#Dear God I used a lot of characters. Here we go:

[captn-trex]

dear lord roy, this is so fantastic

i have many many many thoughts so I'm putting them below the cut

first of all

"Oh?" Thorn raises an eyebrow, a grin appearing on his face. "What kind of person?" Heaving a sigh, Fox brushes past him. "The kind that matters."

in relation to that.. this moment specifically where he looks in the mirror:

alright now I'm about to rant

I love the way you write Fox so much but it feels like so much more than that. I feel like, fundamentally, the character of fox doesn't really exist. Anything we 'know' about his character is basically all fanon, so in essence you've just created this character who is so BEAUTIFUL and just oh my god so fucking amazing and multi-faceted and who has been taken on this beautiful journey throughout this fic where it's not just him falling in love with someone else, it's him realising that he can feel emotions he didn't think himself capable of, and learning that he's worthy of love and that's just ntgkjvsdbrnj AMAZING

The bruises under his eyes, the gauntness of his cheeks, the paleness of his skin, all reminders of the long nights, and the stress, and the constant strain of his job. But underneath that, is a look of peace, of happiness, that he's never seen before. You make him happy, he realizes. He hadn't known it was possible, but you're the first person who's made him feel like this, who's brought joy to his life. He'd resigned himself to his fate, had decided that happiness wasn't in the cards for him, but now, faced with the possibility of a different future, one with you, he feels hopeful.

like abfhs he thinks that he's just not made to be happy but he comes to realise that it's not true??? that makes me want to cry

and I very much love the reader character throughout this fic. I love "I'm glad you're still here", I love "Do you really think I'd say no", I love "It does mean something" and "It means a lot", I love Fox receiving affection so easily !!! especially because he's so hard on himself all the time, and he puts the needs of everyone else before himself in a way that isn't recognised as heroic, but just necessary - even by him, because it's all under the guise of 'just doing his job' and when he cant keep everyone safe he feels like he's failed. but the reader in this just tells him how it is and wants to make sure he's okay because she knows he wont. i love that shit so much omg

particularly very like this moment too:

It's not just the sex. It's the fact that it's you, that it's your body against his, that he's touching you, holding you. He's wanted this for so long, had convinced himself that it would never happen. But here you are, and you're his, and it's everything he's ever dreamed of.

convincing himself that it wouldn't happen, that he's not deserving of such things nrgisnf it breaks my heart but then the relationship between him and the reader puts it together again

like with this..

"I understand if you don't," he replies. His voice is steady, though his heart is pounding. The thought of you rejecting him is almost unbearable. [...] "Do you really think I'd say no?" His mouth twists, and he glances away, his jaw clenching.

anyway

he's still so paranoid even after everything like goddamn bro is so damaged, which is really interesting to me. [I'm just kinda going off on my own headcanons of your creation now lol] It's maybe because he's always the one taking care of everyone/everything and not receiving any thanks for it. he does long hours and works himself to the bone for the chancellor and he worries to no end about his brothers (like oh my god his inner monologue when Thorn got hurt I was clutching my chest) but because he's the guy in charge, ordering everyone about, he isn't spared the same care. certainly not from palpatine, but i suppose that's not a shock lol. So he's just not used to being given back the care that he gives, so much so that he almost expects rejection because he feels like he'll never have someone match the way he feels or the amount of effort put into something. His reaction to "do you really think I'd say no?" is so heartbreaking to me idkkk like to me it reads as if he's ashamed that he thinks she'd reject him, but he just can't help it because of what he's come to expect from people.

in conclusion, this fic was good as fuck

THANK YOU FOR WRITING IT

Too Sweet

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Pairing: Fox x fem!Reader / Fox x Doctor!Reader

Words: 7,709/26,525

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fluff, strangers to lovers, grumpy/sunshine, Fox is a little anxious/paranoid, and he needs a hug, Fox gets his hug, and a hell of a lot more, smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), handjob, praise kink, quite wholesome as far as smut goes

Summary: Fox has no time for romance. He doesn't even have time for sleep, let alone dates. But when a horrible day at work leads him to you, he suddenly finds himself in danger of reevaluating his priorities.

A/N: We made it! Everything is fine! Everyone is fine!

Fox is exhausted.

The night has been filled with nothing but reports, meetings, and arguments, and the stress of the situation has his nerves frayed. The Senate has been evacuated, and the Chancellor has relocated to a secure location, but the damage is extensive. The majority of the city is still without power, the lower levels in particular are cut off, and the lack of communications is making things even more difficult. The only things the Chancellor and the Council have agreed on is the need for a joint task force to deal with the immediate threat and instituting mandatory blackouts. 

The worst part is that the attack was almost too easy. Fox had been preparing for months, had been working tirelessly to stop a scenario like this from happening, and the fact that his efforts had failed is a hard pill to swallow. It makes him question everything, his abilities, his judgement, and the thought that all his planning, all his preparation, was useless is infuriating.

He rubs his temples, the fatigue hitting him like a punch to the gut. It's late, or early, depending on how he looks at it, and he's been going nonstop for hours. His comm has been ringing off the hook, messages and reports flooding in, and he hasn't had a chance to breathe.

But, despite his exhaustion, his mind is focused on one thing, or rather, one person.

He hasn't heard from you since he left, and the radio silence is driving him crazy. He'd wanted to comm you, to check in, but he'd been too busy, and the lack of contact is worrying. The longer he goes without hearing from you, the more anxious he gets, and by the time his shift is supposed to end, his mind is racing. He can't leave, not with everything going on, but the thought of you, alone, is making him crazy.

He tries to call you, but the comm goes straight to voicemail, and the knot in his chest grows. The lack of news, the not knowing, is the worst part, and the longer he sits there, the more restless he gets. Finally, he decides that he can't wait anymore.

"Stone," Fox calls out as he pushes away from his desk and stands.

"Sir."

"Take over for me."

"Are you going somewhere?" Stone asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes."

“Where are you going?" Thorn asks, his voice filled with concern. 

The other commander is leaning against the door frame, his helmet under his arm. His armor is scratched, and there are bruises under his eyes, but his gaze is sharp, and his stance is steady. Fox had been afraid that his brother would push himself too far, too soon, but the man had insisted on coming back to work, and the Chancellor had allowed it, so there wasn't much Fox could do.

"I need to check on someone," Fox mutters, and he grabs his helmet, pulling it on.

"Who?"

"A friend."

"You don't have friends,” Thorn teases. Fox rolls his eyes.

"A...a person," he amends. The words are out before he can stop himself. It's too soon, far too soon, but it's not like his brothers don’t already suspect. Besides, if things go his way, then they’ll be happy for him. At least, he hopes so.

"Oh?" Thorn raises an eyebrow, a grin appearing on his face. "What kind of person?"

Heaving a sigh, Fox brushes past him.

"The kind that matters."

It doesn't take long for Fox to make it to your apartment.

The city is eerily quiet, the streets deserted, the buildings dark. It’s early morning, the sky just starting to lighten, and the sight is surreal. There are no sounds, no traffic, no speeders, no sirens. Just the silence, and the glow of the sun, and the ash settling on the ground. It's an unsettling feeling, being in the middle of the city without a single person around, and the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

Fox climbs the stairs to your building and knocks on the door, the sound echoing in the silence. Power hasn’t been restored to the area yet, and the lights are off, the curtains drawn. He waits a moment, and then knocks again.

"It's me," he calls. 

He listens, but the only response is the sound of the wind, whistling through the empty streets. 

"Hey," he says, louder this time. "Open the door."

Still nothing.

His heart starts to race, his pulse jumping, and his mouth goes dry. Something's wrong, very, very wrong.

Fox pounds on the door. The noise echoes in the courtyard, and the sound of his fist on the metal is loud, far too loud. The silence is deafening, and his mind conjures a thousand scenarios, each more horrible than the last.

You have to be okay, you have to be. He can't handle the thought of anything happening to you, the idea that he'd been too late, or that he hadn't been able to protect you, is unbearable. If something had happened, if you were gone, he'd never forgive himself.

"Please," he begs. His voice is strained, the desperation bleeding through. The emotion in his tone is startling, even to him, and the realization of how much he cares about you is like a punch to the gut. He'd never cared about anyone like this before, had never let himself get so close. But now, with the threat of losing you looming, he realizes how much he needs you, how much he wants you, how badly he wants to have a chance with you.

Fox closes his eyes, the panic rising, his hands curling into fists.

"Please," he whispers.

There's a soft click, and his eyes snap open.

You're standing there, and you're alive, and Fox nearly collapses.

"Oh, thank the Maker," he breathes.

"Fox," you sigh. You throw yourself into his arms, and he catches you, pulling you close. His armor digs into your skin, but you don't seem to care, clinging to him with a desperation that makes his heart clench. “You came back.”

“I said I would," he reminds you. He presses his head against yours, his helmet bumping against your cheek, and he holds you tighter, his fingers digging into your back. "I'm here. I'm right here."

"I was so worried," you confess, your voice breaking. “My comm was crushed, and the power's out, and—"

"Shh, it's okay," he murmurs. "You're safe now. I've got you."

"Promise?"

"Promise," he breathes. "I'm sorry. I tried to get here sooner, but—"

"No," you protest. You pull back and press your hands to his chest plate, staring up at him. There are tears on your cheeks, and the sight is enough to make him want to break. You wipe them away and give him a small smile. "You don't need to apologize. I know how important your work is. You're here now."

"Yeah."

The two of you stare at each other, the tension stretching between the two of you, and then, suddenly, your hands are on the sides of his helmet, and his are cupping your cheeks, and the next thing he knows, his helmet is on the floor, and his lips are on yours.

The kiss is rough, and messy, and desperate. Your hands are tangled in his hair, your bodies pressed together, and he groans into your mouth, his arms wrapping around you. You taste like salt, and the smell of lavender surrounds him, and he presses closer, the contact making his stomach flutter. He'd never imagined kissing you, had never even considered it, but now, faced with the reality, he can't believe he'd wasted so much time.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into the apartment. He follows blindly, too distracted by the feeling of your lips against his, the sensation of your fingers in his hair. You're walking backwards, leading him, and his hands find their way to your waist. He grips you tightly, his fingers digging into your skin, and the sound you make sends a rush of heat through him.

You bump into your kitchen island, and he pauses, his mouth moving from yours to the skin of your neck. He trails kisses along your jaw, down the side of your throat, his teeth grazing the delicate flesh. You let out a breathy moan, arching into him, and his pulse jumps.

The two of you are frantic, your hands grabbing at each other, your bodies pressing together. You’re lifted onto the counter before he even registers what he's doing, and you let out a breathless laugh, your legs wrapping around his waist. The feeling of you wrapped around him makes him dizzy, every point of contact sending a rush of heat through him. His fingers fumble, and his body shakes, and he lets out a ragged breath, his forehead falling against yours.

"Is this okay?” you ask. Your fingers are tangled in his hair, your lips brushing against his, and the closeness is dizzying. He nods, not trusting his voice, and you grin, tugging gently on his hair.

"Yeah," he manages, his voice hoarse. He’s rewarded with a smile, the warmth of your lips on his cheek, and the gesture is so tender, so affectionate, that it steals his breath.

He's never had this, not with anyone. This connection, this closeness, this intimacy. It's exhilarating, and terrifying, and wonderful, and he can't believe it's real. That you're real. That this is happening.

And the fact that it's you, that the person who's finally broken through his defenses, who's gotten past the walls, is the person he wants most?

“Perfect,” he sighs.

The word is meant for you, but the meaning is universal. Everything is perfect, from the feeling of your fingers in his hair, the warmth of your breath against his skin, the weight of your body against his. The fact that you're in his arms, that he's kissing you, is the best thing he's ever felt.

Fox leans forward and presses a kiss to your jaw, and the gasp you let out is enough to make his stomach twist. "So perfect.”

"You are," you manage.

"No, you," he insists. He trails kisses down your neck, and you shiver, your hands clutching his shoulders. Your skin is soft, and the warmth of it is addicting, and he wants to taste every inch of it. "Sweet girl."

You moan, and the sound makes him smirk.

"That's what I thought," he breathes, his voice low. "You like that, don't you?"

"I like anything you do to me."

"Good," he murmurs, and he leans forward and presses a kiss to the skin above your shirt, his teeth scraping along the delicate flesh. "Because I'm going to do so many things to you."

Your response is cut off by the ringing of his comm, and the two of you freeze. Fox blinks, trying to regain his focus, and he reluctantly pulls back. The look on your face is disappointed, and a little dazed, and the sight makes him feel smug. It's a good look on you, he decides. Especially with him being the one who put it there.

"Hold that thought," he orders. 

You nod, your eyes wide, and he lets go of you, lifting his wrist. He moves away, and he watches out of the corner of his eye as you slide off the counter and make your way to the living room. You wrap a blanket around your shoulders and sink onto the couch, giving him a shy smile.

He smiles back and answers the comm, his eyes fixed on you.

“This better be good,” he snaps, his tone cold. He doesn't look away from you, and you let out a giggle, clearly amused by his demeanor. The sound is infectious, and the corners of his lips twitch, his eyes crinkling.

He gives you a wink, and you blush, burying your face in the blanket.

"Commander.”

"Stone," Fox sighs. He runs a hand over his hair, smoothing the strands you'd mussed, and he takes a breath. He can still feel your lips against his, and the thought of what might have happened, what still could happen, is distracting.

"Sorry, Fox," Stone replies. There's a grin in his voice, and Fox grits his teeth, turning away. “I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No," he snaps, glaring at the floor. "What do you want?"

"Thorn wanted to let you know that we're heading out on patrol. You still wanna join us?"

He glances over at you. You're watching him, the blanket wrapped around your shoulders, and the sight of you, warm and comfortable and waiting for him, is a balm on his frayed nerves. A wave of fatigue washes over him, and he turns away, his shoulders slumping.

"No.”

“No?”

"Are you sure?" Thorn cuts in, amused. "We can come pick you up."

"I said no," Fox snaps.

"Alright," he drawls. "Guess we'll have to manage without our fearless leader."

"I'm not your leader right now," Fox mutters. He can practically hear Thorn's eyes roll. "You don't need me, and I'm taking the rest of the day off."

There's a pause, and he can picture the shocked expressions on his brothers' faces.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I have more important things to do," he mutters. He glances back at you, his heart skipping a beat. The sight of you makes his chest warm, and he swallows, the words sticking in his throat. Finally, he manages, "Don't call me unless the building is on fire, or the Chancellor is dead. And make sure the rest of them know, as well."

“Who are you, and what have you done with our commander?" Thorn demands. Fox rolls his eyes, his lips twitching.

"Just go," he orders. "I'll check in later."

"If you say so," Stone murmurs.

"See you later," Thorn adds. "Say hi to Doc for me."

The line clicks off, and Fox rips off his vambrace and tosses it onto the counter, the other one quickly following. He pulls off his pauldrons, and the kama and belt, his eyes fixed on you. You raise an eyebrow, clearly surprised by his actions, but the surprise on your face quickly changes to delight, your eyes widening, your mouth dropping open.

"Are you—"

"Off duty," Fox confirms. He crosses the room and sits beside you, pulling the blanket over his legs. The exhaustion hits him as soon as he's off his feet, and he groans, leaning his head back against the cushions. He closes his eyes, letting out a breath, and the tension slowly starts to drain from his body.

"Fox?"

"I'm fine," he assures you, trying to disguise the yawn that escapes. You snuggle closer, draping the blanket over his legs, and he wraps an arm around your shoulders, his fingers stroking the soft skin of your arm.

"No, you're not," you murmur. "When's the last time you slept?"

"Uh."

"Nevermind," you sigh. You rest your head on his shoulder, your arm wrapping around his torso. He tenses for a moment, the contact sending a rush of warmth through him, and he relaxes, pulling you closer. "It doesn't matter."

"Mm-hmm."

"I think you should rest."

"Yeah," he agrees, his voice fading. He's exhausted, the night finally catching up with him, and the warmth of the apartment, and the feeling of your body against his, is making him drowsy.

"Fox," you breathe.

"Hm?"

"Come here," you murmur, and you stand, reaching down. You grab his hand, pulling him up, and the two of you make your way down the hall. The apartment is dark, and he can barely see, but he trusts you, and you lead him without hesitation.

You pause in front of a door, and he blinks, his eyes adjusting. There's light spilling into the room from a window, and he can make out the shape of a bed, and the dresser, and the desk. You reach over, fumbling for the switch, and the lamp flickers on, casting a dim glow through the space.

"Is this your room?" he asks. His voice is hoarse, his eyelids heavy, and the fatigue is making his words slur.

You hum an affirmative as you lead him across the room and help him sit on the bed, his knees weak. You kneel and undo his boots, sliding them off his feet, and he watches, his heart skipping a beat The feeling of your fingers against his skin, the gentle way you're handling him, the sight of you, kneeling at his feet, is almost more than he can take.

"There," you say, smiling.

You stand, and he stares up at you, his eyes wide, his breath caught in his chest. You're a vision, an angel, the perfect woman, and the fact that you're even looking at him is a miracle. That you're touching him, taking care of him, is more than he deserves, and the emotion that rushes through him is so strong, so powerful, that his head spins.

"What is it?" you ask, frowning. "Do you need something else?"

"You," he whispers.

"Me?"

"Just...stay with me."

"Okay," you promise, nodding. You lean forward and press a kiss to his forehead. "I'll stay. Just let me change."

"Sure," he sighs, though the thought of waiting is disappointing.

"Don't go anywhere," you tease, giving him a smile. You turn and walk away, crossing the room, and Fox stares after you, a dumbstruck expression on his face. He doesn't look away until the door shuts, blocking his view, and he blinks, trying to clear his mind.

Fox looks around, his eyes falling on the dresser. There's a mirror hanging above it, and his reflection catches his eye, and he frowns. The bruises under his eyes, the gauntness of his cheeks, the paleness of his skin, all reminders of the long nights, and the stress, and the constant strain of his job. But underneath that, is a look of peace, of happiness, that he's never seen before.

You make him happy, he realizes. He hadn't known it was possible, but you're the first person who's made him feel like this, who's brought joy to his life. He'd resigned himself to his fate, had decided that happiness wasn't in the cards for him, but now, faced with the possibility of a different future, one with you, he feels hopeful.

The door opens, and his gaze shifts, his eyes moving to you.

"Hey," you murmur, crossing the room. You've changed into a pair of shorts and a loose t-shirt, and your hair is pulled up, leaving your neck exposed. He swallows, his mouth dry, and you give him a soft smile as you sit on the bed opposite of him.

"Hey," he breathes.

You pull the blankets back and gesture for him to move. He does, sliding into the spot, and you tuck the covers around him, treating him like he's fragile, like he's something to be treasured. It's an unfamiliar feeling, one he's not sure how to deal with, and he blinks, his eyes burning.

"Good?" you ask.

"Yeah," he nods.

There's a brief silence, and then you roll over and turn off the light, plunging the room into darkness. The only light is the faint red of the Coruscant skyline through the curtains, but it's enough. He can just barely make out the curve of your cheek, the shape of your mouth.

"Better?"

"Much," he agrees.

You turn, rolling onto your side, and he does the same, his eyes fixed on yours. Your legs bump together, and the sheets are soft, and the pillow is warm, and he's so, so tired. The comfort is welcome, and the exhaustion is starting to make him dizzy, his eyelids drooping.

"Thank you," Fox whispers.

"Of course," you murmur. You move closer to him, and your arms wrap around his neck. He's pressed against your chest, his head resting on your collarbone, and his hands find their way to your waist, pulling you against him. He wants to say something else, but his mind is fuzzy, and the warmth of your body and the feeling of your fingers in his hair is lulling him to sleep.

"Sleep well, Fox."

Your lips press against his forehead, and the softness of the gesture is his undoing.

He's asleep before you even have a chance to pull back.

Fox wakes up slowly.

The first thing he notices is the softness of the blankets. They're warm and heavy, and the fabric is softer than anything he's ever felt before. His second thought is that the mattress is far too comfortable. It's almost painful how much better it is than his own bed, and he groans. He doesn't want to move, doesn't want to get up. All he wants is to lay there, to drift, to soak up the warmth.

He shifts under the covers and breathes in, and the scent of lavender fills his lungs. His eyes fly open.

It takes a moment for the memories to return. He remembers the explosion, the chaos of the aftermath, the kiss, and then he realizes where he is. The panic hits him like a speeder, and his heart races, the shock waking him up.

He lifts his head, and the sight that greets him is enough to take his breath away.

You're lying next to him, fast asleep, and you look more beautiful than he's ever seen you. Your face is relaxed, your lips slightly parted, and the sunlight spilling through the curtains illuminates your skin. You're pressed against his side, the sheets tangled around your legs, and his arm is draped over your waist, his fingers curled into the hem of your shirt.

He watches you, his pulse slowing. All he wants to do is wrap his arms around you, to hold you close, to bury his face in the curve of your neck.

So he does.

You make a soft noise as he pulls you against his chest, but you don't wake. Instead, you snuggle closer, and the contented sigh you let out is the sweetest thing he's ever heard. He can't stop himself from leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"Fox?"

You blink up at him, reaching up to cup his cheek. He turns his head and presses a kiss to your palm, and you let out a quiet sigh, smiling up at him.

"Sorry," he breathes. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay," you assure him, your fingers tracing the lines of his face. "I'm glad you're still here." 

He leans into the touch, closing his eyes, and the sound that leaves his throat is nearly a purr. You laugh, a quiet, sleepy noise, and he can't help but lean down and capture your lips in a gentle kiss. You hum and press closer, your hands moving to the back of his neck.

"Good morning," he whispers against your mouth.

"Good morning," you reply, and the smile in your voice makes him shiver. "Did you sleep well?"

"Very."

He kisses you again, his tongue brushing against yours, and your grip on him tightens. The two of you continue, his lips moving against yours, his hands cupping your cheeks. It's slow and sweet, and the intimacy of the moment sends a shiver down his spine. His mind is quiet, the stress and fear from the past few days gone, and all he can think about is the feel of your mouth, the taste of your tongue.

"What time is it?" he asks, breaking the kiss.

"Not sure," you murmur. Your hands move to his chest, and the heat of them makes his stomach twist. "Why? Do you have somewhere to be?"

"Nope," he breathes, and he captures your lips in another kiss. He runs his hands up your sides, feeling the curve of your waist, the softness of your skin, and his cock starts to harden, his hips jerking forward. "I've got time."

"Good."

The next kiss is harder, faster, and his tongue slides against yours, your hand trailing lower, lower, lower. Your fingers brush against his abs, tracing the lines of his muscles, and then you're gripping the hem of his shirt, pulling it up. He leans forward and helps you take it off before lips are on yours again, and your hands are wandering, roaming over his body, touching every inch of skin you can reach.

"What are you doing?" he teases.

"Touching," you murmur. He hums as your nails scrape over his stomach, his muscles jumping, and then your hand is trailing lower, over the line of hair that leads down to his waistband.

"Keep going," he orders, his voice hoarse.

Your eyes widen, but you obey, slipping your fingers beneath the fabric. The feeling of your hand wrapping around him makes him groan, his cock twitching. He's fully hard, his tip leaking, and you let out a whimper as you run your hand over him.

"That's—" He cuts himself off with a hiss as you slide your thumb over his tip, spreading the precum over his skin. His head falls forward, his forehead pressing against yours. You're staring up at him, a smirk on your face, and the heat in your eyes is dizzying. "Stars," he groans. "Fuck, that's—"

Your grip tightens, and his hips jerk, the movement involuntary. The noise that leaves his throat is low and desperate, and you let out a breathy laugh, kissing him again. The slide of your lips against his, the stroke of your hand, is addicting, and his eyes drift closed, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

"That's not fair," he mumbles against your lips.

"No?"

"No," he sighs, and the feeling of your mouth moving to his jaw, trailing kisses over his skin, sends a wave of heat through him. "Not when I can't—"

You bite down, and he lets out a strangled moan, his hips bucking. His eyes fly open, his hands digging into your waist, and he presses his head against yours, his breaths coming in gasps.

"You're distracting me."

"I know," you breathe, grinning. "What are you gonna do about it?"

Fox rolls you onto your back and moves between your legs, grabbing your wrists and pushing them up above your head. You let out a breathless laugh, but the amusement on your face quickly turns to shock, and you moan, the sound music to his ears.

"My turn," he murmurs.

He releases his grip and kisses you. His hands move down your sides, his fingers digging into the soft fabric of your shirt, and then he's tugging it off, exposing your breasts. He leans down and presses a kiss to the hollow of your throat before nuzzling against your breasts, his hands squeezing them, his fingers brushing over your nipples.

"So pretty," he whispers.

You whimper, the sound soft and needy, and Fox feels his cock jump. He kisses a path down your chest, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your shorts and tugging them off along with your underwear.

He sits up and looks at you, his eyes roaming over your naked body, taking in every inch. Your chest is flushed, your cheeks pink, and your legs are pressed together, the blush extending down to your thighs. He bites his lip, his eyes flicking back up to yours, and you shiver, squirming under his gaze.

"Look at you," he breathes, and he reaches down, grabbing your ankle. He lifts it and presses a kiss to the arch, and you shiver, the soft skin twitching. His hand runs up your calf, over the curve of your knee, his lips following the same path. He trails kisses over the inside of your thigh, and the closer he gets, the more you squirm, your eyes locked on him.

"You're shaking," he points out, and he smirks, nipping at the delicate flesh. "Do I scare you?"

"N-no," you manage, and he grins, licking a path up the length of your thigh.

"Then why are you so nervous?"

"I—oh!"

His hands grip your thighs and spread them, and you gasp, your head falling back. Fox leans forward and runs his tongue over your slit, his nose bumping against your clit. He does it again, and again, the movements slow and deliberate. Your hands grip his hair, your hips rising off the bed, and the moan that leaves you sends a rush of heat through him.

His hands move under you, lifting your ass off the mattress, and he pulls you against his mouth, his tongue sliding inside of you. The taste of you is better than he'd imagined, the softness of your folds addictive, and he can't stop, his head moving, his mouth sucking at your clit. He keeps going, his tongue teasing the edges of your opening, and the noises you make, the breathless cries, the moans, the gasps, are driving him crazy.

He's lost in the taste of you, the feeling of your body against his. He's never done this before, never had the opportunity, and he's shocked at how much he loves it. The weight of you against his tongue, the slickness of your skin, the way you're shaking, it's all so perfect, and his cock is leaking, his hips grinding against the bed, trying to find some friction.

 He groans and buries his face against you, licking and sucking, his eyes drifting shut. Your grip tightens, the pain almost too much, but the feeling only adds to his arousal. He's never wanted someone so badly, has never been so desperate to please.

"Fox," you sigh.

"So sweet," he whispers. "So good."

He keeps going, his lips moving against your folds, and you squirm, the motion making him hold you tighter. He glances up and sees that your head is thrown back, your eyes closed, and the look of bliss on your face makes him groan.

"Look at me," he orders.

Your eyes fly open, and you stare down at him, panting. He presses a kiss to your clit, and the moan that leaves your lips is low and desperate. Your gaze stays locked on his as he sucks on your folds, his tongue darting out to taste you. Your face is flushed, your cheeks stained with pink, and the look of desperation in your eyes is mesmerizing.

"Please," you whine. "Please, I need—please."

Fox chuckles and pulls away. He sits up and grabs the back of your thighs, pushing your legs apart and pinning them to the bed. Your hands grab at the sheets, the fabric bunched in your fists, and the sight is beautiful.

"You close, sweet girl?"

"Yes," you gasp.

"Need me to fuck you?"

"Please," you beg. "Please, I want—I need—"

"Shhh," he soothes. He lets go of one of your legs and reaches down, trailing a finger over your pussy. You let out a low whine, and he grins, the expression hungry. "Gonna make you feel so good."

"Yes," you gasp. "Yes, please—"

Your words cut off by a moan as he pushes his fingers into your cunt. The feeling of you, wet and hot and tight, makes his head spin. His cock throbs, his hips jerking, and he presses his free hand against his stomach, trying to calm himself. The urge to fuck you is nearly unbearable, but he wants to see you come first.

"Feel good?" he asks.

"Y-yeah."

"Such a good girl," he praises.

His fingers move faster, his thumb rubbing circles over your clit, and your back arches, a desperate moan leaving your lips. You're soaking his hand, and he groans as the wetness drips down his fingers.

"So beautiful," he whispers. "Such a sweet girl."

Your eyes drift shut, and he lets out a displeased growl.

"Open your eyes," he orders.

Your eyes snap open. You look at him, and the trust, the affection in your gaze, is staggering. The intimacy is intense, and the realization of how deeply he cares for you, how much he needs you, hits him like a speeder. It's far too soon, but he can't help it, and the emotions make his heart skip a beat.

"Good girl," he breathes.

"Fuck," you sigh. "I'm close."

"Yeah? Gonna come for me?"

"Y-yes," you gasp. "Yes, please—"

Your mouth falls open, and you let out a low whine, your thighs shaking. The tension in your body is unmistakable, and the thought that he's the one who's brought you to the edge is addicting.

"Come," he orders.

The effect is immediate.

You gasp, and your back arches, and Fox feels the tremors run through you. Your walls clench around his fingers, and your head falls back, a hoarse cry leaving your throat. The sight is so erotic that Fox can't help but stroke himself. He squeezes the base of his cock, and a strangled groan leaves his lips.

"Fuck," he pants. "Fuck, that's—fuck."

He pulls his fingers out of you and brings them to his mouth, sucking on them, moaning as your taste fills his mouth. You're panting, a sheen of sweat covering your body, and the sight of you, spent and satisfied, is almost too much.

"I want you," you murmur, and the hoarseness in your voice is arousing. "Please."

"Yeah," he replies, his voice rough. Fox leans forward and presses a soft kiss to your mouth, and you hum, pleased.

"Need a minute," he confesses, and you nod, giving him a small smile.

"Of course," you breathe. You sit up and grab his shoulders, pulling him down until he's lying next to you. You turn and wrap an arm around his chest, throwing a leg over his hips, and he shivers as your bare skin presses against his.

"You're too much," he grumbles.

"Too much?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because," he mutters.

"Hmm."

You shift, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. Your lips move lower, trailing across his collarbone, and Fox shivers, his cock twitching. The sight of you, naked and sprawled out over his chest, is addicting. He can't resist reaching down and cupping your ass, squeezing the soft flesh. You hum, pleased, and he squeezes again, his fingers digging into your skin.

"That's not helping," he mutters.

"I think it is," you reply.

He can't argue with that.

Your lips press against his skin, and he lets out a sigh. You're tracing his scars, kissing the marks on his chest and shoulders, your fingers running over the pale lines. The sight is entrancing, and he closes his eyes, his breathing growing slow and steady. You keep going, pressing a kiss to every part of his chest. You trace the outline of the scar that runs down his stomach, the mark that stretches from his hip to his knee, and the one that runs along his neck.

You press a kiss to his bicep and squeeze his arm, letting out a hum of approval. "This healed nicely."

"I had a good doctor," he teases.

You snort and press a kiss to his chin, and Fox leans forward and captures your lips, pulling you closer. He rolls onto his side, and his hand runs down your back, tracing the curve of your spine. Your leg is still thrown over his hip, and his cock is pressed against the heat of your core. You shiver and roll your hips, rubbing against him, and he groans, his grip tightening.

"You ready?"

"Yes," you breathe.

"Good."

He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth and hitches your leg up higher, pushing himself between your thighs. You're warm, and the wetness from your cunt is dripping down his length, and the sensation makes him grit his teeth. He takes a moment, letting himself get used to the feeling, and then he's pushing forward, easing his way inside.

"Fox," you sigh.

The sound of his name falling from your lips makes him shiver. You're so wet that he slides in easily, but the heat of you, the tightness, is dizzying. His mind blanks, the sensations threatening to overwhelm him, and all he wants is to be as close to you as possible.

"So good," he breathes. "Fuck, you feel—so good, sweet girl."

He bottoms out, his hips pressing against yours, and he pauses, taking a breath. He can't stop staring at you. Your cheeks are pink, the flush extending down to your breasts. Your eyes are closed, your lips slightly parted, and the way you're squirming against him, trying to pull him closer, is maddening.

"Look at me," he pleads.

You open your eyes, and the expression on your face is so tender, so affectionate, that his breath catches. The heat in his chest burns hotter than before, the emotions rising.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs. "So fucking perfect."

"Thank you," you breathe. "You feel—"

"Yeah?"

"Good," you sigh. You roll your hips, grinding against him, and the movement makes him moan. He thrusts forward, unable to resist, and you let out a gasp. "So good."

"Good," he growls.

His grip tightens, and his hips rock forward, his cock moving inside of you. The feeling is addicting, the slide of his cock into your cunt is better than anything he's ever felt. He wants to be closer, wants to be deeper, wants more, and he thrusts forward, pressing himself as deep inside of you as possible.

"So good," he sighs. "So sweet."

"Don't stop," you beg, and you bury your face in his neck, pressing kisses to his skin.

"Not gonna," he promises.

Fox picks up the pace, and the sounds coming from your lips are almost as satisfying as the feeling of being inside of you. He's never had someone so eager, so responsive. Every time his hips snap against yours, you make a sound, a whimper, a gasp, a moan. Your walls are fluttering around him, and he's lost in the sensation, the closeness, the intimacy of the moment.

It's not just the sex. It's the fact that it's you, that it's your body against his, that he's touching you, holding you. He's wanted this for so long, had convinced himself that it would never happen. But here you are, and you're his, and it's everything he's ever dreamed of.

He presses a kiss to your temple and wraps his arms around you, the position forcing you closer. He can feel every inch of your body, the softness of your skin, the curves and angles. His hips move faster, harder, and your grip on him tightens, your nails digging into his back. The pain is a shock, and he moans, his eyes fluttering shut.

"Fox," you whisper.

"Right here," he assures you.

"More," you beg. "Please."

"Okay," he murmurs. "Anything."

He rolls you onto your back and settles back between your thighs, grabbing one of your legs and hiking it up over his shoulder. He grabs the other and does the same before leaning forward, bracing his hands on either side of your head. The new position has him even deeper, and you gasp, arching up.

"Fuck," he gasps.

"Feels so good," you manage. "So full."

"Yeah?"

"Yes," you sigh.

The new position gives him more control, and he wastes no time. His hips snap forward, his cock sliding into you, and the new angle has his tip brushing against your g-spot. The effect is immediate. Your hands fly to his arms, your nails digging into his skin, and a ragged moan leaves your lips.

"There," you gasp. "Right there."

"Yeah?"

"Please," you beg. "Right there."

He doesn't know how long it lasts. Time slows, and his vision blurs, and all he can focus on is the feeling of you, the sounds that are falling from your lips. The tension in your body grows more intense with each thrust, and the heat inside of him grows hotter.

"Gonna come," you whisper.

"Good girl," he breathes. He kisses you again, and his hips snap forward, the force of his thrusts making the bed shake. You let out a whimper, your head falling back, and Fox kisses the line of your jaw, nipping at the delicate skin.

"Please," you gasp, and the desperation in your tone makes him groan. "I'm so close."

"Me, t-too," he manages. "Can I—"

"Yes," you promise.

"Fuck."

He picks up the pace, reaching down between the two of you. He's dripping with sweat, and his skin is hot, and the feeling of his fingers sliding over his cock is almost unbearable. He presses his thumb against your clit, stroking it in time with his thrusts, and you let out a hoarse cry, your walls clenching around him.

"There," you sigh. "There, there, there—"

You cut off with a sharp cry, and Fox feels the rush of warmth, the flood of slick coating his cock. The sensation is more than he can handle, and he comes with a grunt, his eyes closing as the pleasure hits him. His hips jerk forward, and he buries himself inside of you, pressing himself as deep as he can.

"Fuck," he breathes, and the word is shaky. He's not sure if it's the stress, or the adrenaline, or the emotions, but the feeling is intense, and it leaves him trembling. He slumps forward, his forehead pressed against your chest, and his eyes drift closed, his heartbeat echoing in his ears.

He stays there for a moment, enjoying the feel of you wrapped around him, the warmth of your body, the softness of your skin. Finally, Fox lifts his head and rolls off of you, flopping onto his back. He stares up at the ceiling, his breaths coming in ragged gasps and the sweat cooling on his body. His mind is silent, his body spent, and he can't remember the last time he's felt this satisfied, this calm.

"Fox?"

He turns his head and sees that you're watching him, a hesitant expression on your face. He smiles, and you smile back, the uncertainty leaving.

"Hey."

"Are you okay?" you ask.

"Better than okay," he assures you, grabbing your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. He brings your hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to the back of it, and the flush on your cheeks grows darker. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you nod.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You reach up and cup his cheek. Fox closes his eyes and leans into the touch, humming quietly.

"So," you start, clearing your throat. "What happens now?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." Your voice trails off, and you let out a frustrated noise. Fox opens his eyes and looks at you. You're staring up at the ceiling, a frown on your face.

"I like you," he says, his voice soft. "A lot."

"I like you, as well," you murmur. You turn to look at him, and the hope in your eyes is unmistakable. "I've liked you for a while, actually."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you nod.

"Then I think that's a good start." He licks his lips, his mind racing. "I'd like to continue seeing you. I mean, dating. If you're open to it.

"Oh," you breathe, and you blink up at him. "That's what you want?"

"I understand if you don't," he replies. His voice is steady, though his heart is pounding. The thought of you rejecting him is almost unbearable. "It's a lot. The hours, the job, everything."

"No," you shake your head. "I mean—yes. Yes, I want that. With you."

"Really?"

"Yes," you laugh. You lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek, and Fox feels his heart skip a beat, his stomach flipping. "Do you really think I'd say no?"

His mouth twists, and he glances away, his jaw clenching. "I've never done this before," he confesses. "I've never been...with anyone. Not in a way that meant something."

"It does mean something," you assure him. You reach up and cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over his skin, and he sighs, leaning into the touch. "It means a lot."

"Yeah?"

"Mm-hmm."

Fox reaches over and pulls you against his chest. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, and you settle against him, letting out a soft sigh.

"So," you prompt, "when can I expect a date?"

He huffs out a laugh. "We'll have to sync our calendars."

"Sounds fun," you tease. Your hand trails lower, over his chest and down his stomach, and the sensation sends a shiver through him. You press a kiss to his neck, and he hums, tilting his head to give you better access. "I'll see what I can do."

"Good," he sighs.

"For now," you continue, your fingers trailing down his abs, "I have a question."

"Hm?"

"Are you hungry?"

He laughs, the sound loud and genuine. He reaches up and cups your cheek, and you smile, a bright, beautiful expression. "Starving," he admits.

"Then let's get cleaned up, and I'll make us some breakfast," you decide. You lean forward and press a soft kiss to his lips, and his arms wrap around your waist, holding you against him. He can feel the smile against his mouth, and the sweetness of it, the warmth, makes him sigh.

"You really are the perfect woman," he murmurs.

"And don't you forget it," you warn him. You climb off the bed and reach for his hand. "Let's go."

"I'm going," he assures you. He lets out a breath and slides off the bed. "After you."

"Chivalrous."

"I do my best."

He follows you down the hall, his eyes fixed on the curve of your back, the sway of your hips. The sunlight spilling through the window is illuminating your skin, making it glow, and the sight is stunning. The fact that you're his is almost unbelievable, and his head is spinning, the realization of what he's done finally hitting him.

Fox knows that his life will be a long series of bad days. He's aware that the work will be grueling, the stress will be unbearable, and the pressure will be almost suffocating. But now, looking at you, knowing that you'll be waiting for him when he gets home, he realizes that he doesn't care. As long as you're there, he'll be fine.

And he'll fight like hell to keep it that way.

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[makerofmadness]

aight I seem to inevitably end up posting incorrect quotes for like everything I get into. So.

this time I'm shaking things up by making it specifically "Spooky's characters as famous tumblr posts" (uh and I. Looked up websites that just like compiled famous tumblr posts via screenshots so if you're wondering why some of them have usernames censored and others don't Look idk that's just how they wefd)

I have no idea if half of these even actually Fit I just thought this would be funny uh Spooky's fandom tell me what ya think I just got here pretty much dnndndndnd

Probably could've been funnier but idk.

Oh yeah and the last ones (which I have variations on, so I saved them for the end):

Aight there we go.

[isalisewrites]

A Deep Dive into JKR's Terrible, Amateur Writing - Part One

Welcome to my new series, where I will prove to you, dear reader, that J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series and resident Twitter TERF, is actually a very, very poor writer.

And when I say 'poor writer,' I'm talking about her prose, her sentence structure, and her scenes. I am not going to discuss anything about the HP world nor the plots of the books.

This is all about the nitty gritty in the craft of writing itself.

Disclaimer for all readers: I'm going to sound very confident in my posts. I'm going to be working under the assumption that I'm a better writer than JKR. Because I am. My apologies if this rubs you the wrong way. You're just witnessing two and half decades of experience with the intensity from a neurodivergent who is hyperfocused on her special interest. I didn't just learn how to create stories; I learned the craft of writing to a minutia of details.

After years of being beaten down by others, I will no longer tolerate that.

I will be using my writing to compare with hers to make some of my points. Some of what I say in these posts could be considered stylistic choices. However, in my humble opinion, most of this is a difference of skill, which can be learned. Yes, everything I'm going to teach and cover in this series can be learned. There's no 'talent' here. You can learn how to become a better writer right here and now. You only have to understand the craft of writing and sentence structure to better improve your prose and scenes.

I don't have fame and money.

I don't need them to teach you how to write better than JKR.

You're free to disagree with my stances about this and about everything I cover, of course. But if you're a writer, you might gain some insight from this post and I sincerely hope you are enriched by my efforts in this. I spent quite a few hours on this post. Helping others become a better writer than JKR is one of the greatest contributions I can give to society.

Thus, take what resonates and leave what doesn't.

I have stated before: JKR's writing is bloated in the wrong places, underwritten in others, and the prose is poor. These problems show up in all of her HP books.

Buckle up, my writing friends. Grab a snack. Hydrate. Let's begin.

Class is in session.

In this post, we're going to dissect a page from HP4.

There's so much wrong with this page and the three pages of this scene overall. So much to go over. Bullet points I'll cover from this page:

Disconnected Dialogue Lines

The Great Sin of Adverbs

Too much fucking dialogue!

Wrong focus altogether in this scene

Out of POV writing

First point. This is a huge ongoing issue I see in all of the HP books. There are a lot of disconnected dialogue lines, which become confusing over time. This could be an issue of the publisher, but it's still a problem. In the middle of this page, we have:

Sirius hesitated. "I've been hearing some very strange things," he said slowly.

Wait, wait, wait. Who said this? Listen, I know. I know it's Sirius. However, this is an improper placement on the page and can become confusing because Harry also goes by he/him pronouns and he's also in this scene. While the dialogue here suggests Sirius is talking, it could easily be misinterpreted if there were other characters or if he said something that Harry could've just as easily said.

To make this dialogue more clear for the reader, it should go as follows:

Sirius hesitated. "I've been hearing some very strange things," he said slowly.

Second point. JKR is an adverb sinner, a criminal. Jail. "Do not pass go; do not collect $200." Arrest her for these blatant crimes, please, for the love of god.

Look, I love adverbs. They're great. Don't fucking listen to anyone who outright demonizes them (including your huffy, uppity literature professors). Adverbs are the seasonings of writing. You season your food; you also need to season your writing when the case asks for it.

However...

Adverbs should always be used sparingly when connected to dialogue tags. The setting in this scene is: Harry is in the Gryffindor Common Room at night crouched in front of the fireplace where Sirius is in the fire in a floo call. I read through the whole scene, though I've only shown one page here.

Harry says a line of dialogue 'slowly' three times and Sirius says a line of dialogue 'slowly' two times.

The same adverb 'slowly' is used FIVE FUCKING TIMES IN THREE PAGES.

I want to scream, not gonna lie here. Set this adverb on fire!

What does this adverb do for us in this conversation? What is so important that we have to be told that five lines of dialogue were said slowly? What do they contribute? Spoiler alert: nothing. What are their facial expressions? Harry is 14. He's exhausted since it's well after 1am or so and he's burdened with the new knowledge of dragons for the first task. He's kneeling in front of a very hot fireplace. There's fire fumes and smoke, potentially. Is he fidgeting? Is he yawning? Rubbing his eyes? Bouncing a leg? Is he picking at the carpet or rug?

Harry is a tired, burdened child.

Show me this!

Now I'm not saying that you can't use adverbs in your dialogue tags. There's a huge difference between "he said softly" and "he whispered." It's about balancing the moment when an adverb says just enough versus an adverb replacing well needed scene enrichment. Let's compare this with a section from my HP time travel fanfiction, Terrible, But Great, Chapter Thirty.

Dumbledore nodded at Monty, pocketing his wand. “Mr. Potter.” “Lo, Professor,” said Monty, pout gone, but still a watchful light in his gaze. “Is there a problem?” asked Dumbledore in a mild tone. Ice slipped in between Tom’s ribs, piercing his flesh. Monty tilted his head. “No, sir.” Oh, but Tom knew better. He could see through that innocent facade. The man could’ve been a Slytherin for how much he was cataloguing every little detail, from Tom’s appearance, to the content of the selected books, and to the supplies of ink, quill, and parchment scattered on the surface of the table. Tom masked the raw, whirling feelings in his chest with a well practiced blank, emotionless expression. He willed himself to hide.  “Nothing at all, sir,” said Tom lightly. “Young Mr. Potter was regaling me about his friendship with Miss Malfoy.” Monty glanced at Tom, brows furrowing. Those blue eyes were piercing, filled with suspicion. “Was he now?” Dumbledore said; though his tone was still without direct accusation, Tom could hear the hint of it. “Then, may I ask, why a silencing charm was necessary for such a benign conversation?” Tom wet his lips. His throat was dry. “I thought it wise to avoid disturbing others in the library.” “I am awfully loud,” said Monty with a sage nod. “Ah. A noble intent. However, it is not an appropriate use of magic in the library,” said Dumbledore, his gaze firm as it bore down on Tom. “Ten points from Slytherin. I think it’d be wise to take your studies to your common room, Mr. Riddle.” “Yes, sir,” whispered Tom.

I only used "said Tom lightly" once in this section to show Tom attempting to be unaffected by Dumbledore's interference. I did not dialogue dump information in giant chunks. I did utilized actions tags versus adverbs, like Monty tilting his head or Tom licking his lips. I suspect that if JKR had written this scene, she'd have used lines like:

"No, sir," said Monty curiously.

or

"I thought it wise to avoid disturbing others in the library," said Tom nervously.

The adverbs that JKR's uses add nothing to her scenes. They're just thrown into them without a thought. Did she even reread this scene after she wrote it? I cringe in agony if I use an uncommon word more than three or four times in an entire 4,000 to 7,000 word chapter, let alone the same adverb five times in three pages. Good grief.

There are two other adverbs used in this page, hastily and bitterly. Hastily does nothing for the scene and is connected to another issue, but I'll go over that in the end. However, bitterly is one of the adverbs I'd keep. It gives us a glimpse into Harry's feelings here. We need more of this, but we got nothing.

Thus, the overuse of adverbs in JKR's dialogue detracts and steals so much from the scene.

Third point: there's too much dialogue and no description whatsoever. Again, the adverbs are a pathetic attempt to give us something, but they're thrown in there without a damn forethought. We're missing the crackle of the fire and the smell of it. We're missing Sirius' facial expressions. We're missing Harry moving around on the floor, fidgeting, yawning, rubbing his eyes, feeling the heat of the fire, bouncing his legs, picking at the rug, something, anything, etc.

The dialogue is bloated with a terribly boring conversation. It's just endless dialogue with nothing else. No, it's awful. Welcome to the fourth bullet point. This scene focuses on the entirely wrong point. This scene is 100% a plot device and it's terribly done as well. It's three pages about Karkaroff being a Death Eater--oh no he might be trying to kill you, Harry, aaaaaa--and something about Bertha Jorkins being near Voldemort's last location. Meh. Who cares. Somebody has been trying to kill Harry in every book thus far. This isn't a new development, sweetie.

We been done know this, okay? Come on.

This is a stilted, unnatural conversation between Harry and Sirius. It's not realistic. It's not normal. Telling Harry about the Karkaroff's past is boring and does nothing for him. One line, maybe two, for Sirius to say, "Hey, keep an eye out for Karkaroff. He's an old Death Eater." Done. End of Karkaroff information. And cut Bertha Jorkins out altogether. I'm sorry, but why the hell are we talking about a dead woman to a 14 year old kid whose biggest problem at the moment is dealing with a jealous friend, school ostracization, and a giant fire breathing lizard???

These points are important to the plot, but they're not important to Harry.

The plot isn't important. No, it's not.

Harry is the POV character.

Harry is the single most important aspect in every scene and should be treated as such.

The plot should weave around Harry, slowly revealing itself to both Harry and the reader. Harry should not be the weaver of the plot. He should not be used in plot devices.

Do you know what part of the conversation was summarized in the prose between Harry and Sirius in a single paragraph versus the three pages about Karkaroff?

Harry talking about how no one believes him about not putting his name in the Goblet of Fire. About the school hating him. About Ron, about his betrayal and his jealousy. About Rita Skeeter. About seeing the dragons as the first task. These are all important to Harry. These all are causing pain to Harry's heart right now. Somebody give this child a hug, please.

We missed out on exploring Harry's feelings here. The author skips the MOST important part of the conversation, what could've been a deeply emotional, either positive or negative, conversation between Harry and Sirius.

Oh, this scene could've been so good. It could've been amazing. There are so many paths that could've been explored here, too.

We could've had a callous Sirius, who doesn't notice Harry's state of being, and just goes on and on about nothing of importance where Harry clams up. Or we've could've had a comforting Sirius, who attempts to give Harry some actual advice about his friendship with Ron. We could've seen Harry opening up in his body language, connecting with this parental figure in his life. We could've heard a story of Sirius' time as a kid at school with Harry's father and the marauders.

We were robbed of an important moment between Harry and Sirius.

Instead, the author puts the focus on the red herring 'foreshadowing' of Karkaroff. What a waste. She's trying to put suspicion on him, rather than Moody/Barty Crouch Jr., the real Death Eater in disguise. Again, who cares. It's not about them. It's about Harry and how his experiences are affecting him. It's about how he reacts to them.

This scene is a waste of time and paper. It's empty of emotion and movement/flow. It's just there for a set up and it's glaringly obvious during a second read of the book.

When I say, "The writing is bloated and underwritten at the same time." this is what I mean. We're focusing on the wrong things here.

Fifth point. JKR breaks the POV character with the following line:

"--and reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman's article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm," Sirius said hastily, seeing Harry about to speak, "but...

Harry is the POV character. Sirius 'seeing Harry about to speak' should NOT be occurring in the prose whatsoever. To fix this with the bare minimum of effort for this poorly written dialogue line:

"--and reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman's article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts--" Harry opened his mouth to interject, but Sirius said hastily, "Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm, but..."

I wouldn't write these lines like this, by the way. I just don't want to rewrite this. It's a poor paragraph overall, but this is an example of returning the POV back to Harry. Sirius isn't 'seeing' anything anymore. Harry is doing an action and Sirius reacts to his action.

Breaking POV is a rule that can be occasionally broken, but should be done so with intent and purpose. I'm pretty confident when I say that JKR probably had no idea that this was a mistake on her part in the prose.

All right then.

We have come to an end of Part One in this series. We have dissected a single page and a single scene in JKR's Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. The page in question is 333 should you wish to look it up and study the scene yourself.

More to follow because I have lots of pages to go over. This will definitely be series, ah dear.

And so, please do the world the greatest of favors and write better than J.K. Rowling. I promise, it's not that hard once you see the differences.

Until next time.

Isa

[goth-mami-writer]

POV: You're the quiet intern just trying to make it down these steps⬇️

@short-honey-badger who helped me cough this up a few months ago, and we had a lotttt of fun.

⚠️(absolutely not my art. The artist is @yunonoai on TWT. Thx!)⚠️

《 Your director told you to use the back stairwell after the day was finished with final takes in filming. You were the new intern on set and still learning everyone's roles and names, but you knew the cast well. After grabbing your coffee and bag, then being told by the director to use the back stairwell due to some work being done on the front entrance, your stomach churned.

That's where the cast took their smoke breaks between sets and most of them....didn't know you. You were the newbie, and you saw how some of them looked at you in-between filming takes. All of them towered above even the director sometimes, and intimidating just wasn't the word. Some were very cordial. Or at least friendly. But for others... that just wasn't the case. They were almost entirely like their fictional character. Smug and coarse in interaction.

You took a deep breath and opened the door to the back stairwell. The first thing to hit you was the smell of deep, musky cigarette. It almost gagged you because half of them were avid smokers, often being late to set times from hurrying back from their smoke breaks. The heat from the outside lot met you then, and you squinted your eyes from the bright light that illuminated your descent. But you realized now that it wasn't just a few of them here.

It was all of them.

The villains, the noble protagonists. The anti heroes.

Oh, God. Everyone was here.

"Heyy.." The half of them called out in unison while the others only gave a you side glance from their unenthused expressions.

All of their legs were folded across the concrete steps, making it difficult for you to navigate your way down safely. You swallowed hard and decided to speak up for those who might have not realized you were needing through.

"Uhm, excuse me. Sorry." You said with your hands clutched on the strap of your bag.

Nanami, the upstanding gentleman of the group, was the first to stand. He was sitting right at the front, that being your only sigh of relief. He was one of the oldest, and his presence on set always made everyone feel safe. He was especially kind to women.

"Here, dear, I'll help you through." Nanami said with a charming smile as he dubbed out his cigarette into the concrete. He told everyone to mind their legs, and only half of them listened.

"Oh, come the fuck on, she'll be fine." Remarked Toji, the boisterous asshole who spoke his mind with a sneer no matter who was listening. He rolled his eyes and moved his knees from your path. Nanami held his hands on your shoulders as you began down and you tried not to look at each of them but it was so hard. All of them were so endearingly attractive in their own specific ways.

Sure Toji was snide and downright rude as hell but his cocky grin made all of the girls' knees shake. It leveled everything about his asshole personality.

To your immediate left, was Geto, the quiet protagonist in the show who nudged the man to his side Gojo, who moved his blindfold up, moving out of your way accordingly with a smile.

Gojo turned his head down the stairs and everyone seemed to pay attention when his very telling blue eyes came from beneath his dark blindfold,

"Guys, let the intern through."

"Eat a dick, Satoru." Toji remarked from across the steps.

Everything was going fine. You were about halfway down now with Nanami's hands holding your shoulders protectively until you finally passed Toji by who began to loudly exclaim from behind you once his eyes fell low as you passed him by,

"Goddamn! She can walk past me anyday!"

You felt a very intentional smack to the back of your ass only to be returned by Nanami who you could hear reprimanding the eager man with a vicious grip to his collar before apologizing to you in your ear,

"I am so sorry."

"It's okay." You said with your face painted a blinding shade of red, and you looked down, just hoping to make it down the rest of these steps without being humiliated further.

Gojo and Geto had a little more class, only sharing a menacing look to each other at the sight of your ass so close as you passed and now you were finally closer to the bottom flight of stairs, still being led by Nanami.

Here at the bottom held two of the more unsavory characters that included Sukuna and Choso, two villains, however powerful and / or likable they were. Choso, the quieter one of the pair, only moved his outstretched legs, not giving a word in your direction before looking back down to his phone. His eyes were so catching and dark that you wished he would've kept your gaze. But that stare was only broken as you passed by the last loiterer there on the stairs, Sukuna.

He grew a cunning, mischievous smile and asked you with his voice that purred so seductively like a flirt no matter what he was saying,

"Hm, I've never caught your name on set?"

You told him your name and he hummed with a sultry, entertained rumble in his throat as he reached out to touch your blouse in a clear pass until he was stopped by Nanami, who was determined to not let you get touched twice.

"Hands to yourself, old man." Nanami grumbled before rubbing your shoulder as you reached the lower flight now. He asked if you'd like to be walked to your car as well, but you assured him it was fine, thanking him for being so kind.

"We'll see ya tomorrow!" Toji called down with his eyes narrowed in a haughty expression from his seat above, and you shivered hearing that.

"I promise we'll be more behaved if you take this way tomorrow! Have a good night!" Nanami promised as he made his way back up to the very first step, and you hurried now to your car. Your face was red, your arms were trembling, and your blood raced.

You weren't embarrassed or humiliated at all. Instead, it was closer to exhilaration to be so close to them in a cramped space like that. And it certainly didn't help that no one minded their manners. It only made you want it more. You fanned yourself and hoped that the front entrance that you usually took to get to the parking lot never got fixed.

[ghostiguro]

CAT BOY YEEHAW!!!

i fucking love his design, it's so cool & swag, i hope you agree. 👉👈

OK so allow me to ramble:

Two tails, because I think that's cool af & I love when animal deity's have like extra eyes, tails, horns, wings, etc.

Choker w/ a lil chain detail; although I think he would more likely hate it cuz after being chained for 1000+ years, would you really wanna wear more chains?? HOWEVER, counterpoint, it looks sick af. I rest my case, your honour.

Cold shoulder sleeved shirt cuz, again, it looks sick af.

WEAPONS: so obviously, the God of Death NEEDS a scythe. However, I used to have a character who had a weapon that was basically two mini scythes chained together; I recently learned that this weapon has a name!! It's called a kusarigama (more specifically, a dual kusarigama), & it looks cool, I like it. I like the idea that he can basically summon his weapons from his blood (practical? not really. cool? yes.), so he can switch between the scythe & kusarigama no prob. Side note, if we applied the rules of Avatar: Last Airbender, he would be a water-bender; more specifically, a blood-bender. Cuz OF COURSE he would be, don't argue, council has spoken. (NOTE: I know they're technically sickles, not mini scythes, but I don't care enough to go back & edit it for the 100th time.)

I think his combat-style would be more stealth & agility, as well as magic. I don't think he would be the most physically strong of the bishops (that spot is reserved for dear Heket >:3).

When first indoctrinated (post-battle), I imagine he would have a hard time with things like fine motor skills, walking, etc. cuz he hasn't really used his limbs for over a thousand years now. I also think even after he's kind of recovered, he'd still have chronic joint pain & issues like that. On top of that, I imagine for awhile he would experience some degree of hallucinations & nightmares, as prolonged isolation & solitary confinement can leave a lot of cognitive & psychological damage. In his god form, he wouldn't be as affected by it, but after being knocked down into a more mortal form, the effects of it would grab him by the throat & throttle him around like a ragdoll.

I'm absolutely projecting here... bro has gotta have hella abandonment & trust issues. Is being betrayed & locked away in the afterlife by your own family not the ultimate form of abandonment?? i cast mental illness on him, case closed.

The breed of cat I based him off of is a maine coon; a) fluffy cat :3, b) LARGE fluffy cat. He is indeed a large cat so it makes sense to me. :P

Ok ramble done for now, pls enjoy. UwU

[sgiandubh]

News from Birmingham, part 3: verbatim

Verbatim means 'word for word' in Latin and it is often used in French to convey the idea something is being reported exactly as it actually happened.

Absolutely not sorry for the length, nor for the lost night spent on it.

So, here go the juiciest parts using the recording I am (for those joining in later) NOT allowed to post as is. Selection is mine and mine solely - editorial line and all the rest. Once I am done, I shall add my comments. It was hard for the girls to focus on what was being said on stage and write to me in DMs, at the same time. Recording everything was a risk, but also genius. The bits I am going to post are taken exactly as I heard them:

✔️on Blonde Bambino (yes, she elaborated and I had no idea when reporting live by proxy): '(...) and it's just amazing, he's the sweetest, sweetest thing and he looooves music. And, I feel like I succeeded being a mother purely because the other day he asked me if he could invite Kate Bush to his birthday'.

✔️on borrowed things from set: she regrets not having taken some things she liked from previous seasons. 'It's been a long time since I've borrowed anything (...). Terry gave me two nightgowns made in Season 1, she gave me one that was never used. And then she promised me a lot of things (...).' Wanted to 'borrow' something from her own surgery.

✔️on her involvement with the Blankfaces fashion label-cum- homeless charity in GLA: 'oh, that is Gerry who runs that, he is a friend of my husband's and he is just this amazing person who does grassroots organizing, you know, Blankfaces he's been doing for a long time. And I just met Gerry, you know, socially, and then I thought what he was doing was amazing, and I also found the clothes amazing and so I just bought them.' Further explains what Blankfaces does, the shop, the stories, including the food kitchen, but denies a more active involvement with the project/brand. 'I was just the other day at Hozier (...),he is amazing [cooing, booing] and I'm just paraphrasing from Andrew, and Andrew said this amazing thing, which was how we all want to be part of big things, right, you know to be a part of those things that would change the world, and all of that, but it's actually the small little things you do every single day, in your community, that have the biggest impact. (...) But you can buy their stuff online.'

✔️on producing a future movie based on Book Ten: 'I would not be in those competitions with Starz.'

✔️on her resemblance with Claire (oh dear God, not that question again!): 'As a kid, I was definitely not obedient, definitely not quiet and definitely not tidy, but as an adult, I ended up being more organized than I've ever thought I would be in my life (...) shocking (...). The world has changed crazy, (...) I used to talk to people and have opinions on things, but now it feels like a cesspool (...). I miss that space for conversation.'

✔️on 'Erself and the end of Outlander: 'well Diana came to visit, I actually don't know when it was, not that long ago, she came on set, sheeee... ugh, you'd have to forgive me, it was last season, it was so long ago, I can't remember what is what and I have to remember if she wrote something last season (...). Diana, she's created this world (...), she watches everything (...). But she's also allowed us to sort of make her characters our own and she's given us her blessing to do that, which has been amazing. And she still won't tell us the ending. [Voice in public: Sam knows!] Sammy... Sam THINKS he knows.'

✔️on the public impact of OL's Season 1 and sudden fame: 'I got this job so last minute, I was living in the US and I knew it was a US series that we're gonna be filming in the UK. And I read the first book so I was like, OMG sounds like an amazing show to film. But then I went from being cast to being in Scotland in one week. And then you're just like, you're working for 85, 90 hours a week. I didn't know who I was, where I was, what was going on. (...) and we went to Comic Con (...), I mean that whole year was a blur, an amazing blur, but a blur.' Had no expectations about what the show would become, it's now broadcast in 87 countries, 'it's insane, it's amazing'. Being able to be successful after 10 years is 'amazing'.

✔️on what she will miss most about Scotland or is she planning to stay in Scotland after OL is over: 'that's the million dollars question, I don't know. I mean, I think I'll... my husband is Scottish, so I think we'll always have something there, his parents both live there, so you know, we're not never going to be there at some point, but I don't know what is gonna happen after, but I am very, I feel, yeah, I feel like it's gonna be so sad not to... you know for 11 years, no matter like if we're gonna back in the United States or to London for a while we've always known we'd be back to Scotland at some point and be there for 10 or 11 months and so now I don't know, I don't know what the future holds, so....'

✔️on her and Tony sharing the same musical tastes: ' do Sam and I share the same music [Steve immediately BARKS: 'no, Tony, your real husband!'] Tony? Yes. Sam - no.'

✔️Sam's whisky or Graham's bourbon? 'Sam's whisky. I haven't tasted the bourbon, but bourbon is too sweet'.

✔️speaking about Steve - 'he's so mean'. In jest (?).

✔️her favorite part of making her own gin: 'tasting (...), trusting your senses'. The distillery changed, from the first to the second batch - the product's taste changed, a learning curve. They wanted to make sure it's still the same product.

✔️on regretting she did not start acting ten years earlier - mentioned not being ready for the responsibility of shooting 14, 16 hours a day, no sick days, etc: 'it's like a beast'. She felt OL came at the right time, was 'prepared and ready to be there' and eager to be given 'a shot (...): whatever you throw at me, I'll do it'. 'And I think for Sam was the same.'

✔️on memorable OL sets/places: Craigh Na Dun stones. 'The new place where we are, really cool. (....) Amazing stately homes like Hopetoun'. It's 'amazing.'

✔️on another parts in movies - she looks forward for 'good writing' and 'the character to speak' to her, in a new project, the people she will work with... Cliche AF. The Cut and The Amateur roles are 'not huge', the last she clearly said it was a small role, 'it's not my film, it's someone else's film'. She 'did not want to be working all the time, obviously with a small child'. Defined The Cut's plot as 'bizarre', and The Amateur as 'funny'. Loves her job, is happy with it.

✔️last question was asked by a French woman with a very thick accent, about traveling and learning things out of it - C. considers herself very lucky to have been able to travel all around the world as a model. Traveling taught her empathy, how to get over our very Christian centric view of the world. Mentions growing up in 'a very small village in Ireland, that was pretty much, you know, one church, one tiny school and one shop'. Her parents 'instilled a love of reading and learning'. Then she left Ireland to live in France and Japan, and traveled to Nepal. Nepal :'the trip that changed me and changed my life, because I was like seeing a completely different culture that had no correlation to anything that I grew up with, but it was the most beautiful spiritual awakening I guess I've ever had. (...) By traveling and by eating different foods and trying to speak other languages, which I try to do and I apologize to everybody because I try and speak your language, too, because I think (...) it's important to try and connect, because we expect people to come here and do that and it's so rude we don't go and do the same [ applause].' Being able to travel allows us to see how different and how similar we are'.

Ended with a huge thank you to fans, it's been so long that I wasn't attending a convention, 'but it meant the world to me to meet you all again, seen so many familiar faces, it feels so weird to be at the end of this show, because it has meant so much to me (...). Will see you all again soon.'

***

And now, for my comments and findings. Almost point by point:

Kate Bush, LOL (we'll never agree, C and I, on this one; but I can almost imagine Blonde Bambino cooing this - awww):

So, she basically repeated the same anecdote as last year, during promo. From Sade to Kate Bush, and hey, what about that birthday - 'the other day'? But let's not be nitpicky.

'Gerry' actually is Gerard McKenzie Govan, one of the three Directors and the founder of The Blankfaces CIC, a Community Interest Company (regular company with an increased social responsibility twist and, as such, heavily subsidized by the local authorities, too). More on him, here, for those who really want to know about him: https://www.glasgowwestendtoday.scot/magazine/the-man-behind-the-blankfaces-1391/. But that is not the most juicy part, actually - some blatant inconsistencies are. Like 'Gerry' being a friend of Nameless Husband's, but still she met him socially (huh? I thought he was a friend of Nameless Husband, hence a family acquaintance?). Also, C doesn't know shite about The Blankfaces, but still bravely fills in those blanks, like when she tells us fans Gerry has been doing Blankfaces 'for a long time'. The UK competent public authority, Companies House, says something very different and I can prove that the CIC was registered in 2018. Which is not really a long time at all:

'March 6, 2018 - Incorporation of a Community Interest Company' - see above. It also doesn't seem to be very well managed, at all:

Both its yearly accounts and its confirmation statement are long overdue (since 2023, in fact). The CIC is, actually, subject of an 'active proposal to strike off', which means it will be closed/dissolved, and rather sooner than later:

In their case, I suspect a compulsory strike-off, issued by the Companies House register. Fits with the legal criteria:

In a nutshell: because The Blankfaces failed to file its annual accounts and confirmation statement AND because it did not answer to the Companies House's two kind reminder letters, it will be forcibly dissolved in less than two months from now and there is NO going back on that decision, according to UK law.

Wouldn't C know about her Nameless Husband's Friend huge problems? I mean, how more tone-deaf and disconnected can you be, promoting a clinically dead business and inviting people to buy their clothes from their online shop?

Unless... Yeah, unless - but oooh, stupid shippers, slap a shipper, etc.

[Source: Moore and Stoke, an insolvency practitioners' firm based in Stoke-on Trent, UK - simply because they had the simplest and most recent legal explanation, see here: https://www.moorestoke.co.uk/active-proposal-to-strike-off/].

Compared to that, the fact that Tracula was nowhere to be seen at the recent Andrew Hozier-Byrne's concert in GLA is really peanuts. This is serious, legal stuff and please don't give me the 'she's an artist, she doesn't know shit about business' lame excuse. She is also a businesswoman, with her own spirits brand and several other companies, at least in the UK, Ireland and the US. Give me a break, #IYKYK.

Can't wait to be done with OL. Even the thought of a future movie based on Book Ten makes her cringe. Felt it in her voice and it was enough.

World feels like a cesspool? Why on Earth? She is a beautiful, successful and accomplished woman, with her own family and free from want. A cesspool is a very strong and strange word, in this apparent context. Unless.. but yeah, stupid shipper, slap a shipper. Missing conversations, expressing her opinion.... Not even LOL. It made me feel sad. Everything that happened to them since 2016 must be such a burden.

Sammy. SAMMY? Whoa, girl! Merci beaucoup, vraiment. Term of endearment, anyone? Compare with the stiff dead 'my husband' - again, the difference between a teddy bear and a guillotine is transparent in her voice. Also, DG - a difficult topic for her. She doesn't like 'Erself much and I think we all know why.

You tell me about 87 countries, Ma'am. I experience it every day, from the sidelines, so I can easily imagine what the impact could be for you. OL, that blessing and that curse. Also, when she is fed up with prodding and unwilling to kiss arses, she'd quip something along the lines of 'amazing' and be done with it.

Bonnie Scotland and the Day After. Another great moment of 'what the hell ever, just say anything'. Also, Caitriona Mary is a terrible, terrible liar - just like Sam Roland, you know. Her answer came out as incoherent and borderline illogical. Look at this: ' I mean, I think I'll… my husband is Scottish' - the 'I'll' part was her spontaneous starting to answer, about herself, but then inhibition kicked in and shit, she remembered she is married and had to somehow insert Tracula and both his parents (alive, just to make sure). Also, excuse me, hellooo: 'I think we'll always have something there'. Sounds like a flat, more like a pied-à-terre, but lo and behold, she suggests life is going to be elsewhere. What about that pharaonic McMansion, we so passionately followed the painstaking refurbishment of, double glazing included and borderline scandalizing the local heritage protection NGOs in the process? That doesn't really sound like 'something there', does it? That Bear Grylls flat looked more like 'something there', so where's the catch-22, here? What if I was right about McMansion being a fixer-upper she never planned to live in (where, oh where does The Happy Couple live? ooooh, ROFLMAO)? What if I was right about some other thoughts I am not ready to discuss yet? Questions, questions. And yes, London. IYKYK and very different from the emotional, savant blur. Also, for a very organized grown-up woman (her own words, see above), not knowing what the future holds... I mean I get it, but how peculiar, isn't it? Drawing a line, that question unsettled her. She was not planning to answer. She ended with a joke on not being able to see 'that yellow thing in the sky for five months in a row'. Get me out of this question and quick.

The music tastes' question was very clearly audible, even from the back of the room and I had zero trouble to distinctly hear it - it was also asked in a posh & polite British accent, so that helped a LOT: ' do you and Tony share the same music tastes?' The Freudian slip is simply inexplicable. Also, she answered Tony, not 'my husband' : Tony+ my husband in the same phrase is something beyond her strength. But why answer about S at all, that was NOT the question? Why? There are limits to dumbfuckery, after all. Also, Steve is such a pain in the arse. Who, in your mind and heart, is the real husband, C?

Whisky vs. Bourbon, she mumbled her answer, very uneasy, had to listen three times to untangle it. The Soup Nazi had to step in and bark the answer, train station megaphone style, for everyone to hear and get the memo. Now I understand why. And you should, too.

'He's so mean'. Definitely not in jest. Steve, that is. Fire that dick. Plus, later on, she quipped to him: 'you have the reputation of being like a strict schoolmaster'. Answer: 'maybe I am'. A cara nem treme, like they say in Brazil.

In that gin question, the Stan dutifully mentioned Tony (arse kissers, ALL OF THEM) - she could have mentioned him openly, she had a boulevard in front of her. But nope, she came back to mainly mentioning her own experience and a very vague 'we'.

'And I think Sam was the same' - conversations were had early on. In Central Park, London. And then things went very fast, as it sometimes happens. Sharing takes things on a very different level. I think this is exactly what happened to them.

Memorable places: they both are very moved by Craigh Na Dun, and it's absolutely normal. And Hopetoun - LOL, hello, of course ('The Door Faces North', pun totally intended).

Next two movies: so long for her Stans' delusions she was given a main role. She wrapped deception with grace and hid behind being a mom. ALL THE ANTI BLOGS WERE EERILY SILENT ABOUT THIS. I wonder why. Actually no, I don't. But sure, shippers twist things, shippers hide things. No shame, those people.

The last question, on travel, was my favorite one. I think it was perhaps the only time she felt able to fully express what she meant and wanted to. Many will jump on that Nepal reference and it is correct, but to me, on a very personal level, it spoke in many, many other ways. This is the C I have managed to embrace, reluctantly at first (I admit) and like a LOT. This is the witty girl I thought I have lost forever in that sea of painful innuendos, stupid Stans ass-kissing and blurring everything in the process, plus a Nazi minder on top. Fire that dick. Seriously. He wanted to end on a 'funny' Kumbaya note - she subtly managed to break free. Thank you, C. Seriously. The wonder you are and completely unaware of it. And the things you can do with words, if only you'd dare play with them some more.

Her tone at the end was emotional. Very. It was the same tone as for that 'partner everyday' gala speech. Oh, the things she wanted to tell all of us. And if we only knew. But hey, she promised we will meet again, soon. Perhaps in Paris? I'll gladly speak to you. In French.

A HUGE thank you. Both of you. I love you, girls.

[phlurrii]

It’s finally time to introduce the secondary project I’ve been working on >;Dc

I’ve had this queued for sometime in June, did not check when, so hello on [random date in june] ;D

I’m also here to explain how I’ll be posting this stuff going forward! Everything will be posted here, on my main account before being reblogged over to Soul’s Anchor a side bog with the place holder title. Unless it deals with more adult/suggestive content or heavier topics, of which will be exclusively posted to Soul’s Anchor side blog. As I don’t want certain themes alongside AM! I’ll also be referring to this series as Anchor for short! I will encourage any and all Questions, Mentions, and Thoughts to be directed there for those interested and those who are not, dw! You’ll only see the initial posts here, no asks or follows up, but this is still my art account and I shall enjoy it as I please ;3

Brief Synopsis about the Story:

A queer love story following a cursed pirate and a cult refugee implanted with a god’s eye as they combat the reality of living in a world which was created solely to feed the gods that govern it. All whilst a sapphic couple attempt to help guide the pair along a path to to a better future, one that’s validity comes into question. A dark fantasy story that aims to represent the disabled community, the LGBTQIA+, and SA survivors written by fellow members of these communities.

Also brief disclaimer, I, Phlurrii, am simply an ally to the disabled community, my partner in crime writing alongside me, ArtJunco on Instagram, is our resident community member ;]

Anyways onto the meat of this!

Below is a collection of some, emphasis on some, of the concept art and processes I went through to develop and create one of the two main characters, Lumae.

Here are some of the earliest ideas, the basic thoughts I had in my brain when developing this goober after a 3 hours pacing in my kitchen at 1 am when that inspiration struck. His hair was the HARDEST bit for me to figure out. Which sucked as usually the hair is one of the first things I figure out because of how much I love it, so it was Agony while brainstorming that part.

I also briefly considered a goatee, however it was so cruelly shot down by my dear friend. So in stead we compromised that he may get one later down the line story wise… and see how we feel then. However, upon finally figuring out his hair I was bloody elated, still has some tweaks now and then, but the base is there.

As for this next concept, this was actually the FIRST thing created for Lumae and what started everything else about his character/design! His eyes! They are still my favourite but about him and something I adore whole heartedly! They are the core of his character ;3c

These next few are early refs and mock ups of his full design, testing our colours, experimenting with shading, getting used to drawing humans again, and general concepts I had for him as a character! Also a sneak peak at Ayric, our second main goober for this story! Who was lovingly designed and created by ArtJunco!

And finally his most recent WIP ref! The only thing currently bothering me about his design is the colour for his boot covers, I have no idea what to do with them so I’d you have suggestion or ideas, sincerely, feel free to shoot an ask to the Anchor blog! I’d genuinely love outside opinions!

As for the main curiosity of why I’m doing this, for those that missed the last post, I’ll give a brief explanation below ;3

To help with burnout so I can hop between fixations, help to avoid losing interest in AM in the future!

Keep up practicing humans and critters alike.

To take a break from story telling to do story building! Give the telling part of my brain a break, while still making cool stuff ;]

To have a more interactive blog with ya’ll! One where I’ll likely be asking advice and discussing a lot more hypotheticals, doodling asks, and general audience interaction given I am not bound by any updates! Purely just “ooo… shiny-“ and anyone is welcome to join me ;D

Last thing I request is to please read Anchor’s blog bio/description before you follow, as this story will deal with subjects not suited for all audiences posted/discussed exclusively on that blog.

Anywho, that’s all for now folks, hope you enjoyed this brief intermission to kickoff the second project being public!

[one-of-tankhuns-neurons]

My Stand-In episode 10 was sOooo fucking satisfying to watch

First of all

Cute. You can tell this poor little puppy never sneaked a guy into his room in his teens and never had a parent walk in on him. He fr thought that was gonna work and Ming just went along with it bc he finds it endearing. This is the episode where we see ming's trUe growth as a character and as a person

Because time after time he keeps STANDING UP FOR JOE. He's asking for forgiveness, he's acknowledging all he did and he's trying to repair the damage. He changed from bossing people around to actually being on the begging end. He's asking, he's making the effort. Yes he pulled contract, but because of TIME, he didn't force anything on Joe violently this time.

Look at my boy getting angry for Joe and facing the very asshole that had him on a leash for years.

I loooooved how his face changes when he hears he doesn't have the upper hand. Props to Mek for being a great actor but bitch ur making me hate your face... Lots of love still.

THIS LINE HERE... It's not enough experiencing it.. I need it as drUgs fr. That rich turban daddy KNOWS Tong. He knows his every move and the way he gets human shields for him and takes the credit.. that's why Tong is so afraid of him. He cannot play him... Oh my god seeing Tong fucked up feels so good it should count as p*rn fr.

AND WHAT DID I TELL Y'ALL ABOUT THIS GIRL

She's getting caught up in the mess, I hope she gets out. Because the monster is cornered...

LITERALLY cornered. Look at that fucking coward physically HIDING behind Ming's mom.

Go grow a pair. He couldn't find a stand in for his bALLS so he didn't even go to Ming's dad.

But DEAR LORD THE LITERAL BEST MOMENT OF THE YEAR, BEST TURNAROUND, BEST CHARACTER GROWTH

Step 1: making them think they've won

Step 2: pull the sassiest face in the history of EVER that's fueled by extreme gay rage

Step 3: fuck em up

FUCKING SHIT YES

He's literally weaponizing Tong's threat. He doesn't care. He is not only standing up for his BOYFRIEND, but he is standing up for HIMSELF. My man Ming was always manhandled and abused and scared. He's seeing clearer than ever now, and he's all in. FUCK YES MING IM AO GLAD YOU DIDN'T FUCKING LET US DOWN. This is hot. This is what we nEed.

I mean how he passed by his mom and Tong and goes up half the stairs... he is ABOVE THEM now, he cleared that stage.. and now look how far up his dad is physically. This shows how much of a difference in power and importance that man has, and still Ming is facing it alone.

GOOOOOOLD

[twilghtkoo]

summary. haechan gets hurt but you know that with him it’s not going to be as simple as putting a band-aid on it

pairings. haechan x reader (f)

genre. fluff, crack? friends to lovers??

word count. 1.64k

warnings. mentions of blood, a creepy man stares at reader

notes. me finding hello kitty bandaids in a store and buying them sparked this idea so :D like and reblog if you enjoy this !!

masterlist

—

your dear friend is one stubborn person. one who seeks excitement wherever he can find it and likes to find things out the hard way. in this case being, falling off of a skateboard. you told him to not ride too fast and to not go down the small pavement hill, and what did he do? go down the hill riding too fast. the hill had caused him to accelerate unwillingly and him not being able to stop himself before he collided with the ground.

you gasped at the scene from the bench that was a bit of a distance between you and haechan, who is lying still in the grass. he’s not dead, just lying face down suffering from embarrassment and moaning in pain.

you let out a big sigh, grabbing all of yours and his belongings before crouching down next to the limp body.

you carefully reach out your hand to place on his back. “haechan…”

he flinched at your presence, turning over slowly. “no go away, let me lie in my own embarrassment and pain alone.” he breathes out. his eyes are shut tightly as he holds his hip and his knees brought to his chest.

you roll your eyes at him, shoving his hand away to take a close look at his knee. “you’re a drama queen, you know that?”

his knee suffered the most from the fall, his hip for sure will have a bruise tomorrow.

you wince at the blood, the . “you’re bleeding haechan, we have to get back to the bench so i can clean it up.” you inform him.

he shakes his head, bringing his forearm to cover his face. “no, just leave me here to bleed out.”

you scoff, shaking your head before you take the arm that hides his face and pulling him up to his feet.

“shit,” he curses.

you allow him to use you for support as you both struggle to make your way back to the park bench. he sits himself down and finally glances at his knee.

his eyes bulge out at the bloody sheet on his knee. “ew, oh my god, that’s a lot of blood.”

you nod, “it’s not too bad, thank goodness. stay here i’m going to run to the convenience store and get stuff to clean it up.” and you’re gone before he can argue, leaving him alone with a bloody knee and an aching hip.

the doorbell chimes once you walk into the store, giving the worker a nod as you make your way to where the bandages are. there’s the store brand, a brand you recognize from tv and there’s some fun cartoon ones. pokémon, baby shark, toy story and others.

a certain box is quickly in your hands as you smirk to yourself. grabbing a few other things before making your way to pay for it.

“hey squirrel, did you see how i fell? was it embarrassing?” haechan speaks to the small animal that is munching on something next to his feet. the squirrel doesn’t react in any way, obviously. and he wonders to himself why he doesn’t listen to you, knowing you’re always right. why did he itch to go down that stupid hill and tumble to his doom. in front of you.

“look at all this blood. can you believe i fell in front of the girl i like.” he speaks again, but more like to himself as he stares at the gash on his knee and the drop of blood trickling down his leg.

you and him are close friends. first meeting each other at the movie theater when a few studio ghibli movies were showing. you ripped his ticket up in your cute work uniform behind the counter, making small conversation and telling him that spirited away was your favorite movie and telling him to enjoy the film.

and he enjoyed the film, even coming back out the theater room and finding you in the same spot you both met earlier. you were a quiet character, not much of a talker but just because you didn’t really have much to say but you loved listening. you love and care for people in your own way, something he admires and loves about you. to strangers you may seem closed off but when you grow comfortable with someone you’re very high spirited.

he hears footsteps running quickly to his side, the squirrel scurrying off probably to the tree behind him. goodbye, little friend.

you slow your pace down once you’re near him, a warm smile on your face as you wave the bag in your hand in front of him.

“i’m back,” you huffed, crouching and placing the bag down next to you. your bottom lip is sucked in between your teeth, deeply concentrated as you take out the essentials.

“i’m just gonna clean it with water real quick, okay?” you show him the water bottle and napkins in your hands.

you carefully pour the liquid onto the napkins, your hand grabs the back of his knee as you bring it closer to the abrasion.

before the wet cloth touches him, he flinches away. “wait!” he yelps.

you jump, “what?”

“i’m scared,” he pouts.

your hands drop. “of what?”

“it’s gonna burn!”

“oh my god, haechan do not start.”

he lightly kicks his leg away from you, shielding his wound with his hands.

“haechan i will literally hold you down, it’s not gonna hurt that bad. i promise.” you try to threaten him. you reach for his leg again, wiping the blood that trickled it’s way down and stained his white socks.

his eyes follow another pair of feet walking past you, a man in a tracksuit ogles at your back. haechan follows his eyes to you, and he realizes you’re wearing a dress. haechan’a eyes narrow at the man but the stranger isn’t ashamed as he keeps looking back at you. he’s sure the man can feel his hard stares but is just ignoring him and that makes his blood coil. haechan shrugs his zip up sweater off and cooly throws it over your shoulders, it’s big enough on you to cover the draft to any passersby’s.

you look at the sweater on your shoulders but ignore it, he observes you for a bit before dropping his shoulders. “hmph, fine.”

“and look!” you gasp, reaching down beside you to hold out the small box of hello kitty band aids with a big smile curving your lips upwards.

haechan’s face deadpans. ��how old are you?”

you frown, taken back. “what? they’re bandages, but cute. do you want to bleed out? don’t disrespect miss hello kitty.” you stuck your chin out.

he laughs, “i’m a grown ass man, i’m not slapping hello kitty on my battle scar.”

now it’s your turn to laugh. “a grown ass man that fell and acted like he was on the brink of death. yeah, okay. give me your knee,” you demanded.

you quickly dab as much blood away as you can through haechan’s hisses. wiping away the dried blood was a bit hard since he was fighting you but it’s all clean.

“green or pink?” you ask.

he tilts his head, thinking before he answers green.

you take the selected band-aid, the hello kitty that is customized with a green bow and green dress, a blue colored sky behind her and a red flower on the ground that matches her outfit. how cute.

you peel it off from the wrapper, gently placing it over his wound.

you crumble the trash in your hands and place it inside the grocery bag. “all better now, see? wasn’t so bad.”

you stand up, wincing from the position you were sat in for so long before haechan’s long, slick fingers wrapped around your wrist.

“wait, you forgot something.” he tells you.

“huh, what did i forget?” you genuinely ask.

he looks at you seriously. “you have to kiss it better, so it’ll heal quicker.”

your lips part and your cheeks heat up. “what…” the word barely leaves past your lips.

he raises his eyebrows expectantly, as if he’s waiting.

you shake your head, snatching your hand out of his grasp. “be serious, haechan.”

“i’m being very serious,” he tells you. “come on, don’t you want me to get better?”

“it’s just a scrape, your leg isn’t broken.” can he hear the thumping in your chest? god, it’s like it’s ringing in your ears.

you know he’s not gonna let you get away without actually kneeling down and kissing his knee. he will put up a fight in this park and you know it. he likes to tease you.

but how can he ask that question so freely. your lips have never touched any part of his skin because friends don’t do that!

it’s like he loves torturing you, contributing these heartfelt acts unknowingly like an arrow to your heart.

“you big baby.” you mumble out, crouching down and taking a clear glimpse at the cute bandage on his skin, it makes you smile.

haechan gazed at you, anticipating the moment your lips touch his skin. he is so sure that once your lips come in contact with his knee, he’ll be able to run a marathon. can you hear the thumping in his chest?

your face nears his knee, you pucker your lips and you gently place a kiss just below the bandage.

you clear your throat. “there. better now?” you try to act cool, standing to your feet and peering down at your friend.

“i don’t know, can you watch how far i run?” and your friend zooms past you, running across the grass field as if he wasn’t whining and limping by your side just a few moments ago.

“what the hell?” you shout out, chasing after him. “how are you running? yah, lee donghyuck!”

[sleepingdayaway]

Player has the Fierce Deity Mask

So uh this is an old writing I found in my docs and I decided to post it since I probably won't continue this. I did this for fun and for a discord server I'm in, but if you decide to read this then thanks!

Characters: Fierce Deity

Short Summary: What if player interacted with the Fierce Deity Mask first and refuses to give it back.

Waking up in the middle of the woods with a weird ass mask in their hands was definitely not on [Name]'s list of being woken up to, especially since there was a bunch of screeching noises around them.

When finally coming to the realization that they are in fact not home they quickly sat up and backed away from these weird pig monsters, although they look oddly familiar. That's when they noticed a mask that fell onto their lap, and lifted it up to see it properly. It's a perfect replica of the Fierce Deity mask from Majora's Mask, a game they used to play a lot, when they had the time.

Their eyes widened before looking back at the monsters and at which they realized that they are in fact, bokoblins from the Breath of the Wild game version, but the strangest thing is that they refused to get any closer to them. The bokoblins were screaming and clawing at them as if trying to reach them, but they couldn't, one even went as far as to throw a rock at them. It was able to hit them in the arm.

"Well? Are you not going to deal with them?" Spoke a voice from nearby, it sounded gruff as if it hadn't spoken in a while.

"What in the fuck? God???" 

They replied as they looked up in the sky with confusion on their face; the mask still in their hands. A chuckle was heard before the voice spoke again, "My my, tell me little one, are you able to hear me?"

[Name] looked down at the Fierce Deity mask and held it close to their face examining it, "Wait a damn minute, are you talking? Or am I hearing voices again."

A laugh was heard which caused them to turn red from embarrassment, "You are quite amusing, little one."

A breathy laugh came from [Name], "I will take that as a compliment, but uh I don't actually have anything to get rid of those nasty ass pigs since I deadass just woke up here with just you." It seems that the bokoblins could understand them since two more rocks were thrown at them, as they let out a scream before dodging them.

It was silent for a moment before the mask spoke again, "I will make a deal with you, I will lend you my power to deal with those pests as I said before."

[Name] held the mask closer to them staring for a moment before responding, "I swear, if I die because of a mask I'm going to cry."

They got up from the ground before looking back down at the mask. They aren't sure if they took any strong drugs before going to bed, or if this was one hella vivid dream they're having. Reluctantly they placed it onto their face, and they stood there for a moment before their vision turned white, but they could've sworn just before they blacked out they heard it speak again.

"Yes, I truly do hope you'll live after this, little one."

[Name] woke up again abruptly, they were breathing heavily as if they've been running for a while, before looking around at their surroundings; in the place where the bokoblins once were, there are now piles of random items those monsters dropped and disappearing purple smoke. In their [dominant hand] holds the Fierce Deity mask in all its glory as they use their other hand to drag it across their face while exhaling deeply to calm their breathing. "Holy shit, I don't remember what the fuck happened once I put it one, but damn am I tired."

"It appears that you survived, congratulations, dear, " the mask spoke and it sounded like it was in fact happy and surprised that they lived.

[Name] stared at it with a smile on their face, "Keep complimenting me and I just might get attached to you, but uh after that don't you think it's fair that we introduce each other?"

"Hmmm… yes, I do believe so. I am the Fierce Deity, I come from the land of Termina, and, currently, I take the form of the mask you hold in your hand."

That earned a huge grin from them, "Nice to meet you, Fierce Deity, I'm [Name] and I am not from here, actually…how did I get here?" They tried to remember the events that happened before being in the forest.

 The images of a dark shadow lingering in the corner of their room, and red eyes appearing from it before lunging at them. A weird colored thing also showed up and then them and the weird red eyed shadow falling into it.

Fierce Deity spoke up, "I see, so it was that damn shadow creature who brought you here. I believe it is beneficial if I stay with you, so you will not perish. I also may be able to lead you to a group of adventurers; who are also in the same difficult situation as you." He said soothingly since he knew that you probably won't enjoy being with a person who would antagonize you in a world you are not familiar with.

 "Yeah? I appreciate that very much, Fierce Deity. Well I agree to those terms, I'll gladly have you with me as we find those guys you-" they were cut off by the sounds of multiple footsteps being rushed towards them. A chuckle could be heard from him, "It appears we haven't even needed to search for them at all. They have found you."

It seems that he was right as a tall man rushed forward, and stared them down with one eye, a couple of other guys also behind him staring at them as they caught their breaths.

The oldest and tallest one of the group stepped closer towards you with one of his hands reaching out, "I am sorry for asking this suddenly, but may I please have that mask back?"

[Name] stared at the group in shock as they took a step back and held the Fierce Deity closer to them, "Fuck no, he's mine-"

[republicsglory]

i think the faeries of cookie run kingdom in general are a waste and that's really sad </3

okay, face it. faeries are already a banger concept, and kingdom's twist on them is really unique! and very ironic — fae are often depicted to be allergic to silvers. really fun spin on it.

but god..... head in hands.... what did you DOOOOOOOO. it's no secret that the beast yeast arc was (and still is) a mess. but i think it's really sad how these sick ass concepts just.. get executed so poorly??

the thing is, in the 3rd anniversary, devsisters was trying to bite off more than they could chew. the introduction of the beasts was sudden, they felt pretty shoehorned in. i COULD say shadow milk is exempt from this — he's got some decent foreshadowing! can't say the others have it going for them...

okay, sure, introduce the beasts. introduce the faerie kingdom with them. these two things of course go hand in hand. BUT HOLD YOUR HORSES WITH THE BEASTS???

it's okay for crk to introduce new nations! but the faerie kingdom was out of the BLUE. nothing leading to it whatsoever. how are we supposed to deduce anything from what, white lily's prologue asset?

it's very possible to introduce a new nation and do it right. dare i say the créme republic? there were previous mentions and hints to it ingame, making its introduction decent. see — if executed correctly enough, the faerie kingdom may not have needed too much of that.

let's say.. i dunno... two beast yeast episodes are equal to two days of odyssey. in two days of odyssey past ch1, that'd give us enough about the créme republic and time to learn about it! the good parts, and the gritty. BUT in the 3rd anniversary they were obviously trying to make it a little TOO big...

it'd have been nice to see those two episodes focus around the faerie kingdom, its traditions, its denizens and general environment and culture. there could've been problems without too much of a big bad, hell we could've had an almost beast escape. but then again, it WAS the anniversary, but was releasing lily not enough?

now don't get me wrong here — shadow milk had a spectacular introduction! he kind of saved the story i can't lie LOL but was his releasing from the seal..necessary so soon? of course, we'd just be delaying the inevitable, but it'd be nice to just..explore our surroundings a little first.

most information on faeriewood and the silver kingdom are in the LIMITED artbook </3 which kinda. sucks.

we should've also had time to meet the characters more. elder faerie dying is chill with me, nice to know devsisters aren't afraid to kill someone permanently. the problem is, his death was notably supposed to have impact. but like most people felt nothing... because elder faerie is more or less a plot device. give him a character, traits we can attach ourselves to!

there's a Lot more i could rant about actually, but my wrist hurts and i'm tired. i've posted stuff about the silver knights before. just had to let some of this out. tldr the faerie kingdom and faeries are a cool concept but dear god they were executed AWFULLY

[kwisatzworld]

Uccio Salucci: the good life

December 2008 by Mat Oxley

Uccio Salucci’s good life is living life with the world’s greatest motorcycle racer, handing him his helmet and gloves on the grid, topping up his energy drink in the pit, hanging out with him in Ibiza. In fact, everywhere Valentino Rossi goes, Uccio goes with him. It’s a bit like being God’s butler. There’s no doubt that Uccio lives the good life – travelling the world in first-class style with the hugely popular Rossi, who just happens to be his best mate as well as his employer. Uccio has been Rossi’s right-hand man since his earliest days on the GP trail, he’s like an extra pair of hands for the seven-time world champion. The old school friends have known each other most of their lives and are pretty much inseparable whether they’re in the paddock, partying in Ibiza or chilling out back home in Tavullia.

How old are you? I’m 29, same as Valentino.

How did you get here? We have been dear friends since we were four or five years old. We used to go to school together and after school we used to go minimoto racing together. Of course, Valentino was always faster. When he started travelling around and doing well in GPs he needed someone he could really trust to be with him, as all racers do. Valentino asked me to be his ‘main of faith’ and I said yes.

What do you do? My real job is to drive the motorhome to all the European races. I am also Valentino’s assistant, so he calls me bad names when things go badly and when things go well we share the happiness. I look after everything for him, all his kit, his leathers, helmets, gloves and boots, anything he hasn’t got time to do, I do.

What is the highlight of your job? Travelling, seeing new things, learning new cultures and, of course, being with an amazing character like Valentino. He’s a lot of fun to be with, in and out of the paddock. Of course, we do argue, we argue a lot, like women! The best moment of our time together was South Africa 2004, his first win with Yamaha.

What makes you tick? The engine of my job is wanting to win the race on Sunday, this is my main motivation, just like Valentino’s. You cannot do this job if you’re not hungry for victory.

Is it the easy life? It’s easy and it’s difficult. For sure it’s easier than a proper job, I don’t consider this to be a real job. It’s difficult to be with Valentino because he’s very famous, so he gets a lot of criticism, so you always have to stay calm about this kind of thing. But you get used to the lifestyle, it’s not a crazy life but an emotional life.

What’s your best-ever trip? I always enjoy driving the motorhome on long journeys, like to Jerez in southern Spain. The motorhome is always very crowded, there’s always four or five of us from Tavullia, with me doing all the driving.

What’s the best bike you’ve ever ridden? The Yamaha 990cc M1! I rode it twice in 2006, first at Monza, then at Valencia. Valentino let a few of us ride his bike. It was fantastic, the power and the braking were incredible, and the handling was so light and easy, like a bicycle. But I didn’t go very fast. For sure if I crash, I die!

What’s the secret of the good life? The secret of the good life in the paddock is to take everything lightly, not to take it too seriously. There’s a lot of pressures and if you focus too much on the pressures you don’t have a good time.

What would you swap about your good life? I don’t like it when Valentino gets criticised. The paddock is like a barber’s shop, everyone talks a lot, there’s a lot of bullshit, I don’t like that aspect of this world.

How often do you ride? I have an XT660 Supermotard, I go to the seaside from Tavullia. In the summer I never drive a car. Maybe I’m a little crazy on the street, especially on roundabouts: foot down, wheelies. But please don’t write that.

Who else has the good life? Rock stars!

You and Valentino like a party don’t you? Yes, of course, we love parties, but we’re getting older so we don’t party as much as we used to. We like to be with friends, eat a pizza…

So no more DC10? [A legendary Ibiza pill-popping club] We don’t like it anymore, the people are different now, Ibiza has changed.

What’s the best party you’ve been to? DC10 in 2000, before Vale bought a house in Ibiza. That was crazy!

What about girls? Some people think I’m a filter for Valentino’s girls but I’m not, maybe it would be nice. The problem of being with Valentino is that when a nice girl comes to meet us, she soon goes off with Valentino. He’s better looking, thinner, richer… and faster too.

Was the good life better in 1997 or is it better now? Those early days in GPs were unforgettable, the world championship was a dream come true for us but it was kind of like a game back then. We used to play, we were more natural in the way we carried on. Then we got older, racing got more serious and now it’s becoming more like a normal job.

What happens away from races? I’m with Valentino wherever he goes, like two normal friends, well, maybe not normal friends, but we are very good friends who get along well in all kind of circumstances.

And what good life after this good life? Recently I’ve started thinking about this but at the moment I have no idea. I will worry about this problem when I have to worry about it…

[wickjump]

Hey um if that's fine what do you think about Fresh x Error (if we ignore Error's hatred/fear for Fresh in the canon)

It's fine if you don't want to answer-

(or heck even in bromance)

RETROGLITCH!!!!! AW man. i think they’re a really neat pair (cq jokes about them being canon too so how could i not at this point) and are UNFAIRLY underrated. i feel like it would be a huge “i hate you” to “i wouldn’t kill you if given the option 💕” dynamic. this is sort of how i imagine them going:

“i hate you so so so much” -> “i hate you but i can tolerate you under certain circumstances” -> “okay sit over there don’t speak don’t move and you can watch my show with me” -> “okay FINE you can sit on the beanbag dear god” -> “okay so i don’t want to touch you but because you’re SO insistent here’s a doll of me. touch that all you want. why do i have one? shut up and keep watching the show” -> extended periods of hand holding but error glares at fresh every so often and fresh just grins back

i think they’re fun. they’d be a slow burn definitely but i feel they could happen. it’s joked about that fresh comes to error to rant even if error doesn’t seem to care. so like. they do interact. error fears fresh because he can’t be destroyed like aus can, because fresh doesn’t belong to any known au. that and the whole “living sensory nightmare” thing.

and fresh does show the ability to have good character development. he can feel things, it’s just difficult to get him to, and he fears those feelings because he doesn’t understand them and they’re purely irrational. and he canonically can feel romantic attraction too, as shown with greaser. fresh would 100% be able to harbor genuine feelings for error, so that can’t be argued against them. i feel fresh would reason “i like error, error doesn’t like when i do X, and if i keep doing X, he will leave, which i don’t want, because i like error” with certain aspects of himself, as in the touching and the sensory overload he brings. he’s very rational and simplistic with his thought process at times, so it wouldn’t be hard for him to learn to cool it a bit with the whole bugging error 24/7 thing.

error would be able to slowly tolerate fresh more, especially after fresh tones it down a bit with the touching and loudness and all that. again, they’d be a very slow burn but it would burn nonetheless. i like them a lot. i think they’re super sweet and cool and underrated. i can’t find any good fics on them :( (recs appreciated)

fresh would bug error to knit him arm/leg warmers i feel. and error would complain about fresh being there sitting in the corner watching him but eventually he’d get used to and appreciate his presence. fresh is like a body double for him

fresh is also, as ive said before on tiktok, much more sociable than most other “creepy” characters. he’s a social type of guy, he interacts fluently with people even if he can be a bit offputting at first. he would be fun at a party!!!! he would probably manage to socialize error a bit more because the isolation is only furthering his fucked up murdery mindset which is good for him.

something else really funny is that fresh is so emotionally unintelligent that he does not register romance when he feels it. his character is unused to emotion outside of the rare primal fear he’s programmed with, so when he experiences it he’s either freaked out or doesn’t understand it. romance is canonically something fresh doesn’t understand when he feels it iirc. so he and error are also both emotionally unintelligent idiots when it comes to their feelings which makes them a match made in heaven and also hell i think.

i think they’re cool…!!!!!

[astrronomemes]

THE SECRET HISTORY: STARTERS

a collection of quotes, phrases, and sayings from the 1992 novel The Secret History by Donna Tartt. change & alter as needed.

"I suppose, at one time in my life, I might have had any number of stories, but now there is no other. This is the only story I will ever be able to tell."

"If there's one thing I'm good at, it's lying on my feet. It's a sort of gift I have."

"I am nothing in my soul if not obsessive."

"He can't be all that elitist if he accepted me."

"Well, if he doesn't know, I'm not going to tell him."

"No person, no matter how beloved, can ever truly understand us."

"Bloody, terrible things are sometimes the most beautiful."

"Let God consume us, devour us, unstring our bones... then spit us out, reborn."

"I mean to say, [name] is a handsome fellow and a sterling character, but I wouldn't want to marry him, would I?"

"You had better watch out. I've heard some weird shit about those people."

"You're always saying that, [name], but I just don't think it's true."

"[Name], put me down. I'm bleeding all over you."

"You shouldn't push your friends away like that. The best friends you'll ever have are the ones you're making right now."

"I told you, I don't have any friends here."

"I think it's good to change the place where one sleeps from time to time. It gives one more interesting dreams."

"I mean, he's not what you think. Or what [name] thinks, or anybody else. For a while there, he had me fooled but good."

"The appeal to stop being yourself, even for a little while, is very great."

"You're being so nice about this. I feel awfully embarrassed by the whole thing."

"Well, you may or may not know this, but [name] is a little jealous of you."

"Jesus, [name], you know everything. You make me sick."

"They say the same about arsenic, but I wouldn't like to try it."

"Anything I do will be dangerous, you know."

"What do you and [name] need a secret code for?"

"A person can do an awful lot of talking in twelve hours."

"If we keep it as casual as possible, no one will give us a second glance. People don't pay attention to ninety percent of what they see."

"Really, there's nothing to worry about. It seems risky, but if you look at it logically, it couldn't be safer."

"Who do you think [name] would be more apt to believe?"

"Forgive me for being blunt, but if you think you have any influence over [name], you're sadly mistaken. He's not particularly fond of you, and if I may speak plainly, he never has been."

"There were some things you had to know, I suppose, but I feel I've done you a disservice by involving you this far."

"What is unthinkable is undoable."

"Anyway, you want to come to this party?"

"You idiot. Did you know your shirt is on inside out?"

"I had a dream tonight. You were in it."

"I need more than coffee."

"I'm embarrassed that people will think we went to see such bad movies."

"He knows we're lying. He just doesn't know what we're lying about."

"I prefer to think of it as a redistribution of matter."

"These guys will chop you up and put you in a garbage bag for twenty bucks."

"You know, we've done a terrible thing."

"You know, I'm really not attracted to you."

"Anything is grand if it's done on a large enough scale."

"You look as if you were in a barroom brawl."

"People get upset, all of a sudden they want to listen to old hippie garbage they would never listen to if they were in their right mind. When my cat died, I had to go out and borrow all these Simon & Garfunkel records."

"By the way, I've been meaning to ask, what did you do to your eye?"

"Murder is pollution. The murderer defiles everyone he comes into contact with. And the only way to purify blood is through blood."

"You amaze me. You think nothing exists if you can't see it."

"He loved you, too. He would have wanted you to know that. You know that, don't you, dear?"

"Do you think I should go to the hospital?"

"I didn't take anything. You know very well I didn't."

"I would've told them anything if I thought they'd send me home."

"I mean, I've been drinking a bit more than I should. I'm the first to admit that."

"I never brought your name up, man. I hardly fucking know you. But they got it from somewhere. And it wasn't from me."

"Look at [name]. Don't you just love him? If he called me up and asked me to marry him, I would do it in, like, one second."

"Is death really so terrible a thing? It seems terrible to you, because you are young, but who is to say he is not better off now than you are? Or — if death is a journey to another place — that you will not see him again?"

"I'm not taking sides. I just think whatever you're doing, you picked a bad time to do it."

"[Name], it's none of my business, but I hope for God's sake you know what you're doing."

"What the hell is wrong with you? Why do you have to make things so hard for everybody?!"

"You don't feel a great deal of emotion for other people, do you?"

"My life, for the most part, has been very stale and colorless. Dead, I mean. The world has always been an empty place to me."

"I know I said earlier that he was perfect, but he wasn't perfect. Far from it — he could be silly and vain and remote and often cruel, and still, we loved him, in spite of, because."

"Flesh and blood are frail and weak, and there comes a time when we have to transcend our teachers."

"I loved him more than my own father. I loved him more than anyone in the world."

"I don't care what happens to him. I don't care if he dies. I wish he was dead."

"[Name] can't hurt you. You're perfectly safe out here."

"Kidnap is not the word that I would use."

"So, you've come to kill me?"

"If you want to shoot me, [name], go ahead and do it. It'll be the stupidest thing you ever did in your life."

"The stupidest thing I ever did in my life was listening to you."

"I managed to get out of taking my French exams next week, due to the very excellent excuse of having a gunshot wound to the stomach."

"Forgive me, for all the things I did, but mostly for the ones I did not."

"You know, everybody is saying that you're dead."

"Are you happy here?"

[hijackalx]

GALE SFW HEADCANONS:

finally we got our lover boy here. its not a secret that he like gets super easily attached. i kind of hate that they patched that out bcz it fit his character so much. but yeah in my mind its canon he gets attached suppperrr easily also kind of the type of guy to love bomb tav. not in the manipulative way tho like he genuinely thinks hes in love.

he gives everything he has in relationships too like tav IS his everything. he can be pretty clingy but thats just cuz he loves them so much ❤️ ok yandere vibes hold on. not really but imagine.

the type of dude to draw pictures of him and tav holding hands in his diary (they are not drawn good) also definitely talks to himself a lot, or maybe to his cat (sometimes abt tav)

hands down the funniest mf at camp like hes the type thats just naturally funny he doesnt even try to be. its hard to take him serious sometimes bcz of it😭😭 he gets mad af about it too. like his funnyness is a blight on his existence he just wants to be taken seriously. also feel like he has the worst luck too like fucked up things always happen to him and thats also hilarious LMAO constantly has the camp in stitches

he has bad spatial awareness so hes always triggering traps and tav gets so mad 😹😹😹

love language:

giving= words of affirmation and quality time

always wants to be with tav. also loves to compliment them but he does it in his corny ass wizard way lol like in the most extra way possible. he cant just say "ur eyes look beautiful today" hes got to say some shit like "ur viewing orbs are looking most ravishing this eventide". i bet he would write poetry abt tav but he wouldnt give it to them bcz hes lowkey embarrassed 😔 like insecure in his ability not embarrassed by the action itself. he just wants to do tav justice and he doesnt think he can.

receiving= quality time

as long as tav wants to be with him too hes happy. he worries abt being too clingy so sometimes he'll distance himself and if tav closes that distance on their own itll make him so happy. like thats the best thing ever to him. to have somebody that wants to be in his presence and listen to him ramble.

i feel like gale is similar in height to astarion so like 5'11/6' hes probably closer to 5'11. like that is the most gale height to me. also hes a little thicker with some muscle. hes def got a lil belly 🤭❤️ his pecs are rlly smthng too like thats where most of his muscle goes. those look heavy let me carry them for u king 🤲🏻😼

GALE NSFW HEADCANONS:

A FREAKKKKKK !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS MAN IS A FREAK. WHAT was that shit in the sky ?????? THE FUCK ??? like he is THE MOST kinky mf here he will do almost anything. ONLY with ppl hes comfortable with tho. otherwise hes vanilla af. i honestly feel like hes mostly submissive tho just cuz hes chill like that. equally gives and receives. like straight up tav is his BABY he will do ANYTHING for them. probably introduced to most of his kinks thru tav (and mystra....... unfortunately.....)

loves to give head. like dear god. will beg tav to let him for real. hes very good at it too

incorporates sooo much magic. will make fake!gale fuck tav so he can watch. will use hot and cold magic and all that. electricity. the thunder stuff or whatever its called. literally anything u can think of to spice it up. he has thought of it. will also do freaky shit like using magic to mess with tav in public if u know what i mean

doesnt have a high body count i lowkey feel like mystra was his first. and he hasnt smashed anybody since. until tav.

exhibitionist AND humiliation kink. so these work hand in hand bcz like i said he doesnt do kinky shit with ppl hes not comfortable with so doing it where strangers might see is ultimate humiliation for him. but also likes to humiliate tav with it too.

will say a lot of nasty shit. this i feel he doesnt go super overboard with but its nasty compared to how he usually is. mostly when hes begging.

im gonna say gale has a solid 5 on him. and hes got hair i feel like most of the companions do but it works rlly good on gale lol. like hes got a happy trail and everything 🤤 nice hairy armpits too so u know hes got that manly ass MUSKK 💦💦💦 anyway i think his pp is pretty straight. like a wand lol. its a pretty normal pp.

aftercare with gale is the best yo like he makes sure tav is taken care of first and then cleans up on his own unless tav offers which he usually tells them to rest lol. hes just so sweet.

[starlightrosa]

LEE POMNI PLSS lers jax or ragatha or both maybe they had a sleepover in the circus or pillow fight turned tickle fight <33

Oh anon, that's such a wonderful prompt! I hope you enjoy, my dear :)

Giggly Jester

Summary: A simple pillow fight ends in a very ticklish way for a certain jester.

Word Count: 2.0k

Warning: slight intrusive thoughts for Pomni (in bold, there's only one though)

Enjoy! (First time writing TADC ever, hope u like it my dear :D)

Life in the Digital Circus was… interesting, to say the least. And very… unique characters too. A ringleader with a pair of teeth for a head, a doll who was probably the nicest of the lot, a sarcastic purple bunny, a chess piece who was slowly going insane, a sentient ribbon who cried when her mask was broken, whatever the hell “Zooble” was supposed to be… yes, that was what Pomni was given to work with when she had put on that fateful headset, and was transported to The Amazing Digital Circus.

The ringleader, a guy called Caine, had set up adventures with the whole crew on Pomni’s first day, which consisted of gathering up some creatures called “Gloinks.” Unsurprisingly, Caine’s latest “adventure” wasn’t very well received by any of the Digital Circus members, least of all Pomni. A new girl to the circus and its whimsy wonder, it was very easy for the poor dear to get a bit overwhelmed, and Pomni was trying her best to process in her very colourful room.

That was when Caine popped into existence in her room, scaring the poor jester so much that her jester hat fell off and hit the floor with a comical splat, her little musical bells jangling as they made contact with the ground of her room.

“Wake up, Pomni!”

“AAAH! Oh my God! Caine, don’t do that!” Pomni implored, the jester clutching at her digital chest, feeling her heart pumping beneath the pale skin. Caine tutted and waggled his gloved finger as Pomni picked her hat back up and jammed it back on her head.

“Now, now, Pomni. Don’t be such a jumpy Josie! I just wanted to make sure you’d hear me. Jax and Ragatha would like to meet you at the main stage. They have an idea to help you get acquainted with your new life here in the Digital Circus. And we all know that I, as the ringleader, fully endorse any idea to make you comfortable here.”

“Ragatha and Jax? Oh no…” Pomni muttered. Ragatha was nice, sure… but Jax? That sarcastic lilac rabbit only ever liked to see funny things happen to people, regardless of intentions. Pomni was sure nothing good could come from being with Jax.

“Come along, Pomni! Let us not dilly dally, or dally dilly for that matter!” Caine urged, grabbing Pomni by the waist. With a snap of his gloved fingers, Pomni was transported to the main stage. She felt really dizzy after the fact, her colourful irises whirling about in her head briefly before her vision managed to correct.

She turned around to scold Caine for doing that, but the AI had vanished. Pomni sighed and looked around.

“Ragatha? J-Jax?” Pomni called, walking forward in the dark. Why were the lights off?

“Heads up!” came the only warning call before Pomni’s face met something soft, startling her. BIFF!

The lights clicked on and Pomni looked down to see… a pillow? Just a regular pillow that had been thrown at her. She looked back up to see Ragatha making her way towards her.

“Jax, you didn’t need to do that! You could have hurt her!” the doll scolded.

“Calm your stitches, Ragdoll. It’s only a pillow. Couldn’t hurt the new sucker with one of these if I tried.” Jax muttered, the rabbit’s ear twitching a bit in slight annoyance. He couldn’t do anything fun here, geez.

“You aren’t hurt, are you Pomni?” Ragatha asked, gently searching her face for injury. Pomni shook her head, her nerves hitting her again.

“Why are we here? Why do you have pillows?” Pomni asked, noting that Ragatha was holding one too.

“Hey, Kinger wasn’t using ‘em for once. He’s enjoying his little bug buddies, so me and Ragdoll decided to come up with a plan to make ya relax more.” Jax responded.

“Are you familiar with the concept of a pillow fight, Pomni?” Ragatha gently asked, smiling softly at the jumpy joker with her pinwheel eyes.

Pomni racked her brains. She used to have pillow fights with friends back when she was little. But trying to remember her life in the real, human world was becoming more difficult by the day. Pomni didn’t want to forget, but it seemed like that was an eventuality. She couldn’t even remember her human name.

I don’t wanna forget. But I can’t remember.

“Hey, shortstack. You still in there?” Jax asked, getting bored at Pomni’s long silence. “Don’t tell me we gotta teach her what a pillow fight is.”

“Shut up, Jax. Pomni? You in there?” Ragatha asked, keeping her voice calm. “Pomni, come on out of there. Don’t fall down the rabbit hole again.”

“S-Sorry…” Pomni stammered, coming back to reality again. She already had blushing makeup on her avatar, but Pomni still felt a slight red rush claim her pale face.

“Don’t apologise, Pom. You’re gonna be okay. Promise.” Ragatha smiled, and Pomni felt her shoulders gently untense the tiniest bit. Ragatha was very comforting in this strange world of whimsical wonder.

“This is all so adorable, but can we get this goin’ already?” Jax asked, holding a pillow in his arms.

“Oh yeah. So Pomni, basically this is just a way of goofing off, having fun, y’know? We’re gonna have a pillow fight. Pick up that pillow over there and when I say go, we begin. Okay?”

“Alright, sure…” Pomni said, going to where Ragatha instructed and scooping her feathery weapon off the ground. The pillow felt weirdly comforting in her arms. Maybe she could keep it.

“Alright. And… go!” Ragatha called, the three of them immediately whirling their pillows around. Pomni got a good few shots on Jax because of her smaller height, only for Ragatha to even the score. Feathers were comically flying everywhere, showering the trio in a fluffy rain. Ragatha was giggling, Jax was snickering, and Pomni slowly joined this melody of laughter as they whacked each other with pillows. This was actually… fun!

But feathers tend to stick, my friends. Specifically, tend to stick on clothes. And the first one to feel this was Pomni. She began to feel something lightly brushing at her collarbones and neck. She stopped and put her pillow down to try and pull these feathers from her clothes. Which meant she was no longer on guard.

And Jax hit her with a pillow. But he had sneakily opened his pillowcase and upended the feathers inside Pomni’s clothes. Pomni squeaked and started to wriggle immediately, the feathers brushing and reaching to more places the longer she wriggled.

“Ha! You look like a moulting chicken, shortstack!” Jax teased. Pomni’s laughter grew louder as she could no longer remain standing, the jumpy jester now lying on the floor and giggling to herself as these feathers were stuck deep in her clothes.

Jax chuckled at Pomni’s little predicament. “Welp. Guess that’s feathers one, Pomni zero.”

“Jahahahax! It’s tickling! The f-feheheheathers! They’re tickling mehehe!” Pomni answered back. Ragatha chuckled and put her pillow down, approaching Pomni with Jax in tow.

“C’mere, Pomni. Try to hold still, and we’ll see if we can get these feathers out of your clothes.”

“Ah, c’mon. Can’t we just leave her like this, Ragdoll? It’s much funnier seeing her laugh, you know~” Jax protested, a particularly shrill squeal from Pomni cutting off the next thing he was going to say.

Ragatha wasn’t listening. She gently sat on the left side of Pomni, as Jax took the right side. The two flashed a cheeky smile down at Pomni, as Ragatha saw the amount of feathers stuck in Pomni’s clothes. In her collar, her shirt, her sleeves too. And all the while, Pomni was lost in a world of tickle-induced giggles.

“Hehehelp mehehe!” Pomni begged, causing Ragatha to chuckle as she held Pomni in her arms, while Jax reached for the feathers. He snuck his gloved hands up her shirt and grabbed some of the feathers. He began to slowly drag them down her stomach as he worked to pull them out, taking his sweet time just so he could hear more of Pomni’s laughter.

“Nohohoho, Jahahax! D-Don’t dohohoho thahahat!” Pomni squealed, trying her best to squirm, but Ragatha held her still. Pomni’s legs kicked in an effort to release some of that ticklish energy. Jax just laughed.

“We’re tryin’ to help ya, kid. And you just keep laughin’! What’s so funny, Pomni? Are these feathers t-t-tickling? Are they, Pomni?”

Pomni felt herself blush even more at Jax’s words.

“No teheheheasing!” Pomni squeaked, trying to cover her face. But then Ragatha simply held Pomni’s hands in hers, preventing her from shielding any tickle spots.

“Your smile is adorable, Pom-Pom. Tickle, tickle, giggly jester~” Ragatha cooed, smirking mischievously as Pomni’s laughter increased on hearing the nickname.

Pomni could barely fight back. These feathers tickled like anything, and Jax removing them so slowly was not helping. Pomni was lost in a world of tickly feathers, and she just couldn’t do anything but laugh and half-heartedly squirm in Ragatha’s arms.

Yet somewhere in the back of Pomni’s mind, she supposed this wasn’t the worst thing to happen to her in the circus. Not by a long shot. Compared to everything else that had happened, this was actually… nice.

“Enjoying yourself, Pomni?” Ragatha asked, gently smiling down at her. Pomni nodded, and relaxed in Ragatha’s arms as Jax removed the feathers, pulling the softest, most honey-sweet giggles out of Pomni’s mouth.

“Y-Yeaheheh. It tickles…” Pomni murmured, giggling up a storm. Ragatha smiled.

“I know, Pom-Pom. I know.”

“Got to admit, kid. This is kinda adorable.” Jax continued. “Alright. Flip her over for me, Ragdoll.”

“Not my name, but whatever.” Ragatha muttered, flipping Pomni so the jester now laid on her stomach. The movement made the feathers on Pomni’s back move. Pomni was pretty ticklish on her back, so the jester’s laughter spiked. “AH! They’re ohohon my bahahahack! Ah, gehehet them ohohohout, Jahahax! Please!”

“Goin’ as fast as I can, kid. Just don’t move~” Jax challenged, even as he grabbed one of them, lodged at the top of Pomni’s spine. He gripped the feather and slid it slowly down her spine, enjoying Pomni’s reaction. The jester was absolutely shaking with laughter!

“JAHAHAHAX! STOHOHOP IHIHIHIT!” Pomni shrieked.

“Ha! Are you kidding, I’m not stopping for anything, kid! You’re so ticklish, it’s hilarious!” Jax fired back, but he still removed the feather. Once that one was out of the way, there was only a few left. But they’d formed a clump. A very ticklish clump, if Pomni’s choked back laughter was anything to go by.

“Ooh, Pomni. Hold on to Ragdoll, this clump is right on your ticklish little back. I’m gonna have to get them all at once. Ready~?” Jax teased, making a show of cracking his knuckles dramatically as he leaned over Pomni’s back, his fingers wiggling in preparation.

Ragatha held Pomni’s sides as Jax dived in, grabbing the ball of feathers and slowly sliding them down Pomni’s back in an effort to pull them out. Pomni pounded her fists on the ground, tears in her eyes from how much it tickled. She squealed and laughed like never before.

Eventually Jax pulled out the clump of feathers, finally giving Pomni some relief from those maddeningly soft tickles. She relaxed and sighed as Ragatha softly ran her hands over Pomni’s back, getting rid of the ghost tickles as she helped the giggly jester up.

“You sure are ticklish, Pomni.” Ragatha chuckled. Jax nodded.

“All that yelling, though. Think I’m deaf.” Jax joked. Pomni rolled her eyes.

Yes, life in the Digital Circus was strange, random, and confusing. But honestly, it felt good for Pomni to laugh and forget her problems for a little, even if that meant being at the mercy of a bunch of feathers in the aftermath of a ferocious pillow fight.

“We gotta do this again. What do you say, shortstack?” Jax asked, smirking. Pomni chuckled and made a non-committal noise as she walked back to her room. When she reached it, she opened her door and laid on her bed, staring back up at the ceiling with a soft smile on her face.

Maybe they could do this again, indeed.

The End! Hope you enjoyed!