#i was tempted to post the first one by itself but this is fine too

[feedgarf]

dump dump dump dump dump

[extremelyblackandwhite]

pairing: dad!bucky barnes x au pair!reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 10 years younger than bucky), smut (18+, dni if under 18)

author’s note:  hey guys! it's me, like wayyyy too many months later but i did promise i would post it this year even if it's like next year in a few hours but here it is!

masterlist

oh oh i'm falling in love, oh no i'm falling in love again, oh, i'm falling in love i thought the plane was going down how'd you turn it right around

Y/N stared in disbelief at the Sergeant, not entirely sure if she had heard him correctly. Maybe it was the Scotch. Could Scotch go bad, could it expire? Sure old Scotch was better than a recent one but surely there was some sort of limit as to how long a liquid can sit lost in time until it gives you some sort of poisoning. Surely malt and water couldn't last forever without causing some sort of illness or hallucination which would explain why Bucky Barnes had just told her he loved her. Or maybe he told her that he loathed her, that would make more sense.

      - I'm sorry, I think I didn't hear it right ... What did you say? - she asked and Bucky swore she was trying to kill him or maybe embarrass him. However, his ego was high on the three glasses of Scotch he already had.

      - I said I loved you.

      - You love me? - what else was there to ask. Maybe she was mishearing him again, yet it came more of a disbelief rambling rather than the question she meant it to be.

      - Yes. - he said, moving closer to her, his eyes more interested in the shade of her lips rather than her eyes which were sure to bring any grown men to their knees. - I love you, I really, really like you Y/N.

      - Like a friend?

Had Y/N been anyone else Bucky would've probably laughed and had Bucky been anyone else Y/N would hide in her bedroom until he disappeared. Things were ... different, she guessed. It felt different to hear it from him, different than when she heard it from Christopher or her first boyfriend or the first guy she ever liked. It felt unsure in the way which she didn't know how to reply, she didn't know when to reply. It was a mature and immature feeling, threading almost along the line of paradoxical. It was if the feeling itself verified her madonna persona yet tempted the whore which laid under, the temptress. It was both tempting and comforting for something that was so out of her reasonable comfort zone.

      - No, not like a friend. - he was close enough she could smell the remnants of his cologne, the scent of scotch in his breathe. - I love you like lovers do.

      - Is that what we are? Lovers?

      - Are you ever not questioning me?

      - It's a fair question, isn't it? - she raised her brow almost in defiance and moved closer, tempting him further. - I thought you liked my questions.

Bucky rolled his eyes before his hands grabbed her hips and moved her closer so their noses touched. They stared into each others eyes for what felt like a while, the mere sound of the wind brushing through the trees outside sounding like electricity until he made his move, moving closer until their lips collided. As if they'd done , they move closer to each other, their bodies pressing together in a heated embrace. Their lips meet in a passionate, lustful kiss, and the world around them fades away as they lose themselves in the moment. She pulled away, biting her lip almost in a painfully shy manner.

      - I should go back upstairs. I have to take Sadie to school tomorrow. - she cleared her throat, wiping her cheeks as if she could wipe the heat of her cheeks.

      - Of course. - Bucky moved away as she got up from the couch. - Hey, I can take her if you want to sleep. It's fine, I can go to the office later.

      - It's fine, it's my job. Uh ... good night, Sergeant.

She ran up the stairs like an embarrassed school girl, almost tripping on the bottom of her pyjama trousers, and rushed into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. What was she doing? She couldn't make out with her boss, that went against her contract ... I mean, it wasn't like there was a clause stipulating she couldn't make out with Bucky yet it was still highly unprofessional. He was her boss, her very attractive, tall and rugged handsome boss ... but her boss. Her boss who was sometimes unprofessional himself, he had even inserted himself into the Christopher situation. Still, she was a professional and a professional doesn't make out with her boss.

She laid down in bed with a huff, staring at the lights in the ceiling of her bedroom. Did Bucky had the same lights in his ceiling? He probably did, this was his house after all. The same house she was living in for free, the same house of the man who paid her a really good salary.

      - Y/N? - a knock on her door interrupted her mind's rambling. She got up and opened to see Bucky staring at his feet. - I wanted to apologise if I made you feel uncomfortable, it was unprofessional on my part.

      - No, no, it's my fault too, I mean ... I kissed you back. - she rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly.

      - Please don't apologise, I should've known better but it's damn good scotch, which isn't really an excuse. - he started rambling himself, looking at her like a high schooler would look a girl he really wanted to take on a date. It was cute. - Maybe we shouldn't drink more scotch.

      - Yeah, you're probably right.

He shrugged playfully before turning to go to back to his bedroom before he could do anything else he would regret, however, Y/N was still very much considering whether she should do something that she could regret tomorrow.

      - Sergeant Barnes? - she called after him, almost in a faint whisper so his daughter wouldn't wake up. - Are you gonna ask me out?

      - Excuse me?

      - You said you loved me. Are you gonna ask me out?

      - Do you want me to ask you out? - he smirked, crossing his arms.

      - I'm not gonna answer that question. - she met him in the middle with an equal smirk. - I wasn't the one who said I love you.

      - Yeah but I wasn't the one asking the boss to ask her out.

      - Ask me out, Barnes.

      - Is that an order?

Bucky was close, close enough she could see the smile lines resulting from and she couldn't help herself, she didn't want to help herself. She kissed him, her hand placed on the back of his neck as they kissed. It wasn't soft or sensual, it was needy, as if they would cease to exist. She pulled him towards her bedroom, her hands grabbing at his jumper to pull it over his head. She had heard he was very well built and she had caught glances of him shirtless before but seeing it so up close, every defined muscle, the texture of his skin made her want to scold herself for not having looked harder the other times.

      - I don't think I've been in this bedroom for this long. - he pulled her shirt over her head as he looked around the bedroom. It was her bedroom after all and she wasn't in the mood to usually let him inside to see anything. - Or seen you shirtless this long.

      - Do you ever stop talking? - Bucky smiled and looked at her.

His hands wandered down to her hips and his thumbs lightly brushed over her hips. He pinned her against the door, his leg between hers as he pressed himself closer to her. His lips drew a pattern from behind her ear to her collarbone, his fingers snapping her bra strap against her skin.

      - Do you know how long I've waited for this? - he chuckled as he felt her body close to his, the shape of her breasts pressed against his chests and the sweet nothings of the moans she was trying to keep from escaping. - You've been tempting me since the moment you walked through my door.

He chuckled as she held in a gasp, his body moving closer and closer to her. He turned her around, kissing her hard again and threw her in the body, covering her uncovered body with kisses as he massaged her skin. She felt him slide his hands just a bit further down, kissing and softly bitting her skin. The feelings are overwhelming and the mere foreplay of kissing and massaging is sending shivers down her body. Everything about him was making her go crazy.

      - Bucky, please. - he smiled and he kissed back as he let his fingers move down a just little lower. He leaned in and nuzzled into her more.

His thumb pressed over her clit just over her cotton white underwear, rolling it in small and torturously slow motions making her moan. The fabric moistened under his finger making him smirk as he extended his neck to kiss hers.

      - You're so wet. - he chuckled as he kissed down her legs and to the laced hem of her underwear. - You wanted me just as much as I wanted you.

      - Wait, what are you doing? - she cupped his face, pulling him up.

      - I'm gonna eat you out, baby. What does it look like?

      - I've never had anyone do that to me before so maybe we could skip it?

      - Christopher didn't eat you out? - he chuckled. - No wonder you're so wound up over some over the underwear play. No one is treating you right.

      - You really wanna talk exes?

      - If you let me eat you out, you won't regret it. - he looked at her waiting for her consent. Y/N weighed out the options and the benefits, mostly considering her memories of when Sadie was at her grandmother's and Bucky brought in flavour of the month Samantha and for the whole week Y/N could hear nothing but loud moaning. She wanted the loud moaning as well so she nodded her head.

Bucky grinned like a devil, kissing down her collarbone all the way to the hem of her underwear. His hands slide inside her underwear, pulling it down her legs and throwing it somewhere into the floor. He kissed the side of her knee, the 2 day old stubble of his unshaved beard burning the skin in a very good manner. His kisses continued down her knee to her calf as he placed her legs on his shoulders and lowered down to her heat. Bucky swore in that moment he could happily die in the middle of her legs happily surrounded by her scent. He kissed and bit the inside of her thighs, definitely leaving marks which would make sure she would never forget. His thumbs spread her wide open and his head fully lowered now, his tongue licking a long yet slow strip up to her clit. The sensation was new for sure, it was nothing like what she had ever felt before and as she was learning to adapt to the new feelings his tongue was causing, he starting suckling on her clit, his tongue ever so slightly teasing the top of it. She gasped in a moan, her hands gripping at his hair.

      - Bucky! - she said in between shallow breathes bringing him immense enjoyment that he was causing her. He started eating her out like a starved man, her fluids coating his chin and neck as he went in for another lick before he started to use his fingers. Her nails gripped the sheets.

      - Chris didn't treat you like this? - he came back up biting the side of her knee. - I bet not, which is why you're so wet.

      - Go back. - she almost pouted and Bucky couldn't say no. He went back down and started suckling on her clit while his fingers pumping in and out of her hole. Her fingers tightened around the sheets and on his hair and she started to see black spots in her vision, she attempted to control her breathe but found herself unable to do so as Bucky's mouth and fingers brought her to orgasm.

Her back fully hit the mattress and she stared at the lights in her bedroom with her mouth softly open as her breathes came out softly. Bucky kissed his way up to the corner of her mouth before fully kissing her, his knee rubbing against her core. She whimpered, leaning her forehead against his shoulder.

      - You're good? - he asked, kissing the side of her head.

      - I'm good. - her hands made their way to the top of his sweats, trying to pull them down.

      - Someone's needy. - he grinned as he helped her shake him out of his sweats and underwear. He grabbed her thighs and put her in positions before grabbing his cock and lining it up with her entrance. He looked into her eyes once more looking for reassurance before he sheathed himself inside her, groaning as he did so. Her legs wrapped around his hips, helping him bottom out as he leaned towards her to kiss her once more. - Can I move, baby?

      - Yes, please.

His hips moved ever so slightly making her moan which was a sign for him to move. His hand held hers and he began to thrust in and out, his balls hitting her bottom as he did. He drowned her moans with a kiss, moving again fast enough to make the headboard hit the wall. The bedroom filled up with their moans and the smell of sex as she reached the her last orgasm of the night. Once Bucky felt her release, he began chasing his own, throwing his head back and groaning. He finished inside of her, ropes of white spilling out from her hole and in the sheets.

He fell to her side and smiled, merely happy to look at the sight of her before the two fell asleep.

(...)

She woke up next morning to the faint chatter and laughter downstairs. She rubbed her eyes, looking at the state of the room. Memories came rushing to her and she couldn't help but slightly smiled as she wrapped herself in her robe and made her way downstairs. Sadie was dressed and was sat at the table eating pancakes while Bucky was nursing a cup of coffee.

      - Daddy did your hair, huh? - she said to Sadie as she reached her, noticing her lobbed ponytail. She took the scrunchie off and started to plaid the hair.

      - Thank you! - she said through the food she was eating.

      - Sleep well? - Bucky asked as he hid a smirk behind his coffee cup.

      - I did, did you? Sore? - she asked as she grabbed a cup of coffee herself. - You look a bit blushed still, Sergeant.

      - Are you busy this afternoon?

      - Depends.

      - Reservations downtown at 7?

taglist: @talesofadragon @themermaidscales82 @winters1917 @vladsgirlxx @stinkerbelle007 @maybefoxysouls @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @chipilerendi @kandis-mom @belennasif @abitofblues @feddefy

[writing-for-life]

Keeping Them In Character...

It’s so interesting what you wrote about fixing Morpheus in the other post, @rriavian. I didn't want to take that one too off topic, hence I made a new one. I hope this is okay, because I love talking about these things, especially with other writers (everyone who reads this, writer or not, feel free to join in). I think I’ve said this somewhere else before (can’t remember where): If we keep him in character, there is no fixing him anyway.

But fanfic wouldn’t be fanfic without those attempts, and I totally get why. I want a different ending for him, too, alas, not in canon, even if that might sound contradictory. If they touched the ending in the show, I’d honestly be pissed off, but that’s my personal problem, and Neil can do with it whatever he wants—it’s his story. So I guess every fic that sees him alive at the end starts with the premise that we have to bend him into shape ever so slightly to make it possible. To me though, there’s a world of a difference between that and basically turning him into an OC with no resemblance to Morpheus bar name and looks (not saying that isn’t fair, it’s just not for me because if I wanted that, I’d write an OC, because that’s what he would be to me).

Morpheus is not weak. I even get why some people who mainly came to the Sandman via the show might be drawn into that direction initially, because we obviously see him very low at the beginning (I’m hesitant to say “at his lowest”). But after that, he pretty much stands in his power again (with ups and down obvs)—a power that burdens him for a multitude of reasons I don’t want to go into now, otherwise I’ll still sit here tomorrow. Wrote about it a million times though.

I think the fundamental misunderstanding is that anyone can fix him. So whoever we pair up with him can only walk with him, but he’ll need to take the steps himself, and more importantly: He would need a reason to want to do that. And yes, that’s exactly what my OC tells him at some point because she suffers, and she’s done with it despite understanding him on a deep level and accepting who and what he is—I think you're right when you say there’s a tendency in fandom to turn one half of the relationship into some kind of martyr and/or “void filler” to save someone. And the tricky thing about Morpheus is: He actually is looking for something to fill a void (which, to stress that again, doesn't mean he isn't powerful, so it's not to be mistaken for general weakness). And both in The Sandman and in real life, that never leads to anything good, but I can see why it's tempting to fall into that trap because his character lends itself particularly well to that type of trope (and I even play around with that in the first part of my fic, but it was also clear to me that it won't end there).

Now, this obviously isn’t real life, a story doesn’t necessarily have to lead to something good, but the most important question, to me, was always: What would make him take said steps himself, and above all: WANT to take them? Because truly, that’s where it all falls down in canon. And there is enough scope to explore that in quite a few different ways in my view.

For me, it was always clear that it can never be through wanting to change who or what he is on a fundamental level (that’s why I’m not into retired!Dream AUs, because they would fundamentally change who he is. Again, totally fine if people want to explore that, it's just not for me). I honestly believe he would bristle at that and recoil/retreat. Because it would just add to what is at the core of his very dilemma: If you want to change who and what he is, you basically admit you don’t truly understand him (not even those closest to him truly do), and that’s part of what breaks him (I say “part”, because there are more things in the mix than one can shake a stick at). And there is a clear difference between his being capable of change (we all know he is) and wanting to change him. They are not one and the same, but sometimes, fandom treats them as if they were.

Misunderstanding him, misinterpreting him is inherent to his being: He is Dream—forever out of reach, forever nebulous and unreal and weird and prone to be misunderstood/misinterpreted unless you stop trying and just trust the process/intuition--otherwise, it wouldn’t be (a) D/dream. It truly applies to all that he is. And you see what happens when he tries to rationalise things himself: Although he understands the boundaries between dreams and reality and keeps them in place, he is UNreality, and forever will be. And the way that gets ignored in fandom sometimes baffles me. Although it also doesn’t, because of course we’re human, and we want things to be real.

Back to those steps: I personally think he would never take them for himself because he doesn’t believe he has a story, and outright centring himself as the main character who is in charge of his own story is something he will always deny himself. But I think that’s also the way in? Because if he could perceive, at least initially, that he is part of someone else’s story and that they WANT him in that story (all that he is and isn’t, including all that is broken) with full acceptance but without complete self-denial. That they don’t try to change him, because they understand what the unreal is (and that requires a very particular type of person). That he would want to try because the love he has for them weighs heavier than how little he loves himself (was it you, @stellerssong who recently also wrote something along those lines, or am I making that up?). And that by doing that, he gradually learns to see himself through someone else's eyes. And once on that path, he would maybe, just maybe, start to understand that indeed he has a story of his own, and that he might be able if not to entirely rewrite, but at least to keep on writing it from this moment onward. Like everyone who believes (because believing something is possible means trusting in it despite it not being real, and trusting in the process rather than the result. He knows the power this wields over everyone but himself--not because it’s not true for him but because he won’t allow it. But maybe he could get himself to a stage where he allows it). That it's not about fixing anything really, but growing enough around what's broken and always will be, instead of trying to make it smaller or go away.

Yes, I do believe that might be possible, although there's much more to it than I've written here because it's incredibly complex, and it requires a lot of give and take, compromise and yes, pain along the way. And maybe it might not work at all (I never really 100% know where I end up when I write because my characters always, always make those decisions for me, and despite setting out with a plan, I almost never end up where I had initially intended to go. So if you asked me today, I couldn’t promise that I truly know where my current WiP is going and who will be where at its end, and it is very frustrating at times because I’m not always happy with what these guys are doing. At the moment, I'm truly not). But I believe he would at least try if someone who allowed for those dynamics were around. And that’s why I wrote an OC, because while I can see one or two canon characters that get fairly close to what I'd envision (and none of them are one half of the bigger ships), I ultimately couldn’t do it with them because there was something in their established dynamics that threw it off for me. Unless I would have pulled at least one of them (probably both) OOC to a degree that felt too much for me. But I'm always super interested in other people's process and line of thinking.

But yeah, that’s the precarious dance between trying to keep him in character while also working towards a different ending (that's obviously far less of a problem in one-shots). If that will ever work—who knows…

[danggirlronpa]

Since polyships are on the table... 🍑 Mahiru/Hiyoko/Ibuki or 🍑 Mahiru/Sato/Hiyoko (I have a feeling this one will go horribly, as I tend to headcanon Hiyoko as being very jealous of Mahiru's affection towards Sato; both Sato and Hiyoko are definitely in love with Mahiru meanwhile can't stand each other. I imagine Sato also dislikes Hiyoko because she reminds her of Natsumi - however fair or unfair that comparison is, I definitely feel like Sato has a hatred of bullies. Meanwhile I think Hiyoko would have a soft spot for Ibuki; she would at first try very hard to push her away and prod at insecurities, but once that failed I could see them getting close. Plus, Hiyoko is attracted to kindness - something that she sees in both Hajime (platonically) and Mahiru, which makes her have a soft spot for them - and underneath her jokey-ness, Ibuki is very kind. And I don't even have to explain why Mahiru/Hiyoko works in this equation, lmao - Ibuki/Mahiru is probably the relationship between the three I've put the least thought in, but, I feel like they'd be amicable.)

Also, my Natsumi rarepairs.... 🍑 Chiaki/Natsumi and 🍑 Mikan/Natsumi... I know they don't interact but Chiaki and Natsumi are very much foils for each other & how they affect Hajime, so I think its a damn shame they never interact... plus Mikan/Natsumi would be so tragic.... finding your girlfriend dead... realizing your friend, Sato, killed her..... selling Sato out to your dead girlfriends brother.... Mahiru having such a favorable view of Sato and negative view of Natsumi & Mikan having the reverse.... the biased narration of Mikan (and Mahiru too).... the thought of my girlfriend was nice to me, a real angel, so she COULDN'T have been bullying you.... and then a year later, meeting a demon in the form of Junko Enoshima, who reminds you so much of your dead girlfriend, who tells you that Hope's Peak is corrupt, didn't look into her death to avoid a scandal with the reserve course so the funding to their pet project doesn't get shut down... and you're angry, you're so angry, that was your girlfriend and they don't even care.... why not let the devil tempt you into revenge? Don't they deserve it? I am so crazy about Natsumi/Mikan and NO ONE is tapping into their potential, the only fics on it on ao3 are my own.... I adore them 😭

I've been holding onto this ask because part of me doesn't even want to touch on a response so it can just stand alone as a testament to the ships. I LOVE seeing people talk about their rarepairs, absolutely fuck yes. Please don't think I'm ignoring you when I'm brief or my thoughts differ from yours because this RULES.

Mahiru/Hiyoko/Ibuki: Neat! Every dynamic in here is fucking stellar. I definitely also think this is a ship that centers on Hiyoko, which in and of itself is sort of fun. Danganronpa fans HATE her. But women LOVE her 😏

Mahiru/Hiyoko/Sato: Basically Canon. I'm biased about this because Mahiru/Sato is my real True SDR2 OTP and I consider both it and Mahiyoko to be Basically Canon on their own. But ALL TOGETHER. BOTH IN LOVE WITH MAHIRU. You know that tumblr post that's like "superhero and supervillain but theyre both friends with the same civilian so when their buddy invites them all out together as civilians they just have to silently seethe at each other across the table"? Yeah

Chiaki/Natsumi: Fine. This. And I'm going to be exposing a lot of things about myself as a person here so everyone just be cool. This is a kismesistude. And I will leave it at that.

Mikan/Natsumi: HELL YEAH. This might only appeal to a niche audience but hear me out, okay. You know yakuza mangas that are like. Oh No I Am A Sad Abused Young Woman/Twink Who Has Been Sold To/Become The Caretaker Of A Child In/Married Into/Reincarnated Into/Otherwise Somehow Become Involved In The Yakuza! im so frightened! what does this mean yakuza want with me!! a heart of gold?! could it be??? oh but because of my abuse i feel like i dont deserve this but through this yakuzas unrelenting instant love for me and very violent vengeance upon my abusers and also some gang drama to force us into compromising situations will i be forced to learn self esteem through the power of love?? THATS WHAT I WANT FROM THEM. THATS THE AU IVE WRITTEN IN MY HEAD. AND ALSO WAY OF THE HOUSE HUSBAND AU

[taras-toe-beans]

BG3 Fic Feb Day 9- Meeting Abdirak

Hello again! I'm skipping some days/may go back and post some later, but I was excited to do this one, as I already had part of a scene written. Having a paladin of Ilmater definitely makes for an interesting dynamic between the two.

“What's a priest of Loviatar doing all the way out here?” Izzrhys asked, arms crossed, red rope clearly displayed on his wrists.

There was no way the priest didn't recognize his symbols. And yet, he seemed receptive to talking to Izzrhys. He spoke of the goblins’ awful torturing methods, which almost surprised Izzrhys at first. He was under the impression that any torture was loved by Loviatar.

“Pain without purpose is a terrible thing, don’t you think?”

“I agree. What these goblins are doing is rather…crude. Pain should have meaning- or at least stand to be given meaning. Their brutality can't even get prisoners to speak. It's less than pointless. I abhore torture as a general rule, but if it doesn't even work…?”

“Would you like to be unburdened in the way of our mistress then? I see you bear the marks of the Broken God. I typically wouldn't ask someone like you, but I find it too enticing to not.”

“On the one hand, I shouldn't. Our lords hate each other. I can't help thinking though, we're not so different. Not at all. We have a lot to learn from each other. What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, I have something exquisite in mind. Both Loviatar and I are interested in how you handle pain, dear one. If you please her, she'll offer a most gracious blessing.”

A shudder passed down Izzrhys’ spine. The offer was tempting. Abdirak's voice was so soothing, luring- almost like the song of a siren. And the feeling of pain from things like self-flagellation was pretty familiar, so the thought didn't scare him at all. Accepting a blessing from Ilmater's opposite- his nemesis- however? That made him uneasy. But the blessing itself was tempting. The gods knew they needed all the help they could get.

“Izzrhys, I'm not sure you should-” Gale started.

“I'll be fine. This would hardly be the first time I've experienced something like this.”

“Face the wall, dear one, and we can begin.” Abdirak gestured ahead.

Then he picked up a mace. A mace? For cleansing? Izzrhys tensed at the thought. It would be much more painful than the whipping he was more accustomed to. He sucked in a breath and made his choice nonetheless.

Izzrhys complied, bracing himself for the first strike. It was much harder than he expected. The mace struck across his back, scoring a wound between his shoulder blades. He tried to hold back any cries of pain, but a pained wail was torn from his throat. 

“Yes, dear one! Don't hold back. Let her hear you!”

A lower grunt escaped him as he adjusted his stance. He gritted his teeth. Yet, a pleasant buzz settled over his brain. Heat flooded his body. Blood welled up on his back.

“Keep on. I'm alright,” Izzrhys insisted.

Abdirak took another swing. Again, Izzrhys tried to hold back. He tried. But the strike pried a drawn out cry from his mouth. It faded to a soft whine. 

“Yes, dear one!”

Izzrhys squeezed his eyes shut. He was relishing in the pain, followed by the soothing that the priest's voice brought. He looked over his shoulder, panting, bloodied.

“Again, if you must,” he whispered, “I can take it.”

“We're almost done.”

The last hit fucking hurt. His skin was torn badly, his body bleeding. Izzrhys was shaking. Less inclined to fight it, especially following Abdirak's lavish praise of his voice, Izzrhys let out a broken cry. His trembling body nearly failed him, but he was still standing. Izzrhys glanced back once more, eyes Iocked on Abdirak intently.

“Loviatar found you… inspiring. She's willing to grant you a blessing.”

“Much appreciated,” Izzrhys said, “This was an interesting experience. I think a little perspective could benefit us all.”

“I'm glad you thought so, dear one. Now here. Take this blessing.”

Abdirak lifted his arms and a dark aura flooded from his body and settled over Izzrhys. The drow gladly accepted. He was in awe of the priest, truthfully.

“Why bother staying here, with them? They're clearly misunderstanding your teachings.”

“Perhaps I will consider going elsewhere. They do not please the Maiden of Pain as it is, and they do not seem to be learning.”

Izzrhys felt his mouth go dry. He knew for a fact that this goblin camp would be under assault soon enough if things went as planned. Part of him wanted to warn the priest to leave, but the other part told him that he was expected to show a lot more hostility towards Loviatans. And just in case, he didn't want to spell it out too clearly.

[c-c-cherry]

HELLO you may recognise me as the artist that drew that one whole scene from chapter 7!! thought i'd drop in to say:

FIRST OF ALL midterms are the pain ever, i wish you all the best!! stay hydrated <3

SECOND OF ALL thank you for taking the time to leave such a long and heartfelt reply on my post asjcjkdj it made me really really happy and giddy for the rest of the day i'm so glad i managed to portray the characters and envision the scenes the way you intended us to! your writing is absolutely gorgeous and i hope you're doubting its quality less, because it is top tier.

speaking of your writing i was tempted to talk about why i really loved the fic in the post itself but felt like it was really long already 😭

so here i am, this may be long, i apologise in advance for my rambling, in this essay-

REIGEN'S SPIRALLING DOWN THE NEGATIVE SELF TALK WAS SO HEART BREAKING BUT SO RAW, IN A WAY, LIKE IT HURTS THAT HE REALLY THINKS NO ONE NEEDS HIM AROUND AND EVERYONE WOULD BE FINE/BETTER OFF W/O HIM. BUT SO SO MANY PEOPLE HAVE BEEN POSITIVELY IMPACTED BY HIM AND SO MANY PEOPLE LOVE HIM AND WANT HIM AND NEED HIM

I LOVE HOW REIGEN WAS FORCED TO FACE THAT TRUTH THROUGH DIMPLE'S MEMORIES, I LOVE HOW DIMPLE CARES AND IS CONCERNED FOR REIGEN WHILE BEING BRUTAL AND A LITTLE SHIT

i love how everyone turns to teru because he's reliable and he's smart but he's just a 14 year old who's had to be his own adult for way too long and he's just trying to figure things out, too. I LOVE HATE THE WAY HE TRIES TO FILL REIGEN'S SHOES, I LOVE THEIR FATHER-SON DYNAMIC

getting me started on ritsu would be a mistake as i may write a 13k word essay if left unattended BUT in short, I LOVE THE WAY YOU DEPICTED HIS TRAUMA, HIS EXTREMELY HUMAN, EMOTIONAL REACTION TO MOB POTENTIALLY LOSING CONTROL, THE WAY HE ISN'T OVER IT, BECAUSE REALLY THATS SO UNDERSTANDABLE, THE WAY HE'S JUST A SMALL, SCARED 13 YEAR OLD JUST OUGHHH

MOB AND HIS CONCERN FOR REIGEN, HIM STEPPING UP EVEN THOUGH HE KNEW HIS SHISHOU COULD BE DEAD INSIDE THE OFFICE, HIS BRAVERY AND HIS COMPASSION. AND THE ONE MEMORY? WHERE HES ASKING REIGEN NOT TO LEAVE SO SOON, NOT WITHOUT SAYING SOMETHING I CRIED. I CRIED OK I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

SERIZAWA DESPITE BEING ARGUABLY THE MOST ANXIOUS ABOUT THE WHOLE SITUATION, STEPPING UP!! TAKING CHARGE AND BEING MATURE AND DOING HIS BEST, FOR THE KIDS AND FOR HIMSELF AND ESPECIALLY FOR REIGEN

and shou oh my god i love that he tags along, that he's included but feels like an outcast in their group, the way he's there because he cares but he thinks he doesn't really have the right since he's not as close to reigen. HES SO ALONE BUT HE DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO INTEGRATE INTO THEIR CIRCLE, SO HE KIND OF HANGS AROUND THE EDGE AND GOOD LORD I WISH THEY'D JUST PULL HIM IN

in conclusion i want to hug them all. i haven't felt this many emotions in so long cherry you did amazing and trust me you're going to keep doing amazing, because you are you

if you read all the way here thank you for bearing w me 😭😭 i hope you're doing well, you said you recovered from a mystery sickness recently? take care ok, we support you!! <3

-bloo

Hello Bloo!! I’m so sorry it took me this long to finally reply. Life is life, and now I’m here! But just know that I’ve been rereading this ask consistently because it makes me so happy that my work can…make people think THOUGHTS? In-depth thoughts that they want to share with me?? It still barely feels real to me that people are liking my silly self-indulgent fic where I make the business man suffer. So thank you! I’m so happy you’re enjoying it, and thank you again for that deliciously-crafted fan comic! :)

I'm sparing your poor souls from a Cherry ramble under the cut. But for those who wanna peek inside my silly head:

As for what you’re saying about the fic itself…yeah HAHA. You’ve got it down. As someone who’s completely desensitized to their own ideas and the execution of said ideas, I don’t know how obvious all my little underlying themes and ulterior plot lines have been, but your interpretation of it all is pretty spot on. I’m a sucker for forcing characters to face their own truth via IMPOSSIBLE circumstances and then dragging every other character into a whirlpool of chaos and conflict and confrontation in turn. It makes it all the more fun >:)

I’ve been trying to write the characters carefully so their dynamics blend or clash or do anything else that I please, and that means letting them roam free and interact with each other while keeping their special character quirks. I love writing Mob constantly on the verge of guilty instability, Seri having to step his ass up despite his confidence not yet being 100%, Shou and his mysterious ways that are SO worth exploring because he's such a complex character despite not appearing a lot in canon, Ritsu’s impulsive, fear-driven, 13-year-old antics (and that dreaded stop sign), and of course, Reigen and all his pathetic self-loathing. In fact, ALL of them have been incredibly fun to write because ONE has amazing, fleshed-out characters that interact so well together. BUT I’ve been surprised with how much I’ve loved writing Dimple and Teru especially. Dimple’s not hard to write at all for me, but his interactions with the other characters in writing are ADDICTING, and I didn't expect that. I will say this forever, but I want Dimple in more fics because of the POTENTIAL. LET THE FART CLOUD HAVE THE SPOTLIGHT!! As for Teru—you can ask anyone who was around for the first few draft chapters of AH—I was very hesitant to write him at all. I personally think his character is very hard to nail, and I’m honestly surprised at how much the audience has taken to his role and his little moments within the fic—that encouragement and influence definitely made him appear more than I originally anticipated :)

I could ramble for hours about every character and all their inner complexities that I'd love to explore in this work and others. But I will stop myself here hahaha.

Thank you for this sweet little breakdown of what you’re enjoying in AH so far. It makes me feel very happy :) And thank you all for all the support! It really means a lot.

As for my mysterious sickness from a few weeks ago, it has vanished! Student life is crawling with unknown bacteria. It's like you're in daycare all over again, or perhaps a medieval plague ward. Now all I have to do is battle the turbulent trials of finals :’)

[silkendandelion]

Pomegranates, A Stardew Valley fanfiction

Pairing: Lance (SVE) x Farmer (male, character sheet here)

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Farmer Max didn't listen to the wizard's warning and encounters a spell that shows him a version of his life where he married Elliot, instead of Lance. Hurt/Comfort, happy ending.

AN: Spoilers for Lance's 10-heart event and several late game quest lines, references to the outcome of these quests or rewards. Player is an OC with established characteristics, story, mannerisms. It's fine, we have fun anyway.

Rated Teen and Up Audiences for sexually suggestive content, unsafe situations, characters worried about infidelity (No actual cheating). One-shot. Cross-posted to Ao3 here. Send me a DM: yell at me, send flowers. Cheers.

He always saved the best pomegranates for Elliot.

The shiniest fruits of the batch, so heavy with juice they nearly jumped off the branch and redder than wine-stained, kiss-swollen lips. They always got washed separately, scrubbed twice, and packed in a box that had become known as “Elliot’s box” because of the blocky, handwritten label that declared it.

“That time of the year again?” Lance smiled as he set his satchel on the kitchen floor, mindful of the farmhouse’s stone counter-tops ever since they discovered that life elixir is surprisingly acidic. Luckily, the microwave now hides his shame.

“Just in time for his birthday too, since the summer was so cool,” Max said, clicking the crate shut.

“Well, I’m off to the Highlands.” Lance glanced in the fridge while the farmer tugged on his boots. The sticky rice he made the night before was untouched, a cursive note that read ‘goodnight, my love’ still attached to the top.

Poor farmer, he works so hard, he thought. “Actually. There’s not much to do the first week of the season, besides observations. If I only do a half day, I could make it back by say… 8 o’clock? What do you think, love, want to quit early with me?”

His mushy thoughts of hiking up to the bath house and splitting a pot of cider on the couch were dispersed by Max reaching for his coat with a wince. “I’m sorry, honey, probably not. Leah wants to do a brunch thing tomorrow for Elliot’s birthday and I gotta turn in early if I’m gonna finish the chores before I go.”

Lance opened his mouth to point out the flaw in his plan, but settled for a frown as he slung his satchel over his shoulder. “No worries, love, just a thought.”

They parted ways with a kiss, soft and sweet: the farmer’s preferred choice of apology when he knew Lance wasn’t actually looking for one.

“Stay safe up there. And say hi to Marlon for me if you see him,” Max said.

“Of course. Safe travels, farmer,” Lance teased him with a smirk.

He watched Lance leave their homestead and down the road, the smell of freshly-tilled soil washing away the scent of his husband’s soap before he even turned the corner. By the fifth day of the season, the crops were all settled into their neat little rows, the promise of pumpkins already in curly little saplings, and colorful mushrooms peeking up from plush, sleepy grass. The trestles by the fence would have grapes on them soon enough—best to keep an eye out for Petunia then, lest his horse be tempted out of her stall and he find her foundered in her sin.

Elliot loved the fall.

And Max almost slapped himself as he started the rest of his chores.

The wizard had warned him, “you can peruse my library at your leisure, but don’t touch any of the books behind that altar. It’s for your own safety,” and gestured to a menacing golden creature atop a spell circle, the statue’s ruby eyes seeming to follow him around the candlelit room.

It was one book.

A simple spell, just a single, short paragraph among the hundreds of others, found by parting the book to a random number and beginning in the middle of the page. The spell explained itself to have no ingredients, casted only by reading, though Max couldn’t have guessed how literal the instructions were.

“Spirits alive, spirits alike, spirit made flesh. The mind is a shallow cup, cursed to overflow with too many memories, but the soul remembers. Never forget, dear spirit. Recall your journeys, dear spirit… allow us to enter your mind, spirit. And look with us.”

Even Max knew not to speak aloud from spell books, but just reading the words left him breathless, his wheeze condensing in front of his face. He slammed the book shut, quick and careful to replace it on the shelf exactly as it had been found before fleeing back to the warp hall, his fumbling hands yanking at his coat’s zipper.

“Too creepy… Never again,” he said, believing now that Magnus wasn’t exaggerating when he placed the shelf off limits.

But the spell was already cast, brought to life by being read, and Max found himself visited by the most vivid dream he’s ever had—and hasn’t had one like it since.

A farm, what must have been his farmhouse, and an autumn day like today. A striped cat rushed to the kitchen under his feet while the writer hummed at the stove, his ginger hair pulled back to the nape of his neck.

“Good morning! Come eat, darling, I made your favorite.”

He never cared for pancakes but his stomach growled regardless, heart squeezing unbidden when the writer fluttered over to greet him with a milk coffee kiss.

Lance drank his coffee black.

It wasn’t his farm, not his cat, not his husband, so why did it feel so warm?

Why did he wake up missing the rosy lens of that other place? With syrup on his tongue and a pain in his chest for a man he’s never looked at before with anything other than friendship? His heart sank, belly cold as he rolled over to seek the warm back of his sleeping husband, minding the pomegranate hair draped over his pillow.

“Mm—hello,” Lance rumbled with fondness, awoken by the way the farmer squeezed around his middle.

“Go back to sleep, Lance,” he said against his hair. The smell of magic never did manage to wash out, like lightning in a forest. A happy huff was his only reply, though Max would stay awake for the rest of that night, and for days after.

He never should have read from that damn book.

The dream wasn’t anything more than a glimpse. He didn’t know the farmer’s story, who raised him, but he knew why his belly twinged when the writer kissed him. And if this flash of a feeling could haunt his thoughts in broad daylight, he knew he would die if he ever knew the truth about their entire life together, killed gloriously by the knowledge of one single lifetime, out of the thousands this other valley might know.

And he would never recover if Lance knew.

How could he ever say that in another life, some other place just like their valley, he was married to Elliot? And that they were so happy?

He couldn’t, he would rather jump naked into a bath tub of lava slimes than hurt Lance.

Lance, who when he was contemplating giving up farming to be a full-time adventurer declared with that self-assured grin that Max was the only one who could help him with his research.

Lance of the First Slash Clan, seasoned adventurer, who becomes as red as his hair, suddenly shy when Max reminds him that on his first visit to the First Slash Guild Hall, he took off his clothes and suggested they squeeze into the single bed.

The same man who when Max came to him with the insane idea to turn their cellar into a guild hall, didn’t poke holes in his dream or complain about how much the construction would cost, instead swelling with pride to say “My farmer, always thinking of others.”

Lance, whom without the world would have no spring.

Max looked at the crate in his hands, having walked all the way to the beach after his chores, and knocked on Elliot’s door with his boot. What am I doing?

“Max, hello there!” He opened the door with a gasp. “Are those for me?”

“What—yes. Fresh from Haddenfield,” he said reflexively, pulled from his thoughts to follow Elliot inside and put the crate on the piano bench for unpacking.

“Oh, they’re beautiful,” he said, holding one up to the window to admire it’s ruby glitter. “Won’t you let me pay you this time?”

“No no, of course not,” Max waved his hands. “I brought it to you without asking, it’s a gift. Happy birthday.”

“Well, thank you.” Elliot bowed his head, but was struck by a thought. “Wait. This is heavy, too big for Petunia. Did you walk all the way here? Let me make you a cup of tea before you go.”

Max remembered the smell of green tea from his dream, knowing what he would offer even before Elliot opened the metal canister. “I’ve got green tea, do you mind a travel cup?”

This life is enough. No memory, intangible and false, will come between him and his valley.

“I’ve actually gotta get going. Somewhere to be. Thank you, Elliot, and happy birthday!”

“Thank you, Max, please be careful. Say hi to Lance for me!” He called as Max was already marching his way up the beach with a wave. ____ ___ __ _

Good, Marlon didn’t take the boat, he thought as he found the dinghy by the mountain dock, tied and ready. The trek to the Highlands always managed to be twice as long when you were in a hurry, and Max prayed the clouds gathering overhead would hold off on their rain until he made it to the outpost.

A distant crackle of thunder caught Lance’s attention, and he paused his note-taking where he was crouched beside a sleeping mushroom sprite.

“That’s enough for today, I guess,” he said, accidentally startling the creature awake and having to cast a recall spell to avoid its tiny rage.

On the river, Max struggled with the frantic sail of Marlon’s little boat, holding his own against the wind despite the way the waves slapped against its fragile sides.

“I can hear the conversation now—Sorry Marlon, I took your boat out into the storm without your permission but it was all for love! No no, it’s in pieces but I’ll buy you a new one, I promise.” Max yelled to no one as the little boat bobbed and thrashed around the last bend before the dock.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Inside the outpost, Lance closed the line on his emergency phone when no one answered.

“He must be on his way home… oh, I hope he’s all right,” he said, going to pilfer his satchel for supper.

“Oh no,” he groaned, realizing his packed dinner was still in the fridge at home, probably next to the forsaken sticky pudding.

“Crumbs,” he said with a huff. Rain on the stone roof meant it was too late to try to fish, too far to try to go home.

A loud thud came from the direction of the dock, heard clearly even through the heavy wooden door, and the hair on his arms stood up.

Debris from the storm? No, it sounded like a person. Marlon? But why? It could also be a monster.

“The warding should keep them away…” Unless the storm fractured my spell circle.

The lumbering came again, closer now, until both Lance and the mysterious noise stood on opposite sides of the door.

His fingertips sparked with a welling of magic. “Aureus lux—“

The door flew open to crash against the opposite wall. “DAMN it all—”

“Max!” Magic leapt from his hand to scorch across the stone wall, but at least the attack hadn’t landed on his soaked husband, frozen in the doorway.

“Did you just try to zap me?!”

“Of course I did! How am I meant to know you’re the one stomping around like a Golem in the middle of a storm? What are you doing here?” He helped the farmer inside, setting him down at his workbench to begin taking off his boots. His fingers shook on the dripping laces, but not with magic.

“You’re soaked—what were you thinking?! What if the boat crashed, how would I ever even know what happened to you? Drowned, or, or—” Max hushed him with the hand that wasn’t holding his bag.

He pulled him close, uncaring he was likely dampening Lance’s shirt, he needed to feel him before he floated away. “You forgot your dinner.”

Lance blinked at him, watching the farmer open his bag to take out two portions of curry and a bottle of wine. Blue Moon, his favorite. “No hard feelings that it’s not from Haddenfield,” Max said, like every time he gifts it to him with the same cheeky grin.

“Have dinner with me? Maybe?” He tries again when Lance is quiet.

“That was an incredibly foolish thing you did,” Lance finally says, flat, but his eyes are soft when he pulls him into a long kiss. They can hardly tell which one of them deepens the kiss first, lips sliding and tasting of petrichor by the time they part to breathe.

“… So you’re not mad?” Max says, dazed and a little warmer where his jacket collar bows away from his skin.

“Of course I’m angry. But I’m also helplessly in love with you, farmer.” He shakes his head and reaches for the bottle.

“I’ll open the wine if you’d like to change your clothes.”

“You have extra clothes here?”

“No,” he says, flat again, and punctuated by both the pop of the cork and his affectionate smirk.

Well, at least the bed is dry, he thinks as he sits in his underwear. Lance never stayed mad for long, and by the time they finish supper he’s coaxing the farmer under the duvet and into his arms. For body heat, he insists, not because the outpost bed, while bigger than the one at the guild hall, is still a squeeze for two grown men.

“It reminds me of that first night at the First Slash,” Max said, accepting the wine bottle when Lance passed it to him.

“Oh Yoba, hasn’t my heart been through enough tonight?” Lance rubbed his tired eyes, albeit smiling behind his hand.

“Don’t be embarrassed, you were very charming,” Max grinned and passed the last sip back to him.

“How long had we been dating? Not long at all, and I threw myself at you.”

Max grabbed his hand to invite his gaze. “I caught you, didn’t I?”

Lance waited a beat, eyes softening as he squeezed their hands. “Yes, you did. Handsome farmer, I couldn’t help but need to know how you felt.”

“I promise, the fact that you were pressed up against me with your abs out had no influence on my answer.” Lance’s chuckle made his stomach flip, a familiar feeling he wanted to happen over and over for him alone.

He drifted easily into a useless dream about keeping Petunia away from the grapes, deeper than he’s slept in weeks, and wondered if pomegranates would be important in his next life too.

[livsoulsecrets]

You’re so sappy

Written for the @kinnporscheweek Day 4 prompt: “You’re so sappy.” + fluff

Also posted on AO3.

Summary: Vegas thinks Tankhun loves Pete a little too much. He’s not wrong, but he also is.

-/-

Two weeks before Pete’s birthday, Vegas is coerced into attending the celebration Tankhun organizes in one of the Main Family’s clubs. His boyfriend argued it was only fair, considering Vegas was taking him away on a trip for his actual birthday. Vegas was powerless to deny Pete anything he wanted, as usual, so to the goddamn party they went.

As if that prospect wasn’t dim enough, at some point in the night, he had lost Pete to the dance floor in the company of Porsche, Kinn, Arm and Pol.

Glad as he was that Pete was having fun, that did leave him and Tankhun sitting together in loaded silence when his cousin unceremoniously dropped himself in their VIP booth to “recharge”.

When Tankhun orders his third drink, Vegas gives in to the doubt that has been nagging his mind for quite a while now. He blames it on having too much alcohol in his system to make reasonable choices. A little bit on the opportunity that presented itself to him. It was too tempting: a intoxicated Tankhun – unbearably loud as he was – was also far more honest.

“You really like Pete.” Vegas says into his glass, downing the whiskey there right after. Tankhun lifts one eyebrow in his direction, a silent challenge dancing in his dark eyes as he stares back at Vegas.

“Yes?” His cousin replies, nonchalant. His shinny jacket glitters under the artificial lighting as he leans back in his seat. “What do you mean by that?”

“You know exactly what I mean.” He barks his response, tired of Tankhun feigning confusion.

“Alright, if that’s how you want to go about it.” His cousin chuckles, shrugging before taking another sip of his drink.

“I’m sure it’s tough for you, but don’t play dumb with me right now, Tankhun.” Vegas murmurs, growing extremely impatient with the mask of indifference the man across from him is putting on.

“You take yourself too seriously, cousin.” Tankhun retorts, placing his glass down and shaking his head disapprovingly.

“And you don’t take me seriously enough.” He replies, annoyance dripping in his tone.

“Fine, go ahead.” The other man huffs, lifting his chin, appearing to be unbothered. “What is it going to be today? Will you tell me all the ways you can make me bleed to death in case I try to take Pete back? Or threaten to dismember my lovely body and throw it to my fish if he doesn’t return in one piece from our sleepovers?”

“That is not what I want to talk to you about.” Vegas dismisses, earning a puzzled look from Tankhun. “I simply wish to understand.”

“Understand what?” Tankhun seems genuinely confused by the conversation, which does not help lighten Vegas’s mood.

Does Tankhun truly not realize how obvious his feelings are? That Pete’s meaning to him is written all over his eyes? Or does he believe Vegas is stupid enough not to notice it? Or not to care?

Vegas sighs and explains himself, because the sooner he gets this over with, the sooner he can go back to ignoring Tankhun’s presence, “What do you expect to get from Pete with all of this?” He gestures broadly to encompass the massive private area Tankhun reserved for the night, the pile of birthday gifts his cousin had bought for Pete and the over-the-top decoration of the place.

Tankhun narrows his eyes and stares at Vegas as if he has suddenly grown a third head. “I’m used to not understanding shit about how your twisted mind works, but this is too much even for me.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he curses, rolling his eyes, “I know you are in love with Pete. Why else would you throw this fancy party weeks before his actual birthday just so you can do it first? And don’t even get me started on your many attempts to get him back, the constant calls and movie nights and bar outings.”

Takhun is motionless for a long minute, his eyes glued to Vegas’ as he remains quiet. Vegas wonders if he has finally managed to force him into honesty.

And then, Tankhun bursts into laughter. His head is violently thrown back as the loud cackles rip from his throat. His hand slams his tight to punctuate how hilarious the whole situation is to him. Vegas remains perfectly still and tries to remind himself that it wouldn’t be very diplomatic to shoot the eldest son of the Main Family just to get him to shut up.

Tankhun continues to laugh for another solid minute until there are tears in his eyes and he is forced to take a pause to still his breathing, drying the corner of his eyes with the sleeves of his jacket. He is still chuckling when he talks again, “You think... No, no, you are sure I’m in love with- With Pete?” Vegas stays silent, not only because he is deeply disturbed by the outburst of emotion he just witnessed, but also because he refuses to give Tankhun the satisfaction of an answer. “That is a good one. Honestly, when I left home tonight, I wasn’t expecting you to be the one making me laugh the hardest.”

“It is not a fucking joke.” He groans, knocking his glass on the table.

“Not to you, maybe,” Tankhun notes, “but it is hilarious, nonetheless.”

“You are-” He starts, but his cousin is interrupting him before Vegas can insult him properly.

“Alright, alright, I’m in a benevolent mood tonight, so I will indulge you.” Vegas purses his lips and fights off the urge to give Tankhun the finger, “I am sure this is a difficult concept for you to understand, but there is this lovely thing called friendship that implies you do not have to be in love with someone to care about them.”

“Really? You want me to believe you go through this type of trouble for any friend of yours?” He sneers, clenching his jaw.

“Not for any friend.” Tankhun complies, shrugging, “But for Pete? Of course, I do.”

Vegas frowns his brow, more confused than anything else, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Is it really so hard to understand you can wish to make someone happy even if you don’t want to fuck them?” Tankhun huffs, clicking his tongue in annoyance when Vegas just stares at him in disbelief. “Nevermind, I forgot who I was talking to for a moment.”

With another dramatic swirl of his head, Tankhun lifts himself from his seat and walks to Vegas, settling by his side. His step is stumbling a bit, but Tankhun seems to make up for his dizzy state with pure determination. “What are you doing-” Vegas begins to ask.

“Did you know Pete worked as my head bodyguard for years before he resigned?” Tankhun queries instead, filling his glass again, his voice quiet and filled with a conspiratorial tone.

“I know that, obviously.” Vegas answers, not understanding where Tankhun is going with this.

“Well, then you should also know that it meant we spent plenty of time together, especially because I rarely left my house back then.” His voice is more serious, the way it rarely ever sounds, and he pours Vegas more whiskey too, as if he senses the situation demands it. “I only went out if it was absolutely necessary.”

Vegas doesn’t understand why that is relevant to the conversation until Tankhun speaks again, “Pete had been working with us for about three months when a faction of the Russian mafia tried to kidnap me on my way back home from the hospital.”

“I remember that.” Vegas comments briefly, blinking as he takes his glass from Tankhun’s hand. The whole thing had been a mess, both the Main and Second families’ homes being forced into lockdown as Korn himself took to punishing the persecutors.

“I had just been released after… Some rough couple of weeks.” His cousin adds, shifting a little on his seat. “Pete didn’t leave my side the whole time. He protected me and made sure I made it back home unharmed, but he did more too.”

Tankhun then mumbles under his breath and Vegas needs to lean forward to catch his next words, “When we went back home, I couldn’t sleep, so he spent the whole night up with me. He stayed by my side as I stared at the ceiling until morning.”

It didn’t surprise Vegas that Pete had done that sort of thing. His boyfriend had spent his share of nights awake as Vegas shook and gulped for air after particularly bad dreams with memories of his father.

Vegas wasn’t expecting to find such common ground with Tankhun when the night began and that was an uncomfortable knowledge to bear right now. He almost wishes he had kept his mouth shut instead of giving into the urge of figuring out what Tankhun’s deal was.

“He saved me from the Russians because that was his job. He kept me company after that because he chose to. Because that’s the type of person Pete is, even when surrounded by so much violence and pain, even when he causes it himself.” Tankhun’s voice softens with affection and Vegas doesn’t know what to make of it.

He is still flabbergasted with the knowledge Tankhun was even sharing such memories with him when his cousin speaks again, “Pete did that many more times, more than I can count, besides the whole ‘risking his life to keep me safe’ thing that was in his contract. That’s why he means so much to me, and always will.”

Tankhun’s hand travels to the gold necklace against his chest to fidget with it for a beat before he eyes Vegas again, “That’s also why I will never leave him behind and I don’t particularly care about your stance on the matter.”

Vegas has to admit that, if there is one thing Tankhun has never lacked, it is audacity.

His cousin goes on with a soft smile curving his lips to add “He’s my friend. I don’t have many of those, so Pete is very precious to me. I’m not in love with him, Vegas, but I do love him.”

It’s quite unsettling, how easily Tankhun lays down his feelings, how he keeps all of them so out in the open – within reach.

When he talks again, though, his expression has sobered up, body bending towards Vegas to pierce him with a sly gaze, “And if you ever hurt him again, there won’t be enough bodyguards in this country to stop me from fucking obliterating you. Are we clear?”

"It’s cute that you think you could do it.” Vegas retorts, baring his teeth in a smirk. Tankhun doesn’t tear his eyes away from Vegas though, so he concedes, “Crystal clear, cousin.”

“Good.” Tankhun leans away from him, stating, “So stop with the whole side-eyeing me thing every time I breathe near Pete. I’m not taking him away, not unless he asks me too.” Vegas lifts his eyebrows at that and Tankhun remarks, sounding bored out of his mind, “I don’t think he will, though.”

The admission is more than Vegas ever thought he would get out of Tankhun, so he nods sharply to indicate that settles the matter for him and gulps his drink to shake off the awkwardness of the whole exchange.

Almost as if Pete senses Vegas is completely out of his depth, he surges at the VIP lounge’s entry to wave in the direction of the table Tankhun and Vegas are sharing. He walks towards them with a smile plastered on his face, dropping by Vegas’ side.

“Should I be worried the two of you were left alone without supervision?” He asks when it becomes clear neither his boyfriend or Tankhun would break the silence.

“I know how to behave myself.” Tankhun protests, hand over his chest as Pete eyes him with distrust. “Mostly.” He admits, pouting.

“It is all good.” Vegas intervenes at the worry showing in Pete’s face. His boyfriend relaxes against his body as he receives a kiss on the cheek, leaning back into the arm Vegas threw around his shoulders.

Tankhun rolls his eyes, but says nothing at the display of affection. Vegas grins at him, his lips tugging up in a playful smile.

He no longer believes Tankhun is in love with Pete, can easily tell he had been honest earlier, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t fun to taunt him around.

“Alright, I will go back to dancing before I witness something too traumatizing.” He jumps to his feet with some difficulty and disappears into a corner as Pete looks up at Vegas with wide eyes.

“What?” Vegas asks, fiddling with Pete’s hair when he notices his boyfriend’s curious gaze.

“Am I too drunk or were you and Tankhun having a civil conversation when I got here?” Pete questions, not being able to hide his confusion. Vegas bites back a chuckle at the sight – he couldn’t be seen folding so easily under Pete’s stare in a public place, VIP lodge or not.

“You’re definitely too drunk.” He answers and Pete stares at him with disdain for his blatant deflection, “And I’m not drunk enough for this conversation.”

Pete remains quiet as Vegas refills his glass. “I wouldn’t mind if you did, you know?” Pete’s voice is slithering, the alcohol loosing up any inhibitions he could have that Vegas hadn’t already undone. “I like that we can do this now. You and me, together, going out with my friends. It feels nice. It makes me happy.”

Vegas brushes his lips against Pete’s forehead, away too pleased with the clear praise in Pete’s words, and murmurs, “You’re so sappy.”

Pete laughs lazily and buries his face in Vegas’ neck, “You’re one to talk.”

Vegas doesn’t argue, just stays locked in their embrace.

It was no easy adjustment to have the most important person in his life be so fiercely loved by Tankhun of all people, but it shouldn’t come as a surprise that Pete was the one responsible for that unexpected turn of events.

He was ridiculously easy to love, after all.

[corvarrow]

Alright, I couldn't decide how to best present my thoughts about this art challenge, so here's just a summary screenshot to start with - if you would like to see the big versions with the lore you can check out my tag, and the actual list itself is here!

And without further ado, here are my thoughts on this art challenge and finishing it!

Things that helped me finish the challenge

Taking a break day (or two) a week – I have a day job so this was absolutely required to not burn out, lol

Having a theme – This was nor originally intentional, but keeping it worldbuilding related really helped me come up with ideas as there were several prompts where I was just coming up with nothing otherwise.

Small canvas size – These are all fairly small - it was a 6x6 pad. Originally thought it was going to be too small, but ended up being perfect. Since I opted to do full blown scenes I don’t think I would have finished otherwise

Limited Palette/Materials – I learned this from completing previous challenges, but the fewer decisions I have to make the easier it is to do these. This one happened to actually be ink (see materials section) but I have done challenge before with like, "single set of markers"

Displaying the Art – I didn’t like having a loose stack of completed pictures, so I bought a 6x6 photo album to store them in. This was a great decision as they look very cool in there I was very motivated to complete the set

Completion Stickers - Yes, I am 2 years old. I had a paper list where I was putting stickers next to each word as I completed it, and it was very satisfying >_>a

Stuff I liked

Able to practice a medium - Yeah by the end I was feeling way more confident with ink and different techniques (wet on wet, wet on dry, etc)

Got to practice scenes and lighting – I even fit in a ton of OC cameos

Posted all pieces regardless of quality - Although this was not my first list-based challenge it is the first one I posted ALL pieces for

Got some fun pieces to revisit later - There are quite a few I REALLY like for different reasons so it would be fun to do them again later, but spend more time

Kept a consistent quality for the whole challenge - It was tempting to "get lazy" at the end but I think I managed to keep the same general quality the entire time

Used up a bunch of pages in a sketchbook I’m not overly fond of by doing tons of thumbnails - To be quite honest, if I have a sketchbook I hate enough (because the paper is bad or whatever) I will often uh, dismantle them. 8Da; I am not overly fond of the one I'm currently using, but now there's only about 14 pages left so, I will persevere.

Stuff I didn’t like

Time commitment required - Even with the breaks, I was spending almost all evening for 5 weeks working on these, which was a little Much for me. I will have to rethink my approach to any future challenges.

Using WIP designs/Not being able to spend a lot of time on anything – There’s a couple pieces where I wanted to go a certain direction and had to go with Vibes rather than accuracy for the sake of getting it done….which is fine, some of them turned out nice regardless. However would have still liked to hammer things out a little more.

Materials Used

Artsnacks Inktober Box, with some modifications - Something you should know about Artsnacks, is that often the colored materials will be the brand shown, but the color you actually receive will be random. Luckily, I got an Orange ink. Unfortunately, I also have terrible luck with PH Martin’s Orange in that it always separates no matter how much I mix it, so partway through the challenge I replaced it with a Daler Rowney Flame Orange Ink. This is a VERY similar ink, the only difference I really saw was that when diluted a lot it leaned more yellow. Additionally I did not use the blue Faber Castel Pitt pen in the box. TECHNICALLY I could have made green for all those plant pictures, but I refused for the sake of keeping a cohesive Black/Orange color scheme

Ranger Craft-It! Heat Gun - I would not have been able to finish had I not been able to speed up the drying time with this thing, it is the best

Lots of background noise - My noise of choice was a mix between scary cave and cave diving stories, as well as the White Vault podcast, which is a fictional horror audio drama

Bonus Round: Number of OC Appearances

Tower: x4

Torch: x4 (one of them in his plantbeast form)

Cavi: x3

Mady: x1 (also the only non-sion in this list)

Team "New/WIP OCs" -

Aki: x5 (one of them as a doll)

Jas: x2

Aki's sibling (final name pending): x1 (as a statue)

[desn512shams]

Planning the Animation:

This is a terrible example, but it made sense to me. I had a few of these post-its. I visualised each section, revealing itself, with the middle 'more hidden' part emerging from the dark water in the middle.

I liked the fact that all aspects of the poster were dynamic, and could emote, or work to reflect their meaning, rather than remain static. So all aspects play a role, kinda like a dance, and choreography.

Other plans that were discarded:

-I considered having water sweep across both posters. It felt a bit too obvious, or on the nose? And then the other parts of the poster would just sit there, which would be a missed opportunity. Plus it felt like it would look different from my original posters. Isn't water flowing across more like a river, or a stream, rather than the sea? So I scratched that idea.

-Another idea was to have one poster on top of the other, and have them reduce in opacity and come through, revealing each other. But firstly, I didn't have the know-how to do that yet, and it does conflict with the side-by-side request from the brief....so didn't quite seem like the right way to start off. I thought I could revisit this one later if the other design idea wasn't panning out. (Spoiler; I ended up creating a hint/idea of this effect by using Gaussian Blur, in my final animated posters).

-I considered planning to use the water effect I had learned while I had been stumped when I first tried After Effects. The very first animation I made. I was honestly tempted, because it does look very cinematic. However, big problem; it's quite a 'blobby' shape, making the water texture of each letter, and I'd lose all my precise type design. Each letter has some fine elements. They'd all get lost. Plus a 'lifelike' water effect would also distort the original poster colours, again, a bad idea if I'm trying to represent the original poster set. Plus the complexity/timeframe; I'd have to create an adjustment layer for each letter, and time it just right. It would be a logistical nightmare since I still am learning, and dont know much about all the ins & outs yet. So it's a big nah from me.

[ohtobemare]

i feel like it’s kind of insulting and condescending to say the fandom as a whole is “one dimensional” and “can only go so deep”. sex and relationships aren’t shallow things. yes, there are stories written that portray them as such, but there are also well-crafted stories about the intimacy, sexual or not, between characters, and how ptsd affects the enlisted, and the back and forths between holding a grudge or forgiving someone who has wronged you. so yeah, there are people who mostly focus on the smut aspect, and that’s okay too because it’s all about personal preference, but i feel like it’s so discrediting to say the ENTIRE fandom is one dimensional when it very clearly is not.

and you’re entirely welcome to hold that opinion, as I am welcome to hold mine.

to be clear, I am not saying that sex and relationships are one dimensional. I am saying that the fandom itself is very underdeveloped and one-track—it doesn’t have much lore, it doesn’t have a *lot* of room as compared to something like Star Wars, for instance. they are designed first to be pieces of military propaganda (that’s why the military got involved, they could see an opportunity!) and second a story about, unironically, romantic/sexual relationships.

and you don’t much leave much room for grace or hyperbole, anon, which is funny because if you are who I think you are, you’re a writer and know what I’m talking about.

of course I don’t believe the entire fandom is smut—statistically speaking that’s not even possible. again, I said the majority. and it’s true, everyone here knows that. but throw a stick in the fandom and you’re more likely to hit a smut fic than a fic discussing PTSD, religion, forgiveness. and again, I announced that’s why I was leaving—there was too much. too many low hanging fruits to tempt a girl trying to walk a different path. too much heat, so I left the kitchen.

so you think I’m discredited. that’s fine. but like it or not there are people that feel the way I do, that are too scared to say something or shamed (because of folks like you!) to want out of something that makes them feel bad and make the decision, raise up the willpower, to leave. I was one of them and I hope my decision can maybe, someday, be an example to someone else. let me make my decision in peace. why can’t you let me have this?

it’s already hard enough, anonymous. why beat a horse that’s already struggling, as the moniker suggests?

news flash, cupcake—that very post I said you could forget me, that it was ok. and you can. I can’t imagine having the brainpower and the free time you must to keep flogging this thing…

[kinetic-elaboration]

October 19: Writing Plans for the Rest of the Year

I had a very nice autumnal hour sitting outside the new Starbucks with a pumpkin spice latte and pumpkin bread after work. The Starbucks is in such a weird location: it itself is pretty adorable but it's literally right on the road and there's a fair amount of traffic, which is kind of disorienting. I realize that sounds very normal but my other coffee shops are in pedestrian only and partially closed off streets so I'm really not used to cars so close.

Anyway, I did some thinking about where I am writing wise. I can see a clear path ahead for about a month, then it gets murkier.

Here's where I am/the plan coming up.

Troped Horror Exchange: I've written about a third of this, probably a bit less. That's not great but I'm planning/hoping to get a big chunk done this weekend. Overall I'm not really worried about not finishing, I'm worried about not having time to do anything ELSE. I won't love if this is my sole contribution this Halloween but still the most important thing is honoring my commitments so it will remain prio #1 until it's finished. No matter what, this will be done by the time November rolls around.

Halloween Ficlets: I really, really wanted to write ficlets this year and I still do. I'm going to try. 'Hauntings' won my little poll, so I've been following that idea, brainstorming, and planning some things out. As I said, I think there's a possibility I'll need to go all the way to Halloween with Troped. Even if I don't, I'd still be writing these last minute, so most likely optimistic scenario is they all post on Halloween or over the 30th/31st. I've basically decided that if I start the series I'll let myself go into the beginning of November to finish it. I did that in 2019; it's unideal but fine. But if I haven't even started or if it's going really poorly, I'll scrap the whole thing. Again, in one way or another, this will be off my to-do list as of the beginning of November.

Make a Lot of Money and Feel Dead Inside: The plan was always to get back to this after I finish the Halloween stuff, make it my first priority, and finish it "as soon as possible." I've firmed that up a little bit. I want to use this project for CalmWriMo and set myself the completely reasonable and attainable goal of finishing it by the end of the month. I only have 10 scenes left to write. There's a lot of editing still, but the writing is, I think, not too bad. I think it might even be possible that I finish with time to spare (will I regret typing that? lol). But basically, this is my November project.

...And now it's late November/early December. Here's the thing about this part of the year. First off, I have a huge Thanksgiving break, so potentially a lot of writing time there. And I'm going to see my family for Christmas as usual, so there is free time there as well. But on the other hand, it's dark, it's cold, it's busy.... I don't know. It's hard to predict how much writing energy I'll have.

And the second thing: it's a heavy 'event time.' Last year I had literally zero events for the first time in years and I anticipate 2023 will be the same. I still become very tempted to do, like, personal holiday events like a ficmas or an end of year thing but LBR fluff is not my strong suit as a writer. I can do it, I'm not being disparaging about myself, but I don't really care to churn out happy, sappy, romantic, conflict-less narratives. So, objectively, it would be better to just go back to the WIPs at this point.

But I like events, I like the holidays, I like special things. I don't know. I'll probably mull that over more starting in November, if I want to do SOMETHING, maybe a look to next year's projects or like some small fics or something, I don't know, or if I just want to go back to some other project to get a head start on 2024.

I like having a plan ahead of time because I really get stuck with the tyranny of choice. Like, I can't double think anything in my life. I have to just do things without thinking or I'll cease to want to do them. Writing included. So I don't want to finish Money and go like ??? what now? But I also don't want to plan too far ahead and tell myself I have to do or should do such-and-such a project and then I'm not remotely in that mood when the end of November rolls around. So.

But it will be nice to kind of have a blank slate again? Like a blank slate of my 50-ish ideas? I don't know. Money came out of nowhere and hit me in the face and I love it and am proud of it but it also just completely took over my life for about 9 weeks? And now I'm frantically trying to make horror season work. So really the last time I thought about the WIPs was mid-July. It has...been a while.

[from-a-reckless-writer]

RE: the tags about being tempted to post a half finished fic and guess the ending, well you are a reckless writer for a reason

this is long overdue, so here have a fic.

It has come to the point that nothing fazes her anymore.

A kidnapping? Been there, done that. It means calling Sam Arias to intimidate the board of members into temporary submission.

An explosion at the office? Just a typical Tuesday. It means relocating to the 23rd floor and sharing the desk with two other interns for 2 months tops.

An assassination attempt? It means bracing herself for at least 3 deliveries of donuts and coffee for the two following weeks that Kara Danvers would be protectively hovering over L-Corp, until her boss snaps and shoos her away back to CatCo.

She’s seen it all, endured it all and she sure as hell is prepared for it all. She’s got three different ironclad statements ready to publish for whatever PR disaster will most likely turn up that week. She’s got contacts from the FBI, DEO, CatCo, Daily Planet, Gotham Gazette-- hell she even has Lillian’s personal cell (just in case the Luthor matriarch ever tries anything y’know? ) and yes, even the number of that 'Mexican place at 5th and Spring, you know the one Kara likes, Jess?'

She’s got two pairs of heels, a raincoat and four sets of outfits neatly folded in a duffel bag, at the back of the office, reserved for any emergency that requires a change of clothes.

The point is, she is an independent Asian-American woman who has worked her ass off for the better part of the decade and has long learned to take no shit from anybody.

Not even stupid superpowered Kryptonians.

See, it takes a lot to be her. It takes unlimited patience to put up with a woman like Lena Luthor, not because she’s a terrible person. Oh no, no, the complete opposite, actually. She is so overwhelmingly kind to a fault, and she doesn’t want nor let anybody see it. It’s infuriating to see sometimes. Okay, fine, she sides with the Krytonian on that one matter. But oh, ho, ho, not today. Today, she’s mad.

She’s livid, actually and it’s all Supergirl’s fault. (and Lena Luthor's too.)

Jess has had her fair share of ‘I-Should-Not-Have-Been-Here’ moments, like that one time she forgot to knock and stumbled unto Lex mid-yell with Lena whose eyes were shimmering but was still keeping a rigid posture.

Or that one time when she thought her boss had long left the office, only to be greeted with quiet sobs and an empty bottle of scotch rolling on the floor. Or that time she happened upon Lena, skirt and sleeves on fire with fumes rising from a green solution.

Apparently, her staff from the lab refused to let her in after three days of their CEO holding herself in isolation with the experiment. Lena had gotten the great idea of smuggling the chemicals to her office instead. Luthors are nothing but determined. Jess still remembers the adrenaline rush of holding a fire extinguisher—as if she were the chosen 5th grader for a school fire drill—and shoving her boss out of the way.

Like she said, nothing fazes her anymore she’s seen it all, except maybe, this one. Yep, definitely this one. This one just made a hot ball of fury unfurl at her very core. This one might just take the cake.

Jess was just going about her day, returned from a hearty lunch and feeling reinvigorated from that dose of sunlight and fresh air. It was a quiet day today, she noticed, which should’ve been a foretelling.

Nothing really is ever quiet. Well, when it comes to L-Corp, at least.

She’s been sitting on her desk for about a good fifteen minutes and finished with screening a few papers from their new contractors, when it occurs to her that the latest blueprints from R&D are still on her desk instead of already being reviewed by her boss.

She grabs the drawing tube and quickly makes for her boss’s private office. They’ve spent enough time with each other that Jess could just come and go as she pleases, instead of having to knock each time. Saves both of their time, that way.

Although, usually, she buzzes through the intercom first to double check, but it was 1:20 P.M and she knows Lena doesn’t have anything scheduled after lunch. So, she pushes the door, confidently strolls in and promptly stops in her tracks.

Jess stops breathing for a moment, blinks once, twice, stares at the scene before her.

Lena Luthor sat atop her work desk; blouse open, eyes closed, cheeks flushed, neck currently being ravaged by Supergirl with legs wrapped around the waist.

She probably should’ve just turned and left while they haven’t seen her yet. That would’ve been the smart decision, right? Yes. Yes, it was so very clearly The Right Decision.

Of course, she doubts she could look Lena in the eye for the next few weeks after that, but at least she wouldn’t know that Jess walked in on them during an er- make-out session? Office tryst? Oh God, she shudders internally. It sounds even worse.

Incident? Yep. Yeah. She’s sticking with incident. Indecent incident sounds more apt really.

She should’ve left. Would have left, if her eyes didn’t just land on the desk—well, more like Miss Luthor’s as- backside—and felt the stirrings of rage make itself known. Because there, underneath Lena’s ass (Backside!! Jess, that’s your boss!) is the squished—probably crumpled—pages of a contract.

A contract they’ve spent 5 months securing!!

Jess decides to do what everyone else would have done in a situation such as this; she clears her throat. Loudly.

Classic move.

Supergirl’s head immediately shoots up and Lena’s eyes snap open.

“Jess!” Supergirl squeaks and she sees the exact moment the realization hits Lena. Her eyes widening at her girlfriend’s exclamation, whips her head to the side, spots Jess, hands scrambling to a panic to close all the buttons of her blouse.

She hears Lena hiss, “Fuck, shit. Oh my God. Shit. How did she even- You have superhearing!!!” as she pushes Supergirl—who lets herself be pushed, stunned by the intrusion, face redder than a tomato.

Lena gets off the desk, fixes herself all the while to futile results. Her hair is tugged down from her usual ponytail, her neck and chest is marked, her lips swollen.

Supergirl's hands twitch at the sides and Jess sees her gulp as blue eyes frantically dart to Lena and her, and then Lena, and then back to her.

Lena finally turns around after those few awkward beats.

"Jess," she begins, clearly trying hard to put on her business bitch persona, but come on, there's a hickey under her jaw for fuck's sake.

"It's not what you-"

Jess doesn’t let her finish, she stomps her way across the office and forcefully puts the drawing tube on the desk. It makes a hollow thump.

“Jess I-”

“Supergirl, do you know how long it takes to finalize a business proposal, pitch it to the board, persuade the board and finally have a contract drawn?”

Supergirl gulps again. Lena’s eyes are wild next to her, she doesn’t like not knowing what the next best move is, Jess knows this all too well.

“Uhhh- no?”

Jesus Christ, you’d think after years of shadowing Cat Grant, she'd had at least learned a thing or two. Then again, if somebody is full on glaring at her after getting caught red-handed, Jess doubts she could answer coherently too.

“That’s right,” Jess says, “You don’t.”

“Jess,” Lena repeats pointedly. She knows that tone. It’s a warning.

“Ms. Luthor.”

A period not a question mark. It’s a challenge.

"I've spent all my evenings working late on that, do you know how many dates I've had to cancel? Just so I can secure a meeting with Qatar and simultaneously sync it with Beijing's time? My boyfriend hasn't seen me in two weeks!” Jess bursts out.

“Two weeks, Supergirl!” She gets close enough to jab a finger to the Girl of Steel’s chest. A feat she will gladly tell all her coworkers later when she’s calmed down enough.

“Not to mention, the 10 other people who worked their ass off trying to make sure that Miss Luthor's presentation is airtight, bulletproof and waterproof!” Lena has the decency to look a little guilty at this point, nothing big though, just a slight tug at her lips, but it was enough for Jess.

“IT TOOK ME 3 FUCKING MINUTES TO PRINT THAT GODDAMN CONTRACT WHICH MIGHT NOT SOUND LONG—” Jess raises a finger in emphasis, “BUT BELIEVE ME WORKING IN L-CORP? A 3 MINUTE DIFFERENCE CAN MEAN AN ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT OR PSYCHOPATH PRESS!”

Supegirl of all people should already know this! For fuck’s sake!

Jess’s chest is heaving. She takes a deep breath, kneads her knuckles to her eyelids, “So, please if you're gonna have sex in the office, please, pleaseeeee clear the desk first. And at least, lock the door.”

She stares them both down, till Lena gives her a solemn nod; cheeks and ears still red. Supergirl squeaks out an, “U-understood, Ma’am.”

“Good. Glad we’ve come to an agreement.” Jess gives them one final nod before finally fulfilling what she came in here to do, “Miss Luthor,” She turns to Lena, “here are the R&D blueprints. Good day, to you Supergirl. I'll be going now. "

When she finally goes home, tells her boyfriend, and wonders aloud if she’ll still have a job the next morning, he tells her she’s such a badass.

And well, Jess can’t disagree with that.

*****

"Did I just- Did I just get yelled at by your secretary?? D-did she just chew us out?"

"She did, and she deserves a raise."

[cherrygyusworld]

[12:58 am] (m.l)

cherrygyusworld

please don’t copy or rewrite/post as your own. none of the following images are mine; copyright goes to owner! if you’d like to take this idea and use it, that’s fine, but I’d ask that you don’t make the scenario exactly the same and use a different layout. enjoy!

summary | mark calls you one night after the breakup, hoping to say the words he’d never been able to express before. 

category | angst

warnings | none

word count | 585

pairing | mark x fem reader

Mark fumbled with the phone in his hands, tossing and turning in his sleep. In the other room, he could hear his other band members snoring, but he just couldn't seem to get any rest tonight. He was tired, relaxed, and ready to go to bed, but for some reason, sleep just wouldn't come to get him.

Being the overthinker he was, he couldn't help but start regretting the decision to break up. He didn't even know why those words came out of his mouth one day. He didn't even know why he came home and just felt exhausted with you. He didn't even know how he would say such a heartbreaking thing to you. He didn't even know why he claimed to have fallen out of love with you.

Nobody said it out loud, but Mark always knew what they were thinking. They thought he was stupid for letting you go. And Mark couldn't help but agree. Every night since those few weeks ago, he'd fallen asleep with his phone in his hands; tempted to call you but too cowardly to press the button. He knew you hated him, and he didn't think he could bear hearing the venom in your voice.

But for some reason, his hands slowly searched through his contacts again. The route was so familiar that he could probably call you with his eyes closed. He stared at your contact picture; your bright eyes, silky hair, beautiful smile. And his thumb propelled itself towards the call button. He shut his eyes closed as tight as he could when the ringing started.

You picked up after exactly four rings. Mark braced himself for the screaming to begin, calling him a jerk, but that never came.

"Hey," you said. Mark's heart fluttered at your voice. There was no hatred, no accusations, no poison in your voice. Instead, you sounded worried, slightly breathless.

"Mark?" You called again, and this time, a tear crept out from his eye after hearing his name from your lips again. He opened his mouth to say something, but only a silent cry came out.

He could almost feel you looking at the phone screen in confusion. "M-Mark? Are you okay?"

He shook his head, begging you to hear him through the screen. No, I'm not okay. I need you. Please come back.

After moments of silence, a quiet sigh came from the other side of the phone. "Hey, I'm always here if you need me. I don't know why you called. Maybe it was accidental. But I'm just a phone call away."

Mark wanted to say everything. I'm sorry. I never meant to say any of those words, and these past few weeks have been the hardest of my entire life. I miss you so much. Please come back. But whenever he tried to open his mouth, fear of losing you again, hatred for himself, and the cowardly instinct crept up to his heart and stopped him from speaking.

There was silence for another several seconds, and the line went dead. Mark could feel his heart shattering once again, and this time, he could finally let out an audible cry. The first tear he'd let out since the breakup.

"I'm sorry. Please come back."

Little did he know, on the other side of the country, you sat in your bed, staring at your phone screen silently. You were shaking and sobbing, tempted to press the call button again. But you just couldn't.

"I'm sorry, Mark. Please come back."

[thesoulspulse]

Regarding My Unseelie Vlad AU (Part 1)

I don’t know why it is I can’t get this idea out of my head- actually, no wait yes I do since I love fairytales and fae folklore- but looks like I should go ahead and just flesh out this AU too to get it out of my system. I blame the awesome person who shared this German ballad with me called “Der Erlkönig” which I can’t get out of my head since it’s just so incredible: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NmvjYBo-lRY

As for the ballad itself was a poem originally written by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe in 1782 and the song in the link I shared was one of the most famously composed versions of it by Franz Schubert in 1815 sung by Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau who was accompanied by the pianist Gerald Moore in 1959. By the way, the painting above was done by Julius von Klever in 1887 so needless to say this song/poem/ballad has a long history and I absolutely love it! It’s not just really good in general, but the story of this song is so cool and yet creepy so another shout out goes to @small-helm​!

To sum it up, the ballad is about a father riding home through the woods on his horse with his son who keeps seeing and hearing the voice of the elf/fae king who keeps trying to tempt him and lure him into joining him in his forest forever and his father keeps trying to assure his son there’s nothing there. As the song goes on the father gets more worried for his son as he tells his father what he’s seeing. Meanwhile the elf/fae king grows increasingly frustrated because the boy keeps refusing his offer so towards the end of their journey he lashes out which sadly, just as the pair finally manage to escape the forest and reach their farm on the opposite side, the boys soul had already been taken by the fae king and he died in his father’s arms.

The whole story is super creepy and tragic but that’s just what the old fae were like. Most of them were dark, selfish,and dangerous creatures blamed for most problems in European folklore...

Anyways, I actually got the idea to draw a fae version of Vlad on my discord server which is what this whole post is about. I drew him before this song was shared with me and I tried to give him this sort of dried/withered rose aesthetic. I even wrote a brief description for this characterization which isn’t too far from the way Vlad was in his first appearance in the episode “Bitter Reunions.”

Vladislav's  -or Vlad in simpler human terms- skin was cold and coarse, like the withered branches of a tree desperately clinging to the last traces of warmth from the summer sun, but to no avail with horns curling from his temple and cheek bones in the shape of a stag's antlers. And his dark hair shimmered strangely in the light, as if it were dusted in ash, and was black as charcoal with streaks of silver that appeared similar to  the pattern of a badger's fur coat. A lush red cloak the color of dried  blood or maple leaves rested on his broad shoulders, finely embroidered  with gnarled roots around the collar which carried the heavy musk of  dried roses, damp earth, and the old but familiar scent of cedarwood. Lastly, a pair of ageless molten red eyes peered into his seeing stone where a raven haired boy with sky blue eyes could be seen wearing an old faded green cloak, fleeing into the forest under the cover of darkness in the hopes of evaded his fate of being handed over to the King of the Unseelie Court. 

"Foolish child," Vlad thought with a frown. "I rule  this dark forest and you cannot escape your destiny. You will come to  rule at my side eventually. But run if you must dear boy. I will be  watching your every footfall, listening as you whisper my name in fear  while sleeping underneath the stars. And I will be waiting for you to  come to your senses and return to me willingly, my son. Because if not, I  have other means of persuading you..."

I reblogged this next part after the song was shared with me:

...this song really does suit Unseelie Vlad quite nicely! Well, minus the bad end as it were, then again maybe in this case Danny’s father Jack convinced King Vladislav, aka Unseelie Vlad, to revive Danny with the promise he’ll surrender his son to him one day but for now Jack just wants a few more years with him since he’s still so young and time means little to the Fae. Ultimately Vlad agrees more because he still wants the boy as his own son, lamenting letting his anger and frustration at Danny’s refusals to get the better of him to the point of fatally injuring his already frail body. He’s not moved by Jack’s pleas or tears at all since in his mind, he stole Danny from him by riding out of his forest in the first place.

However, since Vlad’s fae magic is what revived Danny, it connects them, alters him, and basically Danny then becomes a changeling or Fae Touched according to this cool DnD concept (https://www.medievalchaos.ca/race/fae-touched) which makes him stronger, faster, and more attuned with magic and nature than a normal human. And with that, it seems yet another AU Vlad is born I guess along with Danny so I may have to draw him later too. I really only meant to share a basic idea since Vlad is basically similar to his canon self in that he’s selfish and will do anything to get Danny to join him and become his son.

Since the original story from the song fit so perfectly it’s now an official part of my Unseelie Vlad AU’s headcanon. Now I just need to work out the details for the rest of the main cast and I’ll share that in the next post. I just wanted to put this all together in one place first since once again, something that I drew with only a basic idea in mind has evolved into something more. I love it but I’m also like “Crap...I’m supposed to be busy cleaning up my fanfic ‘Nowhere To Run,’ trying to complete my ‘Ghost Stories’ fangame demo before Halloween hits next month, preparing the spooky events I have planned for my Discord server as soon as October starts, but all these cool new ideas keep distracting me!!!”

This comic strip by @s-kinnaly​ sums up my struggle pretty accurately...

And so ends part 1 and I’ll get into the rest of the Danny Phantom gang in part 2!

Part 2: https://thesoulspulse.tumblr.com/post/663360718673936384/regarding-my-unseelie-vlad-au-part-2

[naturalbeautyhelp]

Acne Cures on a budget  (revamped)

Acne is a very tricky subject that millions of people struggle with- sometimes for their entire lives. If you have struggled yourself I’m sure you’re aware that there is no cure-all for acne, but there may be some methods for healing the skin that you haven’t heard yet so I’m going to share everything I know with you just in case.  First, the basics:

1. Drink plenty of water and eat healthy foods. This is just a given. If you want to feel comfortable in your skin you may have to make some lifestyle changes. that Includes getting regular exercise and sunlight. 2. Recognize the fact that your skin is an organ. Like any organ it has an ecosystem of healthy bacteria that ought to be treated with care- much like a garden. It will need different things on different days, and in order to reach it’s fullest potential, the gardener (that’s you) will need to pay close attention to it. 

3. Be aware that pimples are infected pores which are attempting to heal themselves. The puss inside of them is a soup of white blood cells which are trying to repair the skin for some reason. Finding the root cause of the infection before treatment is ideal. 

A few common acne culprits: Your acne could be hormonal, it could be caused by allergies (ex: food allergies, detergent allergies), or your skin may be getting bacterial infections from unsanitary surfaces or poor air quality. 

Now to get into the technical stuff: 

~If your skin is hurting, red, swollen, try putting down harsh chemicals like Niacinamide and Retinol, and try something calming like rosehip oil or aloe vera.

  Amaranthus oil, tea tree oil, rapeseed oil, rosewater, and witch hazel are all examples of gentle things that are amazing for the skin. I know natural skin healers can be very expensive, but if you can’t afford them don’t hesitate to steel them from your local, unethical corporate store. If you need tips on s***lifting,  try visiting this Reddit community at   https://www.reddit.com/r/IllegalLifeProTips/

~Rinse your face with cool or cold water every time you wash it. This seals up your pores and prevents dirt and bacteria from entering them.

~Make sure that the things that touch your face every day are clean. Make sure that the cloths and towels that you use on your face are clean. Disinfect face tools regularly and use hot water on wash cloths to kill bacteria between washes.  Clean your glasses. Change your sheets and pillow cases frequently. In addition, avoid touching your face constantly with your hands as well as your hair, and keep your hands and hair clean. 

~⚠️Don’t pick your face! Pimples are like Petri dishes full of puss and bacteria and when you pop them you are just spreading the ickiness around to the rest of your face. In addition to that, every time you pop a pimple you are damaging the barrier of your skin, which not only can cause scarring and dark spots, but it can leave your skin vulnerable to bad bacteria and cause further breakouts. For these reasons, you should only pop a zit as a last resort. 

~Popping: If you have very stubborn acne and insist on popping anyway, go to an aesthetician if you have the privilege to do so

If you can not see an aesthetician, try this method for safe pimple popping: 

Wash the affected area with hot water and a mild soap. Pop the pimple making sure you get EVERYTHING out of it, wash it again with extra hot water, dry it with something clean. Then, apply lots of pressure to the popped pimple so that it doesn't get the chance to “refill” itself (use a q-tip if you have one for at least 30 seconds to 5 minutes depending on how big the pimple is). Next, put some rubbing alcohol, and some diluted tea tree oil on the pimple and cover it with the sticky part of a band-aid. Leave the band-aid on until you are certain that it will not grow back.

~🛑 Stop using all of those skincare products. Obviously if they worked, you wouldn't even be reading this. Using certain products (especially the harsher ones) can cause allergic reactions and sometimes dry out your skin, which can trigger your skin to produce extra oil to overcompensate, which leads to acne. They also tend to eat away at you financially. Break the vicious cycle. Try tossing all of your products and use a mild soap and simple moisturizer for a few weeks before starting anything new again.

If you insist on using acne products then follow this important rule.                 🚨 🚨  Do not use multiple products within the same 3 weeks. Doing this makes it impossible to figure out which products could be helping or causing further damage to your skin.

~Know that many skin care products do have valuable substances, but they use fillers and fragrances that can ruin your skin. Try looking at the ingredients in your skin care products, researching the individual components, and purchasing said components individually. Ex: instead of buying an ‘aloe infused moisturizer’, try purchasing real aloe vera gel- or better yet buy an aloe vera plant- and use that ingredient as you see fit. It can be more cost effective, better for the environment, and a good learning experience. 

~Avoid wearing foundation and concealer. Of course it is tempting to cover acne with makeup, but your makeup can add fuel to the fire by clogging pores and spreading bad bacteria 

~If you are applying makeup to the face, make sure that you are regularly cleaning your brushes and disinfecting your pallets. Dirty makeup supplies don’t just contribute to acne, they can cause gnarly infections in sensitive areas (like the eyes) and send you to the hospital.

Now here are some advanced methods for healing the skin. Feel free to alter them so that they suit your specific needs:

🧖🏾‍♀️The Steam Method:

If you suspect that your soap is a culprit, or you just want to try something new, replace your morning cleansing routine with this (give skin 2 weeks time to purge before deciding whether or not this works for you). Get a light oil, preferably rosehip or coconut, and rub it on your face very well for at least 30 seconds. Then, take a clean washcloth and submerge it in the hottest water you can take. Take the washcloth and firmly press it against the entire surface of your face until it cools. Use the cloth to remove all the oil you can manage. 

🧖🏼‍♀️The other Steam Method:

Get a pot and boil water in it. Put your face over the boiling water (not too close lol) and let the steam open up your pores for 5-10 minutes. After you are done, use a clean, damp washcloth to wipe your face. Then get an ice cube or cold water and put it all over your face to seal your pores back up. Personally I like putting tea in the water sometimes. Peppermint tea and green tea are great. 

🩹 Bandaging:

Now this might sound ridiculous, but I have learned that putting bandages/band-aids onto your face at night can make a world of difference when it comes to acne and hyperpigmentation. My personal method is this: each night after I steam and wash my face, I put tiny bit of rubbing alcohol onto each pimple. I then wash and sanitize my hands with rubbing alcohol, apply diluted tea tree oil to each problem area on my face, and then take an ordinary cloth bandage and cover every zit that I can find. After each zit is covered, I apply moisturizer and serums to the rest of the face as I normally would. Change bandages frequently (1-3 times a day depending on how oily your skin is), and leave them on the affected area until swelling has gone down. Repeat the process as many times as you’d like. 

Usually normal bandaids are fine, but at times when my acne flares up badly I will go so far as to use gauze on large areas of my face. The cloth absorbs any oil that your skin secrets while protecting it from bacteria and sweat all night long, and the bandage seals in the tea tree oil so that it can penetrate your pores. I have noticed that the sticky part of a bandaid does the best job at diffusing large pimples as opposed to the white cloth part which is best for blackheads. 

~If all else fails and you have done your best to cure acne at home, consider talking to a doctor if you have that option. 🥼 They may try to prescribe an acne medication, but these options tend to be extremely expensive and hard on your organs. Ask them if you can try a prescribed antibiotic supplement first. 

Last but certainly not least: Sit with the fact that picture perfect skin is not healthy skin. As mentioned earlier, your skin is an organ. And it’s job is merely to protect your insides- not to get you onto the cover of a magazine. Your skin is not meant to look like the porcelain on a doll. 

💊💊💊💊💊And that is it! wow that was a long post. I hope this can help at least one person out there with their skin troubles because this took forever