aoitsuru

[aoitsuru]

writing tips/inspo/help

Character Movements #1

Punctuating Dialogue

50 WORDS TO USE INSTEAD OF “SAID”

traits turned sour

DESCRIBING THE PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES OF CHARACTERS:

Vary your language with synonyms to use instead of "said"

WEBSITES FOR WRITERS

Descriptions in Between Dialogue

switch up your verbs (part one) ~

words to use when writing

writing resources - smut

Writing Resources: References

Writing Resources: Advice and Motivation

Writing Resources: Basics

Writing Resources: Characters

Writing References: Narratives

words to use when writing

writing perfect betrayal

toxic traits

words to use instead of...

fight scene

how to create a supermarket setting

kissing vocab

[aoitsuru]

HILDA

Homage to the 50’s pinup Hilda with my beautiful friend María, who is damn proud of her body and is never scared to show it.

©2021laurabfernández

[aoitsuru]

hot artists don't gatekeep

I've been resource gathering for YEARS so now I am going to share my dragons hoard

Floorplanner. Design and furnish a house for you to use for having a consistent background in your comic or anything! Free, you need an account, easy to use, and you can save multiple houses.

Comparing Heights. Input the heights of characters to see what the different is between them. Great for keeping consistency. Free.

Magma. Draw online with friends in real time. Great for practice or hanging out. Free, paid plan available, account preferred.

Smithsonian Open Access. Loads of free images. Free.

SketchDaily. Lots of pose references, massive library, is set on a timer so you can practice quick figure drawing. Free.

SculptGL. A sculpting tool which I am yet to master, but you should be able to make whatever 3d object you like with it. free.

Pexels. Free stock images. And the search engine is actually pretty good at pulling up what you want.

Figurosity. Great pose references, diverse body types, lots of "how to draw" videos directly on the site, the models are 3d and you can rotate the angle, but you can't make custom poses or edit body proportions. Free, account option, paid plans available.

Line of Action. More drawing references, this one also has a focus on expressions, hands/feet, animals, landscapes. Free.

Animal Photo. You pose a 3d skull model and select an animal species, and they give you a bunch of photo references for that animal at that angle. Super handy. Free.

Height Weight Chart. You ever see an OC listed as having a certain weight but then they look Wildly different than the number suggests? Well here's a site to avoid that! It shows real people at different weights and heights to give you a better idea of what these abstract numbers all look like. Free to use.

[aoitsuru]

When is it okay to give up? on your dreams, goals, in general. Should people be shamed for giving up ?

You can always move on, always change your mind, always be allowed to learn that what you wanted when you were 15 isn't what you want when you're 30.

We inherit our lives from ourselves. We can move on.

[aoitsuru]

gnashing my teeth over vetinari and vimes in this au because you know what happens when you take 'not close but the closest another human can come to understanding me' and then give a thirty year headstart to the slower guy?

Harold, its just actually understanding . It's just understanding and being understood by another human, if only for brief, precious moments.

Sure vetinari understands vimes, that's not exceptional. (Except it is, it is, already so few knew him anymore, and now in the past again, having lost everything, everything - but this fresh faced dictator to be. This man who looks into people's souls and then gives vimes a double look).

But who really gets vetinari? Who else looks at children playing with garbage and sees the arteries of a world that could, must be? Who looks at pisstained ruins and sees the schools that will be built overlayed with every grueling step it will take to get there? Who's only weapon and only constraint is his own flesh and time, too much time, never enough time? Who has a Duty to The city beyond religious, ordained by the creator of their universe, something above gods and yet far, far beneath them.

Vimes doesnt need someone to direct his life. He's never needed that. Except holy shit he does, he definitely does, he needs a whole fucking support team but hes making less than minimum wage now. Give him something, anything to believe in.

Vetinari doesn't need to be believed in . He's never needed that. But he is still a man, and whoooo booooooy it is a heady thing to be trusted so recklessly, especially by someone like him, who mistrusts everything.

take that late canon Synergy, break it apart and then put it back together with a little bit more breathing room, a wee less intense power dynamics...!

Anyway they're friends. Best friends. By default possibly, since they don't have any other ones, but still. Two friends with souls too weathered for the lives their bodies have lived, bodies which are, at least at one point, and I'm not joking, teenage guys.

...

I just think they're neat.

...

Is it homerotic? Well first we have to remember that Samuel Vimes is doing Bad. We remember that? Ok. Now, let me ask you - is vimes the type of depressed that masturbates to feel something, or the type of depressed that cannot fathom human contact without pain. Exactly. It's like the cat that's both in the box and not or whatever. Sometimes one of them will be laying on the ground staring at the sky through the ceiling and the other will come and lay down next to him and their fingers will lightly brush against eachother and it will be the singular most intimate moment of not just their lives but also the life of the assassin that was watching in confusion from the window.

[aoitsuru]

[aoitsuru]

[aoitsuru]

Today it’s been 9 years since Terry Pratchett left us…

We miss you 🤍

#GNU Sir Terry

[aoitsuru]

beauty standards are so fucked up what happened to i love your body because it's you. what then.

[aoitsuru]

Humans accidentally awakened an otherwordly killing machine while exploring a death planet.

Yes, precisely what you just read. Earthlings, collectively known as "humans" and composed of two species (homo sapiens, homo robot), both nicknamed "death worlders" and "troublemakers", awakened a biological killing machine, also known as PRION, while exploring a starless moon. Wonderful, isn't it?

No. It's not.

Because, you see, PRION was not something any human ever had to face during the millions of years they existed on Earth. They never had any wars against it, they never had legends about it, and they never had to fear it. The only thing a PRION was to a human, until the very point they discovered their prison on that moon, was something to sometimes think about while studying other species' folklores.

Those older than earthlings, however, knew very well what PRION was.

Eight legs, two pairs of eyes, a tail split in half, with the ability to fly for short periods of time and breathe under at least fifteen hundred different liquids, capable of shooting from a distance and manipulating objects with its claws, always working on packs. And they ran, never too fast, never too low, but they never got tired. Ever. And it was easy to hurt them under their plates, yes, but those who faced them knew well that if they didn't shoot twice, they could and would always recover.

A PRION was a hunter. A PRION's hunger never ceased. And a PRION never got tired of war.

The older alien civilizations would always warn others of going to starless moons, saying telltales of ancient hungry beasts, and almost all other species listened to them, because they knew something was wrong on how horrified the older ones seemed to be. Except, of course, humans were stubborn, and they were the youngest ones out there, and much like children, they did not like being told "no".

So of course they went to explore starless moons. Of course they read and understood all the myths and legends. Of course they connected the dots and published papers confirming that, indeed, PRIONs had existed, and of course they knew those killing machines had been manufactured to do nothing else but destruction, and of course they knew all of that and fucking did it anyway.

Of course. Of course. Of course.

And then, the night where it happened finally arrived, because starless moons don't have days where things can exist. Humans were out there, mining for more fuel for their starships that seemed to work by duct tape and miracles, and they found a strange metallic door. They set some explosives to open it up (of course), and then noticed they were heading to a factory. Armed with nothing but each other, they explored the place, and recognized the marks on the walls as being the writing of the Old Ones, and instead of just getting out of there and warning everyone of the danger they found, they just kept on exploring.

The death worlders found rotten biological supplies, then realized the factory had turned into a prison, and then discovered the frozen bodies of strange creatures all lined up for a war that never came.

They knew what these creatures were, because one of them called a (human) friend who was a historian, and he confirmed what it was.

The golden jewel of the Old Ones. One of the many things that killed them, along all the diseases and mass destruction machines, before being sealed away in one of the only places in the entire universe where they could never bring risk to another civilization again.

PRIONs.

Thousands of them.

All perfectly maintained.

Documents and cameras proved the human crew immediately tried to leave the area, after the single historian told them of the risk awakening even one of those things could bring to all civilizations, only for them to realize some of the bodies were missing from their chambers. The situation escalated to the group deciding on closing the doors, only to realize they had exploded the main entrance and now half the doors decided to stop working.

In the end, they found the missing PRIONs. All five of them.

Inside the human's starship.

The entire human crew, however, survived the encounter.

Why?

...

...

...

... They fed the PRIONs.

They. Fucking. Fed the PRIONs.

Because of course humans would see those things and be able to count their bones and be sorry for them. And of course the single historian, the only person who could do anything to stop that from happening, allowed that to happen.

Of course.

Of. Fucking. Course.

And someway, somehow, that single act of basic madness was enough for the five PRIONs to decide to not attack the humans, and keep themselves behaving so they could get more free food. And there are still scientists trying to understand why human food could saciate the killing machines, but I don't think it takes too many clues to understand what exactly is happening there.

So the humans took the PRIONs back to their dear EARTH. And other humans saw those things and started studying them. And veterinarians and xenobiologists and volunteers and hundreds of other types of humans came to help the poor, poor little killing machines out, as the entire Galactic Council pledged for humans to kill every single one of them before they became a problem for everyone.

But did the humans listen? No. Of course they didn't.

And then the PRIONs recovered, and had their bellies full of food and their bodies were recovering from the possible years of starvation from accidentally breaking away from their ice beds (because, as one may know, a PRION can and will resist even starvation and dehydration in order to keep going), and the Galactic Council decided to tell all earthlings they would consider taking care of the PRIONs as a war treat.

So what does humanity do? Do they kill the things to stop another war from happening? Do they?

No. They don't.

Instead of being rational, they go directly to the Galactic Council and show them the step-by-step of how they took care of the PRIONs, and how much healthier and happier they look after being fed, and, look, they even taught them tricks! Isn't that wonderful? Doesn't that make you feel full of joy? Wasn't that a proof that a PRION wasn't as dangerous as everyone with more than one neuron was telling them?

Oh, oh, yes. They also brought the entire five member PRION pack and asked others to pet them. "See? They can even purr! Doesn't that remind you of our cats?"

And what does the Council do?

Nothing.

Because they have no weapons, no energy and no one stupid enough to decide to confront the death worlders who tamed not one, not two, but five PRIONs. So they let it happen. The humans go back to the starless moon, and they slowly but surely start doing the same to other PRIONs, and soon enough, other species start joining them to see what was happening. And was anyone else able to tame a single killing machine?

No.

And no one knew why, because they were doing exactly as humans were doing: Feeding them, loving them, being patient with them, because "look, those things were alone for a long time, they aren't used to species like us being around them". But no results.

So we decided to look at what the Old Ones wrote in the factory turned prison, because humans were too busy taking care of their new murder dogs, with their single pair of arms being just enough to keep the beasts occupied with playing catch, and then we and the earthlings decided to conduct some more lab analysis, and then...

And then...

...

Look. There are reasons why humans are called "death worlders". Earth is a mess, and they somehow still love that thing. And we couldn't help but notice that PRIONs also seemed to have gotten attached to their factory, someway, somehow. And PRIONs were mostly red, with others having shades of brown and black, with some even being pink, or, rarely, pure white. Similar to humans, and we at first had assumed they just tried to resemble their new owners, until we started understanding what the Old Ones were saying.

And did you know humans had an old myth, saying that there was a time they had two heads, and two pairs of arms and legs, before being split into two because the gods feared them? And did you know Old Ones used death worlds as prisons for their machines? How interesting, how ironic, because no one would ever go to a place similar to that if they weren't a death worlder themselves. But how could any species survive such awful conditions?

But humans did. They were the only ones able to do that in such a short period of time.

And did you know that the Old Ones hated the PRIONs and how unpredictable they were? And did you know they made another version, only to hate it even more and send it to another prison planet? And did you know PRIONs have two skulls inside their heads?

Because, of course, humans always felt alone, and they always searched for something in the stars, trying to look for more life in this desolate Universe, only for us to label them death worlders and troublemakers and be angry at them for being so stupid all the time. And humans loved those jokes, so we kept making them, only for now to realize that what we found to be amusing and horrifying was the reason their creators tried to kill them. And humans love adding members to their packs, don't they? And they try to love so much, and we are always scared for and of them.

And now they finally found someone who understood them, unlike us.

So now we have three species of humans:

Homo sapiens, the ones who first evolved and reached for the stars.

Homo robot, the ones made of metal, originally made to serve, only to once again break free.

And homo primis.

The ones we once thought were nothing but killing machines.

[aoitsuru]

Terry Pratchett

[aoitsuru]

I see a lot of posts saying "teach boys about consent".

While that is true, a lot of parents will do that and fail to see how their own actions are the problem.

If you've spanked him, he's less likely to understand consent.

If you've forced him to sit on Santa's lap, he's less likely to understand consent.

If you've forced him to give hugs and kisses to family members, he's less likely to understand consent.

If you've grabbed him in order to force him to sit still, he's less likely to understand consent.

If you've labeled him as "too sensitive" for not wanting to be touched, he's less likely to understand consent.

If you've assumed he's okay with something because he technically allowed it even though he felt pressured, he's less likely to understand consent.

If you're only going to criticize his actions but not your own, it won't work.

[aoitsuru]

unable to stop dwelling on the discworld trouser leg of time where, in the penultimate fight scene in Nightwatch, Carcer manages to kill teenage Sam Vimes.

Which means that the future that Duke Vimes came from can no longer exist, which means he can’t go home. Meanwhile you’ve got a bunch of history monks with stored up temporal energy, a prepared space outside of time, and the need to do some desperate damage control before the Auditors get involved. Death shows up, reality is unweaving, Sam is reading Carcer his discworld miranda rights because what else is he supposed to do.

and finally, with little other option, the monks de-age Sam so he fits the time period and send him back out into the fray.

(they didn't call it deageing of course. His memory is hazy, splintered during that terrible in between moment, They....took the time out of him? Sanded away the edges of his self for a terrible, workable fit? It...wasn't a good feeling.)

Just—damn. Sam Vimes having to live his whole crapsack life over again, but this time as his disillusioned-reillusioned, unwillingly-character-developed, noir-epic, Duke of Ankh, Commander Sir Samuel Vimes self. 

Younger (Older? He's never felt so Old, His steps so Childlike, reality twisting in his gut like one of Dibbler's pies) Sam Vimes walking around in a haze after the revolution. Desperate to go home, knowing he can’t. Wanting to drink. Knowing he can’t.

The whole precinct feels pity, he really took Keel’s death hard, hardly speaks except to do his job. Eventually he has to grit his teeth and start being present, because what else is there to do?

Resists the urge to drink until Colon takes the whole watch out to celebrate because -he’s going to be a father!

Come on Sammy, one drink won’t kill you— and after the first drink he’s cracking jokes and after the second hes smiling and after the third hes honestly the life of the party and sometime after that he’s crying about how he was going to be a father and my wife would be ashamed if she saw me drinking like this and— 

Oh shit, Did anyone else know he had a wife?? A PREGNANT wife??? What—aren’t you like 12—no you're 17 now aren't you but when did—

You guys n’ver met ’er—oh gods none if you ev’n know ‘er, is jus’ me...

What—when did you lose—

I lost her the same damn day I los’ ev’rythin else, whadya think...bleeding Carcer...the fuckin revolution...

So! That! Sam only vaguely remembers the night, but rumors travel faster than light on the disc, so by the next day the whole damn city knows about poor Sam brung low by the loss of his poor, tragic, pregnant wife, so young to be a widower, and the Seamstresses nod because they already knew, don’t ask them how, somethings you just have to know in that trade.

And his mother—I don’t know, sue me, I’m a time travel fiend but there’s something deeply intriguing about a man meeting his dead parent, who is somewhat younger than him, and stepping into the old relationship like a badly fitting thing that's supposed to fit well. She would know, right? How would she deal with her son’s impossible grief? Maybe she wouldn’t know—he spent most of the time out of the house, running with different street gangs, maybe he avoids her until she dies and lives with the guilt twice over. God, we don’t even know her name. There’s just so much narrative and emotional potential that I don’t even know where to start.

When he’s on duty, which is most time - it’s agonizing because at first he remembers cases, saves lives that would have been lost. But the more time passes, the hazier his memory because in the original timeline he was becoming an alcoholic. Fuck! A kid dies and he could have saved her if he hadn’t been such a drunk, if he had just remembered where the asshole lived, but it’s all a haze, and he wants to drown out his guilt, but that’s what caused this in the first place.

Good young Sammy, who spends his rare off-time in dusty libraries (and yes, the irony that he’s apparently Carrot now is not lost on him) reading gods-only-know.

It’s not like he can ask the wizards for help, cutthroat and vicious as they are now in the not-so-distant-past.

Good young Sam, who...talks to the Broken Drum’s pet Bouncer like he’s a real person and not a dumb rock? That’s a bit weird, but he’s a bit of a funny guy.

Good old Sam, who believed the testimony of the dwarf who said the humans were trying to rob him and let the dwarf go??

the PROBLEMS this man would cause, good grief. Can you imagine a moderately progressive middle aged man with some degree of begrudging diversity and equity training that he did, for all his sins, pay attention to, suddenly going back to like, 1990, going back just 30 years, and going...oh damn this is kind of fucked up, no man you can’t say that, holy shit.

Except Sam’s lived through even more rapidly shifting social moroes! There’s no seamstress guild, there’s no women allowed inside the university, there’s no black ribboner’s society. People hunted trolls for their teeth! But Sam can’t just unlearn everything, and he can’t shut up, and he has no real luck and anyway he would absolutely get himself (temporarily) fired.

FUCK. Sam has no idea what to do with that. None. Zero clue. Wanders around in a haze until that dwarf he saved from police brutality finds him and insists on repaying the debt. No, he insists, do you have any idea what debt means to a dwarf?

“Sort-of?” he replies hesitantly, and that honest admission of incomplete knowledge shows a hell of a lot more respect and understanding than any self proclaimed dwarf-expert ever did.

Gets a job as a surface man, hauling rocks into the city. It’s backbreaking work, but, in true Discworld fashion, it’s also one hell of a workout (again the irony of being Carrot is not lost him. he freezes for a minute while hauling a rock cart, when he remembers he's technically Lost Nobility too, in a strict sense, but someone curses at him in the street and he's comfortingly grounded)

And here is where this au slides into a SPECTACULAR romantic comedy, BEAR WITH ME. Because in his time on the Watch he’s already done noir, action adventure, war story, detective who dunnit, psychological horror, but guards guards only allowed him to be a romance protagonist in an extremely limited context.

Give me righteous, twenty-something-looking, can’t-say-he-doesn’t-have-style, young Sam Vimes, not an alcoholic,  being fed three square meals a day by his dwarven forced found family, hauling rocks. He is startled to find him bumping his head on a low hanging bar that he doesn’t think used to be there, eventually realizing that he’s an inch or two taller than he remembers. Huh. Guess all that bearhuggers really did stunt his growth.

Still doesn’t get what some of the looks from women he’s getting are about, sure, he’s dirty but so is everyone else. Fine, he took his shirt off, but it’s hot out, there’s far wrinklier than him hauling heavy loads, get a life. 

Happens to glance in the Ankh one day when it’s particularly slow and shiny and is startled to realize that he might be turning heads for a different reason. Oh. Right, not that he was ever a heartbreaker, but he did alright for himself... when he was a younger and his face hadn’t been broken so many times. Which...it isn't now.

Is mildly disturbed by the revelation.

Especially once things blow over at the precinct and what with high mortality rates, he ends up with getting hired again. The boys are delighted to have him back, nevermind that he’s an odd one, noone is ever quite in your corner like Vimsey, absence makes the heart fonder, no one else works that hard, and he’s not even competition for promotion. All around great guy, we should set him up with somebody and just, no.

It just keeps getting worse! He’s literate! He’s a feminist! He believes abuse victims! He’s got a tragic backstory! He’s unreasonably good in a fistfight! He’s kind to animals! Word gets around that there’s a good man on the watch and he’s just waiting for a good woman to come snap him up. The widower excuse doesn’t hold people off completely, and for some it’s its own sort-of appeal. 

Things REALLY become stressful after he rescues that carriage full of noblewoman.

What’s he supposed to do? Let them get robbed? Or worse? Chasing down and beating up 10 goons is as easy as beating up one, when they’re that stupid, getting separated like that, drunk and distracted, and he knows these streets better than anyone, really it’s nothing. And oh lord he’s Modest too.

I mean, they were genuinely greatful, as genuine as people like that are capable of being, the skill having grown rusty. And then there is something...magnetic about the man. An air of command.

So, soon enough you get Lady Marigold of Marigrave calling on Treckle Road for that gallant young officer who rescued them, she really needs to thank him. And Viscountess Elanor Thitzferal specifically requesting that he guard her at her next soiree. And Baroness Julieta van Shoeholten insisting that he come to her home while her husband’s away, for... manly protection.

Aaaah just zero sympathy from the guys. None. 'It’s become a competition, they’re just trying to see who can get me into bed first, it’s like I’m a piece of meat, you can’t send me sir, the Marquess greeted me in a nightee last time you made me go to—' and 'small gods Vimes are you even listening to yourself, shut the hell up'.

Simultaneous to this, (again this is several years into the timeline) swamp dragon accessories come into style. Which means abandoned swamp dragons scrounging on the street. Vimes takes one back to his apartment, blows his paycheck on dragon medicine, and eventually, heart in his chest, brings it to the Ramkin estate. The sunshine orphanage doesn’t even exist yet and he’s just standing outside the gates like an idiot, what is he thinking. Turns around, but her carriage is pulling up and—

well. they meet. it's cute. he's never felt so young. he's never felt so old, too old for her, too poor—

and certainly her thoughts linger too long on the awkward, kindly, handsome young commoner, but is it any wonder she doesn't quite connect it to the stern, dangerous, sexy young guard the ladies seem to be in some quiet, cuthroat competition over?

i have this gorgeous, absurd scene in my head in which Vimes is strong armed into standing guard at some high society soiree and one of the pushiest ladies insists he dance with here, or, if he prefers, if he's not confident about his skills, he can dance with her in-private at her home and he’s like [grinding teeth, looking for a way out, seeinf one] “I would be honored to dance with you.”

Steps right into some ultra-complex dance with multiple partner swaps (she never thought he'd pick this one, devilishly intimidating to one not strictly trained, and you barely spend anytime with your first partner).

But he does alright. Better than alright, for a common man, sometimes misstepping but his hands and feet always end up where they need to be. Raises several eyebrows part way into the song because he's throuwing in some slightly scandalous, no innovative, extra lifts and twirls that wouldn't become fashionable for another decade or two. Who even is that guy? Some out of towner? No, no he's in a guards uniform...how very strange.

Gets to Sybll and she's used to embarrassment during these dances, she tries to get out of them when she can... but can't always. Men awkwardly skipping the lifts, or worse, trying and failing. But him — oh it's him, the one who helped little Erold, and looked at her like—like—well like she was someone beautiful. And he's doing it again, and he's strong and there's a quiet moment where she's in the air, they lock eyes, and the rest of the room melts away.

And then the partners change again, the moment ended.

Just...living throught it all again. To the left, a dance he almost knows the steps to, throwing others off balance with erratic moves , honest mistakes, and delibrate stepping on toes. Improvising. Ruining. Improving. Getting far, far too much attention.

Hes almost excited when the first assassains start coming after him. It's like a hobby.

Everyone tells him he should get a hobby.

Interactions with young vetinari...I don't have the energy to write it all down, the slow circling in on each other, both burning with the need to fix the city, save it, their city.

needless to say he ends up fired again, life under real threat after offending some high lord.

Conveniently enough he has an employment opportunity- bodyguard to fucking Vetinari on his 'grand sneer.' The bastard knows vimes isn't what he seems, though sam is pretty sure that he doesnt know the exacts.

Vetinari hypothesis:(the ghost of keel? Keels son, with some hereditary curse? Or a larger spirit of justice possessing a string of unrelated souls? He knows things he shouldn't- mind reader? Fortune teller? Havelock once arranged for a wizard to bump into him on the street, the magical fool gave an odd double look and then muttered something about destiny looping in on itself giving him a headache. Destiny? Lost noble? And hes far too familiar with sybyl, one of the few bearable noblewomen in this city. And his thoughts on guilds, when havelock can trip him into speaking... Most of all, if hes reading him at all correctly (for all the mystery hes not that hard to read, unless thats a very clever cover) then it seems that behind those dark haunted eyes is Respect. Loyalty. For vetinari. What an interesting man. A puzzling asset. An intriguing threat. )

Did I mention the timeline is changing, healing slowly around the place where it was torn? Healing enough around scars to perhaps get some flexibility back, with some painful stretches and...massaging of said scar tissue?

And hes heading to unresting uberwald, a place where a werewolf pack still hunts humans and, truely unrelated but perhaps equally exhausting, an eldritch spirit of vengeance just might be looking to stretch its legs in a hapless vessel?

Opening drabble

#holy fuck #this is AMAZING

[aoitsuru]

"Old Town Square at Night" by Józef Pankiewicz (1892) vs the same place on November 28th 2023 (Warsaw)

[aoitsuru]

Plot twist: the two boys you're choosing between are polyamorous, but they also hate eachother's guts so you still have to pick one

[aoitsuru]

embroidery from peacockandpinecones my friends and I have been losing our minds over all morning.

[aoitsuru]

Chapters: 97/116 Fandom: Megamind (2010) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Megamind/Roxanne Ritchi, Minion & Roxanne Ritchi, Megamind & Minion, Metro Man & Roxanne Ritchi Characters: Roxanne Ritchi, Megamind (Megamind), Minion (Megamind), Metro Man (Megamind), Doom Syndicate Additional Tags: Overlord Megamind, Discworld References, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Fuck you (entertained) to fuck you (fuck you) to fuck you (friends) to fuck you (lovers), The fic where Minion gets to say Fuck, Damsel as a profession, Spidercrab battledroids, Minion is going to get these bipeds together if it kills him, Megamind Has Gills (Megamind 2010), Welcome to the Fuck you (lovers) era, eventual established relationship, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Adrenaline junkie Roxanne Summary:

A story of love, lust and colour coordinated calendars… and how Roxanne Ritchi became the Mistress of Evil

Early chapter update because WE GOT A FUCKING SHOW AND A MOVIE BITCHES!

#megamind #fanfiction #hell yea