“There are no female aliens in our game because we don’t know how to make a female version of this alien” You know that alien you just designed? That male alien? Give it a female voice actor and have characters refer to it as she. That’s it. That’s literally all you have to do
note: this contains lists of resources that I tend to refer back to when writing. I used to have these as physical copies stuck to my wall above my desk, but it's not the easiest to read, so I thought I'd just compile them here. They'll hopefully be useful to you as well, and if you have any suggestions, don't be afraid to comment them. At the moment, there's obviously not much, but it'll probably grow over time.
I'm 21 years old, and I'm in college currently for Art study and Animation
I am a Hellenistic Neo-Pagan, meaning I believe in, and pray to, the Greek gods
I'm a mother, with my daughter, and my girlfriend, @tgirlrider, both of whom I love very much
My MBTI is INTP-T, my PJO cabin is Cabin 10, and I'm a Gryffindor!
HYPERFIXATIONS & INTERESTS
PJO, Sabrina Carpenter, Summer, Date Everything, K-pop Demon Hunters, Greek Mythology, Genshin Impact, Wuthering Waves, ENA, Gravity Falls, DC & Marvel
TAGS
#⋆˚𝜗 My Work - Anything authored / made by me
#⋆˚𝜗 Writing - My fics + Writing / fic advice
#⋆˚𝜗 OCs - Anything featuring my ocs
#⋆˚𝜗 Reposts - All my reposts
#⋆˚𝜗 Asks - Responses to asks
#↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ - Playlists
REMEMBER PLS
Please be respectful, and also mindful of the fact that I am in no capacity, a native English speaker! I'm Brazilian, and severally incapacitated in many ways (Like I'm ADHD, Dyslexic and Autistic, and quite a few more) I do not, nor will I ever, claim that I understand English fully, or know everything about it. I learned English through Dora The Explorer, and my own studies of American culture, I may speak with a natural accent, but I am far from an educated person on the topic of languages, I'm only a humble fan of knowing many ways of speech, so pardon me for any mistakes, misspellings, or misinterpretations of any kind that you might spot in my texts.
Helpful and Preventative Stretches for Writers, Artists, and Gamers 💪🎨✍🎮
If you type, write, draw, game, or generally use your hands a lot (especially if you’re prone to RSI or Carpal Tunnel!) try these stretches as both a preventative measure, and on the spot relief. Take care of yourself and your body, friends!
Start with hands up, fingers stretched out. Stretch your thumb as far as you can over your palm. Hold and repeat 4 times.
Touch each finger to your thumb. Hold each for 30 seconds. Repeat on each hand 4 times.
Start with a fist. Open half way, hold for 2 seconds. Stretch fingers out, hold for 2 seconds. Repeat 4 times.
Start with one arm out, palm up. Pull your fingers back with your other hand. Hold for 10 seconds. Do the same with your other hand. Repeat 4 times
Start with arms up, palms out. Bend wrists down until you feel the stretch, but keep your fingers loose. Hold 10 seconds. Bend wrist upwards, until you feel it in your wrist and arm. Hold 10 seconds. Repeat 4 times.
i would really love to get into writing fanfic on here,, i was wondering if you have any tips / tricks about how to start that. i feel so lost when it comes to profile customisation, having posts with gifs, images or customised writing. i would love to hear if you have anything to suggest because i LOVE your work and your profiles aesthetics.
starting out can feel intimidating but do not worry! with tips and practice it becomes easier over time.
i’ve put together a small guide for setting up your blog and getting into writing.
let’s start with setting up your blog.
first, you need to chose an aesthetic you want your blog to have. currently mine is (as of july 27 ’25) strawberry themed.
second, i’d recommended checking out pinterest to find photos with the aesthetic you want.
for example, for my theme i searched up: “strawberry aesthetic,” “red aesthetic,” “gingham dress outfit,” and so on.
third, you can piece these photos together into a pinned post alongside with a bio.
i usually use this site for symbols. there is a search bar and i recommend using these keywords “symbols,” “layout,” “bio.” for fonts i use this site. in your pinned post you can enter your basic information: name, pronouns, age, zodiac and etc to your liking.
i’ll leave a few pictures of my old themes & pinned posts so you could get an idea of what i’m trying to explain.
of course you would need other posts linked in your pinned post, such as: about me page (detailed version, if you’d like), masterlist, rule page (tells others your boundaries and guidelines).
moving onto writing.
first, finding a good writing programme is important.
i use ellipsus. you can use it on web and download it as well. i recommend it because it has many features (version history; fonts; size control; themes; exporting into html, markdown, or normal text; ao3 connection) it’s flexible and has a great team managing it.
maybe you want to make smaus, for that i recommend the memi message app.
that brings us to another question, how do we customise our posts?
for this you need a layout. this is solely based on what you want. i can give you examples from my posts down below. you’ll see i follow this: 1. title 2. stating who the work is about 3. synopsis 4. you could add a moodboard if you’d like 5. dividers (you can search tumblr for these, just make sure to credit the creators) 6. the watermark at the end.
extra tips for starting out:
tag your works properly
interact with other writers
explore different topics to write about
don’t pressure yourself to be “perfect” at this, writing is something everyone can try
!! if you have any other questions please ask me 🥹🥹
Content Warning: Sensual massage, whispering in your ear, licking biting and scratching, she's lowkey (highkey) voyeuristic, edging, mention of sex with other people
𓂃 ࣪˖ ⋆.˚ ʚїɞ ⋆
It hadn't been a few days since Skylar had shown you how the Dateviators and the Date-a-Dex—on the nose names, I know—really worked, and you'd been shown around your own house that you'd already lived for quite some time, to be introduced to people who'd apparently lived there long before you'd arrived.
You had already been witness to Dirk's and Harper's constant bickering, been patrolled by Dorian's numerous forms around the house—including the comically pocket-sized one—played games with Connie and Chance, gone to Eddie and Volt's bar, been in a way Stalked by Fantina, hugged your old childhood plushie (Named Teddy, because you weren't a very original child), talked to the Narrator—The other one—and much, much more. You might've also learned a new thing about yourself the past couple of days: you have quite the serious hoarding problem. Before this week, you hadn't even been sure you had an attic or a water heater, but there's always something new to find.
Alas, what most caught your eye in your sea of household Bachelors and Bachelorettes, was perhaps the most obvious of them all, the one you'd spent the most time with before you had even realized you were doing so: Your bed.
Betty was one of the first objects in the house you met, and ever since you'd laid eyes on her full figure and tired eyes, you couldn't keep her out of your mind. Her arms and collarbone that faintly dusted with freckles caught your attention. You wondered if she hid more of them underneath her cozy looking attire, imagined how it would look like under the bustier fashioned out of your bedframe and headboard. Were her undergarments also made out of fluffed polymer, and hiding beneath them nethers in the same color as her attention-drawing hair?
It was all you could think about when you headed to bed at night, and tonight, in specific, you couldn't resist the lingering temptation in the back of your head. You reached across your duvet, stretching over your mattress and grabbing your Dateviators from your bedside table, the sound of Abel shuddering in surprise not necessarily reaching your ears, but assumed, as you grabbed the oculars and rested them on your ears.
Almost instantly, Betty caught your eye. Seductive is the word that comes to mind when you eye her position. She was laying there—on herself? You make a note to think about it later—head resting on one hand, as her elbow propped itself up onto a pillow, her other hand tracing lines with her incredibly manicured long nails over her thigh.
"Well, hey there," she says in that tone of voice that sounds half tired, half flirty, like she'd been up all night, trying to think of ways to fluster you. Her speech hangs in your ear moments more than it should before you catch yourself from gaping, and her smirk makes your skin flush as your heart speeds inside your ribcage. "Couldn't sleep?"
You stammer on your words for a second, blinking as if you're Mac trying to run a game on max graphics and buffering as you struggle to process it. You bring yourself to focus as you clear your throat and adjust your position, then tell her as smoothly as you can, "Uh... No. Not really."
Betty grins. The corner of her lips raise even as she clearly tries to stop them for a moment, before giving in to whatever she found so funny—maybe your stuttering, your flushed face, your awkwardness while talking to her. Take your pick. "Having nightmares?"
"N—no," you waveringly state, before you focus up your whole entire being to muster up courage and add, "Just... Couldn't stop thinking about you."
Betty raises an eyebrow, then chuckles amusedly—Damn, that laugh sounds good in your ear—and bites her lower lip, the way she usually always does. "I couldn't stop thinking about you either. But in my case, that's because you were just laying there, and you couldn't even see me. I thought Would you feel if I touched you? Unfortunately, you grabbed the glasses before I could find out."
Spurring out without thinking, you blurt out before she's even fully finished her speech, "You can touch me whenever you like."
"Oh?" Betty hums, prompting you to elaborate further as she scoots in just a little bit closer.
"I just meant—" you fumble out, shaking your head and stuttering as you try to come up with a way to correct what you blatantly meant in your entirety. "I mean... If you want to try and touch me when I can't see you, that's fine. I won't mind."
"Hm," Betty nods, entirely unconvinced in your poor excuse, before she notes, "You're blushing."
"A— Am I?" you ask with an awkward chuckle, now suddenly aware of how warm your body was. You pull on your pajama's collar, and realize you're laying in bed with a beautiful woman, while still wearing a shirt that read in bold: GIRLS ❤️ MY AUTISM SWAG, and a pair of old sweatpants. "Gee, I didn't even... Notice."
"You're adorable," Betty points out, reaching out a hand to run across your chest. "And really tense. Have you been stressed lately?"
"As stressed as someone who just got replaced by AI and lost their job can be," you shrug, averting your gaze from Betty's hand to try and ignore her touch—spoiler alert: it didn't work.
"D'aw," Betty clicks her teeth empathetically, sitting up on the bed and getting so close to you, you start wondering if you really remembered to brush your teeth before bed tonight. "Do you need a massage? I'm told I'm... Good with my hands."
You have to restrain yourself from yelling loud enough for your entire house to hear, Yes! Please touch me, Mommy! and instead reply, "Massages are nice..."
"Here, sit up, rest your back against me, nice and warm," she instructs, guiding you to rest your back against her chest. It's an almost immediate reaction, you feel her bust press up against your back muscles, even past the wood, and you shudder out something short of a moan, before she even puts her hands on you.
"Okay," you gulp, your shoulders tensed nervously as Betty trails her smooth fingers over your arms, softly scratching at your skin. You feel goosebumps wherever she touches, like your own body was craving this for so long, it feels the need to welcome her skin.
Betty tiptoes her fingers around your biceps—which probably need more training with Dunk, if we're being fully honest here—and presses her fingertips against your chest, kneading and pressing gently, though just roughly enough to get you grunting and sighing under her hands. She palms your pectorals so vigorously, it's like she expects to milk you from that end. You feel kind of nervous to try and tell her you can't actually produce milk, and the metaphor refers to another body part of yours, before she moves on to start massaging your stomach.
"B—Betty—!" you try and protest as her hands slip under your shirt, but it falls to deaf ears. Your moans are so loud now, you're certain half the objects in the house can hear you gasp and writhe under Betty's grasp.
Your bed runs her tender, smooth fingers over your middle, her pinky ever so often pulling at your waistband, as you feel yourself already anticipating her from under your sweatpants. Before she can do anything of the sort, however, your attention is grabbed when Betty breathes flush against your ear, and nibbles on your helix like it's a sweet treat.
"Betty..." you plead, practically whining in need as you grip the sleeves on her arms, pressing yourself deeper against her chest. "Please."
"Please?" Betty repeats back to you, chuckling softly as she licks your jaw from behind. "Do you want me to touch you, like you touch yourself every night, when you think no one's looking? You know I could hear you... Right?"
It's at that moment you realize that even living alone, you'd had over a hundred objects inside your very home, that were now all people, and they'd heard you touch yourself, and in Betty's case, probably seen it first hand. You wonder how many of them know exactly what you like to do to your own body. You take a moment to scold yourself for being so loud at times, then scoff as you throw the idea out the nearest Wyndolyn, and grasp Betty's sleeves like they're your lifeline.
"Yes," you nod, maybe a little too enthusiastically, but who's really watching to care? Well, besides your whole entire house. Maybe even your neighbors, who knows? You're too much of a depraved pervert to worry about being watched. "Please, Betty, I want it."
"Beg me for it," she hums. Her hands stop moving over your stomach, only resting over your skin that feels like it's seconds away from bursting into flames. "Beg me, just like you beg for release when you do it to yourself. And maybe I'll touch you."
"Please, please, please," you state, over and over again. You lose count of how many times you say it, your brain shutting off like the good little dumb whore Betty wants you to be, and functioning on full autopilot, seeking solely the pleasure only she can give you. "I need it, Betty. I need you. So bad."
Betty chuckles at that, biting her lip before she starts kissing down your neck, your collarbone and shoulder, her nails regaining movement to scratch and smooth over the skin in your pudgy, squishable stomach to purposefully leave behind marks.
"That's good," she praises, slipping a hand beneath your sweatpants and smoothing her fingertips over the wet spot you'd managed to form in your underwear. "Are you excited, baby? All hot and bothered for me? Hm?"
"Yes," you nod, gulping loudly as you buck up into her almost subconsciously. "Please Betty, I can't take this teasing anymore."
Betty hums, pondering the idea over as she runs her thumb over the top of your privates, sending shudders and shivers up your body in pleasure. You moan, but it's all over way before you can enjoy it fully.
Betty retracts her hand, licks over the sticky liquid you'd produced diligently for her, but then she kisses your cheek, pats your stomach like a dog after performing a trick, and she stands up.
You watch as Betty walks away, your eyes following after her. It takes a moment to process, you only watch her figure hungrily, then you realize she's not going away to come back with toys, she's just leaving.
"Betty?" you call weakly, your strained breathing louder than your own words. "Where are you going? I thought—"
Betty turns back to you. You can see the flush in her cheeks as she smiles down at you, before she blows you a kiss. "I'll be hearing you, if you want to continue without me."
"But—"
"Ah-ah," Betty shakes a finger as you try to stand up, stopping you in your tracks. "You can take care of yourself, right? You're an independent person, you can resolve your problems without Mommy's help. You have other... friends, too, don't you?"
You gulp, gaze flickering nervously as you realize she's referring to herself when she says the title, and not your actual mother. "Okay..."
Betty smiles contently, and you're forced to watch her go. She opens the bedroom door, winks at you from the doorway, then closes it behind her. You're left in your room, looking around with your Dateviators on to realize there's really nobody here but yourself now.
You look down at yourself, sighing quietly as you lower your pants. You blink, debating what to do—do as Betty says, and put on a show for her and the rest of the house to hear, or don't?
You go over what she just said to you a moment ago, You have other... friends, too, don't you?
You go to remove your glasses when you realize. You call for her, and almost instantly she's standing over you with a helpful smile, then she flushes as she realizes your current state.
"Skylar..." you mutter, pulling at her clothes. "Can you help?"
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