#handwriting tips and tricks

[rawbiredbest]

[author-mandi-bean]

I NEVER EVER want to be accused of phoning it in -- not in my writing life, my professional life, or my life. So how can I make sure this doesn't happen? Writer Lisa Rogak has some suggestions.

[mythrilthread]

My magnum opus, the jewel of my Binderary round-up, the result of four months of hard work (that is to say, a lot of force applied over distance), the project affectionately known as The Motherfuckers (because it was rather unclear if I was going to finish these books or if they were going to be the end of me).

Force over Distance by cleanwhiteroom. It is currently also on AO3.

I was first introduced to this incredible story by a dear friend, who first sold me on actually watching SGU, and then said that they remember this fic since like 2011, which is always a promising sign. I went digging and found out I was in luck - the story was being rewritten and reuploaded on the author's blog. The next two weeks are described by the same friend as "one of the scariest moments in our cohabitation" as I'd spent literally every waking moment injecting the story directly into my eyeballs, and let me tell you, I'd not been doing a lot of sleeping at that time.

Then I gathered up my courage and reached out to CWR re: my burning desire to bind this story. And the rest, well. Let's dig into it, shall we?

This was my first time typesetting 540k words. Considering I tend to prefer larger font sizes for increased legibility, it was immediately obvious that this was going to be a multivolume project. I settled on three, as it's the relationship between three individuals that forms the core of the story.

I also knew I wanted to keep the typeset in black and white, but play around with light and dark a lot. So I did. One of the first design idea I actually had was the way I wanted to handle projected speech. Mental link between Young, Rush and Destiny is THE most vital part of the story, and I wanted to make it immediatly obvious. I also wanted to be able to take one glance at the page and tell how much of the action is actually just two guys staring each other down :) Hence the blackout effect of thoughts being represented as light over darkness.

I also wanted to preserve as much of my reading experience as possible. So I saved all the chapter quotes/summaries in the TOC, and hid the chapter content warnings in the frame of the gate that marks the beginning of each chapter. For most of the chapter the warnings stay the same, so after a while you stop really noticing them, but then you open a new chapter and see that the familiar shape of the words has changed, and get this UH-OH feeling. Which, I think is very much how it works in my design, because when the warnings change there's usually another line of text added.

For flashbacks and dream sequences I switched from italics to a lighter shade of gray. I woudn't say it's more legible per say, but it's in keeping with the overall light/dark theme.

There are instances of people using handwritten notes in the story. I collected more than a dozen of assorted handwriting fonts, with each character having their own "handwriting". So when, for example, someone begins writing in someone else's hand, you immediately know it.

The most insane, labor-intensive part of the typeset, however, was the way I decided to handle the Ancient translations. CWR's gone through the trouble of setting up hover-to-discover for it, which gives you a very different reading experience than, say, having the translations in the endnotes. So, naturally, I said to myself that I want to replicate that, and footnotes just won't do the trick. So. Every instance of Ancient in the text has an underlay of light gray Ancient script. And an OVERLAY of paper vellum with the translation printed in blue. Now, not to toot my own horn too much, but if looks SICK AS FUCK. You also MAYBE SHOULD NOT LIVE LIKE THIS. For the two copies of this work I had to cut up 10 sheets of vellum into strips, and then spent from 20 minutes to an hour per volume tipping the strips in their proper places. I then had to wear kinetic tape on both my hands to help with the joint pain. (It was worth it.)

Now for the title spread. It is also paper vellum that you see as soon as you turn the first page (the half-title), and see it covering the title of the book and author's name. And then you turn it. And the shields sing the matter wave of Destiny through the black. And yeah, I think that's very, very clever of me, actually.

Then, of course, were the endpapers. All 12 of them are unique abstract paintings done on black cardstock by hand with brush pens and correction tape, I scanned a sample of each set for posterity. All of them are my interpretations of characters' midscapes. For volume 1 I went with the fire wind of Rush's thoughts. Volume 2 was for Young, and I went for the reverse blackout poetry effect (because for all the mental talking they do, the unprojected thoughts are opaque to their counterparts) and all the loops, hairpins and blocks he does. Volume 3 is for the combination - Rush's fire wind, changing its color to match the circuitry pattern of Destiny's AI.

The rest, in comparison, is easy. All volumes are stitched with 3 strands of embroidery floss, a combination of black, blue and silvery-gray. The French double-core endbands are sewn in the same color scheme (though with a different shade of blue and gray switched for white for added contrast). The edges are painted and splattered to look like space.

The covers feature my (signature at this point, I guess) half-cloth river pattern, with the base being dark blue linen and the printed parts being Spitzer telescope images of the W51 star forge, Jack-O'-Lantern Nebula and the Eagle Nebula (courtesy of NASA), waxed by hand for added sheen. The spines are foiled in silver with a foil quill.

Each set is 5 pound of solid hand-crafted book, with one set being my personal copy, and the other sent as a gift to the author.

And that's it, folks! This has been an incredible project to work on, and I'm very proud of what I achieved with it.

[kingmlem]

Can't get the idea of Bobby and his food influences out of my head... So, have this. It took on a mind of its own after thinking of Buck sad and eating Bobby's Mac and cheese at 3am.

Buck trying to cook for the first time after Bobby's death and it just... Tastes wrong.

Where it's 3am and the only thing he'd been able to choke down was maybe half a sandwich, and he's desperately seeking that taste of home so he goes to a tried and true Bobby recipe.

And he makes it perfectly. It looks the same, smells the same, makes his stomach growl because it's Bobby's cooking-

Except when he eats it, it's wrong. It tastes like ash, tastes like nothing- he has to have done something wrong, right? Maybe left something out, maybe went too heavy with something he shouldn't have?

And of course, his first instinct is to text Bobby for the recipe, regardless of the time. Bobby's been the recipient of more than a few early morning phone calls, this shouldn't be a problem. Maybe Athena will give him a little bit of shit for it in that admonishing tone of hers, but-

It hits him as soon as he opens the conversation.

He can't.

Because Bobby won't answer.

Bobby can't answer.

Because Bobby's-

Bobby's gone.

The realization leaves him numbed, like it always does. He gravitates back to whatever he made and eats it, as flavorless and colorless as it is. Resigns himself to the idea that food might just be this way now, but eats it anyway because he knows it's what Bobby would want.

That's how Tommy finds him, and how Tommy's own exhaustion echoes Buck's. How he'd watch Buck silently falling apart over this food for a minute before also dishing out a bit for himself.

Thinking about how Buck would probably try to warn Tommy that it's wrong but can't find the words. They don't say anything to each other as Tommy sits directly next to Buck, legs spread in order to knock their knees together under the small table.

When Tommy takes the first bite of whatever it is, and immediately has to choke back tears because that's Bobby's recipe. Tommy breaking down silently, for an entirely different reason, because that was the taste of family. The only taste of family and the comforts of family he's really known. Thinking of how Tommy associates the taste, on some level, with the first real taste of freedom he's had.

Thinking about how they finish what Buck made, no words exchanged and only the scraping of forks/spoons on plates/bowls breaking the silence. At some point they move together, pressing together from shoulder to ankle, warm and alive.

How much different their experiences are with this grief, but also how down the line they merge. How Buck starts cooking Bobby's recipes but adding his own flair to it, how he slowly gains the taste back when it stops being Bobby's food and starts being a mix of Bobby and Buck's food. How the dishes adapt and change over months, years, and how it somehow starts tasting more like family to Tommy.

Thinking about family dinners at the station and how the food morphs around Bobby's.

About how even with Bobby gone he's still with them, how their food becomes less Bobby's recipes and more family recipes. That Bobby laid the foundation for them, and he's very much still in each dish, but how everyone's added their own flavors, how it further integrates everyone together.

There's annotated copies of Bobby's core recipes, tips and tricks gathered from the trials and errors of everyone at the firehouse, ingredient replacement/substitutions, some measurement changes for bigger or smaller families. Each copy is a mess of handwriting and stains. Each copy keeps carries the same B.Nash on the bottom of the card, every contributor making sure to leave the signature intact.

[yuurei20]

【Voice Lines Not Included on EN】

A recent Tumblr ask revealed that it seems two lines might be missing from each character's History Lessons on EN?

They have been compiled here!

Featuring: the out-of-ink pen that Leona might have given Vil for his birthday, Ruggie meowing and more!

Proofreading and corrections by Twitter's wonderful irafuwas, thank you so much!

Thank you also to @bi-panicatthedisco for the ask, @cursedgamerchild for all their amazing work on the Twst wiki and YouTube's riika_tw for the EN lesson uploads that were so much help as a reference!

Screenshots for reference:

Riddle: Reviewing is essential. All my hard work has paid off.

Trey: This is quite a mean-spirited question... Pretty good, right?

Cater: Ah, which is it? Shall we aim for a perfect score?

Ace: Oh no! I completely forgot! This is the most basic of basic ♪

Deuce: Okay, which twin is this...? This is the part I reviewed yesterday!

Leona: Tch...my pen's outta ink. Even a warthog would know the answer to this.

Ruggie: Meow, mraow. Shishishi, it's more or less like this!

Jack: This is difficult... I did well.

Azul: An easy game. This is it for the questions?

Jade: I feel Trein-sensei's gaze. Oh, is this all?

Floyd: Ah, it's the thing sensei was talking about. Hey, this is easy ♪

Kalim: I think I just gave myself a headache... I've heard this somewhere before.

Jamil: This one's a trick question. The average score is...around here, I suppose.

Vil: My handwriting is beautiful as well. Nothing less than a perfect score.

Rook: Everyone has a serious expression. Beauté, if I do say so myself.

Epel: I'll just fill in the blanks for now. I'm good at this topic...I think.

Idia: Rote learning's just a waste of time, isn't it? This is easy mode.

Ortho: I can keep answering~ 100% accuracy

Malleus: A story from before I was born. Too easy.

Lilia: Well, I'd forgotten. I should get a gold star for this.

Silver: Crap...I don't know. Hm, this must be it.

Sebek: Ugh! My pen tip has been crushed! I'll get a perfect score, just you watch!

Grim: I just had an epiphany! Ha ha ha ha!

[jynxeddraca]

Small, Soft BG3 Things

Just an ongoing list of small headcanons for Team Tadpole.

Astarion:

Astarion learned how to sew and embroider from his mother. She loved to embroider poems that she sold at market. Most of his word based embroidery looks like her handwriting, even though he doesn't remember that.

He's the go-to member of Team Tadpole for mending because he's the best out of all of them at it. More importantly: as he comes to view them as friends, the basic mending is supplemented with subtle embroidery.

Every child that he ends up spending time around learns some slight of hand trick and/or how to use a knife.

When everyone is asleep and he's particularly at ease, he'll quietly sing to himself while doing other things.

Gale:

As the self-appointed cook - come time to set up camp, Gale might fuss about the bizarre assortment of food stuff they find on their travels, but he secretly revels in the challenge of making filling, delicious foods out of what they're able to scavenge.

Cooking was how his mother and him bonded as he grew up so now it's his favorite way of showing affection/appreciation to others.

Spoils Tara with all her favorite foods when they're reunited (also I headcanon Tara joins the camp most nights in Act 3).

When he was younger, he specifically created an enchantment to enchant his mother's favorite rocking chair so that when it was activated, mage hands would appear and give her shoulders and feet a massage.

Halsin:

He learned to whittle from an uncle and the knife he uses today for his carvings was given to him by his mother - whose favorite animal was ducks.

Halsin likes to go sit in Bloomridge park when the city gets to him, taking Yenna with him if she's agreeable. He has taught her and several other random children how to braid flower crowns.

When he returns to Reithwin Town, he teaches Art how to whittle and Art teaches Halsin how to play the lute.

On nights where Halsin is keeping watch will offer to turn pages for Tara so she can read a book or two.

Jaheira:

Will turn into a cat/dog to give comfort to children if they are inconsolable.

Takes an afternoon with Halsin - both in wildshape - to show him how nature and the city can be more harmonious than he originally thought.

The lullaby she knows how to play on the tin whistle was one taught to her by her late husband - she has put all her children to sleep to it's tune.

Teases Tara about her treating Gale like her kitten.

The rats that show up in camp do give her updates on other Harpers - but most of the time they are updates about her children.

Karlach:

Clive - her teddy bear - was knitted by her mother and she considers him her 'good luck charm'. Before the infernal engine was forced onto her, he could often be found tucked into Karlach's belt at any given point of the day or in her purse/pouch.

Karlach almost left Avernus without Clive, and risked missing the Nautiloid to go back to grab him.

Because she calls Halsin "Bear Man" Arabella starts calling him that too. At the same time, Karlach starts calling Withers "Bone Man" because of Arabella.

Her parents used to dance around the living room with her - in camp she'll get Arabella and later, Yenna, to do the same. When she's especially energetic, she makes Wyll join her.

Lae'zel:

While she originally hates everything about Faerûn, she becomes especially fond of the sunrises and finds she enjoys sunflowers.

After the egg is acquired, she does softly sing an old githyanki lullaby to when she tends to it.

Because she feels it is an important skill to have for when the egg hatches, she learns to sew by watching Astarion. Eventually, she asks him for tips.

Lae'zel seems well-read (on githyanki literature anyways) in my opinion so I feel like even though she's a very skilled fighter, she also spent much of her time in the creche library growing up. In camp, she raids Gale's library bag often.

When Karlach started calling her 'Lae', she began referring to Karlach as 'Kar'.

Minsc and Boo:

When Boo isn't around Minsc, he spends time around Shadowheart curled up on her shoulder or sitting beside her as she meditates.

Amused that it baffles people who can speak with animals, Boo purposefully does not allow them to understand him and sticks with his telepathic communications with Minsc.

Minsc enjoys finding excuses to tell stories and is a good storyteller.

Teaches Tav a few Rashemen songs and stories.

Minsc and Boo both have a faint smell of warm stone about them due to being statues for a while.

Shadowheart:

When meditating, sometimes unknowingly hums an old lullaby her parents used to sing her.

Still sometimes mutters "Lady of Sorrows" when exasperated, and at one point while very tired said "Lady of Sil-rrows" instead.

Has started keeping seeds and nuts on hand for Boo.

Talking to Astarion and Halsin in Elvish is soothing to her, and sometimes it triggers memories of her father.

Tav:

Was gifted a stuffed bunny by her dad when she was a baby. His name is Biscuit.

Biscuit was handed down to Temerity (Tav's little sister) while they were in the orphanage and he currently lives on Temerity's pillow.

Tav and Karlach have introduced Clive (Karlach's teddy bear) to Biscuit.

The smell of leather oil reminds her of her father.

Wyll:

Has a soft spot in his heart for trashy romance novels and anything related to mermaids. An aside: even though he hasn't been home in years, the merfolk around Baldur's Gate remember him fondly as a child trying to swim deep enough to see them.

Actually enjoys debating Astarion about laws and their effects - even though they have wildly different views on the laws.

Has a secret tattoo, and yes, it's mermaid themed.

Offered to teach Lae'zel to use a rapier if she showed him how to wield a longsword.

Also enjoys cooking and likes to show Gale different ways to season/cook in the wilds.

The rapier he has at the start of the game was gifted to him by his father.

[five-oh-thirst]

Springtime Woes

Pairing: Ordo/Maze

Summary: It's mating season, and Ordo is struggling with his body's instinctual needs while Maze is trying to keep his patience in check.

Tags & Warnings: 18+, NSFW, omegaverse, established relationship, mates, mating cycles/heat, alpha!maze, omega!ordo, smut, riding, knotting, rough kissing, bickering/arguing, referenced breeding, referenced m!preg, domestic, light angst, fluff, humor

Word Count: 4.7k

Notes: Happy birthday, @mamuzzy!!! 🥳 I really hope you like what I made 💙 I got permission from ithilia to use this art piece as the header because it kind of matched a scene 🫶🏻 My inspiration for the fic came from a highly unusual source, an episode of Bonanza (an American Western TV show from the 60s). Specifically, the first three minutes of this episode 😂 I'm gonna say loosely inspired, lol.

Prompt Day 6 - AU @ordomaze2024

Read on AO3

Music Vibe:

Maze cracked his stiff neck with a loud pop as he walked towards the beeping caf maker, his eyes barely open as his body moved on auto-pilot. He slept poorly last night thanks to his beloved mate, Ordo. He kept tossing and turning throughout the night and landed several too-well-placed kicks to be considered accidental into Maze's side. It wasn't like it never happened–Ordo was rough with everything, including sleep–but this was too much.

Maze opened the cabinet above the counter and pulled out his favorite mug. It wasn't that pretty, but it was a gift from Ordo, and the words 'GAR's Best Alpha Null' were written in black ink across the white surface. He had to admit it was funny, but Maze thought it would've been smarter to just put 'GAR's Best Captain', so it made sense for both of them to use, but arguing that point wasn't worth it. Arguing any point with Ordo wasn't worth it.

He grabbed the handle of the glass carafe and yawned as he poured its freshly percolated contents into his mug, accidentally overflowing while his eyes were closed. The hot caf spilled over the edge, down the side of the mug, and dripped onto the floor next to his bare feet. He cursed under his breath and placed the mug down on the counter. If this indicated how the rest of his day would go, it would be a bothersome day.

With his right hand, he pulled the towel hanging from the oven handle off and dropped it onto the spilled caf, then used his foot to mop it up because it was too early to exert that much energy before he drank his first mug of caf. Once it was cleaned, he grabbed the mug off the counter, careful not to spill it again, and lowered his lips to suck some off the top so he could walk with it. It was still hot, and he grimaced as it burnt his tongue, but it tasted good.

After a few careful steps, he sat down at the kitchen table and set the mug on the drink coaster Ordo also gave him. This one read 'shabuir' and was clearly in Ordo's handwriting. He then put his glasses on and picked up his data-pad to read the news. The spring solstice had just arrived a few rotations ago, and the news was chock full of headlines like, 'Mating Season Must-Haves', 'How to Boost Your Chances at a Full Litter', and 'Tips and Tricks for First-Timers'.

Maze scoffed and rolled his eyes. He wished one of those stupid articles written by a teenager could help him, but unfortunately, Alpha and Null clones didn't come with basic instruction manuals and all the normal things that normal mates did never worked for them. It wasn't their first mating season, far from it, but the last one was completely miserable for both of them and he hoped this one would be slightly better. A lot of that depended on Ordo.

Speaking of Ordo, the fact that he was still in the bedroom sleeping, and the sun was already shining through the bay window, wasn't a good sign. Morning caf was one of their only civil times together, and if he slept in any later, he'd also miss their mid-morning sparring session. Neither was willing to get soft in front of the other and brawling on a mat to start the day was the best way to prove it. It also was a good way to release pent-up frustration.

The shower afterward always felt good, too. If he won, he could enjoy some hot and steamy shower sex without an argument, but if Ordo won, he usually showered alone. Which wasn't the worst thing he could get for losing. It's not that Ordo didn't like sex, he just didn't like sex with Maze, which also made zero sense. Others, even brothers, found their arrangement odd, but that was their relationship and Maze wouldn't have it any other way.

A loud thud came from the bedroom, and within seconds a sweet and tantalizing aroma wafted past Maze's nose. He scrunched his face and forcefully blew air out of his nostrils to clear the scent before it made its way to his brain. It was pretty powerful, even from a distance, and Maze lifted the mug to his lips to try and mask it. It worked until the hot liquid steamed up his glasses and he couldn't see the news article he was reading.

Several more loud thud came from the bedroom and Maze sighed. Placing his mug down, he got up to see if Ordo was okay. Maker only knew what he was doing in there. As Maze approached the bedroom, the scent drifting out of the open doorway was so strong he choked on it. Maze clamped his fingers around his nose and then flicked the light switch on with the other to shed some light on the situation.

The sight that greeted him made his eyes widen and his jaw drop. Their bedroom looked like it had been hit by a thermal detonator, or two. All the furniture had been moved out of place, but none of it was rearranged, just crooked and unorganized. The bed sheets were falling off the bed, the curtains were halfway off the windows, and their clothing was scattered across the floor. It was as if Ordo attempted to make a nest, but gave up halfway through. 

And then there was Ordo, half-undressed and sprawled out on his back on the bed, like a starfish, with his head hanging over the far edge. His bare chest glistened with sweat and his shorts were visibly damp. He looked completely disheveled and very uncomfortable.

"Null," Maze said, his voice nasally from holding his nose shut.

"Alpha," Ordo answered, not bothering to pick his head up.

"Can you close your legs?" Maze asked. "Your Eau de Omega is leaking out."

Ordo swiped his hand down his sweaty stomach but left his legs where they were. "No. It's too hot."

Maze tilted his head out of the room and looked at the thermostat on the wall. It was set to a nominal temperature and was comfortable to him, but he wouldn't say it was hot. It took a second to click, but when the realization hit him that what he thought was going to happen, was now happening, he leaned against the door frame and sighed. "Of course you're hot. You're going into heat."

Ordo groaned loudly. "Over my dead body."

Maze gave up on keeping Ordo's 'please-mate-with-me' scent away and relinquished his grip on his nose. He took a deep inhale and allowed the strong odor to fill his lungs until his extremities tingled with anticipation. His body shuddered, but he kept his mind in check. It was inevitable at this point and there was no use in trying to ignore it, but his main focus now was getting them both through this mating cycle alive, and with Ordo, that wasn't easy.

He sat down on the edge of the bed next to one of Ordo's outstretched legs and ran his hand down the dampened hair and skin. "You know you can't fight it."

Ordo bent the leg and kicked Maze in the side. "I'm a Null," he said. "I can fight anything."

"Did you forget about last cycle?" Maze asked as he rubbed his side, annoyance already simmering under the surface. He needed to be more careful about touching him.

Ordo was quiet before he responded. "That doesn't count."

Maze smiled knowingly. "And the one before that?"

Ordo sat up, leaving an obvious damp splotch on the bed sheet beneath where he was lying. "This is karking stupid!" he shouted, clearly trying to change the subject from Maze being right and him being wrong. "I wasn't made for this." He scooted forward and leaned his forehead against Maze's back, a deceptively sweet gesture, and panted into his shirt as the heat from his body radiated off of him like the sun.

"Technically, you were," Maze said, noting that it probably still wasn't safe to touch Ordo even though he was touching him. "All the Nulls are omegas."

"And I hate it!" Ordo yelled. He gripped Maze's shirt, clutching the fabric with tight fists. "It's degrading. I'm a cold-blooded killer, not someone's cock-drunk knot-loving baby-making bitch. I'm not gonna push out any stupid babies or push around some karking stroller."

"Do you remember what Kal told you about omegas? Maze asked, trying to redirect his emotions.

Ordo rolled his eyes and groaned into Maze's shoulder blade, biting the shirt there for emphasis.

Maze chuckled. "C'mon, tell me."

"That omegas are highly valued members of Mandalorian society because children and family and blah, blah, blah," Ordo mumbled.

"And you don't think you're a valued member of Mandalorian society?" Maze asked, turning his head slightly to try and get a look at Ordo's face.

"I'm a verd," Ordo argued. "It's different."

Maze snorted. "If you said that to a group of Mandalorian omega warriors, they'd beat your ass into the ground like a tent stake."

Ordo whined and rubbed his sweaty cheek on the piece of shirt he had bitten. "I already know I'm a terrible omega. No need to rub it in…"

Maze sighed and let himself fall backward onto the bed. He landed with a soft plop and laced his fingers together under his head as he stared up at the ceiling fan while his legs dangled over the edge. Ordo was a tough case to crack, and they went around in this same circle every mating season. It was exhausting to constantly reassure Ordo's status as an omega, but it's what he signed up for, and he wasn't about to be called a quitter now.

Ninety-nine percent of modern society was made up of female-oriented omegas, but for some stupid reason, no one fully understood, the Kaminoans decided the first clones would be genetically altered to be male-oriented omegas. Their flawed logic was that they could curb Prime's alpha aggression by splicing his alpha DNA with omega DNA, which statistically would make them more submissive and docile, but it backfired, and the Nulls suffered for it.

Maze turned his head to the side and stretched out his right hand to brush it along Ordo's spine. "Null," he said. Ordo didn't turn around. "Ordo, look at me."

Ordo twisted his torso around to face him and Maze's eyes softened at what he saw. Sweat poured off Ordo's face like raindrops on a window pane, his hair soaked from root to tip, and it looked like he was hiding a painful ache somewhere deep within his body. It wasn't Ordo's fault that he was made like this–an abomination of nature in more ways than one–and it was heartbreaking for Maze to watch his alpha and omega sides war with each other.

"You're not a terrible omega," Maze said. "You're just… a little messed up, like me."

Ordo huffed, but there was a hint of fondness in his eyes. "I'm more messed up."

"And more beautiful," Maze added with a grin. His eyes lowered to the dimples peeking out above Ordo's shorts and he couldn't help but let his mind run a little wild with all the things he wanted to do to him. His alpha instincts were kicking in and kicking in hard.

Ordo looked shocked and whipped his head back around. For a split second Maze thought he messed up, but was pleasantly surprised when Ordo stood up, took his shorts off, tossed them somewhere onto the floor, and then turned around to face him. Maze was dumbstruck at the sight. Ordo's entire body glistened with a sheen of sweat, and his upright position caused slick to ooze out of him. He was the most gorgeous omega he'd ever seen.

"Stop staring," Ordo said, casting his gaze to the side. "It's embarrassing."

Maze propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look, eyes glued to the trails of slick now running wild down Ordo's thighs, then looked up at his face. "Do you want me to take my glasses off?" His voice was hoarse and he took a second to clear it. "You know I'm blind as a bat without them."

Ordo put his hands on his hips and shifted his weight to one leg. "Just shut up and take your stupid cock out before I change my mind."

"Don't have to tell me twice," Maze said with a small laugh. He lifted his hips and slipped his sweatpants off, revealing his large cock that was already hardening with excitement. He wrapped his left hand around the shaft and lazily stroked himself until it was standing firm. "How do you want to do this?"

"Scoot back," Ordo said, gesturing the order with a nod of his head. "I wanna be on top."

Maze did as he was told, moving back up the bed until his full body was splayed out. He didn't have an issue with Ordo taking control; it only meant he'd have to throw his alpha instincts into the backseat. Which wasn't the most difficult thing to do, but it was annoying. He wanted to pounce on Ordo like a regular alpha and omega pair would do, but he couldn't. Mating season was hard enough on normal mated pairs, but this was as good as it was going to get for them.

However, even though Maze followed the instructions perfectly, Ordo still looked hesitant standing in front of him. "Can't you just take it off and let me do it myself?" Ordo asked.

Maze laughed. "If I could, I would." It all sounded like a silly joke, but Maze knew well enough that there was a touch of sincerity in that request, and he took it seriously. "We don't have to do this, you know. They make alpha-sized dildos for–"

"No!" Ordo interrupted. He took a deep breath. "I just–" he shook his head. "I want to be a good omega–I do–but every time I try, I– I mess it up. My brain, my body, my heart, my instincts, and my training can't seem to agree on anything and it jumbles it all up into a big mess in my head."

"Which one is speaking to you the loudest?" Maze asked.

"My body," Ordo said without much thought. "Stars, I need a knot so badly, it kriffin' hurts. I feel so… empty." He visibly bristled and Maze could tell Ordo was uncomfortable admitting that much information.

"Then put the other voices in a box and take them back out later when your body is satisfied," Maze said. "Focus only on your needs at this moment. Close your eyes. Regulate your breathing. Empty your mind of everything other than what you need right now."

Ordo didn't hesitate. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

Maze could only imagine what was running through Ordo's head at that moment if anything at all. Nulls were good at separating themselves into neat little compartments to make war easier, but in this type of situation, Ordo needed a little more patience and a little more guidance to get him to a point where he could do it. On a mission? It was completely automatic. But in a domestic relationship? It was like herding tookas.

Ordo opened his eyes after a minute and Maze could tell he had succeeded in the exercise because his pupils were blown wide and slick poured out of him, plopping wetly onto the hardwood floor beneath. Maze was a bit surprised by the major shift and wondered just how much Ordo was holding back and how painful it must've been to do so. But even if Ordo was on board now, it didn't give Maze free rein to do as he pleased.

"What do you want?" Maze asked, his voice low and gentle.

"I want your knot," Ordo said. "Right now."

"Take it," Maze said, releasing his hand from the thick shaft and leaning back. "It's all yours." He knew Ordo still wanted to be in charge, even after he shoved that part of his personality aside for the time being, and he wasn't about to betray his trust by taking it back, even if his alpha instincts screamed at him to slam Ordo's face into the floor and mount him.

Ordo wasted no time and climbed on top of Maze, straddling his thick, muscular thighs, but he leaned forward past the swollen cock between them and smashed his lips against Maze's in a brutal kiss. It took Maze a second to process what was happening, but once he did, his cock twitched with excitement beneath Ordo's stomach and he wrapped his hands around Ordo's thighs, squeezing them until he bruised the skin beneath his fingertips.

Ordo bit Maze's bottom lip in retaliation, drawing blood and smearing it with his lips as he continued to kiss Maze like he owned him. But, before Maze could react to the pain, Ordo broke the kiss and licked the blood that pooled on his lips, effectively swallowing any noise Maze wanted to make in the process. Then he stopped, panting heavily, and Maze could see he was still struggling internally. His eyes were back to pinpoints, and he looked conflicted.

Maze lifted his head and nuzzled Ordo's neck with his swollen, bleeding lips, skating them over the faded mating mark he made the cycle before. He'd need to refresh that at some point, but not now. Following Ordo's jawline, he strung together a set of kisses to his earlobe and nibbled on it gently. "Don't forget what you need," he whispered. "You can murder me afterward."

Ordo growled and sat up. Maker, it was a glorious sight to see Ordo sitting on top of him, sweat running down his sculpted chest in narrow rivulets, slightly curving around his raised pecks, and then collecting at his navel where it mixed with the precum that leaked from his stiff and neglected cock. It was a shame that Ordo didn't understand how beautiful he was as an omega, but no matter how hard Maze tried, it never sunk in.

Another deep growl rumbled out of Ordo's chest and he ground his hips down, letting his first moan of pleasure fall from his lips. Now he was stalling and Maze was getting impatient. Maze grabbed his cock and squeezed it with exaggerated movements, trying to get Ordo to focus his attention on what he really needed. If Ordo didn't take his knot, then this whole thing was a waste of time and they both would be worse off than when they started.

"C'mon, Ordo," Maze goaded as he continued to stroke himself seductively. "Don't tell me you're afraid of it. Big, bad Null afraid of an Alpha's cock."

"I'm not afraid of anything," Ordo sneered, still grinding his hips in a rhythmic motion against Maze's thighs.

"Then kriffin' sit on it already!" Maze yelled, finally allowing himself to verbalize his frustration. "I don't have all day." He didn't enjoy being rough with Ordo when he was in this kind of vulnerable state, but it was either that or lay there and get blue balls while he waited for him to make up his mind.

Ordo stopped moving and twisted his face into a snarl. "Don't yell at me!"

Maze snarled back. "I wouldn't have to yell at you if you would just stop being a pussy and sit on it!"

"Fine!" Ordo shouted. He lifted his hips and lined up his opening to Maze's cock, then slammed himself down. The movement was so precise and quick that it made an audible smacking sound and the rapidly displaced slick made an obscene squelch.

Maze felt the wind get knocked out of his lungs when Ordo's full weight smashed down onto his cock, squishing his already full balls painfully between his legs. He had to consciously tell himself not to vomit from the pain, because if he did, Ordo would probably let him drown in it and suffocate to death. It was a big maybe, but it wasn't a maybe that Maze wanted to play around with while Ordo had him pinned.

"There," Ordo said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Happy now? I'm sitting on it."

Maze's response came out as a strained wheeze. "You did that on purpose."

"I did what you told me to do," Ordo said with a mocking tone. "Not my fault if your instructions were unclear, Captain."

Maze thumped the back of his head against the mattress and groaned. He didn't understand it. He'd never understand it. Every mating cycle turned into the same thing; a fight. Outside of the mating season, they could have mostly normal, ordinary, everyday sex like everyone else in the galaxy, but something about mating season always got Ordo's panties in a bunch and it turned out like this. And now, his patience for their game was almost gone.

Maze picked his head up after a minute. "Can you at least move a little bit?"

Ordo shrugged. "You didn't ask me to move."

"Maker, you have a smart mouth," Maze said, narrowing his eyes. His annoyance meter was narrowly away from its breaking point. "Maybe I should stick my knot in your mouth instead. At least you'd shut up for a while."

Ordo clenched his jaw and leaned over Maze's chest, giving his cock a little taste of the friction it desired, and brought his eyes only millimeters away from Maze's. "I will slit your throat in your sleep."

Maze knew it wasn't an empty threat, none of Ordo's threats were fully empty, but he smiled and took the opportunity to capture Ordo's lips with his. He thought Ordo would fight him, but he didn't, so he slid his tongue across the crease of his lips, tasting his blood from earlier, and Ordo surprisingly opened his mouth to let him in. Seizing the best opportunity he had, he went to work exploring Ordo's mouth with his tongue.

However, it was also a sneaky little trick and he slowly smoothed his hands down Ordo's back and sides until they settled on his hips. As he deepened the kiss, he gently pushed and pulled Ordo's hips back and forth, guiding him into a steady rhythm to give them both the friction they so desperately needed. Eventually, Ordo began moving his hips on his own and releasing short, puffy moans that Maze enjoyed.

"That's it," Maze praised into Ordo's neck. He thrust his hips up experimentally and Ordo moaned louder. "That's a good boy."

"Don't–ah–call me that," Ordo said, but his words had no bite, not while he was pleasuring himself on Maze's cock. "I'm not–ah–your good–ah–boy. Ah!"

Ordo sat up, hands braced on Maze's stomach, and rocked his hips faster and harder, now meeting Maze's thrusts in earnest. His pupils overtook his irises once again and his mouth fell open to release heady moans of pleasure. It was music to Maze's ears, seeing Ordo return to being his horny omega; so desperate and needy for his cock. Now all he had to do was stare up at his beautiful mate and focus on finishing strong.

It wouldn't take long with the way Ordo squeezed his cock. Normally, during mating season it would feel cavernous, like it could never fully be filled, but not this time. This time it was tighter, and every time Ordo slid himself up and back down, the drag on the head of his cock made him see stars. He didn't need to reach the end of it, he didn't need to hit a goal post, he just needed the drag against Ordo's ribbed walls. It felt incredible like it always did.

"I'm gonna come," Maze said, his voice breathy. He could feel his balls tightening and his knot began to inflate, catching on Ordo's opening. His brain was turning to mush, but he still needed to hold out for a little bit longer to make sure Ordo didn't try to rip his knot out after it inflated. "Do you want it? You gotta tell me you want it."

"Maker, yes!" Ordo moaned, seating himself on the bulbous base after the last downward stroke. He wiggled his hips and nestled down to let it fully inflate inside him. "Please. I need your knot."

That was all Maze needed to hear before he allowed himself to pursue the building tension in his lower abdomen. He was so close, but he needed just a little more to push him over the edge. He focused on Ordo's delicious moans, then it suddenly snapped like a taut wire and Maze came with a convulsing cry. The feeling of hot cum gushing out and filling Ordo was overwhelming, and as his knot inflated, binding them together, they both experienced pure bliss.

Maze's mind flooded with instinctual thoughts of how many babies he was making, what Ordo would look like pregnant, and how they'd raise their ik'aad together, but those thoughts were gone as quickly as they came. It's not what Ordo wanted, at least not right now, and if he drilled deep enough into his own psyche, he probably didn't want it either, but it was nice to fantasize about it. It was part of his alpha nature, and so he let himself feel it in the moment.

Ordo collapsed on top of Maze's chest, panting heavily into his neck. Maze nuzzled Ordo's flushed cheek with his own and licked a bead of salty sweat that ran down his nose. Maze could already tell that Ordo's bodily needs were being met and the pain that he felt earlier was being replaced by euphoria. It was also in these small moments that Ordo fully surrendered to the omega part of his personality and let Maze pamper him for a bit, but not long.

"You did good," Maze praised. He wrapped his arms around Ordo's back and massaged his hands up and down the length of his spine, feeling the once-heated skin finally cooling down. He would probably start shivering soon, so Maze briefly removed one of his hands from Ordo to grab the blanket that was half falling off the bed and tossed it on top of him.

Ordo nuzzled in further and groaned, saying something too muffled and incoherent to understand.

Maze nudged Ordo's face out of his neck so he could hear him. "Can you repeat that?"

"Don't tell them," Ordo whispered, his face was still flushed, but it wasn't from the heat. "Please don't tell them I begged for it."

Maze smiled and planted a few strategic butterfly kisses where he could reach. "I won't. That stays between us and only us. No one needs to know what we do behind closed doors."

"And don't ever leave me," Ordo added quickly, gripping Maze's shirt possessively. "I know I'm not easy to deal with, but I can't imagine going through this without you."

"You're a pain in my shebs," Maze said with a light chuckle. It was rare to have Ordo get sappy on him, and as much as he liked it, he knew it was fleeting, and they'd be back to bickering as soon as his knot deflated. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

Ordo shifted on top of Maze to get more comfortable, but he pulled at the knot in the process and they both moaned at the feeling. "I hate spring," he mumbled.

"Me too," Maze said. He didn't hate it as much as Ordo did, because, in reality, he did have the nice end of the deal, at least in his opinion, but it was still annoying to go through all the motions and emotions so many times. Unfortunately for them, spring had only just begun and there would be plenty more arguments, fights, and aggressive mating sessions before summer rolled around and they could get back to their normal life. "Same time tomorrow?"

Ordo nestled against Maze's chest and closed his eyes to rest. "Only if we have to."

[an0ldworld]

hello there! i just found your blog and i love your writing for hobie, so i’d like to request another thing for him.

would you mind doing something about a transmasc vigilante reader who tags along with hobie on patrols and late night hangouts? hobie and the reader could diy their own costumes together :) maybe reader is black cat, another spiderperson, or whatever you want to come up with. thanks in advance, and i’ll probably request again soon!

hobie brown with a transgender, vigilante reader (ftm)

RAAHH thank you so much :]

i chose for the reader to be another spidersona, probably anarchist and super cool, hope this is okay! let me know if not

warnings: unsafe binding (there’s a warning ahead)

pairing: hobie brown x transmasc!reader

requests: open ! PLEASE

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

for you and hobie to get along so well and hang out outside of missions n such, i imagine you’re a spider-man who rejected miguel’s “invitation” to spider society. this is what might have led to you becoming a vigilante who’s occasionally recruited by spider society after some begging- or you’ve just been a vigilante from day one in your dimension.

but ! who’s likely to notice such a person? hobie, obviously. you two become menaces and no one looks forward to being in a room with you. hobie destroys their faith in the constitution while you’re reinforcing everything

during missions, you make a hell of a team ! there’s somehow this real nonchalant feeling to the atmosphere even if you’re punching down baddies

banter, plenty of it back and forth while swinging about and fighting for ur life

probably makes fun of your form or something playfully, makes a comment or two about a punch you’ve thrown “you call tha’ a punch?” “Naaah, nahnahnahnahnah. watch this,” probably does worse let’s be honest, throws the dirties punch known to man but it does the trick

you’re more stealth while hobie’s way more out there, style n all that

hobie dropping in on some operation to take down the big baddies while shredding away at his electric guitar, meanwhile he’s able to see you picking off people from vantage points

whenever you’ve gotta wait about for some patrols or just observe for a night, you two will find some sorta rooftop to perch on top of and patrol from there. but the view kills

you two probably have a sort of routine: completing missions together for the spider society, hobie then tags along for some vigilante work, then you both kick back at his place once the days come to an end

chill night consists of hobie subconsciously strumming at a note occasionally on his guitar while you talk about whatever together

a lot of complaining about the institution, probably how much miguel fucking sucks

depending on ur current situation with transitioning, given that hobie knows, mans is probably the most supportive person you’ll meet

hobie lives in a society that he actively chooses to protect despite being apart of the margin of people that are still severely oppressed to terrible degrees, be it for his race or how he chooses to express himself (in my head, hobie’s also a boy kisser). so i think that he has a certain passion for protecting those minority groups. you, as a trans man, sometimes get the hobie brown special treatment.

let’s you crash at his place whenever you need it, let’s you borrow his clothes n shit if they help you feel more masculine, will give you tips n tricks that either he uses or has heard work great for presenting masculine

does your makeup if you want it, like making your face look more chisel, fake facial hair or brows more blocky- that kinda shit.

if you’re yet to go through the execution process (top surgery), hobie’s ur guy (a terrible terrible influence)

if you have a binder, good for you- hobie is going to find it and customise it for you because he’s hilarious

probably does some like web stitching into it, lil embroidered parts that match his pins or something like “hobie was here” in his clapped handwriting

this isn’t anything new, you two have this little game going on where you just steal and tag each others things for shits and giggles. his best work? punk-ifying your binders with those like spikes he has on his jackets shoulder pads

firm believer in trans men being shirtless in a binder is normalising something that should’ve been from the beginning- probably also marched a free the titties campaign for all body types and identities cause they aren’t inherently sexual and shouldn’t be (if cis men can, why can’t cis women, y’know?)

if he accidentally damages your shit he’ll either fix or replace it, maybe even make something to compensate

or it becomes part of the fit

these lil things have helped personalise your things greatly- there’s nice little details all over that make you both crack smiles

makes sure that throughout missions you’re good if you’re binding, which he honestly just doesn’t dictate. won’t be the type to tell you off for wearing it too long or during missions, it’s not your fault that you’re just doing what makes you feel more like yourself

instead just makes sure that you’re well rested after the missions over and does things for you so you don’t strain

(DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME. I WILL FIND YOU.)

if by some unfortunate twist of fate you don’t have a binder, hobie will probably diy you one. argues that they can be mass produced by corporations, why can’t he make one by hand? just one more win for the anarchists

diy binders are dangerous, especially if they’re not made right. i’d like to think hobie would try his best, but i imagine he doesn’t have access to the right materials

in this case, he probably rips apart his shit trying to find the right elastic cloths for your safety

that, or he makes a makeshift binders just a bit looser than it should be to reduce the risk of hurting you.

absolute worst case scenario ? could honestly fashion something out of webs (i have a spidersona that does this) mans a genius, he’ll figure something out

positive ? binder looks sick since he makes it

(ok ur safe, continue)

if you’ve got top surgery, good for u, hobie will have ur head if you don’t take the appropriate recovery time

if you are involved with spider society, he either takes your missions for you or absolutely terrorises miguel into not giving you any

you think it’s just a subconscious, casual thing that hobie does but he always manages to slip a “lad” “boy” “man” into his sentences whenever speaking to or about you. gender affirmations innit

that being said, hobie views you as a man wholeheartedly

hobie’s into physical touch so probably got an arm slung around your shoulder, tons of playfully nudges whenever he sees fit (often)

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

i also wanna stress rq that the way i portray hobie; he’s so incredibly supportive, hype man, but he’s not this sunshine and rainbows thing i’ve seen some people portray him as

he’s laid back, nonchalant but can get excited (like w the whole “miles my guy” scene where he’s so hype)

thinks/knows he’s hot shit but it doesn’t make him arrogant. man just knows what he’s capable of and gets to be laid back thanks to it

[z0mbi3k1d]

Romanticizing life part 1

School 📚

School sucks it's probably the worst part of anyone's day but Hot girls romanticize everything so life becomes more fun and enjoyable. Here are some tips and tricks for romanticizing school!

In class🖊

Do your work!! It's even cuter to be smart and attractive

If you finish your work you can read or doodle

Try and work with friends, it makes the work more fun

Listen to music! Make a playlist specifically for school (I'm not gonna link mine because it's not specifically for school it's just my music taste)

Get cute supplies, your favorite colors or ones with cute little characters on them

Notes 🧷

Highlighters and pens!! They make your work look sooo cute!!

Stickers! They also make your notes look more aesthetic and adorable

Practice handwriting, PLEASE omg my hand writing is so bad I have to practice too but your notes will look so cute

Look up borders on Pinterest and use those on your paper they look so cool fr

Organize your notes, weather it's boxes, bullet lists or lines. It just makes it look neater

Social stuff 🖌

Stay out of drama!! It's not cute!!

Use manners and be polite at all times, no body likes someone with an ugly personality. And if they do that's someone you should satay away from

Have good relationships with teachers, say hi and smile to them, it could make a worlds difference!

Have a positive attitude, not everybody is terrible!

Find a club you enjoy, it's easier to make friends with people who have similar hobbies!

Confidence!! 🖇

Be confident you're hot so act like it!!

Keep your head up high, I know it's scary but you'll look more approachable

Pretend you are your favorite character, act like them

Listen to music that makes you feel confident

Wear clothes that make you feel confident, confidence>>looks

Fun little things 📌

When listening to music in the halls pretend your in a movie/music video

Take pictures and record videos with your friends during any free time for memories

With your friend take a paper and write down sweet things about each other, my friend and I do this and it's really fun

You can also pretend you're the main character in a shojo anime!!

Look good, feel good 🖍

"Life isn't a fashion show" yes it is!! Wear things that make you feel like yourself and you'll win!!

Please wear perfume smelling good is a must!!

Make sure your hair is brushed/fixed and looks good

Make sure your bag looks clean please!

Lunch 🍱

Try and pack your own, it's definitely healthier

Please eat lunch, it's important for you to stay adorable!

If you don't have friends sit near people you think are cool, they might end up talking with you!

If you don't want to do that then you can sit by yourself, people don't usually tend to care if you sit at their table as long as you don't bother them

Links ✂️

Cute Amazon school supplies list:

Upcoming posts 📖

Romanticizing gym class

Downtown girl aesthetic guide (rq)

Thanks for reading!! 🩷

Have a great day pretty girl, stay safe and drink tons of water!!

-Lacey~♡

[shhh-secret-time]

We need more of that Soulmate stuff! Can we get one with Stan??? I've such a weakness for our goth boy!

Oh and thank you for writing gn! It's such a small thing but it makes me feel good to read! 🫶

Of course you can! I love Stan and soulmate shit so literally any excuse! I'm glad my writing makes you feel good darling!

Warning: Strong Language, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, over use of the word skin and flesh, and a single shit excuse for poetry

Pairings: Stan x GN!Reader

The most annoying habit Stan had was chewing his bottom lip, so many things of lip balm used to try and repair his lips. Little discarded tubes of flavors that were the foulest thing he'd ever tasted, it was Kyle's idea, if it tasted bad maybe he could trick his brain into stopping the habit.

The second annoying habit was drumming his fingers on his desk, he was especially bad about it when he was younger. That was before the little marking on his skin started popping up. Little words and doodles on his forearm dancing on his skin. At first it freaked him out, he was fourteen and these weird little tattoos were popping up on his skin and then disappearing.

The third annoying habit was never learning to not go to his father when he didn't understand something. One would think after it backfiring so many times Stan would learn to go to his mother when he had questions. To his credit Randy did give him an answer. It just led to a whole ordeal of him telling the entire fucking town that his son has a soulmate and that his son was just like him when he was fourteen. It was embarrassing and he hoped that whoever his soulmate was didn't hear it.

Apparently, the little doodles and grocery shopping lists on his forearm was his soulmate’s handwriting and boy did they love to draw on their arm. Stan would be out in the football field practicing his throws when he'd feel the light brush of the pen across his arm. Which always lead to him fumbling a pass. Maybe he had to thank his coach for all the times he yelled at him because it was after one practice that he finally started marking on his arm back.

At first it was just to try and get whoever his soulmate was back. Taking a sharpie to the underside of his forearm, the big blocky letters spelled S-T-O-P. He remembers tugging down his sleeve with a grumble, thinking he would be free from the torment. Little did he know this was a declaration of war.

You were sitting in the science lab when it happened, working on your assignment when the letters appeared. Up until then you never saw something like that happen, so when it did you nearly dropped the beaker. Soulmate or not, who did they think they were to send such a passive aggressive message?! You excused yourself and hurried to the bathroom, ignoring the look of your partner. You pulled up your sleeve and glared down at bright silver words.

Stan furrowed his brows as his eyes scanned over the new message.

"Who uses a silver sharpie?! Are you kidding me?!" You hissed.

Well, you couldn't take that sitting down, could you? Your hands dug into the pockets of your pants to pull out the pen you always kept on you. Dragging the tip of the cheap pen across your skin, you wrote your little soulmate a loving note.

"Eat shit."

The font lit a fire in him as his eyes narrowed. Stan took the lid off the sharpie and drew a crude middle finger on his palm. Once he was satisfied with it, he pulled his gloves back on, maybe his soulmate didn't have gloves and would have to deal with that.

From then on Stan carried that damn sharpie everywhere. He would be in the middle of talking with his friends about something when he'd feel your words sketch onto his skin again. He would stop even if he was in the middle of something just to read whatever rude thing you'd come up with. It was Kyle who finally approached him about it.

"Dude you're gonna get ink poisoning." Stan almost missed the way Kyle scolded him, to focused on writing.

"I don't care Kyle! They're insulting the Broncos!" Stan hissed back.

"How did you even get on that topic?" Kyle rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I-...I don't know but I'm not going to just let them shit on my favorite team!" He looked up towards his best friend, Kyle could see the fire behind those blue eyes and almost chuckled.

"This person is supposed to be your soulmate, ya know? Like your forever partner."

"I know that! But it's like they know exactly what to say to get under my skin!" Stan groans as he caps the sharpie and slumps back against the park bench. "I mean...was it like this for you? You found yours recently."

The red head raised a brow at his friend, the question catching him off guard. "Hm...no? We got along pretty much instantly. Guess it helped they found me before I found them?"

Stan watches as Kyle presses a thumb into his palm. A warm smile plays across his lips as he rubs the golden letters. Rumors of Kyle and his soulmate spread quick, they were the talk around campus for a while much to Kyle’s dismay.

"But I get what you're feeling."

"You fight with your partner like this?"

"What? No! Not yet at least...I mean it's bound to happen eventually, but I mean the thing you said about their words getting under your skin." Kyle shook his head making the green straps on his head swing back and forth. Before Stan could respond Kyle held up his hand and continued. "They'll text me or say something to me and it just...feels like my heart is going to explode. The first time we kissed it felt like my skin was on fire, it felt intense. So... I think that might just be a side effect of having a soulmate. Everything is kinda turned up to eleven."

Stan just sat there and listened to him. He pushed his hands in his coat pocket and squeezed the sharpie, letting the words sink in. Leave it to Kyle to make him think about it more. Stan responds with a long sigh.

"... Maybe."

"Hey at least you can talk to yours. We had to go based off each other's thoughts...it's hard keeping my thoughts in control."

"Yeah, I don't know if I could live with that, probably end up cutting my hand off." Stan chuckles and looks down at his forearm.

Maybe he could swallow his pride a little and just take it easy. It certainly made sense now why your words were having such an effect on him. If everything was turned up to eleven like Kyle said, then maybe he needed to take a step back and try something else.

It wasn't until he was sitting in class bored again that he got the idea. He even went out of his way to use a different marker, one with a smaller point. Pressing the tip to his arm, he watched the bright blue ink bleed into his skin. Stan didn't really know what to write, it was hard to go from writing stupid insults and drawing crude things to something just mundane. He pressed his lips together and stared hard at the little blue dot until his hand started moving. Stan wrote best when it was in song lyrics or his poems.

Watercolor running down my skin.

It's supposed to feel cool but all it does is make my head spin.

You get under my skin like fire.

The tip of your pen bleeds me like sharp wire.

He pulls back and looks down at it with narrowed eyes. Stan can already feel the warm embarrassment spreading over his face and up to the tip of his ears. Quickly pulling down his sleeve again, he tried to push it out of his mind for the rest of the day. An hour went by before he felt that all too familiar feeling, it was something he was getting used to at this point. He looked down and his eyes widened in awe.

"Did you write that? It's good."

No smart-ass comment about his poetry. You didn't make fun of him for putting his words in a silly simple format. You just complimented it. Stan could feel his heart speeding up as he re-read the small sentence under his poetry over and over again.

"Yeah. I'm not good at communicating normally."

"Poetry is just easier for ya huh?"

"That or music."

"Really? You play?"

Stan grinned down as he started running out of room on his forearm, having to move to the surface of his arm now. His face getting closer to his skin as he hunches over his desk to keep writing.

"Yeah, guitar and a little bass. They're kinda similar."

"That's cool!"

"Do you play any?"

And soon his entire arm was covered in back and forths. Talking about music to whatever else the two of you could come up with. He learned about all your hobbies just as you learned his. You started keeping a little journal of all the poems he wrote you, all the little songs he'd write down across his. It was when you'd wake up to a poem, first thing in the early mornings. The sunlight caressing your entire body, wrapping you up like a hug.

The poems spoke of things like how he was excited to talk to you throughout the day. Asking you if blue was starting to become your favorite color. Did you think of him when you saw it? Things like how he was so happy to see you respond and that he thinks of you every time he strums on his guitar. You were just thankful he couldn't hear your heartbeat or see the way he made your face flush.

But there was that longing to finally see this person. You learned your partner was a he but the thought of asking him his name didn't seem to matter. It was like you'd known him your whole life, and because of him blue was starting to become your favorite color. So one night as you sat at your desk, you decided to just go for it.

"Hey. I just thought about how I don't know your name!" You had to move to writing with your non-dominate hand which made your handwriting a little shaky.

You giggled at the little doodle that came up next to your statement. It was a horrible drawing of Kirby pointing at the writing, but his face was scrunched up in disgust.

"I dunno. Didn't think about it."

You waited after reading his sentence, thinking he was going to continue. Nope. Nothing.

"Well, what is it??" You asked as you doodled next to the Kirby, a little frog wearing a hat joining the fray.

"It's Stan."

"What?! No way!"

You circled Stan's name with your pen and drew a bunch of exclamation marks. You knew a Stan; he was the quarterback at your university! He had three little friends that always seemed to follow him! He was the kid who brought a guitar to-

He brought a guitar to class sometimes.

He wrote in his notebook when he thought no one was watching.

He made your heart beat and the butterflies in your stomach flutter.

He was your soulmate.

Did he even notice you like you did him? Did he know you sat across the room from him in history? Or that you were his soulmate? Of course he didn't! He doesn't even know your name.

You break out of your spiraling thoughts when you see the blue ink across your skin again. "Pretty sure way. That's the name my mom gave me."

"You know what I mean dick! I know you! You're Stan Marsh! You live on that farm that's like an hour away from here in South Park!"

There was nothing for a while. Maybe you shouldn't have said all that, but the faster your heart sped the faster you wrote. You didn't think to slow down until you looked back at how hastily everything was written.

"You go to my university, don't you?" He asked.

"South Park college. Go cows." You doodled a little cow next to the response hoping to relief a little tension.

"Go to Stark Pond in an hour."

"What?! Dude it's like 6:30! I can't just leave this late!"

"I wanna meet you and I don't wanna wait. I'm already in my truck."

You could tell from the way the letters were spaced out and slanted. It was almost gibberish, gibberish that had your blood pumping. In a manner of seconds, you learned the name of your soulmate and you were actually considering going out. It would be around seven thirty before he actually showed up. You bit your lip and looked over at your car keys but only for a moment. When the thoughts of how he wanted to meet you were so bad he was willing to drive out again to see you. To see who you were. The fear of disappointing him did cross your mind, what if he hyped you up too much.

You knew Stan Marsh. You knew how pretty he was and how he could make a group of people follow him. You knew he had those beautiful baby blue eyes that seemed to go forever.

God you loved the color blue.

With a huff you grabbed your keys and put on some decent clothes. You waited at Starks Pond for that hour, you could have stayed home to wait but your anxiety wouldn't let you. Not the way your heart was still pounding, every minute that passed felt like agony. Pulling your jacket closer to your body, you almost leapt out of your skin each time a car would pull up; only to be disappointed when anyone that wasn't Stan got out or drove off.

When finally, a beat up brown truck pulled up next to yours. Your breath hitched when you saw movement, breathing out when you saw a familiar pair of red shoes. A blue hat that looked well-loved over shaggy black hair.

He was standing by the water looking around, he looked as nervous as you felt. Just when he thinks you're not coming do you finally find the strength, the feeling, in your legs to step out of the car. The cold air nipping at your skin, it felt like ice right now from the way your skin set ablaze. The sounds of your footsteps crunching against the snow makes him look back and his jaw drop.

"It's you."

"It's me." You respond with a little smile, your voice barely above a whisper.

Stan takes the initiative and meets you halfway, the two of you meeting on the worn out walking trail. It isn't until he steps into the moonlight that you realize he's not wearing his jacket, but you notice the ink going up and down his arms.

"You actually came. I didn't think you would."

"I almost didn't...it's cold you know." You shoot him a little smirk, changing the tone in your voice to a lighthearted tease.

Stan let's out a breathy chuckle, you can see the little puff of air that escapes his lips. He takes a step closer towards you. You can feel the heat coming off him, radiating around your body. "Yeah guess it is. Forgot my jacket."

"Were you that excited?"

"Are you kidding? Yeah! It's not fair you knew what I looked like!"

And when you giggled Stan felt himself walking on air. The way you made his heart soar from that alone. He'd never write something funny on his arm again, if he had something funny to say you'd hear it just so he could hear that laugh.

"Then I hope you're not disappointed."

"Wh... what? Of course I'm not disappoint- You have no idea how much I'm trying not to throw up right now."

"What?!"

"No! Hold on! That came out worse than I meant! I mean I'm nervous because- because you're so beautiful and-....and I'm fucking this up, aren't I?" You watch the panic in Stan's eyes as he scrambled to try and find the right words.

You broke his mind when you laughed again. If your hands didn't come out to take his he would have bolted, ran off to find hole to crawl into. Instead, your hands anchor him to that spot, your smile brings him back down just for him to get lost in your eyes.

"You do suck at communicating." You whisper and press a kiss into his cheek.

"Uh...yeah well...you're the one kissing me. So ...I must be doing something right." Stan mentally kicks himself for that comment, but he can't help that little competitiveness in him.

Stan doesn't let you get whatever you're about to say out, his lips meet yours eagerly. He knows whatever you're about to say is only going to make his face turn a deeper shade of red. When he pulls away and sees your eyes are shut and your lips still slightly parted from the kiss, he knows he's already in deep. Especially when you cupped his face and brought him in for another.

Everything felt like being turned up to eleven. Everything felt right. You felt right being in his arms like this. He never wanted to come down from this feeling and he was sure you felt the same.

[dev1lsadvocate]

@darkdevoured

The haze of perfumed smoke curled around Mizora as she lounged against the edge of the satin-draped dais, flicking ash into the candlelit, watching the swirl of bodies before her. All around, limbs entwined in a tangle of heat and breath — at least a dozen of them — warm skin slick with desire, the musky scent of arousal thick in the air, punctuated by whispered gasps and the soft rustle of shifting silk. Every joint and sinew writhed in pleasure, yet in her own body only impatience thrived.

She exhaled another plume of smoke, eyes half‑lidded, scanning the tableau as if it were an ill‑conceived play. The tremor of thighs, the damp press of torsos, the promise in each heated sigh were undeniably intoxicating… But not enough to hold her attention.

Yes, the doe‑eyed brunette from earlier managed to follow instructions well enough. But it wasn’t her. Not by a long shot. Everything felt so half-hearted: the over-eager poses, the weak moans, the rhythm was all wrong. It lacked that fierce devotion Mizora craved — the tremor in each kiss, the shuddering whimpers that spoke of genuine desperation under her touch, the roaming hands eager to have her closer, no matter what.

She’d been indulging in dark‑haired, petite women more frequently these days, chasing that fleeting spark… Yet every time she settled for one of them, her thoughts slipped back to Aurelia. As if no one else could truly sate her hunger.

How utterly tedious. Mizora thought with a snarl. And how... Disconcerting.

The cambion stood up in a sharp, sudden motion, cutting through the haze of sweat and smoke. "That's enough," she snapped, voice like a whipcrack as she gave a loud, sharp, commanding clap of her hands. "Gather your clothes, darlings. We're finished."

Around her, the entangled limbs and flushed faces of the orgy untangled in confusion. A few blinked up at her, dazed and unsure, while others sat up abruptly, eyes wide.

"What? Finished?" one man stammered, breathless and still half-hard. "But—"

"If there’s something specific you want, mistress," purred a lithe tiefling woman, crawling closer on all fours, "you only need to tell us. We can adjust. We can please you. Just say the word."

"Yes," another chimed in, her voice desperate. "Whatever it is we’ll follow it. You only have to command."

But Mizora’s ruby gaze was distant, distracted, already leagues away from the pile of willing bodies and perfumed arousal. Her wings flicked once in irritation. For the first time she regretted using her infernal charm for personal indulgences.

“Sweet things,” she drawled, already walking off to open the door. “You could reenact the Nine Layers with perfect choreography and it still wouldn’t do the trick.”

With a languid flick of her wrist, she stubbed out her cigarette, tail flicking with bored annoyance as she held the door open. “Honestly,” she murmured under her breath, “I simply expected more from you.”

The sharp motion of her head that followed conveyed a clear message: Out. Now.

She didn’t even wait for them to scramble for their clothes. Let them fumble and gawk, she had more important things to tend to.

She grabbed her silken robe from the chaise, wrapping it around her as she made her way to her boudoir, plucking a fine quill and a piece of fresh parchment from her lacquered desk. Ink shimmered as she dipped the tip, and then began to write in a sweeping, perfect handwriting:

Dearest Aurelia,

I’ve secured new lodgings within the city, something with a bit more charm, a bit more height, and a rather breathtaking view of the ocean. You’ll find the sound of the waves quite soothing when one needs clarity… Or company.

I would be delighted if you visited. The place feels awfully spacious without a sharp tongue and clever mind to fill the air.

With anticipation, M.

She sealed it with a kiss of fire and her personal sigil, eyes narrowing fondly at the parchment as she retrieved a slender strand of fine copper wire from her vanity, twisting it between her fingers and murmuring the incantation for the Sending spell. Her eyes glowed briefly with infernal light as she whispered the message into the weave of magic. The words shimmered into the ether, racing across planes to find Aurelia’s mind.

"Let’s see if this pulls you in, little orchid."

[sleepiestarchivist]

Tips from a DID system getting a fucking master’s degree:

Every conceivable surface is a place for notes. Every room in our apartment has a sticky note pad. We also have a white board by the door and a black board in the kitchen. The more urgent the information, the larger we write it- absolutely vital information, like super time sensitive tasks, go in REALLY BIG HANDWRITING on the black board, because then no one can miss it.

Ask for help. Professors are much kinder people than any damn medical professional I’ve encountered. My professors are super sympathetic and accommodating, they understand I have more difficulties than most students. Even without approaching the office of accessibility (which we absolutely should have), we’ve been given so many accommodations and so much help. We wouldn’t have survived this long if we didn’t finally break and tell our professors what was going on in our lives- and they all stopped at nothing until they were certain I was getting the help I needed.

Find whatever way of writing notes works best for you. Experiment. Make it fun. We make our best notes when writing in comic sans and using goofy, informal language. Document everything you can, even if you think a certain detail in a lesson is unimportant, because you never know what will be retained/what alters will communicate to one another. So getting used to writing thorough notes that you know how to navigate and feel motivated to write will be a life saver.

Stim toys, fidget toys, comfort items, etc are all your friends. As long as they aren’t loud, I promise, no one cares. I regularly bring plushies to work and usually get compliments. Just don’t be disruptive and you’re fine, honestly sometimes people get jealous and comment how they wish they had the guts to bring toys/tools like that with them.

EVERYTHING HAS A HOME. Assign everything a spot. Pencils go in the pencil pouch which goes in the front pocket of the book bag. The laptop and charger go into the laptop pocket the moment I’m done using them, even if I’m at home. It’s hard as hell but write down where everything is supposed to go so everyone knows where to put things when they’re done, create a standardized organization system. It at least minimizes the risk of things being misplaced or lost.

That’s it for now, I’m sure we’ll remember more tricks and tools that have helped us survive, but yeah. I promise, if you’re a system in high school or college, you can make it. Also remember: academic success does not determine your personal worth!!!

[milkoomi]

Hey beauty! Do you have any tips on handwriting? I struggle with chronicly bad handwriting and I have no clue how to improve it. If you don't, could you link some? Have a wonderful night my dear

hi darling!! thank you so much for stopping by! 💓 i personally have actually never really looked into improving my own handwriting (except now i’m kind of considering it hehe) but i did start looking for some helpful videos that i think might be useful to you!

₊˚⊹ ᰔ quick links to handwriting improvement ᝰ.ᐟ

“How To Actually Improve Handwriting” - youtube short by SterlingInk

“Handwriting Tutorial” - tiktok video by essynotes

“How to improve your handwriting” - tiktok video by Zeinab Saad

“how to improve your handwriting” - youtube video by TheCoffeeMonsterzCO ( this one was from 3 years ago, but!! there’s a link to a free pdf worksheet! )

𝜗𝜚 final notes 𝜗𝜚

these videos contain similar tips & tricks, but i think getting them from different people can help you gain a better understanding of the different tips! a key thing i noticed when i was doing my own little research on this was practice, practice, practice! consistency is key when you’re wanting improvement in any aspect of your life, no matter how big or small! but i hope this little list helps you out!

live and love, babe.

sincerely, juno ⭑.ᐟ

[the-ellia-west]

Here, Have a Sneak-peek

I love how Marril's Intro perfectly conveys his personality

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Marril brushed the tips of his gloved fingers over the paper, grabbed the upper corner, and folded the crease open. The Assassin scanned it once more and scoffed as he crumpled it. A foolish attempt at tricking him. 

Keresan’s name had never been whispered in the alleys of the black market, nor printed on a card. With that level of obscurity,  he couldn’t be the noble he claimed to be. Marril had been suspicious from the moment he’d laid eyes upon the chaotic handwriting. But the address made it obvious as a butterfly trying to hide among rocks that this was a trick. Abandoned for years, every criminal and noble in the city gossiped superstitions about the old place over tea and whispers. 

A scowl darkened his face at the mere thought of a client as he blew a strand of long raven hair from his face. Hundreds of lectures about morals, monsters, and murder from people who thought money was an adequate exchange for a man’s life. But everyone who’d summoned him always needed him for something. His blade-bearing hands had seen their fair share of blood, but no matter how well those nobles scrubbed their skin clean, he could always see the streaks of scarlet between their elegant fingers.

Marril fixed his lips into a false smile as he stepped up to the door, muttering to himself under his breath. “Vatsú maravi fala kún ge pé'delzhua kún'a. Time to eat fish from a bloody fisherman I suppose.” He knocked.

The old, cracked door creaked open, revealing a man with pale lips and a waxy smile a few feet beyond the threshold. He examined the Assassin with sharp scrutiny before he spoke. “Honrul said he’d get me the best. That’s you I assume?” 

Marril squinted at the man, eyeing his hands where a strange translucent skin stretched up to the bottom of the nails. The man hid his strange hand behind his back. Slitted pupils in his clear ocean eyes watched the Caliskian closely as his lips twisted into a snarl, showing the teeth of a carnivore. “Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?”

The Assassin narrowed his eyes. 

“Insolent. Answer me.” 

Marril raised his head and looked down on the man. He swore at him in his native language. “Your comfort is not what I was hired for.”

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@oliolioxenfreewrites @friendfromdsmp @thepeculiarbird @corinneglass @phoenixradiant

@sunflowerrosy @kia-is-poisoned @rivenantiqnerd @aestheic-writer18 @ryahisbored

@nkikio @somethingclevermahogony @mjparkerwriting @sl-vega @darkandstormydolls

@agirlandherquill @baconandeggs-25 @alnaperera @fantasy-things-and-such @ajgrey9647

@aalinaaaaaa @cybercelestian @danielleitloudernow @illarian-rambling @idunnobutliaiscool

@jeremy-no @fandom-pits-dweller @katwritesshit @smudged-red-ink @sunnyjustice

@thelazywitchphotographer @pastellbg @louudthoughts @bigwipscholar @killingthemoon84

@attemptingwriter @purplehandshumanfeelings @bluberimufim @artsandstoriesandstuff

@fatskwirrel @wyked-ao3

[aalinaaaaaa]

Trick or treat

Hey Wyked, thanks for the ask!

As pertains to your treat, you get a map! This map is of the continent where all my wips take place :D

(It's not entirely finished, there are a whole pile of individual courts and smaller countries dotted around the place, it's only because of the hand-drawn nature of it and my own handwriting that I decided to focus on the bigger ones)

(And a fun piece of trivia, the east coast lines were taken from a map of Ireland. I picked certain parts of the west coast [and the eastern tip of Northern Ireland!] and tried to imitate those)

[eliteseven]

Thinking about when this is all over, them curled up together in front of the fire in their cottage, Shadowheart fast asleep on Serena’s shoulder, just so thankful she’s home again, but Serena is unable to find the same peace in sleep. So she sits there, reveling in the contact as she looks through the letters she wrote to Althea what now feels like a life time ago. She recognizes her own handwriting, but can’t recall several of the events they describe from the depths of her own mind. Serena sitting there, mourning the loss of these moments that got her where she is now, comfortably wrapped up in her lover’s embrace, but finding comfort in the fact they will remake new memories now. They survived countless times before, and they can do it again. The proof is in her own writing

Anyway, that last chapter slapped. Thank you for your service to all of us 🫡

Ugh, that’s SO right! 🥺 Serena’s letters to Althaea would be an excellent resource, assuming she’s forgotten some core NobleHeart memories.

One thing I’d really like to touch on is Serena’s shame. I think she’s ashamed that she wasn’t strong enough to resist the mirror- something that Shadowheart instantly shuts it down with a pointed “And should I be ashamed, then, for letting it take everything from me?”

In some sense, it’ll bring them a lot closer. Serena can’t remember- she tries desperately, but certain moments are lost to her. And in this pain, she better understands her wife- and everything she endured. Serena lost the tip of the iceberg, compared to Shadowheart. She learns how beautifully resilient Shadowheart is, willing to build her life again from the ground up. She’s in awe of Shadowheart.

I think she’d slip out of bed and find those letters, curling up in the corner to read them. I don’t think she expects such an emotional reaction, reading back over moments she’d forgotten….but she does. She cries, for her old self, for all the doubt she endured. She laughs, tracing the words on the page each and every time there’s a Shadowheart related excerpt (the whole thing, basically).

…she falls in love all over again. With Shadowheart’s apparent attitude, with their journey, with the little in-between moments that were lost to her due to Shar, or simply the passage of time. Sometimes, she can’t remember- but she can envision the events all the same, and that helps.

Mind you, she hasn’t forgotten everything- that would be a travesty. But those precious moments that Shar siphoned away? Shadowheart has a trick or two up her sleeve, for those, too. I can’t wait to share the healing with you all, it’s really what I’m most looking forward to! 🥹

After this, Serena and Shadowheart’s relationship and understanding of one-another is iron clad. They can’t possibly get closer. She returns to bed and presses the softest of kisses to Shadowheart’s neck, and gets pulled into her embrace until she can barely breathe. She looks forward to morning, and each and every moment after.

Anyway, thanks so much for reading and sharing your thoughts! 😁❤️ so glad you’ve liked the progression of the story so far! And I do hope you’ll enjoy the healing/fluff/spice coming next!