#asks and things

[octopusorbs]

You stole his pizza flavored canyon

"Sorry Snowflake, you shouldn't have left it out"

[cameoliob]

Dropping by to say that I'm ENAMORED I am OBSESSED with your depiction of and characterization of and BACKSTORY you've provided for Kallus

You're able to convey so much depth and complexity through your drawings alone. Just??? Wow??? Literally so impressive??

(I'd read a ten novel book series about your young Kallus. Just letting you know)

The effort and thought that goes into your art is so apparent it's all so 💖💖💖

(Let's all pretend this is a coherent message)

AHH THANK YOU SO MUCHH

I'm so glad that the work i put into those backstory drawings pays of :,)

[visions--of--collisions]

for @its-just-a-glitch who requested 200 words of an active work-in-progress, here is an uh er um slightly longer than 200 words-preview of:

EXCERPT: let me ease your mind (chapter 3) • hobie/miles, post-canon, omegaverse; rated: e

Hobie’s bladder woke him a couple hours later, albeit not as many as he would’ve liked, if the darkness was anything to go by. He grunted and dragged his cheek against the pillow under his head.

Miles was warm in his arms, muscles twitching in his sleep. He’d backed up against Hobie at some point in the night, and Hobie had performed some kind of death roll to accommodate him, apparently; the blankets were a tight cocoon that would’ve been cozy as anything if Hobie weren’t worried about pissing himself. He eased his arm out from underneath Miles and wormed his way up into a half-sit. Hobie propped his weight on his elbow as a yawn seized him, squeezing tears out of his eyes. He wiped them away with his knuckles and leaned over to peer at Miles’ face.

His eyes were darting about under his eyelids as he dreamt, but his brow was relaxed enough. A sheen of that weirdly clean-smelling heat sweat limned Miles’ shoulders; he’d lost his shirt again, which wasn’t all that surprising. He wasn’t quite a furnace under Hobie, as he gingerly crawled over Miles, but that was probably because Hobie ran fairly hot himself. However many hours spent cozying up under bedsheets had to have warmed them both up, besides. 

He peered over at his alarm clock, which had just ticked past four. Hobie sighed and laid his brow on Miles’s shoulder. Five hours and change would do it, alright. A shame it hadn’t been more than that. He reminded himself it could be, if he extricated himself sooner, but when Hobie shifted to do just that a hand fisted in his shirt. Miles turned his head, ribs quaking with a noise that was part-grumble, part-keen, all-protest.

“M’here, Miles, shhh. You’re alright.” Hobie buried his face in the curve where Miles’ neck became his shoulder. The tendons beneath his skin stretched and strained against him as Miles raised his chin to expose them. He pried Miles’ hand free and tangled their fingers together, holding them against his chest to feel the vibrations as he purred. “Need the lav; go to sleep, yeah? Be back in a sec.”

He spent a long minute nosing at the pulse thrumming under Miles’ jaw before he squeezed Hobie’s hand and relaxed against the mattress. Hobie felt his sleepy, reciprocal purr more than he heard it; he bussed Miles’ temple and clambered out from underneath the covers, tucking them over Miles’ hand before he crept out of the room.

It was dark enough that even the thought of turning on the bathroom light made Hobie’s eyes sting. He flicked on the galley light instead, and left the bathroom door open wide enough that he could see where he was aiming. After he’d flushed and washed his hands, Hobie shuffled back into the kitchen with his eyes mostly-closed to wet his suddenly-parched throat. As he was leaving his glass in the sink, the empty cooking pot on the draining board snagged his attention. Hobie thought for a minute, squinting in the direction of the fridge. He dug out some chicken breasts and half a pound of sausages and left them to defrost before he turned off the light and retreated back to bed.

The change in Miles’ scent was obvious, with the bedroom door shut behind him. Hobie crawled back into the nest as quietly as he could. Miles was turned away from him, hugging one of the spare pillows to his chest, but he wasn’t sleeping deep enough that he didn’t notice Hobie’s arrival. He’d barely settled his head on the pillow before Miles had backed up into him, his shoulder blades two hard, sharp points through Hobie’s thin shirt.

“Oof! Easy,” Hobie entreated, the surprised laughter huffing out of him. Miles’ only response was to continue shuffling until their lower halves were aligned to his satisfaction, and then to keep right on going. Hobie took the hint and got his arms around him, squeezing tight enough it made them both grunt. Miles writhed like he was trying to get free before he went lax, purring deep in his throat. His eyes were pleased slits in the darkness, when he rolled his head back.

Hobie could feel him rocking against the pillow he was still clutching at. The high, quiet noise Miles made when he tightened his arms left Hobie swallowing through a sudden thickness in his throat. He groaned under his breath and wet his lips. “Miles. Oi,” he mumbled. Hobie squeezed him again all when he got in response was a vague murmur and a brazen non-cessation of pillow-fucking. He bent his head to speak into Miles’ ear. “D’you need a minute? Where’s your stuff?”

The purring stopped. “I’m …” Miles croaked. “S’under the bed.” The almost-sweetness of the sweat on his temple didn’t quite distract Hobie from the way his hips kept moving. He was tempted to nudge a thigh between Miles’ legs. Instead, he pushed himself up and twisted around to grope about among the peripherals.

The leather satchel was lying on its side behind a discarded shirt; Hobie found the handles and dragged it out. He hefted it up onto the bed and turned to find Miles lying on his front, the pillow trapped underneath him. He turned his face away when Hobie met his eyes. “Man … You just got back in bed.”

Hobie reached over to rub his back. “Allow that. Couch is already set up and all; I’ll be cotched.” There was a damp spot starting on the back of Miles’ shorts, visible even in the gloom. He pulled the blankets up over it, arranging them around Miles’ shoulders. “Wake us when you’re done. If you ain’t out like a light after,” Hobie added, nudging him.

Miles didn’t answer right away. He’d stopped moving, finally; his face was buried in Hobie’s sateen pillowcase. If he didn’t know Miles better than that, he might’ve thought he was sulking. Hobie sighed through his nose. “I can’t stay if we ain’t talked it out first, mate,” he said, quietly.

Miles turned his head, settling his cheek against the pillow. His face was flushed, the corners of his mouth down-turned. “I know,” he mumbled. “Sorr–”

“Boy, if you say sorry …!” Hobie shoved his shoulder lightly, jokingly mean-mugging at him from a few inches away. Miles swallowed, noisily. Hobie kneaded his back again. “Ask me later,” he offered.

Miles looked at him with dark eyes. “What’ll you do?” he murmured. When Hobie just stared at him, he added, “If I say ‘sorry.’ What are you gonna do?”

“I …!” The surprise and delight winded him for a second, filling up his throat. Unable to speak, Hobie pressed his teeth into Miles’ shoulder, blankets and all. The purring had started up again; a thin vibration he could feel right through the layers. Hobie shoved himself off the bed, feeling a bit like a fish that had managed to escape its hook. “I am gonna leave this room like I said I would!” he declared. He fished a piece of blanket fuzz out of his mouth as discreetly as he could. Hobie glanced at the empty space next to his alarm clock and hesitated. “D’you need water?”

“I don’t need water,” Miles hummed. The blankets shifted as he moved underneath them.

“Okay, alright,” Hobie scoffed, playing at disapproving while something not far removed from glee filled his lungs like smoke. He snatched his patched dressing gown out of the nest and reached down to scruff the back of Miles’ neck. “There's fresh batteries in the inside pocket. Be good,” Hobie said, and walked out before Miles’ breath could even.

[TO BE CONTINUED]

[woobifiedvillain]

hello! forgive me if this is too forward but I 👀 so very much want to hear about your NMJ fic if that's okay 👀.

Aaah yeah! I'd love to to talk about it, you're not too forward, thank you for asking :D

The premise of the fic is basically "everything is the same except the first time JGY plays Song of Turmoil for NMJ (book canon, so immediately post stairs fight and burning of NHS' things), NMJ recognizes the song, and knows what it is/does". The why he can recognize it is secret reasons that would spoil the plot, but :))). And the point of that whole thing boils down to "I will get nieyao to talk about their issues and actually listen to/understand each other, dammit". What better way to force a conversation than "So. Are you. I see you're trying to kill me. Touche.(Is this because I threw you down the stairs and called your mom a whore)"

Now for a really long explanation of some of the meta/ideas behind how I got there bc why not.

I think both NMJ and JGY care about each other a lot - even once this care turns into hate, the mutual obsession is certainly a motive to question and understand the other, if not necessarily for altruistic reasons. Which. Tbh I'm not sure if this is going to end up with them being reconciled, exactly. I'm not sure if it would work at this point in the timeline, I'm not sure if I want that, I don't feel like I want to write out that much plot, also. But. It is going to end with them understanding each other on a deeper level, which they get so close to and just miss every single time they talk basically, and I think the misunderstanding leads to their fates, so fixing it probably leads to an open ending that points to possibilities other than the mutually assured tragedy coffin, TM.

The fic wasn't originally meant to be as much of a NMJ character study as it ended up being. The reason it did, is because I knew what to give JGY to help him chill out and talk, but couldn't settle on what would do that for NMJ. Like. My interpretation of them is like I said, they *want* to understand each other, but don't not because they can't (they're. actually very similar in interesting ways and have the potential to see each other in ways other characters don't), but because they each have very specific blinders up to cope with their own existances. These blinders just so happen to prevent them from seeing the whole point behind the others frustrations, and also leads them to fucking with each others deepest neuroses in the worst ways. But. JGY - I see him as someone who really just needs. Safety. And some respect, specifically in a way that doesn't leave him feeling indebted to anyone, or perpetually needing to please someone to keep said respect and security. While I don't know how to do that, in terms of wider worldly circumstances that make society see JGY as dirty/lesser/unworthy of desiring a better quality of life. I do think his *desires* are fairly straightforward despite his snakely impulses. So if the goal is "how can they feel safe enough to see their own blinders", I felt like I understood the shape of what I'd need to give JGY.

Not so much. with NMJ. I really liked your post about the whole "NMJ does have hobbies actually, we just don't get to see them, nobody does, and JGY can't figure out what to give him". But I was stuck on the same thing as JGY in that scene. I think NMJs blinders are there on purpose, as a reaction to the whole saber curse/anger issues/resigned to own death out of duty and also afraid to trust his own judgement since a young age. Thing. So to get him to reconsider his carefully constructed decision making structures that are sympathetic but, quite black and white, and brittle, which lead to the issue with JGY, I have to give him a way out. But he's *not* going to give up his cultivation style, so, well why.

Because that would mean giving up his ability to protect people he cares about. I don't think NMJ has any deep regard for social custom, and so I don't think the whole "changing anything about our cultivation would be going against tradition and that's bad" is the conflict to think about. It's NMJ seeing his own death not as inevitable, but as something he must do, because he *has* to cultivate, to be sect leader, to protect people in the only way he knows how. And if it kills him so be it.

Which is how I got to the whole backstory behind why he would recognize the Song of Turmoil. It has to do with his childhood - I used the outline/vague information we do get in canon, but added pizzaz. And trauma! (Side note: I haven't seen Fatal Journey. I didn't know it existed when I started writing this, and now I'm waiting till after I've written this bc I feel like it would be too much canon and ideas to mix together you know).

NMJs desire to protect is sympathetic, and core to his character, and I wasn't interested in. Idk. Just taking it away, or making him make choices that he simply *would not* without being very OOC. So the point of his backstory (most of the fic consists of a flashback sequence) is to initially give him the same neuroses/moral system/values etc that he has in canon. But. To also give him a specific trauma having to do with this song, and uh, murder, and lying, in a way that freaks him out enough to question and change his rigid thinking in a way he simply would not in canon. Though like I said, until the Turmoil scene everything is the same. Partly because. He's repressing shit. JGY should have chosen a different murder method bc now da-ge has reason to reconsider some things he has simply been not thinking about :))) to cope :)))

Also the whole backstory that idk how to get more into without revealing too much (because. There is actually very little plot. It's mostly emotions? So it's not that I can't mention anything it's that despite the flashback being idk 15k words long, the actual events could be summarized in three sentences, and idk how to allude to them without doing exactly that). The whole backstory follows this interesting theme most characters share in the novel which the Nie brothers lack, (so I made them. not lack it. yay) - The ability to understand specific ways society is unjust and fucked up because of what happens to their mothers. (For example. not just JGY but the Lan brothers and how they relate to people and secrets/lies, cannot be understood fully without the context of what happened to their mom. And I think the Nie bros deserve that context as well!).

I think NMJ deeply understands some of the ways society is fucked up (for example, it does not guarantee or even give a fuck about truth or justice) because of the circumstances of his father's death. And the ensuing. Denial and acceptance of murder in the face of political hierarchy. But he doesn't get a lot of JGYs frustrations about society, even though he does get that society is frustrating. So in honor of "oh shit I don't want to replicate my mothers tragedy" the novel, I have also given NMJ and NHS's mothers. A more detailed tragedy.

Which also kindof. Intensifies some fears I think NMJ has in canon. Like a distrust of his own emotions and an unwillingness to make decisions out of anger (and so doubling down on a rigid existing decision framework in an attempt to avoid making decisions in the moment, which unfortunately also doesn't allow for the nuanced considerations necessary for actual empathy and justice). But now :)) he has reason to be even more terrified of the Nie saber curse-

Specifically. Remember how I said he would never give it up bc he sees it necessary to protect those he loves. Still. true. In this fic. But. Now, thanks to le tragic backstory, he has reason to fear the results of the deterioration, and the possibility that it could actually lead him to harm the people he wants to protect the most, to be slightly more desperate and willing to try a different way out. Also I did this because his lack of reaction to burning NHS' things, especially when NHS throws himself at the fire, never sat right with me. That scene in particular made me want to shake him and be like dude I get it I get your need for him to be strong and able to protect himself from the world which you think he can't do if he doesn't practice saber, etc, it's because you care. BUt!!! That was very fucked up. Go reflect in the corner and then talk to your brother, please. So the backstory eventually accomplishes that as well. This is. Also a Nie brothers feels fic, it seems, because you really can't think about NMJ as a character without analyzing his brother too, apparently. I love them.

Ok this was. Quite a ramble but. Thank you for asking about it and if this wasn't what you meant/if you have like. Specific things you want to know or talk about, please feel free to ask!

Oh also here's an excerpt, even though. It's still a draft.

“Nie-Zongzhu.”

“Don’t call me that” Nie Mingjue snarled, whirling around, his heart writhing in his chest, fluttering yet frantic, like one of Huaisang’s birds making a desperate bid for escape. 

Why is he - It couldn’t be - It can’t 

Just last week, a beautiful spotted dove, startled by Nie Minjue’s abrupt entrance, had leapt from the cage Huaisang left open while attempting to coax it into accepting help for a broken wing. 

Foolish, undisciplined, stupid Huaisang, fretting over injured birds while their father lay dying - 

Unable to fly, the bird had crashed head first into the floor, breaking it’s neck with a faint snap.

Why would he put the cage so high up to begin with 

Why did the stupid creature throw itself from the cage so frantically, it must have known it couldn’t fly away 

Why - 

Why is he calling me that 

“Nie-Zongzhu-”

The room was far too warm. Why was it so warm? When had it - 

It was always cold in the Unclean Realm, even in the summer, with the high walls and stone floors blocking out most of the already faint northern sun, the stone floors leaching warmth through the thickest boots. 

But that had never bothered Nie Mingjue, who had inherited his father’s stature and his mother’s warmth, who Second Mother liked to tease and call a human furnace, both physically and in temperament - a comparison he much preferred to ones like “wildfire”, though he’d long since understood never to voice that - 

Second Mother gripped his shoulder, - gentle but firm, a gesture she continued even as he grew so tall she could only do so by using her full reach - “A-Jue” she stared up at him, something in her still-warm eyes he didn’t remember seeing before, at least not shown so clearly for him to see “My fiery boy, I know you feel things strongly and I know it’s because you care so much, but you musn’t be so harsh-”

No, the cold had only ever bothered Huaisang, or at least, he’d been the only one to voice it. And voice it he did, loudly, repeatedly, with great theatric accompaniment - Though wasn’t it understandable, given his brother's small stature, a barely-there golden core and constitution too weak to stave off frequent illnesses- 

Maybe if the damned boy practiced more, cared at all about improving his cultivation - 

Their father insisted Huaisang would outgrow the fragility, must outgrow it, as sect heir, and while Nie Mingjue understood the concern behind his words, the demand to grow stronger, stay safe, harness as much power as you can before it starts to turn on you - 

He didn’t agree with his father’s assertion that A-Sang was playing weak for attention. His brother had always been prone to theatrics, but not outright lies, and Nie Mingjue knew Huaisang, though he would never claim so much in front of Nie Zongzhu- 

Not like he would ever listen - 

If a silly voice that sounded like a child screamed, on occasion, that their father should listen, that he should be allowed to defend Huaisang, that not every difference was necessarily a sign of weakness, that perhaps he should be allowed to go somewhere warmer, softer, to be kept safe and allowed to grow in the sun for as long as he could - 

If he had once hoped that if he cried loudly enough his father would listen because it was him, his son - 

Foolish. Childish. Shut up.

[ghostxmagnet]

(@chelseashellbell)

Hey uh. I saw some weird looking Braviary flying north towards Eterna. Pretty sure they're Hisuian. Maybe they're headed for the Lake Acuity or something, I don't know.

I looked it up, turns out they can be pretty hostile. Thought I'd let you know. Do you have any idea who I should maybe contact about this?

oh shit i missed this since i was offline. thanks for letting me know.

i'm not sure but possibly friendball-irl? i think they're a part of the group trying to do something about the hisuian variants. or someone in #radstealth? i've mostly stayed out of things because i'm not in the battle scene anymore unfortunately, so i'm not 100% on who all is a part of that.

[larrydoinglaundry]

Got any good omega Harry fic recommendations. Not enough people appreciate it.

Hi! Omega Harry is such a beautiful thing but people are too hung up on his 'big size' and think he can't be a cute omega :( I wonder how does it feel to be wrong. I have one short omega harry rec list here, for personal favorites.

Let's do a couple more, with more recent ones or recently found for me. As always, read tags before you read. 🔒 means you need an AO3 account to read.

The Money Mark by @brightgolden (52K, E)

Where Louis is Harry’s first sugar daddy who dumped him over text and their paths cross, seven years later.

Loved this. Simple as. It has wonderful a/b/o dynamics, where their inner "wolves" can sometimes react questionably or even make the chracacter embarrassed by how their bodies work. It also has one of my fave tropes which is 'exes to lovers'.

Make me dizzy (rest it in my fingertips) by stretchmybones (1K, E)

"So pretty for me, princess,” Louis cooed, kneeling in between Harry’s legs, spread wide with the help of the spreader bar attached to his ankles, “All laid out for me to see."

Short but gold. Little bit of feminization, light BDSM. Just Louis appreciating his pretty omega, in all of his large wonderfulness.

Keep me closer by @zanniscaramouche (18K,T)

Louis expects Harry to react poorly, maybe even file a formal complaint and that’s gonna suck ass but Louis won’t say shit cause he knows he deserves it, so he prepares an apology before Harry’s even turned around. What he doesn’t expect is Harry to fucking drop.

Touch starvation is one of my favorite topics in a/b/o and this captured so well. I look away from GA and T rated fics toooo often because I feel like they are too tame for me (not just the lack of smut, but in general) but this was so perfect.

Stumbling into your arms by @sunshineandthemoonlight (6K, M)

Louis and Harry are university students heading home for the holidays. Harry quickly becomes enraptured by the attractive alpha standing across from him in the train carriage, who has a heavenly scent and a gentle smile.

Oi oi, I'm weak for meeting strangers in trains and tubes and what not, and then being so blissfully pained as their body is brushing against you. I'm an absolute hoe for how instincts and scents work in this verse. I believe this is a series that is still unfinished. I need to know what happens next!! Nudge, nudge, author.

I kiss you (across hundreds of seperating years) by @hlpdf (36K, M)

The stars and two amused boys are playing cupid, and there are one too many coded love letters and a duck plushie that smells like home.

Ok, ok, hear me out. This is not exactly omega Harry but it's not really an alpha Harry either, so this is where I'll put it for now. Maybe some day I'll do a rec list of non-traditional fics. Basically, Harry is an alpha but he's struggling with the gender and things that come with it. If you want and love soft Harry, I really wish you'll give this a chance.

'Til everything changes by lovelarry10 (57K,E)

Harry’s an Omega who has been alone for too long. Louis’ an Alpha who is scared to find love again. Thanks to the meddling of Harry’s teenage daughter and her boyfriend, the two seem destined to meet, and it might just change everything they thought they knew about their lives.

A treasure I once skipped because I wasn't a fan of older larry but I gave it a chance and fell in love. I loved the kids and what they brought into the story. Def recommend.

Lunch Break by purpleeyesstelllies (3K, E)

Harry decides to bring his alpha lunch at work and surprise him with a visit from him and their baby daughter. Louis gets more than one surprise.

This is a wonderful combination of sweetness and smut. End of story. Just... Phew.

Through the wire 🔒 By Awriterwrites (10K, E)

Harry goes in heat while Louis is away. Lucky for them both, Liam is a good friend.

Ok, so. Be aware that this fic features lirry. It's a larry fic, but in order to help Harry through his heat, Liam jumps in and follows Louis' instructions via phone. The dynamic is so great, with Harry being heat-hazy and Liam fighting between his insticts as an alpha and staying loyal to his friend. One of my favorites now.

This chemistry like candy to me by @larrydoinglaundry (19K, E)

Harry is 8 months pregnant with a poor balance and traitorous nipples. Unfortunately for him, that is precisely when he meets a beautiful alpha in a packed London Tube. Fortunately for him, the said alpha might just be the best thing he has ever come across.

Yeah, okay, this one is mine and I can't really rec it or give review. If you haven't read it yet, maybe you should.

[inkstainedkeyboard]

ahhh i was reading your tags from the tips about latino characters post and i totally feel you with the diego thing, especially after david confirmed in an interview that diego doesn't speak spanish at all and isn't in touch with the culture of his birthplace (which is pretty obvious since none of the siblings are)

it's completely out of character and the fact that it usually happens during smut is... ugh concerning to say the least 😤

ooh I don't think I saw that interview but it just proves even more that it's a weird/gross thing to do!

the Öga for Öga scene shows he's not good at other languages. the fact that it's like, only dirty talk in Spanish makes my skin itch.