#❯. ─── IF YOU'LL BE THE INK‚ I'LL BE THE PAGE // [WRITTEN]

[inquisimail]

dai love interests' letters to the inquisitor in veilguard, if anyone was curious to see them. transcriptions in alt text & under cut

Amatus,

I'm writing. Again. Yes, the sending crystals still work and yes, you'll be in Minrathous in a few short weeks. But a letter, written in blind longing, is real. It can be touched, and it can be held, when ink and paper must substitute for your skin on mine and my breath in your ear.

I used to scoff at frequent declarations of affection. Trite, I thought. Save them for rare and precious moments. But time and love are no longer things I care to squander, especially not as we race again toward calamity. And so, in each of these fleeting, ephemeral seconds, I will tell you that I love you. Whether penned or spoken, or conveyed by glance or action, I love you. In this moment, and in all the moments to come, for as long as they do, I love you.

I will find you soon.

Yours, Dorian

---

My love,

You have summoned me to Minrathous, and I will answer your call, as soon as responsibilities here in the South allow. I have missed being by your side.

Will these troubles be the last we face? The world seems always to conspire, through duty or disaster, to pull you away from me. I do not resent it. You are dedicated to purposes far larger and more significant than myself. I hope you do not think me a fool for hoping that one day, your only concern will be the color you wish our walls to be painted, or the flowers we will plant beside our gate. I'm partial to carnations.

Yours always, Thom

---

My love,

We are no strangers to duty, or the separation it demands of us. You head for Tevinter, and though I want to go with you, there is work we both must do. I will not falter in the tasks that wait before me and I pray my actions, in whatever measure they can, will keep you safe.

The others see only confidence in my resolve, but you have always known more than mere appearance. I confess to you, and you alone, that I am afraid. I'm afraid of what may happen, that Thedas will face such turmoil as it did before. I know not what awaits us. Yet even in the face of uncertainty, there are two things I cannot doubt and never will. The first is that our paths are never separated long. That I will find you at my side when I need you, as you will find me at yours. I will play my part in this and follow as soon as I can.

The second thing I never doubt is you. Whatever lies before you, trust yourself. Trust your heart as I trust it. It will not lead you astray.

Yours, Cassandra

---

Hey, Kadan,

Not the first time we've marched toward different battles. I know you're keeping the crap from catching fire up in Tevinter. Wish I could be there, but I'll make sure there's a world for you to come back to when you're done dealing with crazy vints and stupid Antaam and whatever other crap Solas kicked up. (Shit, the Antaam. Remember when I was worried what would happen if I went tal-vashoth? That right there!)

I know you're gonna be careful, and you've got Morrigan there. Just take care of yourself. If anything happens to you, I'm going to have to take Krem and the Chargers and stomp across all of Tevinter to come get you. It'll be a whole thing, and you know it'll upset Dorian.

Being apart from you made me realize something else. I spent so long being whatever the Ben-Hassrath wanted me to be. An investigator. An agent. A mercenary sending reports. These past years, since the Inquisition ended, I've been able to be just what I want to be.

And what I really want to be is yours. I like the person I am when I'm with you.

So come back safe.

Love, The signature appears to be a stylized rendering of the Iron Bull's head.

---

(An artistically doodled journal page presumably from the Inquisitor's partner, Sera.)

Keep this as close as I need you. (A drawing of a pile of flowers, with lines like it's moving, an arrow pointing to it labeled "us.")

North again, Mini-wrathus still stuck up its own pucker.

Magiturds are scared of us. They don't even know.

We work with Maevaris, right? She's wow.

So many Friends! Jennies in all the walls!

We kill him this time. He took from us twice! (A drawing of a cracked egg scribbled out, with "can't even joke" in letters that tore the page.)

Still thinking of you sideways.

Never mind the Dalish, here's the Veil Jumpers! Tempest-kin! (A drawing of a tall, shorthaired elf (Sera?) and Irelin brandishing two fingers, backflipping as a tree explodes in runes.)

The memory thing makes my head spin. If that Rook doesn't take it, throw it out.

Tell Morrigan ppbbth! for me.

I'll also tell her ppbbth! She knows why.

Tell them to Stripe. Him. Up. I wanted more books. (More heavy scribbles that tear.)

You meet; I'll keep you safe. Then I'm your time off, and you're my time on.

(The last section has different colored inks, like Sera has returned to it several times.)

New naked names: -Sweet-tits (scribbled out) -Bestest (scribbled out) -Loverly (scribbled out) -Lovey (scribbled out) -My-for-always-and-ever - name's not too long, time's too short. -But "Sweet-tits," though (scribbled out)

---

The top of the letter has been punctured by small, sharp teeth, leaving most of a beloved name and a few sentences too chewed to read.

I fear the puppy started on this letter shortly after I did. I'd start over, but I must send this tonight if it's to reach you. Matters are settled here and I make for Tevinter as soon as possible.

I almost believed chaos might spare us this time. I can't say I wished to see Minrathous before now, but I am eager to see you. I long to see your face and know that you're all right. You are— I've— There's— I wish that I was better at putting into writing all that's in my mind. For now, simply know that I love you. It is the most cherished constant of my life.

The days ahead will not be easy. I know there's much you carry, more than many realize. But whatever you must face, you will not meet it alone. You have my sword, my counsel, my—I could write this list forever when all I mean to say is this—

Whatever you need of me, I am yours.

Cullen

---

My Dearest Lady, / My Dearest Lord,

I have spoken to friends in Minrathous. They offer us their hospitality, not to mention shelter from the worst intrigues of the Archon's Palace. While you're well acquainted with the roving eyes of grand courts, please take care. Tevinter's regard can be the oldest and cruelest of them all.

The family writes the weather back home is beautiful. I do miss our quiet times together.

There is a question I've wanted to ask you for so long. I would like to pretend I have been busy, or it was not the proper time. But, if I am being honest, I only waited because I have been afraid of choosing a poor moment. Please, let me make a promise to you here.

When we return to Antiva, I will ask you, on the steps of the estate, if you will do me a great honor. And I dream you will say yes.

Always yours, Josephine

Postscript: I cannot believe it nearly slipped my mind. Yvette and Lord Otranto send their best wishes, and hope to see us back home in time to welcome their third child.

[onddau]

Days passed, their research sessions a constant push and pull. Draco seemed to delight in riling Hermione up, and she found herself unable to contain her frustration. She swore to Merlin he was doing it on purpose.

His "accidental" ink spill on her meticulously written notes had been the last straw. The memory of his smug smile still made her blood boil.

Now, Hermione sat at their shared desk, book in one hand and rifling through papers with the other. "Malfoy, what do you think about substituting ashwinder eggs for—" She looked up, realizing he wasn’t paying attention. He sat there, seemingly absorbed in a book, ignoring her completely. Again.

Hermione gritted her teeth. "Malfoy, I asked you a question."

Silence.

Hermione slammed her book shut. "I swear to Godric, if you don't look at me and answer this question, I'll—"

"You'll what, Granger?" Draco drawled, still not looking up. "Dock points? Give me detention?"

Hermione gritted her teeth, frustration building. "This is supposed to be a partnership, Malfoy. The least you could do is acknowledge me when I'm speaking to you."

Draco flipped a page in his book, seemingly oblivious to her growing anger.

Something in Hermione snapped, but this time, a different idea formed in her mind. She stood, circling the desk slowly, her voice dropping to a controlled, almost dangerous tone. "Malfoy. I asked you a question."

When he continued to feign interest in his book, Hermione made her move. She gripped the back of his chair, tilting it back slightly. Leaning in close, she placed one hand on his chest, the other on the chair behind him.

"I said," she murmured, her face inches from his, "I asked you a question."

Draco’s eyes widened in surprise, his usual smirk faltering. For once, he seemed at a loss for words.

Hermione allowed herself a tiny but confident smile. "What's wrong, Malfoy? Kneazle got your tongue?"

She watched as he swallowed hard, his eyes flickering briefly to her lips before meeting her gaze again.

"I... what was the question again?" he managed, his voice slightly hoarse.

Hermione’s smile widened, enjoying this newfound power. "The ashwinder eggs. Yes or no?"

Draco nodded quickly. "Yes. Definitely yes."

But as Hermione began to pull away, Draco’s surprise transformed into intrigue. His hand shot out, gently catching her wrist.

"Not so fast, Granger," he murmured, his eyes locked on hers. "I think I like this new side of you."

Hermione breath caught as Draco stood slowly, bringing them face to face.

"Who knew you had it in you?" he continued, his voice low and teasing. "All this time, I thought I was the only one playing with fire."

Hermione tried to maintain her composure, but she could feel her cheeks heating up. "I'm not playing anything, Malfoy. I'm trying to get work done."

"Are you sure about that?" Draco challenged, his thumb tracing small circles on her wrist. "Because it seems to me like you might be enjoying this little... tension between us."

Hermione pulled her hand away, but didn't step back. "You're imagining things."

Malfoy's smirk widened. "Am I? Well, there's only one way to find out, isn't there?"

He leaned in slightly, and for a heart-stopping moment, Hermione thought he might kiss her. Instead, he whispered in her ear, "Let's see who breaks first, shall we?"

As he pulled back, Hermione found herself both relieved and oddly disappointed. She watched as Draco returned to his seat, picking up his quill with infuriating nonchalance.

"Now, about those ashwinder eggs," he said, as if nothing had happened. "I think they're a brilliant idea. Don't you, Granger?"

Hermione nodded mutely, trying to regain her composure as she sat down. This project had just become a lot more complicated – and a lot more interesting.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

A Fate Fought For

How heartfelt. This is part 19 of 20. We tie up loose ends.

Tale of the Cursed Raven: Part 1 I Part 2I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5 I Part 6 I Part 7 I Part 8 | Part 9 I Part 10 I Part 11 I Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18

Knock, knock.

Crowley’s knuckles pause. He waits, straining his ear, waiting for a reply—or at least some sign of life.

His niece has been holed up in her room for the past… He has lost track of how long. The few times she has emerged, she is progressively more and more haunted. Pale complexion, dark circles under her eyes, a hollow expression.

She had stopped leaving entirely for three whole days.

He knocks again, this time calling out. His voice is thin and desperate.

“Raven-kun? Raven-kun, are you awake…? It’s your dear old uncle!”

The panic sets in when he’s met with silence. He fiddles with the doorknob, then feels for the keys dangling from his waist.

“Young lady!! I am respecting your privacy but asserting my authority as your guardian by coming in anyway!!” he crowed, inserting a skeleton key into the lock and turning.

The door swings open.

His jaw drops.

“Wh-What happened here?!”

The place is a terrible mess, even moreso than usual. Bookcases have toppled over, their contents spilling and making the floor a maze of covers and pages to wade through. Handprint-shaped ink stains paint the walls, as if a ghoul were desperately trying to claw out from the underworld. And there, in the center of the wreck, is a small body slumped over a writing desk.

Crowley rushes to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. But he sees the quill jutting out of her left hand and startles.

“R-Raven-kun?!”

“… Mmmm…”

Raven shifts under his touch. Her eyes flutter, and he sees the warm honey rings of her irises. Tired, but still bright.

“… Uncle? What are you doing?”

“That is what I would like to know!!” He jabbed a finger at her injured hand. “You’ve gone and hurt yourself, silly girl! Hold still. We must treat this immediately.”

Crowley raises his walking stick and gives it a wave. Items from a first aid kit materialize and float down.

He sets to his work, using a clean cloth to apply pressure to the injury site. Raven squeals, but plays the part of a good patient by squeezing her eyes shut and bearing with it. The blackened ooze breaks.

Then comes the water, a small sterile stream from midair rinsing off the area. A bottle of ointment uncaps and applies itself—she winces. The quill slowly unlodges, magic suspending the bodily fluids until a fresh dressing is applied neatly over top.

Raven watches in quiet awe.

“There we are.” Crowley gentle pats the bandaged hand. “Now then, would you mind explaining yourself?”

Raven blinks. “… Sometimes I forget what a powerful mage you are.”

“Hmm? Oh—well…!!” The headmaster flushes. “It’s not everyday that I receive such kind praise!!”

He stops.

“W-Wait just a minute, don’t change the subject!” He indicates the room. “What happened here last night?!”

Raven lowers her gaze to the papers at her desk. Crowley follows it, coming across a paper stained a brilliant sky blue. Hastily scribbled over it, as if written by the hand of a madman, is three lines.

But she still dared to dream.

And she lived happily ever after.

The end.

“I wrote my magnum opus with my blood, sweat, and tears,” Raven says very quietly. “The only story I know how to tell from beginning to end. Mine.”

She tries to rise from the desk and nearly careens to one side. Crowley catches her and tuts.

“You need to lie down and rest, some food in your belly as well!” he lightly scolds. “Here, come to your bed.”

Raven clutches onto him tightly. Using him as an anchor, she hoists herself up on trembling feet.

“… I can’t.”

“What?”

“I can’t. I have to…” She shakes her head. “There are things I must tend to first. A blue letter in my drawer that needs to be read, classmates I must talk to..."

“Not in that state, you won’t!! You'll stay put until further notice. To your bed--I'll brew you a cup of tea, perhaps that will whet your appetite. Maybe some rice porridge after?" Crowley coos, smoothed her hair down. “With sunny side egg eyes and a bacon smile!”

She peers up at him. Her cheeks are wet with trails of tears.

"Oh dear, oh dear! You're crying now?" He cups her face and brings her to his chest. “You’ll tell me what’s wrong, won’t you?”

"N-Nothing. Nothing’s wrong, I just..." Raven wipes at her eyes, sniffling loudly. "Uncle, you…”

“Is it something I’ve done? Come, out with it.”

There’s a nervous, stuttery laugh.

“You really are so very, very kind. And your hands... Have they always been this warm?"

Raven leans into his palm and openly weeps.

He lets her.

She’s definitely a goner now,” a mob student declares. “It’s been weeks.“

The comment is made in 1-A's homeroom, in the hallways, in the courtyard and cafeteria, all over campus. Kon leaves his classes with a weight on his chest, pushing the breath out of him.

He doesn’t want it to be the end, not like this. Not when what he last recalls of her is an unanswered question, a hand left untaken. And a girl petrified, as if the blade of a guillotine loomed above her.

I hope she’s okay.

“Kon?”

He lifts his head. To either side of him are his friends—students from Scarabia and Pomefiore, respectively. Cyril, pale with his fluffy violet mop and Augustine, tanned and dirty blonde hair cut short.

“Something up?” Augustine asks, digging an elbow into his side. “You have that faraway look in your eyes again.”

“I’m thinking about… stuff.”

“Your missing classmate?” Cyril suggests. For as long as Kon has known him, he’s been good at reading people. Guessing, Cyril calls it—but he’s always been humble.

“This again? You shouldn’t waste your energy on that. She’s a lost cause,” Augustine snips. He’s gruffer that Cyril and Kon combined, quick to cut to the chase. “And anyway, it’s not like you were super close or anything.”

“Well, no. But it still doesn’t feel good, knowing the person you sit next to in class is… There’s an empty seat. It’s sad.”

It’s lonely.

“Accept it and move on, bro. Wherever she is, whatever happened to her, she’s not comin’ back.

“Are you sure?” Cyril squints into the distance. “… But isn’t that her right now? The one running around over there.”

“What?” Kon throws his gaze across the courtyard.

A black bundle darts from student to student, pigtails whipping back and forth. She stops before each person, her mouth a burst of movement. The girl executes a bow, then goes to the next student.

“R-Raven-san?!”

She turns in the direction of her name. Smiles, then begins making her way toward him.

Kon gulps. “You’re… okay.”

“Yes. I had to take some much needed time off. Headmaster’s orders,” she says, holding up her bandaged hand.

Her cheeks are pink, eyes rimmed red, forehead coated with a light shine. Has she been running around for a while? Kon wonders. Or… crying? Both?

“Th-That’s a relief.” He attempts to return her smile.

Raven passes a look between Cyril and Augustine. “… Oh, are these the friends you told me about?“

“Y-Yeah. Um…” Kon gestures vaguely at them. “Cy is a second year in Scarabia. August is a third year in Pomefiore. Guys, this is Raven-san from my class.”

Cy waves.

August gives a noncommittal grunt.

“It’s nice to meet you!” Raven chirps. Again, she bows. “Starting today…! I hope we can have a strong working relationship!”

The mob students stare at her. “Uh…okay?”

“You too, Kon-san!”

“E-Eh, me?!”

“Of course.” She rights herself. “You’re important too. Let’s all get along!”

With that, Raven bounds off, leaving the confused mob students. Her heart skips, matching her frantic paces. Feeling so free.

She stops whenever she spots someone. Teacher, student, ghost. An introduction offered, followed by a hopeful wish.

“Let’s all get along!”

Raven clears the Main Building, exiting into the spring time.

The air is sweet and whipped airy like a mousse. The sun is out, lighting errant pink petals on the wind.

Another day, priceless.

How pretty.

“The apple blossoms are beautiful,” a soft voice remarks, echoing her sentiments.

In the corner of her vision, a shape shifts into view.

It’s a lady with a flowery parasol, her gown a deep emerald hue. Her hair is golden, some of it done up in a milkmaid’s braid, the rest falling in waves down her back. A pearly shimmer radiates from her delicate, pixie-like features—button nose, rose cheeks, rounded eyes. One deep violet eye peers at her, the other half of her face covered by a swoop of flaxen locks.

Wow, Raven marvels, it’s like a storybook princess came to life.

“They are,” she manages as politely as she can.

“Ah, my apologies,” the lady gasps, fingers knitting over her mouth. “I didn’t mean to interrupt whatever it was that you were doing. Student life must be so busy."

"Oh no, it's fine!" Raven stammers. She feels compelled to drop to a curtsey before her. "You must be from Foothill Town...?"

"From beyond that," she says mysteriously. "I've come to see someone. An old acquaintance, one might say--but they aren't expecting it. I know them, but they do not know me."

Raven tilts her head. "That’s a strange conundrum. Do you need help locating them? I may not be the best with directions, but I’m certain I could at least escort you to a help desk.”

She giggles. “They needn’t be aware. After all… I have already been watching from afar for quite some time.”

“You have?” A vague sensation trails along Raven’s back. Light taps, as if her spine is a xylophone being played. “What changed, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“They did.” Her single violet eye shuts. “… It was not the ending I was expecting. They defied my expectations of them.”

There is no fire to her words. No ice either. She is devoid of feeling.

Raven doesn’t know why, but she shivers in the middle of that spring day.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” she asks hesitantly.

The stranger tilts her parasol down, shielding her expression from view. “It is simply ‘a thing’. It would not be wise to invest too much of oneself in what is only a story.”

A story?

Raven’s ears perk, her eyes blowing wide.

“… What did you just say?”

But when she looks back at the stranger, they are already gone. Vanished without a trace on a warm wind.

Raven clutches her heart. She has not noticed until now—it is at a gallop.

“Who was that…?”

In the midst of judging the wildflowers cut for the lounge, Vil is called away from his work. He turns away from the crystal vases and moving to receive the surprise guest.

The rain had come in the afternoon. Not a sprinkle, but a downpour. Hard and rhythmic against their pointed turrets. If the lack of appointment didn't deterred visitors, then the weather most definitely would have.

The double doors open to reveal a small figure. She is drenched to the bone, her feathers and hair sodden, flat with water weight.

“Shetland potato.” Vil’s hands find his hips. If he has sympathy for waterlogged animals, he doesn't show it in his stern glare. "It has been some time. What brings you to Pomefiore, hmm? Are you looking to resume your etiquette lessons with me, since it seems you haven’t the manners to know it’s highly inappropriate to appear unannounced?”

“U-Um…! I know it's rude of me, but could I possibly come in? I'll be quick--there's something I'd like to tell you and Rook-senpai--and Epel-san too, if he's around. Then I'll be out of your feathers."

Vil looks at her long and hard.

Finally, a sigh.

"... Quickly, you said? Then make it quick. And you're going to catch a dreadful cold walking around like that. I'll call for a towel and hair dryer."

"Here you are, Roi du Poison!" a chipper voice pipes up, producing the items he had requested.

"Thank you, Rook," Vil replies nonchalantly, accepting them. The dorm leader ignores Raven's gaping mouth and hand-waves her inside. The huntsman moves to close the door after her. "He has excellent hearing," Vil explains, "and comes promptly when summoned. Spend enough time with him and you'll get used to it."

("Bonjour, mon petit oiseau!" he whispers.)

They herd Raven to a stool ("Not on the couches! You'll get them all wet!") and proceed to dry her off, as promised. Ruffling fabric and the low hum of the dryer fill the lounge, shutting off only when Vil is satisfied. Throughout the entire process, Rook hovers at a distance as if he is a theatre patron watching a show.

Finished, Vil passes her a mirror, granting her a few merciful moments to admire how he has blown out her curls. She oohs and aahs at her reflection.

"... Now then, what is it that you wanted to say?"

Raven almost drops the mirror. She's thankful that she's able to get a strong grip on its handle. Seven years of bad luck, avoided.

"Oh! Er... I-I wanted say thank you."

Vil lifts a brow.

"For everything you've done for me," Raven continues anxiously. "I don't think I've ever had to chance to properly express my gratitude.

"So thank you. Vil-senpai, for giving me pointers on how to be more ladylike. Rook-senpai, for your support when I was going through a hard time. I'm... so grateful that I can be here with everyone."

"Oh la la!" Rook throws both of his hands up. His expression is one of alarm, but not displeasure. "Mon petit oiseau, I had sensed that something was different about you from the moment you strode in. Could it be...?"

"E-Eh?!"

Raven is rugged off the stool, swept up into his arms. Rook pulls her into a twirl, letting her feathers fly. She dizzies, her feet tangling--but he steadies her, catching her hands.

"It is!" Rook declares giddily. "You've been freed--found yourself at last. I know it."

"You're going to make her motion sick," Vil warns pointedly.

The huntsman gives a musical laugh. He doesn't release his grip on her. Instead, he lowers himself, peeking into Raven's confused amber eyes.

"You still have someone else to speak with, non?" Rook says it like a suggestion. A secret, shared between the two of them. "Go to him. Let him know how you feel."

"... Yes, I'll do just that." She squeezes his fingers. "Thank you again for everything, senpai."

"Fufufu. Please, don't mention it." He pulls back. "I wish you nothing but the best."

Vil is silent as he watches Raven drift for the exit. She pushes the door open, and sunshine spills inside. The sky is blue, and he hears faint birdsong.

The rain has stopped.

Raven doesn't look back as she closes the door behind her. Her vision is focused only on what lies ahead.

"... You're fine with letting her go like this?" Vil asks of Rook. "Surely a huntsman would fight tooth and nail to keep ensnared prey from fleeing the trap."

"You're mistaken, Roi du Poison." He raises an arm, as if performing to a stage. "There is joy to be found in witnessing the ones we love at their happiest. Raven-kun now knows where that happiness lies--and I am content with that."

Vil frowns. "You're truly an incomprehensible man."

[aimfor-theheart]

wolfwood office au but hes a new employee (and ex felon) and youre assigned to help the new hire

anon i love you this is so specific. have you been thinking about this for awhile or something.

office au

wolfwood x reader

cw: maybe like. potential workplace flirting. reader flusters easily and has glasses. reader referred to as "miss"

∘₊✧───────────────────✧₊∘

you adjust the glasses slipping down your nose, flicking through the paperwork on your desk. it's already a little rumpled somehow and you smooth it out carefully. your neat, french manicure gleams in the stark light from the window beside you. your cup of tea sits cooling beside your cup of adorably colored pens.

you read the filled in answers, written in messy scrawl, the ink bleeding across the page. there's a coffee stain in the corner. and—tobacco stains, maybe? a burnt orange dash of color near the bottom.

your eyes flit across the page.

you catch the checked box next to have you been convicted of a felony in the last five years? the little dash beside the yes stands out sharply for a moment.

carefully, you keep a neutral face and keep reading. there's no space to see what crime he may have committed and you certainly won't ask. it doesn't matter, anyways. he got the job, didn't he? and besides, before the felony, his resume is rather impressive. seems like he made some incredible deals—damn near a con man—

you shuffle through more of the papers. you'll have to file all of them.

a knock on the wall beside your desk.

you pick your head up to take in an unfamiliar man. tall and broad shouldered, all shaggy raven hair and olive brown skin. he's handsome in that roguish, wild way. he's in a suit, at least, sharp looking. his ears are pierced. some rings on the fingers that rapped against the wall to get your attention.

"i heard you're my new assistant."

your brows raise. he doesn't exactly look like what you imagined the new vice president of sales to look like, but here he is nonetheless. he's younger than you'd thought he'd be. but when he smiles, you could see how it might be smarmy enough for sales.

"nicholas?" you ask in response, rising from your desk to greet him with a handshake.

"nick's fine. i heard you could show me the ropes around here a little." and this time when he smiles, he really takes you in.

your hand is so small in his.

you don't know why but heat touches your face. you pull your hand away from his quickly and adjust your glasses again to look up at him. "alright, nick. it's—um, nice to meet you."

"nice to meet my next partner in crime, too."

you swallow. funny choice of words that—

"and—yes. i can do that—show you around, i mean. i'll help finish getting you onboarded."

he glances around at your desk area; the flourishing plants and the color-coded pens and cute mouse pad. everything is in its place. even the papers of his you'd been reading are laying neatly on your desk.

"you seem...organized." he says, shoving his hands in his pockets, wandering a little closer to your desk. "which is good—i'm no good at that shit."

you clear your throat, "that's what i'm here for." your eyes flick over him; the lopsided smile and the cursing and the faint smell of tobacco clinging to him. and a cologne—something muskier. amber. and tonka. it's not that he looks like an ex felon or doesn't—just that, he isn't exactly what you were expecting either way. "shall we?" you ask.

he inclines his head, gesturing for you to go first like some kind of faux-gentleman. "after you, miss."

you smile nervously and turn, "um—i guess i can start with the tour?"

"that the fastest way to get coffee around here?" he asks, trailing behind you, your massive shadow.

you peak over your shoulder at him, glasses slipping down your nose again, "um—you can just ask me too, if you want—the old vice president of sales asked all the time—"

"not gonna make you get my coffee. you'll be doing more important shit for me than that." he says casually, and his eyes lock with yours again.

you quickly duck away from his gaze, focusing ahead. you shove your glasses back up your nose.

"i like your glasses, by the way. cute frame. they fit you." he says easily.

heat smarts your face. you blink rapidly.

"uh—thank you, nicholas."

"nick's fine, miss."

"nick. right." you say, swallowing around the name, "thank you."

"i'm real excited to work with you—i think this is gonna be a great pairing."

and you don't turn around to see it, but you can practically imagine the smile in his voice. just on the wrong side of wolfish.

in another universe writing game!

[onioety]

Okay!!! I'm fucking around with searches on the thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com's computer. I'll keep this thing updated with everything I find!!

(Disclaimer: typing names several times can change the outcomes)

List below!!

-BILL: either jazz triangle YouTube video or a Wikipedia link to eye triangle dollar bill things.

-MCGUCKET: cottoned eye Joe video on YouTube.

-MABEL: stickers will get sticked in the lab until 'lab now fully mabelized' appears on the pc's screen.

-DIPPER: Note from Bill asking him to stare 13 hours at the sun to develope powers to see 'special sun ink'. If you keep clicking, more notes appear saying you're on the right path. Gradually, the notes will get black (you're blind)

-STAN: HERE ME OUT THIS ONE IS MARVELOUS. The first searches will lead you to eBay and different random objects related to Stan (8 ball, rings, compression vest, hat, bow...). If you keep going you'll be able to see this (I love Stanley he's my baby):

Here you can take a look at a TON of random Stan-related things. Special mention to one of Stan's fear being having very small fingertips. I'll never be over it.

-DIVORCE/BREAKUP: THE FUCKING O'SADLEYS SIGN. I'M.

-BOYFRIEND: the romance book.

No because maybe there's more to this... 'there's three sides to every story'. Yes, triangle, love triangle, it's a very good pun. But we had Ford's POV in Diaries 3 and Bill's in the book of Bill. Thinking thoughts.

-GIDEON: sweat resistant bolo ties search on Google.

-TRIANGLE: ')' and 'tri harder'

-ALEX: flannel search on google

-PORTAL: 'portal.exe has been deleted. I bet you could build one'

-GRAVITY FALLS: 'never heard of it'

-FORD/SIXER: 18th y.o Ford's hand radiography. Weird something written I cannot really tell?? H8T0? HBT0? HBTO? H8TO?

-WENDY: 👌

-SOOS: some notes written down by him. Claims that when looking at the book everything glitches and he just sees 'HE'S UNCORRUPTABLE'.

-PIÑATA: video of a girl punching a Bill-shaped piñata.

-ABUELITA: vacuum cleaner commercial spot on YouTube.

-Any insult: soap image, angry message. They do not approve us.

-LIES: okay I find this specially important because the book is very introspective and gives out a lot of info about Bill but we all know he's an unreliable narrator. He rants about post-truth, scientism and superstition (very cool and interesting philosophical topics if I may say). But it's specially interesting when it comes to understanding Bill and his mindset. Lie until what you want becomes true, which can't. Lie until you can't remember what's a lie and what isn't. Reality is doomed, if you can't physically escape, do so in your mind. Lie until you aren't lying anymore. Reality is a compendium, and ultimate construct, a truth of lies, a possibility among endless. Lies are truths

-GOD: video of an axolot swimming with a Bill figurine made out of rock.

-HEY NERD: advertisement

-EVEN HIS LIES ARE LIES:

SORRY: Old picture of Fiddleford and Stanford back in college :(

ONE EYED KING: fucking morse code. Took me some minutes to catch it: -./.-/../-/.../..-/.-/..-.

Resulting in: NAITSUAF. If you enter this word as a new code, you'll see a page with a contract and terms of service to sell your soul. It has a code that translates to: 'you're now twenty one grams lighter'.

[atlantis-archive]

Vinny Has a Blast!

Written and lettered by: Michael Stewart Pencils by: Steven Butler Inks by: Jim Amash Colors: John Green Published in: Disney Adventures Collector’s Issue! Atlantis: The Lost Empire Volume 11, Number 6 (pg.80-83). Publisher: Buena Vista Magazines Inc. Publication date: circa July 2001.

Text:

Page 1: Rourke: [To reach Atlantis, we must get the Ulysses through that narrow opening in the rocks up ahead.] [Vinny, you'll have to blast a hole big enough for the ship to pass through.] [Moliere will handle any digging for you.] Vinny: [You want your standard round opening, or maybe something interesting--] [--a diamond... or a figure eight? Perhaps an "A" for Atlantis?] [I've got enough nitro to get creative here...] narrator: [Red alert! The crew of the submarine Ulysses faces the first major obstacle in their quest to find the lost continent of Atlantis!] Mole: [-:Sigh:- I have just escaped the bath and now we go into the ocean?]

Page 2, Panel 1: Rourke: [You're sure there's no other way, Milo?] Panel 2: Milo: [The Shepherd's Journal says we have to go through, Commander Rourke.] Panel 3: Milo: [It also says the seas around Atlantis contain unknown dangers...] Panel 4: narrator: [Minutes later, Vinny and Moliere eagerly strike out into the unknown...] Vinny: [We'll bury two charges--one on each side of the opening.] [Like I always say, two explosions are better than one!] Mole: [I cannot wait to sink my pickax into the unknown delights of this exotic undersea rock!] Panel 5: Vinny: [Remember, the depth of the holes must be very precise!] Mole: [Please! Am I not the famous Moliere?] Panel 6: Vinny: [This explosion will be a true work of art!] Panel 7: Vinny: [Did Michelangelo ever sculpt rock on such a massive scale? No!] Mole: [Something's moving over there...]

Page 3, Panel 1: Mole: [Fish! Big fish!] [Scary fish!] [Vinny!] Panel 2: sfx: THWACK! Panel 3: Vinny: [You got that second hole ready?] Mole: [Sacre bleu!] Panel 4: Mole: [Please--it looks hungry!] Vinny: [Let you're little fishy nibble on this flare.] Panel 5: sfx: FLASH! Panel 6: Mole: [We go now!] Vinny: [If that hole isn't just right, this explosion could be very... messy!] Panel 7: Mole: [Uh... sure. The hole is fine. Let's go!]

Page 4, Panel 1: Vinny: [OK, time for the first big boom! Mole: [Are we fare enough away?] Panel 2: Vinny: [The view is much better up close!] [On the count of three!] [One... ah skip it--boom.] sfx: KA-BOOOOM! Panel 3: Vinny: [Let me guess--you didn't finish digging the hole...] Mole: [Not exactly, no.] Panel 4: Vinny: [My foot is trapped! And your helmet is cracked! Get help from the Ulysses!] Mole: [Yes! I'll go back to the ship!] Panel 5: Vinny: [Might as well finish the job...] sfx: BA-BOOOOM! Vinny: [Ahh! Is there anything more beautiful than a very large explosion?] [No, I think not!] Panel 6: Vinny: [Hey! Look who's back!] [That explains my sudden craving for fish sticks!] narrator: [Turn to page 84 for the exciting conclusion!]

Notes:

This post is passed the weekly deadline! That's 1 demerit for me. I'll need to figure out something to do with those to make them effective. This still counts as last week's post so I owe another this week, which I have decided will be the last comic in the Disney Adventures issue.

The story here takes place prior to the battle against the leviathan, seemingly before Milo's presentation on the bridge in the film.

We see that the Ulysses, unsurprisingly, carries diving equipment. However, these are ambient pressure diving suits, good for protection against tearing and cold but useless against the pressure at deeper levels. Humans can't really survive more than 60 meters (196.85 feet) below, which is why Atmospheric Diving Suits were invented! Imagine them in steampunk-esque, underwater robot suits instead!

The "scary fish" (the nayap according to Sweet's Fish Story!) is the first fantastical creature encountered by the expedition. It doesn't seem particularly interesting, though. A weird shark with a feathery tail and long snout?

Vinny's dialogue really shows how much Don Novello brought to the performance. Without his adlibbing and weird energy the character just doesn't hit the same.

[cloudwhisper23]

Hello there! So, I'm still settling into my first year of college (oh boy) and I've determined that the time allotted in my schedule is too much for a normal part-time job. That being said, I do have spare time, it's just not in good places for me to get my homework done as well. I want to do well with college, but I also still need an income. So!

I am going to try doing commissions. They'll be written, of course. Fanfiction or fiction, whichever you prefer, but I'll get into more detail below the cut.

What can I request?

I'm a member of a few fandoms here on tumblr, and I've actually written fanfiction for Five Nights at Freddy's (of all options, I have the most experience with this one), Bendy and the Ink Machine, and Hollow Knight. I'd be willing to also try writing for Ace Attorney, Six of Crows, Stardew Valley, and Supernatural, since those are some of the fandoms I'm most familiar with.

I am experienced in writing plenty of regular fiction as well, so don't be shy about asking me to write stuff about OCs or just a general idea you had and wanted to see written out on the page. Just make sure you give me a prompt for what you'd like to see!

I can also do poetry. I don't write it as often (which is why you rarely see it on my blog), but I tend to write in free-verse, which is a fancy word for saying I don't follow poetry rules. I can follow poetry rules, but it'll probably take me longer to complete a poem.

I won't do 18+ content though. Sorry, but if I'm going to test that boundary, it'll be in my own time. Commissions are for the things I'm comfortable writing, and 18+ isn't that. So I will refuse to do any of that.

What about romance? Is that something you're comfortable writing?

I don't have full confidence in my ability to deliver good romantic stories right now. I can do a really slow burn, and I'm decent at romantic tension, but that tends to be more open for readers interpretation. You can request romance, but if it's not up to your standards, I apologize in advance.

What is your writing like?

I feel like this one kind of explains itself, but in case it doesn't, I have pieces of my writing scattered around two blogs and an Ao3 account. The blogs are @cloudwhisper23 and @cloudthenightguard, and the Ao3 account is under CloudWhisper23 as well. On both blogs, my writing tag is #cloud writes, which hopefully will make it easier for you to search for samples of my writing on both.

What about pricing? And expected time of delivery?

I write short stories on a 1,000+ basis, with the minimum being $10 USD, but I won't do more than 10,000, and I'd appreciate if you tipped me more than that (But you don't have to. I get that other people may not have much extra to give)

Poetry is a bit different though, and I'd be more willing to do it at $5 USD, but I'd prefer to write in free verse.

Payment will be done through PayPal, or Ko-Fi but depending on requests, I may be willing to consider other alternatives.

Naturally, the timing of delivery will depend on several factors. Obviously the shorter works are ones I can get to people in shorter periods of time, but depending on what I'm writing, it'll be a bit of experimentation on my part for certain things. I cannot promise an estimate without knowing what I'm meant to be writing. Certain things require further research, or knowledge about characters that I simply don't possess. If it's an OC issue, I'll ask directly, but as for more fandom based characters, I will likely do my own research.

If you have any questions I haven't covered, feel free to DM me or send an anonymous ask!

I am human, and I can't promise that I will think of every question you'll possibly ask. So please, if there's something you're not sure of, let me know so I can try to work through it with you. If you're not sure what you want, but you do know that you want something, we can brainstorm together to figure out what works best for you!

[crmsnmth]

September Sky Chapter One Part 2

"It will. If you don't stop writing that is. You have a style all your own. It's like you're just telling a story around a fire one night. And you're story is good. I mean, really good. It's well written. It's introspective. Makes you question some things. And it's original. It's a new idea."

"Is that why there's red ink all over it?" I said, with a half-smirk. I was making fun of her needless habit of editing every single piece of creative fiction that passed before her. I wasn't sure, but if she stuck with her habits, she could go on to being one of the best editors out there. And I didn't know shit about the actual world of writing, but I knew editors were important.

"Shush. It's just grammatical and spelling errors." She crossed her arms in front of her, and sat forward, resting them on her desk. "Make me a promise?"

I looked at her, this time with my own confusion. "What?"

"Don't stop. And if you ever get anywhere with this, put me in your thank dedication." She cracked a smile at me. Her teeth were extremely white, contrasting against her darker complexion. I wondered for a second how often she bleached her teeth.

"I won't. I don't think I could, even if I wanted to." I meant that. From the moment I was able to write, it never stopped. It's why I did so poorly in high school. I would spend my classes writing shitty high school emo poetry. Every night before bed, I would journal. There were always snippets of story ideas all over my notebooks, and pretty much anything else I could write on. "And if I ever a thank you page, you'll be on the list. You don't need to ask for that. I really would thank you."

"For what?" She asked with curiosity.

"I don't know. Kind words? Support. You're one of the few who didn't make me completely hate this place." I shrugged. That's all I had. Hopefully, it was enough. My writing never came through in how I spoke. I always tripped and stumbled over my words. Or said inappropriate things. Or just totally missed out on normal social cues.

"I'll take it. Good luck, Chris. Keep in touch, please." she said. I hated hearing the disappointment in her voice, but I was doing this for me. I hated this place. I hated the environment. I hated the crowds. The people. All it did was set off my anxiety issues, and I'm beyond fucking tired of having panic attacks hidden in some bathroom, hoping no one comes in to hear me cry and sob until I can catch my breath and breathe again.

"Yeah, you too," I said, standing up and grabbing my backpack. I looked up and saw the time. "Shit, I gotta go. I'm going to miss the bus." I took off, hurriedly out into the hallway, where a crowd of other students was pushing through. It was just past noon. Lunch hour. Fuck. The fastest way to the bus stop was through the cafeteria.

And the cafeteria was packed with a massive crowd of hungry kids grabbing something quick before heading off to the next hour or so of boredom and sleeping in class. Luckily, I'm very small. I'm only 5'7" and I weight 117 lbs, if I'm soaking wet. I could slip through crowds pretty easily. And that's what I intended to do here.

I didn't really know anybody at the UW, other than my professor's and their aides. But, I was well known. Mainly because of how I looked, and the fact that almost ninety percent of anything that came out of my mouth was pure unfiltered sarcasm. It was a coping skill, keeping people from breaking through my shell.

And has I pushed through the crowd, I swear I heard someone shout my name behind me. I turned my head for one second. One simple second, and that's all it took for me to collide into someone, knocking their books and an apple to the floor. I guess I was missing the book. I never did find out who was calling for me, or if anyone actually was.

"Oh shit, fuck. I'm sorry," I said, dropping to the ground to pick up the books and the now bruised and tainted apple. It was when I grabbed the apple, that I saw the ratty and old combat boots, leading to fishnet covered legs and a flowing gray skirt, that ended right on the knee. A black t-shirt, with the lips from Rocky Horror Picture show screen-printed on, covered up part of a massive sleeve tattoo of roses, vines and skulls on her right arm. Her nails were painted a bright red.

[eliotqueliot]

My Queliot art: Five of my favorites

Hey, everyone. Thank you so much for loving my art and cheering me on. I got approved to create a page for an upcoming anthology; I can't tell you about it yet for contractual reasons, but keep an eye out because I can't wait to share. In the meantime--I miss making Queliot art and fic so much, even though it's only been a couple of weeks. So please excuse me for providing a kind of "greatest hits" of recent art. These are some of the pieces in my portfolio that got me the slot! When you have time, please check out the AO3 pages for the art--these are each connected to a fic--and there's more art on those pages than I'm showing here. In particular--

A huge, huge shout-out to @magicians4time for the brilliant idea and fic I love so much, We Could Build a Castle,

and for the ongoing inspiration and encouragement! Your love for my work led DIRECTLY to some of my favorite art pieces I've ever made. Making art for your fic honestly is what really got me going with art again and took my art to a whole higher level (seriously, guys, if you look at my first Queliot fic-and-art from Dec. 2022, you'll see how far I've come!)--and I honestly cannot thank you enough for everything.

So, the first two pieces are from our beautiful castle, which @magicians4time and I are really excited to get back to as soon as we can! Honestly--I can't thank you enough for inspiring me--working with you has always been a dream come true--such a privilege.

We Could Build a Castle, fic by @magicians4time

These next two are from my solo fic-and-art WIP:

The First Duty of All Magicians Is to Save Their Friends

And the final sample of today is a solo fic-and-art of mine that's actually finished and very short (and you can also see the original pen-and-ink version)

Stealing a Book Titled Quentin Coldwater

Don't worry--as soon as I can, I'll be back with more Queliot art! (And fic--but that might take longer. In the meantime, please, please, please if you can, go & read some of the 200k I've written already--I'm kinda heartbroken that I have to take this break, even though it's for such good reasons!)

[eightwholebreads]

How to make these big print outs at home

Edit: Another thing from my drafts. I think I was going to add images to this but yeah I can't be bothered. Originally written in January 2023. Posted with minor edits

Some of you are no doubt aware of my life sized Greg and Alex print outs. (Even fewer of you will be aware of my watto printout... anyway)

They're relatively simple to make yourself so here are the instructions! I don't know if this is the best way to do things but its what I do. If anything's unclear just ask and I'll clarify.

Step 1: Selecting your image

If you're printing out an image huge, you're going to need a large, high quality image. You're also going to want an image on a relatively plain background to make the next step easier

Step 2: Removing the background

In order to not waste printer ink, you're going to want to do this

Step 3: Enlarging the image

Using ai image upscalers you can make an image that's reasonable sized into one that's huge. You can throw the image through the upscaler multiple times. It might get weird in places because these things aren't perfect but they take some of the graininess out of simply resizing the image.

You're going to want your image to be at least your desired height at the highest dpi your printer prints at (if you're going to all this effort you might as well make it high quality). For my printer this is 300dpi.

Once you have the image at at least the height you need open it up in an image editing program. Set the measurement mode to cm (or inches if you're like that) and then shrink the image so it's exactly the height you want. Then save.

Step 4: Preparing the image for printing

This is legit the easiest way I've found of doing this. I don't know if I'm just being an idiot and missing a button somewhere that just prints the image at the exact correct size over multiple pages but I can't find it (my Greg is actually about 10% smaller than he should be because I hadn't worked this out yet...)

Open up LibreOffice calc or microsoft excel (I can't find a way to do this in google sheets). Drag the image over to the spreadsheet. Check the size is still correct via the image options. The height should be what you need it to be still. Print to pdf.

Optional (but recommended to save paper). Open the pdf in your image editing program. Make sure the dpi is set correctly when you open it. Move the small parts all on to one layer. Make sure there's no overlap. Delete any blank pages/layers. Save this image to a pdf saving it using the layers as page option.

Step 5: Print!

I can't help you with your printer. In theory this is the easiest step.

Step 6: Cut out the pieces

I use a scalpel and cutting mat to cut out the pieces although you can use scissors. Use a ruler for the straight, internal edges! You want to be as precise as possible with these. When you get to the edge of an external edge leave a little triangle of excess on the corner edges. Having these will make the final construction neater later

Step 8: Stick them together

You'll want some floor space for this last bit. Lay out all your pieces so you know where each of them go (like a giant jigsaw). Stick some sellotape to the back edge of one piece. Take its adjacent piece and bring it in perpendicular to the tape. You're trying to line up the edge perfectly. Bring the piece you're holding down towards the tape. If you do it right you should push into the narrow edge of the piece with the tape on and so leave either no or a very hard to see seam. Do this with all the pieces.

Turn your guy over and add more tape to corners and near edges to stop the pages peeling up.

When they're all stuck together cut off the little extra triangle edges so the edge of the image is smooth and any excess tape.

And that's it! Stick your guy wherever you want!

[humanoidalien27]

Content warning: talking about death, regret and a nice dash of heart wrenching pain. (This is one of the darker stories I've written. So, I apologize for all the trigger warnings.)

....

Chapter 12

Determination

    Starring out the window, Sebastian barely noticed Felix talking to Fig. The faces of his friends haunted his mind as your voice echoed the last thing you said to him.

"I absolutely hate you Sebastian."

His chest twisted as his fists tightened again.

"Sebastian?" Felix asked, resting a hand on his shoulder, only to be smacked off. "I know it hurts-"

"Hurts?" He asked sharply, now glaring at Felix, eyes so close to yours it only added to it. "If I had blocked that spell instead of dodging it, they'd be alive. Their deaths are my fault."

Felix watched his face crumble as he glanced at Fig, who looked helplessly at his former student.

"She died hating me!"

Felix sighed softly, knowing what he was about to say wasn't going to help, but it needed to be said. "It seems the killing curse doesn't kill as painlessly as you thought, does it?"

Sebastian practically fell to the table, his fingers digging into his scalp.

"That is the price of using dark magic. You get hurt, the people you care about get hurt. She and Ominis cared for you-"

"They hated me."

Felix gave a slight smile. "You don't put your back to someone you can't trust. Their backs were to you."

Felix startled as Sebastian began to sob. "I didn't know. I didn't know they were there."

Moving close, he carefully pulled the teenager into an awkward side hug, his own emotions spilling out onto his cheeks.

    That night, Sebastian snapped his wand in half. A silent way of telling himself never to touch or defend those spells ever again.

He didn't want to be tied to it or reminded of it.

Sitting still for a moment before his eyes fell onto your bag, the place he stowed yours and Ominis's wands.

He pulled it closer and reached inside, finding more than he bargained for.

He, instead of a wand, pulled out a box that was wrapped in green paper with a silver bow.

Curious, he turned it over, seeing his name written on it was his birthday.

Felix's words about you carrying about him filtered through as he opened it.

Inside was a book filled with painted artwork on enchanted canvases. The first two had you, Anne and Ominis, though it didn't speak. The enchantment was just to make them move.

The next page had Poppy and Natsai. As he continued, it slowly progressed into the teachers and finally random ones of her and Ominis. The last page had him, back in the fifth year.

He glared at the bright smile on his painted self's face.

He shut the book, before reaching in again, finding another present. This time he assumed it was a Christmas present. It was a book of ancient curses, with a page bookmarked, so he opened it, seeing a note slipped inside saying it was Anne's curse cure.

You had found it a few weeks after she had died and forgot about the note when you put it in the box.

The next thing to come out of the bag was a letter written to him.

      -I know you'll never see these, but I can't help myself. Being your friend hasn't been easy and loving you, even harder. I think I've just gotten used you not being around, which seems worse in a way. Ominis is helping, though I sense he knows I'm lying half the time and is too polite to point it out. The truth is that it's been months and I can't stop these feelings for you. A part of me wants to wish them away, but they're all I have left of you. The only thing that I feel tethers me to you. I wish I could go back to that day we dueled and change the way everything went afterwards. I wonder if you felt the same or if this is just a silly dream of mine. I'll never be able to tell you to your face, not after everything, but I love you Sebastian. I never stopped and I miss you deeply.-

   He quickly wiped the droplets that splashed down, away before it smeared the ink as his eyes moved to the date seeing you wrote this a week before visiting Azkaban.

Breaking down, he had to stop digging and went to bed, or at least pretended to.

    Felix accio-ed the wands from the bag, but Fig's and Miriam's came with them.

"Who's are these?" Felix asked.

"She kept my wand?" Fig asked surprised.

Sebastian nodded and showed Miriam's. "Both of yours."

He stared at the wands, each belong to a wizard who died before their time.

Felix watched Sebastian grab your wand and stow it in place of his own.

"What happened to yours?"

"I broke it."

He nodded and moved to grab a box from behind the table. "Here. I'm giving these to you. Do with them what you will. I'm going on a very long trip." He placed it down and grabbed his bag. "I need to get my mind off things."

Before Sebastian could reply, Felix turned into his animagus form and flew out the open window.

Staring at the paper, which read about the Minister's downfall, Sebastian felt more alone than he ever did in his cell.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to nobody as he laid his head down on the table.

    By the time he woke up, it was dark out and the house was way too quiet. His eyes moved to the parcel, he pulled it close and carefully opened it seeing a necklace on a letter floating in the middle of the box.

He reached in and grabbed it, his fingers brushing against something soft.

He pinched the air, finding cloth and pulled it free from the box revealing an invisibility cloak.

He draped it over his lap and pulled the letter free from the necklace.

    -I know you regret many things that's happened and though I know I shouldn't, I'm giving you that chance to change it all. But remember that worse things can happen as well as it changing for good. Messing around with time is always dangerous. It's your choice.

Do take care of my cloak, it's been in my family for generations. The necklace is a time turner, I'm sure you've read all about them and know how to work them. The turner does not have the ministry restrictions on it, I won't get into why I have it, but do take care not to be seen by your past self unless in disguise.

If you decide to live this life the way it is, simply leave both in the box and it will apperate to me. Good luck Sebastian.-

Blinking, he took to time turner out and inspected it.

He had infact read about these items before, but he was doubting if he was even able to save people. All he's seemed to ever do, was get them killed.

"Living a life of regret isn't easy," Fig said, drawing his eyes. "When I lost Miriam, a part of me died with her. By the look on your face, it was the same with her."

Sebastian nodded slowly, though he missed Anne and Ominis just as much.

"I know that somewhere, they wouldn't want you to do this-"

A smile creeped up on his lips. "When was I ever able turned away by someone not wanting me to do something?"

"That was also your downfall," Fig added quickly.

"But it won't be my younger self's habit. Not if I managed to change certain things."

Picking up the cloak and the necklace, he headed towards the bedroom to grab a few things he may need as determination burned brightly in his eyes.

....

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[houjichaya]



13 + 71, yamaniku, i believe the rest of the details can fill themselves out???

ah, yes, thank you for requesting one of my favorite ships! tbh, it deserves way more traction in the fandom than it currently gets. 13 (detective AU) + 71 (twenty-four hours to live), ft. yamaniku (nikaidou yamato/@stellamancer) -- written in second-person pov because I wasn't sure how well legit yamaniku would be received by the niku in question. note: proper ship name is still up for debate, so yamaniku is being used as a placeholder for the time being! nikudou could be kind of cute, though. nikainuku? nikaiku? niniku? ninniku? the possibilities are endless... (if only yamato's name were written with different kanji. mountain meat would have been amazing!!!)

"Another love letter arrived for you." The envelope that's being offered to you is a soft pastel green, and nothing about it screams love letter, but your partner has taken to calling them that as of late. It's probably because the last letter you received playfully invited you to dinner, as if the sender wasn't a wanted criminal and you weren't the detective hot on his trail.  "Thanks," you say, taking the envelope without so much as a glance in his general direction. It's already been dusted for prints and checked for explosives, you suppose. If you die, it'll come out of Ishida's paycheck.  As usual, the envelope is addressed to my darling detective, written in crimson ink reminiscent of blood. Your brow furrows in irritation as you make your way over to your desk. In one fluid motion, you grab a letter opener and slice it open.  The contents read as follows: As fond as I've grown of our little game of cat and mouse, I must admit that I tire of your futile efforts to catch me. I thought I provided you with a wondrous opportunity in inviting you to dinner last night, so you can imagine my great sorrow when you failed to show up. I had to find someone else to keep me company and ease the pain of my broken heart.  (You almost crumple the letter up right then and there. Another victim will be found soon. Maybe you should have gone with your gut, after all.)  In the past few months, I feel as though we've come to and understanding of one another. It is my hope that you don't refuse me again, although our first meeting will inevitably be our last.  You have twenty-four hours to set your affairs in order, as I imagine you won't be able to do much else after. Remember: if you don't find me, then I'll find you.  Yours, Nikaidou Yamato Some love letter, you think, folding the page up and stuffing it back into the envelope so you can submit it to evidence later. It's more of a death threat than anything else, but you find that you don't mind all that much. Either way, you'll finally get to see him face to face, which means he's as good as caught.

As it turns out, Nikaidou Yamato looks nothing like the image that's been circulating the tabloids in increasing amounts over the past few months. In fact, he bears little to no resemblance to the photos in his file, which explains why no one (read: you) has been able to pin him down. And that's why you never saw him coming. The twenty-four hours came and went in the blink of an eye, and when you finally returned home to clear your head and maybe grab a bite to eat, he made good on his promise to find you instead. He ambushed you in your own kitchen, holding a knife to your throat to keep you in check. He wasted no time in shoving you down into one of the chairs in your dining room and tying you up. Which brings you to your current predicament. "See something you like?" His lips twitch at the corners as he leans back in his chair, eying you over the table that separates the two of you. You're seated directly across from him, hands bound behind the chair's back with what feels like rope. The knots won't budge. He's smart enough that he also secured your legs, which is something you hoped he'd overlook if you didn't put up too much of a fight. How unfortunate. You narrow your eyes but keep your lips pressed tightly pursed. To be honest, some part of you has noticed that he's incredibly handsome, which explains how he's been so adept at getting close to his victims, but you're not about to tell him any of that. "Come now," he says, his voice a lazy drawl. His eyes appear to be glinting with laughter as he watches you, but maybe it's just a trick of the light reflecting off his glasses. "You might as well say what you want now, or else you'll regret it later." You close your eyes for a short moment, open them again. Yamato is giving you an expectant look, and you quickly glance away, focusing instead on his hands. They're folded together in front of him, resting innocently on top of crisp white tablecloth, as though they've never been stained with the blood of innocents. "...Why are you doing this?" He makes a face. "Boring." "No, I mean"--you try your best to motion towards the tablecloth that you're only now realizing you've never seen before in your life--"why are you doing this?" There's silverware placed neatly in line with your shoulders, as one might expect from a fine-dining restaurant: forks on the left, knives and spoons on the right. It takes Yamato a few seconds to understand that you're not inquiring about his terrible life choices, and soon a smile blooms on his face, misleading in it's warmth and delight. "Ah!" He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, and you instinctively flinch backwards -- as much as you possibly can given your current state -- which elicits a chuckle from your captor. "I thought you'd be exhausted after running around all day chasing dead ends, so I made you dinner." "How romantic," you say dryly, not quite able to stop your lips from twitching in amusement. And it would be, if you weren't tied up and the man sitting across from you wasn't a wanted criminal. He grins lazily. "A woman like you deserves it." "It'd be nicer if you untied me," you say casually, and Yamato laughs. The look on his face now makes your heart drop. He's toying with you. He knows that you're not able to spring yourself from his trap. And regrettably, he's right. "Later," he says, eyes darkening, and your blood runs cold as you remember his promise. His threat. "I'll leave your body somewhere nice so your partner won't have to look too hard. But let onii-san have a little fun with you first, okay?"

--bad end

[viaetor]

How exactly the letter has managed to reach Aether and Paimon is nothing short of a miracle - a miracle of organisation and information tracking, that only a few people in this world should be able to boast about. Perhaps the neat and crisp handwriting on the letter explains it all; who better than Sumeru's scribe to be privy to the comings and goings of the country's most celebrated outlander?

"Dear Aether,

By the time this letter finds you, I shall have resigned from my position as Acting Grand Sage - thus finally granting me the time to pursue more personal interests such as resuming correspondence, and returning to my delayed reading. I'm afraid this job has not left me much time to make progress on the books you and I discussed the last time you were in Sumeru City, and cannot express enough my satisfaction at relinquishing those responsibilities onto others. “One of the penalties for refusing to participate in politics is that you end up being governed by your inferiors" - now that Lord Kusanali has secured a new council of sages, more competent than the last, I am content to withdraw from the world of politics. My work here is done.

I am, of course, not writing to you for the sole pleasure of bragging about my newfound freedom, but to draw your attention to a recent publication from the Haravatat Darshan on ancient Khaenri'ahn. I know your knowledge of the language far surpasses that of most of my colleagues, but I do think this particular paper introduces a new and interesting nuance to some concepts related to the stars that may prove fruitful in your own quest for your sister. If not, at least it should make for an interesting conversation when you next return. Do let me know when you'll next be in Sumeru City or Port Ormos; I'll make sure to join you for dinner.

-- Alhaitham."

ㅤㅤ @maquiscursedㅤㅤ/ㅤㅤUNPROMPTEDㅤㅤ/ㅤㅤalways accepting!

ㅤㅤas if to contrast the adroitly written letter of rich paper and impeccable envelope, the reply the traveller sent back appeared a bit underwhelming to short-sighted readers, especially with how late it came in the mail. al-haitham, however, was sure to see through the seemingly initial sour disorganisation. for starters, the casing to precious penned contents was nonexistent, the only thing tying up all those different-looking papers together were a few rough strings that were clearly meant for camping structures and not delicate scripting. it also had far too many pages for what seemed like a simple response. was it because of the scribe’s friend’s untrained calligraphy? hmm, curious. aether had undoubtedly written alfresco, just after settling for the night, but right before his last meal. this could be attested by candle wax droplets that decorated some of the crumpled pages alongside some stains of sunsettia fruits. it was one of his very scarce free hours throughout his harrowing routine. even so, the outlander had made sure to try his best to keep his handwriting as concise as possible, despite his quill’s faint ink and his clearly exaggerated vowels and estrangement to regular spaces. it read:

ㅤㅤ“i hope this letter finds you well, al-haitham.

ㅤㅤyou must be happy to finally have a breather; the akademiya can be intense. but i think the work that you did was phenomenal. lesser lord kusanali couldn’t have chosen a better sage. she speaks very highly of you. thank you for everything you’ve done, you aided me in your own way, too. 

ㅤㅤas you can see, i think i made some progress with my handwriting. it’s still a little stiff and hard to read, i know, but your tutoring helped me. i find languages without punctuation and spaces much easier to read and write. but turtle baby steps. anyway, hopefully later we can discuss more of the books we talked about. me and paimon just finished reading a tale called moonlit bamboo forest. well, more me than her, really. she kept falling asleep whenever i’d read a sentence or two. have you ever heard of it? it’s not a scientific piece, but i think you’d enjoy the narrative. regarding your recommendation, i’ll be sure to get my hands on that paper as soon as possible. if not, would you mind saving a copy? dinner’s on me.

ㅤㅤi visited some ruins last week. sorry for not writing back sooner. but i took some pictures from some inscriptions and devices we encountered. i thought maybe they could interest you and your optics research. they seem to be ancient windows that function according to elements, but i’m not too sure. i also included some notes on the region’s terrain and monsters, alongside a minimap. i’d love to hear what you think.

ㅤㅤwhen you receive this letter, i’ll already be on my way to sumeru. let’s meet.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ— a.”

[lazyboxart]

HOW I MAKE TRADITIONAL COMICS AND COLOR THEM DIGITALLY - PART 1 - HOW TO MAKE AN EMPTY COMIC PAGE

Things you'll need for this part

Ruler

Thin pen

Thick pen

Pencil

Eraser

Heavy book

Something small you can draw on, preferably small paper or a handheld whiteboard

Step one - write your comic page

I usually write comics like this, I work by myself so the comic script can be messy. I stay on six panels most of the time so I can reuse pages, but you should also change it up sometimes, especially on scenes where it needs it.

Step two - plan out panels

Use a small piece of paper or a whiteboard to plan out panels after you've written them. Do the most important panels biggest, and more chaotic panels for more chaotic scenes. You could also use a tablet or ipad and use ibis paint to plan out the panels.

Step three - sketch the different panels

Use a ruler to decide how wide you want the space in-between your panels to be. I usually go to 0 inches because there's some space between the start of the ruler and 0, but you can also do whatever fits the style of the comic.

Draw the lines with the ruler and a pencil, use a heavy book to weigh the paper down straight so it doesn't move. Make a box on your page, then start adding the gutter (space in-between panels) to separate the panels. Make sure you go outside the lines while you're sketching so you don't cover up the entire line with your ruler when you ink.

Step four - inking panels

Use a thin pen to ink the panels with the ruler. Be sure to not go to far off the line, or go too low down below the other lines. Erase all the pencil marks by holding the paper down and carefully erasing (so the paper doesn't bend)

It should look something like this

Step five - copying

Swipe away all eraser marks before you copy the page on your printer. You may still have some marks on your new copy, but you can edit those away in your art software. I always make a copy of the page to keep incase i need to use it for later. Use plain paper and 8'5 by 11 (if that's the type of paper you're using).

Extra step six - thick copy

This is an extra quick step incase you need a more hand drawn and thicker look to your page for now or later. Copy the page like before, but afterwards go over the lines with your thick pen (i use a brush pen) and make it as shaky as you'd think fits the style. It's a quick way to make another type of page and i try to do it with every page i make just incase i need it one day.

Step seven - put away original copies

I keep the original copies of my comic pages in a folder for later use. After a while you'll have a bunch of blank comic templates to use.

I'll post the next part once i finish and scan the finished traditional page.

Also I'm not a professional, this is just how i make traditional comics

[goldentemplariumcrow]

[Anonymously send feelings] My dearest, I am complete both with and without you. We are not two halves of the same whole, we are independent yet beautifully complimentary universes. And yet, I can no longer imagine life without your presence. My heart, my body, my soul, my history are all yours and I give them willingly and freely. I can't wait for the life we form together.

meme

There was something to be said about the very specific words that made Dio feel a wave of electricity cross his back and back to his brain. Independent, but complementary, independent in their own ways and yet so good to fit together, all touching words, but the most important of them, the ones that had his body shaking were those about his secret admirer's history and how they gave it to Dio, willingly.

How it was hard to have that be given to him with trust and out of one's own wishes. It all came to Dio by accident in most situations, forcefully when he truly needed some answer that wasn't being voiced to him. Willingly, he only got from his sibling. So this... this meant way more than he could express in words or actions.

My years are long. I'll live to see, tell and eternalize your story and our bonds. I'll be here even after time is gone. Always waiting for you if you'll have me beyond one single lifetime, always seeking your warmth and touch, your companionship in any form you're willing to give. May our years together be long and our joy infinite while it last in the time allocated for our existence together in this brief moment we call Life.

The calligraphy in the words written in fountain pen ink on the ivory paper was impeccable, pretty much like everything else Dio ever put his hands on to work, thick strokes down, thin strokes up, not a single drop of ink over the golden embossed parts of the page, crispy writing that showed training and precision gained over many years of practice. And yet, it was fitting to the blond, clean and measured in all ways, yet heavy and expressive in the choice of each word.

He waited for the ink to dry completely before folding the paper and sealing it with wax, then left it where he found his secret admirer's written words. Careful with his gestures even at the simple act of laying the folded paper exactly where he found the small note and placing a weighed object over its corner so the sheet wouldn't go flying by any wind current that could come into the room.

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Chapter 1: Best Writer

Narrated by Yueniang.

Narrator: The clock on the wall is ticking, steadily, dully. The hands move slowly, counting the seconds remaining before midnight.

Narrator: Smoke rises out of the exquisite incense burner on the desk by the window. The room smells like orchids.

Narrator: It's a silent, breezy night. I have the most popular Cloud Empire incense and my antique typewriter from Apple Federation for company. Everything is perfect.

Narrator: I focus on the task at hand. Following some clickety-clacking on the typewriter, a line soon appears on the page in black ink...

Narrator: In the Depths of the Clouds... Screenplay by Yueniang.

Narrator: Time passes by, second by second. The clock's two hands finally align as the midnight bell resounds.

Yueniang: Hm? It's already midnight. Oh, dear.

You: Yeah. You need to hurry with your writing.

Narrator: Oh, that's not the problem. My facial mask is. I completely forgot to remove it.

Narrator: I lean back in my chair and peel off my facial mask. I pat my cheeks softly, allowing my skin to absorb the remaining liquid, and gently massage my eyelids with my fingers, which look stunning with my bright red nails.

Yueniang: It's that time of the day again. This isn't good... not good at all.

Narrator: I pull the sheet of paper out of the typewriter and stare at the lonely line. With a sigh, I place the paper on the table and head to my bedroom.

You: So, you haven't written anything. Is that really alright?

Narrator: Can't expect me to come up with a masterpiece while stuck at home, you know. I'll be visiting the West Mountain soon. I'm sure I'll be inspired by then.

Narrator: Besides, I already put down my name on this piece of paper. Isn't that a good start? After all, I'm the best playwright in Miraland.

You: Aren't you slacking off?

Narrator: Slacking off? Look at these nails. They've been chipped from all this typing! Right now, what's important is to get my beauty sleep.

Narrator: I lie down on my bed with intricate redwood carvings and soon fall asleep under my hand-embroidered silk blanket.

Narrator: I'm reluctant to leave my bed when my alarm rings, but I have a busy schedule for the day and need to be in top condition.

Narrator: I start putting on my makeup under the morning sun. The powder I got from Floral Sea smells faintly like flowers and leaves my cheeks soft and pink.

Narrator: My beautiful reflection greets me from the mirror. While wearing my qipao, I look as lovely as a willow in the breeze, but...

Yueniang: Tch, the slit should've been a bit higher. It's going to be hard moving around.

Choose either "Why don't you just change the outfit?" or "What's your schedule today?"

If "outfit," ...

You: In that case, why don't you change into something else?

Narrator: This outfit is perfect. It would be a pity to change out of it already.

If "schedule," ...

You: So, what exactly is on your schedule today?

Narrator: No need to get so worked up. You'll know when the time comes.

--

Narrator: I gaze into the mirror and smile at my reflection.

Chapter 2

Chapter 3