looks right back, asking him questions that are much too personal for his taste. His flirtatious comments are met with her pretty smile and a good natured laugh, throwing banter right back at him with ease. He’s not sure if she’s just not attracted to him or if he’s doing something wrong.

His confusion only increases when one day a much too nice piece of armor is neatly left on his bedroll, he immediately knows who it’s from. Inspecting it, he notices the finer details - it’s something she easily could have sold for a hefty amount of gold. When he asks about it, she just looks at him and says, to protect you, with that same maddening smile.

Next time, it’s a book he’d been eyeing some days ago while looting one of the many destroyed villages they’d come across. It had been too ruined to take back to camp and he sighed, tossing it back into the pile of rubble he snatched it from. When she sees the astonished look on his face, she shrugs and says, I just saw it at the market and thought of you. Simple as that.

It’s perplexing. They’ve been traveling together for some time now and she hasn’t tried to proposition him, hasn’t asked for anything in return. If she isn’t interested, then why does she keep coming over to talk to him each night? Why does she leave all those small, thoughtful gifts?

Why did she let him bite her?

Astarion tells himself to get it together, he’s usually better at reading people than this. He tries to convince himself that it must be the long days and variety of conflicts they’ve had to deal with - strange and dangerous creatures, endless walking, Gale.

To his chagrin he starts to notice himself staring even when he doesn’t mean to. When she’s talking to whatever new foe or potential ally they’ve stumbled across, he can’t seem to keep his eyes from straying towards her. The confidence and conviction she radiates is magnetic. It surprises him, some feeling he can’t name swirling in his stomach. His eyes get caught on her sunlit profile, walking side by side and hanging a little ways back from the others. He finds his breath catching in his chest at the captivating way she laughs, how her nose crinkles and eyes light up. The way her hair drapes against the curve of her neck, tantalizing in the most frustrating way. Each time she approaches him and so graciously offers to let him feed on her - well, he begins to find himself fantasizing more and more about coming to her tent earlier in the evening.

When she’s still awake, he thinks. This time welcoming the thought.

Soon it starts to become a problem. The others are noticing, he’s not sure if she has too. Tav hasn’t said anything about it, but he also knows their fearless leader isn’t stupid. How embarrassing, is he actually starting to develop feelings for someone who just sees him as a companion? At best, a loyal friend perhaps. He’s more than okay with that, his fondness for Tav has grown considerably - but he’s not some lovesick puppy. At this point he worries that if he did try to bring it up, he’d push her away. That’s the last thing he wants.

He tries his best to not dwell on what he’d do if she wasn’t around anymore. He loathes to admit the idea scares him.

It all culminates one day in battle. He catches a glimpse of her surrounded by goblins and before he can react to help, she’s knocked them back in one blow. It’s beautiful the way she fights, so focused and intense. So powerful. The only thing on her mind is to keep moving forward, to keep protecting her allies - her friends. Pushing on until every single danger has been handled and every enemy eviscerated.

Suddenly he’s hit hard with a thunderwave spell, throwing him through the air and knocking the wind out of him. His ears are ringing and all he can do is lie on the ground trying to pull breath into his lungs. He admonishes himself while trying to get his bearings - idiot, how could he let himself get so distracted?

His eyes come to focus on Tav, sprinting in his direction as fast as he’s ever seen her run. In two hits she cuts down the nearby sorcerer who had aimed their attack at him. She’s suddenly by his side, a hand on his shoulder with a concerned look on her face. It's not fair, she’s even beautiful covered in blood and wearing that worried expression. He never stood a chance, he realizes.

She trusts the others to finish off the last couple enemies across the field. Crouched next to him and training her eyes intently on his, she asks him if he’s okay, where it hurts. He sees something in her face that he’s only seen a few times, true fear.

It’s ridiculous but the only thing he feels in that moment is an unbearable pressure in his chest.

Later that night while patching their wounds, Tav finds her way next to him. They sit in silence for a few moments before she says, “I was really worried about you out there today.” She pauses then continues on, “You scared me.”

He’s taken aback for a second, eventually saying, “While I appreciate the concern, I can handle myself just as well as anyone else here.” It comes out too harsh.

He pivots and puts on a smile, joking in a lighter tone, “Despite what it looked like today that is - I was actually just having a little mid-battle rest. Couldn’t you tell?”.

She chuckles, “My deepest apologies, how could I ever have thought otherwise.” Pausing again she bites her lower lip thoughtfully for a moment. When she continues it's with a more serious tone, but he can still see a small smile on her lips. “You know I wouldn’t dream of questioning your tactics, but how about you let me know next time you want to..rest..during battle. So I can at least watch your back.” she finishes sheepishly.

That is not what he was expecting her to say. He can’t help but think, why does it always feel like she’s pulling the rug out from under his feet. He can’t take it anymore.

He turns his gaze to look her directly in the eyes before he says, “I froze out there today because I was an idiot”, there's an obvious frustration behind it. “I lost focus and I can’t say for sure it won’t happen again.”

Now she’s surprised, “What do you mean? Is everything okay?” a furrow in her brow forming.

He takes a shaky breath in - here it comes. “Tav, I was distracted because I was looking at you. I -", he gathers his thoughts, "Sometimes it feels impossible to take my eyes off you.”

He continues on in a quieter, more vulnerable voice, “I care about you more than I ever thought I would.” He looks away as the words spill from his lips, “More than I thought I could. It’s not something I’m familiar with, whatever these feelings are. But I know they’re feelings for you.”

More resolute he looks back at her face, taking it in for a moment, “Real feelings, not just a role I’m playing. It's new territory for me.” He braces himself, “If you don’t feel the same way I understand, it’s really no problem. I just..couldn’t take another moment without you knowing.”

Tav searches his face, he’s not sure what she’s looking for. Suddenly she moves closer.

Very seriously she looks at him and says, “I care about you too Astarion, you’re a very special person to me.”

His heart soars, hope buzzing in his stomach and that unmistakable feeling he hasn’t been able to identify rises in his chest once again.

He gingerly places one hand on her neck, drawing her towards him, stroking her jawline with his thumb. Looking into her eyes he sees it on her face, she wants him too. He leans forward to meet her, placing a tender kiss on her lips as if this spell will break at any second. She smiles into it - that damned smile that’s been driving him crazy.

He kisses her a little more passionately, lavishing the feeling of her lips on his.

He pulls away and stares at her face one more time. They both break into a grin and his nerves calm as he lets out a small laugh.

Today is not the day he puts a name to the feeling that has spread from his chest and into the rest of his body, but he has a feeling it will come to him soon enough.

[songsofbloodandwater]

To make a chthonic tincture.

The main goal of this preparation is to make a tincture to cleanse, strengthen and protect bone remains that serve as a vessel for Spirit Allies, but it can also be used to cleanse and consecrate any tools to be used exclusively for necromancy and spirit work.

Pine, cypress, frankincense and myrrh are traditional allies of the necromancer. Both pine and cypress are honored as perennials who represent the eternal soul, and their resins hold powerful chthonic associations aswell as antiseptic and consolidating properties that help preserve bone remains. Some believe their wood does not rot, and that due to that their resins have properties that sustain and elevate the Spirit of our Allies.

Myrrh is antiseptic too, since old it has been used as an offering to the Dead and Deities, and it is known to act as a medium that lifts the veil for Spirits to communicate effectively.

Frankincense is antimicrobial, spiritually purifying, casting away malevolent spirits. It can be an offering aswell as induce trance and ease communication both strengthening, elevating, the Spirits and enhancing our psychic senses.

Thyme gives the Spirits strength, it is revitalizing aswell as protective, warding against unwanted spirits.

Wormwood is purifying, protective, trance inducing aswell as traditionally associated with dreams, inviting the Spirit to communicate with us through them.

Rosemary, much like the others, is purifying, protective, and additionally an ally of the Mind and memory, so it may benefit the Spirits in refreshing their memory and sharpening their mind, aswell as our own ability to remember our experiences in spirit contact.

Together, these allies help to maintain bone, neutralize and prevent odors or further decay, as much as they strengthen and enliven the Spirits and ease our communication with them in various ways.

Other allies, such as storax (clearing and vigorously protective), cedar (another perennial, antiseptic, protective), mugwort (spirit communication, dreams) or clove (invigorating, and to fix down the Spirit) can be used. Use what is ancestrally significant to you, what is available in your area, allow your Spirit senses and intuition to guide you to the right Allies, informed by traditional folklore and knowledge.

Preparation:

On a New Moon, after the sun has gone down, lay down your working altar space and call on your Allies. Burn incense. Invite any Deities of the Dead of your pantheon or tradition and give your offerings to them, including food and drink. Once you've finished your preparation, you'll want to leave these offerings outside, at a crossroads, by a river or the ocean, or at the cemetery, according to your tradition and the Spirits/Deities involved.

Using a mortar and pestle, reduce the following ingredients to a powdered mix: 1 gram of cypress resin, 1 gram of pine resin, 1 gram of frankincense and 1 gram of myrrh. Add 2 grams of thyme, 2 grams of rosemary and 2 grams of wormwood. Once they're well mixed, pour inside your airtight bottle and cover with 200 ml of alcohol 96%, close and give it a good shake. Let it sit for a whole lunar cycle in a cold dark place, shaking daily. When you do that, actually, you may take a few moments to say a prayer for the Dead each night, treat it as a sort of novena. On the next new moon, filter and store away in an airtight dark bottle.

This tincture can be tweaked a bit into other chthonic preparations. You can add a few drops of this tincture to jojoba oil to make a rubbing oil to spiritually cleanse bone remains (like the Purge Oil described here) or to strengthen them prior to a working or communication, with the added benefits that the tincture can last you up to 2-5 years if stored correctly, where an infused oil could go bad sooner, and oil doesn't really extract all the goodies from resins as well as alcohol does. Adding red ochre, dragon's blood resin and a bit of red wine you can make a fine tincture to paint and "redden" bone remains.

It will be sticky and any tools that touch this will likely need to be cleaned with alcohol afterwards. Apply a few coats of the tincture to the bones at a time, two or three, and leave to dry well after each coating. Applying this chthonic tincture to your Allies is better accompanied by an offering (water, wine or other preferred alcoholic drink, and food such as bread) and a lit candle that will sit right by as you let the coating dry, and perhaps a prayer.

[justrandomtrashes]

i made it...

Upload AO3 done!

This text was translated using a translation tool. Please understand that there may be grammatical errors, awkward sentences, or typos.

The train began to move.

Everything had returned to normal. The Termina festival ended with the ascension and mercy of the machine god Logic, and there was no longer any need to kill innocent people.

Sitting in the train speeding away from the ruins of Freheville, Pav pulled out a crumpled photo from his pocket. He had barely survived, but his family hadn’t. Pav kept recalling the scenes of his precious family and neighbors being brutally trampled and violated by the Bremen military. It was the only way he could sharpen the blade of revenge aimed at Kaiser. But Kaiser had disappeared like a summer urban legend. At the very least, Pav should have inflicted a mortal wound, but he couldn’t do anything. Over a decade had passed since he enlisted in the army of the enemy he despised, and now, he had no idea what he needed to do to save his tormented soul. Should he return to his homeland? Would the people of his home welcome Pav, who was, in the end, little more than a traitor who turned his back on his country? Carefully, Pav folded the picture in half. The bright smiles of his much younger siblings disappeared with the crease. He didn’t know who to blame. The plan he had prepared for so long had failed, but his body was still intact. He would track down Kaiser’s whereabouts. Just as his thirst for revenge flared once more, he heard a rustling sound.

When Marcoh realized Pav had no place to return to, he awkwardly scratched the back of his head. His habit of feeling sympathy for someone in dire straits, even a war criminal, was hard to shake. Karin, the woman they had met in Preheville, scolded Marcoh, asking how he could feel sympathy for someone who had almost killed him with a bullet. She pressed hard to interrogate Pav about the Bremen Empire's military experiments.

"I don’t like women who talk too much," Pav said, waving his hand dismissively at Karin, treating her like a bothersome insect. The few people trying to calm her fiery temper looked rather pitiable.

Surrounded by the crowd that eyed him warily, Pav silently listened as they debated what to do with him. "The war’s over, so why bother?" someone muttered. Others argued back. Pav buried his face into the velvet couch, pretending to sleep. He neither defended himself nor expressed anger; he just endured the stones of hatred and pity silently. "The war is over." The words circled in his mind like flies on rotting food.

"I might be able to help you."

Pav’s head snapped around at the voice. Marcoh. The big man, with fists like meat hammers, spoke up. "I have a sister. She lives in a villa..." And? So what? "I could ask if you could stay there." You’re serious? "After all, you weren’t truly part of the Bremen army, not in your heart. I’ve done things I didn’t want to do, too." Pav felt a surge of irritation at the thought that Marcoh felt some kind of kinship with him. Don’t look at me with pity, he shot back in an exasperated tone. "I’m not doing this because I pity you. I just want to give you a chance." Marcoh had long since made up his mind. He was a man of strong conviction, and there would be nothing Pav could do to disappoint him now.

He wasn’t particularly devout, but he was a follower of Allmer. When he was young and working as a shoeshiner to buy sneakers for his younger sister, the clear chimes of the prayer hall intrigued him. He would push open the grand doors and face the imposing statues and crosses that even the thugs in the alley dared not challenge. That was when Marcoh began to believe in God. To be precise, he hoped that if God existed, He would protect his only family, his sister, and give him the courage to survive in the mire of the Vatican orphanage. Even if he adapted to reality, it didn’t mean he shouldn’t have hope. Marcoh dreamed of traveling the world with his sister someday. Though it seemed an unlikely dream given their financial situation, imagination was not a crime, and he could wish for it in his heart. If given the chance, he wanted to taste various gelatos around the world and become a zoologist.

Pav found Marcoh somewhat bothersome. Despite his size, Marcoh was very naive and immune to worldly affairs. Even after moving between the slums of the Vatican and underground arenas, he always flustered when dealing with elderly people in need. His naivety led to him being pickpocketed multiple times, and Pav had to chase away scammers who targeted Marcoh. Moreover, Marcoh had a fondness for small animals and often had a flushed face. Contrary to his mafia-like appearance, Marcoh was a man with a kind heart.

Pav, on the other hand, was different. He wasn’t cunning from birth, but he had a knack for sneaking into his father’s wallet to buy pistachio ice cream or inserting himself into the pecking order disguised as boys’ games. Pav’s mother would often smile with a girl-like laugh when she saw him bouncing around restlessly like a frog, unable to endure boredom. Although Pav’s mischief was annoying, the negative feelings melted away because he was family. Pav’s father was often busy and rarely home, leaving the task of taking care of Pav and his siblings mostly to their mother. Pav would watch his mother’s back as she handled the household chores alone. “You’re the eldest, so you must grow up to be reliable,” his mother would say, gently stroking Pav’s golden hair.

Golden baptismal light shines like a nebula in the reed fields of nostalgia. The fresh scent of his hometown lingers at the tip of Pav's nose. He slowly opens his eyelids and kicks the blanket off with his foot. Again, it’s that damned dream. The past he thought was forgotten has once again gnawed at him like a rat eating poison. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his forehead, Pav gets up and walks to the kitchen. Marcoh’s sister has probably gone out to work at the laundromat. Pav’s room is located at the far right end of the house, so it’s rare that he encounters her. Although Marcoh had warmly accepted Pav living in the same house, which made Pav dislike her less, he still didn’t approach her much. Despite her short bob and refreshing appearance making her an attractive woman, Pav, who had a lascivious side, was deterred by Marcoh’s evident affection for her. It was curious that she seemed content with their current poor and mundane life, and Pav found the siblings either naive or foolish, looking down on them with disdain.

Even at Marcoh’s cheerful “Good morning,” Pav remained indifferent, rolling his eyes without saying much. Marcoh had become almost too polite, a stark contrast to the sly Bremen officer Pav had encountered in Freheville. No, it wasn’t politeness but rather indifference. Given that his plans to end his life had collapsed and he had nothing left to lose, it was no wonder he had let go of any hopes. After seeing the village become a mess of fires and shells while fetching water for his whiny younger sibling, Pav had grown pessimistic about everything. He had become skilled at being sarcastic and remained cynical, just like he had been in the train. The only person who saw any potential for redemption in him was Marcoh. Pav scoffed at Marcoh, as if to say, “People can’t be fixed.” When Marcoh diligently wiped the dust from the surface with a damp cloth, Pav clicked his tongue. (His habit of clicking his tongue, it seemed, was unshakable.)

Breakfast is served on the table. Pav pokes at the mashed potatoes and dry bread with a fork while observing Marcoh’s expression. He looks as serene as a monk. In truth, Marcoh was conscious of Pav but didn’t want to show too much sympathy for fear of making Pav uncomfortable. On the other hand, he was concerned about him. Whether as a new family member or a friend, Marcoh wondered if Pav could endure the ambiguous relationship. It felt like bringing a rebellious stray dog into the house. Marcoh understood Pav’s resistance to this difficult situation, as he too remembered the war and saw why Pav, who never loosened his vigilance, was so cold. PTSD. It was probably that. Although Marcoh didn’t know the exact nature of post-traumatic stress disorder, being a clump of sticky mud from over ten years in the battlefield, Pav’s coldness was understandable. Marcoh felt as though Pav’s wandering was somehow his own fault.

But it was Pav who broke the silence that filled the dining room. "Why don’t you say something? Sitting here like this makes it seem like we’ve had some kind of marital spat." He set his fork down on his plate and leaned back in his chair, arms comfortably draped over the armrests. The atmosphere was so heavy it was ruining his appetite.

"Uh... thanks. For starting the conversation." Marcoh, now faced with the challenge of keeping the dialogue going, scratched his head. He wasn’t as articulate as Levi, whose mind was unsettled by the long war. The sight of Marcoh struggling to pull together something to say so as not to miss the chance for a smoother relationship seemed pitiable to Pav.

"Oh, don’t mention it. How's the gym going?" Marcoh looked surprised that Pav showed interest in him and put down his utensils.

"I’ve taken it over. The previous owner was moving away."

"Is that so." Marcoh didn’t say “Good for you.” Pav’s manners had long been mixed with cow manure in the Boronya reed fields.

The silence was so profound that even the sound of eating was absent, making the air extremely awkward. Marcoh had to activate his brain again to come up with some plausible topic.

"...Do you regret it?" Regret what? Pav’s busy hands suddenly stopped like a red traffic light.

"No." He chewed the morsels in his mouth a few times before swallowing them. The plate was clean. Marcoh’s cooking wasn’t half bad.

"You must be thinking that I can't adapt here and that I resent you for bringing me into this place..." The pendulum clock ticked away.

"That’s not true." I don’t regret anything. Not joining the army of the one I hate, not following you.

So don’t pity me. Pav stared at the empty plate for a moment before getting up from his chair. His sapphire-like blue eyes fixed on Marcoh.

"I’m going to live on. You gave me a chance. And I’ll kill Kaiser. By any means necessary." Pav curled one corner of his mouth into a slight smile. It wasn’t a smirk. It was a reassuring smile.

"So don’t try to please me like a frightened puppy. That’s even more irritating. ...Oh, one more thing, sprinkle some sugar on the bread. I like it sweet." Marcoh nodded in understanding. Pav went back to his room.

It was the same breakfast as usual. Marcoh was a little pleased that he might be able to make meat stew for dinner tonight.

[aluria-sevhex]

posting's been more infrequent because i feel like i've hit a bit of a harder spot with figuring shit out and also have had less mental energy ig :P

update: fuck man it's been like over a week since i intended to post this and i also feel bad for not doing art fight stuffs or working on other projects... what not leaving the house much for a few weeks does to an mf apparently:

[Hi stardust!~ All of the posts in this series can be found in this masterpost and are tagged as #Aluria plays ISAT for the first time (please don't spoil)]

notes:

-i'm back bitch :3

-waiting for it to load and the sweet sweet title theme to hit my ears

-YEAHHHHHHHH

-i always let it finish :3

-time to help everybody

-this time i decided to ask Charline for the book. Odile now thinks Sif is sus! which. yeah.

-"You don't have to remember to yell" :(

-hehe Sif is now asking Loop if they have any theories on the loops

-"Your name is LITERALLY 'Loop'."

-"Don't you 'teehee' me."

-yeah! why don't time freeze skills count as death!

-"what if you loop when something keeps you from advancing?" good theory, but what about the loops where i got stuck in the house on floor 3? i didn't immediately loop back... then again there are the small few-minute loops...

-O_O. HANG OUT WITH LOOP???

-yeah sure i didn't really have any plans for this loop

-i climbed the tree and uh. this music is kinda ominous

-how did Loop 'kind of' know about Sif before they met?

-why did Loop choose to help Sif?

-Loop is stuck with Siffrin... and seems to have been in a time loop before?

-guys i don't think Loop is fine

-yeah Loop tell me about YOU

- >:P

-what'll happen- OH. LOOP. BRUH.

-"it makes you see something, doesn't it?" yeah. "you see a vision of the future"

-Sif is breaking down :(

-SIFFRIN JUST PULLED OUT THEIR DAGGER

-hm. why did i loop if i didn't die?

-aight time to talk to Isabeau

-i love this scene

-...everybody is suspicious of my apparent grace and good attacking skills ._.

-"I'm as tall as you, Mira..."

Mira: looks at their shoes

-funny how Isa's 'worst-case scenario' for uses of Time Craft is... exactly what Siffrin is doing

-inverted Six of Pentacles?

-ah yes. a pit-iful experience

-after i checked the gardening closet, Odile said something's weird...

-checked the book and Isa noticed something off

-i've been trying to make things as suspicious as possible

-hm... what *is* the deal with the book in the secret library? with the tree on the cover and it's in the headache language

-...the book on shields has the weird sugar smell?

-i feel like shields that reflect attacks will become important later

-what if things that have been tampered with all smell like Time Craft? like the various equipment that you can pick up? and that's part of the weirdness?

-sheesh, Tear You Apart is really effective

-bathroom again

-Sif is once again claiming they're fine

-huh. i didn't see the ghost this time

-tried to sharpen the keyknife. Isa made a comment about Sif usually saying something when he sharpens things, but he can't remember

-hm... where would i find carving tools

-"In this moment, you are loved."

"(Because you forced them to.)" FUCK THAT'S. OOF.

-*sighs* time to talk to Euphrasie again

-the others noticed me again...

-"in this moment, she loves you!"

"in this moment, he loves you!"

"in this moment, they love you!"

"in this moment, she loves you!"

FUCK.

-Sif's sad hollow smile and big eye...

-"they all love you!"

"isn't it wonderful"

"you could do this forever!!!"

-"you're happy to have helped everyone become the best versions of themselves again!"

-lol Sif called Loop awkward

-"because you're what's left" of what???

-Sif is level 75 now...

-stopping for now

[natedraws]

Hello my friend! I hope today is treating you well! I saw you draw with Crayola crayons, and I want to start too! Do you have any tips and tricks? and how do you get over mistakes you make while drawing, how do you even correct/ erase crayons? Thank you so much for your time!

Hello!! This is going to sound very boring but I actually don't have any tips, I am very big on coloring I never stopped throught my whole life so I have been using crayons a good long while...only just recently have I started with traditional art ( and using them in it as well because actual artist crayons are very expensive!! )

I think the joy of using them is just being okay with imperfection. They are not precise tools so it probably isn't gonna turn out the way you looked in your head. As for correcting or erasing...I do not think that is a thing you can do haha. I have a rule for my traditional art in general that I just gotta go for it, if I don't like how it turned out / feel I can do better I'll just re-start the whole thing completely ( I have done very few actual colored pieces traditionally and this has never happened - I think that's why I find it especially therapeutic because I am free to just...make imperfect things! ). The only thing I can think of that I do to make the process easier is I usually go in with a pencil sharpener ( a real one, not the one that is blunt and made of plastic ) to sharpen the tips if I want to

A crayon is a childrens tool so treat yourself like a child! Turn your brain off! Draw whatever your soul calls you to! Experiment, have fun!

I'd also have a look at all the different types of crayons there are too, the ones I use are Crayola crayons, Crayola twistables, and occasionally Bambino crayons ( not a big fan of the texture but are more "artists quality" ). Hopefully this helps a little bit!!

[mercless]

the powder witch exclaims: ' ... a blade ? for the love of ... hell , might as well just go and threaten her with it then at that point . ' fingers attempt to smooth the crinkle in her brow as she shakes her head . ' nothin' wrong with a — ' her head jerks towards him , and though talon cannot see it from their angle , whatever look she gives the hunter has him retract his voice at once , hands up in front of him before he folds his arms over his chest . from where he sits , casted off to the side of the conversation , he restlessly starts to bounce his leg . she turns back to talon , regarding them for a few heavy seconds , as if she's a gambler deciding what to do with a losing hand , before she deflates with a sigh . ' thought you , of all folks , would have some decent advice on winnin' someone over . ' after saying this , she whips to look back at yone , who knows well enough to behave but is almost waiting for her with a smile , disingenuous smile . @windchaser

A rare look of hurt pulls at the demon's features at the cruel dismissal of their idea. Lips pursing together and brows casting a forlorn light across their sullen features. Personally, they thought a well sharpened, balanced blade made for a fine personal gift. One they would have been perfectly content in recieving. And it had taken a lot of thought, paired with plenty of hemming and humming, and a lowering of their boundaries to even offer such an idea. It meant you cared for someone's wellbeing, and that you trusted them not to use it on you when your back was turned. At least, that's what Talon would have it mean, if they were ever give someone a present of worth. Admittedly, it would also be a first.

As eyes flicker over to the gunslinger's muttering, surprised yet appeased that there was some agreement between them, rare as a blue moon as it was. At the very least, it soothes the pain from where their heart had been hit with Rell's decline of their thoughtful idea. The other two's theatrics almost brought a smile back to their downturned lips with how endearing it all was. Wordlessly they meet the young witch's scrutiny as her focus returns. Eyes filled with bewilderment and a raised brow wait for her next move. In truth, they still didn't know what she was expecting out of a demon, beyond that initial anger at their mere existence; whether a guide, a friend, or some poor creature to drag along for amusement, to ask any unusual question or teasing remark from her imagination. Perhaps this was Talon's own doing since they hadn't made it clear that creating close relations wasn't really a tool in their arsenal of collected knowledge. But to say aloud that these two held the titles of 'the mortal creatures the demon had spent longest, consistent time around' sounded like an admittance they weren't ready to make.

"Don't think you're wanting the specifics on my techniques for that kind of ploy." Talon finally speaks again, grumbling cautiously. "Not exactly involving the path taken to long-lasting relations." Their glower is directed past Rell, toward that wicked smile, mighty despite not being the one asked for advice. But there was no reason for that pointed remark. Crunching beneath the touch, sun-bleached strands are moved to the side as a grimace cracks across their face. It doesn't hold for long, the disingenuous feeling leaving a sour taste on their tongue. "I think you'll be better off lookin' for a source of experience with a little more humanity," Head hung in defeat, their hat's cant gives away the demon's attention turning instead to the middle horizon, "Instead of us lonesome souls."