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scionshtola · 22 days

Note

from the kiss prompts :> 9. to shut them up 💗

ty azia!! this was a lot of fun to write 😌

kiss prompt 9. to shut them up || Corisande x Y'shtola || 794 words || divider credit

Y’shtola’s childhood bedroom had changed little since she last called Matoya’s cave home. The same books lined the shelves, the same quilt spread across the bed, the same quill and ink sat on the desk. Though the room had obviously been kept free of dust by Matoya’s enchanted brooms, they had seemingly left everything else untouched since her last visit. The only additions were done so by herself: new books stacked in front of the old ones, her notes scattered haphazardly across the desk, and Corisande standing in front of the bookshelves, studying the spines.

They pulled a book from the shelf, idly flipping through its pages before setting it back in its place and pulling another. After a few more books, their soft hum of amusement made Y’shtola’s ears perk in their direction.

“Is there something amiss?” she asked archly, glancing at them from where she was perched at the end of the bed.

“All of your childhood books are quite…academic.” They turned a few more pages in the book they were holding, and Y’shtola could hear the grin in their voice when they added, “‘Tis exactly as I expected.”

She pursed her lips, feigning indignation as they sat cross-legged on the rug, the book held open in their lap. “You were a scholar of the arcane arts in your childhood, were you not? Was your own library not similarly curated?”

“I was hardly so difficult to please as you,” Corisande teased. “My library was not a curated collection so much as a hoard of every book I could get my hands on. At least, as many as we had room for.”

Corisande tilted her head back, looking up at the shelves that stretched high along the wall. “Though I would have loved to have a collection such as this—mayhap with a few adventurer novels thrown in the mix.”

A soft ache thrummed quietly in Y’shtola’s chest for that younger Corisande. She remembered the way Corisande had devoured each book she’d recommended to them from the library at the Waking Sands. After so many years spent teaching themself all they could about arcanum, they had been so eager to discuss their readings with Y’shtola and Urianger, both of whom happily obliged.

Y’shtola may not have had peers her own age, but she had always had Matoya to learn from. She always had the cave to which she could return.

She rose from the bed and knelt next to Corisande, her shoulder brushing theirs. “Had we known each other then, I would have been only too pleased to share my library with you.”

Corisande turned her head in Y’shtola’s direction, a soft smile gracing her lips. She started to lean in, her fingers twining with Y’shtola’s, but at the last moment she veered sharply to the right. Y’shtola pulled back, watching as she stretched across the floor and reached her hand under the bed.

Y’shtola’s stomach dropped—how could she have forgotten? But it was too late to stop Corisande now.

“What is this we have here?” Corisande said, rising back into a sitting position. She held aloft a plush creature, exhumed from its tomb beneath Y’shtola’s bed. “Evidence that a child once resided in this room after all?”

“‘Tis only a plush paissa,” Y’shtola muttered. She could not make out the features well, but she recognized the malleable roundness between Corisande’s hands. “A poro roggo brought him to the cave for me when I was young.”

“Does he have a name?” Corisande asked, a gentle fondness in her tone that softened the teasing.

“No,” Y’shtola said pointedly, ignoring the growing warmth in her cheeks. “He does not.”

Corisande’s smile only grew wider. “Shall I guess then? Given your history of creative spellwriting, I imagine ‘tis something special. Let’s see…mayhap—”

Before Corisande could finish her sentence, Y’shtola leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. Corisande leaned closer, her smile giving way to parted lips for a brief moment before she pulled back, evidently undeterred.

“No guessing then. Mayhap the poro roggo will tell me.” She fell silent as Y’shtola kissed her again, but pulled back to add, in a tone far too delighted for Y’shtola’s liking, “Or mayhap I ought to ask Master Matoya herself.”

“I assure you Matoya is not inclined to such conversations.” Y’shtola slipped her fingers into Corisande’s hair, tilting their head back as she leaned over them. She kissed them again, deeper this time, until she felt one of their hands find purchase on her waist. “Nor would she be so kind as I in her discouragement of the subject.”

Corisande laughed against her lips, and settled her other hand on Y'shtola's waist as well. Y’shtola, pleased by the acquiescence, set about ensuring the subject would not rise again.

#kels writes #i only read this through once but i think its fun. feel like the end got to be a bit much but alkdfjsad #there's a bit in the middle i could have expanded on but instead i made cori change course but i hope it doesnt feel too forced???#they will talk about it later. i promise.#have you seen the art piece on tumblr called i want you to quiet down.#just kidding. maybe. just kidding.#alsdkfsd #xiv fic #corishtola fic #oc: corisande ymir #corishtola

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lennysfridge · 6 months

Note

yes please😌

part three

there will be another, obvi

but i’ll probably pause for a bit and eat, maybe curl my hair

ALSO format is a little different- i ahev it on my phone to not capitalize (for many reasons), but my computer does, so she looks a little proper

anyway

when aryne had finally gained her bearings in the back of the ambulance, she yanked her phone out, thinking about how in the hell she was supposed to simply text matthew and john that something had happened to bear. so, in an effort to save herself the headache of typing out a heartbreaking message like the one she was conjuring in her head, she checked the game, in hopes that it had possibly ended, but to her misfortune, the game had gone into overtime. quickly deciding that a text message wouldn’t be enough, she settled for leaving a voicemail.

Back at Scotiabank…

Maybe 10 minutes later, the Toronto Maple Leafs come bursting in to their locker room, having won in OT against the Tampa Bay Lightning. Matthew quickly recieved the belt for his gray game,, posed for it, and then quickly darted for his phone for his usually congratulations text from bear when they won. Only this time, there was nothing- his phone was… blank?

In a similar situation across the locker room, John dug for his phone, expecting to see the usual plethora of pictures of the kids excitedly watching the game, only to come face to face with a “Aryne left a voicemail” notification. Cautiously, John clicked on the notification, unsure of what his wife would’ve left him a message for, knowing she usually would send a text for him to read after the game, had something occurred. So for her to leave a voicemail- well it was strange, and filled him with questions.

The second he hit play, he’s met with his wife’s heavy voice, “Johnny, I’m going to need you to grab Matthew to listen to this with him too,” the voicemail started out, sending a wave of fear down his spine. “Did something happen with bear’s shoulder,” he wonders internally, not knowing just how right, and just how wrong he’d be. He quickly pauses the voicemail, before hurriedly making his way to Matthew, phone gripped tightly in his hand. He grips Matthew by the shoulder, to make him meet his eyes. “I don’t know what happened, but Aryne left a voicemail, and the first sentence was that I needed to grab you to listen to this too,” he says to the younger male, making Matthew instantly send him questioning glances. “Just- listen with me, okay,” John says in the tone that only fathers possess. John presses play, both males attentions on the box in John’s hand- the box that was about to ruin their moods. “Alright,” aryne says as she lets out a sigh, seemingly trying to gather enough words to verbalize whatever seemed to have occurred.

“Im in the back of an ambulance right now- but it’s not me, it’s Bear,” she says, instantly making John and Matthew’s heads turn towards each other in worry. Concernedly, their attention goes back to the phone as Aryne continues, “I came back to the suite after second intermission and she was passed out cold,” aryne pauses, the news falling over the two men like a bucket of cold water, and also gaining the attention of nearby Mitch Marner and Joseph Woll, their attentions now fixed on the phone being gripped like a lifeline in John’s hand.“John, they think it was her new medication. I guess since I picked it up, she thought I’d tell her if she could drink while on it, and drank.” Aryne pauses, her words hitting John and Matthew like a bags of bricks, and stunning the additional crowd the voicemail has gathered. Tears quickly began accumulating in the Knies boy’s eyes, lips pursing together in an attempt to stop the sobs from falling out. The voicemail continues on, “God John- I don’t ever want to see her like that again. I know I said the same thing when she went down with her shoulder, but god Johnny- she looked lifeless,” the Tavares woman’s voice cracks out, her cracky voice effectively cracking the wall Matthew had built in the short time listening to the message, as his shoulders started to shake with pent up sobs. John clasped his shoulder, the two men’s eyes meeting in understanding. The crowd gathered around them all had various emotions portrayed on their faces, but the most common was the worry they all had for the oldest Tavares. As the message continues, the crowd listening to the message is suddenly met with noises many are familiar with. Baby babbles. It was as if bug could understand the things her mom was saying, as she started making a few distressed noises. “Its okay bug, sissy’s gonna be fine. Everything’s fine,” Aryne’s voice soothes, although lacking the confidence many were familiar with her having. The strong mother carries on,“I left the boys at the arena with Steph. I couldn’t bare to bring them with me, and have them see her like this. Hell, I’m almost glad neither of you were there- that’s the last image I’d ever want Matthew to have of her, and defiantly not something I’d wish for you to see if I can help it.” And as if her words make her remember her requested presence of the slowly breaking boy, she starts again, “Matthew, don’t you dare feel like any of this was your fault. I know you usually read out her meds for her to take to her, and that you’re probably thinking about how you could’ve changed things- we can’t change it now Matt. I felt like I could’ve prevented it too, so please don’t put that on your shoulders sweet boy. She loves you, and that’s the last thing she’d want for you to put on yourself,” she concludes, before the sounds of the doors lf the ambulance opening are heard in the background. “We just got to the hospital. I’ll update you if and when things change. We’re at the one about 4 miles from the stadium. If you guys decide to come, and I know y’all will, please drop the boys off. They don’t need to see her like this so soon after her surgery. I love you both so much- and congratulations on the goal in the first Matt, we were all cheering.” Aryne’s message ends.

And as the voicemail makes the usual noise to alert you it’s over, that seems to be the cue for Matthew’s body to fall back into his locker, face dropping into his hands, sobs racking his body. John stares blankly at the wall in shock, slowly processing everything his wife said. Teammates nearby sat stunned, unsure of where to go from there after hearing aryne’s voice retell what happened. Mitch and Joseph, soldiering through their shock, each went towards one of the emotional males. Mitch took John, shaking the man out of his trance, before calmly talking him through what John needed to do before he left for the hospital, and what the assistant captains could help with for morning skate the following morning- an event everyone seemingly agreed that neither would be expected to show for.

Meanwhile Jospeh made his way to the sobbing boy, shaking him lightly by the shoulders. At the movement, matt’s head raised, his eyes having been transformed into endless rivers of tears. As soon as Joseph took in the state of the boy, Jospeh lightly tugged Matthew upright, bring him into a hug, his hand rising to Kniesy’s shoulders to rub at them soothingly.

After a few moments pass, John gains his bearings, quickly changing into his suit, and gesturing at Woll to help Matthew do the same. Once Matthew made it into his suit, and threw the rest of his things in his bag, he quickly made his way towards John. When he made it next to John, the man brought on of his hands to the boys shoulders reassuringly, tearful eyes meeting tearful eyes.

“We have to go grab the boys, run them home, and then we’re going to our girl Knies.” At the older man’s words, he froze, breathing rapidly picking up pace, eyes fogging in worry. “But what if she-“ he nervously starts rambling, his oxygen supply seemingly being sapped from his lungs.

A voice comes up from behind Matthew, a familiar blondes voice, “I can run him by the hospital,” Mitch speaks, meeting John’s eyes. The the blonde man thinks for a moment, “hell- me and Steph can run them home so you both can get there faster,” Mitch questions, offering hanging in the air. John pauses for a moment, thinks, and then lets out a relieved sigh. “… Could you really?” He lets out, his eagerness to accept the offer being immediately understood. “Yes- and yes, we can still do their nighttime routine… well at least Steph can,” the blonde states, tension leaving John and Matthews shoulders. Once again, in the smallest bit of deja vu, John raises his hand to pat at Matthews shoulder reassuringly, tearful eyes looking. “Let’s go see our girl.” The Tavares man states, making him and Matthew throw a hand up in a wave was they swiftly leave Scotiabank, headed for the hospital to be faced with a sight neither of them wanted to see again- Barrett Tavares in a hospital bed.

part 4 soon (tonight or tomorrow)

IM GONNA THROW UP

IM SOBBING

OMG

#🫂anon #barrett x knies

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delopsia · 8 months

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the haunted house drabble was such a fucking gift to return to 💐 that it got my mind wheels whirring: the trio’s halloween costumes...

are they trying to find a cohesive throuple idea? and if so, is it a funny idea? like, as long as the three of them are entertained it’s fine—or are they shooting for serious, like, “no! we ARE winning the costume contest at payback and fanboy’s halloween party this year!”

or do they wear individual costumes? especially rhett who might not have done a lot as far as dressing up past the age of twelve, but is actually really good at successfully making homemade costumes?

and are they giving out candy? do they wear cozy seasonal loungewear and compliment all the children’s costumes, or do they leave a full mixed candy bowl out on the porch, knowing full well that a number of these kids are NOT going to take just one (!) but it’s halloween so who cares 😌🎃👻

Omg, I have been dying to find the chance to answer this 😭🎃

Bob, again, is the instigator for the Halloween costumes, but this time, it wasn't exactly his idea! He simply got caught up in the crossfire when Maverick was bickering with Reuben and Mickey about how Halloween parties are lame, and the next thing Bob knows, he's been invited to the yearly party against his will.

So what do you do when you've been invited against your will? You drag your two partners along with you! He tries sugarcoating it, says he already has some costume ideas, aaand...well...

"I ain't dressin' up as a goddamn condiment!"

"What, you think you have a better idea?" And maybe Bob's words were a little too snappy because Rhett looks like he's about to eat him alive.

Neither Reader nor Bob expects for Rhett to bark a, "Yeah, I do, actually!" Before vanishing up to the attic, wrapped up in his own little storm cloud, grumbling under his breath about how he hates store-bought costumes.

Come to find out, when Rhett was 19, he and his buddy Archie got together and crafted Ghost Buster's costumes for Wabang's yearly Halloween Costume contest. All because they'd gotten sick and tired of seeing Billy and Luke Tillerson win every damn year. Rhett's still got the cheap blue first-place ribbon, pinned on his old suit.

The costumes are elaborate, with properly sewn patches, purposeful wear and tear, and hand-built gear that genuinely looks useable. It's dusty. The suits need a good wash, and that still leaves one person without a costume, but it's better than store-bought.

Only for it to become glaringly obvious that Rhett is much bigger than his 19-year-old self. Not in height and weight but in muscle. Reader and Bob fit into the suits just fine, but Rhett? His shoulders have gotten broader, and his biceps are so thick that the seam on the sleeve busts open.

"I ain't that big!"

"Yes, you are!"

And maybe that's the reason why Rhett gets turned into a dead cowboy. Because what's a ghostbuster without a ghost?

Rhett's entire outfit is black and gray, complete with a torn cowboy hat, deliberately ripped shirt and jeans, beaten-to-hell chaps, and spurs that chime with every step he takes. He's missing part of his left sleeve (he accidentally busted another seam), flannel only buttoned halfway, and Bob's meticulously painted his skin to create the appearance of a skeleton.

There's a last-minute addition of fangs and a singular, white contact because, in the Reader's words, Rhett's eyes were far too sweet and made him look friendly rather than scary.

The party is massive.

Leave it to Mickey to pull some strings and get a damn venue in San Diego for the party when it very well could have been held in his Aunt's backyard again. There are so many people that Bob can't find his friends for a full half hour, and Rhett's actively about to crawl out of his skin if another person stops him for a picture. Half of these people aren't even dressed up!

Natasha is the biggest competition. She's rebuilt her phoenix costume from two years ago, and this time, she has not held back. Has even gone as far as to make proper wings, feathers, and all.

And she would have won, too, if Reuben, the toughest costume judge in the damn city, didn't dock her points for reusing the same theme. Leaving Bob, Reader and Rhett to switch places with her, snatching first place by a hair.

Rhett doesn't take it as a win and is now actively drawing plans for a quote, "costume that don't need no damn luck to win."

With all of the competitiveness, it's a given that the Floytt household is elaborately decorated for Halloween, but not in the way that you'd think.

Bob and Rhett, to the Reader's amusement, are in a silent war with the dad down the street, in trying to create the spookiest house on the street. Cobwebs on the porch and boarded-up windows, a big ghost on the garage, and a damn spider that jumps out at your feet as you walk by.

Oh, and fog machines galore.

All of that effort, and...nobody ever sits outside to hand out candy. Whoever gets home first fills the candy bowl, sets it outside, and settles down with the other two for a cozy night of scary movies. It's all comfy loungewear, soft blankets, and cuddling on the oversized couch, occasionally checking the doorbell camera to watch kids get spooked by the spider.

They did sit outside for the first Halloween spent in the new house. For less than a half hour before Rhett started shivering, and Bobby fell asleep on the porch swing.

Let it be known that Bob's favorite Halloween candy is candy corn, and Rhett actively throws said candy corn at his head. The Reader sometimes gets caught in the crossfire, and it always ends in candy corn being found months later in places it shouldn't be.

#rhett abbott #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader x rhett abbott #💐#hawthorn au #rhett abbott headcanons #robert bob floyd headcanons #tw: food #milesmillergf #delgato's asks

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gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun · 6 months

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wait now we have to see the repo! jacket :0 if you’re willing to post pics!!

Absolutely!!!!! It’s not done yet but it’s my baby so I’m always happy to share. I got this actual leather(!!!) jacket from Goodwill - it was priced at $15 and was half off, and I still can’t believe I got that much of a deal on a jacket in perfect condition. I’ve been using paint pens to decorate it, as well as adding chains across the back and skeleton beads I bought. I’ll share the most exciting upcoming addition at the end, but for now, base pictures:

Main pics, just for the vibes~

Collar area decorations~

My right sleeve feat. lyrics from Infected~

(This sleeve literally made my mother cry because she thinks being alternative = being troubled and full of suffering and darkness. Also because I used the word bitch.)

Sleeves~

(I sewed lace onto the cuffs and it’s really cute. Also my left sleeve says #DisownTerrance, because while I love Repo! very much, Terrance Zdunich is not a person I wish to support - so I’m disowning him and stealing his opera 😌)

My absolute favorite part~

(I love these little buggers. My smol paint pen was dying so I only have these two for now, but I want to get another pen and do them around the whole hem cause they’re just so adorable and silly)

Now, onto what I will be doing next:

Adding some little. Glass. Vials.

I knew I wanted vials of Zydrate on the back of my jacket, but I wasn’t sure how to get something blue that would stay liquid. My solution was genius, if I may say so. I bought some cheap little vials and used a syringe to fill them with a combination of mostly-clear vegetable oil and various-shades-of-blue eyeshadow that I mixed in a Little Glass Bowl. The resulting color isn’t as clear or as electric as I would like, but it is very sparkly and I appreciate that. The slightly different colors also swirl around in pretty ways, and when left unshaken for very long the eyeshadow settles and does leave it looking like clear blueish liquid. All it takes to re-mix it is a good shaking, and it’s as beautiful as ever.

I haven’t put them on my jacket yet since I haven’t glued the lids shut, but I’ll be hanging them from the chain on the back.

The vials in question~

Things I don’t have pictures of but am considering adding to my jacket:

a couple discs from the vertebrae of a deer skeleton I found in the woods

a molar that probably came from an elk? I found it in my driveway

a visalign type retainer thing I found on the ground and am painting to just look like a set of teeth

Anyway, that’s the longwinded tour of my goth/Repo! jacket, thank you for listening <3

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kelliealtogether · 6 months

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I'm a data nerd, so this will probably not be interesting to anyone else, but I've been tracking some stats on What It All Could Be and doing analyses because I'm a loser with nothing else to do with my time.

*This is data analysis for my own pleasure. It's not in any way meant to boast, induce guilt, etc. I like doing this stuff because I find it interesting (and it's the part of my big girl job that makes me want to tear my hair out the least).

Chaptered fics are a long game. I think every fanfic writer knows, anecdotally, that with each chapter posted, hits go up a lot and kudos go up a little.

Here's something less anecdotal:

I captured current hits and kudos each time I updated What It All Could Be. As one can see, both increased chapter-over-chapter, but the hits rise at a far greater magnitude than kudos. This is understandable; as a logged-in user on AO3, you can only leave one kudo per fic. I'll touch on kudos more in a bit.

As far as hits per chapter, there's been a relatively steady-ish increase over time. Personally (and this is me pulling it out of my ass), I feel like readers may not click on a chaptered fic if they don't have evidence it will be updated regularly, or even at all. I get that. That's understandable. But you can see here that the "ball gets rolling", and the trendline for hits per chapter goes up, even though hits may not always be even/consistent.

*I've been updating on a six-day schedule, and Chapter 5 was a few days delayed because I posted Love, Comma, Ronan, so I chalk up the increased hits on Chapter 5 to the additional days between updates. Taking it as an outlier, the trendline still goes up.

Now for kudos.

Kudos, kudos, kudos...

It's almost the inverse of hits per chapter. The friendly trendline goes down, and this is expected. If they're logged in, a reader hits the kudos button once on Chapter 1, and then AO3 gives them a friendly reminder that they've already left kudos on every subsequent chapter.

And then there's guest kudos! Guest kudos always make me wonder how many "unique" kudos are present, not someone logging out to leave a kudo, or a reader without an AO3 account hitting kudos multiple times. (Don't get me wrong, I appreciate every single kudo I receive. I just find it interesting to contemplate how many kudos have the same individual behind them.)

As of the writing of this post, What It All Could Be has 267 kudos. 115 of those kudos are guest kudos, the other 152 are from users with AO3 accounts. This is actually a higher guest-to-user kudos ratio than I expected. Based on (anecdotal) review of stats on my other fics, I thought guest kudos would be closer to a third of the total kudos, but what do I know? 🤷‍♀️

Anyway, I had fun doing this, and I'll keep tracking this nonsense for the rest of the fic. I've got some other analyses in mind too, but figured I'd get a jump on doing nerdy stuff since I'm halfway through posting. 😌

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spottyissleepwalking · 1 year

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Ooo can I see your design for yellowfang or her son brokenstar? I have been thinking about them a lot lately

Ol’ Yellerfang my beloved <3

Design notes:

Massive, but only horizontally. Incredibly thickset, a tank, a brick wall, but also Very short.

Four scars across her face, two scars across the left side of her chest, two scars across her left foreleg, one split scar across her right hind leg. Left ear is entirely shredded sans the very top part + the ear tufts, and the right ear sports two large nicks.

Thick-furred, somewhat fluffy, but definitely ragged; she has a lot of fur, and not a lot of free time to try and manage it. (Cinderpelt and Fireheart sometimes tie up the excess fur on the top of her head and below her jaw so they don’t get in the way of her eyes and mouth 😌)

Dark smoke tortoiseshell colorpoint!!! :D

Lower jaw protrudes pretty significantly, exposing long lower canines.

LGBT+ headcanon: Cis lesbian (she/they)! I like to think that Ragged was an extreme case of comphet, with additional spice because, in the beginning, he made her feel desired and Yellow liked that.

[Image ID: A digital drawing of Yellowfang, sitting upright with her body mostly facing the camera, her head tilted somewhat left and her eyes at the camera; the entire image is outlined in white. She is a stocky, thick-set, muscular, ragged-furred, fluffy, very dark gray cat with a paler mane, and darker point markings at her face, legs, ears and tail; she is heavily scarred, most prominently across her face, chest, and legs; she has striking, pale orange marbled tabby tortoiseshell markings at her face, ears, tail, and right hind paw. There are little dark green leaves and distinctive, bright yellow petals scattered throughout her messy fur, and the thick fur beneath her chin is tied up like a beard; her tail is very large and fluffy, and tipped with tortoiseshell marks. At her paws is her extensive color palette, and above her tail is the word “YELLOWFANG” written in white, all-caps. Across her left side is the stylized artist signature of “spottyissleepwalking” written in faded lavender. / End ID.]

#warrior cats #warriors #warriors design #warriors designs #warrior cats design #warrior cats designs #yellowfang #yellowfangs secret #into the wild #medicine cat #thunderclan #shadowclan #starclan #spotty’s designs

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steamberrystudio · 2 years

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02/09/2022 Devlog

Hello everyone!

Just popping in with an update on Quill's route since it's been a while since I updated here!

Summary:

All sprite expressions coded in

SFX and music are coded in

Backgrounds have been prepped and coded in

Flowchart images completed

Flowcharts coded into the game

5.5 out of 8 CGs complete

Most sprites complete (just a few "Bobs" left )

About 85% done with this route

The Ramble:

I've done a lot of work since my last post.

Last time I had scripted the route and staged the sprite positions, entrances, and exits. I was getting ready to prep Quill's additional BGs and put them in the game. I also hadn't finished or coded in most of the major supporting characters yet at that point either.

As of now the BGs are coded in. The major supporting characters are all complete and coded - Locke, Vale, Neel, Aritz, and Vic.

The sprite expressions are fully coded with the exception of the "extras" and one very minor character (who appears in a single scene). I still have to complete these sprites but have just been working on other things.

I'll get to them eventually.

I've completed the flowchart images and have coded the flowcharts. I did a preliminary round of testing to make sure things were unlocking, but this obviously has to be tested in more detail by the beta testers.

I've been spending the last few weeks working on CGs for Quill's route. I have 4 out of 8 CGs completed and coded. I have an additional CG completed but not coded yet (this is a 2 part CG so coding it is a little extra work since it's technically two CGs). I have 1 CG in progress (another 2 part CG) and 2 CGs that remain to be done.

So Quill's CGs are over half done. The two I haven't started yet are ending CGs and should be fairly simple. The one I'm working on now is the last of the complex CGs.

I've been taking my time with the art as I don't really want a repeat of hurting my hand as badly as I did when finishing the full game. So I'm being really careful to take extended breaks when I can start feeling the strain. Also, the reality is that while I focus a lot on my hand these days because I can sort of see it deteriorating before my eyes, I really can feel the strain in my shoulders and right arm too, so I'm just really trying to take care of myself better so I can keep making games for a long time.

During breaks I've been editing Reuben's synopsis and his first chapter. Also edited Yuu's first chapter and have been going through his synopsis as well to spruce it up.

Sneak Peeks and Previews:

Upcoming Weeks:

So in the upcoming weeks I will be trying to finish up the sprite art and remaining CGs. And then we'll be in beta testing mode for a while. All the routes need extensive testing to check that the CGs are unlocking properly, to check that the flowchart is unlocking properly, that the endings unlock properly, that none of the sprites are broken or randomly get naked. 😌

It's a big game with a lot of hidden little variations and multiple rounds of testing are required to ensure that we don't miss things (and we inevitably miss things anyway.

Even after the route is 'complete', I do expect that beta testing will last for a while - not just one or two weeks. Regardless, Quill's route is rounding that last bend and Reuben's route is still slated to be the next one I complete and release.

That's it! Everything is still on track and work is still being completed at a steady pace.

#gilded shadows #updates #devlog #quill

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mintycurry · 1 year

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My personal favourites from the Café Magazine shoot 🤧💫

(feat. me gushing abt them, from left-to-right)

Lemme tell you how much I love him in a black blazer/suit/tux/whatever. I love my favs in all-black outfits and, honestly, this picture will be in my mind for the rest of the week. His pose is a simple "leaning on the door", but the angles & overall look are really working for me. The neck scarf is also a really good addition and makes the look pop in my eyes. but I just have a thing for people in neck accessories, tbf

This reminds me of the blue sweater from the XMAG shoot, but better? I don't know why I love this look so much, but I think it may be the overall "blue" (the background and his sweater) making him look so soft also his pants has blue stains, what an odd design

THE COVER. This look deserves extra points just because of the flower buttons. Also, the necklace makes me feral looks like the closest we'll get to Omar in body jewellery (for now), so I'll take it!

The see-through pants look like a part of a fashionable raincoat set, but it oddly fits, and his cardigan is cute. What's up with the orange sneakers tho? Omar & his random bursts of color haha

I also love all the other pictures, but these took the cake for me 😌

#HELLO I feel insane #sverige's bäst klädda man #so true #I can't look away #he looks too good #omar's lewks #omar rudberg #I finally figured out how to do the 'keep reading' thx #I'm new to tumblr sorry #took me a Google search to figure it out #I thought it was automatic 💀

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ao3feed-peterstiles · 1 year

Text

Rotting Ichor and Dimming Sparks

Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/44119023

by IStillPlayWithLegos

When Stiles is ten, he becomes intimately acquainted with the rancid taste of death.

One moment his mother is screaming obscenities at him. Blaming him for her madness and for the voices she hears. For being the reason she was cast out and forsaken. She is a madwoman with no recognition that it is her only son who sits with his arms around his knees, huddled in a corner and looking years younger than his age while frightened tears stream down his face.

One moment, she is rage personified. The next, she is still—Looking at Stiles with an unfamiliar, calculating gaze, murmuring words in a language he distantly recognizes but does not yet speak.

The last words Claudia Stilinski’s mouth (because, make no mistake, whatever was speaking was not Claudia Stilinski ) ever forms are said with a grating voice that seems to ring in the cramped hospital room. Its head cocks to the left, and there’s an unearthly glimmer in the otherwise empty void of those now pitch-black eyes. They seem to bore into Stiles’ very soul.

Don't worry. You'll hear them soon too, Mieczyslaw. You're one of mine, my darling.

Words: 4556, Chapters: 1/3, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of Reaper!Stiles

Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: M/M

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski, Peter Hale, Talia Hale, Claudia Stilinski, Original Hale Character(s), Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Derek Hale, Gerard Argent, Kate Argent

Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Additional Tags: Insanity, Murder, Arson, Self-Mutilation, Deaf Stiles Stilinski, Original Character(s), Hale Family Feels, Talking To Dead People, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Graphic Description of Burns/Wounds, Body Horror, The Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Heavy Angst, Blood and Gore, Child Death, Mercy Killing, Canonical Character Death, Major Character Undeath, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crack Treated Seriously, aggressive flirting, Peter Hale is the pack spaceheater I don't make the rules, Run-On Sentences, It's a stylistic choice fuck you Mrs. Walker I'll write how I wanna write, Warning: Gerard Argent, Warning: Kate Argent, They're both really fucking bad here (but don't worry they're die screaming 😌), ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder), ADHD, AO3 why won't you let me tag in order ;-;

Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/44119023

#ao3feed #teen wolf #steter #fanfic #peterstiles

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skepticalarrie · 2 years

Note

Allie!! I’ve been to the Haunted Museum in Vegas! Not to be all ✨I’m an empath✨ but the vibes in there are INTENSE. 😩😩😩 It gave me such much anxiety I couldn’t sleep that night after we got back to the hotel and my friend/coworker had a terrible headache that didn’t go away until we got out of the actual building itself. 😅

Quick story! I was in Vegas for a work conference (and JLO’s residency was sold out) so we decided to check it out for fun. The Uber driver asked kindly if they could just drop us off across the street because they didn’t want to pull into the parking lot of the actual museum. They said they’d heard a lot of spooky things about it and it always made them uncomfortable when they had to drop off passengers, especially at night 💀 We thought it was part of the fun so we said sure. Then once inside, I had a weird experience at the end of the tour. They have a room decorated like the cabin of a boat that has memorabilia of Natalie Wood. I don’t know if you know her story but she went missing while sailing with her husband and Christopher Walken. Her body was found, the most likely explanation being she fell overboard and drowned but people suspect foul play. While in the room with our tour group, I started to feel like I was swaying. Like when you’re on the deck of a boat, you know? It went away when we left the room but it was such a bizarre feeling. I mentioned to my coworker that it was a cool addition to make the floor move and she said she didn’t know what I was talking about. 💀💀So I went to the tour guide to confirm and she said “no, we don’t have any additional effects in that room but a lot do people say they feel that sensation.” 💀💀💀💀💀 It was fun in the sense that I love spooky things so we were able to laugh about it the next day. But they also have a lot of artifacts from actual serial killers so the energy in some rooms was VERY heavy and upsetting. I only felt comfortable in one room that had a couple costume pieces that belonged to Robin Williams and Heath Ledger. It was definitely an experience and I recommend it if you are really interested in true crime and the paranormal. But I always caution people to look up reviews too if you happen to be sensitive to darker topics. That said, the staff was amazing and checked in on everyone regularly to make sure we were good since it’s about an hour tour in total.

Oh my god, M 🫠🫠🫠 Since that anon mentioned the haunted museum earlier I’ve been watching some videos and I couldn’t be more freaked out about it. Your story was just the cherry on top, that’s absolutely terrifying 😩 I love it 😌 lol but seriously if that was me I would have walked out immediately!! That’s insane, thank you so much for sharing it! I’m glad you at least enjoyed some aspects of it.

I was watching this video where they show a rocking chair that is apparently cursed or something and it gives people really bad back pain, and the guy on the video started having back pain immediately just for standing next to the chair. (Although Zak Bagans kept telling him it was because he mocked the chair, so he was screaming YOU MOCKED THE CHAIR nonstop - anyway, absolutely great and chaotic video 10/10). So it seems like a lot of people feel actual physical discomfort like you did. Fuck, I live by myself and I should actually be sleeping by now, I think I will have some issues with that. Help💀

#ask

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chelleztjs18 · 1 year

Note

Hello you 😌

You writers are something else. It's amazing how ideas and words just flow in your head. I wish I had that. I have the imagination and all but I can't put it into words 😅

How many times do you reread your stuff and know when to post it? Like how do you know that it's a good piece and it's ready for the world to see?

Hahaha I only do it to break the ice. Cause I never know how to approach someone just normally, I'm awkward in person so when I meet someone I just try to say something corny or funny.

I am right handed. Fun fact, apparently when I was younger I was left handed but my mom "forced" me to write with my right hand. How about you?

Do you think love at first sight is a thing?

- CuriousGeorge

Hi hi! The healthy eyebag. lol.

aw thank you so much! I appreciate it so much! Oh sometimes the idea can flows well sometimes they dont.

Someday I can have the will to write but then no idea. Sometimes I have the idea but not in the mood to write. lol.

Mostly I got my ideas or imaginations from music and I usually got it when I was taking a shower because I always plays my music when I do so. Sometimes I got new plot of stories or just simple additional ideas for the request that I got and grows the plot. Sometimes I got the idea from my writer friends that helps me brainstorming.

I alwyas lost count how many I re-read my work until I post it. Even though i re-read it many times, there's still some errors i find after I post it. lol.

I always make sure no typo, n tried my best to write gramatically correct. that's why it takes extra time for me until i post it. Plus, I always try to find gif or picture that match with story. If i cant find it, sometimes I make my own picture edit or something like a cover or header (espcially if it's a multichapters or mini series)

plus deciding the title, it can be easy to find it can be hard to find. lol. even though i have fun when it's time to pick the title.

haha i think we r kinda similar but u hv more confidence in u. lol. well, not all eyebags are the same with the other, right? hahahahaha.

OMG! I swear i said OMG out loud when I read the part about ur funfact on left handed or right handed. because it HAPPENED to me!!! hahaha. I was born left handed, i remember when i was a kid, I always do stuff with my left hand, eating, playing, holding things or taking things, even writing but since in indonesia culture is considered impolite to do things with left handed (because it's the hand most people do to clean up their body after potty) so my mom "forced" me to write n do things with right handed. Now i'm right handed but not really. it's so funny that it happened to us. Was ur mom's reason teach u right handed because of that culture things?

I can say that I'm ambidextrous now. I used both hands daily but my natural dominant hand is left. but also right handed because i was taught right handed. so some daily things like cutting with knife or scissors, i use right hand. some daily things are right handed. but mostly I use left hand.

when I eat sometimes I swtch between two hands. I write with both hands but my left doesnt do as good or as fast as my right.

That's why my bow is left handed. I shoot guns left handed, i hit baseball with left hand. I can throw with both hands. its fun but i love it if i end up become a lefty. lol

fun fact, i noticed that my daughter is ambidextrous. hahahahaha. i guess she copies me but her left hand is more dominant.

yes, i believed in love at first sight. because it happened to me twice. to my ex gf and my husband. lol. what about u?

Cheerio!

#chellez answers #ask answered #anon answered #curious george anon

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formulakay · 3 years

Note

hey kayla 💞you could do a drabble on Toto that he and Y / N are married and she is pregnant and it's a race weekend and she has to go despite the baby sees it but she hides me with the Toto's white sweatshirt and for the lunch pose she joins Toto and Lewis and without doing it on purpose at the sight of anyone she lifts the sweatshirt to stroke her stomach and Lewis and shock to know that she is pregnant because no one was aware of it yet. of course if you can my beautiful kisssss 😊💞

hi anon! i know this is WAY overdue, but this request was too adorable to pass up!

i hope it's okay that i wrote it this way, but for anyone that wanted a glimpse at what post-part 5 Texts With Toto could be, here you go 😌

i can't do short, i can't do angst, so what you get is 1650 words of disgustingly sweet fluff. enjoy! (also - not edited, sorry)

*quick edit: for more of my writing, go check out @formulanaughty 😚 (18+ please!)

Surprise!

Toto Wolff x reader, rated: G (general), length: 1657 words, warnings: reader pregnancy (descriptions of baby moving, etc)

"Schatzi, you don’t have to go.” His reminder was the fourth of the morning. The summer break was supposed to have been the start of your long-term maternity leave but you found yourself desperate for some normalcy and familiar faces before your lives changed completely once again in just a few months.

"Toto, I want to go. I miss everyone, and this could likely be the last time I’m in the paddock before word gets out that there’s going to be another Wolff added to the pack. It's Wednesday, there probably won't be that much media anyways, so I’ll be fine."

Later, after you've arrived at the track and have settled in Toto's office, you grab your bag and kiss Toto quickly. "I'm going to get a quick walk in, but I might get stuck talking to folks."

"You're welcome to join Lewis and I for lunch if you'd like. I'll text you when. Be careful."

You don't get far before you're greeted by a member of the Mercedes team. You glance down, worried that the outfit you had chosen doesn't conceal your bump, but the flowing fabric disguises it as best you can at this stage in your pregnancy. You pause in the paddock to carry on the conversation, welcoming the usual bustle and chaos that precedes a race weekend. Three weeks off had been wonderful to spend at home, nesting and preparing the nursery for your new addition, but you had missed this part of your life immensely.

Eventually, you find yourself wandering back towards the Mercedes' hospitality trailer, cranky with hunger. Your phone vibrates with a text from Toto, stating that he and Lewis are on their way over for lunch. Knowing that they will likely get caught up talking to the team, you head to the coffee counter.

"Look what the cat dragged in! I thought you were taking some time off after the break?"

George's voice behind you makes you jump and you laugh at his teasing. You turn, carafe of coffee still in your hand. "George! I am, I mean, I will, I just missed you too much, I had to come back and see you before I left."

He pulls you into a quick one-armed hug before smiling down at you. "How've you been? Feeling okay?"

Your free hand brushes your stomach and you drop it to your side quickly before muscle memory makes you rest it on your small bump. "I've been good! Great, actually - what makes you ask?"

He nods to the carafe in your hand. "You never drink decaf."

"Oh! Yep, feeling fine. I'm already too keyed up being back in the paddock, I just don't need the caffeine adding to that. How was your break?"

George steps beside you and begins to make his own drink while you fill the cup with ice, add a small amount of cream and sugar, and cover with coffee. He begins to fill you in on his recent adventures, as he walks through the hospitality trailer with you, getting caught up in a story about his hunt for an apartment in Monaco.

After a few sips, you can feel the small being inside of you begin to roll, the gentle butterfly-like movements bringing a smile to your face.

A smile that is quickly replaced by a wince when the baby begins kicking. One particular jab causes you to stumble, the coffee sloshing over the cup's rim and down the front of your blouse.

George reaches out to steady you, his hand gentle on your elbow as you take a deep breath. "You're sure you're okay? I can go grab Toto if you-"

"No," you set the cup down on a nearby table and reach for a napkin, dabbing at the cold liquid, "I'm fine, just uncoordinated. I'm actually having lunch with him and Lewis soon. If you see them, will you let them know that I'll be right back? I just have to do something about this." You gesture down to the mess you've made on yourself.

"I will. Let me know if you need anything."

You lock the bathroom door behind you and pull at the coffee-stained shirt. It was one of Toto's old black Mercedes button downs - you had realized over the break that they were one of the few pieces of team wear that could disguise your growing bump. Although the coffee stain wasn't too visible, you knew that the lingering scent of coffee and cream could set off your nausea at any moment. You pull the shirt off and fold it neatly, pulling on the only other thing you had: your favorite sweatshirt, one you had stolen from Toto long ago. The white fabric was still somehow unstained and pulling it on always reminded you of receiving a big hug from your husband. You adjusted the fabric around your body, trying to find the best arrangement to hide your belly, but it seemed that no matter what way you moved, the cotton clung to your skin, making your condition relatively evident.

You resign yourself to making it work until you could track down another shirt and exit the bathroom, large tote purse clutched in front of your stomach.

Toto sees you cross the room and waves you over, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he pulls out a chair for you at the table. You have a moment to get settled before Lewis arrives, greeting you excitedly.

"You look fantastic," Lewis says, a wide smile stretching across his face as he settles into the chair across from you. "Did you two go somewhere tropical for vacation? Back to Barbados? Because you're seriously glowing."

Toto scoots his chair closer to yours, his knee bumping yours under the table as one of his hands comes to rest on your leg. You feel your cheeks grow warm but you shake your head. "We've just been at home! We had some remodeling to do so it was a relatively quiet break for us."

"You changed your shirt," Toto notices, glancing down to where his large sweatshirt covers your small frame.

"I had a bit of an accident with my coffee earlier and this was all I had in my bag. It's more comfortable than the shirt I wore anyways."

The chef swings by to chat with Toto and Lewis, mentally noting their lunch requests before turning to you. "Mrs. Wolff?"

"I'll have whatever salad you've got today, with chicken, please, no processed meat."

Toto gives your leg a light squeeze before he turns back to Lewis, both jumping right back into the conversation they'd been having before.

As you're digging into your lunch, another sharp kick is delivered to your ribs from within your womb, the sudden movement punching the air from your lungs. You subconsciously move a hand to your bump to cradle the active baby inside while soothing the all-too-familiar pain in your abdomen.

Toto glances over in alarm, his voice quieting mid sentence as his brows furrow. "You okay?"

You grimace as the baby continues its movements, a tiny hand or knee or elbow or foot jammed viciously into your bladder. You should be used to the internal acrobatics by now - it always happens at lunch time - but it still surprises you whenever it happens.

"Oh my god," Lewis says quietly, immediately drawing both yours and Toto's gaze. He's smiling, his face so bright it looks like he just won the World Championship. "I knew it."

"We haven't told anyone in the paddock yet," you say, the words rushed on an exhale as you arch sideways to relieve some of the tension, smiling when it seems to placate the tiny human inside of you. "We were waiting until some time after the break, but this baby moves around in here like they're trying to break out early. Surprise!"

Lewis sits stunned, eyes moving back and forth between you and Toto. "Wow. I'm shocked, but thrilled for you both. Congratulations! Oh man, a little Wolff. That baby is going to be adored by everyone in this paddock, you know."

Tears well in your eyes at his words, the realization of how right he is settling in heavily. "Thank you," you manage tearfully, wiping away the moisture at the corner of your eyes before it drags your makeup down your face. "We couldn't be happier." You turn back to Toto. "Well, the secret's out. I want to tell everyone, I'm ready for it."

He leans in to press a quick kiss to your forehead. "Okay Schatzi, let's do it."

Later that afternoon, you and Toto take a break and hole yourselves up in his office, the lights low and the door locked to avoid any interruption or intrusion. Toto makes you sit back on the couch with your feet in his lap, his deft fingers gently massaging the sore and swollen flesh.

You stare at your phone for a while, debating on what to share, before finally turning the screen towards Toto. An Instagram post of the same announcement you had sent your family is drafted, along with a short and sweet caption: Baby Wolff coming soon! You knew it would be better to share with people in person, but this covered all of the bases, and in 15 minutes the entire paddock would be abuzz with the news anyways.

Toto grins and nods, pressing the "Post" button before you can rethink it. He pulls the phone from your hands, pressing a button and swiping at the screen to turn the device off. He moves over you, his lips gentle against yours as he smiles into the kiss. "I'm proud of you, mama."

"You too, Daddy," you grin, watching the way his eyes narrow and darken.

"Did you lock the door?" he asks, his hands already creeping under the hem of his hoodie, smoothing over the stretched skin of your bump.

"Sure did."

"Let's celebrate."

#my writing #texts with toto #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf #toto wolff #reader insert #toto wolff x reader #i hope you like it!!#there's more i could've added but i'm pleased enough #please note: i've never been pregnant so i have no idea if the movements i've described are accurate #they are a reflection of what i've consumed from media #if this needs a different warning/tag please let me know #i've never written something like this before!#anyways!!#off i go before i embarrass myself even more #kay.ask

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blackberry-gingham · 2 years

Text

Be Still My Foolish Heart (Don't Ruin This on Me) | Otto Octavius x fem!Reader

<... Previously | Chapter 2 | Next...>

Your interest in cello music begins to grow and soon enough, you propose a request to the good doctor. But, as the on going snow storm begins to kick up... Will you have time to enjoy his work?

(Fic concept by my dear friend, @samatedeansbroccoli 😌🤲🏻)

Tag list: @smokeywhalee @stupid-stinky @busybeingtrash @momos-peaches @pinkieperil @amongpresidents @bimboshaggy @nanjalee @mickeyperkins @tolovaj @omgbrainstorming @bad-bitch-bisexual (tag list open to additions! Or, lmk if you want off, all good!)

tags: slow burn, music au

---

Otto comes storming into his apartment. Covered in snow and filled with indignant rage, the doctor shrugs the snow off his shoulders, slamming down his things.

Some days are almost enough to make him want to quit. Hardly two days into his work week, and already Osborn has managed to piss him off to the core. You'd think the man owned him, like a piece of machinery or a simple minded dog, the way he treats him.

But... As much as he might like, he can't leave.

No because, genius as he is... He has no funding. Nowhere to go.

He needs a successful project, and the payment that comes with it, if he ever wants to get out from under Norman's thumb. Hmp, and he suspects Osborn knows it too...

Is this all part of the plan? The constant heckling and annoyance... Does Osborn think he doesn't know he can't leave? Is this a push to force him out, humiliate him, then have him come crawling back? But what good would that serve? Aside from stroking Norman's ego.

Bah, this is just the problem.

Mind games.

It's always something with him. Always some strange and ulterior motive that only benefits Norman Osborn. And if not him directly, then his damnable corporation.

Ha, maybe he should go to one of his competitors... That would be the perfect set back. But then... No to that too. He's invested too much time in his current work. His work that's saturated with the Oscorp copyright on the blueprints.

Amidst all his raving, the doctor seems to have found his way to his stool.

There stands his cello, faithful and faultless. It's his only true company these days. He does have some good news though. Last night, he managed to snag himself a pillow for the hard wooden seat.

It's a chair covering that he... Borrowed, from Oscorp. He has since defaced it enough that it has become truly his own. No longer does it remind him of the hell he comes here to escape.

The doctor nudges open a little box and takes out some oils for his bow. With a slow, meticulous hand, he prepares the string for another show. He must admit, he hasn't been as good to his instrument as he should. Not enough cleaning, not enough polish... But no more.

It has become his only companion. His only escape from the wretched outside world...

And as the snow continues to fall in it's steady waves, he fears more and more that he will be forced to rely on it soon.

You mutter a curse, throwing down your pencil into your notebook. The glow of your laptop illuminates your face and the blanket covering your head and shoulders. Damn this class. And damn this homework.

Bio chemistry is killing you. Why oh why do you need this class?

You fall back against your couch, alone in the dark. With a dejected sigh, you close your eyes to relax. There's no possibility of putting it off, it's due by midnight. You check the clock on your computer.

Barely even halfway done the assignment, and only two hours left.

A distraction sounds nice, but... You surely can't afford one right now. So... you wait. Maybe some rest will do you a service. You sit in silence, until...

The sound of music wafts in.

It's slow and sad and bassy. Relaxing and a little mysterious, with a tinge of a romantic quality. Eyes closed, you sigh deeply, sinking back into your seat.

There's that secretive neighbor of yours again.

While it's true you haven't been living here long, you find it a little strange you haven't seen him yet. He leaves early in the morning, just a little bit before you leave for campus. Then, he only ever seems to come back late, late at night.

A part of you has these fantastical ideas about him. What he might look like or what he does for work. Or... maybe he's just like everyone else around here. A shitty job and a mundane life. You huff a laugh.

Not too unlike yourself then.

The concerto continues and after one or two songs, you feel a renewed energy. Perhaps these questions aren't so daunting. You work in peace, still putting up a fight with your homework, but at least you feel more relaxed.

By some miracle, you're finished at last before the dead line. Your mysterious neighbor stopped playing over half an hour ago, but that's alright. Instead, you substituted his absence with some Cello music of your own. The music through the speakers doesn't quite feel the same, but it's enough.

Better then the damnable silence at least.

Even after the work is done... You leave the playlist running for a little while more. A few songs peak your interest here and there and you casually file them away into a personal playlist for later.

One song however, stands out to you like none of the rest.

Maybe it's the deep vibrato. Maybe it's the tasteful touch of singing and the singers rich, bassy voice that makes it that much more stirring... Whatever it may be, you can say with confidence that the way its rousing timbre makes your heart skip a beat and your chest swell with emotion before the end definitely has something to do with it.

You put it on repeat, and each time it never seems to lose its luster.

Then... It gives you a bold idea.

You tear off a scrap of notebook paper and jot down the name of the song and artist. Not but a few seconds later, you behold your work. Then... A mite of doubt begins to creep in.

As much as you'd love for your talented neighbor to perform this piece... You're afraid it'd be asking too much. After all, it's not as though you know one another. Then again... He doesn't have to know it's from you...

And if he wants to disregard it, you'd be none the wiser, right? Yes. Yes...

For now you hold onto it, storing it carefully on a nearby table. Perhaps tomorrow you'll make your delivery.

And that's just what you do.

In the morning, on your way out to class, you slip the paper sheet under the door and go on your way. He's long gone for whatever job he works by this hour. At least that fills you with some confidence regarding the preservation of your anonymity.

Later that afternoon, the doctor slams open his front door with a growl. Money, funding, and contracts be damned. He has half a mind to never go back to Oscorp again.

Why oh why is that bastard so insistent on antagonizing him? It's not his fault Norman's damn military project is failing. How is he at fault simply because his project is succeeding instead?

With even greater force then before, Otto shuts the door with wicked strength, the bang of wood echoes all along the barren hallway.

Fucking egotist. It's always about making Norman fucking Osborn look good. Not Oscorp. Not the hard working men and women contracted there within. Always... fucking... hi-

The doctor jumps straight up with a yelp.

In the wake of his abused door, a small sheet of paper flys up in the air. It passes up past his head, then flutters slowly towards the ground. With only a few clumsy misses, the doctor frantically snatches it out of the air.

Please don't be more bills... He's very much not in the mood.

Otto adjusts his glasses, pushing them back up his long, crooked nose as he scrutinizes the shred of paper. In quick, excitedly scribbled hand writing is a note. A... request.

The doctor's heart flutters with surprise and excitement all his own. He's been playing for so many years, and never before has he received an actual request for his music. Sadly, he's a bit more use to being told to quiet down.

Suddenly, it crosses his mind that whomever it was who left him his note, could very well have been near enough to listen in on his little tantrum moments before. Sheepishly, he peaks outside of his door. Empty.

Well then, perhaps not.

Like a child on Christmas day, he hurries back into his home, excitedly re-reading your note. He's never heard of this song before, meaning it must be contemporary. That puts a doubt in his mind of it's quality, but he'll give anything a try at least once. With a little research...

Ah. The doctor scoffs. He doesn't know where you found this song, but the one by the particular artist you named seems to be a cover. An English cover that is, of the original Spanish version. Undoubtedly an attempt to appeal to a greater audience, but nothing can beat the splendor of a song sung in it's native language. Although...

He that's not to say he can really sing, per say...

Well, he could if he tried of course, but effort alone hardly equates to skill. Still, the doctor shakes his head free of such thoughts. He still has yet to actually hear the piece.

But, after giving it a fair chance... He can understand why you might like this song so much.

The doctor replays it again, this time with his bow and cello and hand. Otto gives it a moment so he can pick up on the melody, then plays along soon enough. The first try isn't as perfect as he'd hoped, but he is pleased to find that his ear for picking up chords and rhythms is just as good as ever. With a little more practice, he finds he can play through the whole thing with ease.

And on that final, perfect playthrough, his heart pounds with pride as he saws the last note.

This is just what he needed, a brand new challenge. Something to get his mind off of-

The doctor's thoughts are interrupted by the insistent ringing of his phone. With a groan he rolls his eyes and goes to check it. His suspicions on the caller's identity are proven correct. It's work. Of course they want him back, especially after he stormed out early...

It rings and rings and rings... The doctor's eyes are transfixed on the little answer symbol. His sense of integrity demands he pick up, but his pride begs to differ. Why should he come at Norman's every beck and call? He's his own man with his own life.

No. Whatever it is, it'll have to wait.

The doctor tosses the little device onto the couch where it mercifully rings its last.

He turns back to his cello and music. You know, it's rather lucky you picked this song to send his way... He knows quite a few languages, Spanish being one of his favorites. Thankfully there isn't much singing in this song, as there shouldn't be, but what is in there he believes he can manage.

He's heard enough by now that he has the simple lyrics committed pretty solidly to memory. With a great clearing of the throat, it's all the warm up he intends to do. Starting out quietly for the first singing play through, he thinks he does decently enough.

For now, he gives it one more playthrough to do everything in one go before taking a well deserved break.

Throughout all this practicing, have yet to have heard a single note. No, you've been far too busy fighting your way through the absolute blizzard that's kicked up since this morning.

The snow has been off and on for the past couple days, but this seems to be the one last great hurrah of it all.

You don't get home until much later then normal. So much so that you almost wonder if you'll run into your neighbor on his way home as well. No such luck however.

By the time you're safely inside your apartment, you're frozen to the bone. You've long forgotten about your musical request earlier today, and to be quite honest... Right now you don't care.

Your fingers tremble and ache, burning with dryness and numb with chill all at the same time, you reach for the light switch to click it on. Nothing happens. Frantic and frustrated, you click the light back and forth, on and off, several more times before finally admitting defeat.

Shit.

You walk a little deeper into the room only to see that all your plugged in appliances and electronics are offline. Does that mean... You race over to the vent above your couch. It should be spewing hot air as usual, but... Despite your desperate dance of stretching and waving in an attempt to catch any warmth... The vent is perfectly quiet.

Shit.

Of course you should've expected that the wiring in this place wouldn't hold out forever... But you didn't quite think it would give out now, of all times. You run about and test a few more things. You have running water at least, but it's freezing cold. No shower tonight, you suppose.

With no end in sight for the winter storm, you gather up a mass of blankets and perch yourself on your trusty couch. You know... There's still homework to be done. You groan and flop down on the cushions allowing the weight of the blankets to smother you.

In all honesty, you're not sure if you'll be able to get the work all done before your laptop dies...

Fine then. Resolutely, you decide to shun the work. With one little email sent out over data waves, you relax at last. Well... As much as one can when faced with the freezing cold.

Your fingers and even now your toes, have long since gone numb. No amount of shivering or tightening of blankets seems to make a difference. But what else can you do? With nothing and no one to draw a source of warmth from... It would appear you'll have to hold on and hope.

You huddle one of your many blankets up over nose. Your ribs themselves feel cold and shake ceaselessly. The freezing numbness in the tip of your nose does not surprise you.

Before long, you drag yourself over to the kitchen, blanket now doing even less to warm you. Damn, you're hungry... But only now does it dawn on you that you have no means of cooking any of your frozen meals.

Now you're starting to panic. F-fuck... Maybe you'd be better off trying to sleep through this all? Hard to think of even when you can't stop shaking though....

Suddenly, a knock at your door startles you out of your thoughts.

Hmp, good. Maybe it's the land lord come to explain when the power will be restored. You hop across the freezing floor. Not that it's temperature matters, considering you've lost all feeling below your shins.

Your hands no longer hurt, in fact they don't feel anything at all, as the flex and grasp for the door handle. With a bit of effort, you open the stuck door wide. But it's not the land lord waiting for you. A large man in a thick sweater stands nervously before you.

"Ahem", the doctor clears his throat, "uh, a-are you cold? I have some hot soup going if you'd like"

#doc ock x reader #otto octavius x reader #music au #marvel

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turtle-ly · 2 years

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I’ve exhausted all your fic recs (all amazing) do you have any more 🥺

(my fic recs 1 and 2)

asdfghjkl damn bestie that was 50 fics. what have you been doing?👀 okay let me see, the first step after reading a cool fic is going to the author's page to read their other fics. i can try giving you some more, this time there will be less angst?

Oneshots:

1. catnip by clicheusername5678, pre s1, catra gets her hands on catnip but in a sad way. listen it has to be angsty before i give you the fluff 😌

2. what's left of my heart is still made of gold by mondkind, a small s5 catra study and because i love the lyrics title so much

3. if i could have done it all again, i would have loved you better by mondkind, post s5, we love a big after the war adora character study to go with it <3

4. The End of Things by Fuhadeza, im forever weak for she-ra's power hcs pre s5, which in short are fics where it goes wrong. catra helps bring adora back

5. gravity by jeserai, you know the myth of the statue which will come to life when touched by its soulmate? yeah

6. claws and teeth by Captain_M, the thing is, catra could always beat adora in a fight

7. Those Horde Kids Are Freaks, Yo by avulle, here's the promised not-angst :) i've said before that my fav hc is that the horde ppl are a lil fucked up right? this is it but in a crack way, the kids are Weird

Multi-chapters:

8. buried a hatchet (it’s coming up lavender) by erce3, portal aus my beloved. catradora got stuck in the portal - a barren etheria where everything is the same but not quite, imageries that turn out to be more than that

9. Somebody to Love, a series by BrightYellowBumblebee, catra married a princess and of course, no one believes her <3

10. (how could i know that) the answer was so easy a series by poalof, micah adopts catra post s3, you know how it is with me and these

11. for every rose its thorn, a series by JoyfullyMellowTyrant, soulmate au in canon universe, from the day they first met

Special additions: cool character studies and fics that are not catradora but close

12. Normal by Azureshadowmoon, lonnie-centric, she is the team mom :)

13. Stay Away From Edges (and from ropes if you can) by Froggimus_Rex, warning: Suicide Attempt , Suicidal Thoughts , this author's other works are very dark so beware. Adora's twelve, best as she can tell, when she comes to a single, horrifying realisation.

14. the larger the beacon of light, the larger a shadow it casts by catnip (bearmons), a really cool setting that left me wanting more. catra and adora come from two social classes that couldnt be more different

15. there’s divinity, but i don’t know where by A_comet_burning_up, first part of a series that explores adora's loss of identity since becoming she-ra, really interesting she-ra hc

(if you ask for more i might have to bring out the E-rated fics and you should know from my recs that my taste can be a bit unconventional, let me keep my dignity ok <3)

#she ra #catra #adora #catradora #spop #spop catra #spop adora #fic rec #my footprints #my she ra stuff #the angst-to-fluff ratio has not improved much lmao #my asks

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