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blueberry-lemon · 30 days

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the never-ending hustle bums me out

I've posted before about how I worry about how hard it is to be a creative freelancer online these days, especially for artists and musicians.

I wrote about social media starting to splinter last year. And then later I wrote down some truly pessimistic fears over here.

But I had one more thing on my mind about posting work online, so here it goes:

It makes me sad when I see people having to do the online content creator dance to get more Likes, Shares, and Followers.

And to be absolutely crystal-clear, I'm not judging everyone who is doing these things. I completely sympathize and I understand being in a situation (especially financially) where it feels that there is no other choice. It just bums me out. Especially the feeling that platforms make us dance and beg for attention. I'm mad at the tech companies and all the ways that they leave breadcrumbs out, telling people that it's easy to build an audience on their websites when it isn't at all and the engagement doesn't always translate into anything.

Elaboration below.

Everyone's gotta hustle, and I get that.

You have to put effort in to get eyeballs on your stuff, whether you're doing it for your income or just as a hobby. But it bums me out when someone was originally doing something they were passionate about, and now all of a sudden they're uploading like 5 Youtube videos a week with clickbait thumbnails and the whole nine yards, or tweeting with all sorts of hashtags, trying desperately to get "picked up" by the algorithm so that they can get some forward momentum and followers.

I think it's the "picked up by the algorithm" or "hoping to go viral" thing that bothers me especially. Because it's so nebulous, with ever-shifting goalposts that the companies who make these platforms don't care about at all. Even creators who DO have over 100k or 1m followers still struggle to maintain their livelihood because of all the ever-shifting preferences of the (supposed) algo.

This all came back to mind recently because of a mini trend on Twitter where creators are pretending to repost their own art to get more retweets. Basically, the theory is that people who steal art and repost it get more retweets than creators, so it's worth trying to pretend to be a reposter to get more people to share your art. "Woahhh, who drew this??" as a caption on your own drawing.

If I'm being totally honest, I don't really care about this little trend-of-the-day either way. I thought the original (now deleted) tweet was interesting and funny, and I'm sure most artists who have tried this afterward are doing it as a joke. I also think the lesson isn't really to say "yo who did this??" but rather just that people tend to retweet things with shorter, snappier, more relatable captions rather than a long self-promo post. I'm sure, psychologically, that self-promo posts with hashtags tend to turn a lot of people off, so they don't retweet them.

But in the grand scheme of things, I don't think any of these small tricks are going to make the difference in people having success or fun with their creative work. @erica had some nice thoughts about it over here and I'm inclined to agree. When the never-ending hustle to make social media work for your art feels hopeless, I think it's because the particular treadmills that you're running on might actually be hopeless. It's exhausting to constantly push more for more Likes, Shares, and Follows. I know that it's pretentious for me to say this (full-disclosure: i make a living off working for an indie game studio and don't currently hustle for freelance commissions) but I think scraping every last Like, Share, and Follow you can grab is unfortunately not going to change your life.

This is purely anecdotal, but no one who I support on Patreon or Twitch or whatever is someone who I just randomly saw on my timeline with like "cool art" or "a funny joke." It tends to be people whose work really speaks to me, or more likely, someone who speaks to me as a person because of their own thoughts, life, and experiences.

At the end of the day, it's probably more worth it (emotionally yes, financially maybe) to forge connections and bonds with people in smaller crowds. Places outside of Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram, Youtube, and TikTok. Places in real life, like conventions and meet-ups. Places on the "smaller" web, like forums, Discord servers, personal blogs, etc.

But, again....................what are we all to do? It sucks. And if there's a chance, even a small 1% chance, that you can get more followers, peers, friends, clients, and customers by hustling on these huge platforms.....I totally understand why everyone does it.

It just bums me out to see it. Particularly because I know that it takes time. And it takes effort. And mental and emotional energy. And all of that time, effort, and energy is probably better spent somewhere else, making the actual work that you like making and doing cool shit and exploring your own ideas and talking to people who really do follow you because your work speaks to them.

It also sucks because it pushes everyone into being the same type of "content creator" rather than specifically being a painter, or animator, or composer. Everyone feels compelled to make short-form video content, or microblog, or whatever it is that people say will make you go viral that week.

It all just sucks big-time and maybe it's obnoxious that I'm even writing this. My heart goes out to everyone freelancing. I have my fingers crossed that more stuff emerges that makes a clearer path forward. Patreon has thankfully helped make this life slightly easier for some people, but hopefully other tools will come out to supplement that and give people a safety net in case Patreon shits the bed.

#blog #blogofkylelab #social media #social media meta #art

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miniar · 1 year

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Watching D&D set itself on fire is both entertaining as shit and profoundly sad…

Like, I used to play AD&D. I used to have a DM that would chuckle a little and go "sucks to be you" sometimes, and we would all laugh along with it because the story-ride we were all on together was amazing.

Most of our combat was 100% theater of the mind back in those days, eventually paper map with semi-random tokens got added.

3.5 was okay, did not like 4, but with 5th edition and streaming games the resurgence of d&d was making my little nerd heart excited and though I haven't been able to get a group game going I still thought I could find ppl to play with… aaaaannny minute now…

And then… this happens… and I'm watching the splintering as companies and game-groups are scattering to the four winds already… and that's sad…

But The Sheer Level of absolute fucking bananas the leaked open game license they had intended to publish is just fucking hilarious. I mean, even if you don't account for the fact that fan created content and 3rd party small-scale publishers are the literal foundation for the continued existence of D&D, just the level of fuckery.

The 25% isn't of "profit", it's of "revenue". I mean yes, over 750k usd, but REVENUE. That means Before you pay your fees to kickstarter, Before you pay any artist, Before you pay for printing, Before you pay for any writing, Before you pay for proofreading, BEFORE anything…. Hasbro/WotC take their cut… and their cut is 25% of every dollar over 750k.

Which is enough to make it not only no longer profitable, but literally no longer POSSIBLE for a lot of small scale publishers to make content. Their profit margin is that thin.

It's like WotC saw "one million dollars on kickstarter" and somehow confused kickstarter with a garage sale or something.

And just to add insult to injury, they'd then literally OWN your stuff. Like, you can copyright it, and own the copyright… ish.. but they actually own it too, and they can do with it whatever they please, and never have to pay you a red cent. Nothing at all. Ever.

The disrespect towards the community isn't just absolute, it's like the whole thing was written by a pack of people who they hired as buisness lawyers despite them not actually knowing anything about things like business expenses or what revenue is. Like some random stranger walked in off the street and convinced them they were qualified by just throwing the word business into sentences, putting it in front of other words to make them sound business related.

It's either that or these are qualified people, at least on paper, who just don't understand what so ever what rpgs even are or how important the player base is, or what effect third party publishing has had on D&D. Because D&D would not be this popular, this mainstream, if it wasn't for all the content creators out there. The people they're gunning for are literally the foundation of D&D's not just success but continued existence. AND NOT ONLY THAT! They'd have to believe, as lawers, that players of a game where people will spend hours, Days, YEARS EVEN!, debating the implications of the minutiae of the game's rules, their interpretations and implications, wouldn't be able to look at the suggested new OGL and understand the implications of said document, and thus continue to produce content that would give WotC free new stuff and free revenue in perpetuity forever amen.

Like… they'd have to believe that in a community where the term "rules lawyer" has existed for decades, none of us could read a legal document and comprehend it well enough to see any problem with it.

These are the options, two flavors of sheer, unbridled, arrogant incompetence, one of which has to be in place to produce that new license, potentially even a combination of the two, because the alternative would be that they looked at what they had, looked at the blossoming community, the rising sales and secure ongoing income, and decided that nah.. on second thought, we don't want success any more, we'd rather just burn it all to the ground, alienate our most loyal userbase, and become a sad memory at best.

And potentially the most funny part is that they've had time to come out and say something, to even just try to lie to people and tell them that the leaked ogl wasn't actually finished, that there's no way they'd intended to do that… or to apologize and blame the incompetence or lack of understanding from those who had been responsible for the document.. or just Something, Anything, to quell the waves, but instead… it's been nothing but silence.

Not One Word.

So… companies are jumping ship. WotC have ALREADY lost a Lot just from being caught trying to jam their hand elbow deep into their players cookie jars and help themselves to whatever they want, and instead of removing that hand and apologizing, they're just sitting there, being awfully quiet… almost like they're hoping we'll stop being upset they've decided to steal from us.

It's just wild.

Just… bananas…

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istherewifiinhell · 1 year

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My morning dose of being sad about turtles, and afternoon dose of blogging about em.

Last Ronin spoilers, natch, and content warnings will be first thing under the cut

The pictures have blood, piercing wounds, and generally, violence. And metioned on top of that, death (familial), suicide and self harm, and drowning.

those are pretty telling aren't they....

Starting with flash back content.

[Image descriptions same as alt text]

[ID: Raphael running into April and Casey's appartment, dripping blood and knocking over a chair. He yells "Make a hole! *Incoming!*". April who'se recoiled from his entrance says "Oh my god... *Raph?!*". Raph wears a leather vest/harness that covers the front and back of his shell, and has a thigh holster. END ID]

[ID: Mikey and Donnie holding up a very injured and bleeding Splinter between them. Donnie says "April grab the *med kit!* Bring *everything!*, and Splinter groans in pain. Mikey is also yelling. END ID]

[ID: Mikey and Apirl lifting Splinter onto a table, April at his head, and Mikey on one arm. The table is quickly covered in blood. Mikey says "Easy... easy..." END ID]

[ID: Donnie holding Splinter's other hand in both oh his, looking crestfallen. April hold a part of scissors above Spinter's head and says "Donnie, help me *cut* the clothing way and clear all this blood." Donnie replies "I... I... I don't know *where* to start." Donnie wears a brown hat with ear flaps, his eye mask aroud his neck like a scarf, and light coat. END ID]

crestfallen... broken... completely shattered? maybe thats just me tho.

[ID: Raph sitting at the table by Splinter's feet, arms crossed infront of him. He says "Foot bastards..." Mikey stands near him, looking sadly over Splinter. Mikey has a sleeveless hooded coat. END ID]

[ID: Leo sheathing one sword, he wears a dark brown leather duster. He has a few splashes of blood on him. END ID]

And thus completes the turtle fashion, sadness edition. Fellas I know its like. The worst day of your life (worst day of their life *so far*), but, you look great.

[ID: Donnie in profile looking solemn. Raph behind him has both hands to his head, face scrunched up in anguish. END ID]

I cannot bare these expression. I feel like im gonna explode. But it gets worse

The trifecta of mikey softness and utter devastation. [All are of Mikey sitting by Splinter's side, holding his hand]

[ID: 1. Gazing sadly at Splinter, expression looking wobbly saying "Rear guard Sensei. Making sure we all got *Clear.*" 2. Splinter is pained as he says "Karai... trying to end it... once and for all." Mikey in profile, tears running from under his mask, says "Shhh... We *got* you, Sensei. It's okay." 3. Small drawing in the corner of a panel. The hand hold is a very gentle clasp now. Mikey's eyes are closed and he's leant very close to Splinter's snout, as if they could be whispering, bumping heads, or just listening to his breath. END ID]

fucking. I. YOU. ArGH. my boy.... my boy.

time to miss that side of him even more.

[In all, present Mikey is devoid of gear, clothes or eye mask, but is his head and arms have many small square bandages]

[ID: Mikey in the foreground, sitting at a table, at the other seats are visions of his brothers, desaturated and in cooler tones. They have their identifiable features now, masks slightly tinted, and gear visible. They also look significantly younger than Mikey. There are 3 cups, a dirty plate and screwdriver -near Donnie- on the table. Leo says "Yeah. Hard to believe *anyone* survived that." And Raph adds "Talk about *miracles*... Right, Mike?". Mikey says "Uh... Yeah. Yeah. Right." END ID]

really comparing the flashback turtles to him fucks me right up. but anyway. donnie's inexplicable screwdriver tho...

[ID: Mikey standing up behind his seat at the table, now seeing the chairs and table top as completely empty. He finishes a previous sentence "... Honor." END ID]

Oh my friends, my friends don't ask me what your sacrifice was for.... much... jesus.

[ID: Mikey standing in a kitchen, as seen from the far side of the table. He raises a cup of tea and says "I *will* finish what *we* started. What *Master Splinter* raised us to do. The last *Oroku*... [will die.]". The three phantom hands of his brothers raise their cups too. END ID]

now. now. hmm. I. That's concerning. That. that doesnt seem good.

but. questions of parenting or perhaps lessons long since twisted, for a quest of vengence aside. I have to ask. Do u think perspective is just hard (to draw and interpret) or maybe Raph just like. Really likes big cups of tea...

Well speaking of him. Wonder how he was holding up in the past.

[ID: Raph, covered in blood, numerous arrows pierce his leather vest, his shell, and his skin. In a low stance he holds his sais up, teeth grit. Framed by a red moon is Oroku Karai, dressed in all red, two swords in backwards grips, and descending upon him. She says "Yes... *We will*!" END ID]

oh... okay then....

[ID: Two panels, of Raph fighting, even more battle damaged. 1. Arm outstretched, hes taken a sword in the junction between his shoulder and his shell almost up to the hilt, bleeding heavily. 2. Blocking a strike aiming at his head with his sai, head partially retracted into his shell. Karai and him are both down a weapon, his other hand empty and both of hers on her remaining sword. END ID]

Man...

So again. The not pictured for sake of. Not posting the whole dang comic and. for. ough boy. of it. Him and Karai's fight is a tragic symmetrical erosion until they end up in the water. Grappling and with one free hand each they stab each other. Great visuals, fucking heartbreaking. Thematic mirroring for the cost of violence for violence... The revenge for the deaths of their father's. (That would be. Assumed death, on Raph's part tho. which, aint that the kicker...)

So like. The suicidal solo mission acts of revenge run in the family huh.... woof.

#some shit #turbles...#why do i do this at work again. oh cause im bored and i love pain. i guess.#heeeeey btw. just cause idk if ever came up and any beloveds are seeing this. the foot clan is the enemy of the turtles.#uhh if that one panel seemed inexplicable. its part of the parody origin we just all gotta take as part of it now.#anywaaaayy.#yeah from yesterday. i did read more today but i wont post it yet.#comic that. destroys me : )#turtle fashion digest #<- with saddness

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cainstinct · 1 month

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i. - - WOES.

closed, muse post.

𝖂𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔫 blinked, he found himself crashing onto the rough, unforgiving gravel of the road with his nose busted and a furious color of crimson streaming out of one of his nostrils, quickly seeping into his newly-thrifted shirt. He raised his trembling hand to cup his broken nozzle while attempting to bat away the tears that came to his eyes. The intense burning of the pain didn’t amount to the slightest bit of damage that he received as he peered upwards, to his father’s disappointed narrowed orbs and bared beer-stained teeth.

“’m sorry.” Dean wasn’t sure of what or which instance he was exactly apologizing for, but all he could do at the moment was hope he could lessen John’s incoming wrath. He sniffed, quickly regretting the decision to do so. Every time he breathed through his nose, it felt like it was clogged, as if a great big dam had been wedged inside and wooden splinters were continuously prodding the sensitive skin.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He sputtered out.

It was a pathetic attempt to mask the warble of emotion that crept into his voice. He kept repeating the same phrase like a broken record as he gradually shrunk under the dead-weight pressure of his own body.

“Did you think that I wouldn’t notice you, boy? Letting that filthy-ass mutt get off the hook?”

The insult wasn’t directed towards him, per se, but it certainly felt like it was.

Whenever something went wrong or it didn’t live up to the mighty expectations of John Winchester, all fingers pointed to Dean.

It always came back around to be Dean’s fault.

With his other limb, he dug his hand into the ground, his blunt nails scraping across the jagged rocks that littered the asphalt, desperately pushing down the urge that reared up in his gut to scramble away from his father as he stomped forward.

Earlier, he and John had been investigating a fairly-lengthy although easy enough of a case about a pack of werewolves terrorizing a farm a few towns over.

It was a remote area where a vast majority of trees were the only closest thing to be called as neighbors. Dean wouldn’t have minded the possibility of settling down in a place that was similar but he didn’t entertain the idea either. There was inherent use for retirement to a hunter like Dean who had no stable source of income besides hustling in pool and pickpocketing any poor sucker than came his way— nor any physical assets to his name. Not to mention, he barely had the slightest of clue on how to take care of Sam as it is.

When they arrived to the scene of the supposed altercation, they were met with slaughtered cattle with their intensities strewn out in the open and the farmhand— dead and rotting— as far as Dean could tell, with a gaping hole of where her heart would have been present and beating.

John had only taken one glance at the massacare before he turned around to take the long trek back to the car. He didn’t say anything till Dean was nestled in the passenger seat next to him, clearly puzzled at his silence but too uncertation to ask.

“They’re all in the barn.” John spoke blandly without fail, reaching into the inside of his leather coat to pull out his signature flask, the pure metal glinting under the rays of the light that filtered through the shaded window to his left.

He flicked the lid open, squinting at the murky contents that lazily sloshed around before deeming it okay enough to down the entire container of whiskey. The sun was still held aloft in the sky and hidden among the clouds; it couldn’t have been nine or ten before noon.

“Yes, sir.”

Looks like we’re staking out here tonight, then.

Dean allowed his gaze to drift towards the poorly-coated burgundy structure that stood tall next to the farmhouse. With the way it looked on its shaky foundation, one careful nudge from a gust of wind would knock it all asunder.

He found himself nearly sympathizing with it for a moment. Only for a short moment.

“Get up on your feet, boy.”

It wasn’t a request, it was a command.

“‘Now!” John’s voice had managed to rise above the wayward crickets that were hidden amongst the grass, making the throbbing of the pain even more worse.

“You’re embarrassing me.” He hissed to him next, and Dean wished he was already back in the front seat of the Impala.

#⠀ 𐕣 ⠀⠀ ⠀ . . . . ledger. ⠀ ❞#⠀⠀ ⠀ . . . . flashback. ⠀#supernatural roleplay #supernatural rp #spn roleplay #spn rp #supernatural #dean winchester rp #dean winchester #dean #winchester #tw implied abuse #rp

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irvinenewshq · 2 years

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I purchased Twitter to assist humanity and save dialogue says Musk

Billionaire entrepreneur Elon Musk took to Twitter on Thursday with a short assertion addressed to ‘Pricey Twitter Advertisers’ through which he defined why he bought the platform. Musk wished to set the report straight as a result of “there was a lot hypothesis about why I purchased Twitter and what I take into consideration promoting. Most of it has been unsuitable”. The way forward for Twitter Musk’s ‘digital city sq.’ He mentioned the platform is “necessary to the way forward for civilisation” and envisions it as a “frequent digital city sq. the place a variety of beliefs could be debated in a wholesome method, with out resorting to violence”. Musk fears a future the place social media “will splinter into far right-wing and much left-wing echo chambers”, which can solely additional divide society. Furthermore, he mentioned conventional media, in a last-ditch effort to remain worthwhile, is catering in the direction of these polarized extremes, and in doing so, “alternative for dialogue is misplaced”. ALSO READ: ‘Chief twit’ – Elon Musk labelled ‘merciless’ for Twitter takeover video Watch: Musk at Twitter HQ Musk mentioned for this reason he purchased Twitter. To not make a revenue and since he thought it could be straightforward. As a substitute, he purchased it “to assist humanity, whom I really like, recognising that failure in pursuing this objective, regardless of our greatest efforts, is a really actual risk”. Musk provides: “That mentioned, Twitter clearly can’t develop into a free-for-fall hellscape the place something could be mentioned with no penalties”. He mentioned netizens should nonetheless abide by the legal guidelines of the land whereas guaranteeing the platform is “heat and welcoming to all”. ALSO READ: Elon Musk to retrench 75% of Twitter’s workers Don’t neglect promoting income He hopes for it to develop into the house the place “your required expertise in accordance with your preferences simply as you select –for instance, to see films or play video video games starting from all ages to mature”. And right here’s the place the promoting push is available in. Musk believes if finished proper, promoting can “delight, entertain and inform”. “It may present you a service or product or medical therapy that you simply by no means knew existed, however is best for you”. ‘Adverts are content material!’ Promoting additionally requires the mining and acquisition of customers’ knowledge (with the intention to personalise these adverts), however we assume Musk will get to these technicalities at another cut-off date. Musk concludes: “Low relevancy adverts are spam, however extremely related adverts are literally content material!” “Basically, Twitter aspires to be probably the most revered promoting platform n the world that strengthens your model and grows your enterprise”. NOW READ: Musk jokes new fragrance launch to fund Twitter buy Originally published at Irvine News HQ

#Irvine News HQ

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gameingnow · 2 years

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TMNT: Shredder's Revenge Review

In TMNT: Shredder's Revenge review content, we take a look at the general dynamics of the game that brings Ninja turtles and their friends back to our screens. TMNT: Shredder's Revenge review: In the early 90s, there was an incredible furore of toy ads on TVs. However, these ads were not in the way we were used to. These works, aimed at pumping up the sale of a certain group of toys, were marketed to children under the name of cartoons. Of course, the child watching the cartoon was attached, and with each new character and vehicle added to the cartoon, the sales quotas of toy manufacturers were filled. At the same time, the licensee company also received income from the sales of cartoons to the channels.

TMNT: Shredder's Revenge Review / PC

The only unhappy on this wheel were the parents, whose money flew out of their pockets. Especially in the years when we were children, my mind was going when I saw the character I was watching the cartoon in the toy store. But since the Turkish Sunday was not so open at that time, many things remained cartoons, and it was included in our childhood in this way. Here was a series that appeared during this period of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Pizza Patient, (which was added later, a story made up to increase pizza marketing in New York) is the story of four Ninja turtles aged 15-16 who have mutated. Their teacher Splinter sensei was himself a mutated mouse. The owner of this mouse, which was fed as a pet, was killed by our main villain Shredder. Then our mouse, which was exposed to the mutating chemical hasbelkader a, was transferring the ninjitsu abilities that he learned while watching his former owner to turtles, a sub-generation. In Turtles, according to the story, Shredder and his army were trying to defeat the Foot clan. This army was created by Shredder's desire to have a crowded army, with the support of the alien Krang, they were mass-produced as robot soldiers. We used to sit around watching Leo, Mike, Ralph and Don stories that ran from adventure to adventure in every episode. We used to enjoy watching Shredder and the alien Krang he served take down in every episode. Of course, the brand has been updated over time, created again and again with new animation techniques. A lot of adventure toys, 2. When I say class video games, in March last year, Youtube dropped the following video A... I can say that I turned 15 the first time I watched the video. The animation style, the music, the enemies, it was all 90s TMNT. Since then, there have also been gameplay videos v.s. and on June 16, 2022, it was published on many platforms, especially Steam, with a price tag of 34 pounds. First I said, ”probably the wrong price". I gave a copy to myself and a copy to a friend as a gift. I called him, asked him to install it right away. We already started playing together as soon as the 700-odd MB file was installed. Our work is 16-bit. There are no graphics settings. You press and you play. We have two modes. The first of these modes is Story mode. You can finish the story by progressing without much difficulty, renewing your lives and protecting your level in each episode. The other mode is arcade, and here you have one coin and three lives, just like you play in an arcade. When you're done, it's all over. Again from scratch. After selecting what you want from these two modes, you come to the character selection screen. Here are friends of our heroes, friends of our childhood from Cheetara (Thundercats?) his next love, April O'neil, is also among the Decisively chosen characters. Each character has three different scores as range, power and speed. Range indicates the range of movements, power indicates your hitting power, and speed indicates the speed of your character. After choosing the character that suits your style (I'm playing with Leonardo and Raphael), if you want to choose friends with you by inviting them, if you don't want to, you start the game alone or with random people on the internet. At this point, I can't help but mention that there are 6 people together, it's officially getting boring and you can lose your character's place. That's why 2 – 3 people sounds like the ideal number of players. In Story mode, you can find and rescue other characters who are also in the cartoon, and they give you tasks. If you perform these tasks, they return to you as XP and you level up. There are a total of 10 character levels. In these 10 levels, in general, you increase your number of lives, extend your lifeline, and open some super moves. The characters have a total of 21 different types of moves, and some of these moves appear as they skip level. Because the gameplay of each character is different enough from the other, enough variations can be provided. As in every Beat'em Up game, pizzas that fill your life, pizzas that provide endless Ninja energy will be waiting for you in the middle of the section. If your friend is about to fall somehow and your energy is full at that moment, the characters make a “high five” gesture and share energy when they come together and press the LB key. Besides, you have 10 seconds to remove your teammate who runs out of energy and falls to the ground. When you go to him and offer him a “pizza”, you can lift him off the floor with a little energy. Obviously there is not much to tell at this point. You choose your character and beat the villains throughout the 16 levels. But beating up these villains has been made so fun that you are constantly playing the game with the thought “let me pass one more level”.

Graphics and Sounds Since our graphics are 16-bit, there is nothing much to comment on. At this point, I would like to mention the character animations and this variety of animation. The movements of each character, their combinations, winning poses, snaps that come out during the game are different and varied from each other. There is a lot of variety of enemies, and all of them have both movements and artificial intelligence working well. The end-of-episode monsters are also fun. You discover his tactics and take advantage of his weaknesses to defeat him. The sounds and music are also extremely successful. Especially the fight and fighting effects are very nicely put on. If you are one of those who were children in the 90s like us, you may have already finished playing TMNT right now. Other than that, I strongly recommend it to anyone who likes 16-bit Beat'em up games. These types of productions don't come out much. And when it comes out, you need to evaluate it. The selling price of the product is 36 TL . The product is also available on Gamepass. I wish everyone a good time. TMNT: We have come to the end of our Shredder's Revenge review article. If you want to read more TMNT: Shredder's Revenge-like review articles, you can go to the corresponding category of our website. Read the full article

#arcade #cartoon #TMNT:Shredder'sRevenge

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smolkooks · 4 years

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banana milk - j.jungkook

pairings: reader x jungkook, established relationship!au

word count: 1.4k

content: angst to fluff, a couple fight :(

warnings: a couple fight, angst

summary: a fight between you and jungkook leads you to the convenience store, which leads to banana milk. [ lowercase intended! ]

( note: please do not plagiarise my work! )

‘i’m sorry.i didn’t mean that.’

too late. it was already said. they splintered through your heart and mind and made your ears ring. something about those words he’d uttered, the tone he’d used, drove you to breaking point.

you didn’t hear what he was saying, pleadingly, as you unhooked your coat from beside the door and slid it on, angrily snatching the house keys and your phone from the pocket, teeth gritted.

you felt him grab your arm, just before you could step outside. it was a firm movement, and while usually, his touch would make you feel comforted, right now, his hand burned your skin.

‘y/n, listen to me, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean—,’

‘let me go,’you snarled, eyes vicious enough that he released your arm. you could make out his own tear-streaked face through your blurred vision but you didn’t care—you just wanted to get out.

away from jungkook.

there was something in the way that the moonlight hit the pavement and reflected onto your cheeks that made you feel particularly sad tonight. something in the way that the sky glared down at you.

you’d been with jungkook long enough that you knewhe didn’t mean the words that he’d spat, angrily, at you in his fit of fury. you supposed you just didn’t expect for him to actually say it out loud, outright.

you knew he didn’t mean it, but it still messed with your head. you weren’t sure if you were being overdramatic—maybe you were; maybe the heat of the moment was getting to you and what he’d said wasn’t actually that bad at all. but still, it made your eyes tear up again, just thinking about it.

consumed in your own head, you barely registered your phone vibrating in your hand, or the traffic that surrounded you. when you finally realised that your phone was buzzing, you flipped it over and glanced at the lit screen— [ incoming call from:jk <3 ]

you considered it for a moment, a split-second, before you slipped the phone into your pocket, letting it ring. unanswered.

you took a detour to the park, then circled back around to the neighbourhood, trying very hard to clear your head. it worked—at least, you’d stopped crying.

without much conscious thought, head still ringing, you made your way to the convenience store that you and jungkook always went to, halfway through the night, whenever you guys were hungry for a midnight snack. it was conveniently just down the street and round the corner—and you mindlessly strolled into the shop, the door chiming as it opened.

you found yourself staring at the fridge in the back corner of the shop that you and jungkook always spent the most time at. the one that was stocked with rows of different flavours of banana milk.

pulling open the handle, you used your free hand to grab one carton of melon flavoured milk—your favourite one—and as you released the handle, watching the fridge slowly close, you considered getting another one for jungkook.

not knowing quite why, you caught the door just before it sealed shut and picked up a banana-flavoured one. then, you made your way to the check-out.

the cashier, a middle-aged woman who knew you and jungkook from all of the times that the two of you had come halfway through the night, gave you a warm smile.

‘hello mrs hwang,’ you greeted, returning her smile politely, setting the two cartons of flavoured milk onto the counter, ‘just these today.’

she made the usual polite conversation, but as she was waiting for the receipt to finish printing, she absently asked, ‘where’s the young man who—,’ but she immediately stopped when she glanced up from the receipt machine and registered your puffy, red eyes.

you gave her a tight smile, ‘it’s okay. he’s at home.’

she nodded, ‘i’m sorry. have a good evening!’ she patted your hand gently.

you found it in yourself to chuckle a little, ‘thanks, you too.’

taking your two cartons of banana milk from the counter, you made your way to the little seats that were by the door of the convenience store, and sat down.

you let yourself breathe for a moment, then you pulled out some tissues and dried the remnants of your tears from your face. slipping the melon milk’s straw out from the plastic wrapper, you popped the foil and slipped the straw inside the carton, taking a long-awaited sip.

sweet as always—but your heart still hurt a little.

heaving a heavy sigh, you took your phone out of your pocket and set it on the table—not a moment later, it lit up with jungkook’s contact, buzzing insistently. the time said that it had been an hour since you’d left the house.

so, deciding you were feeling a bit better, this time, you pressed the ‘accept’ button, then raised the phone to your ear.

you sighed, and waited for him to speak.

‘y/n,’ he said, after a moment of hesitant silence, ‘i’m sorry. i—i’ll go find you, i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have said those things. there’s no excuse. tell me how i can make it up to you, please. i’m sorry.’

you considered his words for a few seconds. you could feel the tension coming from his end of the line, and you knew he’d probably been crying, too, from the way his voice was a bit shaky.

‘i’m at the convenience store,’ you told jungkook.

‘okay.’ he responded almost immediately, and you half-smiled at the image of him sagging in relief. just as you were about to hang up, he snuck in a quick—‘i love you.’ – before he hung up first.

you bit your lip to stop yourself from smiling too much. you had to be mad. serious. angry. jungkook was cute, but he had said mean things—

you wondered if jungkook was already outside when he called you, because you swore he arrived at the store in a split-second.

you met eyes through the glass the moment he turned the corner. he bit his lip guiltily as the automatic glass doors slid open and he stepped inside, black bucket hat hanging low on his eyes.

as he sat down in the seat opposite you, at the same table, you slid the banana milk across the table, and he took his hat off with one smooth movement, running a hand through his long, fluffy hair. he gave you a tentative look, and it was only at your affirmative nod that he finally took the carton of banana milk and popped the straw through, taking a little sip.

‘i—,’

‘you need to get a haircut,’ you cut him off, leaning over the table to tenderly brush the hair out of his eyes, ‘i’ll book an appointment for you, next week.’

his eyes were wide when he replied, eyebrows a little bit furrowed, ‘yeah, it is getting a bit unruly.’

‘cute, though. i like it.’

the two of you sat in silence for a minute, just drinking in the atmosphere, the quiet, and of course, the cartons of flavoured-milk that the two of you both had and loved.

then, he broke it and said, his expression and tone full of guilt, ‘i’m sorry. how can i make it up to you?’

‘i know you didn’t mean it,’ you told him, sitting back a little, ‘but it still hurt me.’

‘i’m sorry—,’

you raised a finger to your lips to silence him, ‘but, i think i can forgive you,’ you suppressed your half-smile, ‘because i know you feel bad. i know i said some things i didn’t mean, as well—i’m sorry for that. i think we both needed space. we were both tired and frustrated and i think we can learn from it.’

he bit his lip and nodded fervently, ‘thank you for forgiving me, y/nnie, i love you, don’t forget it.’

‘i won’t,’ you said, taking a sip from your melon milk, before you leant forward and gently brushed his hair aside, pressing a kiss to his forehead, ‘i love you, jungkook.’

he exhaled, before softly kissing you on your lips. you giggled into the kiss, and he pulled away a little, brown eyes wide and curious as he murmured, ‘what’s up?’

you smiled, jokingly scrunching your nose up in a way that jungkook found absolutely adorable—

‘you taste like banana milk.’

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lvllns · 3 years

Text

honey on my fingers

the wayhaven chronicles. mason x sparrow kingston (nb detective). ~1.8k+ words. mature for implied sex. a whole lot of praise and body worship here y’all. deep relationship mason, so soft content incoming.

read on ao3 instead.

Mason moans.

Deep, rough, from the center of his chest. It pours out of him like wine. Spilling across his chest to drip onto the sheets below. His fingers curl. Wind and card through Sparrow’s hair and they pull away to press a kiss to the inside of his thigh.

“Mêl ar fy mysedd,” they mumble against his skin.

He blinks. Tries to sort the words and gets as far as Welsh before he gives up. Everything is fire bright at the moment. Red and orange licking at the edges of his vision. His hand falls to cup their cheek and they lean into the touch with a soft hum.

“What’s that mean?” His voice is rougher than he expected.

He clears his throat.

Sparrow drops another kiss to his body, on his hip this time, before they prop their chin on his stomach. “Honey on my fingers.” They turn to nip at his wrist. “Welsh version of music to my ears.”

Heat races down his spine and Mason shivers. It’s foolish of him to hope Sparrow doesn’t notice the way his body reacts to their voice. Their touch. He can’t think of one thing over the years that they haven’t noticed. Ava calls them eagle-eyed, quick to spot the tiniest of things, and Mason enjoys the way they’re able to pick out a speck of blood or a slight shift in the paint on a wall. It’s all very impressive until that attention is focused squarely on him.

Then he feels rather like every single inch of him is on display.

Not just his skin, but the secrets he’s buried into the cracks between his ribs. Thoughts he placed carefully among the bones of his wrists. Things he expected to keep to himself until he could sort out whatever was rattling around his head, and then they’d fuck off.

Jokes on him, because once it was all laid out before him and the lights turned the fuck on, it was all he could do to not hand everything over to Sparrow immediately.

They’re still looking at him, one side of their mouth pulled up in a close-lipped smile. Their thumb is drawing sweeping circles over the skin of his thigh. He is so utterly distracted by them. By the way they sound when they’re excited, words rushing from their mouth a mile a minute. By the way they smell, soft hints of vanilla and well-worn leather. By the way their heart sounds, steady beats that lull him to sleep more easily than he ever thought possible. Noises and scents that steady him, and it’s still so strange to find comfort in sensations that usually overwhelm.

“Still with me?” Their breath is warm as it washes over his bare stomach.

He rubs a hand over his face and nods. “Yeah.” Mason curls a hand around the back of their neck and pulls gently. Guides them up his body until they’re laying on top of him, noses bumping.

Sparrow kisses him. Slow and sweet, the vague memory of the taste of sugar lingering on his lips when they pull away to kiss his cheek. “Cuore mio,” they murmur against his temple. “My heart.”

Their touch drifts over his side as they kiss his throat. They’re so gentle with him. Like even after all this time he’s going to splinter in their hands. He wants to tell them it’s different now. He’s stronger. More in tune with his emotions now that he knows what to look for. It’s a moot point though, with them draping him in affection like a warm blanket.

A thumbnail pokes against his bicep and he blinks.

“I do love your arms,” they speak into his jaw. “Strong enough to protect, gentle enough to soothe.”

A little piece of...something, wiggles loose around his heart. “Songbird—”

They quiet him with another kiss. Deeper this time. A searching kiss that has him groaning. Clutching at their waist and holding them tight.

“Are you okay with this?”

“With what? You talking nonsense about how pretty I am?”

They click their tongue. “Nonsense, please.” A tap to his nose. He scoffs. “I only speak the truth. You know I can’t lie to save my life.” Fingers lace with his. “Seriously, is this fine?”

Mason swallows and nods, not trusting himself to speak. Instead, he gently tucks a lock of hair behind their ear.

Their mouth moves back to his jaw. Slips down his neck to settle at the base. “Luce dei miei occhi.” Sparrow props themself up on an elbow and grins. His head is spinning. “Light of my eyes.” They sit up. Straddle his waist and splay their hands across his chest. “Do you know how difficult it is to pay attention when you walk around without a shirt on?”

A soft laugh escapes him, jostling Sparrow a little. He catches their hip and holds them steady. “I might have an idea, given how often I find you staring at me.”

They roll their eyes, a fond smile on their face. “Fair.” Their fingers tap across his collarbones. Dance down to his sternum. He realizes, quite suddenly, that they’re tracing his freckles again. “It’s your freckles.” Their head cocks to the side. “Don’t get me wrong, the muscles are nice.” They emphasize the words with a gentle squeeze of his pecs. Mason snorts. “But...I always want so badly to touch your freckles.”

“The feeling is mutual,” he says. He finds their shoulder. Runs the pads of his fingers over the scattered bursts of pigment that dust their skin.

Sparrow hums. “Your nose too.” Delicately, they run their touch from between his eyebrows to the tip of his nose. “It’s handsome. Suits you.” They cup his face. Smooth their thumb over his jaw. “Jawline sharp enough to cut marble.”

Mason catches the moment their eyes go bright. Delighted with whatever has occurred to them. Their hands find the side of his face, and they squish his cheeks together until his mouth is pursed.

He rolls his eyes as his head falls back, slipping from their grasp, a groan escaping him even as a grin splits his face.

They’re giggling where they sit, perched on his waist. Sparrow leans down to touch their foreheads together. “Can’t imagine why you’ve put up with me all these years.”

Mason trails a finger up and down their spine as he says, “There’s no putting up with anything.”

The admission is quiet. A secret spoken between them, poorly kept as it is. He just can’t let that go. Can’t stand to think that they believe he’s putting up with them. And for what? Sex?

No. No, he’s spent too long embracing what he feels to even consider letting their statement go unchallenged.

For their part, they blush. Red sweeping across their cheeks to their ears. Dripping down their neck to coat their chest. Paint on a canvas. Smears of color spreading out like a wildfire.

“I know,” they whisper, and those two words chase the tension from his body.

Sometimes he worries that he doesn’t do enough. Tell them enough. He’s still stumbling around this like a newborn fawn trying to cross a frozen lake. But the way they light up when he holds them or brings them a book he swiped from Nat’s library...he thinks he’s doing okay. It is nice, however, to have it confirmed.

They slither down his body, peppering kisses over his stomach as they go. Teeth scrape over his hip bones, the bite of them soothed quickly by their tongue. Sparrow curls their fingers around his thighs and exhales. Slow and even. It burns the inside of his leg and the muscles twitch. He had forgotten what they were doing before Sparrow decided this was more important, but his body reacts to them as it always does.

Immediately.

Honestly.

“You have ridiculously nice legs.” Their touch falls to his knee before moving to settle up by his hip. They quirk a brow as their fingers curl, the tips resting on the top of his ass. “I really don’t think I need to tell you what I think about your butt.”

“Need to, no. Still think you should.” He smiles, wide enough to flash his fangs.

“It’s a good butt, sunshine. Seen it plenty, mostly upside down while you’re carrying me around.” Sparrow moves to kneel between his spread legs, their hair hanging loose around their shoulders. “You’ve carried me out of some scary situations.” Their brows furrow. A little knot forms between them and he reaches up to smooth it away. Gently, he sweeps some of their hair back out of their face. “I’m terribly fond of you.”

His heart thumps painfully in his chest. Knocking against his ribs and begging to be let free. If he could give it to them, he would. On a silver fucking platter.

There are lips against the center of his chest, breaking him from his thoughts. Sparrow kisses him, the barest brush of their mouth. “Philtatos,” they whisper against his skin, “most beloved.”

Some kind of broken sound claws its way out of his throat. Mason flips them over. Hovers above them for a moment before he presses them into the bed, and slots his mouth over theirs. They’re smiling, he can feel it, but it’s a distant realization.

He feels like he’s drowning.

No, floating. He’s light, too light for the heaviness of water.

It’s a whole lot of pretty words spoken in a pretty accent by a pretty person but he knows, he knows Sparrow better than he knows himself sometimes.

They’re honest to a fault.

Especially with him.

Mason kisses them until they push on his shoulder. Breaking away to gasp for air as he moves to lick at their throat. He doesn’t know what to do with the love surrounding his heart so he gives it to them the way he knows best. By touching. He maps their body with his hands. Colors every inch of them gold in the low light of their bedroom. So long he’s seen his hands as weapons, useful things to break anyone who threatens him or those who have his loyalty. But when Sparrow is underneath him, body lifting off the bed to fit into the curve of his palms, he finds himself thinking that maybe there’s some good beneath the long dried blood on his skin.

It feels as though an age has passed when he eventually falls onto his back with a soft thump, skin slick with sweat. His eyes are shut, and he takes deep breaths through his nose. Sparrow’s heart starts to settle, to come down from the high of a moment ago, and their lithe fingers find his. Tangling together. Vines on a wall. They squeeze his hand.

They roll onto their side, wiggling close enough for their knees to push against his thighs. Light kisses pepper over his ribs until they exhale and press their nose into his side.

“Rwy'n dy garu di,” Sparrow mumbles. “I love you.”

He buries his face in their hair, eyes shut tight, and wraps his arm around their shoulders to hold them close.

“I love you too.”

#the wayhaven chronicles #agent m #txt #writing tag #long post #c: sparrow kingston #mason x sparrow #that post clocked me in the jaw bc sparrow is welsh!!#and now here we are!!!#i'm only like....half-fluent in welsh and less so in italian so please excuse any wonky translations #and in order sparrow speaks: welsh. italian. italian. greek. welsh.

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moonlightflower21 · 4 years

Note

To whom it may concern, it seems the husband of one of my clients was in an altercation with one of your brothers. He's concerned about the ramifications, and as he is the main source of income for his family I would like to request a meeting to see if we could diffuse the situation. Warm regards, Miss. A.R. Beauregard *Blossom hands a note to Lia" If you wouldn't mind delivering this to Mafia!Leo, please. Thank you kindly. (Such a cool AU idea! Just having a bit of fun)

(thank you!! and totally, i'm all for this 🥰)

"A letter... for me?" He asked, a brow perched. Any important documents were usually sent to him via emails or through Splinter. The letter was presented on his desk and he tore the seal, reading it's contents thoroughly.

"Altercation, hm? Why does this have Raphael's name written all over this" Leo closed his eyes, inhaling a deep breath as he tried to collect his thoughts. The letter hadn't touched much upon the issue that was caused, he wondered which brother was responsible for this. Most obviously, his mind was drawn towards Raphael. Lately his temper had been difficult and infuriating to deal with. However, he wouldn't sneak this past Donatello either.

Dipping his fountain pen in the ink, Leo carefully smoothed over the paper in order to respond. How should he even respond? A small part of him considered the validity of these words. Was he being led into a trap?

Dear Miss Beauregard, I hope this letter finds you well. I appreciate telling me about this incident privately. As for your request, I would be most happy to try and help find a solution to this issue. I could organise a meeting here, if you are comfortable doing so. Many thanks, Leonardo

He finished, placing the pen back in it's rightful place. Sealing the envelope, Leo stamped it shut with the wax.

"Send this back to that address" He commanded to one of his men, handing it over to him. As he watched the man walk briskly out the marble doors, Leo's mind wandered, who was this mysterious woman? And why the sudden interest?

#mafia turtles #sorry for the lame response #it's 1am here xD 💀

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cryoculus · 3 years

Note

i know authors have their own autonomy to update whenever they please, but is it ok to ask for some crumbs on the next paradoxical chap? i fell face first in love with your fic that I JUST /NEED/ MORE :'< of course, you don't have to if you don't want! i just wanna let you know that paradoxical has me so undeniably hooked

AHHH well, since you asked nicely,,,,

The late afternoon sun burned steadily across the horizon—golden amber rays splintering through the ominous-looking trees of Wolvendom. Dusk was already rolling in, but the sound of blades meeting in a song of battle could still be heard throughout the Dawn Winery. Anyone who wasn’t from around these parts would have wondered why an uproar like that raged on at this hour, but for the Winery’s residents, sparring sessions between their young masters happened too often to warrant their concern.

“Do you yield?”

Looking up at Diluc’s form towering over him from the ground, Kaeya let his head fall back on the grass. A wry smile made it to his face when he felt his brother’s blade inch away from his neck, and he supposed that he’d take the loss in stride. Being bested in a clash of swords to a man that worked best with claymores was nothing but another wound to lick.

“So cruel,” he muttered, toying with the blades of grass beneath his fingertips, “the Captain of the Cavalry, not even taking it easy on a mere novice. You secretly like these power trips, don’t you?”

“Don’t project yourself onto me,” scoffed Diluc as he sheathed his sword. But Kaeya was keen to notice the proud smirk he’d tried to suppress. “I’m not the one feigning as a beginner just to see the looks on the other knights’ faces when I finally get serious.”

As the redhead helped him to his feet, a hum of laughter slipped from Kaeya’s mouth—smooth as silk and sweet as honey—but Diluc was no such victim to his brother’s frivolities. Never was. Never will be. “Hey now, don’t go slandering me like that.”

“Is it slander if it’s the truth?”

“Ah, you seriously won’t wife anyone up with that attitude.”

Diluc, who seemed uncharacteristically responsive to his quips, looked like he was about to rebut with an equally demeaning response, but the sound of a gentle voice calling out to them from the manor hindered their timely banter. You sauntered over to their usual spot at the edge of the property, two glasses of grape juice placed on top of the tray in your hands. Trailing closely behind was Tunner’s grandson—hiding behind the skirts of your uniform. Ah, what was his name again?

“Noah, you wanted to ask these two about Visions, didn’t you?” Your encouragement was subtle, flashing him a warm grin. “Go on.”

Kaeya shared a quick look with his brother, both unsure of how to present themselves post-spar in front of a curious child. But when Noah finally decided to bite the bullet, he told them, “Do you think I can get a Vision someday? C-Can I help protect the city with you too?” with a face that Kaeya would have likened to an apple. The poor boy was so embarrassed, he looked like he had smoke billowing from his ears, but he opted not to tease altogether. To his relief, Diluc decided to take one for the team.

“You’re only, what, five years old? You shouldn’t be thinking about those things yet.”

The glass was halfway to his lips when Kaeya flashed Diluc an scandalized look. Oh sweet Barbatos, that is not how you talk to kids about their dreams! “Ahaha, what the Captain here means to say is,” Kaeya began swiftly in an attempt at damage control, “if you really are worthy, then the gods have no reason not to give you a Vision. Isn’t that right, Diluc?”

His brother returned his stare pointedly. “But what if he isn’t worthy?”

Kaeya could practically hear your jaw dropping along with his own. In a moment of silent agreement, you met Kaeya’s gaze as Noah stared up at Diluc with a flash of hurt in his eyes. Do something, you mouthed frantically as you attempted to quell an incoming breakdown from the five year-old. Archons dammit—

“If Noah isn’t ‘worthy’ of a Vision, that just means the Archons have other plans for him,” Kaeya offered with a grin, crouching down to pat the boy’s hair. “Your dad, Guy? He’s actually my senior, you know that? And even if he doesn’t have a Vision, he does everything he can to keep the peace in Mondstadt—just like everyone else in the Knights of Favonius. Don’t you think protecting citizens like that is just as good as wielding a Vision?”

Noah’s face seemed to soften at the mention of his father, trailing his gaze to his feet. “I guess… Dad is a great knight. He always makes Grandpa Tunner proud.”

You let out a soft giggle, tucking the tray beneath your arm when the two men have retrieved their drinks. “Doesn’t he make you proud?”

“O-Of course he does! I just wanna have cool powers like the young masters…”

A few moments later, Tunner called Noah back into the manor just in time for supper. Though he still regarded Diluc warily, Kaeya was satisfied with seeing the tension dissipate from the young boy’s shoulders. And that left the three of you, with nothing but the lamp posts scattered throughout the property illuminated the brothers’ makeshift arena.

“Cool powers, huh,” you parroted Noah’s words with a tone dipped in mockery, eyeing your masters with a smirk. “If only cool personalities came with receiving cool powers.”

Kaeya gasped. “Hey! I just saved us from the breakdown of a lifetime, no thanks to Mister More-Money-Than-Empathy here. I would like to be excluded from that narrative.”

The gentleman in question merely finished his drink in silence, leaning on the hilt of his sword from where he’d pitched it into the grass. “All I’m saying is that it’s not good for kids to cling to baseless assumptions like that.”

“Says the one who always has his head in the clouds every time Father praises him,” scoffed Kaeya. “And here I thought you’d relate to the sentiment of making another person proud.”

“Hmph.”

‘Hmph’, really? Did he really not have anything else to say? Kaeya sighed somewhat dramatically, feeling all the hope leave his body then and there. “Again, and this is worth repeating: you seriously won’t wife anyone up with that attitude.”

“H-Hey, straightforwardness is a plus to other ladies, you know.”

The way you’d responded so quickly elicited curious looks from your companions. Diluc seemed genuinely startled but Kaeya had to bite down the snort that threatened to crawl out of his body. You couldn’t be any more obvious. But he supposed it was a good thing his dear brother had always been oblivious to the matters of the heart. “That may be, but he’ll scare them away before they could even have a chance to warm up to him, won’t you Captain?”

“I don’t see why my capacity to marry even matters right now.” Diluc sighed irritably, already unearthing his sword as he directed himself to the manor. “Come on. Father doesn’t like it when we’re late for supper.”

As you all made your way back, Kaeya matched your languid pace, letting his emotionally stunted brother lead on by himself. You opted to keep your silence, and he chose not to intrude. Under the gentle spill of the moonbeams, he was content to see you deep in thought with a flush of red dusting your cheeks.

If Kaeya wished he was the reason behind that look, you didn’t need to know.

#tea time #anon #paradoxical #anon: *asks for crumbs*#me: *copy pastes a whole scene*#IM SORRY HAHAHA #im just rly excited for this one #if only i actually sat the fuck down and finished it

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ladyaudentium · 4 years

Text

Confectionary Affection

Title: Confectionary Affection Fandom: Final Fantasy Crisis Core Rating: T Pairing: AngealxOC Characters: Angeal Hewley, Zack Fair, Genesis Rhapsodos, Original Characters Links: A03, FF.net

This took me longer than I would have liked, but I'm back with the next chapter! This one is jam packed with Angeal and Zack content! Be sure to grab a cold drink and a snack to enjoy!

Thank you to all who reviewed, favorited, and followed after the first chapter so far! If I missed responding to anyone's review, I'm sorry! I'll be going back over the reviews for the previous chapter, and if I missed you, I'll send you a response!

Enjoy!

It was nearly impossible to forget that Angeal and Zack had stopped by her bakery.

Kalika and Anri worked themselves to the bone and were only just barely able to keep up to the new level of demand. Sometimes it was so busy during the morning that there was simply not enough stock left to open in the evening; not even if Kalika remade everything again.

At first the business had been making a considerable income, and even now, it was till turning a higher profit than the past, but the costs of running the establishment had also increased. Sometimes there was simply not enough ingredients or prepared pastries left to open again in the evening. Usually this ended up with the business losing money.

Not only that but the increased workload had Kalika and Anri burning out more quickly than they could regain their strength. Kalika's usual late nights and early mornings preparing dough and bakery items were quickly turning into working around the clock. It wasn't unusual for her to doze off kneading a bread dough only to wake with it on the floor or ruined from over working it.

Anri was the same, for the first time since she was a new employee, she was making mistakes with drink and food orders. As a result, the customers were becoming upset and more than once a scene with raised voices had caused Kalika to intervene and forcibly remove the troublemakers.

It was getting to the point where an extra set of hands was a necessary addition; preferably a set with some muscle behind them. Kalika sighed heavily as she once again wiped the chalk board clean. Her handwriting was never great to begin with, but her hands were still sore and shaky from the kneading she had just finished.

The sun was beginning to set, and the bakery had been closed all day. Kalika had spent all night and day preparing every bit of dough, batter, and meringue for the no doubt absolutely insane day tomorrow. If her usual delivery of supplies was on time, she would be able to open again the day after, but if not… well she would come up with something. She always did.

Slapping her cheek, she forced herself to stay awake for just a little while longer, she just needed to finish this task and then she was finished—

*KNOCK KNOCK* "Kalika?" a voice called from outside.

The young woman jumped at the sudden noise which caused a series of events to follow:

First, her precariously placed step ladder slipped off the edge of the counter, causing her to scream in fear and drop all her supplies creating a racket.

Second, the door burst open just as she desperately tried to remain balanced, her hands reaching out for anything that would keep her from the inevitable.

Third, she fell.

The young woman braced for the cold, hard impact of the floor, but instead was met with a warm embrace. Black hair and blue eyes entered her vision and it was with a sudden sinking pit in her stomach that she knew who it was.

Angeal Hewley.

"You should be more careful." He intoned lowly, his chest vibrating with his voice, "We need to stop meeting like this."

Kalika stared up into his bright blue eyes as her head rested on his chest. "I don't know, I think it's kind of nice?" the words escaped her mouth before she could think twice and immediately could feel her face begin to heat up in a deep, mortified blush.

Angeal blinked once in disbelief as his eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

"Better be careful, Angeal or pretty soon she's going to be falling for you!" Zack called excitedly, breaking the silence.

The black-haired man, sighed deeply and screwed his eyes shut, clearly stressed, "Zack. What have I said to you about appropriate behavior and comments?" he prompted as the burly SOLDIER made a move to stand, his steady grip assisting Kalika to stand along with him.

There was a heavy sigh from the opposite side of the corner while the younger boy replied monotonously, "You said that I need to think before speaking and that words have impact. I can't take back anything once it's been said, sometimes the best choice is to remain silent." the energetic boy leaned back over a bar stool and with both hands over his face, "I can't help it though, you two make it so easy!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands to the ceiling.

"You need to learn self-restraint if you intend to be an honorable member of SOLDIER in the future." Angeal scolded and judging from the young boy's reaction, this seemed to be a common occurrence between the two of them. Somehow, that did not come as a surprise to the young woman.

"I know, I'm doing my best, Angeal! Sometimes it just bursts out before I can stop it!" Zack turned to Kalika, "By the way, we're here to return this! The scones were delicious, thanks!" he held out the same container that Anri had given them upon their departure from their last visit.

The blue haired girl blinked once in surprise as she accepted the box; a reusable one that was not their typical to-go boxes. That sly girl, she had planned for this too. "Thanks, I'm glad you liked them." she looked up at Angeal, "I'm sorry for the trouble of making you come back here to return it. It would have been fine if you just disposed of the container instead." she also took the opportunity to notice that it had been washed as well. How… odd. Somehow, she just could not picture prominent members of SOLDIER doing something as ordinary as washing dishes.

The image of Angeal in a pink, frilly apron suddenly was at the forethought of her brain and she blushed deeply once again.

"It would be wasteful to merely dispose of an easily reusable box such as this." Angeal stated plainly. His eyebrows lowered with concern as he pulled a glove from his hand and gently placed his palm on her forehead, "You're quite red, are you feeling alright? Have you eaten anything today?"

"I - I think so? I've been busy today and haven't had a chance to sit down for long." Kalika blurted as she froze in place. Should she move away from his hand? Or would that be rude? Why was he being so friendly? Was he always this caring to strangers? Especially a stranger that just hit on him a minute ago. The blush returned full force to her face with that traitorous thought.

Before she could panic any further, he pulled his hand away and once again donned his glove. The young woman breathed a small sigh of relief.

"Busy? But you're closed!" Zack spoke up, and cocked his head to the side, "Wait, why are you closed? Shouldn't this place be hopping right now?"

Both sets of bright blue eyes settled on her with varying inquisitiveness. Zack's was honest confusion but Angeal's was less readable. His mouth was set in a straight line across his strong jaw while his eyes held a spark of suspicion that set a cold sweat down Kalika's spine.

Oh boy, how could she explain this without outright blaming them for the necessary closure and the empty ingredient cabinet?

"I… well… you see, ever since your last visit, business has been crazy. Lately I can't keep to the hours we normally hosted. Sometimes I'm up all night preparing!" Her words were spoken with a joyous tone, but from the lack of change in both of their expressions, she was not convincing them.

Angeal opened his mouth to respond, the frown of concern deep on his brow, but was interrupted by a fourth, unfamiliar voice, "Oh my Gaia, you're Angeal Hewley First Class SOLDIER! You're back! I can't believe it, I gotta tell everyone!"

Kalika felt the blood leave her face as her attention immediately snapped to the tall, blonde woman currently standing in the open doorway attempting to snap a picture of the two men.

"No, pictures without permission and we're closed, please leave!" She ordered, pushing past Angeal to confront the woman directly.

"What? But it's the middle of your posted hours and your door is open! You can't throw me out, do you know who I am?"

"Nope, and I'm sorry you've forgotten. Now, please get out, we are closed, and you are trespassing."

The woman's brown eyes flashed with indignation, "Listen, I don't know how you get off talking to customers like that, but—"

"No buts! I asked you to leave. I won't ask again." Crimson eyes sparked with anger as she stared the other woman down.

Red lips opened to argue further, but she was cut off by a deep, commanding voice "You have been asked to leave, you should comply with that request."

A quick, furtive glance backwards revealed Angeal standing straight, his burly arms crossed over his chest and a dark glare adorning his features. A shudder wormed its way down Kalika's spine. Scary, was the only thing she could think.

There was a beat of silence between the three of them. The woman suddenly looked appropriately ashamed of her behavior and without another word scuttled away.

The second the woman was outside, Kalika grabbed the door and threw it shut behind her. Much to her surprise, it bounced back open and that's when she noticed the lock was completely broken. Around the spot where the deadbolt should have been was a hole in the door frame and splinters scattered along the floor.

She shut it again, it bounced backwards.

She applied a little more force, it bounced backwards again.

Frustration and resentment burning within her, she tried again; it bounced backwards.

With all her strength, she slammed the door shut and before it could bounce back, shoved a chair underneath the similarly broken and limp door handle.

Defeated, she braced her hands against the door and let her head hang between them.

"It would probably be a good idea for you both to use the back door to leave. You'll attract less attention that way… plus, it seems this one is broken now." Kalika murmured quietly, not daring to look up in fear that they would see the unshed tears in her eyes.

"Kali…? Is everything… okay?" Zack's genuinely concerned voice broke the silence.

A lump caught in her throat and without looking at either of them she walked to the nearest table and sat down on one of the chairs, burying her face in her hands. She could not cry, not here, not with Angeal Hewley First Class SOLDIER and Zack Fair here to witness it. One shuddering breath later gave her the confidence to speak.

"Yeah, I'll be fine… somehow, I always am."

A shadow fell over her, "Is there anything we can do to help?" Zack asked.

"No, but thanks." Kalika waved him off but much to her surprise, he caught her hand between two gloved ones of his own. Surprised, she looked up into an uncharacteristically serious expression on the young boy's face.

"I swear on my honor as a SOLDIER I will do whatever it takes to help you, Kali. You're one of us now, right Angeal?"

"Don't swear on your honor lightly, Zack."

"I mean it! I do!"

Angeal nodded, seemingly accepting his young protégé's resolve. "How long has your door been broken like this?" the First Class inquired.

Kalika sniffed as delicately as she could as she attempted to take her hand back from Zack, but it was held tight. "It was fine earlier today; it was only just now that something seemed to be wrong. There was a hole where the deadbolt was and splinters from the door frame were scattered along the floor…" the young woman snapped her jaw shut when she realized the implications of her words.

Angeal's face darkened once again and his eyebrows angled inwards at a dangerous angle as he stared his young protégé down. There was a heavy beat of silence as Zack seemed to realize what was going on, "Oh… well… you know… SOLDIER strength, am I right?"

"No! It's fine really!" Kalika jumped up and did her best to placate the visibly upset SOLDIER, "It was old and in need of replacement anyways, I can probably write the replacement off as a business expense. I'm sure Zack didn't mean it."

Angeal sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "His intentions aren't the issue. SOLDIERs have enhanced senses and abilities. If Zack does not learn how to control these properly, he could end up hurting himself or worse, others." He looked up, "I apologize for the door, Zack you're going to suspend a fifty-pound weight in a squat today to make up for your lack of control this evening."

Zack groaned and Kalika winced sympathetically, "I don't think that's necessary, is it? Maybe since you're really strong you could help me with something, and we call it even?" she suggested. "I still need to finish rewriting that menu sign. We're opening with a new item tomorrow."

Angeal looked over his shoulder to see the unfinished chalkboard, "Is that what you were doing when you fell?"

An embarrassed blush crept over her face once again, "Yes, it's too high for me to reach on my own. So, I usually have to get creative… with a step ladder… on the counter."

"That sounds very dangerous." The raven-haired man lowered his eyebrows in concern and disapproval.

"Maybe you can help Angeal! Just lift her up and she'd be able to reach no problem!" an excited Zack exclaimed and, in his enthusiasm, squeezed her hand that was still held captive.

The young woman sputtered, "I- that's not what I meant, but maybe if one of you could just hold the ladder steady? I usually have Anri to help me, but I gave her the day off today."

Angeal turned and with one hand lifted the step ladder she had been using, revealing one of the legs to be broken off, "For the sake of your safety, I would advise against using this again."

"Oh… I see…" the young woman murmured as she worried her bottom lip, how was she going to get up there now?

Zack was practically vibrating with excitement from beside her. A quick glance to him revealed that he was glancing quickly between the two of them biting his lip in anticipation. He was planning something, if only the blue-haired woman could figure out what it was…

"To make amends for the broken door, I would be willing to lift you as Zack suggested." Angeal offered as he moved the broken ladder out of the way.

"I mean, are you sure? I don't want to be a burden. Are you sure I won't be too heavy?"

The burly man grinned and chuckled deeply. The genuine mirth revealed pearly white teeth and the genuine good-ness that radiated from him was unlike anyone she had ever met before. "I'm sure."

Kalika blushed for what seemed like the tenth time in under an hour, "I – Well… if you're sure, I guess. I need to get the chalk." Walking forwards, Zack finally let go of her hand and Angeal stepped out of the way to let her pass behind the bar. Grabbing the chalk from the ground and the eraser cloth, she turned back to the First-Class SOLDIER, "Okay, I'm ready, how would you like to do this?"

Angeal stepped forward and for the first time she noticed how tall he was. She had never felt so small compared to someone in her life, he dwarfed her in every sense. She was eye level with the middle of his chest, and he was easily twice as wide as her. Another blush adorned her cheeks as he knelt to one knee, "Sit on my shoulder and I will take hold of your legs."

Nodding, she turned around and as instructed, gingerly sat on his shoulder, doing her best to put as little weight on him as possible. Two arms wrapped around her knees, locking them in place and the next thing she knew, he was lifting her into the air.

Sucking in a breath she flailed, unbalanced, for one moment before a hand on her thigh steadied her. Angeal Hewley, First Class SOLDIER of Shinra was touching her leg. She tried not to think about how her butt was on his shoulder and instead focused on finishing the sign as quickly as possible. Her hands and shoulders cramped but she did her best to legibly scrawl the newest addition to her menu.

"Dumbapple tart?" Zack exclaimed, "Angeal, didn't you grow up in Banora?! That's so cool!"

"Is that true?" Kalika inquired, looking down to meet the bright blue eyes of Angeal.

"It is, both Genesis and I grew up there. His parents had the best Banora White tree, every summer we would take as many apples as we could and sit in the branches eating them." A small, nostalgic smile pulled up the corners of his mouth.

"That changes everything then, let me down, I'm all finished now."

With one swift movement, the hands disappeared from her person and for a brief moment, she hung suspended in the air before being gently lowered to the ground. The black-haired SOLDIER stared down at her with a quizzical expression on his face. Setting the chalk down she made to pass him, "Have a seat. I'll be right back," and disappeared into the kitchen.

The fridge opened with a hiss, a quick scan through the contents revealed her prize. Pulling two small tarts from their tray, Kalika put them on a plate and made her way back to the front. The fridge closed with a satisfying click behind her.

"Here, to thank you for helping me with the sign, please be the first to try a tart!" placing the plate on the bar counter, she waited excitedly for them to each take one. "They're Banora White apple tarts with some decorative white chocolate to counter the sourness and some edible gold sparkles for presentation."

Zack immediately grabbed one and in one bite put the whole thing in his mouth. His eyes lit up as he playfully slapped his mentor's shoulder, "D'ese are r'lly gud An'eal! You shou'd taste ish!" (translation: These are really good, Angeal! You should taste this!)

Angeal sighed in resignation as he took a tart, "Thank you, this wasn't necessary as it is us who are in your debt, not the opposite way around."

Kalika smiled brightly, "It's fine, really! Plus, I hope that I can live up to your memories of the times stealing and eating the apples."

With a small smile, he took a bite and instantly his blue eyes lit up with surprise, his eyebrows once again disappearing into his hairline. Swallowing, he turned back to the blue haired woman, "You have a true gift for baking."

Flushing for the umpteenth time that day, Kalika continued to smile, "I'm glad you like them. I'll package up one for Commander Rhapsodos as well and you can give one to him too!"

"How much do we owe you for the tarts?" Angeal asked as she pushed through the door to the kitchen.

"Nothing! They're thanks for helping me!" she called back as she began to package up the third tart and then returned to the front with it. Angeal stared her down, his mouth a straight line and his azure gaze steeled with his resolve.

"Please, it would be dishonorable for us to accept these gifts a second time. Especially when your door breaking was our fault in the first place."

Stumped, she could only stare. Never had anyone been so insistent on paying for a gift. "Don't be silly, these are gifts, do you insist for payment when you give a gift to someone?" she held out the tart wrapped in a white box with Confectionary Affection stamped on the sides. "Here's Commander Rhapsodos's tart, try not to squish it if you can, and now it's getting late. I imagine you need to get back to Shinra, since the front door's broken and likely a crowd of fans outside waiting for you to exit, follow me to the back door."

With that, she turned on her heel and pushed open the swinging door and motioned for them to follow her. Zack hopped up immediately, but Angeal took a moment to gather himself and follow. Passing through the kitchen and a small hallway with a set of stairs leading to the second floor, they came to the back door. Pushing it open revealed the dirt yard and receiving area for her shipments of ingredients.

"Thanks again for the treats, Kali. They were delicious as always!" Zack called as he jumped down the short flight of stairs, an arm extended in a cheery wave.

"Thank you for your hospitality. You honor us with your generosity. Genesis will enjoy this pastry, I am certain." Angeal stated solemnly, his eyes shining with the depth of his gratitude.

"Any time, come by again soon. Preferably without causing any trouble this time. Using the back door might not be such a bad idea to avoid any drama like with that woman earlier." She pointed to a black rectangle with a button in the middle, "Next time you're by, just ring this doorbell and I'll let you in."

Zack grinned devilishly and took a breath to make a comment, but before he could utter a sound, Angeal put a hand over the young boy's mouth to silence him. "Thank you Kalika, we will not forget your kindness today."

The blue -haired baker could only manage a small wave as they turned to walk away. Zack continued to wave enthusiastically until they were out of sight behind the fence. Closing the door, her knees felt weak. The sound of her name on Angeal's lips created a feeling in her like she'd never experienced before. Sliding to the ground she replayed the memory in her mind until she was sure that it would be with her forever.

She had offered for them to come back again, but it was such wishful thinking she did not dare hope too much. Once was a coincidence, twice was a pattern, but three times was a dream and nothing more.

But oh, how she loved to dream.

Oh they'll be back, but in the meantime, there's other shenanigans that need to happen first >:3c

Thank you for reading! Please leave a review if you'd like! I always enjoy hearing your thoughts!

#angeal hewley #zack fair #original character #me and my dummy thicc angeal propaganda #fic #confectionary affection #writing stuff #my writing

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space-kates · 4 years

Text

Flirt

Summary: Cara is going to get you killed one of these days.

Pairing: Cara Dune x Reader

Warnings: sexual references, swearing, guns/blasters, canon-typical violence.

Words: 1.1 K

A/N: So uh. I haven’t written or posted anything online in like…. Eight or nine years but the Cara tag is woefully lacking content so…. Here you go I guess? This was supposed to be angst. Cara had other plans.

Cara Dune was going to be the death of you.

The thought had crossed your mind at least once a day. Mostly because if the woman wasn’t actively getting herself into some kind of trouble on her own, she somehow ended up getting you into trouble with her.

It would have been kind of endearing if the trouble she brought on didn’t usually mean you were getting shot at.

“I hate you.” Your voice carried over the sound of blaster fire and scorched earth as the pair of you tried to avoid the incoming shots from the group of assholes on your trail. You didn’t even know what she had done to piss them off, you’d just wanted a drink.

There were three men, human from what you could see of their faces, but that didn’t really account for much. Three normally wouldn’t have been a problem if your blaster hadn’t been shot out of your hand about a mile back in the trees and they weren’t carrying a rapidly firing blaster cannon that was ripping up earth and trees alike. The surrounding area was already in shambles even Cara couldn’t handle that head on.

You didn’t need to look to tell Cara was smiling, that curling grin that let you know she was probably enjoying herself more than she should be. She was having a good time at least. She always did like a good fight to get her adrenaline pumping.

“That isn’t what you said last night when my mouth was between your legs.” Was her smart response and it had you flushing hot, remembering exactly what those smirking lips were capable of. Now was not the time to get all hot and bothered, you reminded yourself as bark exploded close to your face and you were forced to duck to protect yourself.

“One day! I just want to go one day without getting shot at.” You shouted to be heard the explosion that rocked the tree that was serving as your barrier. More splinters flew everywhere and you were tossed to the ground on top of the ex storm trooper who had tried to catch your fall. You should be used to being shot at, Cara’s ‘early retirement’ and snarky attitude didn’t make for a good friend making combination.

After a few seconds of shock you tried to lift yourself off her, ready to make another run for it, but Cara had a vice like grip on your waist as she sat up. She held you firmly to her chest as she raised her arm to return fire with the only blaster she’d thought to carry out with her today.

You were almost certain that this, this whole situation, had to be Cara’s favorite way to flirt with you. Otherwise she wouldn’t need to hold you so close that you could feel her breath on your neck. And she certainly didn’t need to keep your hips pressed so flush against her’s that you could feel every shift of her legs. It was almost maddening.

The middle of a fire fight is not where you want to get distracted by her body, you had to remind yourself for probably not the last time today. Or that stupid smile that had cracked her face and showed off those dimples you couldn’t resist. You could feel that smile get wider against your neck when there was a cry of pain from the distance and the cannon fire stopped, leaving the air around you eerily quiet.

“Come on, up you get. We need to move.” Her sudden command was punctuated by the hand that slid down to your ass to drag you up to your feet.

You wanted to protest but her mouth was quickly sealed over yours with just enough heat to distract you from complaining, and then she had your hand and was pulling you along again, ducking under haphazard shots. Your ship wasn’t that far away now and you only hoped you could make it before one or both of you ended up dead.

Would It be too much to ask to find a quiet planet to kick back on with a drink, where you wouldn’t have to worry about the locals trying to gut you for something your mouthy girlfriend said?

Either you and Cara had gotten faster than your pursuers, or they had given up the chase, because after a few long moments the blaster fire slowed, then ceased. It was enough that Cara slowed down to give you a moment to catch your breath. You weren’t built for running. Cara was the soldier and you were very much not. You’d take tinkering away on your ship to running any day.

“You good babe?” Her warm hand rested on the small of your back as you hunched over to breathe and relieve your burning lungs. It was comforting. If anything, at least Cara was a solid, stable presence even in this kind of situation. That did not however stop you from flipping her a rude gesture with your hand.

“I swear.” You accused, still panting when you had gotten enough air in your lungs to speak at last. “You do this on purpose.”

When you looked up at her you weren’t even remotely surprised to find her still smiling. And hardly out of breath, which felt like salt in the wound. You wanted to scowl but by all that is holy you were a sucker for those dimples.

“I don’t.” She denied, “But it does make life more interesting. Get’s the blood pumping.”

It was if she wasn’t bothered at all. Knowing her the way you did, you suspected she probably wasn’t bothered in the slightest. The woman practically lived and breathed blaster smoke and fist fights.

“You’re going to get us both killed.” You sighed for not the first time. Likely not for the last.

Her hand, which had kept its place on your back, slid down to her favorite place on your ass once again and you jumped even as the smirk on her face widened. The quiet was punctuated by your indignant squeak and her quiet laugh.

“Come on. I’ll make it up to you back on the ship.” The purr in her voice informed you exactly what she had in mind to make it up to you. Even though you were mad, because she’d gotten you shot at, again, you couldn’t find it in yourself to protest. And just like that she knew she was forgiven this time.

Yes. Cara was going to be the death of you one way or another.

#cara dune x reader #cara dune #the mandolorian #star wars #mandolorian #carasynthia dune #my writing

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peppyanddeadly · 4 years

Photo

STILL NEEDING BACKSTORY HERE

[ v1; she who hangs out in cemeteries ]

Based on seasons 1 through 5 of BTVS. Mainly canon, with room for divergence. For all intents and purposes, all events include the existence of Dawn (as all memories have been modified by the monks). It goes up to the point of Buffy’s death at the end of s5.

[ v2; i think i was in heaven, and now i’m not ]

Based on seasons 6 and 7 of BTVS. Mainly canon, with room for divergence. Starts off when Buffy is brought back from the dead by Willow’s spell and covers all the way up to the destruction of Sunnydale in the fight against The First. Heavily focused on s6 and Buffy’s struggles with finding herself again after being brought back.

[ v3; tell me that i’m wrong ]

AU starting off on season 6. While Buffy does come back as herself, the spell being interrupted before Willow was finished means part of her soul is left behind. Having to claw her way out of her own grave isn’t just traumatizing, but it’s also the first step to what will be the full splintering of her psyche. No one really realizes it at first, not even Buffy herself. She assumes her detachment and numbness are the result of having to face the harshness of the world, after having experienced absolute contentment while in heaven. It is when she kills Katrina, or rather when she thinks she does, that the trigger finally goes off. The idea that she may have taken a human life doesn’t make her feel guilty. As a matter of fact, she doesn’t feel anything at all. That sets her off. She becomes obsessed with making herself feel, whether it’s good or bad, she doesn’t care. She becomes reckless, hedonistic, thrill seeking, and careless. Completely unraveling, destiny and duty stop having any meaning, she no longer fights for the powers of good, but instead merely serves her own purposes.

[ v4; what are we gonna do now? ]

After the complete destruction of Sunnydale and the activation of all the potentials, Buffy travels around the world searching for the new Slayers. She works alongside with Xander, Willow and Andrew to find and train as many of them as they can. They put together a makeshift organization referred to as the Slayer army. Aside from training the other girls, Buffy organizes and commands operations all around the world. So location can easily be adjusted based on plot.

[ v5; i thought i may try violence ]

Based on early season 11. In a world where the supernatural is no longer hiding in the shadows, but rather out to the public eye, Buffy is living in San Francisco and acting as a supernatural consultant for the SFPD. The gig allows her to have an income while carrying out her Slayer duties on a full-time basis. The Slayer army dismantled, she does stay in touch with some her former soldiers but is back to working mainly on her own, with the assistance of the Scooby gang.

[ v6; goodbye stakes hello flying fatality ]

Harry Potter based AU. Buffy is a Hogwarts student belonging to the Gryffindor house. The year can be adjusted according to plot. Inspired by this post, if you want to read the whole thing.

[ v7; minimal damage of the fighting kind ]

Shadowhunter Chronicles based AU. Joyce Carstairs, younger sister to John, was cast out and stripped of her marks when she decided to marry the mundane Hank Summers. It was evident at a very early age that Buffy had been born with the sight. Despite her being banished, Joyce decided to raise her daughter as a Shadowhunter, as much as she could. It was done in secret at first, until Hank decided to leave the two and then the two Summers women didn’t have to hide their extracurricular activities anymore. She trained her, taught her to fight and about the Shadow World. Except, Joyce left out everything related to the Nephilim and runes. Instead, she called Buffy’s fighting against dangerous Downworlders slaying. After the Mortal War, with their numbers so significantly depleted, the Clave sought out to recover as many lost Shadowhunters as they could. That is how she was found. Joyce having passed away by then, and finding out for the first time she had a younger cousin called Emma, Buffy agreed to move into the LA institute and be trained as another Shadowhunter. While she can easily keep up with all the fighting, she has a long way to go when it comes to runes and the more magical parts of their nature.

[ v8; i’ve reached my quota on someones ]

During the events of The Girl in Question (AtS s5e20) Spike does actually find Buffy. The two of them spend the night together. When morning comes Buffy asks Spike to stay with her in Rome, but because he has given his word to Angel, he says he must go back and help on the upcoming fight. He promises he will come back for her when it is all over and asks that she waits for him.Originally, Buffy intended to wait for him, but a couple months later she finds out she is pregnant with his child. Knowing of Connor and everything that happened with him, Buffy is afraid someone may come for her and her baby or try to hurt them. Plus, leading the Slayer army puts her in way too much risk. So Buffy goes underground, settling down in a small California town of the name of Monterey, near the ruins of what once was Sunnydale. She tells no one the identity of her child’s father, except for Willow, who she asks to investigate into how it is possible for her to be pregnant with a vampire’s child.Eventually, she gave birth to a baby girl, who she named Joyce in honor of her own mother. Buffy made it a point to keep the father’s identity a secret from the entire world, even her own child, afraid that if the truth got out it would put her in harm’s way. When Joyce was around 2, Spike finally finds the two of them. He believe’s the kid to be someone else’s, and Buffy lets him, still in fear of letting the truth get out. However, she does allow for Spike to be as part of Joyce’s life as he wishes, and he is there throughout the entire time she is growing up.When Joyce was in first grade, the first clues to indicate she was an activated Slayer finally showed themselves. This scared Buffy, who realized being a Slayer while also being the daughter of the leader of all Slayers put her child in more risk than she knew how to deal with. So Buffy packed her bags and left, going back to her role as the head of the army, leaving Joyce in the care of Dawn and Willow.It is when Joyce is 18 that Buffy finally comes back to Monterey. While she says she is there for business, she takes every chance she can to make up for lost time with her daughter.

| exclusive connections for this verse; @bloody-peroxide (Spike) @wickedlehane (Faith Lehane) (verse not available for others of these characters) @dhampirslays (Joyce Summers) (no other oc children will be accepted for this verse)

#[ all available verses; ]#[ will be updated as i go; ]#[ human rules don't apply; ooc ]

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