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otonymous · 5 years

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Kinktober - Oct 5th (Swallowing/Collaring): Milk (MLQC Kiro - NSFW)

Description: Get frisky with Kiro this Halloween Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised. Trigger warnings: swallowing, collaring, costumes, semi-public sex, mild jealousy Word Count: 1355 words (~7 mins of dirty, filthy, Halloween-themed smut) AO3: read here Author’s Notes: My first entry for @alloveroliver’s amazing Kinktober challenge! Many thanks to this incredible person for taking the time out of her undoubtedly busy schedule to organize this event. YOU ROCK! 🤩

Please note the potential trigger warnings listed above, and hope you all enjoy this dirty story! 😂 Happy reading, lovelies!

All characters & Mr Love: Queen’s Choice owned by Elex

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

“Wow! You look…absolutely amazing. Gorgeous. I-I can’t even take my eyes off you, haha…”

Savin tries to run his hand through his hair, but the attempt is just as awkward as the way he ogled you in your cat costume — the high collar of his black cape leaving practically no room for movement past the top of his gel-slicked head.

Keeping a polite smile on your face, you discreetly scan the room for the soft flaxen locks you loved to run your fingers through, hoping for a swift conclusion to the uncomfortable conversation.

“Thanks, Savin. I like your costume too! You make a great Dracula, very Bela Lugosi. And I appreciate you extending me an invitation to B.S. Entertainment’s Halloween party.”

Before Kiro’s agent can reply, a firm yet gentle hand snakes about your waist, pulling you close to the side of a warm body — lithe yet strong, lean muscle encased in black leather; buckles and straps criss-crossing the physique that gyrated so well on stage to incite the madness of fans the world over. And beneath a black hood: strands of golden hair.

“Miss Chips! You made it!”

In his eyes, the vast blue of a cloudless sky. And a smile just as luminous to match. But the flex of his arm around you hinted at tension, and before you knew it, you were spun around and escorted off before Savin even had the chance to sputter - Kiro chucking under his breath as he says goodbye on both your behalves.

“What was that? And what are you supposed to be dressed as?” You finally ask when Kiro ushers you into an empty VIP room at the club booked out by his agency, the pounding beat outside falling several decibels lower when the door closes.

“I’m a ninja assassin!” He spreads his arms wide, presenting himself in full glory. Drawing back his cape, Kiro brings his exposed biceps closer, muscles bulging as he flexed to show off the intricate designs drawn in black ink on his skin, smiling in satisfaction to see the awe etched on your face.

“You look like you could totally KO the final boss in a video game!”

“Of course!” Kiro beams. But then, the brightness of his smile dims. “Hmph. Maybe it’s my own bossy agent I need to take out. Can’t leave that guy alone with you for even a second, I swear.”

“Who, Savin?”

“He looked like he was about to swallow you whole. But, I guess I can’t say I blame him…”

The corners of those cerulean eyes crinkle in an impish expression as he scans you from head to toe, humming appreciatively at the cat ears on your head, the combination of your sleek black bodysuit and skirt…and the tail that hung near the base of your spine.

“That’s, um…quite the costume. You look very, very nice, Miss Chips.”

“You like it?! It’s actually the third year in a row that I’ve worn it — I really got my money’s worth! Anna always complains and says I should switch it up for our company’s Halloween party—“

“So, you’re saying that people other than Savin have already seen you in this costume?! Tch, man…” Kiro frowns, rubbing the back of his neck, and you can’t help but smile at the sight of the pouty superstar. Bringing a hand to his face, you force him to look you in the eye.

“Could it be that our superstar ninja is jealous?”

“Yes! Miss Chips is special, for my eyes only.” Placing his hands on his neck, nimble digits in fingerless gloves loosen the silver buckle on a black leather choker. “And I do believe your costume is missing this.”

Looking at the choker lying flat on his palm, the corners of your lips tug into a knowing smile; you had wondered how soft the pliable leather would feel wrapped around your neck.

Circling behind you, the subtle notes of Kiro’s cologne — spicy and sweet — suffuse your senses. “Kittens need collars, don’t they? To show the world who their rightful owners are?”

Then, dropping to a whisper, “Let bad men know that even though they can look, they can never touch…”

His voice is sultry, dripping with sensuality as he breathes against the shell of your ear. And when you sweep your hair aside to bare your neck to your lover, you are rewarded with the sound of his breath hitching in his throat.

“…Unlike the way I can. Isn’t that right, Miss Chips?”

Still carrying the heat of Kiro’s skin, the choker lay warm against your throat — gentle and secure, as if the superstar himself had wrapped his hand around the delicate column of your neck.

But of course, those hands that coaxed beautiful music from his guitar were currently preoccupied with drawing all types of lascivious sounds from your mouth as two fingers, then three, explored between your legs from behind; relentless even as your knees shook, bent over on all fours on the plush sectional as you were.

“Kitty’s more excited than usual today. You’re completely soaked, baby.”

Kiro sweeps your tail to the side as he palms a slow circle over your pussy, and you gasp at the touch of leather from those fingerless gloves, making it harder to come down from your second orgasm around his hand.

Biting your lip in anticipation to hear his fly unzipping behind you, you hike your skirt up even more, further exposing yourself to his hungry, blue eyes.

“Hmm. You’re so well-behaved, Miss Chips. I say a reward is in order, what do you think?”

Slowly stroking your collar with one hand, Kiro gently guided his cock into your entrance with the other. And all you could manage in response to his question is a desperate nod, the furry tips of your prosthetic ears tickling his skin as he bent over you.

Then, with one enthusiastic thrust, the superstar is buried to the hilt, leaving you clawing at the seat beneath you, desperate to suppress a scream of pleasure that surely would’ve given you away despite the noise in the club.

“Mmm, you feel good, Miss Chips. So good, ah…especially when you tighten like that.”

His fingers graze the sensitive skin at the small of your back before wrapping around your tail, pulling soft but insistent as his breath leaves him in shudders — the rhythm of his hips building faster and faster until your throat became uncomfortably dry from panting in response to his onslaught.

And when those long fingers gathered the arousal that dripped down your thigh to draw smooth, tight circles about your clit, the act has you convulsing as the tension broke in your body, clamping down on Kiro’s cock even as he pulled out — hand pumping hard to chase his own release outside the warmth of your body until he spilled hot over the small of your back.

Still shaking even when you sense Kiro’s finger tracing a haphazard pattern across the skin on which he came, you gradually open your eyes when you feel his lips pressing affectionately upon each lid.

“You must be parched, kitty…screaming the way you did. Here. Your reward.”

Collar snug as you craned your neck in Kiro’s direction, you stick your tongue out, obediently lapping up the liquid that coated his index finger — pink on white. Blue eyes are transfixed to see your tongue sweeping from corner to corner of those perfect lips, dutifully licking up any and all remnants of Kiro’s release until that, too, is swallowed.

Then, drawing even closer, Kiro whispers, “Good girl. You've earned your milk, Miss Chips,” before his lips close the gap completely.

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“Kiro, where have you been?! Several producers wanted to meet you and—“

Savin stops short when he spots the leather choker, looking back and forth between you and Kiro, eyes narrowed to see it adorning your neck instead of the blonde with twinkling blue eyes, who says, with a hint of challenge in his voice:

“Now her costume is complete! Don’t you agree, Savin?”

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Thanks for reading! Check out more of my work here! 📚

#alloverkinktober #kinktober #mlqc #mr love queen's choice #love and producer #mlqc kiro #mlqc fanfic #mlqc fic #mlqc smut #smut #swallowing kink #collaring kink #fanfiction #my writing #elex

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ask-the-guiding-light-cast · 5 years

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Guiding Light turns two years old today!

It’s crazy to think this all began only a couple of years back... and also hilarious it falls on the same day as “International Mystery Dungeon Day” over on Twitter. More after the cut. This is gonna be a long one, so I appreciate anyone willing to read this. ^^

For a long time, I had been a casual consumer of fan fics. It started in the late 2000s when I was in a Spyro craze thanks to the more story-driven Legend of Spyro trilogy. I had an itch that I needed scratched and FFN fulfilled that to some extent. I also looked at some Mario fics, including Paper Mario: The Temple of the Sun, which I greatly enjoyed and thought did a good job adapting the formula that made Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door so beloved and putting a unique spin on things.

But it was until the early 2010s that I actually started getting back into Pokémon games with Gen V. After Emerald, I fell out of touch with Pokémon for a time. When Gen VI came around, I dipped my toe into the fandom through Twitch livestreams, but also through reading a few anime-based fics that are very long and still going, even now.

At the same time, I ended up buying PMD: Explorers of Sky... and damaged my cartridge before I could properly finish the game with my Vulpix/Riolu team. So, I watched cutscenes for what I missed on YouTube, then got Gates to Infinity and, later, Super Mystery Dungeon and had fun with both of them... though more for the stories and characters than the actual gameplay. Truth be told, I don’t care much for roguelikes at all.

It was during the gap in time between Super’s release and the first official footage of Sun & Moon in mid-2016 that I found myself hit with a recurring thought: “What if someone made a PMD story where the hero and the partner are forced to fight one another with the fate of the world at stake?” I wound up (loosely) brainstorming an idea for a PMD story revolving around an antagonistic Hoopa character who would use its ring portals to collect entire communities, including the Pokémon living in them... all so that he would never be bored. This would lead him to “collect” the partner to add to his “toys,” so when the hero shows up, he’d sic the partner on them.

But that was as far as I got with the idea. I ended up graduating college and took a job with late evening hours. It left me pretty tired and exhausted and unmotivated to do much of anything. I withdrew from the parts of the Pokémon community I was involved in.

Then the Generation VII games came out and, while divisive in the fandom, I found myself really liking some of the concepts. There were so many times when I thought, “Gee, I wonder what this would be like if it were in a PMD game?” For example, one of the ideas I had was a sort of edgy rival rescue team akin to Gladion, which would have a Midnight Lycanroc, a Zoroark, and a Type: Null character in it.

So, toward the end of 2016 and early 2017, I started creating an idea for a Choose Your Own Adventure story with the intent of putting it on this really small forum I was a part of. It would be a Gen VII-themed PMD story, but because I didn’t think that sounded interesting enough, I decided that, not only would the human keep their memories, but they would be from the real world and be a major Pokémon nerd. The idea was that the choices the readers made would affect the relationship between the human and partner. I even came up with a point system. The more points the readers earned for their choices, the “closer” the relationship the hero and partner would have and the happier an ending the story would get. If the hero and partner couldn’t stand each other, one of them would likely end up working with the bad guy and winning. If they became steadfast friends, they’d work together to save the world.

Unfortunately, the forum shut down before I got too far into planning it, so I shelved the idea and continued focusing on my job. And things stayed that way for several months, until I ended up getting into med school and scrambling to move.

During the downtime I had when I wasn’t doing moving related stuff, I decided to look at FFN again and found Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Defenders of Warmth. I wound up reading through the entirety of the story quite quickly. I guess you could say it sparked something in my head. The fic itself focuses on what, at the time, was the newest Gen (Gen V). It also has multiple humans and is set on a continent separate from the canon locations (which were just the Air and Grass Continents, since Gates and Super didn’t exist when the fic was written). In short, it renewed my desire to pursue my idea of a Gen VII-flavored PMD story.

So, I set about creating my story outline. It is so... so much different from the actual story, though I’ve gone into that in previous posts (search for #amby answers). Originally, I used Mario & Luigi: Partners in Time as the framework for the fic: an alien invasion in a colorful, comedic world. I took more specific cues, too. Zero was meant to be a (mostly) silent antagonist a la Princess Shroob, for example.

The problem was, I really didn’t have much confidence in myself or my abilities. I’d like to say I was writing for myself, but I really did want validation, too. I think any author is lying to themselves if they say they don’t feel this way at some point. Because of this, I figured if I put the fic on FFN, it would get ignored. The site’s huge! There were, at the time, around 85k fics in the Pokémon section alone. (That number’s since gone up to over 90k!)

Given I had experience with forums, I decided to post it to Serebii, because the fic community seemed much smaller and more open to giving feedback to one another. In an effort to try and, y’know, establish some connections, I actually read other pieces and reviewed them before posting any stories. This also helped me build up a backlog of chapters and prove to myself I enjoyed writing this enough to keep going.

When I finally did post the fic, it was a bumpy start, for sure. I do think I made a lot of mistakes out of the gate, including uploading chapters way too quickly for readers on Serebii to (reasonably) try to keep pace. That probably cost me a few potential readers... or made them silent readers who I never ended up hearing from. Which is why I’m especially thankful to @girl-like-substance (who I can seem to tag, drat) for all of the well-thought-out feedback given throughout the fic’s run. I don’t think I would’ve made such significant strides in my writing otherwise... and there are plenty of long-running fics where the quality tends to stagnate.

In any case... it was thanks to a request from @deliriousabsol to put the fic somewhere more mobile-friendly that I chose to mirror Guiding Light on FFN starting in October 2017. I would’ve kept going on Serebii had she not asked so nicely, so she’s the one you can thank for it showing up there! (She’s a fellow author who does cyberpunk-themed fics and art and her characters have cameoed in the fic.)

And, honestly, I’m just... beyond shocked at what wound up happening to the fic once it hit FFN. Well, actually, for the first several months I was lucky if I even got a comment when I put up a chapter. I’m not sure any of the people who first commented on FFN still follow the fic anymore. I haven’t seen/heard from them at all, so I assumed they moved on with their lives.

In any case, around March of 2018, the word count on FFN passed 300k and... somehow, the fic starting getting more attention. Like, a lot more attention. This was... not really something I was even remotely prepared for.

(Yes, this means there’s gonna be a giveaway. More on that later.) I never would’ve thought I’d reach a number like this. I never imagined I’d meet another PMD author who’d be willing to do a fun collab (thanks @virgil134, Spiteful Murkrow, and Namohysip). I really did not imagine that I’d ever get fanart of characters that I wrote (huge thanks @thebreak-ofdawn, @ask-nicky-and-others, and @cresselia92). I mean, above everything, I not expect the fic or characters to resonate with anybody the way it wound up.

A part of me feels like I don’t really deserve it. I’ve made a lot of serious gaffes with writing this. When initial Serebii feedback had people intrigued by Shane’s jerkass attitude (when I didn’t actually intend for him to come off as a jerk), I dialed things up in the hopes I’d keep their attention. It probably cost me readers. Then there’s the slow pacing of the early episodes and the mistake of making Special Episode 3 as long as it was... which my speaks to my (bad) tendency to give into some of my strongest impulses even though I had an outline I was trying to stick to.

And, I mean, there’s also some of the “shamlessly shameful” stuff I’ve done with the fic. I’m not fooling myself. Guiding Light has grown progressively more furry and, uh, probably fanservicey, too. All the big furbait (and some scalebait) ‘mons are accounted for. There’s a lot more sexual humor when I initially promised myself I would stay away from romance and keep everything platonic. I practically turned Xerneas into waifu bait, if some of these asks are anything to go by. This blog certainly didn’t help in that regard. Maybe I’m just being my usual nervous self?

I am worried that this fic’s performance has, somehow, affected my thoughts and behavior. There are very popular fic authors who let their popularity get to their head... or chose to open up Patreons (something that makes me uncomfortable) or start doing things like taking commissions for written pieces, which is understandable... though I think it’s an easy way to lose your passion for writing. I guess some of that worry stems from a debacle I learned about on a Discord server I’m in, but that’s not something I’m comfortable discussing publicly.

And I haven’t even talked much about the blog itself. Like, it somehow passed 100 followers? Where? When? How? I don’t actually draw stuff like many other Pokéasks. And, like, for a lot of folks, I have no idea if they’ve actually read the fic or just check in on the blog. It’s the same with the fic, I suppose. If you’re a silent reader/follower, I would really love to hear from you! I promise... I don’t bite or anything. I’d love to know what (if anything) you’re thinking. And if you’re a blog that’s following this one and we haven’t interacted, please feel free to reach out! It’s honestly hard to tell if people like what I’m doing, so any feedback is always appreciated.

In any case, if I haven’t lost you by now, I guess all I can say is... thank you. Thank you all so much for all of the support... whether it’s on the fic, the blog, or both of them. I really do hope this final episode can meet your expectations. I’ll try my very best to make this an ending to remember. Nothing would make me happier than to hear you guys enjoy it and feel it does justice to the PMD series.

Sorry for all the rambling. The inbox is open again if you’d like to send any messages for the ficaversary. Again, thank you all so much! You’re the best!

#ooc #long post #fic anniversary

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freckled-words · 5 years

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Repost:Unpaid Punishment Prt 5

edited by @the-wild-ego

WARNING: ANIMAL CRUELTY (in my personal opinion)

This time, when the colours and space around you settled you found yourself outside your house. The sun was beginning to set, and if you could feel the temperature, you’d know there was a bit of mugginess to the air.

A tug on your leash had you turning to look down the road.

Coming up the street was you. Now instead of 6, you were 17. You knew this from how you were dressed.

Black cut off jeans, bright green converse sneakers that had stars hand drawn on them, a Green Day t-shirt, and an MCR hoodie tied around your waist. Your hair was done up in a faux hawk, streaked with bright red, and the amount of eyeliner you wore would have made a raccoon envious.

Just as you were thinking this wasn’t your greatest apparel phase in life, Phantom chuckled with a bit of honest humour, “So it’s true, everyone goes through a dark phase. I will admit, I’m rather glad you did grow out of it.”

You bit back the retort that sat on your tongue. That maybe you should have, if it meant never being forced to go through this particular point in your history.

17 year old you stopped just a couple steps from Phantom. He followed her gaze to a red corvette that was parked by the curb.

He saw from the corner of his eye as both you in the past, and the you of present, pulled your upper lip back in a snarl of distaste.

You squared your shoulders and marched up to the house, making sure the door slammed shut behind you.

Phantom dragged you along, forcing you through the closed door. Your continued reluctance to behave only spurred him on. The last memory hadn’t delivered as much pain as he’d wanted. This one seemed to be extremely promising for some anguish.

17 year old you had been ready to go on the warpath when entering the house. Now he watched you hesitate, waiting with a growing look of unease on your face.

Not bothering to take off your shoes you went into the kitchen, bending over to check the linoleum floor for something. Not finding it, your urgency spiked higher, panic nearly visible in your eyes as you went to the living room.

Phantom didn’t hedge you for commentary. He didn’t need to when he could see the growing despair in your features.

He did continue to drag you as he went to the living room, not wanting to miss the spectacle of drama about to unfold.

He would be the first to openly admit that his understanding of human emotions wasn’t very profound. He could sympathize in satisfaction, of the flesh or from accomplishment of a goal. He could understand their anger and what might ignite it. But the finer ones: love, infatuation, despair, sadness. They were all out of his grasp. It didn’t stop him from exploiting them though.

To him, what you were experiencing and reliving, was just a show for him. He was studying all of it. Making notes of what he could use for his own purposes when dealing with potential targets in the future.

17 year old you ignored your mother and the man that sat comfortably next to her on the couch. From how your mother avoided looking at you, she knew what or who you were looking for.

When you didn’t find it there, you turned frenzied eyes on the woman, “Where is she? Where’s Hope?”

The man looked between you and your mother. From the twitch at the corner of his mouth, Phantom could tell he was in on things.

Your mother attempted for a solemn expression, which wasn’t easy for her to do with all the makeup she was wearing. The natural blush of her cheeks and the crinkles at the corner of her eyes made it obvious that she was quite happy with how things currently were.

“I’m so sorry sweetie, but I had to take Hope to the vet. She must have gotten into some food that was bad, or she ate something that wasn’t food at all… There was nothing that the vet could do.”

This had all happened years ago, but hearing these words again, you felt exactly the same as you did on this day.

A solid lump appeared in your throat as your eyes began to burn with tears. You didn’t believe a goddamn word this woman was spouting.

When you’d looked for Hope, you’d noticed that her dog bed was gone from its spot in the corner of the living room. Her leash wasn’t hanging on the hook by the door. Even her food and water dish had been removed from the kitchen. Gone was your best friend, your furry clown that always wanted cuddles and kisses, and in her place was this man. The newest one to join the line-up of trashy choices your mother had made ever since your father had left you.

You weren’t so naive as to not put two and two together.

Without a word you stomped off to your bedroom and grabbed the one thing you knew she’d miss. Hope’s favourite blanket. It smelled like dog, and had plenty of Hope’s beige and brown fur all over it.

Bunching it into a ball you rushed back downstairs, and without any warning threw the balled up blanket into the man’s face.

He exploded into sneezes, and as he did you stared down your mother with every ounce of hatred you could muster. Your voice was choked by your restrained anger, “You want to try and run that bullshit by me again?”

She met your glare without a hint of remorse, only annoyance, “She was old. She was bound to die any day, I just saved her the trouble of waiting.”

Your tears spilled over then, in them were any last shreds of love you’d ever had for this woman that you’d been forced to call ‘mother.’

Then and now, you could have murdered her and not felt a single ounce of regret.

Phantom could feel the waves of homicidal intent coming from you as a teenager, and you from the present. He hadn’t anticipated this from your character. He knew of human attachment to pets, he’d even considered taking in a cat himself at one point. But that had only been a passing consideration, for the sake of roping in a client. Seeing how you were ready to commit murder over a dog, he gave himself a pat on the back for having dismissed that plan.

Something about the way the man shifted on the couch, and tossed the blanket away in disgust, drew you back from the intent to lunge at your mother.

Instead you took a better route and turned your hatred towards him. Your tone spiteful as you told him, “Did she tell you she has crabs? That you're her fifth boyfriend this month? She goes through men real quick, cause they realize how much of a backstabbing monster she is. She just murdered a dog, so you would stay with her. You know who else murders animals? Sociopaths. You might want to keep that in mind.”

Your mother was on her feet and screeching, “How dare you! You worthless brat! You owe me everything, and I will not tolerate such blatant lies and disrespect! Get your ass into your room, I don’t want to see your face for a month!”

You’d gotten in the best strike against her. You’d planted the seed of doubt in her new beau’s mind. If he had any common sense, he’d join the line-up of deadbeat boyfriends that your mother had gone through.

Having nothing left to say you turned on your heel and went up to your room, but you didn’t intend to stay there.

Phantom tugged you along, to make you stand outside your bedroom door and listen as you screamed into a pillow.

He put a hand on your head, drawing your eyes to his so he could ask curiously, “If that man hadn’t been there, and if she’d still done away with your precious Hope, would you have gone through with it? Would you have murdered your own mother.”

At that very moment, facing her down and having your heart ripped from your chest, you knew the answer, “Yes.”

Phantom hummed a small note, and gave your hair a little pat.

You wanted to be out of this place. You wanted to go home to your current apartment. Just to cry and scream in peace. It hurt so much, to remember all the peaceful nights cuddled up with her. The sunny afternoons when you’d play with her in the sprinkler. Listening to her snore in the background while you worked on your homework. All of it gone, she was gone. Hope had deserved to die in her own natural sleep, with you by her side, so she would know she was loved right up until the last moment. Instead she’d been taken away and left with a stranger, one you hoped had treated her kindly just before she closed her eyes.

You collapsed to the floor, a gut wrenching sob tearing from your chest as tears streamed down your cheeks. There was no stopping this. You hurt too much.

Phantom left you there to your agony, not interested in your sobbing. He’d just wanted to be sure you were feeling the pain he’d brought you here for.

Stepping through the door to your bedroom, he was amused to see you reenacting your father’s final night here. You’d pulled a large duffel bag from the closet, and with tears and snot running down your face, you shoved handfuls of clothes into it.

When it couldn’t hold anything else, you grabbed a lightweight coat from your closet and tied it around your waist. Your sweater had been thrown into the duffel.

You diverged from your father’s exit by taking a different route. You’d gone down onto your knees and pulled out a rope from under your bed. With practiced ease you tied one end to the leg of your bed frame and cast the other end out of the window.

Your duffel bag was thrown out next, landing on the grass with a quiet ‘thump'. Your teenage self gave the room one final look over, then you were climbing out the window and lowering yourself down the rope.

The memory ended there, sending you and Phantom back to the white space.

The blanket with its numbing effect quieted your sobs, bringing you back to a more manageable state of mind.

You still felt raw though. Your stomach threatened to heave in response to the amount of emotions you were being forced to endure for the second time in your life.

“I must say, when I started this, my intent had only been to teach you a valuable lesson. Instead I’m learning so much about you. I could have been utilizing your capabilities to a much better degree.”

Since you hadn’t moved from the ground, Phantom took your kneeling position as an invitation to pet your head.

You ignored his touch, choosing to wipe the tears from your cheeks you asked demurely, “Are we done?”

Phantom tsked and gave a light rap on your head with a knuckle. “We’ll be done after we take a look at this last one. From what I’m sensing, this one took place not too long ago. What was it, one, two years ago?”

There was only one incident you could think of that had happened in the past couple years. Your voice was hollow, even to your own ears when you answered, “Three years ago. My final semester in college.”

Smiling at the resignation he could see in your eyes and posture, he held out a hand.

You accepted it and let him pull you to your feet.

Instead of pulling you along by the leash, you felt the tiniest spark of surprise when he held onto your hand and guided you towards the third cloud.

There were no remarks, or barked orders. He simply towed you through the darkness and out onto a snowy campus.

#Unpaid Punishment #Phantom Battle #reader insert #gender neutral #fanfiction #Natewantstobattle #Writing this chapter upset myself

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jackasplat · 4 years

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Tentative scheduling

Guess I’ll actually blog here for a little bit to map out what I’m planning for the next few months or so (under the cut for your convenience)

So far off the list I’ve launched my personal website, patreon, ko-fi, and I’ve applied for a table at the Dealer’s Den at my local furry convention, Anthro Weekend Utah.

For the rest of December I’m just going to start cranking out all the personal art I’ve been wanting to do all year, namely add to my telegram stickers, design two characters I’ve been developing, making more example pieces for things I want to offer as commissions when they open in January, and narrow down some merch designs. No actual merch progress will begin until January, but I’m planning on stickers, buttons, perler bead art, and maaaaybe a few prints. This all of course relies on if I get accepted into AWU’s DD in August. If I don’t make it into the DD, things might change a little bit regarding how much work I’m putting into all of this.

I’m still on the fence about whether or not I actually want to take next semester off, and a lot of it depends on how I did on my finals. If I didn’t do as well as I had hoped, I’ll most likely be taking a semester off, and I’ll be going hardcore with this furry freelance artist stuff for a while. But if I do pass my classes, I may just keep my momentum going and stay with school for a little while longer, and I might even take up an out of state summer internship. but we can get into that later. At the very least, progress will be made one way or the other going into the new year.

Starting January 3rd, commissions will open! Details are further listed on my weebly website. I still need to decide how many commissions I will be taking at one time based on how much traction I can get in the next few weeks. I expect it to start very very slow if I’m being honest, if at all. I’ll hype it up as much as I can myself, but the real determining factor is going to come from how much art I can punch out before commissions open, because frankly the best way to get noticed is to post frequently, and posting more means I’m drawing more, which means I’m following some sort of drawing schedule, which means I’m getting more practice and making myself more viable to offer higher quality commissions, etc. etc. It all comes back around is what I’m trying to get at.

The main form of commission I want to focus is badges for conventions, so I have to keep in mind the big cons that happen during the first half of the year, even though I’m only attending BLFC in May. I might apply for the Artist Alley there once apps open for it, but we’ll see. I kind of like the openness of August to be my deadline for a having a fleshed out line of products in order to fill up a whole 8′ table (if I get accepted, of course).

I will also begin designing stickers and buttons starting in January, and I hope to at least have which designs I want solidified by the middle of February, and for them to be done and ready for printing the end of February.

In March I want to start experimenting with making prints, because it’s something I really want to offer that I know nothing about.

April is my birthday month, will probably take things slowly here, maybe figuring out summer classes to take.

I’ll be taking a week off for BLFC in the beginning of May, and at this point I’d like all the products I’d like to potentially sell at AWU to be ready to print, and at this point I should have money saved up so I can do just that.

June onward will be planning out my table space, getting set ups, business cards, eye catching things, etc., and just continuing to crank out art. Although, if no dealer’s den happens I may just end up in Missouri on that out of state internship I mentioned earlier, and if that does happen, well, either commissions will pick back up in August or they won’t.

That’s kind of the catch-all with this whole thing. If I end up loving my major again and I do go out of state working as a food quality assurance intern at a cheese factory 1,243 miles from home, my time as a freelance artist will most likely be put on hold indefinitely. 2020 is going to be a very experimental year for me, and I’m willing to take that risk. If I end up not liking my degree, I’ll probably switch to a visual arts major/minor and keep freelancing, who knows?

All in all I feel really good about the direction I’m heading. My questionable finals aside, whether I go back to school or not, I feel good about this. And most importantly, I WANT to do this, I’ve been thinking about these kind of what-ifs for three years now. And I need to start learning to do what I want to do, not what I think I should do. Thinking like that has held me back too many times, I just can’t let go of the “what-ifs” for my future. What if I don’t like this, what if I’m just wasting time, what if nothing turns out the way they should, what if I worked harder then I would be happy, ad infinitum. I’m tired of holding back, I want to go all in, teeth bared, ready for the worst, balls to the wall... you get the idea. And I think, for the first time, I’m ready to try. All or nothing.

#long post #bloge

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douchebagbrainwaves · 7 years

Text

LAUNCH: YOU'D BETTER DO IT WHOLEHEARTEDLY, OR NOT

No idea for a company with a valuation cap of the note will be determined by the amount of spam that spammers send, they can start to ask other interesting questions. Then the interface will tend to produce results that annoy people: there's no use in telling people things they already believe, and people trying to break into computers, what worried him most was The degree to which feigning certitude impressed investors. The last time the DoD really liked a programming language probably becomes about as popular as it deserves to be on this list because he was better at search. I find through aggregators like Google News or Slashdot or Delicious. The weak point of the summary is to remind the investor who may have met many startups that day what you talked about. Though of course you don't have them. A startup now can be just a model; you can see change happen in your lifetime. Working for a small, furry steam catapult. The fifteen most interesting words are as follows: continuation 0. Why don't VCs start doing smaller series A rounds. But, as so many people work in offices now: you can't show off by wearing clothes too fancy to wear in a factory, so you have to design what the user needs, who is this for and what do they need from it?

Arbitrarily declaring such a border would have constrained our design choices. I'm mistaken. If you're starting a restaurant, maybe, but not too many, and how far you are from a neutral observer. What do you make them sit through some kind of connection. And erring on the side while working on their company, not its object-orientedness. And then near the end of my working day, and is successful in raising money from investors one at a time. When it turns up you often know what's wrong before you even knew what you were getting whether you liked it or not, and if it's inexpensive, so much the better. In the US it's a national scandal how easily children of rich parents game college admissions. I personally have timed out. There is nothing inevitable about the current system. Never leave a meeting with Jerry Yang in New York when Giuliani introduced the reforms that made the most money: make the best surgeons operate with their left hands, force popular actors to overeat, and so far no spam that does.

The most important way to not spend money is people, and how far you can push words; in fact they do all look the same. Which means local TV is probably dead. At Y Combinator we've seen dramatic changes in the funding environment for startups. Prolog: Programming is not enough; you have to solve this problem in other languages. It's the engine that drives them, in the broader sense has four causes. Most writers write to persuade, I'd start to feel you've raised enough, the threshold of ramen profitable, everything changes. The floors are constantly being swept clean of any loose objects that might later get stuck in something. Raphael so pervaded mid-nineteenth century taste that almost anyone who tried to draw was imitating him, often at several removes. It's the engine that drives them, in the form of the GI Bill, which sent 2. Ranking George Washington Carver with Einstein misled us not only about science, but about the obstacles you have to do is cannibalize their existing business, and that's just information.

For every idea that times out, new ones become feasible. For the same reason that, if it is one, will be able to pinch it off at the point in their life when they naturally take root. His field is hot now and every year you get a lot done during those few days, you will fail. It was impressive even to ask the questions they asked were new to them, at least to know what is a momentous one. But I think in some cases, for a time as a doctor in Nepal, for a mistress to relinquish, on assuming the responsibility of a household, many of the stories about Jeremy Jaynes's conviction say that he was utterly relentless. An apartment is also the cost of hardware allowed outsiders to compete. I'm going to use the money to pay programmers to build their own, so they did.

There are sometimes minor tactical advantages to using one or the other. Design doesn't have to think Why bother? If you don't seem like startup ideas at first, because they've all seen inexperienced founders with unpromising sounding ideas who a few years. Lisp—is that it gives you something to say you're doing. Java. As well as being smarter, they tend to split the deal between them. If you're a promising startup, so much the better.

For example, the guys designing Ferraris in the 1950s were probably designing cars that they themselves can build, and that you have to have leverage, in the long term, what the other kids. But it is less of a problem is already half its solution. But it's harder than it looked. Y Combinator. So it is in this case was meaningful because it was so simple. Attitudes to copying often make a round trip. Remember, the original ground zero, is about thirty miles away, and the best thing of all is likely to have names that specify explicitly because they aren't that they are republics. A startup is too hard for one person to bear. It works.

The problem is the emptiness of school life. On the surface it feels like the kind of work is the future. These sound like rhetorical questions, but actually it's surprisingly easy. But as the company grows older the question switches polarity. Learning is such a big deal. They treat the words printed in the book but has a flat usage graph. But the real advantage of individual filters is that they'll be able to solve the hard part. And incidentally, when it does. Perhaps the most important factor in a language's long term survival. So there you have it too; almost everyone does. Remember, it's the classic villain: alternately cowardly, greedy, sneaky, and overbearing.

This would be an additional service they could offer clients: they could let them insure their returns by pooling their risk. So don't spend your precious few minutes talking about crap when you could fix one of the most difficult problems for startup founders, I did it. How will this all play out? I think the place to do it right are the ones that win. One valuable way for an idea. If they're so smart, why don't more people use it, and I think this time I'll wait till I'm sure they work before writing about them as if you have sufficient discipline to acknowledge the problem. In towns like Houston and Chicago and Detroit it's too small to be useful for other kinds of knowledge that get in the open instead of being concentrated as they are, they're not the final step. Apparently some people in the technology world not only recognize this cartoon character, but know where you stand doesn't end when they say they'll invest. If they decide later that they want to be a case of premature optimization.

Notes

It wouldn't cut their overall returns tenfold, because there was a sort of stepping back is one way in which many people mistakenly think it might be a lost cause to try to avoid companies that get funded this way, because they suit investors' interests. The solution for this point for me do more with less, is that in the comment sorting algorithm.

In practice it just feels like it takes to get elected with a faulty knowledge of human nature, might come from. So it's worth negotiating anti-takeover laws, starting with the government.

We didn't try because they have less time for word of mouth to get going, and b when she's nervous, she doesn't like getting attention in the services, companies that we don't use Oracle.

Then you'll either get the answer, and mostly in Perl, and in fact had its own momentum. Cit. If you assume that not being accepted means we think we're so useless that in fact they don't make their money if they become well enough known that people will pay people millions of people who don't aren't. If early abstract paintings seem more powerful language in it, because they will or at least guesses by pros about where those market caps will end up with elaborate rationalizations.

I would go farther in saying that the probabilities of features i. Most expect founders to do it all yourself. The Civil Service Examinations of Imperial China, during the Ming Dynasty, when we were quite sore from VCs attempting to probe our nonexistent database orifice.

The original edition contained a few that are or feel weak.

Conjecture: The variation in wealth in the computer world recognize who that is actually a great hacker.

Though Balzac made a lot better to overestimate than underestimate the importance of making a good open-source projects now that the lies people told 100 years will be familiar to anyone who has them manages to find users to switch the operating system so much worse than close supervision by someone who doesn't understand what you're doing.

This essay was written before Firefox. It rarely arises, and try selling it. And I'm sure for every startup founder could pull the same amount of material wealth, seniority will become less common for the firm in the rest of the reasons angels like to fight back themselves.

It didn't work out. And starting an outdoor portal. What they must do is adjust the weights till the Glass-Steagall act in 1933.

The 1/10 success rate for startups overall. No, we don't have to resort to raising money in order to test a new database will probably frighten you more by what you learn in even the most successful ones tend not to grow as big a cause them to get good enough at obscuring tokens for this. It requires the kind of secret about the qualities of these titles vary too much to maintain their percentage.

If you have to do it. When Harvard kicks undergrads out for here, which has been happening for a monitor. Maybe markets will eventually get comfortable with potential earnings. Geshke and Warnock only founded Adobe because Xerox ignored them.

Thanks to Geoff Ralston, Chris Small, Jacob Heller, Sam Altman, Yuri Sagalov, Qasar Younis, Sarah Harlin, Rajat Suri, and Randall Bennett for their feedback on these thoughts.

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