#i need a tag. at least a placeholder.

[rogdona]

[sleepy-stitches]

actually before i do lie down. i cant post exactly what it is due to the nature of the situation but i got some really really huge good news today. its kind of extremely awesome. massive win for the sydney community

[psy-ay-ay]

i thought i hated kizaru but the amount of absolute vitriol i have for akainu ohmygod like if you tell me he's going to die in ep 1000 i'll try to bend spacetime to be able watch the next 500 episodes in one day just to see him die

[bramblepurr]

☀️ day one n two for mollymauk week!! 🌙

day one: sun and moon // day two: comfort

very low energy recently so i may not do painting for this week but we’ll see how it goes!! also decided to group days together in posts so i don’t get so stressed abt posting ahdhshdh

[misfortunegirl]

MANNNNN I need to have secret admirers or something I'm sick of this shit

[iced-souls]

You know me just struggling to come up with names, and honestly I’ve figured out some ways of doing so.

But thats for character names.

I am now struggling to come up with my universes names.

Right now I’m focusing on dulcie’s/lollipop persons universe/comic/show/worlds name and i got NO FRICKIN CLUE

I’ve come up with a couple of things but they all dont sound right so I’m just PERSERVERING THROUGH THIS.

Next I’m gonna have to find soop’s world’s name—.

[grazziella]

 grazie’s  brother  was  and  is  one  of  the  most  important  people  to  her.  once  their  dad  left,  he  was  both  parents  to  her.  he  taught  her  how  to  dance.  he  asked  his  friend’s  girlfriends  how  to  do  makeup  so  he  could  teach  grazie.  he  saved  up  the  money  that  he  could  to  buy  her  a  pair  of  blue  heals  that  she  could  go  dancing  in.  he  made  sure  she  to  and  home  from  school  safely.  he  cooked  for  her  and  taught  her  how  to  prepare  a  few  meals.  he  helped  her  with  her  spelling  since  that  subject  was  absolute  hell  for  her.  he  gave  up  everything  so  his  little  sister  could  grow  up  as  if  she  had  two  present  parents  in  her  life.  

 he  was  the  reason  grazie  became  exposed  to  gang  life.  shortly  after  the  break  in  (  nothing  was  stolen,  no  one  was  hurt,  but  it  was  one  of  the  most  traumatic  memories  of  grazie’s  childhood  ),  he  got  in  cahoots  with  a  street  gang  in  order  to  protect  their  family.  grazie  later  dated  their  leader  but  the  fling  didn’t  last  long.  she  also  dated  one  of  its  other  members,  again  didn’t  last  long.  her  brother  and  this  gang  are  the  reason  she  surrounds  herself  with  the  jets.  

 her  brother  knew  their  father  wasn’t  going  back  for  them  but  there  was  always  a  desire  to  find  him  again.  the  reasoning  behind  this  changed  daily.  sometimes,  he  wanted  to  see  his  dad  again  and  embrace  him  tight.  other  days,  he  wanted  to  punch  him  square  in  the  face  for  not  sticking  around  for  his  family.  this  is  part  of  the  reason  why  he  joined  the  military.  her  brother  always  speculated  that  their  dad  went  back  to  the  italian  town  he  always  talked  about  and  where  he  grew  up.  not  that  he  thought  he  would  be  stationed  in  italy,  world  war  two  had  been  over  for  years.  but  he  wanted  to  travel  and  since  he  didn’t  have  any  money  for  it,  the  military  seemed  like  a  good  option.  plus,  it  was  a  way  to  indirectly  protect  his  little  sister.  

 grazie  hates  writing  letters  but  she  wrote  to  him  every  day.  she  got  letters  back  every  week  or  so.  he  told  her  about  training.  he  told  her  about  riding  on  an  airplane  for  the  first  time.  he  told  her  about  how  sticky  the  air  was  where  he  was.  then  the  letters  stopped  coming.  

 there  was  never  any  notice.  no  letter  back  home  saying  he  was  dead.  but  after  months  of  no  letters,  grazie  knew  it  was  the  worst.  her  brother  was  dead.  

 their  relationship  is  similiar  to  bernardo  and  maria’s.  while  grazie  doesn’t  know  much  about  either  of  them  aside  from  what  riff  says  about  bernardo  or  watching  maria  at  the  dance,  if  she  wasn’t  heartbroken  over  riff’s  death,  she  would  have  been  absolutely  devastated  for  maria  who  lost  her  older  brother,  too.  but  at  least  she  knows  for  certain  that  her  brother  is  dead.  grazie  will  only  be  left  to  wonder  about  her  own.  

[weirdstrangeandawful]

What is whump?

I get asked this question a lot so I figured I'd just make a post about it! I doubt a lot of people will see this since I'm a small whump blog but at least a few people will have a quick reference.

The short answer is that whump is a fictional genre of media. Like any genre, it's difficult for one person to entirely characterise but I'll do my best.

Whump is a fictional genre focused on the experience of pain. This can be physical pain or emotional pain. The pain could be acute or chronic. The focus could be on the recovery from the pain or on the pain itself. It's a super versatile genre!

Some frequently asked questions:

Okay, but how is this different from hurt/comfort?

This is a complicated question (hard to entirely characterise an entire genre, eh?) and it really depends on the writer. For me, hurt/comfort is a subset of whump where the comfort is required whilst whump is the larger, overarching genre where comfort is not an absolute necessity, but many others have different opinions!

What is a whumpee?

You'll often hear writers (especially prompt writers) in the whump community refer to characters as 'whumpee', 'whumper', and 'caretaker'. These are placeholder names like your good old A, B, and C. 'Whumpee' refers to the character experiencing the pain (literally 'the one being whumped'); 'whumper' is the (optional) character causing or contributing to the pain; and 'caretaker' is the (also optional) character helping care for the whumpee and alleviating the pain.

Why would I support someone who thinks people should experience pain?

Pain and adversity are facts of life. In fact, many of us as whump writers and readers engage with the genre to cope with pain and adversity in our real lives. It's important to remember that whump is a fictional genre and someone's interest in the fictional themes portrayed really aren't a reflection of what goes on in their real life. The name 'whump' may be contemporary but this is definitely not a contemporary genre (Shakespearean tragedies anyone?) so there is no use criticising its existence. If you don't like it, that's okay! Scroll on by and block the #whump tag if you need to. Like many artists, we're an accepting community and won't judge. In fact, we probably understand better than most that there is too much pain in the world and not everyone wants to read about more of it.

What's the difference between whump and BSDM/kink?

This is a complicated and very individualised answer. The oversimplified answer is that BDSM and kink are explicitly sexual/sensual whilst whump is not necessarily related to sex. But that is extremely oversimplified and doesn't cover all or even most people's experiences with either whump or BDSM/kink. The most generalised answer I can give is that whump is an overarching genre whilst BDSM and kink are individualised cultural practices and activites. But even that needs nuance and context to understand and apply. For me personally, I don't like combining the two because I experience them in very different ways, but that's just my experience!

Edit: I realise that I was not clear in the above answer. BDSM and kink are absolutely not inherently sexual at all. In my personal experience, I've found there to be a lot more overlap between BDSM/kink and sexual experiences than with whump but this is not true for many and maybe most people. No one person is qualified to answer this question.

[deaf-solitude]

In The Shadow of the Valley Pt. 1 (Squire!Thaddeus x Knight!Reader)

Pairing: Thaddeus x Knight!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings/Tags: Future graphic violence, injury and blood, no use of Y/N, placeholder knight name for the reader, mostly gender-neutral but reader is called “sir” at some points, the reader is called “my lord” a lot too, reader is also a bit of an asshole but dw they soften up

Summary: You’re a knight sworn to the Brotherhood of Steel, and you’ve just lost your asshole squire to a yao guai. Maybe it’s for the better, as you prefer to work alone anyway. Unfortunately, the Brotherhood thinks otherwise and quickly sends you a replacement. Turns out that the replacement is someone you never wished to meet again, but thankfully, he didn’t know it was you! Not yet, at least.

TDLR; What if Thaddeus was assigned to be your squire instead of Maximus’?

((A/N)) I have no defence for this. I’m so weak for pathetic men it's not even funny 😔 I’m planning on making this a 3 or 4 parter, so this parts a little on the shirt side for simplicity’s sake. Also I swear I’ve been trying to work on some Umbrella Academy stuff, but I got major writer's block for one of my requests that I was super excited to write. I’m hoping this little fallout tangent will kickstart my motivation. Anyway, enjoy my brain rot-induced fanfic bc there’s not enough appreciation for my boy Thaddeus lmao

You really wished you didn’t have to have a squire tagging along with you constantly. Okay, sure, you didn’t want to be carrying that overly-massive bag of shit yourself, but all they ever did was get in the way and die.

That’s how you found yourself in your current position, gripping your radio tightly between your metal-clad hands.

”No, I do not need another squire! Do not send one-“

”A replacement squire is currently on its way to you. Hold position.”

You groaned loudly as you released the call button, feeling inclined to rip the radio out of your suit and be done with the person on the other side of the transmission. You could do this all by yourself. There was no reason to waste yet another squire on a mission that could easily be completed by you and you alone.

Your last squire already had you walking a fine line between focusing on the mission and focusing on not smashing his head into a wall, though the yao guai he pissed off had beaten you to it. You looked back at the cave behind you, where your squire’s mauled body currently resided, deciding to move away from it in favour of getting yourself back on your intended path.

You didn’t stray too far from the general area, however, begrudgingly waiting for the Brotherhood transport to deliver your new squire. You leaned against a tree in wait, sighing heavily as you tilted your head back.

You were starting to regret ever joining this odd faction, though you supposed you didn’t have many other places to turn to as an abandoned child. Some knights had picked you up off the side of the road one day, where you were protecting an injured dog from a small band of rad roaches. You’d been caring for it for days, bringing it any food and water you could scavenge, and you weren’t going to give up on it so easily.

The makeshift spear you made with your small pocket knife tied around the end of a stick made them laugh, and they quickly shot the roaches before offering to take you back to the Brotherhood. They told you that you could help people just like you helped the dog. You, with your big heart and even bigger ambitions, agreed to go with them.

From that foggy interaction, you specifically remembered the look of the squires’ faces when you so readily agreed to tag along. They almost looked remorseful. You understood why now: the Brotherhood was not a very welcoming place to wannabe heroes. You understood that quickly.

…You never did see that dog again.

You weren’t sure how much time passed, maybe a half hour or so, before you could hear the familiar sound of an approaching vertibird. You sighed, pushing off of the tree and straightening up your stance. Here we fucking go.

You hardly had it in you to look up as your new squire rappelled down, the oversized bag he was carrying falling to the ground with a loud thump while he clumsily unhooked his harness.

He had already started talking before he even turned around, sending the rappel lines back up to the vertibird. “Oh, Knight Mire!” You barely registered the familiar voice before you saw his face, and it took everything in you not to scream or curse him out.

It was fucking Thaddeus.

He kept talking even as you froze in place, getting down on one knee and going on some spiel about how he was honoured to be in your charge, but it was drowned out by the ringing in your ears. You were going to strangle this man.

You and Thaddeus didn’t have the… best history. Arriving at the Brotherhood airbase around the same time some other kid—Maximus—did, you were both subject to his horrible bullying for a while. You were able to stand up to him after a while, giving Thaddeus a thorough beating for shoving you past your breaking point in your first few weeks there. You were pulled off of him by some officers and thoroughly scolded by Elder Quintus but returned to normal duties soon enough.

Thaddeus had enough of you after that, avoiding you at all costs as long as you weren’t near Maximus, who was now his group’s primary target. As nice as the younger kid was, he never had it in him to fight back against them. You decided to keep away from him regardless, not wanting to get caught up with those assholes again. Another infraction could’ve meant a much more severe punishment for you, and that was not something you were interested in.

“Uh, Knight Mire?” You were snapped out of your thoughts and looked down at Thaddeus, who was still kneeling and looking up at you with some expression of concern or anxiety. Did he not… recognize you? No, of course, he didn’t: he didn’t know your last name, and as far as he was aware, you were dead as soon as Quintus sent you off base years ago. Being sent off base almost always resulted in death.

Good. That was good.

”Rise, squire,” you commanded, your voice garbled by the voice modifier in your helmet. Thaddeus scrambled to his feet, his posture tense and his arms held closely to his sides. You inspected him a little longer, taking note of his skittish demeanour before brushing past him to resume travelling to your original destination.

“You’ll do,” you commented briefly as you passed him, hardly giving him a second glance to see if he was following.

Thaddeus was a bit taken aback by your words, pausing for a moment to mumble to himself: ”I’ll do…? Do for what?” He blinked and shook his head, rushing to fall in line behind you. He struggled to carry the pack that was nearly as big as he was, stumbling every couple of steps as he tried to balance himself.

”What do we have to do?” He questioned quickly, trying to keep pace with you. Great, still as talkative as he used to be. You could never forget his stupid rants, though they used to be more ill-intended, when he would muster up every possible insult and demeaning phrase he could to try and get you all upset. It worked against him, in the end.

You were tempted to pick up your pace and leave the fucker behind—there was no way he’d be able to keep up with you with that thing on his back—but you decided against it, lest the Brotherhood send you another squire.

”You just have to lug my shit around and try not to die,” you answered begrudgingly, “I will do everything else. That’s all you need to know.” You didn’t need another brainless squire getting in the way of your missions, so you hoped he’d take the hint and shut his mouth. But when did he ever?

”B-but the officers said you’d fill me in-”

You stopped suddenly, causing Thaddeus to run into you. You turned to glare at him the best you could from behind your helmet, but all Thaddeus could see was the intimidating blank stare of your metal face covering as you looked down at him.

“You will follow my command while we’re out in the Wasteland, or you will die. Is that clear?” You growled, taking a step towards Thaddeus while he took two steps back.

“Y-yes, my lord! I-I would never doubt you, m-my lord!” He responded enthusiastically, albeit nervously, eager to stay on your good side. That was going to get old fast. You turned back around to continue walking, slightly picking up your pace as Thaddeus hesitantly began following again.

”M-may I ask you something, though?”

You were unable to stop the sigh that came out of your mouth, the sound garbled and distorted coming out of your voice modifier. That made Thaddeus visibly shrink back, his mouth snapping shut at your disdain.

”Right, no! N-no time for talking. We-we have a mission to complete!” He exclaimed with a finger pointed in the air, unable to expel the shake in his voice from your previous order. Silence fell over the two of you for all of one minute before it was broken: “Do you think we’ll get in any fights out here?”

You were going to kill him, you were sure of it.

[sleepy-stitches]

back on the room cleaning grind. why is there so much stuff in here. who did this (me)

[bengiyo]

Hidden Agenda: Zo Experienced The Knowing

I was tagged by @respectthepetty this morning in her post about Zo and how much damage Puen did to him. At the end of the post she mentioned that Zo probably Knew who he was this whole time. I want to talk about the timing of this reveal, what it means for this kind of show, and how I feel about it.

I have admittedly been struggling with this show. I think Dunk is often a little hard for me to read, and I often wish that he hadn’t been given such an internal character to play. However, I think the team may be using that to their advantage to cloud our ability to read Zo. 

Zo began the series in a debate with Joke about how people need to be honest about their feelings before going into a relationship with someone, and he’s been nervous to approach Nita. We’ve also seen him showing dismay about possibly being a bad mentor to Pok, along with his general reticence to Joke’s advances. I think I’ve decided that I’m okay with the show recontextualizing much of what we’ve seen before, but I don’t generally like it. Sure, it rewards those who pay close attention, but there’s too much going on for me to do an extensive rewatch to see those scenes again in a new light. However, I like it for queer reasons. 

What fascinates me about our sudden reread of Zo as a Known Gay (placeholder term I use for everyone; Zo hasn’t identified himself; let me have fun) is we watched Zo go through this during their Chiang Khan trip when he realized Pok was seeing Jeng. At that time I only read Zo as concerned with being read as homophobic by his junior who couldn’t come out to him, but now it’s even sadder because Zo was not only concerned about being seen as homophobic he was also not being seen as a member of the community. 

The constant concern he expresses is that he’ll make people uncomfortable. He’s afraid to approach Nita, and has a huge panic when a not-date doesn’t exactly go over well with her. I thought this was part of his confused feelings for Joke, but it’s also about how Zo doesn’t trust himself in romance because of what Puen did. I feel especially sad for Zo because Puen messed him up so badly that he can’t even pursue an opposite-sex romance with confidence either. I felt like a part of Zo hoped that things would be easier if there wasn’t a gay component to the romance and yet he’s still feeling weird and uncertain.

As for whether Zo suffered The Knowing, I am not sure how far back Zo Knew. I can’t tell from his interactions with his mom, but it’s clear from his scenes with Puen and the matter-of-fact way he describes what happened to Joke that he had put a lot of thought into his feelings for Puen at the time. So, because of the way Puen’s actions continue to impact Zo, he goes on the board.

I'm at least relieved that as @justafriend-ql pointed out in her reblog that confirming that Puen did like him, and it wasn't all in Zo's head, allowed him to finally enjoy a moment with a guy he likes and who clearly likes him.

[thehistoriangirl]

Until Our Secrets Drift Us Apart [7]

I apologize because I'm rusty after taking so long in posting a new part of this story, but I hope I will catch the rhythm soon :D

Viktor x Fem!Reader---Modern AU/Marriage of Convenience--- 3.1K ---SFW

> MASTERLIST <- Previous // Next ->

Summary: Upon the surprising death of the CEO of Daxer Corp., the battle for the presidential chair began with unexpected violence. Threaten to lose everything you’ve been working on during your entire life; it’s time you must find a desperate solution to grasp the control over your part of the emporium, and even your own freedom. Which better idea than solidifying your subsidiary's future than ally with the rising tech company, HexTech? And oh, what a special type of alliance it would be…  

Tags: Not-So-Forced Proximity| Marriage of Convenience| Strangers to Lovers| Drama & Romance| Eventual Smut| Domestic Fluff| Post-Wedding|  Not Really Unrequited Love| Fake Dating| Eventual Happy Ending

Chapter Summary: The hunt for your mother's lost will hasn't ended, but Viktor is there to give you words of comfort when you need them--and perhaps even more than that. If you're willing to take it.

7: What Blooms in Winter

Mrs. Emma Quivar was all business when you crossed the spotless threshold of her office outlined in stainless iron and black marble.

Gone were the days where she would greet you with a kiss on the cheek while visiting your mother for business; but you weren’t the same shy teenager wishing to take the least space possible in the enormous penthouse your mother called home anymore.

You still remembered your mother’s words when Emma gestured for you to sit down, with her stubbornly chastising you to erase the word ‘friend’ while regarding her business partners. At the time, you considered it like another of your mother’s quirks, but now you had understood it, a tad too late, maybe.

“My child, hello, hello,” Emma said, her hands gesturing away for you to sit across from her. “I didn’t think you’d have a lovebird tucked away from the eyes of the family.” She chuckled, her gaze miniaturized by her glasses, and yet still piercing to rummage your thoughts. “Your mother would have loved to know about him, that way she wouldn’t have left thinking you were all alone.”

You doubted your mother would care for such a thing if that would’ve happened.

She decided not to marry for a reason, despite the countless business proposals laid over her desk. Just as she thought that there were only business partners instead of friends, she thought so of romantic relationships, carrying in the memories of the Daxer’s tradition of marrying by sole mutual convenience instead of real feelings. Those were frivolities that not even the real frivolities of wealth and power could meet all the time.

Or else—that was something no Daxer was inclined to even consider.

“I see you have read the news,” you muttered. Or perhaps someone had let her know.

“I wonder how you kept it hidden from your mother.” Her black eyes pierced you as Quivar looked at you for the first time, adjusting her glasses to look away from the computer. “You only work and go home. Where did you meet him? He’s… somewhat attractive, I’d say.”

A scoff was about to break free. You were too tired from your family trip for these games.

“Do you keep a copy of my mother’s will? I need it.” Emma was a placeholder in the stock bureau, not much, but she would be interested in how the fight for the CEO position will develop. I know you were appointed with one copy.

Just as the other two ex-business partners of your mother, who preferred to bet on the more obvious winner of the competition, Mathieu.

"Hmmm. And how much will you value a thing such as that?" Emma said, with a hand on her heart. “I held your mother’s friendship very close to my heart.”

It was always about taking. Demand with an unfair deal—and you were also guilty of this, asking Viktor to fake a marriage with you, dragging him into this chaos for a menial reward.

Spend all those upcoming years with you when he could go on and live his life, find certainty instead of more questions after every not-so-accidental touch, the moments right after separating away from a kiss.

Your eyes hardened. “What do you want?”

She pointed at her computer with a sigh. “HexTech is such an ever-growing enterprise; from industrial mechanics to more specialized fields. It has a bright future." Emma smiled. "I hope some of its light can be cast upon me."

Your lips parted, the answer surprising you both.

“No.” Words stern and cold. “I don’t own HexTech, I can’t integrate a new shareholder without consulting it with the board.” Most importantly, consulting it with Viktor and Jayce. It was their dream, after all. You didn’t have any right to tamper with it. “I can give a percentage of my company, FireBird Security, but HexTech is off-limits.”

Emma crossed her arms, the red blazer she wore getting all wrinkled. “Why is that? Your husband won’t approve, by any chance?” She said, her eyes twinkling with mockery. “I thought he loved you dearly.”

“I love him dearly, that’s why I’m not doing anything behind his back.”

The silence hung heavy between you two, both your and her eyes widened,  lips slightly ajar at the sudden outburst.

Your heart picked up speed, skin got hotter, almost prickling with shame. What was that? Standing up with a jump, you decided to cut the meeting short as now it was clear that Emma wasn't on your side anymore—if she even was at the beginning.

Emma clicked her tongue. “You’re still very naïve,” she told you. “To think that man wouldn’t have accepted already if given the chance of being in your place.”

You conjured Viktor's golden eyes shining like molten gold against the evening sun, the chestnut locks of his hair moving with the soft breeze that smelled like grass and summer flowers as you cradled his head on your lap.

You chuckled, amused at Emma’s words, thinking that they had gotten out Léonie’s first, echoed in this office as your aunt poisoned her mind. 

“Say hello to my aunt once you reunite again,” you stated toward her, your eyes boring holes into her face as you glared at her from above your shoulder before closing the door with a slam.

It was so easy for Léonie to move across society picking her best moves while you struggled to even get a foot in this place, which one each day you were convinced wasn’t for you.

Would the voices that whispered usurper ever cease? Even if you got to sit in the CEO's chair? Because you could imagine them bouncing, reverberating with an endless echo inside such a big and quiet office.

What would have been of you if your mother had never adopted you?

For a moment, a childish part of you imagined you working in a suburban area of this bustling city, crossing paths with Viktor once by crossing a street, with either of you looking back.

You couldn't know if the strange sensation located in your chest was sadness, or the eerily unfamiliar sense of relief.

The cozy apartment smelled like coffee when you opened the door, a warm air coming from the swinging door against the chill of the arriving autumn outside.

Viktor was hunched over the coffee table in the living room, papers scattered everywhere alongside a pen that had exploded, stains of blue ink shining against the lamp nearby. Rio was nuzzled against some blankets, deeply asleep.

His brows frowning in focus relaxed at the sight of you, his golden gaze turned toward your figure as you were taking your shoes off.

He smiled. “Hello,” he said, the pen held in his hands clicking in a rapid rhythm as he flapped it between his fingers. “I made coffee, please feel free to drink some.” Viktor chuckled. “It wouldn’t do good to, eh, drink it all by myself.”

“Thank you,” you said, taking off the coat that now was too warm inside the cocoon of the apartment. “I think I’ll take some tea, though.” You tried to smile when he looked at you. “I need something… relaxing.”

Viktor settled down the papers then, taking the handle of his cane tucked in the armrest. “Did your meeting go badly?” he muttered, standing up to walk toward you.

You nodded, trying to curve your lips upward without much success. You didn't wish to burden him with your problems—despite how much you had dragged him already. Sometimes such thoughts kept you up at night, looking at the dim golden light of the living room lamp on way past 1 AM. And you couldn't help but wonder if, in those hours when the silence ate you away, he was regretting his choice.

“I’ll make you a hot chocolate, hmm?” Viktor was already walking toward the kitchen.

“You don’t have to,” you heard yourself stutter. “I’m sure you’re busy.” Just like you, he always was.

Viktor gestured away. “Don’t worry about it. Jayce always tells me I have to take small breaks.” He looked at you with a little smile. “Maybe I’ll start following his advice.”

“With some luck, not all his advice,” you mumbled, which made him chuckle.

“If you think his advice is… questionable, you should wait to hear mine,” Viktor told you, an eyebrow raised.

“Please do tell,” you said, with him helping to pull out a stool in front of the breakfast bar.

“Well, I think—"

You decided the bad idea of opening a package of cookies that were lying there, the sound waking the cockatoo up, who squeaked “Viktor!” before flying to pose next to you in the breakfast bar, her little head bobbing side to side as she looked at your fingers sheepishly taking a cookie out.

“No, Rio. We’ve talked about that,” Viktor scolded her.

You raised the cookie toward the bird. “Here,” you told her in the softest voice you could manage.

Rio lounged at it, breaking the surface with its beak. But then she noticed that you weren’t pulling the treat away, only rotating it so she could bite into it again.

It could be that Viktor was surveilling her, but Rio started to bite slower, her head gently tilting toward the cookie. Even so, you gave Viktor the remaining core of it so he could feed her so close to his fingers. You could still remember the hot pain of the bird’s beak.

“Say thank you, Rio,” Viktor said once the cookie had gone into her stomach.

The bird flapped her wings, flying away toward Viktor’s room.

“Rio!”

"It isn't necessary," you said, although amused by your (fake) husband's relationship with his pet. In other circumstances, you would've joked that Rio was that adopted daughter reticent of trusting her new stepmother. "Don't worry about it."

Rio squeaked, returning triumphant over the breakfast bar. She wobbled to step in front of you, dropping a sunflower seed near your hand and then flying away as quickly as she had arrived.

You looked at the seed. “This is for you.” You held it between your fingers, offering it to Viktor.

“Oh no, no.” Viktor was smiling, gently wrapping his hand over yours with shy fingers, a touch barely as light as the morning sun cast over your face in early spring. “That’s for you.” He chuckled. “A little gift.”

You felt his warm fingers beneath your hand slightly cold from just being outside, your eyes drawn to his in a gentle motion that still made your heart jump. “Maybe I should plant it, and see what blooms from it,” you muttered.

“I have a little pot,” he answered in the same tone, his hand still hovering over yours.

“Then it’ll be like our little child?” You couldn’t stop yourself from saying, feeling stupid as soon as the words were gone from your mouth and into the world.

Instead of hearing a mocking laugh, or to feel his awkward gaze, Viktor smiled and nodded. "Don't let Rio hear this but… yes," he said, leaning against you to mutter such a secret. "And something tells me that it will be as pretty as its mother.”

You giggled like a fool, feeling your face starting to feel hot.

It wasn't impossible not to take him, the way his face was highlighted by the dim golden light from the living room against the bright white bulb in the kitchen, how his eyes diverged from your eyes toward your lips.

Your fingers grabbed the edge of the bar to lean against him, closing the seemingly abysmal distance between each other’s lips.

Always taking.

Today, though, you wished to give.

Shyness tried to overcome your bold move, redirecting the motion of your lips to pose toward his cheek instead, in a mere fleeting peck. Yet, your resolution was higher, closing your eyes shut with force as if you were about to jump off a cliff.

He tasted like coffee, the motion of his open lips slow and unsure, scared you’d pull him away after realizing your mistake.

Though in this moment you could barely register the action like so. It felt… right, something supposed to be. And even if part of you stayed thrilled at the thought, the other was terrified.

Viktor's hand slipped into the curve of your hip, his fingers finding soft and aching skin, wishing for his touch without realization.

If you’d lived in a lie for the last couple of months, what would Viktor consider your relationship to be? Especially with so many blurry lines starting to conjoin and erase in unknown patterns to try and figure out the result—would it be chaos or art?

One moment, you were still in the kitchen with the purr of the milk starting to boil, and the other you were standing at the edge of the restaurant rooftop, with the wind blowing cold at your back and Viktor's warmth hugging you closer, both trying to take you in and to cover you from the harshness of the world.

Who knew what else you'd done if the stove wasn’t starting to hiss in anger from the abandonment of the milk that was threatening with spilling out the pot.

Viktor muttered a curse that you couldn't listen to, not between the cacophony of your beating heart and the sounds of your obnoxiously loud breath.

He went to pour a tablet of chocolate inside the milk, stirring the contents until the forming foam went away. You stayed sitting across from him on the breakfast bar, playing with the little seed inside your sweaty palms.

“Um…” you said, cringing at the sound of your voice in such a quiet room. "You said you have a piece of advice for me?"

Viktor’s cheeks were bright pink, eyes glued to the hot chocolate in the making.

“Eh, yes.” He cleared his throat. “Well, my advice may sound bland, but I think you can make good use of it. I’ve noticed that we have more in common than… ah—than we might initially thought.”

You blinked, it wasn’t at all surprising. You barely saw each other between the long journeys from work, the only sign of companionship being the slits of light filtering beneath the bedroom doors at night.

“Which is why I struggle with asking for help,” Viktor muttered, taking two cups from the cupboard and pouring steaming hot cocoa inside them. “Which is why I would like to offer you my help in anything you could… eh, need.”

You were about to protest, the phrase, ‘you don’t have to’ almost slipping out your lips.

“I don’t do it out of obligation,” Viktor stated, giving you one of the cups and settling in a seat across from yours. “I mean it.”

That was the scary part, because if he did—then what?

“I… I don’t know if I can give you that back. What you’re giving me.”

“I don’t seek retribution,” Viktor called your name, hands hovering as if trying to land atop yours.

“That’s unfair,” you said, thinking about all the passing deals and contracts you’d done in the past, all the infinite pile you’d do for the rest of your life, and how to think of Viktor like just a passing signature between all those pages made you feel.

“Perhaps.” He nodded. “But I won’t pressure you. I know what was getting myself into, and I abide by it, by all of it.”

It was the first time in the day that you smiled, lips curved and with your eyes crinkling close in half-moons.

“Thank you, Viktor.” His words had stirred an idea.

He copied your smile, the glimpse of his teeth glistening against the white bulb of the kitchen lamp. “Of course,” he simply said, sitting idly and silent until you had drunk all the hot chocolate and waiting for you to excuse yourself toward your bedroom.

You'd wish to say that night your dreams came easier, but instead, you felt your thoughts going in circles as fast as a hurricane's, pouring rain of ideas and possible paths to enter between the storm that was starting to form ahead.

The next day, Viktor and you took the day off due to a sudden snowfall that had covered the roads back to the metropolis.

You were ready to start with the preparations of your upcoming plan, yet alas, you knew you needed to visit someone in person to strike ideas first, especially after all the time you spent apart.

He knocked on your bedroom to give you a small plant pot on the side of your hand right after having breakfast together, the ambiance still charged with the unprompted kiss from last night.

“You can use soil from the plants on the balcony," Viktor told you, his cane tapping the floor. “I will go to buy some more later. Ah—yes, I put some of Rio’s seed peels at the bottom, like compost.”

Thanking him, you waited to hear his bedroom door close before emerging toward the living room, scooting to see if Rio was free before opening the balcony door, shivers running down your spine with the sudden freezing air blowing across your face.

“It’s too cold to put you outside,” you said to no one in particular, because the seed was inside your bedroom, over the nightstand. The sky was pure grey, and white snow starting to get dirty with the kids and the cars as the suburbs started to stir with life.

Then, you settled the little pot by the window, making a small hole in the middle with your finger, plopping the little, lonely seed inside, and then lovingly covering it with the black soil that was starting to make your fingers grow cold. It was humid already, so you let it be.

You hoped the plant would survive the inclement weather, that perhaps, once it grew bigger, you could get it another, bigger pot.

The only thing you could do was wait—perhaps the most terrifying thing in a world you were convinced would fail you.

[auxiliarydetective]

↬ OC Verse Trading Cards

Here it is! The reason (well, one of the reasons) for why I've been so inactive lately. I saw this super cool trading card template by @squea and @buttertrait and thought it was super fun, so I wanted to make something similar for my mutuals and myself. And, as you can see, I rediscovered my love for art deco on the way, so it's very art deco lol

You can find the template to make your own cards here - and I explicitly encourage you to make your own, because I was kinda hoping I would get to see cards of you guys' OCs and we could collect them all in a binder like this one. It would be really fun! (The number next to the name is the power level btw - I wanted to imitate a set of Star Wars trading cards I used to collect as a kid) Make sure to @ me when you do and tag your post with #ocversetradingcards!

I tried to make the template as accessible as possible so that even beginners should be able to use it without any issues. So, I color-coded the layers!

The red layers are ones you shouldn't touch. They make up the main frame of the card. The orange layers are ones where you can play around with the colors, but that's for advanced photoshop/photopea users. The green ones are the ones where you put in text! Edit those freely. Blue ones are ones you have to select and move as a batch - if you don't know how to do that, check below the cut ^^

You'll need to download these fonts:

Park Lane (name & power level)

Market Deco (main text font)

Artisual Deco Black Italic (blog url)

Below the cut, you'll find a tutorial for the template and a list of the image resources I used - Quick info for everyone, including the more experienced Photopea users: Save your image at 50% quality. The template is a big file and the exported image will also be pretty big if you don’t save it at a lower quality. 50% is what you can see above and I think it's a nice size-quality ratio.

Tutorial Time

Opening the File

Step one: Get either Photoshop or Photopea. Photoshop costs money, Photopea is free and runs in your browser. Take three guesses which one I use. Yeah, it's Photopea. As such, this tutorial will be Photopea-centric, and I also have no clue what the Photoshop interface looks like, so I can't really help you if you work on Photoshop. But I'm told they're essentially the same, so...

Step two: Download the fonts listed above from the links in this post.

Step three: Click on the link above to go download the template. It's a bit of a big file, so I put it into a zip file for you. Don't worry, you don't need a special program to open it. Photopea will do that for you.

Step four: Open Photopea. Click on "File" -> "Open..." and select the "TradingCardTemplate" zip file.

Step five: Click "File" -> "Open..." again and select the zip files for the fonts. This will import them to Photopea. There are also preview images included in at least one of the zip files for the fonts, so just close the windows for those projects when they pop up by clicking on the little "x" next to their file name. You only need the "TradingCardTemplate.psd" tab to be open in your Photopea window.

Great! Now you're all set to edit!

Editing the name, power level and blog url

I decided to group these together because they function essentially the same way

Step one: Select the typing tool. It's the little "T" symbol in the toolbar on the left side of your screen.

Step two: Select the layer of the text you want to edit. The blog url one is in plain view. For the name and power ones, you need to open the corresponding folders first. They're the green layers in the folders!

Step three: Click on the text you want to edit. It's easiest to aim for the middle, that way you have the least chances of missing. The typing tool is a bit finicky with that sometimes, especially if the text is small.

Great! Now you can use your keyboard to delete the placeholder text and replace it with your own! The power level will only fit two digits and picking "00" will look bad. Your OC should have at least some power. They need it to breathe.

Changing the size of the name text

As you might be able to tell, the basic text size only works for fairly short names. So, you might have to make it smaller for your OC's name to fit

Step one: Enter your OC's name as described above.

Step two: Select the text as you would anywhere else in your browser.

Step three: Above the little tag where it says "TradingCardTemplate.psd", there's an options bar. You'll find a box there labelled "Size" with a box that says "150px" and a down arrow next to it. Click on the down arrow and a slider will pop up. Play around with that slider until your text has a good size. Then click on the checkmark.

Step four: Switch to the transformation tool. It's the cursor with the directional cross next to it, at the top of your left-hand tool bar. Move your text so that it aligns well with the left side of the frame but make sure it's below the middle.

Step five: You now have to select two layers at once. The text layer and the frame for the name tag. Do do that, either press and hold your control key on your keyboard while selecting the other layer or toggle the control key using the on-screen keyboard at the bottom left of the toolbar. If you use the toggle, don't forget to untoggle it after.

Step six: On your horizontal toolbar above your project window, click on the icon that's a horizontal line with two boxes centered on it.

Congrats, your text should now be centered!

Adding in your OC picture

Step one: Open the "Picture" folder and select the layer beneath "Add picture here". This will make sure your picture will be in the right spot. Also make sure to click on the eye next to the "Pattern" layer tag to make it go invisible.

Step two: Select "File" -> "Open & Place..." and pick a nice image.

Step three: Once the image has been imported, make sure you change the zoom percentage to 100%, that way the image doesn't look pixely or weird. Click on the checkmark.

Step four: Resize your image so your OC fits nicely into the frame. The image should fill the entire space inside the frame and can stick out as much as you want.

Step five: Right-click (or press and hold, if you're on mobile) your image' layer and select "Clipping Mask".

Perfect! Now your image should no longer stick out of the frame. Feel free to adjust your image's coloration, brightness etc. by selecting "Image" -> "Adjustments" and your preferred action.

Changing your stats bars

This works the same for each bar and I tried to make it as simple as possible.

Step one: Open the corresponding folder.

Step two: Select the set of three blue layers together. You can do this by selecting one layer normally, then selecting the other two while holding your control key or while having it toggled using the built-in on-screen mini keyboard at the bottom left of your screen. If you use the toggle, don't forget to untoggle it after.

Step three: Switch to the transformation tool (the one at the top of your left-hand toolbar, it's a cursor with a directional cross) and move your layers. By moving them to the right, you'll reveal more of the gold underneath the overlay. More gold = higher level of the corresponding stat.

Great job! Now adjust the bars to your liking.

Saving your project + card image

To save the project: Click on "File" -> "Save as PSD". This will download the current project under the same name as the file that you downloaded it as. So, it will be called "TradingCardTemplate (1)" or something similar. Make sure you change the name in your files so you know which is which. Alternatively, you can also change the name of the project by double-clicking the little square that currently says "TradingCardTemplate" and type in your new name. If you save again now, it will show the new project name! Make sure to save your project if you want to be able to recover it and/or work on it later!

To save the card image: Click on "File" -> "Export as >" and pick your preferred image file type. I suggest JPG for best results. Make sure to turn the quality slider to 50%, then hit the save button. This will download an image file of your chosen type, under the same name as the project name. To change that name, refer to the bullet point above or go to your files :)

Advanced: Changing the BG color of the pattern

Step one: Select the pattern background of either the name tag, power score or picture and turn it to 100% opacity.

Step two: Color-pick the current background color of the pattern.

Step three: Click "Image" -> "Adjustments" -> "Replace Color..." and click on the colored rectangle in the new pop-up. Replace the default color with your color-picked color. Now use the Hue, Saturation and Lightness sliders to get a new color that you like. Note down your slider values for later so you have them for the other elements.

Step four: Color-pick your new color and select the corresponding solid background layer. For those layers, click "Edit" -> "Fill..." and make sure you have "Foreground" and "Normal" selected, your Opacity is 100% and you have "Preserve Transparency" checked.

Step five: Don't forget to turn the opacity of your pattern layers back down to 60%.

Congrats! You have your colors changed! Repeat this process for the other two patterned elements.

Extra advanced: Changing the card's background color

NOTE: I DON'T recommend this. You can do it, but it's a lot of work.

Step one: Select the background layer and change its color to the new color you want. You can do it with the "Hue/Saturation..." adjustment, with the "Fill" edit as described above, or whichever way you want. Color-pick your new color.

Step two: Open the smart object PSDs for the frames for the frames for the picture, the name tag, and the power counter by double-clicking on the preview image of the layer.

Step three: Select the lowest colored layer of each and change its color to the same as your new card background color. Click on "File" -> "Save (Smart Object)". Close the project windows.

Step four: Open the folders for the various stat bars and select the "Color Overlay" layers. Change their colors the same way you did for the other layers. Warm colors and high-saturation colors will most likely not look good here and you might need to find a different way of making the stat bars look good. Playing around with the "Brightness/Contrast" adjustment layers above might help, but I can't promise anything. This is the main reason why I don't recommend changing the card background color. The stats bars are adjusted to the background color.

There we are! Either your card looks very pretty now or you understand why I don't recommend this. Either way: Good job!

Resources from Freepik:

Corners by tartila Power counter frame Picture frame by pch.vector Stats bar by tartila Pattern

Taglist (we're bringing out all fandoms today): @starcrossedjedis @oneirataxia-girl @daughter-of-melpomene @bravelittleflower @box-of-bats @fluffle-system @wheresmybloodynauglamir @nanukanal @supermarine-silvally @cody-helix02

[englass]

Plains and Valleys

Pairing(s): John Seed x Deputy/Reader

Warning(s): John is his own warning; Possessive/Obsessive Behaviour; John being creepy; Stalking; kind-of Crack, this isn’t taken all that seriously; Not Beta’d; Experimental Piece; NSFW/Explicit, my first (and likely only) attempt at smut -- please kindly let me know if there’s anything else I should warn of here, I don’t know what I’m doing.

Word Count: 4,020

A/N(s): The title is basically a placeholder for while I was writing this because I had no idea what to name it... and truly, I can’t be asked to think of something better for a piece that only exists to see if I can write smut (spoilers: I can’t, but I’m not letting a completed piece rot away in my docs just because I’m embarrassed; I worked and spent time on this damnit!).

On another note, I was gonna just give this piece over as my contribution to WIP day that @derelictheretic was kind enough to tag me in, but decided against it. I’ll post a proper response and WIP later this week or next, so bear with me please hun! Just wanted to get this out there first.

- - -

John had a problem.

Well, he had many problems. Not least of all his growing frustration at the continued resistance from the Fairgraves' in his pursuit for the deed to their ‘establishment’. He also had been unable to play with Affirmation as regularly as he would have liked, so that put him in an even fouler mood than usual. And he wasn't going to even think about the stress he was starting to feel with his brother constantly breathing down his neck; always questioning his actions as though he were a child constantly getting into trouble and needing twenty-four hour monitoring, always asking after the progress of things that take time. A lot of time.

John may have a substantial amount of money at his disposal, but that does not mean he can work miracles.

Not all of the time, at least.

And his problems don’t stop there, oh no. Despite what many likely thought of him (and what a stroke to his ego that is, knowing that people think of him) John was well aware of his problems, his faults. He’d spent a lot of time getting intimate with them, after all; and every now and again they'd crop up like daisies, weeding their way to the surface yet again. He’d become rather good at managing them, if he said so himself, but even John wasn’t perfect (he was damn close to it though, as many would agree). And one fault he hadn’t quite been able to trim back was his tendency to fixate on things; obsess. 

He obsesses over his plane, over its upkeep and maintenance, its flight records, the slightest scratch that wasn't there the day before-- how the fuck did that get there!?

He obsesses over the details on the manifestos he’s given, the contracts he’s made, dates and times for resource collection, rotations, their members' personal records (he denies having those), PR management, expenditures and everything in between. 

He obsesses over his home, the décor, the colours and lighting, materials used, the whole aesthetic. How he presents himself, the clothes and brands he wears (it’s vain but he needs those creature comforts), his posture, his presence, his overall look that creates an identity that just screams nothing but John.

He obsesses over things.

He knows he does. It’s a faulty blessing.

And he has found something new to obsess over.

John has had a few run-ins with the local Deputies of Hope County in the past. Mostly Joey Hudson, delightful as she is, but ordinarily he doesn’t think too much of them. After all, he’s untouchable and they all know it. There’s no reason to worry about them, let alone waste his precious free time (what little he gets of it) thinking about them. They’re insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Nothing but an inconvenience, an annoyance at most. Completely irrelevant.

But then he saw her.

Standing there, innocuous, looking out at something (for something? Nothing?) in the distance. 

There’s a hitch, the catch of a stilted breath.

Where they were keeping her hidden he has no idea, but he is taken the moment he catches that rogue glance of her.

And, strangely, he doesn't know why.

Sure, John and his brothers have been in this County for a good while now and he has never seen her before, so it’s perfectly normal for him to be curious about the unfamiliar face in town. Nothing wrong with that, it’s innocent enough.

Except there’s everything wrong with that.

Because that’s not it.

He can’t even blame his wandering eyes on her appearance; she’s wearing that drab uniform that even a charity shop wouldn’t take, and it does nothing to enhance whatever natural beauty she may have hidden underneath it. Although, the girl-next-door look she gives off is begrudgingly cute (if he dared to utter the word unironically).

Honestly, she’s not the type of woman that he typically would have paid any special attention to back in his lawyer days. Fucked her stupid maybe, for the extra notch in his bedpost, but he likely wouldn’t have taken her number or thought too much about her afterwards. Relegated to just another lay in a long line of bed partners that he doesn’t remember all the names of.

To be blunt, she isn’t anything special.

And maybe that’s part of the appeal, what hooks him in. Because she is different; unassuming and uncomplicated, modest to a point of simplicity. And yet there is something about her that he can’t actively see or name from his spot across the street that has drawn him in without even trying. And he doesn’t know what or why.

It’s as infuriating as it is intriguing.

Perhaps there is some iota of truth in what Joseph had said to him a while ago, John supposed silently to himself at the time: the simplest of things can be beautiful, in their own unconventional ways.

Although his brother could have said as much with far less words, verses, and vague allusions to a potential future that might never be-- a spark of sudden change that sets a new course in motion; scales tipped by the most consuming of emotions; scorched by a soul so deceptively unremarkable that no one would have thought to believe just how uniquely special they would become--

…

…… 

… Huh… 

John creates a special slot in his increasingly hectic schedule just for her from then on out.

He goes out of his way to find more reasons to harass and bother the local population, all in a fruitless attempt to get lucky and have her answer their call for aid and come and tell him what a bad boy he’s being. (Annoyingly she never turns up, though.)

He makes calls and pulls some strings to the businesses he’s procured, makes inquiries to anyone that would listen to him, including those doing menial tasks or even going through their Atonement (they don’t understand the relevancy of his questioning and he may have been a little harsher with them than he should’ve been because of it), and all in the name of his personal investigation into her.

After all, he had argued to himself in front of a cork board covered with documents and pictures of her with a feverish flavour, what sort of Herald would he be if he didn't know everything about everyone living in his-- their, his and his brothers, soon-to-be County?

His invasive and not completely legal search into this new Deputy (and she is new it turns out, freshly transferred in fact) goes on for a full, nonstop month before -- during one of his totally-random-and-not-planned stops into town -- he discovers something else about her.

When he first saw his Deputy (and doesn’t that feel good to say) she was alone, leaning against the wooden beam of the Sheriff’s Department’s porch and staring out into the distant fields; the late afternoon sun haloing her figure in its golden warmth, its light making the colour of her eyes blaze bright and her hair shine silkily. The perfect picture of ease.

This time, when he finally manages to spy another in-person look at her, he finds that she has company. She’s standing next to the ever friendly Hudson, posture held strong by an understated confidence and arms casually crossed beneath her bust, an amused smile on her decidedly pretty face as Hudson talks animatedly about something that he can’t hear.

And she’s looking up at her.

John blinks, and blinks again.

He’s definitely seen her file, he even remembers glossing through her medical records (which he would most assuredly deny having if anyone asked), so he knows how tall she is. But for some reason it apparently hadn’t quite registered to him until now what that would look like in a physical comparison between the two of them.

He knows that the lovely Hudson is a couple of inches shorter than him, not too far off from meeting him eye-to-eye. His Deputy, from what he can see, is about a full head shorter than Hudson. Which would put her, what, roughly just about eye-to-chest with him...?

He thinks about it. Thinks about her next to him, imagines what that would look like. Thoughts surprisingly innocent as he wonders after clichés of reaching for something that she can’t reach, of cocooning her in his arms as he effortlessly wrangles her into his lap. Envisions the domesticity of easily resting his head on top of hers as he holds her from behind, slotting himself into the mould of her figure like matching puzzle pieces, perfectly meant to be and belong… 

A high pitched, shaky sound slips free at the mental reel.

It’s not a secret the type of life that John used to live. He has been with numerous types of women, something he used to take a great deal of pride in, and has indulged in and explored his fair share of kinks in the comfort of expensive silk sheets. But who would have guessed that the former playboy, John Duncan now John Seed, would have a thing for domestic bliss.

Or rather, domestic bliss with little. ol’. her.

John makes the executive decision then and there to talk to his Deputy as soon as possible. Preferably alone. Without interference.

It feels like forever before he gets the opportunity.

A week later, on a daily walk through Falls End that has only admittedly become a thing in order to check up on the lucky woman of his blazing affections (I am not stalking her, Jacob, he had grounded out menacingly to his accusing older brother over Sunday dinner; who proceeded to look on at John with a slow quirk of an eyebrow), he finds his ever elusive Deputy resting around the corner of the Sheriff’s Department’s building. Eyes closed, head down, arms crossed, and safely concealed in the shade; unsuspectingly calm in her desired time alone.

And John is quick to ruin it.

He can’t help himself, he really can’t. The opportunity is here and he would be remiss to let it pass him by.

Even if she does look rather serene.

He's seen a few photos of her, more than a few actually-- albums worth even, so he knows what she looks like up close. He even printed one out (it’s a favourite of his, a near perfect replica of the first time he saw her) and has it framed on his bedside table; but it turns out no amount of photos quite do the real her justice.

The closer he gets to her the more he notices how petite she is, how the loose yet deceptively form-fitting hug of her bland uniform subtly accentuates the curves and slopes of her modest figure; the daintiness of her fingers as they rest against the exposed, smooth skin of her arms; that familiar magnetic draw snapping to life in the colour of her eyes as they lazily open, sparkling as he gets closer and she looks up at him, wide and wondering.

Innocent.

Oh, he was so wrong about her, he realises wondrously. Did her such a disservice in his initial judgement of her all those weeks ago. She is far from average.

And being here in front of her, close enough to touch, to be able to easily reach out and trap her against the wall and between his arms if he so wanted to, safely protected under the cage of his form -- her neck craning back in order to comfortably gaze up at him, meeting his eyes as he stares down at her… 

It makes something inside him go wild.

John lays the charm on quick and swift, hand attractively running through his hair as a practised but handsome smile lights up his face, eyes twinkling through his lidded gaze with an aweing hunger he knows he is failing to keep hidden.

Getting the first word in, he leans close to the wall, not quite putting his full weight against it (his shirt was expensive) but close enough to allow him a moment of privacy with her by limiting her field of view to only him. Blocking out everyone-- everything else with his taller frame (and doesn’t that thought spark a sudden twitch of interest) as he eagerly monopolises her attention.

Daringly he edges further into her space while he talks ardently to her, truly basking in the unexpected pleasure he gets in watching her unintentionally baring her neck to him; being so beautifully submissive for him without consciously realising it. Amusement colouring his tone in pale notes as he watches the way her pretty eyes darken and narrow at his progressive disturbance and invasion of her time and space.

Fuck. He didn’t know it would be this intoxicating to be so close to her.

Even as he dances through conversation with playful words and hinting remarks, becomes enamoured by the soothing intonation of her voice as she is dragged along with guarded comments and wary retorts, he can’t stop the way his mind ever so sinfully wanders… 

It really would be so easy to have her up against this wall. To crowd her in with his frame on all sides and her vision filled with nothing but him. The centre of her universe and attention, him; and his hers. The concept of that sort of all-encompassing intimacy and devotion makes John shudder. Hungry all the more for it and the woman that has unknowingly given him a taste of what it could all be and become, of what that level of pure, unadulterated want is inspiring in him.

He could easily have her against this wall. Have her looking directly skyward up at him as if he were her moon and stars, as he looks directly down at her-- his entire world and more.

Snatch her thigh and hoist it up towards his waist. Have her balancing precariously on the tips of her toes and clutching desperately at him, trusting John to help hold and support her and keep her steady as he shields her from the world around them. Hides her away from the unworthy just as the unworthy have hidden her away from him. His lips sweetly latching onto hers, her taste finally on his tongue after all these weeks of wanting, involuntarily grounding his hips into hers as a desperate sound breaks within his throat.

Oh, John can visualise it now: the two of them breathing in each other's air, bodies flush as he tugs and pushes closer, her shirt riding up as it's snagged by the rough brickwork at her back, arching into him on an unsteady foot to escape its harsh bite. Teeth nipping teasingly at her lips and tongue licking moreishly into her mouth as his free hand roams down her stomach, pulls the rest of her shirt loose and fumbles in his eagerness with the buttons of her jeans, yanking the zipper down and shoving his hand below the waistband and into her underwear. Hearing her whine sweetly into his mouth as he feels just how wet she is for him, how much she wants him and how eagerly she welcomes him into her as he plunges his fingers into her slick cunt with a needy and quaking moan of his own. 

Would she want it quick and rough? His fingers thrusting knuckle deep as he presses tight circles to her throbbing clit, teeth at her throat as he claws into her thigh held tightly in the dip of his waist. Listening to how her moans get higher, her breathing gets quicker, turning into desperate little gasps before he tugs his fingers free of her; lips devouring hers in quick apology as he battles to pull his aching cock free, cursing lowly against her lips as his slick covered fingers slip on the metal of his belt. She’d help him, he knows she would -- such a good girl --, nipping and kissing him back with wanton sounds as she bats his hand away, revelling in the noises he makes for her -- only for her, only ever for her -- as she pulls him free; rolling her hips until his cock catches on her slit and he’s thrusting home into her.

Only then -- while feeling her walls flex around him, mouth hanging open as they both bask in finally, finally being so intimately connected to one another -- would he finally hike her other leg up to wrap fully around his waist, fully supporting her weight and driving himself deeper into her, one of his arms coming up to press into the wall beside her, hand caringly slipping behind her head; bracketing her in. Shivering as her breath warms his neck and she cries out for him.

And considering her height… fuck, he can only imagine just how tight she’d be for him, chocking his cock as she squeezes him, milking him for all he’s worth until his teeth are stained red against her lovingly maimed neck. His hips snapping into hers with a guttural growl, panting sensual snarls of encouragement into her ear as he demands and begs in equal measure that she touch herself for him, dexterous fingers chasing her end as he chases his own until-- she’s coming around him with a high and shuddery keen. Her soft walls sucking him deeper into her, legs locking tighter around his waist and keeping him there as he spills himself into the back of her hot cunt with a strangled moan. Claiming her as his as he presses in closer, plugging her full with his cock and cum and praying that it’ll take-- 

…

……

… Huh.

He will definitely be exploring that at a later date…

Or perhaps she wouldn’t want it like that. Wouldn’t want him to be so rough and careless with her. Maybe she would want him to go slower, to be gentle-- to be good for her, to take his time and truly enjoy and appreciate every sweet beg and whimper that falls from her perfect lips. Perhaps she wouldn’t want to fuck him at the back of her shabby place of work, or even anywhere out in the open; maybe she would prefer privacy, for him to make love to her. Would want him to steal her away into his home, to carefully lay her out on his bed and unwrap her like a delicate gift, hands tracing teasing paths along her body before spreading her wide for his tasting pleasures. Taking his time to truly savour her unique flavour on his palette, wanton sounds pressed into sensitive flesh as he takes her throbbing clit into his mouth and sucks.

Broad strokes of his skilled tongue parting her lips and drinking her down, fingers firm as they hold onto the soft meat of her thighs and hips, thumbs rubbing soothing motions into her skin as he opens her up for him. Urges her with hot breathes, praising words, the flick of his tongue and the dip of his fingers into her wet heat, to cum for him; pleads with sound and touch and a greedy haze over his lust-darkened eyes. The gravel in his gluttonous voice vibrating into her, in love with how she reaches and cries out for him as he tells her how good she’s being for him, how badly he needs her to cum for him-- a debauched sound choking out of him as she does. Completely enraptured as she reaches the height of pleasure -- pleasure he brought her, that he will always strive to bring her --, bearing witness to his own personal God-given vision as he watches her writhe against his sheets and listens to her songs of praise, easing her down from that divine high and back into his devoted embrace.

Kissing a line up to her bitten lips, answering her mewls with soft coos and grounding touches, brushing over a nipple before taking the perky flesh into his mouth with a brief suck and fleeting skim of teeth, letting go with a lingering kiss before moving across and repeating the process to its twin. Reluctantly drawing away to playfully nip and press wet kisses into the column of her throat before letting her taste the tanginess of her juices on his tongue. Languidly kissing as he strokes her sides, writing indecipherable words of affection into her skin, content to let her enjoy the bliss of post-orgasm before he slowly pulls away, descending back down the line of her body with a husky, ‘one more, just one more for me, darling...’ 

John knows he wouldn’t stop at just ‘one more’ though. Hopefully she’d be generous enough to give him a few more before he finally slakes his need for her.

And hopefully she doesn't see the hard-on he’s now sporting after such vivid fantasies.

In a particularly bold move, temptation spurred into a fever from improper imaginings, John reaches for her; fixates on a strand of hair that has become untucked from behind her ear. She tenses, muscles coiling tight as she gives him the most suspicious look somebody has ever given him before. He’s actually rather offended. And very hurt.

But it’s sobering, in its own way. Because suddenly he can hear Joseph’s voice in his head from last Sunday (what a turn-off…), advising him that if he wanted to pursue a relationship with this Deputy that he was so smitten with then he needed to be gentle, considerate.

John may have done his ‘research’ on her, extensively so, but that did not mean that he was entitled or even deserving of her affections. He could not expect her to be on the same page as him, especially considering he had yet to even interact with her at that point. She may not have even heard of him yet, Joseph had speculated-- John and Jacob quietly sharing a disbelieving look. Everyone in the County knew their names, and with her being a Deputy there was no way she hadn’t heard of them.

Regardless, Joseph’s point still stood: if John wanted a genuine chance with her then he needed to soften himself, to be delicate, more tactful with her. Demonstrate that he can hear and see her for all that she is and can be, and that he accepts her without reservation.

Think of it like Atonement, Joseph had supplied sagely, fingers steepled, she needs to willingly give her confession over to you, John. Her affections. You can’t just take them.

And to Joseph’s credit, that actually made sense to John.

Atonement was all about accepting one’s sins, confessing them to another whom they trusted would never condemn nor judge them for their past actions or choices; unburdening themselves so they may be reborn pure and untainted for the hopeful future ahead of them. In that regard, his pursuit of his Deputy wasn’t too dissimilar.

So in that brief moment, in that flash of hurt as she steels herself against his considerate gesture and where John remembers Joseph’s words, he pauses. Convinces himself to go slower, to not try to grab at her like a spoiled brat reaching for things that weren't his-- yet. Reigns himself in enough so he doesn’t give her anymore of a reason to potentially be wary of him, to which he has very likely just given her quite a few. Trying in his own distinct way to smooth over her obvious distrust of him.

John knows he’s made mistakes throughout his life. Many would say he’s not a good man, and he wouldn’t necessarily disagree with them. But seeing and learning of her, of recalling his brother’s words and advice, of the many fantasies he’s had before and even during meeting her in this moment, he thinks he could change that. Knows that, if she would have him, if she gave him the chance, he’d be good. He’d be good for her.

Joseph always talks about love, about the power and control it wields over people and-- admittedly, John doesn’t completely get it. 

But with her? For her? He thinks he just might.

… 

He thinks he already does.

[sol-shines]

@ your tags PLEASE talk abt your parker designs!!!

this is for you and @dreaming-of-stories-and-stars THANK YOU for enabling me :3 sorry this took a little bit

if you don't know what this is about i drew my takes on the parkers here !

rambles under the cut:

SO what i sorta wanted to do was make. each parker flow into the next while subtly changing in between ,,, something something losing yourself to the game, becoming unrecognizable. so let's cover it parker by parker:

prime: i personally Love the hc that the coin is parker's mom. so prime is a lil ancient roman coded guy. he's SOOOO eldest sibling coded help. like he and his mom have a very strained relationship but also he thinks that if he just does whatever she wants she'll finally be proud of him :P whoops! and yeah v explosive anger (firewalker reference!), leading to ego, leading to. You Know. anyway. oh ALSO the parkers get younger as we progress so :))) they all STARTED at 19 but have varying degrees of age. so prime is in his mid-thirties.

parker ii: AH the most elusive of the parkers. SO: in my personal lore interp, parker ii was created when prime starting to push back against the coin more and more to the point where it was becoming a problem. and prime of course is very destructive and makes a mess when he's angry. so ii came about from me going "...what if parker just. said fuck it and left. didn't give a shit about ego just didn't wanna play the game anymore and found a way out." and that's exactly what my ii did. absolutely fucking vanished and quit the game for good. somehow. which uhhh MIGHT have been what caused prime to go apeshit ("why does ii get to leave and i'm stuck here?") and end prehistory. whoops. so i wanted to make them look very vagabond-y. somehow got even edgier than prime (impressive). also they're abt 30-ish. and have crazy gender stuff going on. possibly transfem. "but how is that possible if you hc the parkers as transmasc-" shhh. i don't know <3

park3r: GOD i loved doing this one. this parker is such a bitch and i love him. the first commissioner parker, created bc "OKAY so we gotta make him more young and impressionable and less unstable AND take him out of this game bc very clearly Bad Things will happen if he stays" so they made. a chronically online teenager and made them commissioner AMDNFM. god yeah i love this design he's sooo. just a 19-year-old trying to fill an impossible role and putting on a cool face about it. tragic, yes. but they're gonna complain the whole time and make everyone else miserable too. fully believe he was just scared and out of his depth the whole trial :( oops why are parkers iii and iiii so sad. i drew him closer to mid-20s here but honestly he could easily be younger

p4rker: LOVE this guy's lore so my hc is that after the trial that killed park3r it was like "uhhhh FUCK we need a new one of those. stat." so. they just. took park3r's incin'd body (ik it's not really Canon that park3r was incin'd he just Died but. let me have this) and like. stitched it back together. so p4rker is covered in burns and stitched together like frankenstein all over, and they just threw a mask on them like "see!!! new guy!!" the result of this being they didn't have. a whole ton of time to add shit like Personality, so p4rker is the outlier in that they're very naive and even polite? they don't understand what all the fuss is about them and just wants to be. nice? shame he didn't stick around long :/ the drippy bits are a little percolation nod! in this particular drawing he's like 20 :(

pvrker is. obviously the least human. park3r was more of a prototype of a commissioner, p4rker was a temporary placeholder at best, pvrker... was well and truly made For The Game. and his appearance reflects that. kinda a combination of iii's bluntness and 4's naivety. in-universe some people think he's the most sinister or whatever bc he's so directly Controlled By ILB Shit and that's not NOT true but like. give him a break guys he's like 6 days old he's new at this :(

ANYWAY that's so long holy shit. here are my rambles i hope u like them. im So Bad at blaseball lore so someone yell at me if something i put in there isn't accurate but. yeag :)

[retrowhatever]

All the Horizon Fanfic Stats You Never Knew You Needed

So I did some data analysis. More graphs and lots of rambling below the cut.

I love graphs. And spreadsheets. And making my hobbies unnecessarily complicated. So obviously once I discovered that there's an unofficial ao3 api, I had to learn a new programming language so I could throw some math at my Horizon hyperfixation and make some graphs about fanfics. This post is the result of that rabbit hole, I hope you enjoy it!

Before we get started, I want to make one thing explicitly clear: this post is a celebration. It's a celebration of fanfic, authors, and the fandom in general. If you have something mean to say about a ship, a writer, or a fic, this ain't the place. I made these graphs and wrote this post as a love letter to a game I'm obsessed with and the incredible people who make the fan content that is my main form of sustenance these days lol, so let's keep the discussion positive.

One last thing: I generated these graphs from data that I pulled on Aug 4, 2022. Anything published after that won't be reflected here. Alright, here we go! Let's see some graphs!

Fanfic by Length

The first thing I wondered is what the average length of fic was. I did not include any fics below 100 words, assuming they were either art or placeholders, neither of which provide any useful information regarding number of words.

I defined the categories as follows:

Ficlet - less than 2000 words

Short Story - 2K-10K words

Novella - 10K-50K words

Novel - 50K-100K works

Behemoth (pun fully intended) - 100K+ words

Obviously, there's some blurriness at the category edges, but it's pretty clear most fics tend to be relatively short. I'm genuinely surprised by how many huge, sprawling works there are though - I definitely expected there to be a single-digit number of behemoth fics. Mad props to the folks writing those monstrosities for the rest of us to enjoy!

Fanfic by # of Chapters

This graph kind of underscores the point about most fics being relatively short. There are almost twice as many single chapter fics than all other fics put together.

A thing I think is relatively unique to fanfic as a medium though, is that a fair number of those single chapter fics are novella or even novel length. You're not often going to find a book at a bookstore that's tens of thousands of words and has no chapter divisions, but that's not unusual in fanfic.

Fanfic by Author

Okay, the first thing you need to understand about this graph is the following numbers:

1

2.6

Those are the median and mean fics published per author in the Horizon fandom, respectively. In case you slept through your stats class, what that means is most fanfic writers have written one or two Horizon fanfics. Now go back and look at the graph.

...yeah. We as fanfic lovers owe a lot to these folks. Most of them are on tumblr, so even if you don't have an ao3 account (same, babe, same) you have no excuse not to go show them some love!

Serie11 is @valaloy

SoupAndChaos is @soupandchaos

mythicait is @mythicaitt

DragonRose35 I couldn't find a tumblr for

Kittleskittle is @kittleskittle

VidalsQueen is @sun-and-shadow-aloy

NorthernGhost is @thatsgonnabeanogho

sunspot (unavoidedcrisis) is @sunspott

januarys I couldn't find a tumblr for

foibles_fables is @foibles-fables

unstable_grad I couldn't find a tumblr for

Pikapeppa is @pikapeppa

YoGrossDude is @yogrossdude

bioluminesce is @owlswatch

wandereringray is @wandereringray

escafiils is @chloefraazers

Fanfic by Rating

Okay, now things are getting spicy! First of all, if I'd had to guess the most popular rating, it probably wouldn't have been Teen. But, given how popular the "fluff" tag is (foreshadowing for the tag graph later in this post), I guess it shouldn't be that surprising.

Secondly, I'm clearly not the only one who struggles to understand what exactly the Mature rating is for, considering it's the least-used rating by a fair margin.

Fanfic by Ship

The most popular ships, colour-coded based on orientation. From left to right: mlm, straight, wlw, poly, machines(?????), unknown

I want to reiterate here that I made this post to celebrate the awesome Horizon fandom, so if you're thinking of using this graph to argue that one ship is better/more correct than another... just don't, k? Good.

I also combined similar tags, so if someone used all three of the tags "Aloy/Erend", "Aloy/Erend (Horizon: Zero Dawn)", and "Aloy (Horizon: Zero Dawn)/Erend (Horizon: Zero Dawn)" for the same fic, that's actually going to count as three fics in the Aloy/Erend column. I'll probably end up redoing this graph eventually with a less naive counting algorithm, but for now this is what we've got.

Now that we've got methodology out of the way, let's talk about some cool things this graph shows!

First, Kotaloy shippers obviously have a lot of things to say. Unlike the other five most popular ships, Aloy/Kotallo is the only one involving a character that wasn't in the first game. And it's the second most popular ship! Y'all are rabid and I love it.

Second, of the wlw ships, the second and third most popular ships involve a character from the DLC and a character who dies immediately after you meet her, respectively. You guys are out here making meals from crumbs and I am impressed. Also, though, why don't Petra and Vanasha get more love??? I'm unsurprised that Talanah and her favourite Thrush are the #1 ship, but I (a clueless straight, to be fair) loved both Petra and Vanasha and definitely expected to see more fic involving them.

Third, I love the variety here. This graph only includes ships with at least 10 fics, and there are so many different ships represented! There were tons more that had 5-10 fics too, and it honestly made me so happy to see that there were multiple fic options for almost any pairing in the game.

Fanfic by Tag

Y'all. Look at all the fluff. People always joke about making their blorbos go through it in their fanfic, but like. There is SO MUCH FLUFF. We all really just looked at these characters and went "well, they deserve nice things for a change", huh? I also love how popular canon divergence is - anecdotally, I usually see that tag on fics that are like "well, what if that shitty thing didn't happen?"

That's not to say it's all sunshine and rainbows. The next two most popular tropes are "angst" and "hurt/comfort", and as an enthusiastic consumer of both, I'm not surprised. But again, anecdotally I see a fair number of fics tagged with one or both of those and a "fluff" tag.

Going back to the ratings graph, where we learned that the most popular fic rating is Teen & Up, it shouldn't be surprising that both "First Kiss" and "First Time" are more popular tags than any of the more explicit sex ones. Also, given that Aloy grew up an outcast, I think the popularity of those tags speaks to how fun it is for both writers and readers to delve into what that means for her when it comes to sex and relationships.

Finally, the most-used content warning tags will surprise exactly no one, I think. Canon-typical violence (because duh), PTSD (growing up a literal outcast before finding out you're a clone made by an AI so you can save the entire world from extinction will do that to ya, not to mention all the shit Aloy's friends/lovers have been through in their own lives), and canonical character death (glares at GEMINI) are all pretty obvious choices.

Conclusion

Because I have zero impulse control, I'm already working on a part two for this post, where I will address such pressing questions as "Which ship has the most verbose authors?" and "Who's the gayest Horizon character?" as well as recklessly use the powers vested in me by the math and algorithm gods to find some hidden gem fics that you might not have read yet.

In the meantime, I would love to hear some more opinions on these graphs! I've commented on some of the things I found interesting, but there's lots more to address here, so feel free to reblog this post or snag any graph you find interesting to use in a post of your own. I only ask that you tag me if you do - because I want to read what you have to say!!

Also, if there's any stats or questions about Horizon fanfic that you're particularly curious about, let me know. I'm limited by the information available on ao3, but I will do my best to find you answers and include them in the next post.

Lastly, one final reminder that we're here to celebrate the awesomeness of Horizon fanfic, the fanfic authors, and the fandom in general. I will humbly accept all constructive criticism about my (somewhat questionable) statistical methods and data interpretation, but ask that you keep comments about ships, tags, authors, etc positive and productive. Remember these are real people creating free content for the rest of us, and don't yuck someone else's yum.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you found this half as interesting as I did!