#--all a bit of a heavy handed metaphor lol

[put-them-thangs-away]

while i figure that out, not sure if anyone has done it yet, but i want to do a little dive into the basics of the tarot cards used in this jack & joker episode, now that i actually have a moment and can do more than just the basic off the top of my head readings. i’ll be using the golden thread tarot deck mostly because i like how concise it is and also its more accessible to me right now underneath my sleeping dog than my shelf of decks in my room lmao. this is gonna be,,,, real long probably so all the details will be under the cut, if you wanna join me for my rambling:

fun little sidenote before i get started: when i went to begin discussing why i love the use of tarot and nang’s characterization specifically, my card of the day that i drew was the Queen of Swords which is like 100000% The Nang Card™️ lol [complexity, perceptive, clear mindedness etc.]

“a woman of immense complexity, sometimes considered cold-hearted, but also sharp of mind and wit, independent and possessing great powers of organization and analysis.” i won’t go down the rabbit hole of sword suits as a whole bc that’s not the point of this post and so far the show hasn’t gone into minor arcana, so i’m just gonna say HMMMMM very inch resting timing,,,,, anyways,,,

now, of course i have to start with joke’s card and its myriad of double meanings. in just about any piece of media, if you see The Fool card it should automatically be flagged as a red herring. it’s meant for you to look at it and take it at face value based on the words and image…. much like our four little idiots did when first shown their cards. like JOKE YOU GOT THE FOOL BECAUSE YOU’RE A DUMBASS LOL! and he’s the joker so of course he would also be the fool, yes? unfortunately for our little baby clown, the actual symbolism of the card is childlike innocence and naivety, often to their own detriment. it speaks of blank slates, new beginnings, and the start of a journey. “he does not know the dangers that can beset him during his travels, and thus he stumbles forward with complete optimism, never suspecting that he may be walking in a thin tight rope.” oof yikes. sound familiar? nang rly read that boy for filth huh,,,, aside from the obvious heavy handed post-prison clean slate, we’ve also got the metaphor connected to jack’s forgiveness and starting their relationship over. there’s a lot more to be said here as well about how naive joke can be when thinking he’s doing the right thing and that his choices are for the sake of someone else, without clearly seeing the consequences their may be for that person as a result of his actions. at the risk of Never Shutting Up About It, i will have to make myself move on.

i’ll get into tattoo’s card next because it’s really interesting to me that he was assigned The World, which I kind of would have thought would be a card assigned to jack instead. i see what they were going for in this episode with it, i think, but it felt a bit shallow in comparison, so there may be more in relation to this that we have yet to see. as The Fool is the first card (0) in the major arcana, The World is the final card (21). this card symbolizes an ending of a cycle of life, specifically before the beginning of a new cycle of life. it’s an indicator of major and inescapable change. throughout this episode, we see the shift in tattoo’s heart and priorities being held up in comparison to their past heist through some pretty straightforward parallels, so from that angle, The World makes perfect sense. (especially since one reading of The World when in reverse is inertia & stagnation) tattoo wanting to run in and save joke when he thinks he’ll be caught in the heist is our window in to see The World changing. that being said i find it interesting that this card would be chosen for him since it sort of,,,, kickstarts the journey for The Fool and is generally somewhat,,,, final. so i’m just reeeaaaalllllyyyy hoping that this does not mean tattoo has to actually end his cycle in any way other than metaphorical for the other to continue. the man has grown on me, what can i say? 😭 we’re just gonna ignore all those warning bells in my head and choose to go with the “accomplishment and fulfillment from both inner and outer sources” reading. yup.

then we’ve got arun, whose card is The Moon, which is double fun because arun’s name means dawn/sunrise. there’s a lot of meaning that could be extrapolated here, but based on tattoo’s card seeming on surface level to be about the state of his heart and his involvement in this little found family, i’m going to guess that arun’s is the same. The Moon card symbolizes intuition, the unconscious, illusion, and deception. it can be read as a signal of something being not as it appears, a truth you cannot admit to yourself, instincts that we have buried in our unconscious, among other things. this card being chosen for arun actually actively makes me more nervous than tattoo getting The World lol. if we choose to read it at surface value, could just be that in this heist he had to follow intuition, and got himself turned around in the process (eagle statue etc), or just generally that he did not previously appear capable, but here he is helping this mission be pulled off. with the opening scene of arun crying about missing his dad and that,,,, not really getting resolved actually,,,,,, that makes me wonder about some alternate reading options, but like,,,,,, i don’t want to. so. Simply going to close my eyes on that one! no thanks!

then of course there’s everyone favourite head empty good boy, hoy, who was assigned The Star card. out of all the card readings, this boy got the most straightforward one and i’m trying not to read too much into that since they were all assigned by nang and my brain hasn’t quite caught up to [handwaves] whatever she and hoy have got going on over there. this card is symbolic of faith, optimism, and hope. so….. yeah hoy in a nutshell. not a whole lot more to add in there.

skipping The Heirophant card and The Tower card to come back to later because i have Some Theories there and they may make more sense after i go back and rewatch a few things

ANYWAYS if you read to the end of this thank you and i’m sorry please feel free to yell at me about it

[mysteryanimator]

Breaking down Castlevania Nocturne Season 01 - Episode 06 "Gulity Men to be Judged" Olrox and Mizrak scenes (almost) shot by shot!

With episode 08's breakdown (which you can read here), I'm deciding to tackle episode 06! I'm glad people enjoyed my last breakdown as much as I did writing it! While I will try to be as in-depth as the last, I will try to keep it concise because there is a lot I want to cover with a 30-image limit AND I am not just covering the "I'm not in love with you" scene. I will be covering their other scenes in this episode because I cannot understate how extremely important specific shots are.

To preface this again, this is not the end-all-be-all for these scenes. This is just me making observations based on my media analysis and production studies and a deep passion for visual storytelling/storyboarding. I also consider myself an amateur, so please take what you will from this. My terminology may flip flop, and I will be super casual and informal in this analysis. However, I hope I still get my points across well!

Scenes will not just be "the curtain is blue because it is." Heavy moments with character interaction are important. They have very little time to go over this scene, they have a budget, they have a deadline, so every choice matters and it needs to push out a very specific message.

What is this? A close-up to start off this new scene?

I've talked before about how establishing shots are used to establish a new scene, which often than not is a big expansive shot of the area and of the characters/plot we're following. This still does that. In fact, this shot alone is giving us massive clues to what type of story we're getting. We're getting a much more closed-off private conversation that we shouldn't be privy to. We're getting a view of Macheoul from Olrox's inn, as if we're pulling away from the bustle of life just for a moment.

I'm going to be talking a lot about windows so let me set up the foundations to start us off. Symbolically, windows are important to get a deeper view into a person. Freedom, transparency in conversation, openness, and connection.

We're also getting a close-up of Mizrak and his eyes are cut off. Eyes are another symbolic way to showcase connection and openness but we're not seeing that. Intentionally. Contrasting things are happening. This is already alerting us that this is going to be a tense private scene where things are being bared out for us but things are still going to be closed off from being shared. Also a-ha that curtain being pulled off to the side, which previously it wasn't in episode 04. It is as if we're unveiling a bit more about these characters.

Now we get this long shot.

Hey, so fun fact, you know in the fan-animatic (which you can watch here I'm sorry for the self-plug lol, I was also writing this analysis when making that animatic), I had put in an absurd amount of divider/window themes it might've gotten really over the top (whoops). I was directly referencing those themes from this. Naturally, this inn room references 1750s architecture and how there is a lot of vertical and horizontal detailing, however, I will be excessively pointing them out in this breakdown, so let me also lay the foundations of how important these vertical lines are as well.

In a scene, you can make characters feel at a distance, divided and such not only by using physical distance between other characters and objects but implying it by having vertical lines between them. It can create invisible walls and borders, separating a character from the situation at hand.

Even when characters are really close to each other, putting a vertical line between them in the background can make all the difference. Example, you can a close distance physically, but they cannot connect on a deeper level because there's a metaphorical border by putting a vertical line between them in the background.

These borders pop up a lot in previous episodes surrounding Mizrak and Olrox. The only time it doesn't is in episode 08, where they're out in the open and Olrox unveils something he has guarded up until that point.

The gap between them for most of this scene is HUGE. This has to be established from the get-go to help build upon later scenes where the gap gets closed.

Olrox and Mizrak are both presenting closed-off poses. Mizrak is fully faced away, arms crossed, while Olrox has his leg crossed over himself as he reads, also not in any form facing Mizrak.

By the way, I want to point out, Olrox has the book the Abott uses to turn people into night creatures, he's reading it in Mizrak's presence. Olrox STOLE the book and presumably, Mizrak has seen it being used. Which, this whole scene gets alluded to in episode 4 around the time Olrox passes Mizrak the head. They both were planning to conspire together or at the very least, feed each other information from their side. They're both reluctant players of their team, seeing flaws in the plans of their 'leaders' as much as they do in their enemies. So without overstepping a line, Olrox and Mizrak forge a temporary alliance, which that line gets blurred by simple human emotions.

Close upppp

Oh my god guys he said the episode title !!! I think this goes without saying that each episode title is a line said from a character in the show, and that it is super important

We're still noticing this MASSIVE GAP between Olrox and Mizrak. Also, check that divide there. The vertical divides that are happening are the wooden wall detailing, the candle, more notably the window, that vertical line the biggest/important divide in the scene once again.

Mizrak is shoved into the corner of the screen, he's not important right now so he doesn't take up too much of a focus and, therefore is smaller. Which also means when Olrox follows up with the line "he's threatening you", there's less weight to the line because it's not the main focus, it's a joke. There's no real threat.

Which establishes another thing- their dynamic. In episode 03, Mizrak scoffs and chuckles "and you expect me to believe you care, vampire?" By Olrox chuckling out "he's threatening you" it shows us that this dynamic is reciprocated. They both make jabs at each other, which they know won't actually hurt them. This also means they know how to jab at each other and make it hurt. Foreshadowinggggg~

From here on out, Olrox gets a lot of close up shots, that are framed to JUST focus up on his face (and hand but I will talk about that later).

I'm going to end up skipping a few of Olrox's close up shots in this analysis because I'll end up repeating the same thing, but this is important. We need to see Olrox emote up close because he doesn't ever emote in a very 'animated' lively way. Compare how Richter/Annette/The Abbott and so many other characters emote, their hair and body drag with their face. Olrox does that super rarely because he controls himself. So here, when we get a sliver of his emotions, we're getting up close and personal with him.

Mid....shot? I'm going to be less picky about my terminology because what's important here is the message being conveyed to the audience.

Mizrak turns away from the window (not fully yet) to face him. I need to point out- that Mizrak is super pushed off to the side of the screen, but then his reflection is crossing over that divide.

So as mentioned, having a vertical line is intended to make the characters feel separated from each other. Having a character cross the border can mean they want to overcome the metaphorical walls that are being set up. For better or for worse, it depends of on the character's motives and the context of each respective shot.

Mizrak is passing through a divide to get insight into Olrox. The curtain, again, pushed and tied off to the side. A window. A view into the past. Which I need to make clear, only Mizrak's reflection crosses over the boundary, as if to let his inner self connect to Olrox. While physically, Mizrak keeps himself guarded in case.

By the way, Olrox is fully in his own box. A frame inside a frame if you will. This helps draw attention to a character BUT also fully isolates them. Mizrak, by this question, is calling out Olrox. It's an isolated incident solely caused by Olrox.

Olrox indulges him in this conversation, but he's not fully facing him. He periodically does, but never fully.

I want to point out, that we have gotten Olrox from a front view, and now we're getting a 3/4 view. The next will be a side profile of him, as if he's turning inwards.

By the way, horizontal lines can act to lead someone in a direction. Because this is a western show made for a western audience, most of the audience will read left to right. So naturally our eyes will start left of the screen and move right (unless there's a major focus placed else where). This also just helps in general to move from shot to shot as it will imply for us where to look next, for the upcoming shot. This is also indicated by the massive empty space on the right of Olrox.

So this shot. His eyes are purposefully covered up and Mizrak turns around. Also it looks very similar to the third shot of this whole entire scene but with those key differences I mentioned. It's to alert to us the tone of the section has shifted.

Right now, Olrox is beginning to open up about a vulnerable personal matter from his past, but we can't see him emote—not yet anyway. He will choose and decide when to invite us into his emotions. We see Mizrak reacting to him though. Still giving him that space, but he's now engaged into Olrox's conversation.

Ok skipping a shot forward, but this close-up of him closing the book is basically telling us his mission to dig further into the Abbott's plans is unimportant now. As is closing off the current story he's reading to tell Mizrak a story of his past.

Also followed by the line "He was proud to be Mohcian, with roots deep in the land and forest" as he balls his hand into a fist against the book.

Hands are a superrrr common thing to use for symbolic purposes. It can represent connection. Humanity. Strength. Many more than this list, but a lot of human symbolism and motifs tie down a lot to what Olrox's previous lover is like- along with what Mizrak is like.

Pspspspsps in episode 3, Mizrak's introduction is with his hands, might be a stretch though because that intro is also cross-symbolic. Regardless I thought it was important to at least flag

CLOSE UP SIDE VIEW.

This cut from his hand to his face honestly makes it so gut-wrenching because you're suddenly slapped with Olrox emoting. Olrox's side profile here is acting here that he cant fully face his past, he can't fully face Mizrak as he talks about his past love. Sure he will here and there look over to him, but he can't hold it.

Also, this is what Mizrak would be seeing. While yes, a close up shot so its not entirely a one for one POV shot, we can argue Mizrak is only focused on Olrox's face. We as an audience are forced to be focused on Olrox's face and his face only because of this camera shot. Who is not to say Mizrak is also a part of the audience. Especially since the next shot is of Mizrak looking at Olrox.

Mid shottttt

So cutaway shots like this can help with things like avoiding to keep animating Olrox talking/moving because that will eat up your deadlines, budgets, etc (I think, I can be wrong). This also gives us insight into Mizrak because we haven't seen him for a few shots and oh my god, Mizrak is emoting too.

Right now, Mizrak is pulled away from the window divide. He's giving him the space to talk. Divides are not always bad, again it depends on the context of the shot and what you want to portray.

Also, we're seeing Macheoul behind him. People get to walk freely, poor and rich, sinners and saints and all the people who sit in the middle of those divides. Until Ezerbet's plan becomes finalized. There are a lot of colonization themes in this show and this show is about fighting for freedom. In order to show what freedom is like, the privilege to have it, we must acknowledge the opposite.

We're doing it through Annette AND Olrox.

Mid shot again, featuring Olrox instead.

Now this is supposed to be a mirrored version Mizrak's shot because now Olrox is turned towards Mizrak here as well.

Mizrak mirrors the traits of Olrox's previous lover.

As Olrox talks about his previous lover, we as an audience begin to notice how Olrox's previous lover matches the themes of the show. Revolution. Fight for freedom. This also foreshadows that Mizrak will end up fighting with the revolutionaries, Annette, Maria, Richter.

Skipping one of Olrox's close ups to where Mizrak begins to prod at Olrox's story. He is a little bit too invested in Olrox's life.

MIZRAK CROSSES OVER THE BOUNDARY. THAT DIVIDE. The window divide that keeps them in their separate boxes, he's crossing it over to call him out. He leans forward, then leans back as if to prod him and then go back into his safe zone. His box.

This close-up cut is in between Olrox and Mizrak talking. It's supposed to completely throw us off because its so sudden because we're not expecting this AT ALL. Sure we know Olrox would get riled by this comment, but it's so fast its a literal blur, and this shot doesn't last that long either.

He's also choosing to run. Which in a way, make its slightly more terrifying. He has the ability to float, and (please correct me if I'm wrong) would be cheaper/faster for him to just float really fast. So the choice for him to use his feet to get to Mizrak is a conscious choice.

Which I won't lie, it brings me to this line.

"She said to me, if you would love me as a man, then live as a man, Travel as a man." 

Said none other than Dracula himself in the first episode of the first Castlevania series. Olrox has a lot of times where he just chooses to walk/run, "travel as men do. Slowly." In turn, he's way more human still, despite his supernatural speed. There are also just a lot of parallels between Dracula and Olrox but I digress. It's pulling away from my analysis, but I thought it was a very important thing to note.

This is a low-angle shot. This shot is TENSE. Low angled shots are to make the character's seem powerful, larger then life because it puts the camera, in turn the audience, beneath what we're watching. At a lower place.

I'm here yet again to point out the divide. Mizrak even leans AWAY from the divide, as if to go back into his box. Olrox taunts the divide when he leans over. Not yet crossing it.

Until.

This close-up shot is so diabolical and it's so masterful.

Which, let's get this out of the way- It looks like they're about to kiss because they're that close to each other. We know they won't not, but it's the tension and the conversation we're having now just adds to it. We as an audience are now wondering what Olrox has planned for Mizrak because why is he that close? It is also not harmful bait either because we have them both naked in bed with each other prior. This is a set up for something bigger for season 2. (Or season 3... season 4... guys please stream Nocturne so we can get more seasons.)

Mizrak is pushed into his little box as Olrox stands over that divide and has an overwhelming huge visual weight over this scene. Mizrak, despite having very little of the screen, and being cornered by Olrox, is being very bold and questioning Olrox and his plans.

There are other ways to have someone feel like they have power over a scene besides a low-angle shot For instance, you can have them take an overwhelming amount of the screen so they feel big and powerful. To make someone appear weaker, you make them smaller in the scene (in other cases it'll make a character feel unimportant, like much earlier for that long shot, however in this case it is not). Right now, Olrox is trying to overwhelm Mizrak. This shot is suffocating, there is very little space between these two characters AND the visual breathing space for the eye to rest is almost nonexistent because Olrox takes up so much space. He's trying to read him and pull out his insecurities at this very moment. It won't work though. Olrox knows a lot about Mizrak. He has analyzed this man back and front, inside and out (I mean that metaphorically, but sure, you can take it literally too) but this is an impulse reaction, much like how Mizrak in episode 03 had an impulse reaction to pin Olrox to the wall.

Olrox feels threatened.

We don't know step by step what lead to the death of his lover, what drove Julia killing to him, but Olrox has opened up and Mizrak immediately begins prodding at his life the moment he mentions Julia killed his past love. How dare Mizrak tell him the person he would do anything for, that his death, was his fault. How dare Mizrak say Olrox would turn him. How dare Mizrak presume he loves him.

How dare Mizrak overstep the invisible boundary they've established.

Olrox moves off that divide back into his box.

BTW, side tangent:

I don't know if this was intentionally done but Mizrak's angle is really similar here, the key difference being his eyes and being shuffled into the corner more. Also, Olrox is there LMAO, but his eyes are cut off. It's like, in one truth being revealed, another one is being hidden. This is the very first shot of Mizrak we see in this section versus the very last time we see Mizrak in this section. Though this I'm a bit unsure about so I won't delve further than that.

Ok, tangent out of the way, the last shot for this scene!

This feels like a POV shot from Mizrak.

Front facing. Dead center. No fanfare at all. Blunt. Straight to the point. There's no hiding the truth. He is the subject of main focus.

Olrox is not lying, but it's not the full truth either, which is alluded to the fact the shot gives off the impression that it is symmetrical but it's not. Visually, the weight is so much heavier to the right, purely because of the bed, more of Olrox's face is exposed and the lights. The other side of Olrox is in the shadow and his hair covers up his eyes and parts of his body.

I'll split the shots into two without annotations just so you can see what I mean. Having this shot be split down the middle is wild because they feel soooo different from each other.

This one line is SO NUNANCED, there are so many layers to this (like an onion). So as we get a statement from Olrox saying he isn't in love with him. There is more then meets the eye, much like this shot. The front Olrox puts on.

Love is a very complex emotion, as is all emotions.

Regardless of love, the ending shot of this interaction is supposed to hit us like a brick wall. It forces us to face directly what Olrox is saying and we (including Mizrak) cannot turn away from what he has displayed. It feels heavy as Olrox's glowing eyes bore into us.

The scene concludes, and Lacrimosa, the song Edouard sings throughout the entire section, ends. I don't talk about music because I'm not well versed in that area, but I've gathered that Lacrimosa is a hymn sung in catholic masses. Lacrimosa literally means to weep. It's about mourning. I've seen it here and there about the Virgin Mary/Lady of Sorrows, things about mourning over sinners preparing to be judged for eternity.

We enter a scene, where Olrox mourns a lover, followed by Mizrak judging Olrox for what he did to preserve that love. His sin, his guilt.

Before we get into their later conversation, Mizrak and Olrox's reaction to the arrival of Ezerbet says a lot so I'll quickly touch on that.

Wow this mid shot honestly says a lot about the characters, how they pose and how they hold themselves, AND why they're even conspiring with each other in the first place. It's literally just for a second, its a still image except for the petals. You can recognise how, despite their very tense relationship with each other, they both share their disdain for Ezerbet's plan. No matter their differences. No matter the argument they had before.

Omg Myst what does this window divide mean? I hear no one asking, well, its almost like Mizrak is finally confronted with the vampire world, confronted that the vampire messiah is here, crossing over to look at what's happening. Crossing over to look into Olrox's world.

NOW, let's dive into their later encounter!

We're establishing a new scene, so this is our establishing shot. Looking onto the streets of Macheoul celebrating their Messiah, while we pull back into the private thoughts of Mizrak and Olrox once again. They're also back in their respective boxes, as you can see through the window's dividers.

We will never get to know what happened between the "I'm not in love with you" and this present moment, but they know to go back to their respective places, there's a much more pressing matter.

THIS SHOT IS SO IMPORTANT TO ME FOR A PARTICULAR CALL BACK.

I'm calling this out, it's a reference to episode 04.

When they're both behind their respective partners, they look at them so forlornly, while the other recounts the horrors of their lives LOOKING DOWN. They're both also put at the same heights. Like Olrox is really tall, but for the sake of having these scenes parallel, he's sitting.

Also, the way Mizrak's head turns to look at Olrox in episode 06 gives me unbelievable psyche damage because he's looking at him so gently and Olrox never gets to see and it makes me ache so bad. I love animation y'all.

A massive theme of these two looking at each other from behind with such worry and pain, like episode 08. It will probably appear again in later seasons because it happens A LOT with these characters, so this won't be the last time.

Here we have a high angle close up shot! God this expression he makes breaks me.

While not as extreme as other examples in episode 04 or episode 08, its still a high angle regardless. This high-angle shot looks DOWN onto Olrox and makes him appear more vulnerable, to feel powerless. Couple that fact he pushed further to the side of the screen, taking up the same amount of space on the screen as the literal bed. He talks gently, but talks about the horrific events he's witnessed in the past. He's sidestepping for now. The argument they had, that doesn't matter now.

What matters is that he's going to basically relive it again if nothing is done about Ezerbet. People will die for the sake of power, for the sake of amassing a paradise that only cultivates for their personal needs.

Olrox's eyes poke through without the 'glow'. It just pops against the dark interior of the room. This allows for us, the viewer to be drawn to his eyes. How distraught he feels.

Did you accidentally miss that shot of him where he looks forlorn at Olrox, BAM, you're getting a close-up of it. (Also another cutaway to into not animating Olrox talking.)

Also, the line that they cut to going "They said were they doing it for their god." GOES TO MIZRAK. They could've cut to any line but they chose this line. Mizrak has been convincing himself for this entire season he's doing this for God, horrors and sins committed. It was for God. There's a difference between the Abbott's and Mizrak's justifications to do these things, the Abbott's more plainly put out and explored in season 01, which I won't explore here because then this analysis will get too long (and I haven't fully analyzed him yet so I could be wrong) but the Abbott fears what he has built is being torn apart and will sacrifice others to keep his position.

Mizrak. He has nowhere else to go. The world has abandoned him and God has saved him from whatever trial and tribulation he's gone through. Therefore he will do the same for others, as God has done for him.

The people in charge of this scene knew it was important for us to see Mizrak's reaction here. We need to see a more gentle version of Mizrak because prior, Mizrak had just been a very closed-off yet fiery stubborn man, who would literally growl at the people who he saw as a threat and would continue to do so. Not that long ago we saw him tearing into Olrox, indirectly telling him it was his fault that his lover died.

Yet now.

He's listening. He's here. He understands.

Which by the way, Mizrak always constantly has this very specific eye highlights in his eye, which (in my personal opinion) makes me drawn to looking at his eyes first whenever his face is shown on screen. This a very good example of being drawn to his eyes first because, amidst the darkness of the interior, you're drawn to his eyes. Then you notice how softly, how concerned he looks. Which is the main premise of this very specific shot. Mizrak, despite being guarded, can be gentle.

This close up shot allows us to transition to the next scene, cutting off Olrox's eyes in the reflection as we look out into the streets of Macheoul. We're now being pulled away from their private conversation, as we will now not be allowed to hear whatever Olrox will undoubtedly tell Mizrak and Mizrak to Olrox.

We now close off episode 06's breakdown!

I am honestly such a sucker for the division lines in a composition to portray distance even when people are close to each other. I am also a massive sucker for call backs and parallels, I literally cannot get enough of them. Like a WHOLE mood will shift completely if you shift character and camera placements.

Hopefully, my own opinions on the matter didn't sway you too much, so I'm hoping this implores you to rewatch Castlevania Nocturne! Look out for those key details not only in Mizrak and Olrox, but in a lot of characters in the show as well! Each character within a shot is framed in very particular ways for a reason. So we must wonder why and question it. I also hope this gives you a deeper appreciation for the work that goes into shows like these!

Anyways, hope you enjoyed reading as I did writing this!

[beeapocalypse]

PERCHANCE . though the initial number of vascohse is pretty low (entirely comprised of the fructis dragons in the royal ve-corpsis court that were involved in the second Ascendance attempt) through the intermingling (+interbreeding ? still quite hesitant on if sphynxes should be infertile or not) with sphynxes near/entirely identical to them artificially bloat their numbers. mayhap as an attempt to establish the vascohse as an actual Species+a player on the board rather than a handful of hubris-drakes the oldblood political hound vascohse actively welcome sphynxes into chaus-prau on the condition that they integrate into their culture

[moonstruckme]

hey maee! your version of remus is such a comfort- i metaphorically kick my feet and squeal every time it’s hurt/comfort lol. i have a weird(?) request so no pressure at all but could you maybe write one for doctor remus with a reader who easily spirals over health? like a tiny bruise appears on her arm and she’s genuinely scared it’s cancer kind of freaked out. and he just sits her down and explains whatever is going on in very simple words, because it’s obviously a regular source of anxiety?

Thank you for your request sweetheart!

cw: health anxiety

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 462 words

Your worry grows like a tumor as you scroll on your phone. Pigment, size, sensitivity, it’s all there. You twist your neck around, peering at the spot on the back of your arm. 

“What is it?” Remus asks from the other side of the couch. 

You turn back around, giving him an apologetic look. “I have this weird spot on my arm. Can you look?” 

“No, you’ll have to make an appointment.” If you weren’t already skilled at detecting your boyfriend’s deadpan sort of teasing, his little smile would give him away. He sets down his book and beckons you closer. 

“Joking,” he confirms once you’re near enough, kissing you softly on the shoulder. “Where is it?” 

“Here.” You show him, turning your back to him and trying to point. 

Remus hums, taking your arm gently in his grasp. “When did this show up?” 

“I’m not sure. I didn’t notice it until just a minute ago.”

He presses down lightly. “Does it hurt?” 

“Mhm,” you hum anxiously. “I read that skin cancer spots can hurt like that, and it’s sort of discolored and big too. Do you think that’s what it is?” 

For a moment, Remus is quiet. “No, sweetheart,” he says, “I’m fairly sure it’s not cancerous.” 

Relief and skepticism war in your gut. “Really? Why?”

Your boyfriend’s other hand coasts up your opposite arm, moving across your shoulder to settle on your chest. Heavy and grounding. “I think it’s a bruise,” he says calmly. 

“A bruise?” You turn your head to look at it again. Your neck is starting to ache from the strain. 

“That’s what it looks like. You probably only got it yesterday. It’s relatively small, did you back into any corners or anything like that?”

“No, I don’t…” 

“Think back.” 

You do. And when it comes to you, you want to hide your face in your hands. “Oh.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I hit it on the corner of a drawer yesterday.” Your anxiety starts to abate, embarrassment taking its place. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” Remus lifts your arm a bit, slouching to touch his lips to the spot. “You only jumped to conclusions a bit. Are you still worried about it?” 

“No.” You scoot backwards until you’re propped against his chest. “Not now that I remember where it came from.” 

He hums, rubbing his hand over your clavicle soothingly. “I know you get anxious, honey. You’ve been doing better at managing it lately, though. I’m proud of you.” He presses a kiss to the back of your head. “Do you want a distraction for a little while?” 

You consider it, settling in against him. “Tell me what your book is about?” 

“Oh, that’s an hour-long distraction at the least,” he jokes. “How much do you know about Appalachia?” 

[romanarose]

Yes, Uncle Tommy?

DBF!Joel Miller x fem!reader

DBF!Tommy Miller x fem!reader

Join my taglist : Masterlist

Summary: Something something, Santa's not the only one coming?

or

Your dads friend's kid brother, Tommy, fucks you while Joel watches... but Joel cant keep his hands to himself

Warnings and Content: Big, girthy age gap, degrading, rough sex, cucking Joel, objectification (calling her a toy, a sex doll etc). Tommy is playfully teasing you but it's in jest. Jerking off, cream pie and cum in face, make up smearing, ass eating, praise, "daddy" joel, "uncle tommy" threesome between brothers but they are far away from each other, but watching. ball sucking, mentions of oral, m and f receiving, slapping, pinning down, nipple play, spitting. EXPLICITE AND LOVING CONSENT! This was a lot so if i missed anything LMK!!!!!

Immersability: Reader is fem, has hair, reader is much younger than Joel and Tommy. Mentions of readers stomach jiggling but i think most (not all i'll conceed!) do when folded and pounded lol. Mentions of a "bruising grip" as a metaphor but not mentions of bruising or coloration.

The requested part two to Yes, Mr. Miller? but you don't gotta read before.

1.7 k Words

**************

"Jesus Christ!" Tommy laughed at you mockingly. "Look at her, struggling so hard to take it!"

Joel knelt behind you, fisting his cock above you as you chocked on his balls. "Be nice, baby's just sensitive." He warned his brother. He liked to watch Tommy's cock disappear into your little cunt.

"Yeah cause your scruffy excuse for a beard was all up in between her legs for hours before you decided to invite me in."

Joel had intended on fucking you raw in your bed again, but when Tommy heard the sounds coming out of your door, he put two and two together. After a brief, whispered deliberation with you, Joel invited him in.

'Be my own, personal porn star.' He had instructed. You knew just what Joel liked to see, and now he had the perfect view. Still, you couldn't help the sounds that drew Tommy in the first place so to keep your mouth occupied, Joel shoved his cock in your mouth. After he decided you were a little overwelmed, he switched to his balls.

"Poor little, baby..." Tommy mused. "Get'n awfully squirmy... wassamatter? Can't take it?" It was mostly playful mockery, but also his way of checking up on you.

All he got was a muffled whine as slobbered on Joel's fat balls.

Joel sat back on his haunches, pulling himself out of you but dragging his heavy balls on your face along the way, making sure to smear your make up as he spat a glob of spit on your before slapping you across the face.

"Uncle Tommy asked you a question, baby. Didn't daddy teach you your manners?"

Choking back a sob as you're stretched to the limit at the core of you, Tommy slows down to allow you to breath without his cock punching the air out of your lungs.

"Y-yes, unclemmmm, uncle Tommy?" You ask in your bestest, goodest girl voice.

"I said," Tommy grabbed your hips and yanked you down till you hit his pelvis, making you gasp. He dropped his body down to kiss your neck and said in a soft voice. "Are you doing alright?"

"Yes, Uncle Tommy, thank you sir." You seal it with a kiss on the lips and a buck of your hips, spurring Tommy on again.

The younger Miller groaned, pulling back and smiling at his brother as his hips snapped into you with fury. Both kept their shirts and a light jacket on incase they needed to clean up quick, and the way you were crying out, Joel wasn't sure you could keep from alerting the whole house when you came.

Joel placed his hands on your shoulders, pinning your wriggling body down. "Hold still, little girl..." Joel chastised, shuttering a bit at the lose of stimulation from his rough hands.

"M'm sorry daddy" You whine, but do little to stop the writhing on the bed.

Soothingly, Joel ran his hands down your still-clothes chest, swiping over your hard nipples and going back to rub your neck, repeating this motion and keeping you pinned down.

"It's okay, sweet girl, it's a lot, isn't it?"

It was, it was so fucking much. Joel was longer, but Tommy's cock was fatter, splitting you open wide. Despite the ache, you we so, so fucking high off pleasure right now, you could scream. Your stomach swooped with every thrust, Tommy hitting you right in your core as Joel massaged you, neglecting his own aching cock.

"Such a good little girl for us Joel, thanks for sharing your little toy." Tommy smacked your thigh, forcing you to bite down on your lip to prevent the yelp. "Hurts so good, but she's taking it anyway. Fuuuck, brother squeeze'n me so tight I think she's about to cum! Pathetic little thing, ain't she."

"Ohhh, she just wants to be good, Tommy! She just wants to be a little fuck doll for her daddy and uncle, bet her whole family can hear her little pussy getting torn apart." As Joel brought his hands down again, he squeezed your tits in a bruising grip, sure to leave a mark, before rolling your perky nipples between his fingers.

"Fuck, daddy!" You cry, making Tommy laugh again.

"I dunno Joel, I reckon you better fill her mouth up again before her real daddy comes in to find her being used like a blow up sex doll."

"I think you're right, brother."

"Always am."

Joel knelt up again, balls dangling above you and you open your mouth eagerly to taste his musk, but Joel surprises you by lowering himself down so his ass was right on your mouth. You could feel his balls on your chin as her jerked himself, muffling your moans and cries and begging with his ass.

"Oh fuuuck yeah, that's it, my dirty little girl"

Tommy chuckles, never relenting on his pace on you, fucking into your waiting body with everything he had. "Fucking nasty. She'll just let you do anything to her, huh?"

"Pretty much. Little girl just wants to make her daddy proud." You and Joel had actually talked about ass eating before and you said you were game, given the proper sanitary measures. Joel never actually did anything you didn't want or anything he hadn't asked about.

Glancing to the side, Joel saw your teddy, the little toy he had you clutching when he fucked you over thanksgiving and god an idea. Taking the toy and gripping at the neck, Joel pressed the button to your clit right above where his brother was defiling your little cunt. "Teddy wants you to come, baby."

He feels your whimpers reverberate between his ass cheeks as you like into him, tongue prodding at his tight hole. You briefly had the thought of slipping a finger up his ass, but remember that had not been discussed yet. You wondered if he'd let you peg him.

Joel looked up at Tommy, his brother's boyish face grinning wildly back at him. Joel had made Tommy start of easy, not going full pace just yet as he wasn't sure you could take that for too long, but now, as things were coming to an end, Joel wanted you absolutely destroyed. He picked your pretty make up smearing all over his ass.

"Go nuts Tommy. Fuck her like a rag doll."

Given full permission, Tommy was unleased. He gripped your hips, lifting them off he bed and he heard a muffled squeal before fucking hard and fast, your skirt falling down and revealing your jiggling belly. He was an absolutely mad man, slapping into you with such fervor Joel was carefully paying attention to your grip on his thighs as you ate him in case you needed to tap out, but your never once faltered on your tongue work. Joel took the moment to jerk his cock furiously, his one personal porn star getting fucking right in front of him, and him having the best seat in the house.

"Fuck, Joel." Tommy calls his attention, voice strained and eyes pinched closed. "She's fuck'n cum'n, cum'n real har- oh fuuuuck... shit! 'm cuming so hard!" With a few more grunts, Tommy spilled into you, filling you up with gushes of his warm seed.

Just then, Joel pulled back off your face just in time to spray the hot white on the red and black mixture of your make up, releasing with a grunt.

"Fuck darl'n, such a sexy little fuck doll for me..." When he was finished, Joel rubbed your teddy on your messy, soiled face. "Good girl.... such a good girl..." He coaxed Tommy to lay down, redressing himself before grabbing your makeup removing wipes and the baby wipes you added to your collection for days like this. He grabbed a few make-up wipes and tossed the baby wipes to Tommy. Joel sat on the bed, pulling your limp body towards him to rest your head on his lap. As Tommy took care gently wiping your aching and puffy pussy, tender in his strokes but thorough, Joel wiped down your soiled face, both whispering words of praise.

"Such a pretty girl"

"Did so well for us, princesca."

"Perfect thing."

Once you (and teddy) were clean, Tommy made his exit with a parting kiss, leaving you and Joel together.

"How do you feel, baby girl?" He asked, smoothing his hand over your face to sooth you.

"Great, Daddy. How do you feel?" You wanted to check in with him too. Fucking you at the same time as his brother may not have been the threesome he initially proposed, but you hoped you weren't dissapointing.

You could feel the smile in his voice. "Absolutely perfect, darling girl. amazing"

You laid there on his lap for a few moments until you heard the bathroom door opening after Tommy and your dads tell tale footsteps up the stairs.

"Heya Tom, where you been hiding?"

"Oh," Nervous laughter as he patted his stomach. "Just, you know, the eggnog. You know how I am with dairy." Tommy is talking too loud, signaling Joel to make his escape.

Joel mutters 'shitshitshit' and quickly put his shoes on, you scrambling to push him into the closet.

"You seen Joel lately? Or my kid? Wanna make sure she ain't drank too much. She gets a little dizzy sometimes with alcohol."

"Uhhh no man, ain't seen 'er. Joel i think went out for a smoke though."

"I'll check in her room."

"OH, uh, you know, she might be sleeping." He was so fucking loud and a bad actor.

You shut the closet door, and scramble back to your bed just in time for your dad to knock gently before carefully opening and calling your name in hushed tone. "High honey, you feeling okay? Disappeared there for a moment."

"Yeah dad, I'm alright. Just feeling a little under the weather is all."

"You have too much to drink?"

"Yeah, that might be it..."

"Ill get you some water, alright? And a bite to eat. make you feel better. Be back in a sec."

"Thank you daddy!"

When the door closed, you tell Joel it's clear and he comes out of the closet.

"Go, he's gonna make me leftovers, now's your chance!" You begin shoving him to your door, just Joel stops, pinching your cheeks with his thumb and forefingers.

"Don't you ever call another man daddy, understood?"

Through your squished cheeks you murmur. "Yes, Mr. Miller." He kisses you on the forehead and makes his exit.

*****************

Special shout out to @pedge-page bc the teddy scene was from their work Plushies Series Masterlist that fried my brain!

Thank you for all your love on yes, mr miller? i hope you like this too!

Im not getting rid of my tag list, but im adding an update blog, @romana-updates ! come follow and/or turn on notifications so you dont miss a thing!

But if being tagged is more your style, comment on the tag list linked above!

@fandxmslxt69 @runa-falls @k-ra @whatthefishh @ahookedheroespureheart @mikaelak @littlenosoul @stevenandmarcslove @pikapuff-316 @del-ightfulling @faretheeoscar @harriedandharassed @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @campingwiththecharmings @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @milly-louise @casa-boiardi @joeldjarin

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Don't Fear the Reaper [Part 2]

Gender Neutral Reader x Rook Hunt Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: 'Hello Darkness, my old friend. I see you've come to stalk my store again.' Or, why fear Death when you can just Pavlov him with cookies into carrying your groceries?

A/N: Based on this wonderful brain rot from a very lovely anon! Continued apologies to anyone who actually knows French, because I do not lol. So Rook's babbling is all Google baby

[PART 1] [PART 2]

“I hear you’ve been dealing with an infestation.”

You arched a brow and pointedly settled the last of the little, strawberry, tarts into its box with a heavy plap. You took your time piping a neat dollop of cream on the top and then fixing the tiny sugar berry adornments into a smiley face.

“You’re free to call the health inspector,” you intoned, handing over the box. “That’ll be ten copper, your highness.”

Riddle’s face went as red as the dessert in his hands.

“Don’t call me that!” he hissed, ducking back further beneath the hood of his cloak. The cloak that was clearly made of the finest, crimson, silks money could buy. The one with real gold embroidered along the crisp edges and an ivory clasp shaped into a literal crown. 

You shrugged. At least he’d moved past demanding outright that ‘of course he wasn’t the prince! How dare you! To think yourself so presumptuous! As if royalty would ever even consider visiting this hovel of yours! Off with your head!’ Those had been a fun few weeks.

You poked around in your stacks upon stacks of baked goods and unearthed a little, cherry, cookie. You slipped it into the box alongside his tart and hoped that counted as a metaphorical pat on the head. There, there, little lord. This humble one will tell no one of your secret, commoner, shames.

Some of that choked-red color started to fade from his cheeks, and Riddle accepted the offering with an expression that on any normal person you might have called a pout.  

“I was trying to be tactful,” he spat, tucking the bribe further into the packaging with a stiff twitch of the fingers. “But I don’t know why I even bother.”

You shrugged again and made brief eye contact with the terribly unsubtle guard stationed at your front door. Cater, or Carter, or something like that. He greeted everyone who walked by with a cheerful little wave and a wink. He was charismatic, and loud, and apparently—as you had discovered when you’d tried to hand him a little slice of cake as a consolation treat for putting up with his charge’s emotionally constipated nonsense—hated sweet things with every fiber of his being. You didn’t trust him for a second.

The pair of you locked gazes over Riddle’s shoulder, and his lips quirked into a smirk that was sharper than it was fond. Ah. So it was one of those days, was it?

“Is there something else you wanted?” you prodded intentionally, as Riddle turned to make his retreat.

The Prince paused for a moment, and you watched his teeth worry a bit at his lower lip—a nervous habit he claimed forwards and backwards he absolutely did not possess. After a moment of silent deliberation, he straightened his spine into something stiff and regal.

“There are rumors going around that your business may be suffering from a… pest problem,” he said, like he was chewing over each word individually. “And while I firmly believe that people should endeavor to work through their own problems, if this is indeed a problem…” he paused, hands tightening a bit around the pastry box tucked neatly between his palms before looking back up to meet your gaze with that harsh sort of determination that always made him seem very much like someone who ought to be ruling over entire kingdoms. “I’m certain the Royal Family would be more than happy to come to the aid any of their subjects, should they ask for it.”

You ducked your head in a nod that you hoped was the appropriate level of polite for such a declaration.

“Your concern is appreciated, your high—”

His face twisted up in a sneer and you beamed.

“—Highly esteemed customer,” you finished with a chirp. “But I’m perfectly capable of crushing a few cockroaches.”

Riddle nodded at you tightly and made a swift exit. Cater flicked his fingers at you in a half-salute and the pair continued on down the cobblestone street and out of sight.

“Do you actually have pests here?” a tiny old lady asked from her place perusing your shelves. She looked like an onion that had been left in the sun for a couple dozen years, and the question seemed kinder than it did probing. Like she would happily help you hunt down the little buggers herself. “Roaches, I mean…?”

“Oh no,” you reassured. “It’s much bigger.”

You watched the poor thing nearly go into conniptions and offered her a cup of fresh chai on the house.

.

.

As much as you had kindly reassured your most affluent patron otherwise, you were indeed suffering under the aforementioned ‘pest problem.’ And while your squishing abilities were normally the stuff of legend, you didn’t think there was a boot big enough in the whole world to rid you of your current guest.

“Quelle très belle matinée! And made all the better by my dearest friend!”

You grunted and let the door slip shut with a tinkle behind him. Rook nearly bounced to your oven and peered inside with all the eagerness of a wide-eyed child. You’d long since learned not to bother yanking him back from the flames. They never even seemed to warm his pale cheeks, let alone melt him into the puddle of charred goo that they rationally ought to.

“Macarons?” he chirped, and turned to you like he was waiting for a Good Noodle Sticker. He leaned closer, and you watched the sputtering heat sway around and away from him like a tangible thing. He sniffed a few times, looking thoughtful. “Flavored delightfully with that lovely rosewater syrup you were steeping last night?

You hummed in affirmation and handed him a little almond cookie for his efforts. It felt a bit like training a dog.

The first time you’d told a dejected looking Rook that he could eat his treat in your shop rather than using it an as excuse to punt him out the door, he’d practically glowed. And had apparently taken the offer as an extension of a permanent invitation. He still waited patiently at the front door each morning, still marveled at the merry jingle of the bell when you allowed him entrance, and always wiped his feet. You’d hoped a bit that perhaps overexposure to your meager, repetitive, livelihood would have him eventually bowing out from boredom. But if anything, he seemed to have become more enamored with your dealings as the weeks passed.

And now that you’d given him express permission to hover, his originally vested interest had become outright sticky. There was no more plastering himself distantly to the window when he could go and literally shove his face into an oven, or perch himself at your shoulder like a wide-eyed owl as you tried to whip egg whites into peaks without repeatedly elbowing him in the gut. He puttered after you like a duck quacking for its mother, spouting off every question under the sun about temperatures, and consistencies, and the merits of baking powder versus soda.

“And these are meant to be… burned? Yes?”

“Dehydrated,” you sighed. “And not these. You’re thinking of the meringue cookies.”

“Ah, I see. Those crunchy delicacies from yesterday that looked to be little clouds,” he hummed, nodding along. The feather on his hat bobbed over a hot coal and sparked with embers. You reached out with a frustrated huff to whack the walking fire hazard back into a gently smoking mess rather than the start of an outright blaze. “Merci, merci!” Rook trilled as you beat him with a damp towel. Black soot floated through the air like dust motes under the sun, and he grinned through your grouchy manhandling as he always did. “Ahh, cher pâtissier! You always do dote on me so!”

You were about to argue back about how keeping him from unintentionally annihilating your entire kitchen was not ‘doting,’ when your eyes trailed over something strangely gunky and off colored stuck on the back of his cloak. You leaned forward to pluck up whatever it was, and Rook’s fingers flew out to snatch up your wrist before you could even blink.

“Please pardon me, mon cœur!” he beamed, the lines of his leather gloves a soft weight against your flour dusted skin. “I have tried to be most diligent in keeping myself clean for our morning rendezvous! But alas, it would seem I’ve missed a spot this time around.”

Part of you was sorely tempted to ask what—who—had apparently dirtied his robes. But you decided ultimately that it was still far too early to be discussing the remnants of the unfortunate victims off his hit list, and honestly you really weren’t sure you would have cared even with another four hours of sleep and a full mug of caffeine in you. So you waved him off and went back to worrying over your spice racks and tallying cups of flour.

Rook pillowed his chin in his hand and watched you putter about with a sigh that sounded far too besotted for anyone’s good. Those eerily green eyes of his seemed to glow in the lowlight, and he only gushed even more ridiculously when you launched a wet rag at the mess on his back and demanded he mop up his own nonsense or get out.  

.

.

You didn’t realize that Rook was slowly staying later and later into the day until Ace came by to collect your weekly booklet of receipts and would not step through the door.

“What are you, contagious?” you harumphed, pointedly leaning over the threshold to shove your collection of bits and bobs into his waiting hands rather than stepping out into the street to join him.

“More like superstitious,” he snipped. He crossed his arms and gave your shop a pointed once over. “I thought Egg Boy was overexaggerating, but you really just…” He waved his hands around his head for a moment before letting out an angry huff that sounded a bit too much like an overboiled kettle. “Don’t you have any sense of self-preservation?!”

“You literally ate raw dough off my floor less than a month ago,” you accused.

“I already told you I didn’t know it wasn’t cooked!—And that’s not the point!” he seethed. “Don’t you realize who that is?” he continued, voice dipping into one of those angry whispers that was never really a whisper.

You rolled your eyes and turned to shout over your shoulder. “Rook Hunt?”

The blonde instantly perked up from his place perched by the counter, where he’d very clearly been watching this entire exchange with a lazily curling grin.

“Oui! However can I be of assistance to you, my lovely, darling, pâtis—”

You turned back to Ace.

“Yes, I know who he is.”

“—And of course I know who you are as well!” Rook barreled onwards, slipping forward to drape himself along your shadow like a cat might settle itself into a sunbeam. He never leaned on you outright, but he always made a point to get close enough that he may as well have. “The wonderful artiste who has shown me nothing but the greatest kindness! Ah, mon humain préféré! With your endless hospitality and words sweeter than even the finest of the confections you craft!”

Ace’s expression twisted up like the very idea of another living being considering you to be even halfway pleasant was a war crime. Which, you know, totally fair. But before your redheaded acquaintance could continue with his appalled gaping, Rook leaned over your shoulder with a smile that looked not quite right on his face. The wide brim of his hat obscured your view of the rest of him—casting the remaining slopes of his sharp features into inky darkness.

“And but of course, I know you as well, Monsieur Trappola!”

Whatever rotten, sour, look Ace had been pulling froze over into something nearly deathlike. He went so pale so quickly your thoughts swung back to wondering if maybe he really was contagious with something.

Your shaky friend? Fellow gossip? associate audibly gulped, but when neither he nor your leech of a guest said anything further, you prompted them both with a vaguely curious, “Oh? You’ve met before?”

“Not recently,” Rook trilled, sounding positively delighted. “But I suppose I am familiar with everyone in this petite ville one way or another.”

You hummed, not particularly satisfied with that non-answer of an explanation. But your brief bought of inquisitiveness was quickly being overshadowed by the very real risk that Ace may actually topple over frothing at the mouth and twitching like a rabid racoon at your doorstep. Which would no doubt be terrible for business.

“You better get going,” you prompted, debating giving him a shove with your foot. “Before you start running behind on your pickups.”

“Right…” Ace muttered, swallowing past a lump in his throat. “I should—I’ll be doing that. Leaving. I’ll be leaving.”

“Adieu, Monsieur Trappola!~” Rook called, as the door slid shut with a pleasant tingle. “I’m certain we’ll be seeing you!”

There was a lingering, creaking, da-dong sound from overhead and you wondered idly if maybe there was something a bit off with your bells.

.

.

That afternoon, after you finally heaved an exhausted sigh of relief and flipped the ‘OPEN’ sign at your storefront to ‘CLOSED,’ Rook was still perched on the little stool you’d set out for him. The late-day sunshine cast him in all sorts of unfamiliar shades of gold, and while the shadows beneath his feet had always seemed to stretch a bit long and sit a bit oddly, they twitched even more strangely in the glow of the summer light. You blinked at him in open surprise, and he blinked back at you.

“What are you still doing here?”

“Mon chéri, I am always here!” he chirped, and you rolled your eyes towards the ceiling in a silent bid for patience.

“No you’re not,” you argued. “I think I would have noticed.”

Rook held a gloved hand to his mouth to smother a laugh and shook his head at you like you were just the funniest little thing.

“As you say, my tenacious pâtissier.”

You sighed and moved to untie the ribbon of your apron. “Whatever. I suppose I could use your help anyways. I need to run to the markets.”

The Bounty Hunter’s eyes lit with that familiar, sparkling, enthusiasm and he clasped his fingers in his lap with a gust of breath that sounded like it rattled every one of his bones as it squeaked its way out of him.You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. You hoped he hadn’t caught whatever mystery ailment Ace had been sagging under when he’d arrived at your door that morning.

“Shopping!” he outright beamed, putting the glitter of the afternoon sun to shame. “Une nouvelle aventure avec mon amour! Et en journée! Temps à passer avec—”

“Enoughwith your nonsense,” you groaned, tossing your dirtied apron onto a free hook. “Do you want to come or not?”

“But of course! I would be most honored to—”

You shoved a wicker basket into his hands and hurriedly moved to usher him out the door before he could begin monologuing in earnest.

Rook walked the familiar path to the markets like a tourist on holiday—stopping every now and again to wax poetic about the way that a potted flower looked in the afternoon light, staring in awe at each bizarre crack in the pavement as if it was a natural marvel worth gawking at. He muttered something dazedly under his breath at one point about ‘what messes might embed themselves in these fissures of the earth,’ but you carried on like you’d gone blind and deaf. A skill you’d become incredibly proficient with as of late.

When you finally arrived at the little hub of stalls, there was an audible gasp from somewhere in the thin crowds. You decided once again that you were better off feigning impairment and pushed onwards as if you had no idea that people were parting around you and your new companion like the pair of you were riddled with plague sores. The gossipy man who sold you your favorite strawberries went a bit green when you approached, and you continued merrily with your farce.

You had only just leaned forward to get a better look at some of the berries you tended to hoard like a dragon to gold, when suddenly the bright reds and blues beneath your fingers went nearly grey—nearly rotten. There was a long, sharp, shadow curling along the fruit. Rook was hovering at your shoulder, as he of course tended to do, and you glanced between him and the twisting, creeping, darkness swallowing the contents of the little stall in front of you. Clearly it was his purple-clad frame blocking the sunlight and casting all these weird shadows, but it was still a bit bizarre. It was like the brightness itself was being sucked from the afternoon, rather than just the cool play of the light that it ought to be.

You reached out curiously to poke a finger into the dancing bits of darkness and were surprised to find that it felt like something solid. A tangible sort of bite against your skin. Something sharp, and cold as the grave—

“Perhaps the melons, mon cœur!” Rook chirped loudly, redirecting your prodding with a cheery nudge. “They smell enticingly ripe.”

You hummed, your musings on the unnatural settling into the back of your mind in favor of reaching out to give the fruits a good shake. They did feel quite nice.

Rook swayed a bit at your shoulder, and you glanced up at him with an arched brow.

“Are you alright?”

“I do not often spend time in the sun,” he admitted, and you blinked once again at those lanky shadows before turning on him with a tight, little, frown.

“You should have said something,” you scolded. “I would have brought you a—” your eyes landed on his wide brimmed hat and its cheerful, black, feather as it bobbed in the breeze. “…never mind. But you still should have told me.”

“Ah, your worry is a balm upon ma pauvre âme!” he crooned, resting his palm against his heart. “What has a wretched creature such as I done to earn such warm regard? And alas—what then could this poor beast do to maintain such a blessing?”

“He could help me find a bag of milled flour for one thing,” you sighed, hoping to derail the burgeoning soliloquy.

“But of course!” he chirped and immediately darted off around a corner to hunt down what you’d asked of him.

You gathered up a heaping portion of fresh berries (back to the their healthy, summer, glow now that your shadow had been sent away), and ruffled around in your bag to retrieve the coppers needed to pay for your haul. The vendor reached out a shaky hand to clasp at your wrist and you raised a brow at him curiously.

“Are you okay?” he hissed, still a very unpleasant shade of sea-sick.

“Are any of us really?” you intoned blandly, and dropped the required coins neatly on the cart.

You’d only just turned back around when Rook came trotting back through the rows of carts—three gigantic sacks of flour tossed over one shoulder. It looked absolutely ridiculous, with the mass of them rising far past his head and setting his hat at an awkward slope.

“That seems a little excessive,” you sighed.

“Non, non!” he argued. “You are nearly out! There will certainly not be enough to prepare both the croissants and that lovely chocolate cake you were planning to make.”

“Oh,” you blinked, and mentally tried to tally up whatever had remained of your provisions. He was probably right—you’d gone a bit overboard experimenting with different types of pretzel dough. “You don’t mind carrying that, do you?” you asked with a furrowed brow. “That all looks like it weighs nearly as much as you do.”

Rook chuckled pleasantly under his breath, and somehow managed to dip forward into a bow that didn’t end with the enormous sacks balanced atop his shoulders spilling forward all over the road.

“It would be my pleasure, mon cœur,” he smiled, very nearly a purr.

You shrugged and went back to meandering contentedly through the stalls, happy to push all of the menial physical labor off onto someone who seemed more than delighted to relish in its ache. Rook trailed merrily at your heels—the sun heavy at his back and highlighting each step with those dripping, inky, shadows. The faint outline of a ragged, hooded, robe brushed nearly unseen through the dirt, broken only by trailing, white, puffs of loose flour.

.

.

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TAG LIST [CLOSED]

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[nikki-tine]

Pretty hastily slapped together, but here's a comm sheet for those who were wondering about the prices in my pinned post! I'm a little nervous about taking comms from social media again, but I'm open to it as my family needs the money so often now...

More recently, I've taken to working on iPad - this will be a more common thing as the summer months roll around and it becomes too stuffy to stick to my PC for working on art.

Here's what I CAN do, for the moment:

Cute, simple designs - Pokemon and simple (rookie-level or earlier) Digimon are a strong suit of mine, but if you have a wonderfully simple OC I can work with too then it'll do!

Cats. I loooove drawin' cats! If you have a Warriors OC, chances are I can draw em.

Fluffy stuff overall! (As long as it's simple enough, obviously - Fluff is another comfort thing I looove to work with. This means literal fluffy stuff like fuzzy animals/critters, and figurative fluff like cuddles and tickles!)

Sans!! (No seriously, I funkin love drawin' sans. If you got a Sans I can draw, I will happily draw him!)

Here's what I CAN'T do, for the moment, on the other hand:

NSFW art (This is because a) there's minors who follow this blog - I have to keep that stuff away (and keep them safe)! and b) I'm not ready to take NSFW commissions, and probably won't be a for a while.)

Heavy gore and themes (It's a lot to work with, and it's not something I personally dabble in if at all, so the result would NOT be to your liking if I tried more than likely lol)

Intricate Detail (I have my reasons for this! My wrist has been acting up more often in the last few years and so intricate detail is... overwhelming for me, right now, outside of personal work. It's just not a strong suit of mine, as much as I'd love it to be - it's not quite a part of the art style as it is right now.)

Added notes:

- I have the right to decline a commission if it either makes me uncomfortable to work with it or otherwise is overwhelming. That is to say, if one artist can't achieve what you're looking for then usually that's an indicator to hold onto your money for a bit until you find the right person!

I send the paypal link at the halfway point (the sketch, just before lineart) normally - but if you want to pay upfront, then please let me know. (I don't wait until the piece is completely done as a safety measure to ensure the person commissioning me doesn't nab the piece and run lol)

I CANNOT REFUND ONCE THE COMMISSION IS PAID FOR. The money goes STRAIGHT into family-related necessities like bills and groceries, and I absolutely CANNOT afford to return money when we are consistently struggling to even get food for the house, nevermind commissions. (It's also just kinda mean?? :c)

I am on commission burnout - what this means is that my work may take longer than usual to get done, but I hold to my word that I get it done no matter how long it takes. If you need the piece done as priority, then make sure you specify when giving the details for your commission! (I do best, however without a time limit or deadline to work with.)

As of right now, I'm practically (metaphorically) crying for simple designs due to this burnout! I need something I can just fly through to get done so I don't stress myself out further on a queue that's been waiting to be done for a hot second.

[wallydrling]

a billion trillion kisses (for you)

pairing: wally darling/reader

rating: g

author's note: gender neutral reader to the best of my ability, probably some discrepancies having to do with the lore, i made wally taller lol

ao3 (it's formatted so much better on there. i hate u tumblr!)

You’d moved to Home last Spring, on one of the rainiest days the little town had ever seen.

Looking back now, it’s a fond memory. But at the time, rain pouring down from the sky, soaking your hair and your clothes and all your cardboard boxes, it’d been miserable. You remember just wanting to crawl beneath a canopy tree and cry. Your boxes of books had all fallen apart, landing on the wet pavement outside of your house. Your favorite shoes were ruined, covered up to the laces in mud. It felt like a sign. Something sent from the universe, urging you to turn around and leave. To go back to where you came from.

Only, you couldn’t remember where that was. You still can’t.

And right as you’d given up, settling on your front porch with your face buried in your hands, the clouds parted. Metaphorically, of course. The sky continued to cry. But, a set of footsteps headed towards you, sloshing in the puddles that had formed, and you’d peeked between your fingers to see–him. All lean legs, and a deep, blue cardigan with hair to match, covered up in a red raincoat. He’d been wearing loafers, then. Something you’d come to familiarize yourself with, something you’d later recognize as his signature. He walked towards you with all the confidence in the world, and a bright smile on his face.

“Hi there, new neighbor!” He called out, loud enough to be heard over the rain. “I’m Wally. I live just over that way,” he pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “I couldn’t help but notice all of these books lying on the ground, and then I saw you and thought, ‘Oh, looks like they need help!’ So, here I am.”

His very presence had seemed so outlandish back then; so unreal. His will to lend a helping hand had felt a little bit degrading. Someone as bright as him, bursting with color and cheer, coming to stand in front of you on such a horrendous day. You’d wanted to be mad, to snap at him to go away. You remember that you hadn’t really felt like socializing, then.

But before you could get a single word out, Wally knelt to the ground, and began gathering your books in his arms. They were covered in mud, and dripping rainwater. They dirtied his cardigan as he held them to his chest, but he didn’t seem to mind. Once he had his arms full of them, he stepped around you, and walked straight into your house. Like he lived there, too. Like it would’ve been silly of him to wait for an invitation.

Shocked at his boldness, you sprung to your feet, hot on his heels. You watched with big, wide eyes as he set your books down on the floor. The carpet was covered in muck and water, and Wally even more so; the mud on his cardigan would likely stain, and his rainbow pants were patchy with water. His hair, still half-styled in a pompadour despite the heavy rain, dripped rain down his yellow cheeks. He wiped his hands off on his pants, and flashed a bright smile at you.

“Do you need some help getting the other boxes in here?” He’d asked.

You blinked at him, once. Twice. Had no idea what to make of him. And then, subtly, you nodded. “Yeah. That’d…that’d be appreciated.”

So, that’s how you met your best friend.

Only, now, that terminology is beginning to feel incorrect. Because Wally is a friend, yes, and he is best in the sense that he is your favorite in all of Home (Julie would positively lose it if you said that aloud), but it's been a year of living in this town; of seeing his bright smile, and hearing his awkward, warm laughter nearly every day. It's been easy to hold Frank, Eddie, and even Howdy at a distance–two of the three are already a pair, and you don't see them nearly as often as you do Wally. Even Julie only shows up knocking at your door a couple of times a week.

You and Wally have become near-inseparable. If you aren't taking walks, stopping to cloud gaze every so often, then you're painting together. If you aren't painting together, you're ransacking the bodega, or arranging weekend picnics in the park for all of the residents. And if you aren't doing any of those things, then the both of you are curled up on your sofa, flipping through magazines, or reading poetry together. It isn't even a conscious thought anymore; not on your end, at least. It's become so normal to wake up, go about your morning routine, and then meet up with Wally come noon.

The other residents are getting suspicious, to say the least. Julie hounds you about it each time you have a sleepover (at least twice a week), Eddie has started wiggling his eyebrows in your general direction each time he sees you together, and even Howdy in all of his obliviousness gives you a picnic basket of food randomly one weekend for, "your date with Wally. On the house!"

You're not sure if the others are teasing Wally as much as they're teasing you, or if he'd even notice, but you know it's only a matter of time before someone makes an implication that you can't come back from. You're essentially bracing yourself for the question, the one everyone has yet to ask–what are you guys?

Julie is hosting a 'color-by-numbers' event at her house this evening, and nearly everyone will be in attendance. And if they asked you the question, you wouldn't have an answer. Not a clear one, anyway. You and Wally are friends; you can say that with confidence. You're each other's confidants. Wally has told you things he's never told anyone else. How Barnaby has spent a lot of time teaching him how to recognize his emotions, and how he gets lonely, sometimes. Was almost always lonely before you moved to Home. How he is so scared to lose you and the others, the anxiety of the thought alone renders him paralyzed if he thinks about it for too long. He trusts you, and you trust him, and you love him, even more so. You don't really know what to make of that.

So, there isn't one answer to the question of what are you guys? There are a dozen, jumbled and criss-crossed and tangled, and you can't pull them apart alone. You'd need Wally's help, and that would mean confessing, and you're not willing to do that. It could ruin everything.

When late afternoon rolls around, you're ready to go. You're wearing your favorite outfit, and your hair is styled to perfection. You've even put perfume on; the kind Howdy made for you from fresh berries, and you don't know why that matters or if Wally can even smell, but–

You're getting ahead of yourself. Getting nervous. Now isn't the time for a freak-out. You take one last look in the mirror, steel your shoulders, and set off for Julie's house.

"Yay, you're here!" Julie throws open the door, tugging you inside before you even get the chance to knock. "You're the last guest to arrive. Now we can really get the party started!"

You wave at the others as you step into the living room. Sally is here, serenading Barnaby with a ballad you've never heard before while he closes his eyes, nodding along with her voice. Eddie and Frank are bickering about something, but Eddie is borderline giggling, so you know it isn't serious. Howdy is getting his paints all lined up in a row, face pinched in concentration. And Wally is sitting in front of the couch, back propped up against it. Your eyes meet his, and he smiles at you softly, stealing the breath from your throat. You stare at him for longer than is appropriate, and you know this because Julie clears her throat quietly, and pulls you to sit down on the floor next to her.

"Everyone got their color-by-number sheets, paints, and brushes?" Julie asks just as she places a sheet of paper in front of you. "Let's begin, then!"

It's fun. It always is, with this group. Barnaby is teasing Julie for painting outside of the lines, and Sally and Howdy have turned it into a competition to see who can finish their painting the fastest. You're happy, laughing along and trying not to spill paint water as you bump elbows with those around you. No one is as good an artist as Wally, but they certainly try, and he's all too happy to help Barnaby get the tiny bits with a detail brush, or help Eddie select the best shade of red. He makes polite conversation, and tells these silly little jokes that aren't really that funny but everyone laughs anyway, and even offers to clean the brushes once the paintings are finished, but–something isn't right. You can tell by looking at him that he's got something on his mind. His eyes are foggy, and his smile doesn't quite stretch his face the way it usually does.

He heads into the kitchen with a cup of dirty paintbrushes, and you quietly murmur to Julie, "I'm going to go help him. Be right back."

You don't give her time to react before you're on your feet, hurrying after him. You sidle up to him, silently watching as he runs each brush under the water, using his fingers to clear the paint away. He doesn't turn to look at you, and so you duck your head forward to try and catch his gaze. He positively avoids eye contact.

Okay. So, something is upsetting him, then.

"Wally?" You try, keeping your voice even. "Are you alright?

He's silent for a moment, hands stilling beneath the faucet. And then, "No. Not really."

He is never usually this upfront about his emotions. New to acknowledging them, he typically spends a lot of time deciphering what he's even feeling before discussing it with you. You'd just seen him yesterday. He was fine and happy and sweet as he dropped you off at your home, and waved goodbye. This–the coolness to his voice, and the stilted look on his face– is a recent development.

"You're mad at me," you say, slowly. The words don't feel right on your tongue. The two of you never fight. You've never even seen him angry. "Aren't you?"

He drops the paint brushes into the sink and sighs. Actually sighs. "No. Not mad at you."

"Mad at something I did, then?" You ask.

He turns to look at you, finally. He is nearly the same height as you, just a tiny bit shorter, but he's able to look directly into your eyes. His mouth is stiff and straight, and you hadn't noticed from far away, but his eyes look dull up close. Lifeless.

"Barnaby said something to me, earlier today," he tells you. "I've been thinking about it."

"Okay," you nod, unsure of where this is going.

"He said, 'if they haven't returned your feelings by now, it's probably because they don't feel the same way, pal,'" Wally does his best Barnaby impression, but it's too slow and a little flat. "And then you came inside, and you sat next to Julie and Howdy! So, I think it must be true. And I am very, very not happy about that. Very…sad. Yes, that's it. I'm sad."

Your heart does this weird thing in your chest, and your stomach tightens. His feelings? What exactly are they specifically? You've upset him, somehow, without even meaning to. You've made him sad without getting a say-so. If he'd just talk to you, you could explain. You could clear things up.

You reach out to take his hand. Physical affection is still new to him, and you know that. You try to be careful; try not to push him. He is learning more and more every single day, and you know that he's grown to love hand-holding. You tangle your fingers with his, and his cheeks go a little pink. You can't stop staring at them.

"Wally," you begin, trying to keep your voice level despite the butterflies in your belly fluttering around because of his touch. "Remember a few months ago, when we talked about how you have to tell me when you're feeling lonely, because I can't just know all on my own?"

He nods. "I remember."

You flash him a small, gentle smile. "Good. Okay, so–all emotions are like that. You have to tell someone what you're feeling. They can't see into your mind."

"But," he starts in a huff, foot tapping against the tiled floor, "Barnaby said-"

"I know what he said," you carefully cut in, giving his hand a little squeeze. "But, this is just like when you're lonely. I can't understand how to help, or make you feel better until you tell me about it. Okay?" He nods. "Alright, so…why don't you try and explain what feelings I supposedly haven't returned."

"It's hard," he says. He lets go of your hand, and leans back against the countertop. "It's different from sadness, or loneliness. I know what they feel like. And I know happiness, too, and even anger. But this is–I don't know what to call it."

You hum, mulling over his words. "Well, can you tell me what it feels like? Physically, I mean. Like when you're sad and your eyes burn, or when you're lonely and your chest hurts."

"It's like," he closes his eyes for a moment. "Hot. My cheeks feel warm, like when I help Poppy take her cookies out of the oven, and the air hits my face."

"Okay," you say. "Good. Keep going."

"And sometimes my stomach, just–I don't know. It feels like there are tiny worms inside, wriggling around," he says.

You think you understand what he's trying to explain. What feeling he's attempting to map. You know it all too well; have been beating it back with a stick to keep it at bay in his presence for weeks and weeks. Still, you don't want to project anything onto him. So, you wave a hand and urge him to continue.

"Sometimes, when you hug Julie, I just get so mad," he murmurs. He is looking at you now, all wide eyes and clenched fists down by his sides. "And when you and Sally go on walks, and she holds your hand, I can't-" He cuts himself off, and takes a deep breath. "Barnaby says it isn't fair to feel like that. He says it's selfish, but I just–I can't help it."

Your lungs seem to stop working within your body, air stuck in your throat. You can't open your mouth; can't unhinge your jaw. You have no way to expel it.

"When you hold my hand, it tingles," he takes a step towards you. "I made Barnaby teach me how to hug because I wanted to do it with you."

You remember that whole debacle. When you first moved to Home, about a month into your friendship, you'd tried to give Wally a hug. He had totally gone limp in your arms, unaware of how to even hug back. And then, suddenly, a couple of weeks later, he'd gotten better. Was able to slide one arm around your waist. It progressed further with more experience, and now, he is perhaps the best hug-giver in all of Home.

You blink at him. Manage to wheeze out, "You learned how to hug…for me?"

"Yes," he nods. He takes another step towards you, the toes of your shoes touching, and the look in his eyes cannot be described as anything but hopeful. He raises both hands up, up, and cups your cheeks. "I've been watching Frank and Eddie a lot. Barnaby says they have a special kind of love. That they–they're partners, and they've promised themselves to each other."

Your ears are practically on fire, your entire face so hot you know Wally must be able to feel its warmth.

His thumb swipes along the apple of your cheek. "I know that their touches are special. Different from how Barnaby and I touch, or Julie and Sally do. I want–I've been watching them, and I want to have what they have, with you."

"Sometimes, they say 'I love you' to each other, and I know they mean that in a special way, too," He smiles now, soft. Rose-petal delicate around the edges. "I want-"

"Wally," you squeeze your eyes shut so tight you see pops of color behind the lids. Your heart feels as though it is clambering for an escape, trying to make its way up your throat. "Stop, please. I can't–you don't even understand what you're saying right now. You don't know what love is. You don't know what it means."

"That's not fair," he whispers. He brings your face closer to his. "You asked me to explain, so I did. And it isn't–it's not fair for you to decide what I do or don't understand. I'm trying my best."

"I know," you say on an exhale.

"I told you how I feel," he goes on.

"I know," you echo.

"And I know what it means to want to hold someone," he murmurs. "I know, now. I didn't before."

"Before what?" You ask, despite your better judgement.

His eyes sparkle, just a little. Just enough. "Before you."

"Love is a heavy thing, Wally," you tell him. Your knees feel weak, and this is so hard to take in, so hard to conceptualize because you've never let yourself entertain the thought before. But you're trying to get the words out, for him. He deserves your honesty. "When you promise yourself to someone, it's difficult to take it back."

"I wouldn't want to take it back," he rushes out. One of his hands moves around to press against the base of your neck. "Why would I want to take it back?"

"Well," you begin, slow, "you could become unsure-"

"I won't," he interrupts, impatient and jittery.

"You could decide that you didn't mean it."

"Never," he says, almost startled. "If this feeling in my belly and my head and my chest is love, I don't–I'll do everything I can to make sure that it never goes away."

"There are lots of ways to love somebody," you argue, but it sounds weak, even to your own ears. Futile. You are fighting a losing battle, and you know it.

"Stop," he pleads, resting his forehead against yours. He closes his eyes. "Just tell me. Was Barnaby right? Do you really not feel the…the same way about me?"

You laugh at this, wet and sticky in the back of your throat. "Has Barnaby ever been right about anything?" You tease.

"Rarely," Wally says with a grin.

"I love you," you tell him. "Like, the same way that Frank and Eddie love each other. I love you like a promise."

"Like a promise," he repeats. He moves back, far enough that you can see how big his smile stretches his face, but he's still got one palm on your cheek, and the other on your neck. "Like-"

He leans forward and presses a closed-mouth kiss to your lips, pulling away with a little smack, and a triumphant, "Muah!"

Your eyes go so wide you fear they might roll out of your head, and your face is so hot it might as well be spewing flames. Wally is standing there, looking pleased with himself and the tiniest bit smug, and a laugh startles its way up your throat like bubbles. You playfully shove at his shoulder, and fall into him as you laugh harder.

"I saw Frank and Eddie do that, too," he tells you, one arm wrapping around your waist.

"Of course you did," you mumble into his neck, grin splitting your face. "That's not–it wasn't quite right, but the effort was there."

"I'll get better with practice," he says.

Scandalized, you pull away to look at him, mouth agape. "Wally Darling! Are you flirting with me right now?"

"Yes," he says, blunt. He smiles bright and pretty, and boops your nose with his finger. "I've read two of Julie's romance books. I'm a very fast learner."

You return his smile, and press a hand to your chest, right over your heart. You feel positively full to bursting, and you know that, whatever comes next, things won't be smooth sailing always. Wally has a lot of growing to do, and you're going to have to learn to support him along the way. Love is not clear-cut; isn't written in permanent ink on notebook paper. It ebbs and flows like watercolor paint, and can wash away as quickly as it came.

But–Wally looks at you, skin yellow-orange beneath the dull, overhead lights, and he grins wide and infectious and so, so pretty. He leans forward to press another kiss to your cheek, smacking a second, "muah!" into your ear, and it isn't everything. It isn't an answer, or the end-all be-all. But it is good, and right. And it is enough.

[impactdial]

(found this old zosopp fic wip and decided to clean it up a bit and post it here! zosoppers come get your snack lol. sorry for the tired tiger metaphors)

Zoro was well aware of the self imposed curse he’d laid upon himself. After Kuina’s passing, he had thrown himself into endless training to fulfill his promise and as a result, he rarely bothered with other people. Naturally, when his reputation had grown as a bounty hunter, most people avoided him anyway; thus Zoro was used to keeping a certain distance between himself and those around him. Becoming a Straw Hat challenged that distance, especially with a captain like Luffy. 

But Zoro was accustomed to destruction. Had known it intimately for years when his grief had weighed heavier and he swung it in tandem with Wado clenched between his jaws tight enough to ache. A rampaging creature provoked by the sight and heavy smell of blood, his blades akin to claws used to mangle flesh and spread fear. His crewmates had worn down the worst of him, whittling him into a shape they could hold without worry of his edges cutting them. 

Perhaps it was Zoro’s fault for not discouraging it, but Usopp eventually drew closer over time, like he was hellbent on it. Given the sniper's affinity for physical touch, much like their captain, maybe it was just unavoidable on Usopp's part. Taming the tiger, so to speak, making him as much a pet as a protector.

But a tamed beast was not the same as a domesticated one.

Hesitant touches soon became clingy and seeking for attention or comfort; Usopp's lean frame pressing into Zoro's side became second nature. Card games with distracted conversation became typical (though truthfully they were mostly one sided--Zoro much preferred to listen and Usopp never seemed to mind).

Usopp dared to place his hand in the tiger’s jaws. And Zoro, for all his foolishness, allowed it.

It wasn’t until the incident at Water 7 when the jaws finally snapped closed and Usopp was left with a deep, spilling wound for his trouble. Guilt lodged itself firmly in Zoro’s chest even long after their sniper returned to them, and he was sick with it when Usopp attempted to mend the hurt between them. That alone bothered Zoro, that Usopp even thought he had to mend anything, and he was furious to learn that Usopp thought he even needed to prove himself worthy again, even though Luffy had said otherwise. (It later dawned on him it wasn’t strictly Luffy’s approval Usopp wanted, and something inside him had ached terribly.)

Then, suddenly, it was Zoro who was afraid. Fearful of wringing Usopp’s recovering heart dry with more caustic words, ruining him beyond repair. 

And yet, despite everything, Usopp kept clinging, kept putting his hands between the same metaphorical tiger's teeth that had already cut into him so deeply. His content expression and warm touch contradicted the tremble of his body when Zoro unintentionally squeezed him a bit too tight in his arms.

Usopp might have been foolhardy for attempting to domesticate the petulant beast that was Zoro’s heart, but Zoro knew he was just as (if not more) guilty for failing to shut it down. It was too late; the tiger had grown accustomed to being regarded as a lazy house cat, but the hunger was still that of a tiger.

[writtenontheport]

The Haunted Boy and His Ghostly Girlfriend

Pt. 2 (Prologue) (Pt. 1)

Anthony Lockwood x fem Reader

Warnings/Tags: A bit of angst in that being a ghost is probably lonely LOL, Lockwood’s a bit more levelheaded here, purely just setup, SLOW BURN!!!, How do you write romance with ghosts, Lockwood is in love with you, He’s a bit stupid about it really, OH YEAH WAIT I FORGOT TO ADD: Reader is literally a ghost LMAO

Notes: I’M SO SORRY IF THIS PART IS A BIT,,,, DISAPPOINTING,,, I know this part isn’t fluff heavy, but I was struggling so hard figuring out how to make this fluffy like I usually do,,, but most of my fluff is exploring physical touch as a love language and if Lockwood touches the reader here he will literally DIE. That is not metaphorical it will kill him… she is a literal ghost 😭

Summary: Lockwood introduces you to the library, which, in the future will become your regular haunting. He’s also pretty sure he would do about anything for you to smile, which might not be the best thing to say to someone you just met so he doesn’t say it!

Word Count: 1.3k+

Lockwood presses the clamps of the silver-glass case open, taking out your necklace and gently laying it on the cushion of his chair. It sits there, on a plump throw-pillow, glimmering in the dark of the room before you appear. Miasma seeps into his bones with a cold chill, but his heart beats three times faster and his cheeks warm at the sight of you.

(In the future, Lockwood would have trouble separating those feelings during cases after spending so much time around you. It was a bit troublesome, but he’d never complain about it— it wasn’t your fault, after all, that your mere presence in the living world brought about a form of death.)

Disorienting as it was, Lockwood is quick to adapt as always and shoots you a grin oozing with charm. It takes you a moment to relax at the sight of it, lips falling into a small smile as you settle to the floor. The silence is thick, but not uncomfortable, and Lockwood is glad about that. He hopes the quick beating of his heart isn’t audible from where you are, or it would quickly become a very uncomfortable silence.

“Lucy and George are, um, upstairs for now,” He says to break the silence, resting his hands on his hips. “Lucy said something about changing out of work clothes and… well, George could be doing anything from reading to doing yoga in the nude, so no idea what he’s up to.”

You smile cheekily at that; a blinding thing when you glow so brightly in other-light. Lockwood’s sure that even without it, your smile would still outshine the moonlight that drenched you when you’d first met. It made him wonder for the first (of many times) what it would have been like if you’d met when you were alive. He wills the thought out of his head and instead focuses on you now as you are, ghostly and all. Really, he was lucky to have met you in general.

“I have a question, if you don’t mind me asking.” He shakes off his jacket and moves to rest it on the back of the chair, gesturing for you to sit. “Though it might be hard to answer now that I think about it.”

You look amused at the gesture and pick up the throw pillow and necklace to put aside, sitting down. Your eyes scan about the room, widening as you gesture to a book on a nearby table and mime writing with a pen. He picks up on it quickly and whips a pen out from one of the many nooks and crannies of the messy library, picking up an empty notebook George must have left here.

“Brilliant thinking,” He says, beaming. Sliding it over to you from across a small table, he rests his hand on the wood of it and leans on that arm, resting the other hand on his hip. It’s a mindless thing that makes you watch him for a moment longer than usual, but it’s enough to make him feel a bit coy. Something about your eyes leaves him rather helpless, but he’s not complaining.

The pen seems to lag behind as you drag it across the page; just for a second, just enough to make something about it seem wrong. It only makes Lockwood feel rather curious, not at all put off. You put the notebook down on the small table but keep the pen closer as you slide him the open page.

‘Ask away,’ you’d written. Your ghostly hand draws the notebook back as you smile lightly up at Lockwood from where you’re sat. Something about it is so soft that it has him weak, clearing his throat as he tries to remember the question.

“Do you know how long you were there for, at the Thistlebrows’?” He watches your lips purse into a thin line, before you scribble an answer back that you turn for him to see.

‘Not really,’ you’d written, something so distinctly lovable seeping into the way you write, ‘Only that it felt like an eternity before I met Pepper. It was rather lonely before her; I lost track of time.’

That made sense, with what he knew about type threes. Lonely sort of ghost, Lucy once described; George had backed that up with, They wait forever for someone to be able to notice them, of course they would be. Right now though, he sees the glimmer in your eyes dull and the smile on your face flatten. It must have been a terrible afterlife to live alone for so long; it must have been doubly terrible to have the only person who could hear you taken away. The thought wraps its horrid fingers around his heart as he watches you hover the pen over the page as if frozen in time; your eyes focused on Pepper’s name.

Something lurches in his gut, urging him to say something— anything— that might make this better. This is something that will follow him for every day that he knows you, and every single time it will feel like it will be the death of him as much as your gorgeous eyes.

“Pepper was very upset at being sent away, you know?” He says quietly, watching as you turn up to him in surprise. “Her grandparents told us about it, said you were her best friend.”

You drop your eyes back onto the page, a little smile playing at your lips as you write. Lockwood could live off your smile for the rest of his life (and afterlife) if you’d let him, the beauty of it beyond description. It wasn’t strange to feel so proud of making someone smile, right? Especially if said someone was the most beautiful girl dead or alive.

‘Her parents were deathly protective of her, barely let her outside. I was her only friend.’ Lockwood knew tacitly that she was yours too, but chose not to bring it up.

“We could send her letters, if you want?” He suggests, taking long steps over to the chair across. You eye him cautiously, and he finds it a bit (correction: quite a bit) endearing. “We’d give them to her grandparents to send for us, of course. If her parents are that dour, I’d doubt they’d let her read a letter from some random agency housing ghosts.”

With your brows raised and the impression of a smile, you write to him ‘Maybe you aren’t that dull after all.’

He huffs out a laugh and rolls his eyes, leaning deeply into the chair. “I think you’ll find I’m actually quite brilliant.”

He can’t hear it, but your shoulders ruffle in a bit of laughter and he’s struck frozen by your beaming face. Maybe it was simply the effect of a type three, but Lockwood was feeling the exact opposite of ghost-lock; a heart threatening to beat out of his rib cage, and a warmth filling his lungs despite the cold air. Miasma and thick quiet be damned, your presence brought him something warm and comforting in all the ways he could never explain.

Before you could write back whatever clever reply you wanted to, footsteps heavy and full ran down the stairs (echoing through the walls, they were so loud) and startled you both. Lockwood sends you a smile as he raises from the chair.

“Get ready; if that’s George you’re about to be questioned for the next hour at least,” He grimaces playfully. Your smile blooms as the warmth in his chest does, unfurling like other-light and a warm haze in his heart.

(George, who actually can hear you when he holds your source, does proceed to ask you questions for at least an hour that day alone. Lucy, who can hear you just fine, told him off if he said anything a bit too insensitive. Lockwood? Well, he asked so many questions too that Lucy begged him to just learn sign language with you so he could ask them himself. The way his whole face brightened— you were sure it made your dead heart beat.)

A/N: IM SORRYYY,, I know I know,,, I said this part would be more… MORE…. BUT I JUST… UGH… I LOVE writing plot important scenes 🤞🤞🤞🤞 My ass just keeps wanting to establish shit before I head into the next interesting part (LIKE IK,,, ITS KINDA BORING BECAUSE THEYRE JUST HAVING A SMALL CONVERSATION,,,, BUT HEAR ME OUT,,,) I’m all out of lies… I just love writing soft fluff I’m sorry…

Taglist 🏷️: (Please reach out if you want to be added or removed from the taglist)

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[mariaofdoranelle]

URDAD - part 3

Glucose: sticking to you

Fic masterlist

If you were wondering why I wasn’t posting snippets, it’s because this has no plot lol

Warnings: NSFW

Words: 3,2k

Aelin was acting so naturally Rowan could think this was an everyday thing for her.

It kind of was, to be honest. Aelin was just your regular hot girl in her tiniest bikini, reading her Kindle while lying sideways by the pool, in a lounge chair. Everything was perfectly fine, if Aelin ignored the fact that she couldn’t breathe, since she was trying to hide the lower belly pouch her swimwear was outing.

Yesterday’s promises of seeing each other at dinner didn’t happen, since Rowan stayed until late at the hospital for a surgery, assisting the oncologist with some tissue analysis. But now it was Saturday, he was making barbecue, and she had an entire day to work on her seduction plans.

“Do dogs eat raw meat?” Rowan asked from the grill.

Aelin had a joke about her not being the vet, but let it die on the back of her mind. Imogen was the only vet they knew, the traitorous bitch she used to call a best friend. She didn’t deserve to be mentioned on barbecue day.

“Fleetfoot doesn’t,” Aelin replied instead.

“Huh.” Rowan frowned at the dog. “I think she wants some.”

Indeed, Fleetfoot was sitting by Rowan’s foot, her tongue out while she flailed her golden tail. The smooth fucker.

“She’s not asking yet, she’s just being cute to prepare you for when she actually asks for it. Like when a kid does the dishes before asking the parents to go out.”

Rowan opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head, focusing back on the grill. She wanted to ask what he was thinking about, but stayed silent with the possibility of it being something about his own kid.

Aelin was bitter, but it was understandable if Rowan didn’t want to get involved in that fight. Even if his daughter is a two-faced liar who slept with Aelin’s loser boyfriend.

Rowan pointed at her with his chin. “What’re you reading?”

Aelin’s cheeks heated, so she hid her face behind the Kindle. “A book.”

“What book, Aelin?” he asked in a playful tone while sauntering her way.

“Um.” She cleared her throat. “The Knight’s Sword.”

He stopped by her side and raised his eyebrows, looking surprised by her answer. “That sounds nice. Is it action?”

“It does have a lot of action, yes.”

“Are you liking it?” Rowan picked his phone up. “I can’t remember the last time I read something that wasn’t about work.”

“No!” Aelin blurted, her heartbeat racing.

“What?”

“The sword is a metaphor! Not in the whole book, but—“

“A metaphor indeed.” Rowan’s eyebrows went higher than she’d like. “This armor from the cover doesn’t look safe, by the way. The knight’s abs aren’t even covered.”

“Dr. Whitethorn.” She held her chin up, despite the embarrassment. “Do you have something against my half-naked knight or the use of his metaphorical sword?”

“Not at all.” He held both hands up, then sat on the lounge chair next to hers. “So…” he trailed. “Knights, huh? That’s your thing?”

“It’s fun to read, but not my thing.” She leaned back on the chair and bit back a smirk. “I like doctors better.”

“Yeah?” Rowan straightened his posture, his carefully casual expression barely hiding his attentive, eager eyes. “Tell me about it.”

“Why are you so interested in my reading habits, Dr. Whitethorn?”

Rowan’s mouth was ajar as his eyes scanned her exposed body, and—

“ROWIE!” a familiar voice shouted from the side of the house. “ Did you get a dog?”

Aelin froze. As far as she knew, there was just one person in the world who called the ever-so-serious Dr. Whitethorn ‘Rowie’. He muttered something to the sky, then turned to Dr. Moonbeam’s approaching figure, holding a very heavy Fleetfoot like she were a baby.

”This yours?” He wiggled the overjoyed dog in his arms.

Aelin waved. “Mine, actually.”

Fenrys’ face snapped towards her, his mouth opened in surprise for a second before it turned into a smirk. “Look who’s here!” He tilted his head at Rowan. “I didn’t know you were throwing a party.”

The owner of the house pinched the bridge of his nose. “Neither did I.”

After putting Fleetfoot back on the floor, Fenrys handed Rowan two supermarket plastic bags. “I brought salad!”

Aelin burst a laugh into her hand, but Rowan just stood there, looking at his friend as if he couldn’t believe this was real. “Do you call a bunch of packed, unwashed ingredients, a salad?”

“Chop chop, cook boy!” Aelin called, her eyes glued back on her smutty book.

He shrugged. “I can do that.”

“No!” Rowan blurted with a finger up, “You’re not getting anywhere near my kitchen knives.”

Fenrys’ jaw went slack. “I’m literally a surgeon!”

“Good for you,” the unwilling host called on his way back inside the house. “My kitchen isn’t your OR.”

When Rowan was out of view, she relaxed back in the lounge chair, letting her little pouch out. She’d never underestimate again how good it feels to breathe.

Aelin noticed Fenrys’ curious gaze on her, so she squinted her eyes at him and said, “Do you always visit people without letting them know you’re coming?”

What she really wanted to ask him: Do you always crash into other people’s seduction plans? Do you delight in possibly cockblocking your best friend?

“I don’t need to announce myself to the owner of the house,” Fenrys said around an air quote. “Rowan should be glad he has some company that isn’t biopsy samples or Mora, the Microscope.” He narrowed his eyes on her. “And you, apparently. What are you doing here?”

“I’m trying to seduce the owner of the house, “ she hissed through her teeth, arms crossed. “and you’re ruining it.”

“Gods, Aelin.” Fenrys tilted his head in mock confusion, not hiding his smirk. “I didn’t know the rent prices were that bad.”

Aelin shrugged and casually mentioned, ”I became homeless after the person I lived with cheated on me with the person I was going to live with.” She sighed, feigning nonchalance. ”So I announced my body in the Doctors’ notice board and moved in with the one with the biggest pool.”

“What? When was the announcement?” Fenrys glanced at the backyard and threw his hands up. “I demand a review of this decision, my pool is bigger than his!”

“Request denied.” Aelin picked on her nails, trying really hard to not laugh. “Fleetfoot’s already settled, and she doesn’t like the moving fuss.”

Fenrys slowly shook his head. “So you chose the doctor you have to work so hard to seduce it made you gave up on breathing, and not the one who’s been hitting on you for months?” his tone was playful despite his words, Fenrys’ trademark smirk on.

Aelin gasped, and she was ready to defend herself, but was interrupted by a sizzling sound coming from the grill.

Rowan was retrieving the meat and placing it on a tray, his movements sharps as he frowned at the barbecue as if it’d offended him. How in hell did they not see him coming back from the house?

If Fenrys was worried about how much Rowan heard of their conversation, he didn’t show. Instead, he was telling all the juicy gossip about the hospital’s love quadrangle, and how all four of them ended up in HR.

Aelin just stayed there, nodding and asking questions about it, ignoring the fact that Rowan had shut down after listening to that conversation. He only talked with them through noncommittal grunts while answering someone, but the barbecue was delicious, its charred scent filling her senses, and the sun was burning through her UV-protected skin. This was all she needed, not some weird grumpiness of a man who she’d already been clear with about how she felt.

Fleetfoot didn’t mind it, though, as long as Rowan—everyone, actually—kept giving her meat. The dog ate like there was no tomorrow, then napped by Aelin’s foot for a few minutes and jumped in the water.

“Fleetfoot!” she called, hurrying to the edge of the pool. “Come back here right now!”

That stubborn dog purposefully swam away from her.

”It’s fine,” said Rowan, despite his grumpiness today.

Aelin gave him a pointed look. “Your pool is going to be filled with dog hair.”

He waved her off. “The pool guy will come to clean it either way. At least someone’s swimming in the meantime.”

Fenrys grabbed Fleetfoot’s tennis ball and tossed it into the pool. “Go get it, girl!”

When her dog swam to retrieve the ball, as happy as she could be, Aelin’s shoulders dropped in resignation. “Fine,“ she relented, “but I’ll get a towel so she doesn’t wet the rest of the house.”

Aelin had been here for just two days, so she didn’t know where the towels were, but she did know Rowan kept some neatly folded ones in the guest bathroom. She stopped in the hallway, uncertain. Would he be okay with her using expensive-looking towels with the dog? He didn’t exactly give her rules about Fleetfoot—

Before she knew it, Aelin was being pulled by the arm and pressed up against the wall.

Fucking finally, she thought as she took Rowan in, caging her body with both forearms against the wall and hovering over her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he said in a low, authoritative tone.

Forcing out a carefully innocent tone, Aelin asked, “What do you mean?”

Rowan just scanned her half-naked body and cocked his head at her, and right then, something about his forest-green eyes looked dangerously close to combustion.

Aelin bit her lip, toying with the ends of her hair. “Never seen a bikini, Doctor?”

“You and Fenrys seemed awfully close today,” he grunted, changing the subject. “And however long he’s been hitting on you, I’ve wanted you longer.”

“Yeah?” Those words and their gush of air against her skin sent a long shiver through her spine, spreading to her tingling limbs. “Does that mean you’ll fuck me tonight, Doctor?”

He touched their foreheads, his breath ragged. “Are you sure? You know I’m—“

“Shh.” Aelin caressed his cheek with her thumb, their breaths mingling. “We can deal with her,” she said, knowing Rowan was aware she meant his daughter. “And guys my age never touched me like you do,” Aelin whispered, “I don’t think they could.”

Then he grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her. His lips were exploratory as he pried hers open, and Aelin melted into his touch, tangling herself in his arms and letting his tongue do whatever he wanted to.

She was out of breath and out of mind, massaging his tongue with hers and pressing their chests in search of any sort of friction. Aelin wasn’t, in any way, ready for when he broke the kiss.

Rowan was panting, their foreheads joined as he gripped her bare waist with both hands. “I should get rid of Fenrys.”

“Killjoy,” Aelin taunted, breathlessly chuckling against his lips. “He’d love to join.”

His firm touch turned into a pinch on her side. “Let’s see if I can find some good use for that tongue of yours.”

Aelin squealed from the attack, stepping away, and stood taller now that she was distant enough for him to fully look at her body.

Rowan leaned one arm against the wall, looked at her up and down and said in a low, raspy tone, “And if you’re trying to impress me, I like my women better when they’re able to breathe.”

“Noted,” Aelin said, her face heating on the spot as she relaxed her lower belly.

When he left to the backyard again, she went looking for his bedroom. Aelin hadn’t entered it before, but at least she knew where it was. He kept it all in earthy tones, with white walls, dark wood furniture and touches of green. The only bright colors were from his books, and she was almost sure Rowan was the only person to keep literature about bacteria in his room the same way normal people did with fiction books.

The sound of footsteps down the hallway made her sit on the side of his bed, thrusting her chest out and supporting herself with one arm.

“Hello, Doctor,” she purred when he walked in.

Rowan’s eyes darkened, and he strolled her way with powerful, purposeful steps. Instead of leaning in to kiss him, Aelin lied on the bed, luring him to join her.

“You look so pretty all spread out in my bed.”

“Do I?” She toyed with the string of her bikini top, teasing him further with a suggestive grin.

That was enough to make him stop looking and close their distance, kissing her mouth with a lot more hunger than he did before. He was crushing their bodies together, his hands going a lot further than her waist and neck. Aelin was squirming against him, her knees weak and her hips on fire as he played with her lips, kissed her neck, then went back to her mouth again.

Rowan’s hand that was cupping her breast put the bikini top aside for him to lick, nibble, flick his tongue against her breasts.

“Fuck,” Aelin moaned, untying the string of her two-piece and wrapping her legs around him, desperate for any type of friction.

Rowan stumbled away to get his clothes off, but she followed to help him undress. With no small amount of appreciation, she took his t-shirt off and slid her palms against his sculpted torso. Her hands went up, before she slid them further down and yanked his trunks and underwear down at the same time.

“Oh, Doctor,” she breathed with parted lips at the sight of his hard, bulging cock.

Aelin stroked it once, twice, before Rowan took her chin and commanded, “Your turn.”

She took a step back, untied the other string and threw her bikini top on the floor, every one of her moves intentionally provocative. Rowan’s eyes betrayed every thought going through his head as they roamed through her mostly naked body, then stopped on her heavy breasts, his hands going up and down with lazy movements around his cock.

“All of it,” he added.

Aelin turned around, and with her back to him, she bended a lot more than necessary to take out her panties. But before she finished, Rowan picked her up and threw her back on the bed, making her squeal with surprise.

“You brute!” she complained while getting the panties off her ankles. Gods, he didn’t even let her finish the little show.

Rowan was hovering over her, his face unyielding as he grasped her chin and said, “You’re going to sit on my face.”

All of Aelin’s breath left her chest, and now she was nothing but the burning sensation spreading from her hips, taking over her whole body. She flipped them around and sat on him, but not in the way he suggested. Instead, she decided to face the other way, giving her enough leverage to suck him while she did the same to him.

He slapped her ass in approval and mouthed her pussy. Aelin let out a long moan when he first licked her clit, writhing herself against his face. But then she licked the tip of his cock, making him grip her hips harder as she flooded him with sensation as well.

Everything he gave her, she gave back. It was like a game, teasing around each other’s pleasure. Aelin took him deep into her throat, making him hiss and lose his focus on her, then he’d plunge a finger inside her while working on her clit. If it made her stop to moan, or she countered and groaned around his cock, giving him an extra layer of sensation, he’d win either way.

That is, until Rowan added another finger and added extra pressure to her already swollen clit, sending Aelin over the edge. Aelin’s gut tightened and her legs were shaking around his face, all while her vision blurred and she took his cock out of her mouth to moan his name.

She fell like a cartoon by Rowan’s side once her climax was over. “Just give me a second.”

“Any time you want.”

He wrapped his arms around her, taking her lips again and making her taste herself in his mouth. The kiss was warm and long, but Aelin pulled him on top of her before it got too long.

Rowan put a condom on and, hovering above her, took a strand of hair off her face. “Are you sure?”

Aelin grabbed his hair, forcing him to look at her. “For the millionth time, yes. Seriously, what does it take to get fucked around here—“

He thrust into her before she could finish the sentence, turning it into strangled gasps as Rowan stretched her whole.

“You alright over there?” he asked when she was filled all the way in.

Aelin’s breath was ragged, but she still found enough strength to tease him. “You think I can’t take you?”

Rowan’s eyes sparkled, and he started slow and deep, fucking her as if he had the whole day to use her. Probably because he had. It wasn’t her preferred pace, but it was really good. Aelin’s pleasure was slowly building, and she was arching her back to meet him deeper.

“Got yourself settled, baby?”

She hummed, holding back a lazy moan with her eyes closed, savoring the moment.

“Good.”

Then he plunged into her, turning their lazy pace into a hungry, merciless rhythm. Aelin cried out, her nerves on fire while she clutched his back and writhed her hips against his. As if this wasn’t enough, Rowan spread her legs, putting them up in a V-position and changing their angle enough to make her scream.

He was panting on top of her, but still said, “No sass now?”

The closest thing to a response Aelin managed was a string of curses. He was spreading her open in every sense of the word, and she was shamelessly pushing against his thrusts, her legs trembling near her head. Aelin’s muscles were tight, her skin burning and prickling with nothing but lust as she moaned and writhed and screamed his name each plunge.

She felt her peak coming, and Aelin clenched around Rowan’s cock, making him roll his eyes with pleasure and curse. They both lost composure, his hips stuttering as she went still and felt shockwaves gripping her body, moaning and holding onto each other as they were pushed over the edge.

Rowan fell by her side, then held her after disposing the condom.

“You alright?” he asked, searching for every cue in Aelin’s eyes.

“Perfect.” Her face was nothing but post-orgasm bliss. “Do you mind if I take a nap?”

What could she say? Rowan said he’d have his way with her, and he did so bad she was about to pass out in his bed, in the best way possible.

“Please do.”

“Okay.” She closed her eyes and opened them again. “You can wake me up in, like, 10 minutes for round two.”

Rowan chuckled, hugging her closer. “You know I won’t.”

She lifted her head to squint her eyes at him. “I’m serious. If not for sex, I need to wake up so my dog doesn’t starve to death.”

“If I had to come up with possible causes of death for Fleetfoot, starvation is be the last one I’d consider.”

Aelin gasped. “Are you calling me a bad mother?”

“Shh.” Rowan kissed her forehead. “I thought you wanted to sleep.”

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°•T B P CHARACTERS POSSIBLE ZODIAC SIGNS HEADCANONS•°

Author's note : I'm open to discuss different opinions about these ones , since we barely know some characters entire persona or birth chart , I can't even pick one to define them lol . Sorry if the reasons are too lazy or any spelling mistakes , always remember that the sun is important ( the sign that you were born ) but your birth chart is the one that describes your personality ENTIRELY , that being said , enjoy these lazy ass headcanons that I didn't know I started a long time ago .

FINNEY BLAKE

Cancer ♋

Shy , caring , attentive , sensitive and a reserved personality , one that cares about their loved ones more than anything and it's eager to help them whenever they can , intuitive , tendency for the melancholy and loneliness , modest , I think it fits him , besides they're also observant and smart , usually mistaken as " too naive " , but if needed , they can be mean , serious and cold headed if the situation demands it . Second close to the spiritual and / or magic world sign , but they tend to get more negative answers from it than good .

Virgo ♍

Just like the previous one this one is because of his shy and reserved persona , but , the one who has the sign is a very smart , logical and responsable person , a little bit more rational than emotional . Patient yet not so patient . Great at observation . They take responsibility and are determined to finish whatever task they have to whatever costs it has . They can think straight in the worst situations and tend to usually outsmart the moment that they're living .

Escorpio ♏

Emotional , not so social , good with people until they break them down and they explode in a terrifying rage , because they tent to suck all the negative emotions inside them , until that day comes and their true persona comes to the surface , it kinda reminds me to his confident boost in the end of the movie . Scorpio as a sign planet represent the death , the resurrection and the spiritual transformation of someone metaphorically speaking when their old self " dies " after a bad period of their lives and the new one is " born " . Good thing is that the people with this sign know for sure that every change that comes heavy brings experience and calm after the storm .

ROBIN ARELLANO

Aquarius ♒

Independent . Chill yet chaotic people . Either a social butterfly or someone with little friends . Blunt honest . In a negative light they cannot fear being disrespectful or agressive towards people . Loyal friends if so friends had their respect . The type of people that will watch more than 40+ times a movie that they already saw before . Idk he looks like one

Taurus ♉

Practical and firm believers of their ideas , funny with their close ones , only cares about what people say if it doubts their social status / respect , determined , challenging if provoked , in a negative light they can be proud physical fighters , if it was his sign I wouldn't be surprised

Aries ♈

If there's a sign that loves challenges , it's the Aries sign , specially the men or masculine inclined people . Loyalty on friendship are their second names , would not hesitate to throw hands for a friend or loved one , just like it happened on the movie . Fan of adrenaline and the danger . They're not too empathetic with people outside their circle , but the ones inside can see their servitude and attentiveness . Very impulsive .

GWENDOLYN BLAKE

Aries ♈

Now , Aries sign girl's or female inclined people are not so impulsive and seeking of challenges like the previous one but for sure will stay on their ground to defend themselves and others if they think it's unfair and accept one if they think they're capable of finish so challenge . This little girl is energetic , funny , honest and perseverant , I think this sign could fit her like a ring on a finger .

Gemini ♊

Very smart , curious , funny and good at socializing , this sign could be also fitting for her sarcasm and mischievous part , her insistence on finding the real truth of something or someone , better memory than people give them credit for , it ain't too crazy to think about it

Piscis ♓

In a good light , generous , sympathetic , caring , empathetic , teasing and optimistic people with this sign can be , social too , funny , with a fantastic intuition and a special religious and spiritual connection , they handle bad emotions in a really volatile way ,so hey , miss Blake can also be water sign too !

BILLY SHOWALTER

Taurus ♉

Practical and direct people , really stubborn and hate when they ain't being heard or treated with respect , they tend to be bossy at times , cautious , reserved and hard working along with materialistic , they believe that financial safety is a priority on life , i believe he's one because , why else a kid would wake up early to ride all the town if it wasn't for money ? Anyways , here's top 1 zodiac sign for paper boy

Capricorn ♑

Capricorn men tend to be honest , patient , realistic , responsable , mature and modest , they are hard working too , and they likely are more able to get mad when someone ain't listening their advice than rejecting so advice , there's no more reasons, he just looks like one lol

Libra ♎

This boy takes care of his looks and it shows , that's a Libra sign thing to do , they usually are nice but in their rage moment they loose all politeness and calm in them , wich is something that we saw happening on the movie . They're either nice to everyone but reserved or very social and popular , depends if you view him as a quiet or more extrovert one . Anyways , Libra on the 3rd place for this guy !

GRIFFIN STAGG

Virgo ♍

They tend to be shy and reserved , they won't talk unless it's necessary or they're are approached first , with a close one , that shyness goes away and their funny sarcasm and playful nature is on display to those they trust . Smart , responsable and more likely to be the " geeks " or " weirdos " of the class , no one can pass as invisible more than them , so there's a big big possibly in my opinion for the floating kid to be one .

Piscis ♓

Differently from the previous sign that is more on a serious aspect until fully trusting a person , in a bad light of this sign ( because in a good one tend to be really social and loved for their generosity / personality ) they can be really shy and afraid of judgement , but they treat everyone nicely anyway. Smart yet easily distracted , playful yet somehow petty , no surprise if he has this sign

Gemini ♊

Air signs are more rational and overthinking than the other element ones , handle really bad negative emotions and tend to isolate or vent their feelings towards other people ( either verbally or aggressively ) , but the good thing is that those negative emotions usually don't last an hour or maximum a day ( there's the famous stereotype of them being " bipolar " ) , either because they found a solution , someone made them laugh , let it all out , etc . No much to say , I feel like he can be one , that's it .

BRUCE YAMADA

Gemini ♊

The good thing about this sign is that whatever role they want to be they will be , the sassy weirdo , the quiet smart kid , the students president , the popular one , etc . If this sign is combined correctly with other signs on his chart , a popular Gemini guy will be charismatic , playful , flirty , funny , lively and smart if the planets want to as well . Even if they're usually carefree people , they have their moody side or their social battery low somedays , but as long as you invite him to a fun party or place to go , he'll be back to normal in no time !

Sagittarius ♐

Smart yet they prefer to play the lazy / indifferent card if it helps to avoid certain things , this sign is flirtatious , playful and ironic , they love sports and physical activities and will be competitive if the people they care about hype them up enough , they're also the people that secretly wishes to fight but they can't because they don't want a bad reputation on them . Mental hippies , they're really open minded and even if they're usually party goers they enjoy deep talks and quiet activities from time to time . It can be an option too .

Libra ♎

" Innocent " flirts and good care takers of themselves , they tend to be chill people that enjoys socializing and care about they're reputation a lot , categorized as polite fellas , they usually suck the anger and frustration up to put a smile for the crowd , but that's only a facade , because their death stare shows their real emotions behind the cockiness or cool persona , kinda like the moment he gave the nasty glare to Finney for almost win the game , idk he can be .

VANCE HOPPER

Leo ♌

Intense types that stick to their hobby / partner / friends like a cat to a curtain , in the outside he's confident , smartass , tough , independent , individualist , cocky and brave , but in the inside , they're empathetic , caring , insecure , sensitive , loyal , altruist and hope for their close ones to like them and not see his flaws or weaknesses . Fire signs tend to be competitive and in a bad light aggressive , in this case of the sign we are talking , mostly for respect or make sure " they know with who they are messing around " .

Scorpio ♏

In a bad light this sign can be antisocial and had little interest on people , tending to be aggressive or rude to those that come across them , and if they have a bad luck to trigger their pent up rage or do a little mistake on a bad day that ruins something in their eyes , they will encounter a emotional dynamite human that might resort to physical violence to back away the people or push them away . Even in negative turn , these people are loyal and protective to those that try to understand them or not judge them , although they are really not fan of the idea of sharing their worries, deepest thoughts and feelings , even if they are sensitive to everything that happens around them .

Aries ♈

Aries sign men are usually the " badass guy with anger issues that have only a soft spot for certain people " kind of men , they either love sports and physical activities or resort to more visual type of hobbies like video games ( *cough* Or arcade games ) , marathon of movies , series , animations , etc , although if they imply some type of challenge or difficulty to be done or understood the better . Like the previous sign they're not good with handling feelings but it's more obvious for the rest , different from the last one . Care little about other people problems , smart / bad mouths , they tend to be grumpy and are more pron to give a physical warning than a verbal one , usually because their bossy commands weren't listened . This sign has a lot of masculine energy , which uh , combined wrong with other energies might make the person the " I need to fight everything that moves and pisses me off" kind of masculine , and it's not good , but it fits the character .

[goingravager]

okay i am going feral over this. it's 2023 and no one was going to point out to me that the title doesn't translate to Revolutionary Girl Utena wtf

like. i legitimately never noticed. idk how obvious it is if you're a native Japanese speaker, or if it's actually acceptable grammar to put the adjective after the noun and this is just an alternate way to say Revolutionary Girl, but... growing up with so many "Magical Girl X" shows, "Revolutionary Girl Utena" sounded so normal to me that I never looked at the Japanese.

and like, the French subtitle that they throw in there is la fillette révolutionnaire, which does translate to Revolutionary Girl

but, thinking about it, if it really is that, shouldn't it be "Kakumei Shoujo", not "Shoujo Kakumei"...??

so the reason this has me feral: if it's true, it's yet one more bait-and-switch they threw in there, right up front, and it was in plain sight all this time. caution: heavy spoilers for the plot of the show follow.

so like. it's my opinion that the OP, both song and video, of Utena are an extremely clever bait-and-switch. in that they make one kind of sense going into episode 1, and they make a completely different kind of sense once you've finished the show.

like. when you first watched Utena, and you saw the intro, wasn't it basically exactly what you thought the show was going to be like? two girls having a meet cute, there's duelling, fairy tale elements, Utena is badass, and oh no she's going to have to struggle to hold onto Anthy metaphorically because of the Rose Bride thing, which could tear them apart at any time!

it's delicious, it's dramatic, and it's... not what the show ends up being.

but then you watch episode 39 and you realise. the intro is a complete description of the entirety of the show. two girls meet, they have some cute romantic moments early on, there are duels. Utena fights everyone. the castle collapses. they storm the heavens, Utena on her princely white horse of innocence and ignorance, Anthy on her dark horse of... being the dark horse of the plot, lol. Utena cannot be the one to save Anthy, she both metaphorically and physically cannot lift her out of her burdens, and Utena is left alone, curled up on the ground beneath the self-imposed weight of her defeat.

meanwhile, the song. the song!! going into the show cold, "rinbu revolution" seems like a pretty standard song for someone like Utena. but it's not Utena's song at all. it's Anthy's.

Even if I dream, even if I cry, even if I get hurt... ...reality keeps on coming recklessly. I wanna find out where I am, the value of being me. Gonna take who I've been up till now and find the strength to throw it all away. Strip down to nothing at all. Become like a rose petal blowing free! Even if the two of us are ever torn apart l swear that I will change the world.

who, in the plot, finally accepts the reality of her situation? who starts out lacking self-worth and struggles to eventually carve out, with her own hands, the place where she belongs? who heroically finds the strength to throw it all away, stripping herself of her prior role?

not Utena, who up until the very last clings to her "princely" ideals, into which she has placed all her worth and sense of self. in the last episode it's made clear that she hasn't changed the world one bit, nor brought revolution, as the world quite literally forgets her and goes on without her exactly as it was.

except for Anthy. Anthy remembers Utena, the only one who does, even though they are torn apart. she frees herself, changes her own reality by escaping the cycle of abuse to which she had become conditioned. Utena undoubtedly gave her strength and inspiration, but she could not lift Anthy out of her suffering, and believing she could (and had to) was her downfall.

let go of me, Anthy says, as their hands part, to an Utena who firmly believes that she can only make a difference by playing the hero. i'll go my way. the revolution is hers, not Utena's.

which is why, if the title is purposely misleading, it's so damn brilliant. we start out thinking, "of course! Utena is a revolutionary girl! She wears the boy's uniform* and duels, and she'll surely bring the revolution and save Anthy!" but what occurs is simply a "girl revolution", a Shoujo Kakumei, that is completed by Anthy herself.

*(no she doesn't, it's actually a unique uniform design. neither this nor that but a third thing.)

but maybe we can go deeper.

we know that Utena means calyx, while Anthy means flower. a calyx is the tough, protective outer layer of a flower bud, matching Utena's role in relation to Anthy. once a flower blooms fully, the calyx is no longer needed to protect it, and retracts or withers. i'm not a native Japanese speaker, but from what I have studied, it would seem that "Shoujo Kakumei Utena" could be read as "girl-revolution protector". not the one who brings the revolution, but the one who protects/shields the revolution-bringer, who nurtures Anthy while she is vulnerable. then Utena, the calyx, crumples, and Anthy blossoms in her own time.

and i think that's beautiful.

[sleepingdeath-light]

like rabbits ; 18+

requested by ; onehellofashadynerd (kinktober entry)

word count ; 1062

content ; sexually explicit content, breeding kink, unprotected sex, robot character being capable of breeding (suspend your disbelief here lol), overstimulation, slight dumbification kink, slight size kink

fandom ; dark deception

pairing ; lucky the rabbit x cis female reader

read also on ; ao3

note ; please ignore how logically impossible this scenario is, i’m just working with the original request and trying to find something that fits lol

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

Everyone and their mother has heard the old adage ‘at it like rabbits’, as well as the handful of related jokes involving the floppy eared fluff balls and their talent for multiplication, but you’d never really payed it much mind. Not when you were alive and going about your daily habits back in the human realm, not when you stumbled through the portal to Joy Joy Land, and not even when you ended up in an on-again-off-again relationship with your noncommittal robotic lagomorph boyfriend, Lucky.

So really you only had yourself to blame for not noticing all of the (in hindsight embarrassingly obvious) signs that the age old saying was more than just metaphorical. For not realising that all of the times you caught him staring at you randomly and the way he started to get snappier at Hangry and Penny was more than just him being in a grumpier mood than normal. For brushing off all of the not-so-innocent touches and the way he managed to work innuendos about ‘starting a family’ into your every conversation as him just being his usual perverted self with you.

Yeah… looking back you felt more than a bit silly for missing all of that. But at least the consequences for your obliviousness were more ‘play’ than ‘punishment’ (as Lucky was so very fond of handing out usually), so you supposed you could grin and bare it for however long you needed to.

After all, how bad could it be? It was only sex.

—————

Five hours in and you were a complete and utter wreck: body limp and trembling and covered in sweat whilst you absentmindedly dug your nails into the raggedy sheets beneath you, tearing the paper-thin, drenched material to shreds in your hopeless attempt to try and steady yourself; eyelids heavy and barely able to stay open for more than a few brief seconds at a time before fluttering closed once again, the edges damp with tears and crusted over with sleep as you just barely kept yourself awake through the overwhelming stimulation and exhaustion that coursed through your very being; spent pussy and trembling thighs coated with sweat and cum, yours and his, from all of the positions he’d had you in and ruined you in, and from cursory glances down with bleary eyes you could tell that the faux fur of his suit was also absolutely drenched with your juices (completely his own fault for insisting on making you squirt as much as possible a hazy dozen rounds ago, the prick); chest heaving and bruised from all of his misguided attempts to grope you with his unnaturally strong, unnaturally large hands and forgetting how fragile you were in comparison to his robotic frame; lips bruised and bitten bloody, parted in a wet ‘o’ as you moaned and panted and gasped and sobbed with a hoarse, broken voice, barely able to even recall your own name through the fog of overstimulation that had swallowed your mind several hours ago.

And then there was Lucky, blessed with the stamina only an afterlife as a chaser and a robotic body could give, who looked insultingly unaffected by everything he’d done to you. Still more than capable of manhandling your prone body into whatever position he desired. Still more than capable of pounding into your used cunt and filling you to the brim with his seed over and over again to make sure it would stick. Still capable of talking to you and teasing you and praising you and goading you with a voice that only sounded slightly more strained than usual. What an asshole, or that’s what you would have thought had you been capable of thinking anything coherent about anything other than the feeling of his thick metal cock stretching you out and his large soft hands tossing you around like you weighed less than the air you breathed.

Hell you were so far gone that you could barely even register his touch or his voice.

The way he called you his ‘breeding bitch’ in a half-gasp as he bent your legs back and manoeuvred your body into a mating press.

The way he pressed down on your stomach right where your womb would be and talked about seeing you carry your ‘litter’ and how ‘hot’ you’d look all swollen and heavy with his kids, still pounding into you like his life depended on it.

The way he pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach before plunging his dick back into your gushing hole as he remarked on how ‘sexy’ you look when you spread your legs for him. Holding you up by the hips to give him a better angle as he thrusted into you.

The way he chuckled and called you his ‘hood girl’ when you came all over his cock for the umpteenth time, slowing down just enough to make sure you wouldn’t be in too much pain whilst you rode out your climax. He was a sadist, but he didn’t want to push his luck when you couldn’t say your safe word.

The way he groaned when he looked down and saw his own cum leaking out of you alongside yours, sliding over his shaft and dripping down onto the bed to make a growing damp spot just beneath you. And the way that he thrust forward again by just a few centimetres just to watch even more of your combined juices leak out of your spent hole.

For a few seconds after that he paused, giving you ample time to catch your breath and start to come down from your verging-on-painful high and even offering some shred of hope that he was finally about to let you take a break or that he’d escaped his heat-induced-trance. But, alas, that hope was dashed as he looked straight into your eyes and told you that you were gonna be ‘the best mom ever’ once he’s done with you before going straight back into his relentlessly fast, endlessly rough, treatment of your abused pussy.

It was going to be a long night, or maybe even week, for you, and all you could so was sit back and enjoy the ride for however long it lasted and savour the short breaks he’d give you to eat and drink — waiting for him to tire himself out.

Wait… do robots even get tired?

[trudemaethien]

OK I had to do it again because I got a ship I really want to see you give a try if possible:

The Ship: Wolffe/Mereel Words: content, education, combination & absent

this is not really shippy buuuut …lol you’ll see why. srynotsry (i should maybe update my post to say i dont write wolffe ships, like at all hides chaula in my pocket)

“Oh no,” Fox said under his breath, and then louder, “Go home, Mereel, you’re drunk.”

“Am not,” the clone disputed, and to Wolffe’s judgement he didn’t seem that intoxicated, just a bit manic.

Fox sighed and murmured to Wolffe, “This Null just finally figured out it’s okay to like boys. Clone boys, particularly. I’ve been keeping it out of Skirata’s ears, but kark, he makes me so tired.”

“He behaving himself?” Wolffe murmured back.

“Mostly,” Fox shrugged wearily.

“Who’s your friend, Fox?” Mereel said with a leer at Wolffe. Fox opened his mouth to fend off the undesirable advances for Wolffe as he’d done so many times before for his reticent brother, when Wolffe held up a hand to halt him.

“I’m Commander Wolffe,” he introduced himself with his customary dignified reserve, and held out his hand. Fox leaned back and kept his mouth shut.

Mereel took Wolffe’s hand and held onto it instead of just clasping it. “Bet I could make you howl, my good man,” he said provocatively, trying to tug Wolffe towards him. He succeeded in maneuvering the two of them closer, but only because he moved himself.

“I’ve never heard that one before,” Wolffe said with heavy sarcasm, subtly leaning back by straightening his already proper posture to something so rigidly immaculate, he could be the illustrated standard in the regulations.

Mereel smirked anyway. “Well, how about it?” he asked with what he probably thought was a winning smile.

Wolffe cocked his head. “I’m going to assume you weren’t decanted a mannerless cur, and your abysmal knowledge of etiquette is a combination of an absent father, a lack of education, a minimum of discipline, and a complete misunderstanding of the concept of subtlety; and that is a generous assumption on my part. If I were so inclined, I could write you up for several things, soliciting not the least.”

The meaning of the rebuff was penetrating Mereel’s skull in real time, and wide-eyed, he tried to step back, but Wolffe still had him by the hand and now he was the one prolonging the contact.

“I won’t, because I prefer to conduct my own correction in a more direct manner. I gave no indication I would be interested in your intentions, and in fact, if you’d been paying attention, you would have seen indications that I was not. It’s not due to your pick-up approach or technique that I am calling you to task, though those could bear significant improvement, but the fact that I was uninterested and you failed to notice.“

Mereel had dropped his eyes guiltily and stopped actively trying to escape Wolffe’s grasp.

“Furthermore, just because you’ve figured out what gets you going does not make you a Force-blessed gift to mankind, and not everyone is going to fall at your feet just because you smile charmingly.” Wolffe paused a beat, “What will make you a Force-blessed gift to someone or other is not so superficial, and it will take time and self-reflection and honest effort, to determine. No amount of shallow hookups are going to fill the metaphorical hole inside you.”

“Wow.” the pushy Null was still looking at him with wonderment and desire in his eyes. “I am…absurdly turned on by being chewed out.”

Wolffe’s lips thinned.

“—Sir, sorry, sir,” Mereel added with a bit of genuine respect.

“I’m still not interested,” Wolffe said shortly. “In general, in anything sexual or romantic. Glad I could assist you in your kink discovery though, trooper.” His tone was very dry. “Please remove yourself from my presence, now.”

Mereel nodded and beat a hasty exit, and Wolffe called after him, “Try pulling someone who will take you properly in hand!”

“Aww,” Fox cooed, “you’re such a soft touch, Wolffe. I hope you know how much inadvertent innuendo you dropped on that poor kid.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Smack Down 🔒 https://archiveofourown.org/works/51601057

i also owe you a last line or two… *checks notes* —three!! ahahaha it has been waaay too long

…

welp. the wips are going nowhere, so i think ill just post this and put those IOUs back on the list 😅

[roosterbox]

hey! found your blog the other day and i love it<3

do you have any arthut/eames fic recommendations? i rewatched the movie a week ago and can't stop thinking about them

(sorry about the wait!)

First of all, hey there! Hello! Glad you found me, and glad to know you liked Inception. Hard to believe that it’s still drawing so many people in, 14 years on.

Second of all…

Oh baby. Oh man. Not just fic recs, but A/E fic recs? Yesssssssss my time has come.

First, there are a couple of writers whose entire oeuvre you should definitely check out if you haven’t.

Lolahardy, whose Dreamhusbands work is vast and varied, but here are a few of my own favorites (important note: no links because Lola’s fics are currently locked, but they are easily findable if you have an AO3 account, and you should definitely check out all of them, not just the few I mentioned here!):

In Every Universe - the fic that will never die, lol. So many great A/E stories here, but for me, the biggest draw are the other JGL/TH ships contained within. My personal favorite is Forrest/Evelyn, who I almost love even more than A/E at this point. Also, so many tropes and kinks and whatnot. Safe to say, I’m positive you’ll find a lot of different things to enjoy!

Le Mal Du Pays - this one is just lovely. I reread it again for this rec list and boy… still amazing. The chapters set during canon are so good, it’s like watching the movie again, but with the added bonus of actual A/E in the plot, you know?

Love is Strange - A/E by way of Dirty Dancing! I love it when you can enjoy an AU based on a very specific property even without having seen said property. For example, I adore everything about this fic even though I have never watched DD, not even once, lol.

OneWhoSitsWithTurtles, whose A/E work is never anything less than stellar and beautiful, and regularly makes me cry. Also, they have works in other fandoms that are equally worth checking out!

Christmas Without You (Is a Christmas Not Worth Having) - the best. The pinnacle. If ever you (or anyone else, for that matter) were curious about what my favorite A/E fic of all time is? Here’s your answer.

Dream of Me - This one is just beautiful. A simple little somewhat canon-compliant love story. So sugary sweet at times, it runs the risk of being tooth-rotting. But I’m always willing to take that risk.

39 Days to Fall in Love - the survivor AU you didn’t know you were missing. Seriously, it’s so good it might make you want to watch Survivor if you haven’t already, even if you know there’s no Arthur or Eames in it, lol.

Lullaby - Hands down, the saddest A/E fic I have ever read, and certainly in the running for saddest fic period. Seriously, it’s beautiful and worth reading but don’t go in without some tissues.

The Bumblebee and the Flower who Fell in Love - Also very sad, but so very whimsical and sweet besides. A/E works well in seemingly silly setups like this.

And now, for a few more individual recs. Mind you, a lot of my recs are a bit older - I really need to go back and peruse through the ship tag to find new stuff to bookmark - but hey, something something wine metaphors, lol.

End of the Road - this one is so cool. If you like Mad Max Fury Road and ever wondered what it would be like if you combined it with A/E (sort of) and some A/B/O Dynamics, you can’t do better than this.

Quiet Desperation - a lovely little A/E and 00q crossover story! I would read an entire series of this if it existed.

Next Big Thing - A/E as judges on a HGTV reality show. Classic! The exact kind of fairly low stakes drama I can get behind. No spoilers, but my favorite character is Misty Rainbow. For one scene in particular. If you read it, you’ll know exactly which one. Also I wish this show was real.

The Party - heavy subject matter in this one (heed the tags), but getting through the rough stuff makes the eventual fluffier bits almost extra sweet.

Out of Reach - a recent addition to my ranks, but absolutely beautiful. The emotions are so palpable and heartfelt.

And… would it be completely shameless if I included a couple of mine? I don’t like to toot my own horn too much, but since nobody else ever puts me on their reclists, why not, right?

Darling I’m Killed - my somewhat still ongoing Inception/Bond crossover. There are two sequels, and I have no concrete ideas for more yet, but there’s potential.

(I Would Like To) Paint the Way a Bird Sings - the Paint Shop AU that wouldn’t quit, lol. Still can’t believe I actually finished it. Four ships for the price of one in this fic!

Other inception fandom peeps, feel free to reblog and add any fics or authors you like! Especially more recent stuff because I am such a fandom oldtimer, lmao.

Thanks for the ask! I love recommending fics! Also thanks for the follow!

Happy reading!!

❤️