#which wasn't necessary but nice‚ and I prefer it over what I have now.

[thesamoanqueen]

Red Marks

Raiting: 18+

Warnings: SMUT; Oral; Cumming kink (a bit…).

A/N: Im still thinking about that 2K23 promo, so… here, for yall, Roman and his sassiness.

The room was empty, anonymous, one of many in the building. What attracted him was the view, but not the one beyond the large windows.

- What with this face? - he asked amused, as Y/N locked the door and dragged him by the arm, her gaze concentrated and that sparkle in her eyes that he had learned to adore.

She had gone there with another crew, but it didn't last long and Roman was more than happy about it. He never got tired of having her close and with that skirt wrapping her hips, who could blame him? Even if he wasn't the one who couldn't resist, it was pretty clear by now.

- What face? Dont know what ya talkin about, sit down. - she snorted a bit, pushing him towards one of the chairs that had been arranged around the table.

She had had a face for sure and throughout his filming. She had stood near monitors, watching the recordings, occasionally chatting with the technicians about shots and cuts, but he had seen her. The eyes that ran over him, lip that occasionally curled up, nail that ended up for a second between teeth, curls twisted on a finger…

- So bossy – he laughed, letting himself fall without the slightest resistance and she froze for a moment in front of him, her expression thoughtful and her legs that seemed to never end up on those heels.

- Too much? I can fix it.

It was amazing how easily she could go from shoving him into a room to that innocent-girl look, but as good as she was and she absolutely really was, they both knew this was an act. She liked to leave him in control, Roman was aware of it and he felt responsible for that privilege, but those weren't the occasions in which she was truly vulnerable. She could kneel between his legs for the rest of their days, barefoot and with her head resting on his boner and if she had only asked, whispered, he would grant her anything.

- We can put it off for a few hours – he proposed, stroking her soft hair on one shoulder.

He wasn't going to stay there for the night, but he had a room for the day in one of the city hotels and however exciting their encounters torn from the chaotic routines were, with Y/N he always preferred to have a bed and a good amount of time to devote her. But she almost never agreed and as expected, Roman saw her lift the head from his thigh, her expression less innocent.

- Postpone a head to the Head of the table, under a table? Nope – she flicked her tongue quickly, reaching for the waistband of the suit they'd provided him to shoot that promotional video.

- Its a bad abused jokes ya know - he laughed a little as Y/N worked her way into his dark underwear, nails scratching the fabric above his boner.

He wasn't ready yet, not completely at least, but his breathing suddenly became deeper and slower at that simple touch. His eyes fixed hopelessly on her and on the expression with which she stared at her own hands, exploring from the elastic band to the raised seams under which Roman was continuing to harden. He felt scratching along the prominent veins, as if there was a precise map of his body in her mind and her fingers grabbing it to come up, the friction of the tissue to stimulate him.

- Let's abuse something else then – she replied with a slight grin, tilting her head a little to look at him and Roman grabbed her face in a rush, slowly passing his fingertip over her soft cheek.

He gladly would have done it and the idea excited him more than necessary, but he didn't know how practical it was. They would have to get out of that office sooner or later and she couldn't walk around with her makeup dripping everywhere, although it would have been nice to see. Just as was his cock in her hands and the hungry expression with which Y/N seemed to aim at it every time. He felt the change in temperature and the warm breath on his tip as she stimulated him enough that he hardened completely, one hand cradling his full weight and the other reaching under his still-closed black shirt. Her strokes on his lower abs made it itch right there, but they were a comforting counterpoint to the teeth with which she was holding the now taut skin.

- Easy with those teeth – he blew in an already low voice, seeing her give up immediately.

- I can't help... you look a little bit too hot with this on – she admitted, pulling the edge of his suit a little, but Roman had his eyes elsewhere.

On her full lips, dyed a bright red that day and on the kiss she had placed on his cock, right where she had bitten earlier. One and then a second, climbing towards the tip.

- Someone is on a mood today? – he asked rhetorically, receiving just a moan in reply, flesh stretched between her thin fingers - … show me how much you like it, babygirl. Gimme a proof. - he pushed her, stroking the nape of her neck uncovered by the hair, resting on his thigh and Y/N didn't wait any longer for a first taste.

The wetness of her tongue right against the tip sent a jolt all over his body and Roman growled softly in approval, hearing her hiss in amusement at that reaction. Her hands hadn't stopped squeezing it and pulling it slowly along its entire length, her nails scratching every time they reached the base, rubbing the skin where it was rougher and darker. He had the impression that she was maneuvering him with a precise goal and when between licks and kisses, the first drops of precum gushed from his tip, Y/N took it into her mouth quickly.

- F-fuck, that way yes – he grunted, his hard-on sliding against her soft tongue for an half.

He loved being inside her, any part of her. She was always soft, warm and in some absurd way welcoming, Roman would gladly sink in her and never to come out again and for once Y/N seemed in the mood to oblige. Her head pulled back, tracing a glossy streak of saliva across his dry skin, but when the only part of his cock still in her mouth was the tip, Roman felt her suck as if she wanted to pull away his soul. Her cheeks tucked in a little and he tightened her grip on the back of her neck, a low growl welling up from his belly as she smacked her lips with a loud pop and sucked him back in. One inch at a time, deeper and deeper, with more demand, and he found himself leaning his head back against the seat, the heat mounting and the blood pumping. Her hand held him now without even squeezing, letting her mouth anchor him to hers, fingers stroking his swollen sac at the base. He felt her closer to him, her body working its way between his legs and lifting a little to swallow him better, deeper than before and when he finally felt her throat against his tip he reopened his eyes.

- Good girl… take it- all of it like a pro, yes – he gasped breathlessly, pushing a little against her, while Y/N meowed around his hot flesh making it vibrate.

She wasn't letting go of him for a second, her expression at least as heated as Romans, but it wasn't that that had caught his attention and the instant his mind, clouded by the mounting climax, finally realized, an almost animal growl escaped his chest.

- Y/N…- he called her softly, his eyes on the marks she was leaving on him.

His cock was now a mess of spit and cum, but there was more on his skin. Her lipstick was resistant to food and drink and quick kisses, but no one must have tested it for that sort of thing and it had marked a reddish streak and blotches on his skin where she had stung. It was an obscene sight that Roman didn't remember ever experiencing before and that along with the smirk Y/N was giving him, had just brought out the worst in him.

- What? – he heard her ask with false indifference, tucking a strand behind her ear to get back to her work again and Roman pushed her down firmly, while being careful not to hurt her.

- I cannot ruin you here, but we gonna do this my way now – he warned her, before moving his hips and making a first stroke inside her throat.

Y/N coughed around him, but it was only a physical reflex and when Roman finally felt her throat relax, her flat tongue cushioning him and hands stroking him for reassurance, his hips moved again and this time without stop. Slow and compelling, he started fucking her throat, pounding stroke after stroke on her bottom, groans increasing and Y/N moaning between his legs. His eyes were unable to move from his cock and observe the marks she had imprinted on him, as he moved in and out of her lips that were slowly losing the lipstick color. For long minutes he continued tirelessly, until the heat started to get too much and he pulled her back, standing up and holding out his hand for her to stand as well.

- Ro… - Y/N complained, accepting anyway, but he quickly shook his head.

- Bend on the table, fast. - he ordered, giving her a loud slap on her round, beautiful ass that made her jump.

- And I was the boss – she joked, bending anyway and letting him lift her skirt.

- Im your Daddy not your boss, ya know that – he replied just as quickly, rubbing his fingers on her lingerie to check that she was ready for him.

He wasn't that kind of man, they'd raised him better than that and that was one of the reasons why he didn't like finish, quickly into her mouth without giving her anything back. That and developing a form of obsession with cumming inside her.

He felt Y/N's hand stroke his beard, as he leaned over her back and her “I know” chuckled a bit, choked as he entered her without any warning, pressing her into the surface of the office table. The show she had subjected him to must have had a lot of effect on her too, she was soaked and already throbbing at the first stroke, a sign that she couldn't be far from her climax either. And that was okay, because Roman was sure he couldn't go on as he would have liked and he had no desire to hear someone knocking on the door to interrupt and ask questions.

- Ahn! Ro!

- Dont hold back babygirl, c-cmon

With long, rough thrusts, he lifted her up by her hips, feet barely touching the floor even with her heels on, and he began to pound her, feeling his belly burn down and his nuts taut. He should have taken off her lingerie that was scratching him with each thrust, lowering his trousers better, but he hadn't wanted to waste a second and at that point the only foresight he was having was to keep his arm under her belly to avoid crushing her on the table. It was fine though, anything was fine as long as they were together and his gaze fell once again on his cock crawling between her folds, spreading her wide.

- Take me, take. Me.

- J-jesus…! Ro!

Her moods were covering the lipstick traces like a patina and that sight was enough to make him pick up the pace again, immediately feeling her pulse in a vice as he quickly found her sweet spot to speed things along. He was at his limit, he needed to empty himself, but he just had to hold on a little longer. Merciless Roman kept pounding where her walls were softest, fingers squeezing on her hips and when Y/N finally did it, stifling her hot moan against the table, Roman let go, throbbing inside her without stop pushing. His body was shaken by an intense and sudden wave that seemed to drain his energy and for a long moment he remained inside her, flesh writhing between her juices. Only when his mind regained lucidity he pulled away, seeing her immediately straighten up and try to put back what was no longer right. He silently followed suit, taking the opportunity to smooth his breathing again, but his hands stopped as they lifted the black underwear, still seeing the lipstick marks on him like a proprietary mark.

Her mark.

- I'll have to put it back… - he heard her said, hands perming up the unkempt curls on one side and then tucking his red tie back into place.

- Im not sorry - he laughed softly, letting her also take care of the suit collar, while he arranged underwear and pants and heard her, imitate him.

- Me too, looks good on you.

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyanarossi @wickedsunfire @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @thiccc-rider-mcintyre @keybladeofsteel @iovereigns @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @ichdrachenfrau @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @niknakbucks92 @wrestlezaynia @reignsx @reigns-central-blog @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @thedonsfactory @snowpanda18 @brattyfics @wanna-be-dominated @kitanasposts @namjoonspinkytoenail @tribalchiefdaily @2baddies2furious @vebner37 @raeluvshammett @depressedneedingrevenge @cyberdejos2 @thewarlordsworld

#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #roman reigns oneshot #roman reigns x female reader #roman reigns x y/n #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fan fiction #roman reigns one shot #wwe fic #wwe smut

[kidsinsaturn]

Well I need itachi hcs, right now. so how would he be in a relationship and what would his type be? So what does his girl have to have (can go on looks and character). If you don't accept it, that's fine, i still love you<3

itachi general headcanons

[🗼] itachi bb he has so much boyfriend material this wasn't enough

characters: itachi uchiha

genre: sfw

warnings: none, weird crow boy things; fem!reader

.

.

.

-itachi my little meow meow. he is such a weird little guy hahah I love him so much

-the other day I was thinking why I like him so much, and I came to the conclusion that apart from his godly looks, he is such a kind and gentle person, always thinking of everyone, considering other people's feelings, and that his ultimate dream was being a malewife pfff that says a lot about him

-ok itachi observes everyone, literally no one goes unnoticed by him, but after he sees them, he doesn't pay too much attention to them anymore

-so a way to catch itachi's eye is by being somewhat different, having something that makes you stand out from the crowd. say you have a nice hair color, or you have a weird talent, or you are versatile lol

-but something that is even canon is that you have to talk to him, like my boy won't talk to you unless it's super necessary but otherwise he prefers not interacting with people lmaoo

-literally the reason shisui and itachi are besties is because shisui talked to him, like I imagine itachi not having any friends if shisui didn't approach him aaay no bby

-itachi appreciates someone who is a little more extrovert than him, he sometimes believes that opposites attract so he doesn't mind when he is with a more outgoing person

-he wouldn't settle for a naruto type of partner however, like he appreciates the extravagance but please stop you are overwhelming him,,,,

-so imagine you talked to him first and you and him slowly became friends, and soon lovers. because let's be honest, boy is popular with girls, but he won't even talk to a fly so he loves to death his little circle of friends, which includes you

-itachi enjoys your outgoing presence, I think he would like someone who has a sense of humor, deep down he does like some jokes, and also someone who has their feet on the ground; someone who cherishes peace–because that's his whole character at the end of the day–; and someone with realistic goals that would not only benefit them, but also other people,,, he is selfless, we have to recognize that

-i don't really think itachi would have body preferences on his girl, as long as you are taking care of yourself. let's remember that boy was always over his baby brother to make sure that he was okay, the last thing he wants for you is to stop taking care of yourself,,,

-if he senses any downfall, my boy will rush in to be there with you, making you food and even controlling your schedule so you can rest and get well <3

-he does enjoy taking care of you–that's in his nature–, but of course it would make him happier and prouder to see you loving you and looking after yourself

-BUT if he had the chance to be a little picky,, I think he is such a tits guy, like he really loves titties, he don't care if they are small or huge, boy just wants to hold some boobi

-and idk why but I also feel he would prefer a girl shorter than him, it could be that protective sense acting up,, but he feels he can protect you best if you are a little smaller than him

-however, itachi doesn't care entirely on your body–almost nothing I would dare to say–, but how you are and act is something important to him

-we know that itachi believes in not judging on people right away, so he would take his sweet time meeting you deeply so he can decipher what kind of person you are. but if from the beginning you act hostile and lie not only to others, but to yourself, then that's a bye from him, itachi can't stand people who don't recognize themselves [kabuto pfff]

-itachi doesn't believe in perfectness, so he doesn't seek that either on himself and on other people. he would accept you with your flaws and all, and if you can touch this man's heart once, he is yours forever <3

-itachi is such a patient, gentle, and selfless lover, always seeking your peace and comfort first

-he is such a gentleman agh im getting sick,,, the type of guy to open all the doors for you, pull your chair, carry your things. in a modern setup, he would always pull the car door for you, waiting for you to settle down and then closing it after; if you are walking on a sidewalk, he would pull you to the other side so he is on the side of the road aaaaa marry me

-the type of boyfriend to always give you a flower, like during your honeymoon phase, he always gifted you bouquets of your fav flowers, but then he didn't do as excessive but continued giving you a single rose or such mmm aaa

-he is the sweetest boyfriend there is, ok prepare for more hcs because he has such husband material stapp

-the kind of boyfriend to wear on his wrist one of your hair bands AYAY like he does it so nonchalantly it’s so hot mmm

-itachi is very supportive of your goals and activities, as long as they aren't potentially harmful. he will always voice his worries if he senses the sightliest of dangers, of course he is realistic all the time

-he enjoys so much seeing you perform those activities, he is so smitten looking at you all happy with yourself

-selfless king, if you are not feeling 100 one day, do not worry, your boyfriend itachi is there to make you all your meals, read to you, message your feet if you want, cuddle with you ayyy no I can't

-always watching over you, either if you are a ninja or not, he will always have a selected crow with you. you may have already noticed this and you even named the little crow

-when assigned to long missions away from the village, he has shisui looking for you at least three times a week. shisui reports to itachi with crows ahah weird guys

-best cooker because uhh duh itachi is good at everything. if you ask for something, he will do it for you and only you. he has a sweet tooth and if you do too, ay ay he found his soulmate

-he doesn't really like pda, all his touches and kisses are done inside privately with you only. when in crowded areas, he keeps his hand on the small of your back, or he might as well hold your hands. there aren't kisses, not even pecks sorry but baby is shy ok !! understand him plsss

-ohh but when you are in your house, or his, mmm itachi is all in and accepts all. he loves so much your cuddles and kisses, they brighten up his days always

-itachi gets so flustered from make out sessions at the beginning of your relationship it's so cute,,, he can't just keep up with you, he feels so hot he can't continue

-but after some time, he gets used to them and it is you now who is left breathless. WHICH happens often, because itachi is such a gentle yet rough kisser, pecking your lips so softly but also nibbling on your tongue and tasting the insides of your mouth with his own

-itachi also loves touching you, this part comes along with the kissing one because at the beginning he is also shy to even brush your hands, but thennn,,,, he loves putting his large hands on your waist and thighs

-and as I said, itachi loves holding your titties, especially when cuddling. he prefers putting his head on your breasts while you massage his scalp

-itachi is so touch starved. his love language is acts of service, but ohh he would melt with someone whose love language is physical affection

-when going out, itachi is such a young gentleman. helping you with your dress, your jewelry, and if you trust him that much, with your hair too. always kissing you–making out– right before going out, leaving you so hot and steamy gosh he knows damn well what he is doing I hate you itavhi please kiss me

-beautiful boyfriend. if being the prettiest man alive wasn't enough, being the best partner is

#itachi #itachi uchiha #uchiha itachi #itachi uchiha x reader #itachi x reader #itachi x you #itachi uchiha x you #naruto

[safety-writes-noms]

OKAY HI- HEARD YOU WANTED ASKS SO

MAYBE SOME OF YOUR VORE IMAGINES ON NOIR OR MIGUEL?

Or just whoever you want hshs

YES OFC POOKIE I’LL DO BOTH

Also I’m most familiar with writing g/t vore so i hope that’s okay and im sorry if it’s not your preference 😔

VORE BELOW CUT

Noir:

He comes from a dimension where people are starving in the streets and food is a precious resource. So if you offer to let him nom you or ask him to, he’ll be really appreciative. Especially if he’s hungry and needs a small placeholder before he can get to actual food.

Always has a protective hand placed over his belly if there’s someone tucked away inside. It makes him feel a bit more secure, knowing that the person is completely safe now but he can never be too sure. Only takes it off when he needs to.

Monochrome internals. It goes with his permanent black and white coloring. Plus i think that’d just fit. Once someone has asked him if he drank sharpie bath water. He didn’t even know what that was.

He has a cushy stomach, if not a little cramped and a little slippery. It’s moderately loud with it’s gurgles and growls, but not too loud. I feel like it’d be really warm inside, so it’s pretty comfortable. It is a little bit slimy though.

He’s up for it at any time any place. Oh, you’re cold and you want in? Say no more, he’ll swallow you and get you to a warmer area. You’re hiding from a group of people trying to hurt you? He can’t have that, he can put you in a safe and comfortable place while you hide. You just want to get eaten just because? He’s fine with that too. Down the hatch.

He’s big on comfort noms, whether or not it’s him who’s being comforted or a different person. He finds that it’s easier to calm down if he has someone inside, a small weight in his belly that helps him stay grounded. If he’s the one doing the comforting, its really easy to relax in his belly. It’s soft and warm and the constant slow movement of his other organs shifting as he breathes makes good ambiance.

Miguel:

this man is not gentle at all. He barely ever indulges himself for noms unless it’s utterly necessary. Or if he’s really close with the person, he’ll consider it at least. So when he does swallow someone in the events of an emergency, he’s not all that nice. He just nabs them, swallows them down and resumes whatever he was doing before hand, which is most often trying to contain anomalies.

He probably won’t explain and his only goal at the moment is to finish the mission, spit the person out into a safe place and leave. He’ll also be a little grumpy if the reward for his efforts is just a small stomach ache. (Even tho it’s kind of his fault for not explaining anything)

Like i said in my last post, he enjoys mouthplay a lot. If he’s comfortable enough with the person there’s a chance he might not even swallow, simply content with having something to (gently) fiddle with as he works. Although once or twice he’s accidentally had them slip down his throat when he wasn't intending to swallow the person.

He’s got a strong throat and can work someone down in just a few gulps with minor difficulty. Unless they’re actively fighting against him, in which he usually just presses a finger against his throat and pushes them down from the outside.

Despite the fact that he rarely ever indulges himself, he genuinely does like having someone tucked away inside. He just doesn’t think he deserves to have a break or should have one to just enjoy himself. Not when there are anomalies popping up everywhere, he still has repairs to make, he has thousands of people waiting on him to make life and death decisions every day and he can’t afford to “slack off”, in his words.

#sfw vore #SW answers asks #s: spidervores #spidervores #extreme cuddling #nonsexual vore

[semi-sketchy]

Well, that's Sonic X finished. Yes I still really like the show.

Firstly, season 3 is a bit mixed. The first half it struggles a bit to find it's footing with the rhythmic "new planet, Metarex stole the egg but are still there for some reason, fight ensues". It gets pretty tedious. Honestly, at this point I was missing the human characters and their antics. Like Mr. Stewart shadowing everyone as if he was coy, Rouge having Topaz to bounce off of, Ella and Chuck... I wanted something to spice it up.

However, the second half, after the Emeralds get scattered again, it starts being less formulaic, having reveals and turns into some good entertainment.

Although, Eggman stuck out to me as being particularly not great this season. First half when he's causing trouble and such is fine, but then when he becomes a sort-of double agent and starts looking out for Sonic and his friends...I just didn't like that for Eggman. It was framed more as fatherly-oversight instead of Eggman perusing his best interests. It only happened a few times in season 1 and 2, so it was easier to overlook there, but it's prevalent enough in season 3 for me to take issue with it.

On the plus side, Shadow is actually enjoyable! I didn't care for how Shadow (or SA2 in general) were done in season 2, but I liked what they did with him here. He's kinda neutral, clashing with Sonic and trying to kill Cosmo, but at the end of the day his interests are still to stop the Metarex and save the universe. He's cold, but his actions show he does care, he just has his own way of doing things. Plus he is a bit of a showoff.

I still think season 1 overall is my favorite with 3 in the middle and lastly 2. Man the Discotek subtitles made season 2 worse...

I also went into this biased that the changes between the dub and sub were negligible. Perhaps because the dub isn't as fresh in my mind as when I formed that opinion, but the sub is definitely my preferred version now. I prefer the Japanese voice cast (I wish Cream could have an English VA as good as her Japanese X one, high pitched yet so soft spoken...it's so easy on the ears) and the music is so much better.

The biggest difference for me is Chris. I actually liked him. I can't exactly narrow down why, he used to annoy me, but that wasn't an issue this time. Maybe I've grown up, perhaps the writing frames him better in the sub, maybe it's this specific translation, I can't tell.

Are the dialogue changes that huge? No. Don't get me wrong, there is a difference, however the show's plot is still the same and understandable in the dub, which, makes sense. The story has to follow the animation. Like I said earlier, the translations between these two languages is somewhat subjective and sometimes sentences need to be shortened or made longer to fill the space. That's why plenty of lines carry the same or similar meaning but are said in a different way.

Yes, the writing is better in Japanese, hell everything is better in the Japanese version and I think that applies to season 3 the most. Could I recommend it over the dub? Easily. If possible, watch the original version. Although if you really can't stand subtitles and want the audio in English (or only have access to YouTube where the Japanese version doesn't have English subs), is the dub acceptable? Also yes, it'll do.

You do have to deal with the censorship in the dub, though I've been aware of it since I was a kid. The animation censorship is silly and stupid, but aside from Chris getting flung in season 2, I didn't think the cut scenes removed much of value. However, while I didn't like the beginning of an episode reusing the end of a previous one during bingeing, when coming back to watch more after a few days, it was a nice refresher. A reminder of a time when you had to wait a week to see what happened next instead of bingeing an entire season in a day. I liked it even though it isn't necessary in this day and age.

As said before, this was not my first time watching X in Japanese. I saw it several years ago and this series rewatch was moreso an excuse to say I finally used the Blu-rays I spent money on.

If I had to rate it, 8/10, maybe even an 8.5. Solid show where there's some very high highs and the lows are still quite enjoyable while the cast is mostly faithful to their game personalities. There's a reason this show has reigned supreme in the fandom for such a long time.

Coming off of Frontiers, it was a nice reminder that yeah, Sonic is still good.

Anyways, I guess next is Boom, although I rewatched it like a year or so ago when I bought the steelbook. I've seen it so many times, I've practically got the show memorized by now. Spoilers: I like it a lot.

#sassy watches sonic #sonic x

[wendigonamecaller]

Deadly Kiss.

Desc: Asher wasn't a bad person. She was quiet, well behaved, and had a gentle beauty about her that naturally made people flock to her. Asher was a good person, until she was given a reason not to be. 2002, she's only 22, never willingly been intimate with anyone, when police stumble upon her body in the Tennessee senator's home, a single gunshot wound to her head and a gun in her corpses grasp. She wakes up in hell, with a new appearance and powers, which present her with new opportunities, until she meets Angel Dust and becomes mixed up in Charlie Morningstar's hotel, unevitably becoming mixed up with Alastor.

Taglist: @sparrowrye

TW: Violence, cannibalism.

Pt. 16: Docile.

Alastor had wandered deeper into the emporium at Rosie's request, leaving the taller overlord and the doe to themselves as they settled at Rosie's little table and Rosie made Asher a cup of tea. Asher didn't quite like hot tea, preferring cold southern sweet tea or any kind of coffee except black coffee, but she wouldn't be rude and decline Rosie's offer.

"So tell me dear, how does someone as docile and friendly as you end up in a place like Hell?" Rosie asked, her blackened gaze was relaxed and her left leg rested over her right knee.

"Erm- being a serial killer, I guess." Asher said, left hand rubbing the back of her neck as an awkward chuckle left her throat.

"Oh?" Rosie hummed, interest piqued.

"Yeah, though now I tend to avoid killing unless it's absolutely necessary." Asher said, sipping the tea.

Alastor pranced back over, placing a tray of cannibalistic delicacies on the small table before plucking one for himself. "Ah, thank you Alastor." Rosie said, picking at a finger before plopping it into her mouth with a satisfied hum.

Alastor leaned down as Rosie beckoned to him, his grin more relaxed than it usually was. Asher doesn't pay attention to what Rosie says, focusing more on Alastor. Her cheeks felt warm, her pulse felt erratic, her fingertips felt sweaty and she fought to tear her gaze away from him before the Radio Demon noticed her staring.

He backed away again, choosing to instead converse with other demons he knew. Asher's thoughts are interrupted by Rosie's light chuckle. Asher tilts her head, one ear furrowing almost like a puppy at Rosie's laughter. "Tell me youngling, you like Alastor don't you?" Rosie asked, sipping her tea.

Asher's ears furrow against her head and she feels her tail fluff up in alarm. "A-as a friend, yes. He's quite nice to me." Asher says humbly.

Rosie chuckles, her pinkish white teeth glinting in the artificial light of the Emporium. "My dear, I'm not daft." Rosie begins.

"I know the difference between platonic affection and romantic pining." She says, making Asher question if she'd be better off working for Valentino alongside Angel Dust if Alastor found out about her growing affections.

Rosie leaned slightly closer to Asher over the small table. "You're falling for him, and that scares you. What I want to know, is why." She says.

Asher chuckles quietly, back straightening out of nervousness as her right hand fidgets with her skirt. A simple tattoo peaked out from under the skirt on her left thigh. "I-I'm not sure what you mean." She says, suddenly very interested in the cannibalistic snacks placed on the table.

"You're scared of having feelings for him, why?" Rosie asked, her black eyes gentle and smile soft.

Asher shrugs. "From the stories, Alastor is heartless, yet through small actions I have the feeling that isn't true. However, Alastor is an overlord, which would give anyone a fear of falling for him." Asher says, snacking lightly on a finger.

"That's not the only reason you're scared, but not to worry I won't press you too hard. We barely know each other, for now." Rosie said, her smile growing.

Asher chuckles but slightly relaxes. "Well, I'm open to answering other questions." She says, her ears loosening from their position tensly pressed against her head.

-♡

After a while of casual talking, a male demon walked up to Rosie and Asher, the glint in his eyes wasn't friendly but not malicious either. "You're a cute little thing." He purred, reptilian tail swaying slowly.

He was tall, and blue. Around 7 feet tall maybe a little shorter, with a gecko-like head and red eyes. His hands were humongous and clawed. He wore a black T-shirt and blue jeans with a black leather jacket. Asher's ears furrowed. "Thanks..?" She hummed, eyes shifting to Rosie as the taller woman's foot nudged her boot-clad hoof from under the table.

She turned her head back to face the reptile, her heart nearly dropping to her ass as she sees Alastor out of the corner of her eye, his eyes were dark and almost unreadable, his smile nearing feral. A black aura surrounded Alastor as he watched the interaction as Asher held her finger up to gesture for him to hold off. For several minutes, Asher and Rosie both attempt to get the strange demon to leave them alone, Rosie recognizing he wasn't even a cannibal.

Until, he grabbed Asher by her wrist and yanked her out of her seat. The scene is too familiar, reminding her of her human life and making her uncomfortable. Her eyes widen in fear momentarily, before Rosie rises out of her seat angrily and within milliseconds Alastor is there, clawed hand ripping her out of the demon's hands before wrapping him in a shadowy tentacle.

Alastor turns to Asher, ears furrowed and eyes squinted in concern as his feral grin softens very slightly as he checks her over. "I'm fine-." She chokes out, but it lands on deaf ears as Alastor's skillful red gaze lands on the quickly bruising marks on Asher's wrist. Rosie's hands land gently on Asher's shoulders and suddenly the most feral growl Asher has ever heard is released from Alastor's throat as he whirls around and stalks closer to the demon. "Absolutely filthy." Alastor snarls, ripping into the demon.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin alastor #alastor x oc

[like-rain-or-confetti]

I have to ask, why are you so deadset not to write for Twilight? I tried to see if you already gave an explanation, but I couldn't find anything. Especially when you have so many requests for it. Don't you like Twilight anymore? I have to say it's a little odd 😕🧐

Ooft that explanation is about 2-3 years back now.

I'll explain again from what I remember after 2-3 years. I should start by saying at just point I had been writing for twilight for about...6 years maybe?

I was slowing down and getting into a writers block and then drama happened.

Long story short the final nail in the coffin was being accused of being racist because I preferred the Romanian coven over the Egyptian coven and it made me sick to think people could going through my writing at the time and tearing it apart looking for any kind of evidence to prove it. So with the drama and all that I said "fuck this. I had a good run. See ya later. I'm not sticking around for this shit."

And it put me off of twilight completely. I stopped reading fanfic. I deleted all of my old WIPs for twilight and focused on me, my mental health -and Jonathan Crane and Edward Nygma but shhhh 🤫-

My experience with this blog back then is the more followers came more attention which led to more of the bullshit. As I have seen with all platforms. On tumblr, I saw other blogs being called out left right and centre for one thing or another. Some valid, some not valid, and now it was my turn... again...for something else because the other ones didn't stick. However, 3 years later and being in other fandoms, I realised something.

In the twilight random, I've been accused of being a body shamer, a manipulator because of my follower number, racist, pretty sure sexist a very long time ago, and the list goes on. All from the twilight fandom. No other fandom, and I've noticed those accusations stayed in the twilight fandom. And every single one made me wonder wtf was going on. And you'd think I'd forget these accusations. The people who point the fingers seem to forget. I don't forget. I remember the feelings of confusion and terror when I got accused for every single one. So i wasn't very pleased when the reason given for my 'racism' was an assumption that I preferred the Romanians over the egyptian coven was because of their races and it must be my deep rooted racism that makes me prefer one fucked shit over the other. Both covens did fucked shit. I just had more curiosity and interest of the Romanians over the Egyptians and that got twisted into what was then called my inherent racism. I'm a sucker for villains if we haven't noticed. 🤷‍♀️

Now, 2 or 3 years later, I'm not completely against twilight. I'm over the drama. However, it does make me want to stay in my own lane, really. I'm kinda done trying to be friends with everyone because I know not everyone is on here to be friendly. There are people on here who haven't said shit to me and don't like me because X,Y and Z. So now older I realise I came in with the wrong mindset. People come online for entertainment, and entertainment comes in all shapes and sizes and there's nothing more entertaining than coming after someone in the name morality. Of course someone is gonna jump on, see the writing and make assumptions.

Its why I made the rules in the pinned comment. I'm not gonna share my political views or anything like that and fiction stays fiction over here. I have no patience for the argument that my writing gives insight to my very soul anymore. In this blog, we're here to have a good time, let the imagination pop off and have a good giggle. That's all.

So twilight was the beginning and taught me a really hard lesson, probably a necessary one too. Some people are just here for a fight on the Internet. I'm not the first or the last to be accused but I'll say one thing. It's been nice not having to look over my shoulder on every post I made for the last 3 years incase someone assumes the worst.

Would I come back? I've honestly been considering it. As much as there was bad there was twice as much good. I got a lot of love and support. I've met wonderful people from that community and a bunch of them have stuck around and had my back. Something I can't begin to thank them for. I'm very grateful to them and have no regrets. I'm not thoroughly put off of twilight anymore and I'm pretty much done trying to be understanding and civil to people who don't have the same intention.

Btws the irony isn't lost on me that I've said I'm over it but put out this massive thing but I figured my stance is still the same and so since people have the guts to accuse me of fucked shit then I shouldn't have to be quiet on their account later on. :)

#vanity needs to stop talking #twilight

[mynamesaplant]

When Worlds Collide

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Preface: 100% honest up front, I'm not a huge fan of Star Wars anymore. I enjoy it from time to time, I loved it when I was younger, but I just don't have the same spark for it anymore. However, I put that aside, listened to like five different 20-hour audiobooks to get myself into the Star Wars headspace, and got writing. Also, sososososoooooo many tabs for Wookieepedia open on my computer… Jedi is not my OC and, tried as I might, I just couldn't find much info on him on Blue's socials. I dug through Twitter as best I could, trolled through all the associated Tumblr blogs, and tried to get on other socials to find more while still being stealthy about a secret holiday gift. So, to you Blue, I apologize if Jedi is OOC, I swear I really did try to find something about him and did use your Star Wars blogs, but I couldn't find written content about him so I could write this fic. I will admit that I know the timeline for Jedi is off solely for the fact that you mentioned somewhere that Jedi has Anakin's lightsaber (which in all honesty, I thought Luke had), but I wasn't sure when anything was taking place. I am also notoriously bad about reading fics. Unless its an audiobook, I just find it hard to sit and read, but I took the time to read ABYS to try and get a sense of how Blue writes Emmet and Ingo. I doubt I nailed it. I'm not the best at emulating the styles of others - but I wrote this with a lot of good intentions and as much research as I could muster between school, work, and my life. If you celebrate any holidays around this time of year @ingo-ingoing-ingone, enjoy them, and if you don't, I hope this will be a nice gift nonetheless.

Don't want to read it here? Read it here on AO3.

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Summary: Coruscant still has trains? Yes, for a variety of reasons, it still does. Is it the most efficient means of travel? No, not always, but you certainly meet a lot of different characters on the train.

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Blending in was not exactly Jedi’s style – not when he towered over others. There was a lot about Jedi that stuck out like a sore thumb, but oddly he was right at home in the Uscru District on Coruscant. It was all eccentric outfits and bright lights; his feathers and glowing cyan markings didn’t stick out nearly as much in the loud atmosphere. Even if he was not home amongst the bars and clubs, even if there were dangerous beings to be found lurking around the district, Jedi did not mind. He could see the harmony in the chaos in this place.

His night in this hazy technicolor dream was at its end. He didn’t go to Uscru for leisure, he merely enjoyed roaming the high walkways that overlooked the endless city. Through his observations, he realized it was not too unlike a jungle, and he had always preferred seeing the jungle from the canopy. That was why he enjoyed his short time among the Wookies on Kashyyyk prior to his escort mission for an ambassador on their council.

Jedi was to guard the Wookie Ambassador Drrlysh as they traversed the Great Kashyyyk Branch to Umbara and on the planet’s surface. The Umbarans wanted a neutral party involved – meaning they didn’t want more Wookies than necessary on their planet. Once there, talks would begin about trading wroshite, the hard dark gray crystals woven between the roots of wroshyr, for doonium, one of the hardest metals in the known galaxy. He had been told the details at one point about what the metal was to be used for by the Wookies, perhaps for particularly durable bowcasters but the exact reason escaped him now. Both were hearty materials, and Mee Deechi found a particular interest in the wroshite, which was the only way he was willing to trade Umbaran doonium.

Jedi had spent the days leading up to his mission among the people of Kashyyk, climbing just as nimbly as the planet’s native inhabitants and perching in the tops of the towering conifers, staring into the mist shrouding the surrounds like a thick blanket made of wampa pelts. It was a scene that had been achingly familiar- but also alien to the Jedi. So much like home and yet not. He would return to his quarters each night and meditate on that feeling, reaching out through the Force to find an inner peace he worked to maintain.

It was not always easy, mental disciple was always more of a challenge than physical in some regards – especially for his species. However, Jedi prided himself in his training, allowing the Force to flow through him, not for feats of physical prowess, but for contemplative moments that required him flex his mind and soul like they were the lithe musculature that made him such a formidable opponent.

Although his phosphorescent gleam from his stripes grew all the brighter on the dark station platform, Jedi waited for the transport line that would deliver him to the temple in relative peace. A few giggling Czerialan on the opposite side of the platform, holding each other up despite the acute lean. Their diaphanous gowns reeked with the pungent smell of ale, wafting off them in waves which was enough to make Jedi’s acute nose twitch with distaste. Three meters to his left a Volpai and Morseerian were holding a heated debate over a game of Pazaak that the latter insisted their companion had lost their credits to. The Volpai was very clearly intoxicated, belligerent in their belief that it had been the Morseerian who had lost them.

Jedi’s ear flicked toward their voices, the four-armed Volpai slurring their words to their shorter companion, the Morseerian’s icy responses were accompanied by the mechanical hisses and clicks of the ventilator obscuring their face. Although there was clearly some aggravation at their combined loss, he felt no imminent reason to intervene. Nothing indicated that it would come to an exchange of blows or blasters, quite possibly thanks to the prominently displayed lightsaber which Jedi had subtly brought to the duos’ attention when he hissed with a feigned frustration and began to rummage with the pack slung around his torso.

When they quieted, Jedi’s attention returned to in front of him just as the transport rolled in – which was odd in and of itself as not many vehicles rolled on Coruscant. This one was a remnant of earlier times in the Republic. It linked major locations like the Jedi Temple, the Senate Building, the Galactic Museum, and the University of Coruscant that had been on the planet for generations. As the metropolis grew, swallowing up the planet in its entirety, all its outmoded infrastructure came under scrutiny, but the rail lines were kept for various reasons.

Some of the local politicians thought it would be good for the tourist, others thought they could be repurposed for moving supplies, and still others fought for the trains to keep the exactly purpose they were built for, a cheap and efficient way to move the near trillion residents of Coruscant.

Since hovering vehicles clogged the sky and Jedi found that many of the Coruscanti incapable of driving without distraction, this was his preferred mode of transportation. The hypnotic effect of the lights blurring into a simmering rainbow beyond the train’s windows was beautiful and very few people took the trains in the evening. Jedi crossed the platform in a few short strides when the cool automated voice announced for new passengers to board, ducking his head with the feathered crest atop it flattened in anticipation for the ride.

Settling in for his long ride through the canyonlike levels of the planet to return to the temple, Jedi allowed his gaze to become unfocused and the extraneous noises of his fellow passengers to fall into the background. Breath in… Breath out… Use this time to extend his mind and exercise his other senses. What was it that Master Yoda was always telling the padawans and younglings? Concentrate and-

“ALL ABOARD!”

Well, it was hard to concentrate when he had hypersensitive ears attuned to the minute sounds of light footfall in the underbrush. Jedi jolted in his seat, his auditory sense assaulted by two overlapping voices. The call made his ears ring unpleasantly and the flexible cartilage twisted backward and pressed flat against his head, his feathered crest puffing up in response and his pupils shriveling to the thinnest sliver. He took a deep breath, the ruffled plumage settling back. The words were still echoing off the walls as a figure nearly as tall as him strode the length of the platform, scanning for stragglers, which they kindly held the doors for, before entering the car. Four gray eyes taking count of the passengers inside and two mouths, one smiling and one frowning, relaying different information as they moved through the wide aisles.

“Please have your tickets! Tickets!”

“Yep! Tickets out please!”

It was not unusual to see an alien species with multiples of any limb really. There was so much diversity to be had in the galaxy, but Jedi had never seen a human that looked quite like this before. Two torsos erupting from the hips. Two heads. Four arms. Four eyes. Very clearly human though.

He broke his stare, recognizing that it would be rude, and fumbled in his pack for the data pad that contained his ticket information. There was an agreement between the government of Coruscant and the Jedi Council that all who trained at the temple received free passage on all public transport on the planet in exchange for protection that the presence of the Jedi provided simply by being present there at all.

“Thank you!”

The one in black on the right said, pressing a scanner to the data pad and removing it when it beeped. Jedi nodded, cocking his head with curiosity, which seemed to catch the attention of the humans.

“Is something wrong?”

The one in white on the left asked, mimicking Jedi’s motion unintentionally. He shook his head.

“I take this transport often and I have never seen you before. That is all.”

Basic had always presented a little trouble to him. It was often pointed out to Jedi that his speech was heavily accented, some of the grammar and syntax a little off from time to time. He had learned to speak Basic slowly for the sake of others on Coruscant just to avoid the reaction of polite annoyance - the rolling eyes when his gaze shifted, and they thought he didn’t see. Didn’t they understand that it was just as tedious as it was for him as it was for them? He at least bothered to try Basic for their sake, he was rarely offered the same courtesy. Around the temple, everyone seemed indifferent to his less than perfect Basic, taking most of his conversational cues from his expression rather than speech.

“Ah, that is because we were new to this route and shift! A last-minute schedule change that we are perfectly happy to cover for a fellow conductor who has fallen ill. A rather nasty case of Knytix Pox on a trip to Thyferra.”

“Yep. Covering a shift. Those pox are verrrrry contagious.”

Jedi replied with a wordless nod, looking them over with a casual eye and listening with a polite half-smile. Their clothes were what caught his notice. Tailored with extreme care and consideration for their condition. He admired the coats idly while stowing away the pad, only to find them still standing before him with looks of equal part curiosity and awe on their faces.

“Is something wrong?” “No – We’ve just never had the honor of running into a Jedi before. That is all.” Jedi blinked but beyond that did not permit his confusion to show. His lightsaber was out of sight, how had they – The man in black raised left hand as if to stop Jedi even before he said a word. “We overheard the gentlemen over there mumbling something about a lightsaber and looking your way.” “Mhm,” the white one hummed, grin widening into something bordering on mischievous, “They seemed concerned.”

“I see. I did not mean to cause a problem.”

Jedi trailed off, his ears twisting on top of his head as if to hone into the hushed conversation that the two aliens across the car seemed to be having about him, before falling silent when they were caught giving him furtive glimpses, and his glowing eyes connected with theirs with a hint of withering distain.

“You have not caused any problems at all! My brother and I are relatively new to Coruscant, there are not many Jedi roaming around Unova. We just moved from the mid-rim at the request of our employer.”

Jedi’s eyes returned to the humans in front of them with another faint smile. He liked their combined enthusiasm for their work.

“Cor-Union, right?”

“Yep! We worked on the trains in Nimbasa City.”

Jedi had never heard of Unova before, but there were countless planets in the mid-trim, far too numerous to be familiar with each and every one of them. He tilts his head, still offering them a cat-like smile – he considers asking about it simply because their enthusiasm is infectious, but he did not wish to interrupt their work.

“I wish you luck here on Coruscant. It can be quite the adjustment for some.” “Ah, yes. Our friend Elesa said the same thing!”

Jedi was delighted to see the man in black mirror his own expression. It was not quite a smile because it didn’t seem as though the man could smile – a sort of paralysis? – but it was the same smile that Jedi could manage that didn’t involve teeth. Others usually found his maw of teeth quite frightening. The humans’ gray eyes crinkled fondly with the mention of their friend, the man in white bearing a similar tenderness at the name.

They bid farewell with a synchronized tip of their hats and made their way down the car, asking for tickets to scan. Jedi would have just returned to watching the scenery, but one of the Czerialan – the one that smelt most heavily of alcohol from what his nose told him – decided that, instead of producing her ticket, she asked with a shrill cackle,

“What’re you? Half Troig or something?”

She clearly thought she was being hilarious, only strengthened by the fact that her companions also laughed.

“No.”

The one in white hissed, his smile not betraying just how he felt about the situation, but his tone was.

“Ticket, please.”

The other man said, whatever warmth in his voice from his conversation with Jedi turning ice cold and jagged with impatience that bordered on snarl. This was something they clearly were asked a lot, and something, Jedi had to suspect, that became more tedious to answer over time. He did not always understand humans, many of the knights or members of the High Council were human, like Masters Windu, and Kenobi – but human Jedi were not like other humans. Not all humans could tap into the Force, so what little reference that he had also intersected with something they were all intimately aware of and felt on a cellular level.

These men looked different than most humans, in some regards, as the Czerialan woman had said, they looked a lot like the Pollillus natives. Not the exact same orientation, but that hardly mattered to the intoxicated mind. They had just told him that they were from Unova. They clearly didn’t act, look, or speak like Troig would, so this woman seemed to be asking out of cruelty or at the very least insincerity.

It was easy to pick on outsiders.

Jedi knew that.

And he promised himself a long time ago that he would come to the aid of those experiencing such cruelties. The Jedi Order was supposed to protect and serve the people of the republic and the galaxy at large, but these were macro problems. There were many little problems in the galaxy. So much suffering and screaming that his satellite dish ears were able to pick up – All of it he just wanted to solve!

Master Yoda always warned about allowing emotion to override all else. Emotions were not inherently a good or bad thing, but they were delicate and could lead to irreversible consequences. Master Fisto, although distant with the younglings and padawans, had spoken to Jedi at length when he noticed how he teetered between his principles and the adherence to the code all the order were meant to follow.

When Jedi was offered private training with the Jedi Master, he jumped on the opportunity. Kit Fisto was a superior swordman within the order, some even rumored that he rivaled that of Master Yoda in terms of technical proficiency. The training was invigorating and exhausting all at the same time. It was not only training with the blade and of the body, but also of the mind and the Force.

“Injustice is injustice, no matter the size of the conflict – we can all acknowledge that. It is admirable how passionately you feel about these injustices and to what lengths you will go to aid those who face them.”

Jedi barely had time to parry the blazing green blade of Master Fisto, the heat of the plasma from the kyber-crystal nearly singeing his white fur and uncomfortably radiating up the metal that was his right arm. In this moment of distraction, his body was pushed back, his own lightsaber was knocked from his paws, and he landed flat on his back. Utterly defenseless even with his own natural weapons at his disposal.

“Emotion is a wonderful thing, but it can cloud the mind. It can interfere with your connection to the Force and leaves room for the Dark side to seize hold. Never stop your crusade of justice, young one. Let that fire inside you burn hot and bright, but never allow it to overwhelm and strip all else away… Do you understand?”

At the time, Jedi could not say he understood Master Fisto in his entirety, but he did now. Take control of those emotions, use them for good, and do not let them get out of control. Be passionate but balance it with perspective and reason. That was why he was told to discipline his mind.

Jedi took a slow breath through his nose; he did not think it was appropriate for him to step on their toes in this situation. Some people didn’t like the Jedi butting into their business, so he watched and waited for the appropriate moment where he might have to step in. The Czerialans continued to laugh, their tickets not out, and digging into the two conductors mercilessly with questions that would make anyone uncomfortable. It appeared as though the two men were attempting to ignore the questions, the one in black loudly exclaiming for their tickets over and over again only to be blatantly ignored.

“I am Emmet. You will have to get off.”

“He is right. If you have no valid tickets, we must ask you to get off at the next station or have a security droid remove you. Now, tickets, please.”

Jedi’s ears pinned back. How unfortunate that unruly and rude people were making their jobs so much harder. Soundlessly, he rose to his feet and approached the group, watching as, one-by-one, the Czerialans fell silent. He stood to his full height, his fur and crest fluffed out in a not-so-subtle intimidation tactic. A threat with no words.

“My apologies,” he managed to say in his silkiest Basic, “is there a problem, conductors?”

The two men shot him quick looks out of the corner of their eyes, Jedi noticed their eyes glowed like his. A wordless exchange passed between the three of them in the space of a heartbeat. Jedi recognized it as thanks for stepping in on their behalf as a sort of moderator before things had to get ugly.

“These passengers will not produce their tickets.”

The one in black said, his gaze moving back to the group of women seated before them.

“No ticket, no passage.”

Jedi nodded at the one who referred to himself as ‘Emmet,’ before addressing the Czerialan.

“Do you have tickets?” “Y-Yes!”

One of them squeaked, the ringleader, shrinking in her seat when all Jedi did was offer another nod and said coolly,

“Give the conductors your tickets, please.”

A moment later, the tickets were out and promptly scanned. Jedi returned to his seat without another word and the conductors took their leave toward the head of the train, only offering a silent double tip of their hats to him before the car door closed behind them.

It was about an hour later and the train was only a few stops away from the temple. He was alone in the car, all the other passengers having disembarked long ago, and Jedi was staring past his reflection to the skyline. The sky would have been a velvety black had it not been for the light pollution. The fused urban areas and megalopolises that made up the whole of Coruscant did not offer much of a view of its nighttime sky, just the bellies of looming ships that hung above the planet. The closest facsimile to stars and comets that the Coruscant natives ever saw were the twinkling flashes from orbiting satellites and the red and white streaks of landing lights through the air.

His mind was fuzzed out by the steady rhythm of the train gliding over the tracks, clacking with the same consistency of a metronome. It was mesmerizing. Listening to sounds from inside of the snaking metal beast, Jedi had the luxury to just allow his muscles to relax one by one and all his thoughts go quiet.

The car door opened, and his silence was instantly shattered.

“Master Jedi!”

His ears, already twisted to the new sound, flattened against his head and he inadvertently gnashed his teeth. Jedi knew they did not mean any harm, but conductor in black was so loud.

“The temple is the next stop.”

The one in white, Emmet, he had called himself, informed him with a pleasant smile. Jedi nodded acknowledgment.

“I am not a master but thank you for letting me know about my stop.”

He was quite aware his stop was fast approaching, but it was part of their job to make the passengers aware as they had done with the previous passengers in the car. He rose to his feet, expecting them to head back the way they came, but they remained where they were, looking a bit sheepish as they shifted on their joint feet. Jedi’s brow rose in question, waiting for them to volunteer, and Emmet cleared his throat,

“Thank you.”

“Yes, we wanted to thank you for intervening. The transition to Coruscant – ah…. It has its upsides and downsides. Most cannot wrap their head around our condition. Cor-Union usually keeps us on the dayshift to avoid situations such as this. Regardless, we appreciate your assistance.” “Of course.” Jedi said, understanding more than they could know. “It is my duty to help those in need.”

He was inexplicably charmed by the two, the small smile on his face genuine, as the train slows with its approach to the platform. Jedi easily remains upright, his tail acting as a counterbalance, as do the conductors, probably used to it from years of riding the rails.

“I am Emmet. Thank you for riding with us tonight!”

“We hope to see you again soon. Please, enjoy your evening.” “Likewise…”

Jedi pauses, waiting for the man in black to supply his name in the hanging silence.

“Ingo! Ingo Grey! This is my brother-”

“Full stop! Allow me to introduce myself, Ingo.” Emmet says with a furrowed brow, nudging his brother lightly in the rib which makes Ingo’s mouth twist up at the ends, a snort almost making it past his lips until he slapped a gloved hand other his mouth. “I am Emmet!” “Jedi.”

He replies with a little nod, which only earns him two slightly perplexed looks. Emmet and Ingo looked at each other briefly, their glowing eyes falling back on Jedi while they ushered him out to the platform. The temple rises beyond them, a mesa that stood tall around the neighboring buildings.

“What do you know, a Jedi named Jedi. Never seen that anywhere in the galaxy before.”

Ingo said, scratching his head under his hat. Emmet nodded. It was a long story and Jedi did not have it in him to explain at the moment, so he raised a paw in farewell.

“Emmet and Ingo Grey… It has been a pleasure to meet you both. May the Force be with you, good conductors.”

They offered a simultaneous nod and tip of their hats. Thanking him once more for the assistance, they look up and down the platform for any other passengers, call their signature, ‘All aboard!’, and clamber back into the car. The train whistles once and it hums with energy, but it darts off and out of the station.

#pokemon #submas #star wars #sw #jedi oc #not my character #secret santa

[threadsun]

Hello there! Had trouble coming up with a prompt for the game because I’m pretty sure they aren’t kinks at all, but heck I will try. Have two prompts. You can pick which one you prefer to go with.

The first one is: Ian. Being corrupted and mind destroyed into insanity. By Jack. And it’s so bad that Ian believes Jack is some kind of blessing being that he has a bizarre love for him which Jack finds cute. Well..almost. Cause no one will ever be as precious and sunshine and he broke him to be one step closer to sunshine/reader.

The second one:….James Sunderland. That’s it. It’s just the character James Sunderland. That’s the kink.

And yeah 😂😅

Anything can be a kink if you find it sexy~ speaking of, that first idea is very sexy imo >:3c

Content: mindbreaking, worship kink, praise kink

For the ask game

"Jack..."

Ian always sounds so... reverent when he says the name. Those empty eyes so full of love. That blank mind written over with only Jack. That heart, once vying for his Sunshine's love, now beating only for him.

Jack sighs. "What now?"

Ian's heart flutters at the acknowledgement, desperate to make it worth his while. "Your eyes are so pretty. And your nose... you have a really nice nose."

"My... nose?" That's a new one. In all of his lovesick, addlebrained ramblings, Ian had never mentioned his nose before.

"Your nose. Your whole face, really. And your body, you're so strong. And your hair is so soft... you're a god."

If Jack weren't preening at the praise, congratulating himself on so thoroughly removing the competition, he might have wondered if this was what his Sunshine feels like. Being followed around by someone so obviously smitten. So dedicated. So averse to leaving.

Instead, he basks in Ian's words. He half expects Ian to fall to his knees and pray. More of him than he'd care to admit is turned on by the though. The mental image of Ian, kneeling before him, singing his praises. A pliant and worshipful devotee, willing to do anything to please his god.

And it's true. His control over Ian's mind is so total, so complete, that Ian would do anything to please him. That's part of why Jack keeps him around. Keeps stringing him along like this.

"Cute." He lets Ian catch a glimpse of a smirk before he returns to his plans for his Sunshine.

That flash of an expression is enough to send Ian's heart pounding. That one word will keep him going for weeks. His god wasn't just acknowledging him. His god thinks he's cute. He can't imagine a pleasure greater than this.

As his eyes drift to Jack's picture of his Sunshine, Ian realises something. If he wants more of this, more praise and acknowledgement. If he wants to be free to worship his god... he needs to be Jack's sole focus.

By any means necessary.

#something's wrong with sunny day jack #swwsdj #sdj jack #sdj ian #sunny day jack x ian duff #18+ only #sunshine

[titleleaf]

Experiments In Early Victorian Skincare: Bone Marrow Hair Oil

(You can find previous posts on this topic here -- next up we've got some white salves.)

Okay, ngl, this is the part of my self-imposed mission that I have been considering with the most trepidation. Not because marrow oil is objectively, in some way, less clean or more gross than the other rendered animal fats used in hair and skincare products of the era -- I found the process of buying and preparing to handle these marrow bones to be surprisingly unsettling. Not anything about the purchasing process or sourcing beef bones, either, which was as normal and cordial as any other specialty meat purchase I might make -- all I can chalk it up to is looking at the bones themselves and being acutely aware that… hey… crack open my own femur and you'd find marrow there too. [CW for a lot of animal meat, bone, and fat to follow if you're squeamish or prefer to avoid it.]

Marrow holds a horror for me that I find hard to understand in any other terms than the knowledge that I, too, am made of meat -- fittingly given The Terror's themes of subsistence cannibalism, arbitrary European squeamishness, and the smudgy line between human and animal. (In the butcher's shop, one of my friends saw my squeamishness and leaned over to whisper "just pretend you're in The Terror!", so that's where my brand is at right now. She didn't even know about this whole project, just that I'm a ghoul.)

To get the marrow out of these bones, I effectively made the most gross, boring bone broth imaginable -- I pressure cooked the frozen marrow bones (maybe eight-inch lengths of some long cattle bone, around two and a half pounds) in six cups of water for four hours and let the pressure release naturally. When I opened up my Instant Pot, all the remaining shreds of flesh had cooked off of the bones and it was already looking rich and oily The smell of boiled bones isn't gross or repulsive in any way, but it doesn't smell exactly good either, and I made it worse by immediately splashing myself with still piping-hot boiled bone water. The first thing I realized after cussing and tending to the burn was that the remaining liquid was seriously fatty -- the few places it had splashed besides my bare hand were already congealing with milky-colored oil -- and that the cooked marrow slid out of the cylinder of bone all in one piece, no prodding necessary. The bones looked… about like I'd expect boiled beef bones to look, after growing up in a household full of big carnivorous dogs who liked to chew on bones and antlers and stuff, but the inside structures were surprisingly delicate and lacy.

I let the vile bone water cool and thanked my lucky fucking stars I wasn't having to eat plain bone water. My plan was to let the """""broth""""" cool in the refrigerator and then skim the fat from the top, discard any lingering meaty solids and liquid runoff, then melt and filter the rendered fat.

I poured it into a casserole dish to maximize the surface area and promised myself I would wait. I did not wait. I waited like, 4 hours, then broke the cooled layer of fat on top like a pane of ice, picked it off with a spatula, melted it down, and poured the resulting slurry of rendered fat and lingering meat debris into a jar. Including the slurry of meat debris, which rapidly sank to the bottom.

The oil… honestly was much less gross than the bone water had been. It's a nice rich yellow color when liquid and relatively odorless; what smell there was felt weirdly comforting, and then I realized I associate the smell of simmered bones and breaking-down collagen with Amish-style pot pie. (Not incidentally, also a dish that through long-term simmering transforms left-over bones and any lingering shreds of meat on them into a rich fatty broth.) It's hard to imagine a Victorian housewife or thrifty cook balking at any part of this. If I'd been born in 1815, this whole process would have been second nature to me, not a harrowing meat ordeal but a part of the practice of domestic economy. Kind of cool stuff.

I re-heated the oil in a water bath, filtered it through a coffee filter because I can't find my fucking cheesecloth and wasn't super relishing the thought of reusing fatty cheesecloth-- this may have been my undoing because it required several layers' worth of coffee filtering to keep the weight of the hot oil from just blasting through the seams. I was able to extract around four ounces of liquid fat, nearly halved, but a more efficient filter setup could have saved a good chunk of that. My hands got good and lubed up during the process and I really felt a kinship with Ishmael in his A Squeeze Of The Hand rhapsodies, as well as a genuine horror of how much cleanup this was going to take. Straight, I'd say this stuff is uncomfortably rich, and I don't know how easily it'd be absorbed into the skin.

(from Beasley's General Receipt-Book)

What to do with around four ounces of clarified beef marrow? I ended up going wit Beasley's recipe for marrow oil instead of the promised fluide de Java, not wanting to tinker with melting down wax, but not having a frame of reference for "the desired consistence" threw up a hurdle -- seeing it alongside hair oils it seemed reasonable to wager we're going for a consistency slightly more substantial than almond or olive oil alone. but still liquid at room temperature. (Liquid at polar temperatures, harder to say.) I went with a 1:1 ratio of clarified marrow to sweet almond oil, scented with clove bud, cedar, and sweet orange -- I had to go back to up the amount of fragrance after realizing quite how aromatic the marrow still was. (If I had my druthers, I love the smell of clove, but among essential oils it's particularly touchy due to its eugenol content so I kept things below the IFRA threshold for dermal use. If you make any kind of fragranced product, from apparel to solid perfume to baby wipes, you should check out IFRA's standards.

Some of the recipes I see in other texts suggest that the yellowness of marrow-based hair oils is a distinguishing quality, which might explain the use of olive oil in Beasley's fluide de Java recipe; at room temperature the mix has a pale yellow, cloudy consistency while remaining freely liquid. Frankly it still smells uncomfortably beefy. Later writer Arnold J. Cooley could have given me a better sense of the ratio of marrow to almond oil for a marrow-oil hair treatment -- he recommends 3 parts marrow oil to 8 parts almond.

If you're interested in somebody absolutely spilling the tea on the state of the Victorian hair oil retail market, his chapter on it is a treat. In particular he has a low opinion of fluide de Java:

If I were making this over again I'd probably hew to the Cooley measurements, the better to stretch the amount of marrow, and up the fragrance even further -- but I'm already dreading using this stuff on my hair.

#unnamed terror fandom beauty project #amc the terror #historical cosmetics #(hair care in this case)

[dirtytransmasc]

Finally Ro'eyk's part!

_

Z-dog didn't mind being assigned babysitting duty all that much, especially when it was Ro'eyk. She liked kids - and yeah, Ro'eyk was like 18, so not exactly a kid - and Ro'eyk was a nice kid, sweet too once you get past the general weirdness all three siblings have about them.

Ro'eyk was also the easiest of the kids to watch over since he was pretty content to just sit in one place and tinker with his little gadgets. Rävi wasn't particularly bad either, he was easily the calmest and most level-headed but after the last visit to Bridgehead where he graphically described how easy it would be to rip out a human's spine after some dumbass made a comment about flicking up Reyzì's loincloth, Z-dog was more than happy to let Lyle or Lopez babysit the oldest boy.

Reyzì was Reyzì. It was agreed that if the Colonel couldn't watch the girl, then Mansk would.

Z-dog liked Mansk, sure she heard the rumours about the guy, and she's seen him snap more than once, but he was a good guy, just got a very shitty and very fucked hand in life.

The kids got dealt with a similar hand too.

But at the end of the day, Mansk was the only one outside of Quaritch - or her siblings - that could rein Reyzì in, and frankly, Z-dog was pretty sure the girl had a crush on Mansk.

"Fuck!"

The hissed curse broke Z-dog away from her inner thoughts, and she looked down at Ro'eyk, who was sitting crisscrossed beside her on the ground, who was fiddling with a long metal tube with a bunch of wires inside.

"What'ca doing kid?"

"Making an EMP."

What the fuck did he just say?

Z-dog abandoned the bubble she was blowing, suddenly at attention as she looked more closely at the device in Ro'eyk's hands. Crouching next to him, careful not to get too close as they long learned that touching the boy without warning didn't usually end well, and lowering her voice - both to remain unheard but to also sound comforting.

"An EMP?"

"Yeah, an electromagnetic pulse device."

The calmness with which he said it was unnerving, it reminded Z-dog of the frigid and steady tone she heard Rävi use when threatening that human worker, or the almost sweet but too sharp smile Reyzì did.

"Can I ask why you're making one?"

Ro'eyk stared her in the eye.

It was unsettling, the kid never looked anyone in the eye and now that he was - big amber eyes that bore into her yellow ones - a sudden shiver shot up the marine's spine.

"To take out Bridgehead's life support systems if necessary. Don't worry, I won't set it off unless Ardmore tries to put Spider back in that machine."

Z-dog really fucking hopes that the General doesn't do that because right now, she's pretty sure this 'sweet kid' has zero qualms with causing a practical genocide.

_

If Lieutenant Nikita 'Z-dog' Zdinarsk never mentioned the EMP, or the fact it wasn't on Ro'eyk when leaving Bridgehead, that was something between her, god, and the boy whose idle fingers made explosives.

I think the msot terrifying thing about the siblings is that ro'eyk, despite being the least imposing of the siblings by first glance, he is without a doubt the most deadly.

he's the one who feels no sense 'connection' towards his victims. reyzi feels hot boiling rage towards her victims, Ravi feels cold controlled wrath; but both of those things have to run out eventually, they can't last forever. but Ro'eyk feels nothing, he is capable of genocide, and not feel a thing, he can't burn out, there is nothing to run out; there is no need for a drive of any sort, cause to him, killing a perceived enemy is just the same as taking out the trash.

reyzi and ravi are also both vaugly personal killers, they want to be smeared in the blood of their victims, they want to smell their fear and watch the light leave their eyes. even if they plunge into the battlefield, it is still on some level personal.

ro'eyk on the other can, takes his victims out from the distance, preferably with no mess on his hands, so he builds bombs and EMP's capable of leveling whole buildings or wiping out a whole system's air supply like its a model toy, no stress. that's what makes him so utterly terrifying.

and despite that, even if a little part of her knows to fear him enough to make sure she doesn't get on his bad side, she's still her little guy.

also "the boy whose idle fingers made explosives," is such a good fucking line oh my god, its stuck with me since I read it.

#spellman siblings #z dog #zdog #recom z dog #recom zdog #mama bear zdog #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #my little sociopath <3

[magalidragon]

lady of the night | a smutty Jonerys Hollywood Drabble 💫 📸

For @youwerenevermine and her eternal love of manwhore Jon, who I love too but always with a twist 😂 And it is over the drabble word count (3100) so I’ll post on AO3 soon.

"Jon! Jon! Over here!"

"Jon, we love you!"

"Lord Commander! Look this way!"

The sounds of people screaming his name as he left the awards show afterparty were annoying buzzes in his ear, especially after several whiskeys-- and maybe a hit of something else, he wasn't sure what he'd taken-- although it didn't make it less loud. If anything the buzzes seemed magnified tonight. Jon blinked against the camera flashes, a horde of paparazzi on the street, just beside the roped off crowd of fangirls and professional autograph chasers.

Normally he'd just wave, maybe even smile-- most likely not now because he was so buzzed-- carrying on with his plan to get from the club to the waiting black SUV which would whisk him back to his suite at The Sunspear, which was the toniest and fanciest of the hotels in Sunspear, Dorne. He only showed up in Dorne when he was meeting with executives, filming if necessary, or forced to attend these events, whether they be networking or awards shows.

He was in town for the Golden Kingdom awards, putting in his contractual appearance as one of the "ensemble" of The Steel Throne cable fantasy series. He was nominated this time around, for the final season, and he had no idea why. His role had been reduced to nothing more than window dressing and he had only a handful of lines he mostly delivered in a flat wooden voice because he really couldn't be bothered to put in anything else. It really was his last bit of "fuck you" to the writers and producers who had destroyed a character he'd come to consider a part of himself.

And somehow he got a nomination for an award. He was crossing his fingers that he'd lose and thank the gods he did. He wasn't even at hsi table when they called his category, he needed a smoke break.

As always happened when he left clubs and his publicist-- shitty little cretin Tyrion Lannister-- called ahead for photographers and tipped off Instagram celebrity spotting pages, he was swarmed. He paused as the SUV pulled up to take him away, lighting a cigarette. He glanced out of the corner of his eye and took pity on several of the people calling his name, because they looked young and naive enough to think he deserved to be famous.

Plus they didn't have the look of girls who wanted to come home with him, which was nice. He ignored Tyrion, who was tugging on his arm to drag him back, and waved at his "date" to the awards and the parties, his beastly friend Tormund who was leering at some of the poor girls, and approached the line.

He stuck his lit cigarette in his mouth when he got to the line, randomly scribbling his name on shirtless pictures of him from his modeling days or promo shots of him as Lord Commander Cregan Snow. He would have preferred it if someone had brought up the cartoon character of the same name. He was gunning to voice that dude in the animated movie he'd heard was in production, but seemed his agent Davos wasn't keen on him attaching his name to a children's fantasy series.

“You don't have the greatest of reputations, son."

It was all a matter of perception, he thought, and somehow he'd fooled even Davos.

As he scribbled his name on one last photo of his shirtless, oiled up body from a blockbuster he’d done in his early acting days, turning his face briefly to blow smoke away from the crowd, he caught sight of a woman with curly dark pink hair.

Pink. That was a new color, one he hadn’t seen before. He ignored the screams of the girls; at least two shoved their numbers into his hand, which was still outstretched for another photo to sign. He scribbled something akin to his name on this one and waved, stepping backwards from the throng of fans. He sucked on the cigarette a moment, his gray eyes sweeping the crowd again, until he spotted her again.

The pink haired woman blinked at him, cocking her head and coyly pointed her finger at herself. She smiled, long and slow, and he noted that her eyes were a curious coloring. She had one green eye and one blue. He had never seen that before either. He blew out more smoke, licking his lips and flicked ash off his cigarette, his gaze never wavering from her.

She had on a deep pink halter top with a pair of barely there black shorts she’d put on over black tights, a pair of heavy platform black boots, and a black leather jacket. The shirt was cut, jagged, giving a glimpse of her taut midriff. The dark hair with pink streaks was wavy around her face and scattered with tiny braids.

He didn’t blink and pointed at her, before gesturing towards the car. She giggled and pointed to herself, mouthing “Me?”

“You,” he mouthed back. He turned, not waiting, and went to the waiting car. Davos was standing there, already on his phone. “She’s with me,” he said, before Davos could stop security from keeping the woman from going to the SUV.

Davos sighed and said nothing. He shoved his phone in his jacket pocket and turned without a word, going off to his car.

Jon climbed into the SUV after the woman, ignoring the sobs of his name from the dejected crowd. He slammed the door shut and turned to her, taking her in again, this time face-to-face. She had pale skin, her cheeks flushed pink, and there was a tattoo creeping out from the top of her shorts. “Wow,” she giggled. “This is really insane! Jon Snow!”

“That’s me.”

“Sooooo dreamy,” she giggled, leaning against him. She licked her lips and her tongue wagged, a pink stone in the center of it. He twitched in place, already growing hard at the prospects of what that little tongue and stone could do when placed in certain areas. She dragged a pink fingernail on his collarbone, dragging it over his exposed chest. “You’re shorter in real life.”

He smirked. “Not the best way to start off a convo, babe.”

“Babe?” She wrinkled her pert nose. “Not a fan of that.”

“Sweetie?”

“Ew.”

He reached behind her head and tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her against his chest and rubbing his lips over hers. “How about your name?”

“It’s…” She trailed off and shrugged. “Whatever you want it to be.”

He laughed. That was new too. “You’re usually better prepared. Pink, huh?”

“THought I’d try something new.” She straddled his hips, pushing his shoulders into the buttery leather seat behind him. Her hips swiveled against his and he groaned, unable to stop his hands from finding her hips,pulling her closer. She pressed a kiss to his mouth, hot and open, before jerking back and gagging. “Disgusting.” She swatted his chest. “No fucking smoking!”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s a stress reliever!”

“I thought I was your stress reliever.”

“You tend to give me more stress.”

She pulled a mint out of her pocket, popping it into his mouth. He crunched hard on it and swallowed quickly, eager to get back to her, but they were already at the hotel. Fuck, he thought, glancing between them at the heavy bulge in the front of his pants. She smirked again, tapping his nose. “Ill walk in front of you.”

“Much obliged.”

They exited the SUV, thankfully only a couple of photogs across the street who snapped some what he knew would be blurry unidentifiable photos— he’d gotten good at this in the last decade— of the two of them hurrying into the hotel.

He selected this hotel because it was discreet, which was very needed given his ah… <I>proclivities.</i> Or what the world thought were his proclivities. He jabbed the elevator button, his nose in line with the top of her pink hair. He inhaled deeply, sighing out the exhale. “You smell like peaches.”

“It’s the shampoo.”

“I like it.”

The doors dinged open and they stumbled in, barely waiting for them to close before he had her pressed up against the back, her surprised gasp caught in his mouth as he kissed her. He noted that she even tasted like peaches. Or he could have been making that up between the booze making it’s way through his system.

She hiked her leg around his hip and he dove his fingers down to unzip her shorts, finding that her tights were actually stockings, the garter hidden. “Oh seven hells,” he groaned, feeling her desire already seeping against his fingers, hot and slippery. She was starkers too, which caused his cock to twitch in his pants. “You’re all ready.”

She choked out a throaty laugh. “You know what I like.”

“Gods, I can’t wait…” He turned to hit the stop button but it was too late, the doors already opened onto the penthouse floor. He fumbled in his pocket for his key card, tripping out and down the hall to his room.

She was behind him, sucking on his earlobe while he tried to swipe the key. Her hands were in his pants, fast and warm, the first touch of her fingers around his cock almost causing him to explode right there. He growled. “Fuck!”

The door burst open and they fell into the room. He tripped on his pants, already at his knees courtesy of her stealthy moves. He ripped off her jacket and yanked at the halter, the fabric falling forward and exposing her perfect breasts to his hungry eyes. And mouth.

He eagerly kissed her, hands grasping the soft globes, squeezing and flicking at her nipples, furling them into tight pink buds against his fingertips. “You’re gorgeous,” he mumbled, pressing her to the wall near the suite’s bedroom. They were definitely not going to make it there.

“Full of compliments, aren’t you?” She gasped, his lips folding over one nipple, his fingers tweaking the other. One of her hands tangled in his hair and the other was between them, pumping his cock. “Seven hells Jon. Fuck me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

With one fast drop to his knees to swipe his tongue on her slit, teasing at her little clit and dipping his fingers in to test her readiness, he was satisfied. Her nails dug into his shoulders, tearing at his jacket and dress shirt. He struggled to get them off, buttons flying in all directions when they finally gave up and just tore the damn thing.

The designer would have to understand. It was a life or death situation at this point. She scattered kisses along his collarbone while he shoved his briefs down and kicked them off, her legs up over his elbows, her abs flexing as he pressed her harder against the wall, searching for her lips.

He had no idea at what point she’d taken off her shorts, but they were gone, only her stockings and garters on. He slid against her, the head of his cock bumping her clit. “Oh fuck,” she groaned, hitting her head against the wall. “So good…who knew?”

Jon tangled his tongue with hers, tilting her hips so he could line up and a second later, punch his hips up, cock sliding into her plush, molton heat. His eyes rolled back in his head, her body squeezing around him, pulsing and tight. “Shit,” he mumbled, forehead touching hers. He let go of one leg, his hand cupping hee face, rough fingertips scratching against her soft cheek. “I think we can give up the act.”

She laughed, her tongue barbell tapping his lower lip. “Not yet. Show me your talents Jon Snow. I’ve always wanted to know.” She gasped, eyes slamming shut when he thrust back, almost pulling out before he bottomed out into her in a hard, powerful thrust.

They said no more, just curses and shouts of Valyrian from her and gasping grunts from him as he fucked her hard against the wall. Her nails ripped at his hair with one hand and held her leg up with the other as he pressed his thumb between them against her clit, just when he knew she was about the topple over the cliff.

She screamed, coming so hard around him she triggered his release, his heart stopping as he shuddered around her, clutching her limp body to keep from dropping her. He came and came, seeing stars as he emptied himself into her. “Fuck,” she sighed, after he finally finished, his breath ragged gasps into her throat.

They slid down the wall onto the cool floor, a heap of clothes, sweaty limbs, and sex. He kept his eyes shut a moment, trying to return to his body. She kissed him and patted his cheek. “I’ll show myself out.”

He weakly reached for her, but she was gone in a flash, clothing on and door shut after her. “Fuck,” he mumbled, scrubbing his face. He stood slowly, his mind foggy. He blinked a few times to right himself and went to the bathroom to clean up.

A piss and hot shower later, he was walking out of the bathroom to collapse into bed, when he heard the TV going in the bedroom. He chuckled, scrubbing a towel through his hair, another tied around his waist. Jon padded into the bedroom, in time to see his ex-wife shrieking at something.

It was on the television but still made his balls shrivel up inside of him. “What the fuck is this?” he demanded, tossing the towel aside.

His girlfriend of almost a year, Weateros’s Sweetheart and all around good girl Daenerys Targaryen, who no one would ever have pinned as his one and only, the love of his life, and the only woman he had been with in at least two years since he divorced said ex-wife, was curled on the massive bed in a t-shirt with his character’s face on it, slurping an ice cream sundae.

She smiled innocently around her spoon. “I can’t help it, I like watching shitty television.”

“Can we not watch her show? It’s horrible.”

“I like it! It’s good bad tv.” She tucked a faded pink strand of hair behind her ear, patting the space beside her. “Come on, let’s have a game. Whenever she makes a constipated face or that guy shows up naked, we’ll drink.”

“We will be drunk in ten seconds.” He climbed into the bed anyway, dragging her over to him and allowed her to feed him bites of ice cream before he could stand no more of his ex’s face. “This is too much I’m changing the channel!”

Dany whined, trying to grab the remote. “Oh come on!”

Jon flicked the channel in time to see her face take up the screen. He grinned. “Ah, now it’s your stuff.”

She stuck her tongue out and then shook her head. “No, it’s not my movie, it’s a post awards show gossip fest.”

They watched for a few minutes— she had been declared one of the best dressed for her red plunging neckline dress which they all declared was Daenerys “stepping out of her good girl shell.”

“If only they knew you dressed up as different women and pretend to be a fan girl,” he mused. It was a kink they’d discovered on accident, but one they loved to indulge in, especially Dany. It worked for them both. She could exercise her inner bad girl and he got to look like the whorish bad boy that had made him famous.

Too bad no one knew he’d rather spend his nights in bed eating ice cream with her watching bad TV. He was the opposite of a whore, but hey, it made him famous. He was just sick of it. “What are you thinking about,” she mused, tapping the frown between his brows. “What’s this here?”

He shrugged. “Guess I’m tired of being Man Whore Jon.”

“Jack.”

“Huh?”

“Online they call you Jack. It’s your whore alter ego.” She nipped his bottom lip and reached for her phone, bringing up a blog. “See?”

“Get off the internet Dany it will ruin your brain.”

“Oh shit.”

“Huh?” He was looking at his phone now, Davos sending a few messages they had to talk about revamping his image.

She shoved her phone under his nose. It was a gossip Instagram, Lantaissa. People dropped celebrity sightings there and send in blinds. He peered at it, squinting since he’d taken out his contacts in the shower. “What’s it say?”

“Anon please! I have MAJOR NEWS. I JUST saw Lord Commander Jon Snow and goodie two shoes Daenerys Targaryen at the Sunspear Tower. She had pink hair but it was DEF her and they were getting in the elevator together and were super handsy!”

Dany groaned. “Ugh this is NOT how I wanted us to get out!” It could work though, he thought. They’d have to figure it out with the PR teams but it could work. He took the phone from her and tapped on the submit button. “What are you doing?” she demanded. She leaned over his shoulder, chuckling after a moment. “Oh Jon Snow, you crafty little wolf.”

Using a fake email he’d had set up for exactly these PR purposes, because Davos made him, he submitted the “anon please” and then using his phone, texted Davos his image control would be handled.

After a few minutes, he frowned again and looked up at her. She was staring at the TV, her blue and green contacts out. He flicked one of the pink curls. “You sure you want to tie yourself to me?” he wondered. “I don’t have the best rep.”

“Jon I love you, I don’t care.” She kissed him softly, smiling and arched a brow. “I just open us being a public thing soon enough won’t upset our little rendezvous.”

He laughed. They’d snuck around like this for this long. “You might have to upgrade to some elaborate wigs instead of hair coloring.”

“I have a whole closet full.”

“Also you didn’t have a name picked out tonight, threw me off guard.”

“I was in a hurry to get out of that loaned awards dress and into my costume.”

He smiled, pulling her down for a quick kiss. He sighed. “I love you Dany.”

“Your lady of the night,” she teased. “Is that what they call the girls lucky enough to fuck Jon Snow?“

“You tell me, you’re the only one lucky enough for that.”

She giggled and pulled him up over her, sighing happily as he kissed down her neck. “Hmm, yes, lucky me.”

THE END

#jonerys #jonerys au #my fics #my moodboards #jonerys fanfic #smutty drabbles #for Erika lol

[themarginalthinker]

Hi,

How's the holiday going?

Still can't get over this thing was Jen and Fen.

They sound so sweet, hope I see them in fic soon. so few questions -

Were they married before vampirism?

How did they meet?

Were the hometowns and families ok with their sexualities (homophobic neighborhood or family)?

Did they want kids when not kindred? Did any of your ocs have kids?

Are any of your characters neurodivergent, what do they think of neurodivergence (I know canonically Nosferatu are quite welcoming over them and even sire from them. Except Kaiser is a dick)?

Lastly what do your nossies think of rabbits? Had to ask that question as I'm a bunblr.

Lastly question for you-

What pets do you like or have?

Sorry for 20 questions here :b

Omg lmaoo every day I see yall slide into my dms and I'm like 'ok, how close much can I infodump about my insane little ocs before I spoiler my own story XD'

(My vacation is going well! Excited for fireworks tomorrow WOOO (even though America is doing very, very little for us to be actually proud of.. -_-)

I think...I shall give you a little sliver of an excerpt from their meeting fic/chapter (haven't decided yet if it's going to be its own thing, or if it will just be a non-Charlie pov chapter yet):

The water was more than mud and rain. In the back of his throat, he can taste blood, but God only knew if that was from coughing up bits of his insides when the gas hit, or if it was the gaping, seeping wound the shrapnel had left.

At least it's not raining now, Fen thinks, staring up from his twisted position. The stars, Lord bless them all, were out and shining brighter than he thinks he's ever seen them.

It figures, one could only find this beauty at the bottom of a trench.

And it is because the sky is so clear, and the stars so vivid, and the moon hiding behind her black veil this time of the month, that he sees the outline of a figure pass over them, at the top of the embankment wall.

Walking in the no-man's land.

;)

-

Jen and Fen were both single when they met. The both of them probably knew by the point they were embraced that they...likely were never going to be men who married. 'Life-long bachelors', a nice way to say it (and in those days, plausible deniability...) Jen especially, given that he was living in rural Appalachia when he was alive (I'm thinking West Virginia, the heart of the coal mining industry in America even today). Their families knew nothing of their preferences towards the same sex, given that sex at all was wasn't discussed outside of what was totally necessary.

One of my ocs has had a child, and was married before they became a Kindred. It's a rather large point of contention in their backstory, but oh, I shan't say who ;>

As far as neurodivergence goes, if you weren't before you were embraced, well buddy, get fuckin ready for THAT experience afterwards lmao. But more practically, yes, I do. My first ever vtm oc Rigby Bennet the Malkavian was schizoaffective and likely on the autism spectrum before being embraced, but had managed to do some university schooling before he met his sire...and things went downhill... I think Nos, Malks, and Gangrel tend to pull from the 'looked over' branches of society, knowing that it could be a chance at a new life, even a reprieve in some ways from the harshness of mainstream society. Not to mention, they're already seen as on the fringes of even Kindred society. I think certain clans tend to group together, even going so far as cohabitating in certain cases. Zephyr has what the others refer to as 'her Malks' which is that she specifically cultivates relations in the local Malk clan of the city. She enjoys hanging out with them, and hey, even disjointed information is still information.

This is also a whole other rant I could go on, but I think in a sense, some clans handle the fact that neurodivergence doesn't magically go away with Embrace, or that is exists at all, better than others.

Sorry if this isn't very coherent, it's early lol.

Do my Nossies think of bunnies:

-Charlie: thinks they're very cute and soft!! She loved holding them when she went to the state fair with her Dad! However...now, she may decide they are good for a monch. BUT ONLY IF THEY'RE NOT SOMEONE'S PET!!!

-Blue: ....well. They're cute. Why are they here though? Are we ghouling rabbits now? Doesn't seem like the most economic animal to add to the hoards, but sure...

-Tweak is Concerned that there's so many types. Why? It's just rabbits! NO CHARLIE, I DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHAT THEIR SPECIFIC COLOR COMBINATIONS ARE CALLED, STOP-

-Zephyr: has ghouled the rabbits and has sent them in a flood to chase Tweak. Look at him run. >:3

-

As for my pets: I currently only have an outdoor cat, but we used to have three in the house, as well as three dogs, a goldfish, and a hamster. Along with the barn animals lol. I do want to move into a place that allows pets, though. I want a cat, and a snake. (Ball python!)

#answered asks #this warren #vtm #vampire the masquerade #jen and fen

[orbmanson7]

So I don't know why I'm thinking about CLBG at 4am but it resulted in thoughts on Roman angst and how they'll probably have to eventually resolve the absolute mess that's been made over the course of the series

The answers can be found in the episode CLBG.

In the episode, Thomas and Roman act out various scenes to help him lie but the part to focus on is the role assignment near the start of the scene.

Virgil and Logan are pushed to the back, and this isn't necessarily a bad thing because both of them (left brain bros) prefer to be out of the limelight anyway, merely providing assistance.

Then Roman says that he's "basically Orson Welles" to explain his roles are director, actor, and writer. He's then guilted into giving Patton the director role, and this is what is significant!

Because in this particular scenario? Patton doesn't know much of anything about lying, he doesn't care for lying on principle, so Roman taking the reins in this one would have made more sense, but Patton snatches that top role away, thanks to he (and Thomas) guilting Roman into handing it over. And then what does Patton do? Mostly sit in the audience and enjoy the show, occasionally calling out when Thomas does something wrong.

Now it's hard to fully analyze this analogy because we, the audience, know that Patton is actually Janus in disguise throughout most of the episode. But I think Janus playing into Patton's part of an overbearing morality was so well done that the others didn't notice until so much later on, which just goes to show how (mostly) accurately he was portrayed.

The reason this is Roman Angst™ is because Roman is taking on the spotlight with Thomas all on his own. Patton gets big credit as director, sure, but Patton isn't the one on stage. It's just Roman, creating and acting his heart out just for Thomas. He gives literally everything, his whole being, all to Thomas to be able to do this. And, from his perspective, he knows he can't actually do it alone, he needs Virgil handling the stressful stuff, battling away the stage fright and dealing with the inner machinations of handling lights, sound, props, standing on your mark, etc. These put Virgil in a more prominent position in order for Roman to be able to do his job(s) properly, which is concerning because that's a lot of work for Virgil to handle, too, especially as Literal Anxiety.

And then we have Logan, relegated to being stage manager/dramaturg. While this role suits him well, his job is quite literally to keep everyone on track and make sure they are following the script. If something goes wrong, it's meant to be his job to delegate another person to fix it quickly and efficiently. The only major problem shown in this scene, though, involves Virgil searching for a missing prop, which Roman was the one who demanded its necessity for the scene, not Logan (probably because it wasn't actually necessary). In essence, Logan doesn't really fulfill his stage manager duty during this scene, he almost entirely fills the role of a dramaturg. And while it's important and nice to have one, dramaturgs are often considered excessive in productions, only there to provide tidbits of information, should anyone choose to need it. Not a great sign for Logan's overall role in the series, that's all I'm saying.

Next, we're onto Patton as director. Like I mentioned before, he guilts Roman into giving him the role but then hardly used it to do much beyond criticizing Thomas, which is about 1:1 how it works for the rest of the series. Patton is very strict with Thomas but he also doesn't fully understand why, creating contradictions, even all the way back in CLBG, that are hard for Thomas to follow, leading to inevitable failure. And who takes on that failure? Mostly Thomas' ego - Roman.

Those failures are seen as fixable mistakes that Logan then attempts to remedy, by delegating or stepping in to assist, but because no one wants his help, he can only provide facts that the others rarely want to hear. This causes repeated failures because the problems aren't being resolved, which puts Virgil in a downward spiral, attempting to handle all the things going wrong, and feeling as though it's his own fault, when it's actually a culmination of factors that have led up to that point.

If Patton offered genuine direction (and maybe earned his role instead of demanding it) and explained what Roman and Thomas should try to do and not be so strict, constantly telling them what they do wrong instead of letting them feel out the space until they figure it out, then this would result in Roman's self-esteem improving phenomenally. He also should maybe relinquish a bit of that overwhelming control that he has, and allow not only Thomas but also the other sides to give their opinions more. Patton shouldn't be the only side with the final say, it should be more of a group effort, so he needs to learn to share and be more willing to listen to what others have to say.

Meanwhile, if Roman would allow others to have some input into his role of creating, acting, writing, etc. then he may feel less burdened and less helpless overall. He won't have to fully rely on everyone else (mainly Virgil) to help him complete his job, he could consult others and incorporate more ideas, flex his creativity without having to feel like it's an end-all be-all requirement. Additionally, this may improve his confidence, especially if he can earn praise from the others. He deserves appreciation for what he does for Thomas, and because of Thomas' choice in career, he is always going to have a very big part to play, but if he maybe shared that stage with a certain brother of his, he could better incorporate those new ideas and have a fellow creative to bounce his work off of, allowing him to meet new heights of creativity while also giving him a little less spotlight to stand under. He may not want that, since he enjoys his spotlight, but he genuinely needs at least a tiny bit less of that burden on himself. He needs to be able to take breaks, and if the others can play a more active role to better assist him, then he can finally do that.

Next, Logan needs more authority (and, really, more respect) than he currently has. His job is to keep them on schedule, but because of the chaos and unbalanced roles throughout, his job is nearly impossible to accomplish. He can tell them what to do, but he can't make them do it. If they listen to what he's saying and try to properly understand and incorporate what he's telling them, then things would absolutely run a lot smoother. Unfortunately, this would require Logan standing up for himself and maintaining a proper level of respect from Thomas and the other sides, which doesn't exist in the series at the moment.

But that's not the only problem. Logan is also not meant to have any spotlight, he's meant to delegate his tasks so that others can take up their roles when needed. Instead, because they are so busy, needed for other things, or just don't want to do it, Logan has been taking on these tasks himself instead of delegating, because it won't get done at all if he doesn't. So, he will need to stop micro-managing, giving up what little control he does have, but only if it is then properly replaced by the others listening when he speaks and taking on those tasks when assigned. If he gives up all control and the others don't take up the mantle to do their part of the job, the job will simply go unfinished and the chaos will become immensely worse. There's a lot of give and take needed for Logan's role to be successful, and right now, it will be a delicate operation to get it in working order.

And then there's Virgil, who is mostly left with all the operational tasks the right brain guys don't want to do, and since all the other parts of the production have already gone to hell, Virgil is in a constant state of stress, dealing with the aftermath. Virgil needs some order to be introduced, less chaos and mistakes, just so he can have a moment of reprieve to collect himself and then keep trekking on. He can fulfill this role, but it would probably be a lot easier if he wasn't required to do it alone. Having an extra hand or two to keep everything running smoothly would be benefit him greatly, and to not only keep an eye on how everything is running, recognizing if something has gone wrong (or how it might soon), but to help keep Thomas calm and less anxious - almost like someone who would put Thomas' priorities first, someone who cares about Thomas' self-preservation (and also maybe has extra arms), perhaps?

Additionally, Virgil needs to be willing to ask for help and be a little more forthcoming when he thinks something is wrong. He's gone into older habits more recently in the series, hiding away from Thomas instead of handling stressful situations, which is negatively impacting Thomas and the others in result. If the lighting guy were to make a mistake during a production and instead of fixing it and moving forward, he just disappeared where no one could find him, it wouldn't solve anything. The show would just be stuck until someone else tried to fix it or they found the lighting guy and tried to help him fix it, letting him know he can ask for help or rely on others to provide assistance when needed.

Virgil needs to be made aware that he has supports to lean on, but then he also needs to be willing to lean on them when the time comes.

This will help keep him (and Thomas) calmer and less stressed, while also feeling supported, and still fulfill the needed roles to keep things running smoothly.

Overall, the current production (aka Thomas' state of mind) is a torrent of chaos. If he's going to rely so much on his sides to help him out, he needs to properly listen to all of them, even the ones he would rather pretend didn't exist.

Tldr; in order for things to improve, Patton needs to be less strict, Roman needs to let others help him, Logan needs to be listened to, and Virgil needs to be made aware he is supported and then let others help him, too. Remus and Janus also need to be included in ways where they can help and not constantly be pushed away.

I guess we'll just have to wait and see what happens, though.

#sanders sides #clbg #roman angst #orbs thought bubbles #long post #watch none of their problems be resolved though by the end of the series #especially Logan's #ss #sanders sides analysis

[eggoatt]

Hi! I know I left a comment on my reblog, but I felt the need to send something a little more heartfelt. I'm going to try to be normal about this lol

That picture you drew was the first thing I saw this morning, and it has been sitting on one of my monitors ever since, just so I can glance at it any time I want—which quite honestly has been incredibly frequent.

It might seem like I'm a little too excited about this, but it's a huge deal to me. Before I started putting fics out (just south of a year ago now) I hadn't written anything in nearly a decade, so I didn't really have any expectations for what I put out. Of course, I thought about how cool it'd be if someone drew something directly inspired by something I wrote, but I always considered that a kind of a lofty thing? Would be nice if it happened, but I wasn't expecting it. And if it did happen, it'd probably happen much later on when I'm a little better at writing.

All of that to say this is the first time I've inspired anyone to make art from my material. That means so much to me and I am unbelievably grateful to you for that. Also, WOW, it's from someone who has also drawn one of my absolute most favorite SciSet pics ever too?? I adore the way you draw Sunset, so when I saw this was from you I actually gasped so loud my wife heard me from the other room lol.

I mentioned this briefly in my reblog, but I really love the way this picture is composed. When I write scenes, they tend to play out in my mind in full motion with great detail, so what I envision can be incredibly specific, yet I really feel like you managed to capture details I hadn't really put words to. The color scheme in particular—lots of blues and purples, but with just the right amount of saturation to match the pink. Visual arts are not my forte, so I apologize if that doesn't make the most sense.

Lastly, I would like to ask just a couple things:

Would you be alright with me posting a blog about this on fimfic? This might seem like kind of a weird question, but I always like to make sure I clear this kind of thing with someone first. Naturally your username and links to everything would be prominently featured.

May I put this in the author's note of Chapter 8(b)? Just like before, your username and links will be prominently featured alongside it (also, if you'd like to send me a watermarked version, I'd be alright with putting that up too). I just really love this picture and would love it to be the way people visualize that part of the chapter, but I want to make sure that's alright with you first, and I also want to make sure you get the credit you deserve.

Anyway, I won't ramble any longer than necessary. Sorry for throwing a book in your inbox, but thank you for the picture, and for ensuring that no matter what else happens today, I have something to be happy about 🥰

hi!!

we've actually been mutuals for a little while (you reblogged something of mine, and i liked your taste in horse content) but back in april by complete coincidence i stumbled across your fimfic account as well and kind of fell in love with your work. the way you write sunset, your inner voice for her, speaks to me on an insane level to the point where it's informed some of my personal projects (ocs) a bit. i also really enjoyed seeing how rapidly and drastically your writing had improved over the works you had up at the time-- it made me really excited to see what you would do in the future! i even made a new account and started using the site again just so i could keep up :3 if nothing else, you've touched this creature's heart very deeply

like i said in the original tags, i've been meaning to make fanart of this scene for MONTHS and finally releasing those brainworms felt a bit like an exorcism, lol. i'm so happy i hit the mark and brought you as much joy as you've brought me !!!!

to answer your questions!:

sure!! it is fanart For You after all

same as above, go for it :3 (it is actually watermarked already! i prefer making it difficult to see so it's not distracting. take a closer look at sunset's elbow)

silly bonus trivia about the drawing: i needed a visual reference to help me with the poses, and the best ref i found just so happened to be a picture with obama in it. it's not my fault they look so tender

#woofbarkmeow

[basiliskinmybed]

hi, you don’t need to post a response to this. just read it at least please. sorry this is long, i’m not going to send you hate or a bunch of angry messages like you might be getting, i just want to share my opinion with you. i thought it was interesting that you mentioned KBS (the fanfic, not sure if the author wants it in this conversation or not so i’m abbreviating the name). the cultish behavior that harry disapproved of in the story also included spreading negativity about the work of authors who really didn’t ask for it in a community that also did not really ask for it. i think that is where people were upset with you, because it opened a conversation of mocking what other people like under the guise of criticism/personal preferences. sort of similar to the people sharing hate in that story’s discord server under the guise of trolling or that it’s okay because they are just opinions. i know this wasn’t your intention, and i’m very sure you just meant your original post as a little bit of fun to talk about something that has been sitting on your mind for some time. these are just your opinions and you can have them, but i think it was just the way that you went about it which irritated people. although not your intention, it did come across a bit mean-spirited and inconsiderate, and it did seem like you shaded something that is very well-liked in this little fandom. this will draw criticism towards yourself and your opinion just from the very nature of the conversation as it is quite negative to discuss things you dislike, and tagging the main ship tags opens that dialogue to many who likely don’t want to see that. many people here seem to have come from fandoms where drama was non-stop over silly things like this, just topics that spiral out of control until people’s feelings get hurt and nasty things get said that aren’t necessary. it’s actually really stupid and very juvenile but unfortunately that’s what it is, and i think that’s why people didn’t want you to start a conversation like that so publicly.. it invites people to spread negativity about things that others find enjoyable and people argue about it. especially leading up to tom’s birthday which is supposed to be a fun time in the fandom, full of amazing creative content from everyone.. a conversation like this circling might make people insecure over what they planned to post. so sorry again about this being so long, you might completely disagree with me and that’s okay. i just wanted to explain to you without it needing to be public necessarily or make you feel like you’re being ganged up on. i really hope you don’t let this situation heavily affect your view on the fandom or the ship itself, i know it’s selfish of me to wish but you might find some that do agree with your opinions, meaning that it’s not like everyone hates you (and unfortunately, there is no community that is forever positive without arguments). i hope you have a nice rest of your week and that this situation doesn’t give you further anxieties or troubles <3 take care!

Hi. So, about KBS, if i recall it correctly, that discord service in the story was talking shit behind the auhors' back and harry, they were talking about how pathetic he's, i remember how that made him frustrated and sad. i didn't do that, there was nothing against anyone. not everyone may like my attitude in the original post, but i didn't intend to do harm or wasn't even serious while making it. however, they attacked me, called me slurs, sended many anon hates. that's why i thought my situation was similar to the story, because i'm overwhelmed by the pressure like him. someone even said, '"...and the author has more talent in their little finger than you will ever have in your sad little life, going by all the insecurity, bitterness, and discourtesy that you're spewing here." don't you think they took it too far for no reason? for nothing? and now they're gonna say i'm playing the victim like it's all my fault and deserve all of it. lovely. i'm human too, if they only thought it as much as they think "what would author feel?" just because i said their work is not for me. thank you for being kind though, i appreciate that and see your points. and lastly, i don't think there's a single thing in this world that would make me hate tomarrymort, let alone for something petty like this. :)

[dzpenumbra]

4/24/23

I took today off, it was a good idea. I ended up having a nice day.

I set up my groceries to be delivered right as I was falling asleep. I slept from like 6 to 2ish. I was woken up by an earthquake, though I didn't know it at the time. The timing was good, I caught up on sleep which was awesome. Lack of sleep affects me a lot, and I'm very susceptible to it. I have earplugs being delivered, I'm finally giving in and giving them a shot now that I don't have pets I have to listen out for in the night.

The Instacart shopper started shopping right as I got up. I did yoga, took the recycling out and went and got my food.

I spent a bit of the day playing Per Aspera. I was in end-game, I figured I'd see what else was left. There wasn't really much of an ending, the game sorta... trailed off. I like open-ended games, and I appreciate that it was left that way in some ways... but... yeah. It didn't really feel like picking a path really mattered much. And I barely put any of my research into military and it had very little consequence for me. And I was on the second hardest difficulty. So... yeah. At that point, honestly, I would've preferred just a terraforming simulator without the story. Or at least a game-mode like it.

Don't get me wrong, the story was good, and they got Phil LaMarr to voice one of the characters which was cool. The voice acting was all very good, the writing was good too. But like... it just climaxed at a big decision... and then the decision didn't really... seem to have many consequences? And then the voice over kinda just... ended. For hours. Like I said last week, in the beginning I would get voice lines for every single piece of research I did. Then, when I finished Open Air Cities - which is like... the primary goal of terraforming... - there was no voice line. It was... just confusing. It felt like they either weren't done... or they didn't expect people to get that far in the game or something. Weird.

I do want to say though... the terraforming mechanics in this game are sick. I really do like it. The way the water levels rise, the humidity and wind effects, the biome spread, shit like that. I really do think it would be cool if they extended this game even further and took the same kind of mechanics... and applied them to terraforming other planets - like Venus. Or even doing something interstellar, and see how well you can actually terraform a planet when you don't have the ability to ship things from Earth. I don't know. I just liked the terraforming process. The game is not over, it's a "play as long as you want after the credits" kinda game, so... the real test will be seeing if I come back to it.

I recorded music a little. Not much, to be honest, but I wrote something that was pretty cool. My guitar style is morphing a lot, I'm liking what it's growing into. I'm trying to push myself a lot more, to do more complex stuff... but I'm in this weird place where I want to write and play complex stuff, but I want to listen to stuff that's... simple, but in emotionally powerful ways? Maybe the end result will be a fusion. Who knows. I really try not to fight my muse when it comes to music. I may wrestle with it and refine a bit more when it comes to art stuff, sometimes it's necessary.... but with music, the process tends to be very pure, very... this phrase is this song, and if I don't like it... hoard it and start a new one. It's always been that way. I'm content with it.

I made fried rice again, I watched some streams. I played Risk of Rain 2 again and here I am. Chill rainy day.

Oh, and I checked that message I got from my therapist. I honestly don't even remember what he said, I think he was responding to me saying I didn't want to spam him... and yeah, it was a bit awkward, I'm sure he didn't know how to respond, he was really new to his new site and interface and everything too. I clarified some stuff I went over last night. How the message I wanted to send was just clarification on how one of the things we went over last session was one of my biggest trauma triggers, and how it had me spiraling a bit. And how I was kinda... impulsively trying to resolve it (to make the invasive thoughts go away) by writing and sharing context, thinking that will make the conflict go away. Because social resolution tends to shut my conscience up. And I stated that I'm... not going to send that message, and we can talk about it on Thursday, because I need to practice restraint a bit with that. Because that isn't my work to do. And this is a good opportunity to practice that. I clarified the important vs urgent thing, and that this is definitely important, no doubt there... but it isn't urgent. And I need to be able to find some form of peace without being this dependent on interpersonal resolution. That's a very big thing I struggle with, and a relationship this professional is an ideal place for me to practice this rather than a friendship, or romantic relationship.

It may seem like a kinda... duh... skill. But like... I struggle with that deeply. I do not have kids. I do not have a social job. I do not have friends or family. It's just me and my thoughts all day, every day. And my conscience has a fucking megaphone and very little patience. Distraction, diversion, shit like that... exceptionally hard for me. So... I'm going to have times when that shit invades. And I'm going to have to figure out what to do with it. Because that's just part of having a brain like mine.

I guess others... don't have a brain like this? Every time I get all urgent and insistent and write like 3 page letters or call back and go "we need to get to the bottom of this", people get so... thrown off. Like I'm coming in like a tornado and it disorients and upsets them. It blows my mind that they can't relate. I have no idea if it's a neurodivergence thing, or some other brain or personality thing, or like... an isolation thing? I have no clue what it is, but man... if this perpetual conscience thing is something others lack, something that's so rare... I really don't get a lot of fucking slack or support with that.

I guess it's easier to just throw a prescription at you, or tell you to sit with it and grow thicker skin.

Welp, guess I still had a bit of grumpy left in me... XD I'm gonna see if I can get a little more music done tomorrow, I'm enjoying that, I've got ideas. And I'm going to check out the weather forecast once I'm done here to see when would be a good day to reserve the shared car and go on that hike...

OH! And I got a spray bottle, which I almost forgot about, so I can try the whole moss-farming thing. I'm excited to see how that goes and test it out.

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of consciousness #stream of thoughts