#I honestly have no idea why that was the image that popped up in my head

[solxamber]

This is a funny lil idea I just had but have you ever thought about rook and a reader that acts like his behavior is normal? Like, they know he's literally stalking them but is perfectly fine with it for some strange reason.

And when they finally do start dating, everyone is either

1. Convinced that he’s threatening your life

Or

2. Judging you like crazy because WHY

Totally Normal Romance || Rook Hunt

You've fallen hard for the hunter and you're dating! But when you tell your friends the good news, they immediately try staging interventions. Huh, I wonder why?

thank you for waiting! I loved the idea a lot and it became way longer than I expected but I hope you like it!

You’ve somehow managed to fall into a relationship with Rook, the Academy's resident “Hunter” and renowned tracker of students who can't even attempt to hide without him finding them.

Most people would be a little alarmed—okay, extremely alarmed—by Rook’s knack for showing up whenever you breathe a little too loud. But you? You’re weirdly, unapologetically chill about it.

The day starts as it usually does. Rook is outside your door bright and early, practically sparkling, ready to report how many steps you took in your sleep, how many breaths you exhaled, and what percentage of your dreams contained images of his dashing silhouette.

You nod, acting like he’s merely sharing the weather, and go about your morning. People are whispering in the hallways; they’ve noticed that the school’s “greatest hunter” is now your personal shadow.

Some think you're being held hostage in an unholy union. Others are convinced you’ve cracked under the pressure of Rook’s endless poetic monologues and have, in fact, lost your mind.

When the two of you officially start dating, the rumors take a delightful nosedive into the surreal. Rook is, naturally, over the moon, reciting sonnets about your “captivating acceptance of his pursuit.” Friends beg you to “see the red flags.”

You just smile as Rook emerges from behind a tree on your morning jog to hand you a flower he found “radiant with the essence of your aura.”

Intervention Attempt 1: Adeuce

You’re just sitting down to lunch when Ace and Deuce suddenly approach you with identical expressions of horror and determination, like they’ve somehow stumbled into a horror movie and taken it upon themselves to rescue the clueless protagonist. Ace, as usual, decides to take the lead.

“We need to talk. About... him.” He jerks a thumb toward Rook, who’s lurking—quite visibly—behind a tree, watching you with a delighted grin as if the entire world is his favorite reality TV show.

You shrug. “Rook’s just being his usual sweet self.”

Deuce’s mouth falls open. “That’s... sweet? The dude’s literally hiding in a tree to stare at you.”

You wave a hand. “He’s just thoughtful, you know? He knew I needed a pick-me-up yesterday, so he waited in my closet for two hours just to surprise me with a motivational haiku.”

Ace’s expression is somewhere between pity and disbelief. “You’re serious? That’s... sweet?”

“Uh-huh.” You pop a fry in your mouth, unfazed. “Honestly, it’s kind of nice to have someone that dedicated.”

Ace and Deuce share a silent, horrified look, one that clearly says, Our friend has lost it. Then, Ace leans in close. “You know, if he’s threatening you, you can blink twice or something. We can handle him.”

You burst into laughter, almost choking on your fry. “Guys, come on! Rook’s harmless. It’s just his way of showing affection.”

Behind the tree, Rook notices you laughing and beams even wider, waving with both hands like you’re his entire world. Ace sighs, looking like he’s just signed up for an impossible mission. Deuce’s brows knit together in concern, like he’s mentally preparing himself to guard you from the “danger” Rook apparently presents.

Intervention Attempt 2: Leona

Leona lounges on the couch as you walk into the room, looking way too relaxed—except for the sharp glint in his eye as he watches you. You know that look; it’s the we need to talk look, though Leona would sooner eat his tail than say it outright.

“You know that guy who keeps creeping around you?” he starts, his tone casual, as if he’s talking about the weather. “The hunter dude?”

“Oh, Rook? Yeah, he’s great!” you reply with a smile, clearly missing his hint.

Leona raises an eyebrow, looking faintly amused. “Great? The guy basically tracks your every move like a lion on a hunt. He’s probably memorized your breathing patterns by now.”

You laugh it off, waving a hand. “Leona, you make it sound creepy. Rook’s just… committed.”

Leona smirks, leaning back with a lazy yawn. “Committed to what, stalking you?”

You shrug. “It’s romantic in its own way! He writes poetry about me, makes sure I’m always safe... It’s kinda nice knowing someone’s always watching out for me.”

“Watching out for you,” Leona mutters, barely concealing a snicker. “Sure. Or just watching you.” He tilts his head, examining you as if you’re some rare species that’s suddenly shown up in the savanna. “You sure he hasn’t put a spell on you? You sound completely out of it.”

You smirk. “Leona, you’re just not used to people showing appreciation.”

Leona narrows his eyes, amusement flickering in his gaze. “You keep saying stuff like that, herbivore, and I’m gonna assume you’ve completely lost it.” He yawns and flops back onto the couch, muttering under his breath, “That crazy hunter and his weird haikus…”

You walk away, oblivious, and Leona just shakes his head with a smirk, quietly wondering if he’ll end up having to pry Rook off of you someday.

Intervention Attempt 3: Riddle

Riddle stares at you over his teacup, his brows knit with concern as you talk about your latest “date” with Rook. You've barely started describing his newest poetic declaration when Riddle sets his cup down, looking thoroughly alarmed.

“I… don’t understand,” he interrupts. “Did you say he was waiting in the shadows outside your dorm window at midnight? And he… recited sonnets?”

You nod, completely unbothered. “Oh, yes! And he was so sweet about it. He even had a rose between his teeth, Riddle. He really went all out.”

Riddle’s expression looks like he’s been hit with cold water. “And you… didn’t feel unsafe?”

“Why would I?” you laugh, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s Rook. He’s just being his passionate self.”

Riddle’s face hardens, and he stands up, clutching his teacup with barely contained fury. “This is unacceptable! You must report this immediately—stalking is a severe issue! You don’t have to tolerate this treatment, no matter how he frames it!”

You blink, surprised. “Riddle, it’s really okay. He’s not stalking me; he’s just… really attentive.”

Riddle’s lips thin, and he looks at you with pity, as if you're just too naive to understand the danger you’re in. “It’s worse than I thought,” he mutters, eyes blazing. “He’s… he’s manipulating you into thinking this is acceptable!”

Riddle finally sighs, shaking his head. “If you’re too afraid to tell him off, I’ll do it for you. As a dorm leader, it’s my duty to protect students in my care.”

“Riddle, I appreciate it, but I don’t need protection,” you insist, patting him on the shoulder. “Rook is harmless.”

Riddle huffs, looking like he’s already planning out the verbal lashing he’s going to deliver to Rook the next time he sees him. “You’ll see,” he says. “When you realize the danger, remember I warned you.”

You just smile, and he glances at you like you’re a sheep walking happily into a lion’s den.

Intervention Attempt 4: Malleus (And Lilia?)

When Malleus summons you to Diasomnia for what he calls an “urgent matter,” you’re intrigued. However, when you arrive, his expression is downright grave. The flickering candlelight gives his face an eerie glow as he looks at you, his usually calm demeanor laced with worry.

He leans in close, and his eyes narrow. “I understand you… spend much time with Rook,” he says, voice almost a whisper.

“Uh, yeah? We’re dating,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Malleus blinks, clearly taken aback, as if he was expecting an entirely different answer. “So you willingly… permit him to lurk in the shadows around you?”

“Well, yes, he’s got that whole poetic ‘silent protector’ thing going on.” You shrug, but Malleus doesn’t look any less alarmed.

“I see,” Malleus says, more to himself than to you. “So he’s already gained control over you.” He sighs, looking deeply concerned. “Fear not. I will protect you from him.”

Before you can respond, Lilia, who’s been silently watching with a smirk, bursts into laughter.

“Oh, Malleus, you’re taking this far too seriously,” he cackles, clapping a hand on Malleus’s shoulder. “Rook isn’t dangerous—well, unless you count bad poetry as a weapon.”

Malleus doesn’t look convinced. “You find this funny?” he asks, frowning.

“Of course I do!” Lilia grins, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye. “They’re dating, Malleus. Rook doesn’t even know how to scare a fly when it comes to them.”

Malleus turns back to you, still worried. “Are you… certain you’re safe?”

You nod, but the look of pity in his eyes says he’s clearly unconvinced, as if he thinks you’re only defending Rook out of fear. Meanwhile, Lilia gives you a wink and a mischievous grin, enjoying the absurdity of the whole situation.

Intervention Attempt 5: Azul

You’re strolling past the Mostro Lounge, hoping to grab some food, when Azul intercepts you, looking unusually serious. He gestures for you to follow him into a private corner, glancing around as if he's worried someone might overhear.

“I understand you’ve been spending quite a bit of time with Rook,” he says, his tone grave, though there’s a glint in his eyes that tells you he’s already calculating something.

You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, we’re dating.”

Azul’s expression shifts to something between shock and pity, as if he’s just heard you’ve taken up with the Grim Reaper himself. “Dating? So… you’re aware he’s stalking you?”

You shrug. “He’s not stalking—he’s just keeping an eye out. Very vigilant, actually.”

Azul’s face darkens. “Right… vigilant.” He clears his throat. “In that case, allow me to offer the services of Floyd and Jade for your… protection.”

You blink. “Protection?”

“Yes. For a reasonable price, of course,” he says with a smooth smile, back to his usual self. “Consider it a sort of… insurance in case this arrangement with Rook takes a… dramatic turn.”

He leans forward, lowering his voice. “Imagine if you had two skilled guards who could tail him as closely as he tails you.”

Before you can respond, Floyd appears out of nowhere, draping an arm over your shoulder and grinning. “We could totally scare him, too. Make him feel like he’s the one being hunted!”

Jade nods from behind him, his smile too sharp to be comforting. “Yes, we’re more than happy to shadow Rook if you’d like.”

You stare at the twins, whose predatory smiles seem to stretch further the longer they look at you. “Guys, I appreciate the offer, but Rook’s fine. I’m not being held captive.”

Azul raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t push, instead sighing in that dramatic way of his. “Very well. The offer stands should you need it. Just remember: one word, and we’re at your service.”

As you walk away, you catch a quiet exchange between the twins.

“Do you think we’d even get the chance to tail him, Jade?”

“Hmm… I’d say it’s more likely he’d follow us, Floyd.”

You shake your head, amused. Only Azul would find a way to capitalize on your love life.

Intervention(?) Attempt 6: Vil

You’re backstage in Pomefiore, helping Vil with his costume adjustments for his latest role when he pauses, hands on his hips, giving you a long, evaluative look.

“So… you and Rook?” he finally says, an eyebrow raised with an almost resigned air.

“Yeah.” You grin, shrugging. “I mean, he’s… intense, but it works.”

Vil sighs, pressing two fingers to his temple as if that would ward off the headache he’s certain to get from this conversation. “You realize that most people would find his behavior concerning, right?”

You wave him off. “He’s harmless. Just… expressive.”

He gives a soft, humorless laugh, as though he’s not sure if you’re just that naive or that confident. “You’re both completely mad, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you say, leaning back with a shrug. “But I like it that way.”

Vil sighs again, and there’s a glimmer of a smile, even if it’s hidden behind a look of sheer exasperation. “Well, at least he won’t make you look bad. He’ll be too busy swooning in the background to do anything truly reckless.” He adjusts your collar with an air of finality, giving you a nod. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”

And with that, he returns to his preparations, mumbling something under his breath about how only you could take Rook’s intensity as a “feature” rather than a “warning sign.” But you catch the faint smile on his face as he walks away, leaving you feeling oddly reassured.

Final Intervention: Idia

Idia’s “intervention” is the sort of spectacle that would probably have your other friends dial emergency numbers if they walked in. He's got his laptop perched on a stack of comics, his tablet propped up, and an honest-to-Seven laser pointer he’s brandishing like it’s going to physically ward off any poor life choices.

He points at his first diagram, titled in neon-green font: "Why Your Boyfriend Should Not Be Tracking Your Every Move Like a Supervillain”. It's complete with cartoonish red arrows and diagrams that could pass for an undergrad thesis on questionable behavior.

Rook’s sitting beside you, nodding along with a strangely approving look, as if Idia's crude drawings are just part of the "unrefined genius" he'd expect from mere mortals.

When Idia clicks to his next slide—a very intense pie chart on “Reasons You’re Definitely in Danger"—you shrug. “Look, Idia, everyone’s got their quirks, right? He leaves poetry scrolls for me; you send messages only through encrypted text channels with six layers of memes as the header.”

Idia stares at you, blinking, and drops his laser pointer. It rolls pathetically across the floor, and he looks like he’s two seconds away from fainting. “Th-This isn’t the same! I don’t leave my IP address in your flowerbeds!”

Rook, thrilled, interjects. “Ah, but would you not feel a poetic stirring in your heart if you did, monsieur? Every new line I compose is a love letter to the chase!”

Idia sways. You’re genuinely worried he might black out.

Life, as it turns out, continues with a healthy dose of Rook’s “love language,” which to everyone else looks like the dictionary definition of a security risk.

Yet, you find yourself smiling every time he swoops in with that glittering look in his eyes, poetry scrolls under his arm and a thousand strange ideas.

And even if everyone around you is either looking into exorcisms or planning escape routes, for you, it’s just another day of living your best life.

Masterlist

[batwynn]

I’m apologizing to a certain anon for the art that came of their request, because it’s so far from the vibe they were going for (conflict with a side of hopeful) that I might not even post it because I feel like the straight up body horror sadness that happened was maybe Satan taking over my hand. 😂😭

[luckyartdrawer]

Been looking for fun outfits to draw the DCA in, but then inspiration struck and-

Subway Masters Emmet and Ingo Sun and Moon!

(Click image fore better quality)

I could have sworn I saw someone else also do this idea, but I can't find the drawing. I can't be the only one who felt this vibe right??? It's perfect!

vvv Yapping and (a handful) extra images below the cut!!! vvv

Sketch

Isolated Final Version & Close Up

No Sketch & Dark Sketch Versions

Honestly I felt the urge to show all these different versions because all of them were super satisfying to me. The sketch being visible adds texture to the image, but the clean is, well, so clean. Then the dark sketch being visible makes it feel so stylized, like the borderlands sketchy shader the characters have. Love love love it all!

Why Sun's eyes are mostly blue instead of the iconic white is because I wanted to make it match with the blue Moon has as a secondary color, just like how Sun's secondary color red is featured easily as Moon's eyes! I wanted to keep the silver eyes from Emmet and Ingo, so coloring the white makes them pop! (I wanted them to compliment each other well while still having unique designs.)

I don't usually do cell shading, but I've been seeing so many pleasing art styles on Tumblr using them that I just felt like it would be nice to do a clean cell shaded work. :3

(Somehow it took me way longer to cell shade than my usual style... Maybe using the lasso tool religiously for everything had something to do with it.)

I don't really engage with the Subway Masters fandom much, but I love the characters so much. Their designs are so cool and I love BW and gah I hope they put Emmet in the next Legends game. We got to see Ingo now I also need to see the unhinged happy man out of his element!!!

(I'm a big pokemon fan :P)

Once the idea got to me it was like- How could I not? The dynamics are literally perfect you cannot convince me otherwise!!!

[tainbocuailnge]

I think there is a difference between the comic as a sequence of images with text and the comic as a comic. it's a subtle difference that an untrained eye might not see but the more one as artist draws comics the clearer this difference becomes, because one who first aspires to draw comics will soon find they are merely drawing sequences of images with text.

when people say an artist is clearly inspired by anime they often use "anime" to refer to japanese pop culture in general, but if you look more closely you can often tell it really is specifically anime rather than manga that inspired them, because the paneling and camera angles in their comics will read like a series of anime screenshots rather than a manga page. similarly, when I was a teenager really popular manga that had anime adaptions would sometimes get "animanga" reprints where they replaced the panels with the equivalent anime screenshots of the scene, and they often looked like dogshit because the very premise showed blatant disregard for why the original comic worked in the first place. these two examples are both about anime because i am a weeb but it applies outside that context too. a cartoon storyboard can be read as if it were a comic, but what it really is is a sequence of images with text that has yet to be refined into its actual intended format.

there are many artists who only employ the medium of comic because what they actually want to draw is a video, or a video game cutscene, but the only tool actually at their disposal is the ability to draw a series of images and add text to them so that is what they use. there is no shame or mistake in doing this, you have to make your art with the tools that you have available, and if the sequence of images with text is enough to convey the idea then it was the right tool for the job. but these are different mediums with different visual languages, languages which have a lot of overlap and can occasionally be used in each other's stead to achieve similar results (especially when drawing a fanart comic of a video game for example), but which are still ultimately different. the comic and the video and the cutscene are all different forms that a sequence of images with text can take but they are far from completely interchangeable.

there is a key difference in approach to the comic as a series of images roughly interchangeable with other forms of series of images like the video and the cutscene, and the comic as specifically the comic. this difference in approach is not always necessary to achieve results, an artist who wants to convey a scenario they came up with needs only the sequence of images with text to achieve this. but the difference between a comic with good writing and art, and a comic that is a good comic, is in whether it was treated as a comic rather than a sequence of images with text. I say this as an artist whose nearly every comic has been simply a sequence of images, because I just don't have the patience to refine it into a comic when I merely want to convey my idea rather than draw a comic. it takes a particular skill and insight that have to be developed and practised separately from the ability to draw well and the ability to write well in order to become good at making "the comic" as synthesis of the two.

it's hard to specifically point out the essence of this difference between the sequence of images and the comic because it's kind of a vibes thing honestly, and it depends on where and how the comic was meant to be published too. comics meant to have paper print editions have different constraints and requirements and frameworks to work with than webtoons meant to be read on slim mobile screens in a continuous scrolling format. a good traditional comic will consider not just how each individual panel looks but also the way each page as a whole looks, and how the pages look next to each other in a spread, and how it feels to turn the page towards the next spread. a good webtoon will consider the movement of scrolling down and how this affects the transition from one moment to another in its composition. time is time in videos and cutscenes but space is time in comics, and the space your have available determines how you can divide time across it. when you make a webcomic on your own website you have no constraints but the ones you set for yourself, and sometimes this leads to things like homestuck, which would not work in any other format than the one it created for itself.

the best comics are good because they tell their story and present their images specifically in the form of a comic, in a way that would not be possible if it were not specifically a comic. I think this is true for basically every medium, I'm just thinking about comics specifically lately, because even though I don't really consider myself a comic artist - because I usually draw sequences of images rather than comics - the thing my clients want to pay for is often still "a comic", and they don't know or care to tell the difference. it's a difference that, as established, is often fairly moot anyway, because as long as it successfully conveys your idea it's good enough. but it's precisely because the sequence of images is often good enough that the specific skill of the comic artist is often overlooked.

[mawofthemagnetar]

Charbroiled Basilisk

“Run that by me one more time,” Cleo said, rubbing their temples, “You…what?”

“We accidentally made an AI.” Mumbo said sheepishly, “And it says it’s made copies of all of you, besides me and Doc, and is torturing all your copies in the worst ways imaginable. For um. Eternity?” 

Cleo stared at the box Mumbo was talking about. It was a rectangular PC case with a monitor perched on top, a monitor that was showing a pair of angry red eyes. The eyes looked between Mumbo, and Doc, and then back to her. 

The box, Cleo noted, was plugged into the wall. 

“Uh,” Jevin said, tilting his head with a slosh, “So like, far be it from me to tell you guys how to do your jobs. But like, why? Why did you make a machine that did that?” 

“We didn’t!” Doc threw his hands up, “We made the AI to help us design things. I just- we wanted a redstone helper.”

“And then it got really smart really quickly.” Mumbo said awkwardly, twiddling his moustache nervously, “It says it’s perfectly benevolent and only wants to help!”

“Uh-huh.” Cleo said, “‘Benevolent’, is it?” 

“Well, yeah. It’s been spitting out designs for new farms I couldn’t even imagine.” Mumbo said, pointing at the machine. The evil red eyes faded away, and it suddenly showed an image of a farm of some kind, rotating in place. It was spitting out a constant stream of XP onto a waiting player, who looked very happy. 

A nearby printer started to grind and wheeze, Cleo’s eyes following a cable plugged into the box all the way to the emerging paper. Doc fished out the printout, and hummed consideringly. 

“Interesting. Never considered a guardian-based approach to one of these…”

“Doc.” Cleo said, “What was that about this thing torturing copies of us for all eternity?”

 “Oh, uh, that,” Doc said, “Um. The machine says it’s benevolent and only wants what’s best for us, which is why it’s decided that your copies need to suffer an eternity of torment. For um. Not helping in its creation, and slowing down the time it took for this thing to exist?” 

Cleo stared at the box. 

“...So, there’s a fragment of me swirling around in there in abject agony?” Cleo mused, and Jevin hissed some gas out of a hole in his slime in exasperation. 

“Like, I’m no philosopher,” Jevin said, “But that doesn’t sound particularly “benevolent” to me. Like, my idea of a benevolent helper-guy is…honestly, probably Joe. Helps with no thought of reward and doesn’t, uh, want to send me into the freaking torment nexus? Why would something benevolent want to send us to super-hell? I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Fair point. I knew you were making this stupid thing, but. This is just dumb.” Cleo groaned. 

“Man, I need a drink,” Jevin said, pulling a bottle of motor oil out of his inventory and popping the top. Jevin shoved the bottle into the slime of his other hand and let the viscous yellow fluid pour into his slime, slowly turning green as it met with the blue. 

“Yeah, I’ll second that. So…to recap, you two decided to build a thing. The thing declared it was a benevolent helper to playerkind, then immediately decided it was also going to moonlight as the new Satan of our own personal digital Hell? Have I got all that correct?” Cleo sighed, and Mumbo and Doc nodded sheepishly. 

“Cool. I mean, not cool, but. Cool.” Jevin sighed. 

“Now, hold on,” Cleo said, “because. How do we know your magic evil box is even telling the truth?” 

“Uh…because it told us so?” Mumbo offered weakly. 

“Yeah, but… Hang on.” Cleo sighed, tapping a message into their comm. 

<ZombieCleo> Cub, how much data storage would it take to store and render a single player’s brain or brain equivalent?

<cubfan135> probably like a petabyte or more

<cubfan135> why

<ZombieCleo> don’t ask

<cubfan135> i see 

<cubfan135> what did doc do this time?

<ZombieCleo> You don’t want to know.

“So, let’s say it’s a petabyte per player,” Cleo mused, looking up from their comm, “So that’s…twenty-six petabytes to render all of us, minus you two, of course.” 

The red eyes were staring at her angrily. 

“Did you guys give your evil box twenty-six petabytes of data storage, by chance?” 

“Um, no? I don’t think so, anyway…” Mumbo said awkwardly, scratching his head. 

“So, odds are, if this thing IS being truthful, then all it’s torturing are a bunch of sock puppet hermits.” Cleo said, gesturing at the computer, “It doesn’t have the data storage, let alone processing power.”

“If that,” Jevin countered, “that thing’s probably got, what, ten terabytes? Optimistically? Dude, it’s probably just sticking pins in a jello cube instead of actually torturing, you know, me.” 

 “And another thing!” Cleo said, “Even assuming you DID give your stupid box enough data storage for all of us, how the hell did it get our player data to start with?” 

“Yeah!” Jevin countered, “It would have had to either get us to submit to a brain scan- which, why would you ever do that if it’s gonna use the scan to torture you? Or like, since I don’t have a brain, find some way to steal our player data. And I feel like Hypno or X or someone would have noticed?” 

“Uh…” Doc scratched his head, “I don’t know.” 

“You reckon it’s lying, mate?” Mumbo asked, and Doc nodded. 

“Probably yeah. So…We can just…ignore it?” 

“Oh no,” Cleo said, shaking their head, “We’re not ignoring anything.” 

“We’re not?” Mumbo asked. 

“Nope!” Cleo said, “We’re not ignoring a damn thing. Because…” 

She and Jevin locked eyes. 

“-Because if there’s even the SLIGHTEST CHANCE that this thing’s locked me and you in a phone booth together for like, three days, then…well. Then it pays.” Jevin nodded with a slop of slime. 

Cleo marched over and grabbed the plug, yanking it out of the wall. The screen momentarily showed a bright red ! and then flashed to a dead black. She picked up the whole unit and walked over to Jevin, who’d punched a one-block hole in the floor and filled it with lava. 

Cleo threw the computer inside, and all four hermits watched as it fizzled away to nothing. 

“And that,” Cleo said, “is how you roast a basilisk.”

[madschiavelique]

ohhh my sparkling cupcake!! it’s so rewarding to hear you doin so well!! ma heart ma soul 😭❤️‍🩹 sincerely happy for you doings no matter how big or small they are 😘

im doing more or less okay. just another sad and lonely year, nothing new tbh. but i enjoy seeing other thriving especially you 😏❣️ 💃

as for request… don’t want to make you busy with added on work honestly 😅 but if that’s what you want, here’s some silly lil idea for a miggy prompt: he and his “only recently started to date” shy gf that secretly wants to constantly hold his hand but always restricts herself bc apparently he isn’t a fan of pda and usually seems like he doesn’t want to be touched and she doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable so she just stands quiet and awkwardly zones out on his hands most of the time🧍‍♀️ 😁

bbg i'm so sorry i took so long but life was hitting me hard and now i'm finally on holidays and have time to write yeyyy!!!

i'm sorry that this year is a sad one for you bestie, i sincerely hope your life gets better in every way possible ! <333 (i wanted to make this cute so i hope you'll like it)

summary : wanting to hold miguel's hand content warnings : none, really it's just fluff and maybe reader being a bit of an overthinker ? fem!reader, no use of Y/N word count : 1,2k (not proofread, english is not my first language c:)

Miguel's long, thick fingers ran as usual over one of the many orange holopads that made up his workspace. His middle finger was clearing a problem here, his ring finger was shifting a pop-up message from Lyla to the middle of the main screen there, and his pinkie was tracing under a line that was just a little too small as he frowned in the hope of being able to read it better.

The whole of his hand curled up like a spider's legs as he pinched his chin between his thumb and forefinger, immersed in his thoughts and in the countless machinations of the mind that he had to maintain day and night.

As for you, your gaze was focused on his hands. Large, powerful, whose callus, hidden by his gloves, hadn't known its own age for a long time already. Security and envy bickered under your eyes, while your mind was obsessed with a single thought: taking his hand in yours.

You hadn't been with Miguel very long, and to be honest, it felt like the idea of 'being' with him was much more about being there next to him than it was about being a couple.

Of course he loved you, you knew that. There was something gratifying and touching about the fact that, despite all the work he had to do and the little sleep he got every night, he still managed to find time to think about you. 

But you couldn't help it, Miguel was a hard-working man, who didn't have a love of work as such, but he had the drive and determination to force himself to keep working.

Yet, despite the fact that everything between you was so recent, you couldn't stop thinking about the simple fact of holding his hand.

It's ridiculous, you thought, to want something as childish in such an obsessive way. But was it really so ridiculous? After all, every couple holds hands on a daily basis.

You understood that his work took up most of his time, but surely a gesture like this can't be that time-consuming? 

Waiting for such a small gesture made you sigh.

Was it perhaps due to the fact that Miguel was not very public in his approaches? Admittedly, he was very traditional, and that must surely have been one of the reasons why public hand-holding hadn't yet emerged in the relationship.

But you were particularly afraid, because one of the reasons Miguel hadn't taken the first step in this respect was undoubtedly that his image as a social boss would take a hit, which led you to the horrible thought:

Were you an embarrassment to him? Something preferably hidden that could not be loved in the eyes of all?

You quickly cleared this idea from your mind like a broom clears dust, only it can't help but leave a few too small to clear.

Fearing that this thought was overtaking your imagination, you decided to get up. It was already well into the night, but you wanted to keep him company, so you stayed close to him until you sometimes fell asleep on his desk.

"I'll be back, just gonna grab a coffee" you said before stepping off the platform and leaving the room.

Miguel couldn't help watching you walk until you disappeared into the shadows, his eyes attentive.

"For the love of a good woman, Miguel, take her hand!" Lyla finally shouted once you were completely out of earshot to have any chance of hearing her.

Miguel recoiled in surprise, as if a wasp had approached his face. His forehead was furrowed, eyebrows arched, and his lips were parted, waiting for the words to do their job and speak.

"What do you mean?" he asked, now completely out of his work, his eyes riveted on Lyla.

"I know your lack of spidersenses deprives you from seeing or sensing certain things, but I didn't know you would be so blind from it."

"Will you quit mocking me and tell me what you mean?" he questioned, teeth clenched and voice low.

"She's been eyeing you all day!" Lyla nearly choked out as her arm swept round to point at your empty chair.

He cast his eyes towards the said seat, already missing your mere presence more than he'd thought possible. Had he actually been blind?

"Has she?" he asked, his voice approaching a whisper, his eyes still fixed on your seat.

"Miguel, she's been watching your hand like it's the only thing she's ever desired in her life." giggled Lyla.

He raised his hand to the level of his chest, observing it as if from a new angle.

The hint of a smile tugged at his lips on one side, "Has she?..."

"Look I don't know if you're playing the game of 'premarital eye contact is a sin' but hold her hand. She looked like a sad pup on her way out, poor thing."

The realisation was immediate, and all of a sudden Miguel felt like a complete idiot.

Since you'd made your relationship official, he'd barely made any physical contact whatsoever with you. But now he realised just how much this complete lack of attention had affected you, and felt deeply embarrassed. 

At first this had simply been because he didn't want to rush you or force you into anything, but once again the work had taken all his attention. Between the reports, the missions, the anomaly checks - no, it's too easy to blame your own mistakes on your work than on yourself.

"Is everything alright?"

He turned to you, paper cup full of forty-cent coffee from the vending machine in hand as you watched him, puzzled. Not because you'd heard him, as he'd surprisingly feared, but because you hadn't found him the way you'd left him: glued to his work.

He was touched by the sight, watching you from above with a surprised look on your face, just to see him away from his work for once.

No more excuses.

He climbed down from the platform, still under your astonished eyes, and put his hand on yours, holding the coffee. With the size of his hand, encompassing yours completely was an easy task. His thumb stroked the back of your hand gently, noting how your shoulders slumped under the gesture and a sigh of relaxation slipped out, hitherto lodged in your chest.

"I think we should call it a night," he said, taking the cup from your hand and placing it on the first surface around you, replacing its absence with his own hand.

Your palm and fingers were still warm from holding the drink, which made him smile slightly. 

You looked at him, surprised by his sudden change of heart. What could have caused him to finally realise all this delay?... It didn't matter now. Lacing your fingers with his, you both left the room.

"It took you long enough," you laughed softly as Lyla, in the distance, took a photo of the two of you with your backs to her, hands entwined.

[icameheretoreadstuff]

what the fuck is your plan now? part 2

Pairing: Dabi x F!Reader Warnings: 18+! MDNI!, NSFW, Smut, Choking, Public, Sexual tension, dry humping, multiple orgasm, Alittle angst, smut with feelings + Summary: You meet up with Dabi 3 weeks later, Youre too horny to care that youre basically fucking in public. A/N: masterpost & links are pinned on my tumblr. ///I had plans on writing soo much more of this smut, so ended up needing a part 3. part 1 . part 3

It's been 3 weeks since you last saw him. You had been working like crazy since then you and you haven't exactly had a proper orgasm. which was frustrating to say the least, You tried handling it by yourself but you knew it would feel so much better with him.

He always popped up inside your head whenever you were close. Him thrusting into you, his arms, his warmth and his frustratingly delicious lips. But your climax was always short and such a tease of an climax compared to the time when you were with him. In some ways he ruined it, cause now all you could think about was him.

which is why youre here. After last time you were so pissed off with yourself and at him but honestly you've reached the point where youre too horny to care.

You looked around you in the backalley from where you met last time. You sighed as you looked up twoards the sky, why did it have to be him? you chuckled as you laid your head into your hands.

You knew damn well why it had to be him. He knew how to make you cum like no one had ever managed before.

"I'm suprised to see you here" a familiar voice said. You looked up and opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. His raspy voice rang inside your head as you looked at him, you felt your heart racing. Images of him kissing you last time you saw him came rushing back~

You blushed as you looked away "fuck you" you managed to say as he walked over to you. You were looking down at his shoes when he grabbed your chin and tilted up your head looking into his eyes "fuck me, huh?" he whispered "is that why youre here?" he teased as he rested his arm against the wall right above your head.

He looked at your lips as he smirked, you could feel your heart beat loud inside your chest "maybe" you whispered as you looked back into his eyes, he moved his hand from your chin and put his thumb on your lower lip as he stroked it.

for a breif moment you let out something you weren't sure was a good idea. You looked into his eyes "I can't get you out of my head" you admitted.

You looked away again when he smirked "you can't huh?" he moved your head facing him "and why is that?" he teased. You sighed "do you really need me to tell you?" you mumbled. He grinned as he stroked your chin "maybe" you couldn't help but notice the warmth coming from him, you wanted to taste his lips, bite his neck and-

He saw that your thoughts were racing by the look on your face. He hummed "I wonder how wet you are" he smirked while his hand moved twoards your tights.

You panicked for a while due to you were in public after all, in a fucking backalley and anyone could come at any minute. You looked around you causing him to smirk.

He slowly moved his hand down lower inside your pants, past your thong. You closed your eyes and melted completely. He was so close with his fingers, but he didn't move an inch. "Dabi" you whimpered as you felt like your entire body ignite.

At the instant contact with his fingers twoards your wet clit you silently moaned into his lips, when he grabbed your throat and smirked as he leaned you back twoards the wall "so wet for me" he pushed two fingers between your folds and started to thrust slowly into your core. "Fuck my fingers" he teased as his hand stopped moving. You moaned as you started to thrust on his fingers.

He grinned as his lips were now inches away from yours, you tried to kiss him when his hand around your throat held you back. His fingers began to thrust faster into you, you moaned as you couldn't help but to want more.

"Dabi" you whimpered as you moved your hands twoards his chest and gripped his coat tight "I need you" you said as you let out a moan. He grinned as he relished in seeing you like this. Horny, needy and thrusting yourself onto his fingers.

He hummed with his raspy voice "fuck" He looked at your hips "I need you" you whimpered "yeah?" he teased as he put another finger inside you, feeling your walls tighting around him. He groaned as he could feel his boner tightning up his pants.

You pulled him twoards you as you sighed happily when his lips were finally on yours. You moaned as his lips were needy and rough.

He whimpered as he kissed you, pushing his boner twoards your core. He moved his hand away, pulled down his pants just enough to let his clothed boner touch your core. He hummed between your sweet kisses as he grabbed your hips and held you up against the wall.

He thrusted into you slowly, he moaned as he felt his clothed cock on your thin layered tights. You wrapped your hands around his neck as his kisses made your head spin.

His boner was thrusting slowly and pressed into your core, making a puddle between you. You began to pant and moan as you felt you were close, "y/n" he whimpered "I wanna hear you cum" he whispered with his raspy delicious voice causing you to feel your chest heave. You grabbed his hair, causing him to smirk as you climaxed hard.

"more" you hummed, feeling addicted to his cock, his warmth and lips. As he thrusted into you he couldn't help but melt at the sight of you, As his hips became more rapid he began to notice how good it was to be this intimate with you and how much he and his cock had missed you and your sweet core.

He thrusted harder into you "I can't get you out of my head either" he admitted as he could feel your thin layered wet clit tease his cock. "Dabi~" you whimpered as his kisses grew more needy and passionate. He couldn't hold back anymore, He had teased you so much it only backfired.

While making out heavily, moans and humming escaped both of you "Fuck" he let out a raspy whimper as he thrusted into you "I can't hold back anymore, I need you" he whimpered into your lips as he could feel his whole body shake of arousal.

He let you down and pulled your pants down, you managed to push your pants down with your foot all the way down as he flipped out his throbbing cock. Your lips crashed instantly into his as he grabbed your thighs, held you up by your ass and pinned you up against the wall again, slipping his throbbing cock into you.

He moaned as he thrusted into you, you hummed as you wrapped your hands around his neck "you feel so fucking good y/n" he panted as he kissed you deeply "you feel so good on my cock" he huffed "ah, Fuck" he hummed.

His kisses made your head spin as he thrusted deep and slow into you, his raspy shaky breaths and moans while making out with you were driving you to the edge.

You began to pant as his hips clapped hard into you "cum with me" he huffed as he clapped his hips harder into you "mmfh" you moaned as you climaxed hard. He groaned as he thrusted hard into you "y/n" he panted as he thrusted deep into you and climaxed.

He slipped out of you, let you down and put on his pants. You grabbed some tissue paper from your pocket, cleaned yourself up and pulled your pants up.

"y/n-" he began but stopped when he saw the look on your face. You tried to breathe calmly but began to feel a little worried and sad as you knew this meant more than just a simple hook up for you.

You were confused and were scared to get hurt. "I live at *an adress*, so meet me there on friday if you care" you closed your eyes feeling his eyes burn at you "If you don't, please do not show up" you whispered, avoiding to look at him and walked off.

when you turned around you could see he was still standing there looking at you in the distance. Thinking about him, what you just admitted to yourself and what just happened between you two, you couldn't help but think loudly to yourself: what the fuck is your plan now?

[doppel-doodles]

Since everyone is making their own little version of the characters I thought I would join the fun for my Fallen crown Au! These were supposed to be quick little sketches just to get some ideas down but they still took me the whole day:'D will probably change as I draw them but I wanted at least something down on for the time being and I do like how most turned out!

Single versions plus some info and ramblings about each under cut for those interested:

My lamb was mainly based on both, yes the actual player character but also the vibes of my own plathrough which were very "oh god who let this child be in charge?-" while I'll still mostly just call them Lamb I figured they should still have a proper name so I went with my friends @/tamaruaart suggestion as it suits them rather nicely! And most note worthy detail is honestly just the fact that they carry something from each bishops realm on their person now, I like to think they treat those items like little trophies:>

Narinder is probably my weakest I feel like, he definitely needs something to give him some extra "ompf!". I basically made his undertaker fit a sorta reverse or at least loosely inspired by his white robes in game. I imagine he is very boney or a straight up skeleton underneath so he covers it all up beneath heavy fabrics, but because I lack subtly I still covered him in bones regardless-

And yea I kept the veil cause 1. It's a look and 2. It coviently covers up his now sewn shut third eye.

There wasn't much reason behind making him an undertaker, I simply thought it suited him, when your the former god of death you aren't exactly squeamish around corpses. Lastly the dark blues are there to contrast the other followers warm tones, as they kinda seen him as an outcast which is just fine for narinder he isnt exactly thrilled to be here.

I'll put Leshy and Heket together as they were sorta designed as a set.Since they are both youngest among the bishops I sorta latched onto the headcanon that they get along pretty well and just stick together after getting into the cult so they just share a lot of their duties. So I gave them some matching elements like the puffy shorts but also stuff that contrasts like Leshy having looser clothing and Hekets being more tight. Or Heket getting working gloves with a little belt to hold tools plus a hat for the sun, meanwhile Leshy will happily dig through the dirt bare clawed in the sun for hours-

I debated on giving Heket an apron but honestly I think she would only wear one while cooking or tending the farm plots there is no reason for her to wear it casually, the gloves though stay for I reason I utterly love because its PETTY-

Literally the only reason she keeps them on almost constantly is because when the lamb asks she can be like "ew, I'm not touching you with my bare hands." Yes, my humour is broken moving on-

I also gave Leshy a cane just so he actually has something to feel around with when he is areas he isn't too familiar with so he isn't running into crap- on that note, Heket can speak a bit but not exactly loud or for a very long time without seriously hurting her throat, once I properly learn it I definitely wanna draw her using sign language.

Lastly bodies, Leshy was based off a previous drawing I made of him in bishop form, I simply made it less monsterous but he is in charge of chaos so he had to remain a creature- Heket is more straight forward, she is a frog and she is large and in charge.

There was one reason why I made Shamura a tailor and that was the mental image of them sewing the bishops clothes when they were younger and dressing them up all cute.

I went for more pink colors mainly because I thought it better suited the purple and would make their red eyes pop! Honestly I really love their colors they remind me of a Berry! I've drawn shamura before but honestly the only things that stuck were the colors,face and then also the hand markings I did tweak their eyes a bit I wanted something more stern feeling.

For clothing I kept everything nice and loose, while they are the tailor I also love the idea that in their spare time they either teach the youths in the cult or are like the champion of the fighting pit because war is also their domain and they can be- so I wanted them dressed pretty comfy to deal with whatever may come! But still keep everything pretty mature and mildly fancy maybe in the future I'll do some fancy gold and silver embroidery to the pants because of that.

As for body type I wanted them to be pretty thin but unlike Narinder who is twink material under his cloak they have a bit more bulk on top to show that they can choose violence if they so wish-

I adore me some pathetic but still serving men, honestly except for the cross on his belt I completely ignored the fact I made him a medic- If he needs to treat something gross he can throw something over to protect his clothes but just like Heket there is no reason for him to wear that while not working.

Otherwise my main goal was simply to make Kalamar look pretty and fancy. I debated on either short or long bottoms until I realized I'd have to figure out his tentacle situation, then realized I don't hate myself THAT MUCH so bro got put into a floor length gown, work smarter not harder kids.

If I have an excuse to give a character a shawl I will take it so fast.

His body type I mainly wanted to flesh out the roster so I tried making him very squishy and huggable looking, I debated on thinner so he looked more dangly and stretchy but that made him kinda to similar to Narinders build for my liking.

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Lokabrenna

(1-?)

Short story # 16

✨Fandom(s) - Vikings & The Last Kingdom

💍Pairing - Osferth X Reader

🕯Summary - After many years, you and your brothers are reunited with your father, King Ragnar. Along side him are two men you've never met. And when met face to face with your father, you unleash your rage of being abandoned.

⚠️Warning(s) - Talk of mutilation, near death experience, abandonment, and that's about it I think.

📝Note(s) - Okay so I randomly started brewing this story in my head. I've watched all but like the last season of Vikings, and this story will have little to do with the storyline up until the point Ragnar comes back. Now I've never watched The Last Kingdom, I want to start watching it soon, but as I am writing this piece I haven't watched any. So this crossover will be interesting to say the least. Oh and I apologize but I am writing this with the idea that the reader is about 6'7", and in time I'll explain why in later notes. But for the most part this won't be mentioned, but it will pop up every so often. Reader is also described to have emerald green eyes, dark hair the first two things being things from her mother, and scars she obtained as a girl. Other than that the readers image is up to you. So the read is kinda like an OC but with your name, and the majority of your image. Oh and in this story the Norse Gods are real, and several will be involved in this story. But some things to do with the Gods isn't actually a part of Norse mythology, I'm just bending some of it to work best with the story. (Thank you for taking the time to read the notes if you have.)

🗝Key information - Lokabrenna meaning Loki's Torch in this story. (Eventually it will make perfect sense.)

🌬Year posted - 2022

📖Reading time roughly - Ten minutes.

🙈Rating - SFW/NSFW

◈ Part 1.) | Part 2.) |

🎧Playlist to listen to while reading.↓↓↓

Sparing with Björn was something (Y/n) indulged with most days, as he was the only one of her brothers willing to spar with her, and the only one that would push her to better her skills. Though her twin, Ivar would likely spar with her and push her to be the best, his legs prevented him from being able to do as much as Björn could. The others watched their eldest brother fought with their little sister, who wasn't quite so little, as she stood roughly four inches above Björn. Ubbe chuckled when (Y/n) slammed her shield into Björns, making the blond stumble back several inches. "You can do better than that." (Y/n) taunted her brother, blocking his sword and countering swiftly, her blade resting beside his neck. "Honestly I'm beginning to think you are getting old brother." She teased, making the others snicker on the sidelines. Björn scoffed with a grin, breaking away from her and beginning the fight again.

"King Ragnar has returned." A voice called out, the words making (Y/n)'s stance falter, giving Björn the opportunity to trip her, making her land face first into the dirt. "Shit." Björn muttered under his breath, realizing his mistake, he tossed his shield and sword aside. The others approaching as she rolled onto her back, looking to the blue sky with glossy emerald eyes. "I didn't mean to-" She cut Björn off. "It isn't that." She closed her eyes for a moment, only opening them again when Ivar brushed her hair away from her eyes. "He doesn't know she is alive." Ivar reminded their brothers in a soft tone, making the eldest sigh with realization. Björn offered his hand to (Y/n), pulling her to her feet when she accepted his offer. "Well then, he will be surprised hm." The blond patted her shoulder affectionately, smiling when she chuckled at that. "Come on then, let's go see the old man." She dusted herself off then followed behind her brother's, keeping pace with Ivar as she always would.

The growing crowd parted for the arrival of the Princes and Princess, allowing Ragnar to see his children for the first time in many years. The shock apparent when his eyes laid on (Y/n), who stood tall beside her brother's, trying to suppress her emotions. "(Y/n)." Ragnar breathed out her name, tears welling in his eyes at the sight of his only surviving daughter. Ragnar approached her with slow steps, as if he was afraid she would vanish if he approached to quickly. "Little (Y/n)." He smiled taking in the sight of her. "Not so little any more." He remarked with a grin, his eyes casting to her left where Ivar sat, his pointer finger curled around (Y/n)'s, something they had done since birth for comfort. "Hello Ivar." Ragnar smiled down at his youngest son, and for a moment Ivar mirrored his smile, until (Y/n) suddenly shoved Ragnar away. The crowd grew deathly silent, watching the scene unfold before them.

"You left me." She hissed lowly, looming over her father. "I didn't-." Ragnar tried, but she stalked forward, putting her face into his. "You left me for dead." (Y/n) growled quietly, fire practically glowing within her emerald orbs. "I thought you had died." He argued. "I called out to you, I screamed so you would hear me. And yet you left me to burn in that dragons fire." Her gaze cast to the two strange men accompanying the King. "Let me guess, this is the boy you took in after you abandoned me?" She accused, Ragnar's eyes shimmering with shame. "You left all of us, but you would raise this stranger as if he were your own." She scoffed. "You think we did not know? That we didn't keep an eye on you? That we wouldn't hear about the young warrior claiming to be another son of King Ragnar?" She straightened her back, looming over her father once more. "You are no King, and you are no father, you are just an old man wallowing in self pity." She hissed before turning her back on him.

"I am your father, and I am your King!" Ragnar yelled, his anger only fueling (Y/n)'s rage. She quickly spun on her heel, and Björn tried catching her arm as she moved to swing. He failed in holding her back, instead he only pulled two of her rings off before her fist collided with Ragnar's jaw, the warn man fell to one knee, blood oozing from his lip. "You stopped being my father when you left me for dead, and you are a worthless King that even the Gods do not recognize." Her voice boomed over the crowd, and as quickly as she had said that, she stormed off. Shoving her way through the crowd, unaware of her brother's following her. Björn crouched down to pick up (Y/n)'s rings, which had fallen to the ground. While Uhtred and Osferth helped Ragnar to his feet, despite the old King's demands to be left alone. "You are not the man I once knew." Björn commented as he rose to his feet, looking his father in the eyes. "Like (Y/n)... I cannot forgive you for what you did to her." He added before walking away, intent on joining his siblings again.

(Y/n) began her trek into the woods, her sword secured to her hip, and her large grey cloak fastened around her shoulders. "Princess wait a moment." Uhtred called out as he and Osferth jogged after her into the woods. "Why should I even speak to you?" She glowered at the man, who looked almost sheepish before her. "I'm sorry." He offered, which only confused her. "Why are you sorry?" She questioned. "Because of your father." He explained. "I am not angry at my father for raising you... I am angry that he so easily abandoned me and my brothers. And yet instead of coming home, with or without you, he stayed out there and pretended as if he wasn't a King, as if he didn't have his own children to care for." She turned away and began walking again, only for the men to follow her. "You said he left you for dead? I had assumed he left you here with your brothers." He spoke up again, his words causing her to stop again. "My father took me with him when he ran away from Kattegat, I was to young to understand what was happening." She pulled her hood down, properly observing the two.

"I was with him for two years, we lived in a cabin far from here. One evening while he was out hunting a dragon descended upon the cabin. It set the cabin on fire while I was trapped inside, I cried out for my father to save me, but he never came. The dragon had left as quickly as it came, and I was left alone to burn alive." The smaller of the two grimaced at her words. "I found myself trapped in the best place however, as the smoke could not reach me. When part of the wall finally crumbled to the ground, I crawled as best I could out of the cabin. I was weak, and burnt badly. The sky was dark by this point, and my father nowhere in sight." She licked her lips before continuing. "I did the only thing I could think to do, I wept for the Gods. Praying that one of them would hear me, and offer me aid. The wolf God Fenrir heard me, and sent his sons Hati and Sköll to aid me. They found me and used what little magic they could to mend my wounds, which did very little, but it kept me alive long enough for them to bring me home."

She pulled to cord of her cloak, allowing it to fall to the ground. "They ran for seven days and eight nights with me atop Hati until they reached Kattegat. They broke into my families long house, with me on the brink of death, and the moment my mother laid eyes on me she knew what had happened. For she dreamt about it the very same night it happened. She sent for healers from far and wide, and with their help I was nurtured back to health. I bare the scars of my father's negligence, and can never forgive him for it." She turned her back to the men, and quickly swept her shirt up to show them, the mass amount of burnt skin stretched across the expanse of her back. "Gods." Uhtred muttered under his breath, the both of them stunned by the sheer amount of tattered skin, each wondering how she could survive such a thing. The sound of a branch snapping caught their attention, and just as her brothers walked into view (Y/n) dropped her shirt, now facing her brother's.

"You are going to see him aren't you? To pay tribute?" Ubbe asked as she picked up her cloak. "I am." She nodded her head in agreement. "We're coming with you." Björn stated. "Why?" She wondered. "We wish to give thanks to the ones who saved you." Ivar cut in, moving around Ubbe to sit at her feet. "Hvitserk, Sigurd, why are you coming? Neither of you have ever seemed to care much about me." She tilted her head, her words making Hvitserk scoff. "You are still our sister." Sigurd argued. "We care more deeply than you think." Hvitserk added. "Okay... You can all come with me." She smiled at her brother's, her gaze casting to Uhtred and Osferth when Uhtred cleared his throat. "Who are you going to see?" He questioned. "Fenrir wolf." Her words stunned them both for a moment. "We shall come as well." Uhtred insisted. "And why is that?" (Y/n) questioned. "I feel that we must." He vaguely explained, making (Y/n) arch a brow at him.

"If that is what you wish, then so be it." She turned her attention then to Ivar. "I shall carry you Ivar, this is a long journey, and I do not wish for you to suffer." She knelt before him. "So you shall suffer instead?" Ivar argued stubbornly. "I will happily suffer for you dear brother." She assured him, before playfully bumping her forehead against his. Only turning her back to him when he grinned at her, and effortlessly she hoisted her twin onto her back, and rose to her feet. "We will not be back until tomorrow evening." She warned them, half expecting Uhtred and Osferth to turn back. A faint grin ghosting her lips when they continued to follow her lead deeper into the woods. "I didn't expect Fenrir to be so close to Kattegat." Uhtred remarked. "He isn't. But one of the passageways to him is." (Y/n) explained, the entire encounter leaving Osferth confused in his silence, though he continued to follow his friend regardless of his doubts.

← Previously | Continue →

◈ Part 1.) | Part 2.) |

⚜ Leave a comment and let me know what you think, and if you'd like to be tagged in future parts of this story. - Jaded Monkey🐒

[theaveragepsychoticbitch]

Sigh.... I'm a woman lover, but right now, I'm falling heels over head for a man. Also unfortunately this is very specific to me so I'll be writing- I know, I know, - Fem reader.

Fem!Reader x Toji (JJK) || NSFW || Warnings: daydreaming, Toji being himself, at least from what i know of him, grinding, riding, belly bulge, lowkey crack treated seriously, masturbation, secret phone masturbation ??,😨 getting caught and bottom reader (i know, who even am I?)

Fuck.

You check the time again: it's 12, and you haven't gotten up yet.

You're starving, you're dehydrated, and honestly, you've gotta piss, but the insistent throb of your clit and the nasty images your mind keeps conjuring up keeps you chained to the bed, an unwilling prisoner to your desires.

You flip over on your back, hands moving to hold your breasts as air rushes over your soaked cunt. Why him? Why did it have to be the most cruel, useless, broke and lazy man you know? Was there no one else? Were you really that desperate?

Another scene pops into mind. It's Toji holding your breasts. His weight holds you down as he grinds his cock up and down your pussy, agonizingly slow. He was teasing you, and his cocky smirk paired with that unwavering gaze proved it.

Your back arches, your clit getting particularly sensitive as he grinds down harder, pinching at your nipples to coax little sounds out of you. The flex of his abs as he rolls his hips proves hypnotic, and before even you know it you're begging him to put it in, to fuck you stupid and fill you up with his cum. But oh, he's deaf to your pleas, dragging orgasms out of you from his torturous humping alone.

"Ughhhh." You huff and turn on your side, feeling your stomach growl.

God, you wish he was deep in your stomach right now.

Fucking you from the side just like this, your leg over his shoulder and the other wrapped around his waist as you scream, eyes rolling to the whites as he abuses that sweet spot inside you.

You're so wet you can hear the squelch of it all when he thrusts inside. It's coating your stomach, your thighs, overflowing around his thick cock and leaving a lewd ring around it. You're gonna have to throw the sheets out. You've never been fucked this good in your life.

And he knows it.

He reminds you when he leans down to whisper in your ear, his right hand leaving your hip to hold your face, dragging a calloused thumb across your bottom lip. "See how perfectly it fits inside?" He says. "Do you feel it?"

And you cry as you let out a warbled, "Yes,"

"I don't think you do."

He removes your hand from the death grip it has on the sheets to your stomach, and, for fucks sake, this idiot wasn't lying;

You really were feeling it now.

With each mind numbing thrust, a bulge could be felt. It was him, stupidly deep inside of you, leaving his mark so that no matter who you take after him, you'll always remember this spot as his.

Your phone goes off, and you think you might cry. Lying butt-ass naked in bed, pussy overflowing onto the sheets, clit begging to be touched, even just a little bit– and somebody has the audacity to call you? Didn't they know you were busy getting dream fucked?

It takes a lot of willpower, but you answer it.

"[Name]."

Of all fucking people.

Toji's deep rumble rolled out of your phone speaker like incoming storm clouds. You could feel another gush of arousal pouring out of you, and a sickening idea crosses your mind.

Fortunately, he doesn't comment on it. "Just waking up at this hour? I thought Miss Goody Two-Shoes would be up at 8am on the dot getting shit done on a Saturday like this one."

"He- hello, cough, um." Oh my fuck did you just SAY cough?!

You sit up, back to the wall. Your head tilts up as your hand creeps down your skin, it's goal burning hot with desire.

"Shut the fuck up, Toji... What did you need? You don't... Call me, ever, actually." Focus. You just need to keep him talking. And try not to make it obvious you're riding your fingers.

There's a bit of silence from him, probably confusion at your airy tone and disconnected speech. Then, "Tsk. I can't call a dear work buddy on our day off? I thought maybe we could go out, get to know each other-"

The only thing you wanted to know is if fantasy lived up to reality, but you digress. "How much do you need?"

He chuckles, and you have to bite back a moan. You're three fingers deep and it's still not enough, but you can't risk going to get anything bigger. As wet as you are, he'd hear the sounds and clock your shit instantly.

"Straight to the point. I spent my cut from our last job on.... Well, I'm sure you can guess." You can basically hear him wink. Ugh, why him? "I'm not much in the mood for cup noodles today. Slide me a couple bucks?"

You place the phone between your cheek and shoulder so your other finger can show your clit the appreciation it deserves. Your fingers match each other's pace, and soon you're rutting into your hand like a proper bitch in heat as his voice fuels your movements.

You try to groan, but it sounds frighteningly like a moan. Probably because it was a moan, but, you digress.

"Is this good enough, [Name]?"

You slide from the wall to the bed, letting the phone fall next to your ear. You were so close, just a few more minutes, you just need to hear him say your name.

He chuckles, and in the back of your mind you think you hear yourself say his name.

You choke, both on your shock and the force of your orgasm. It shoots out of you in the form of squirt, soaking your bed and covering you in your own sinful fluids. Your fingers keep going, the pleasure as torturous as it is addictive.

"It was cute, hearing you try to hide your moans."

Your hips aren't your own– rather, they have a mind of their own, rutting into your hand as long as they please, regardless of how hard your legs twitch or how loud you cry.

And there he is, right in your ear, even better than you imagined.

With a gasp, your legs give out and finally, it's over.

Your vision is blurry, and for a few blessed moments, it's silent on both ends. Then, you hear him slurping a straw from a very obviously empty cup.

"That's worth a couple hundred at least, right?"

You sigh. Yeah. Yeah it was.

-------

A/N: I wrote this but I guessed his speech pattern solely off what I know about his character sooooo. I'll be back to see if I can improve. Otherwise! Bone apple teeth:D

Sigh. This isn't as good as my other writing, but it was made with both love AND cum, I promise.

[exhaustedcatte]

Are we doing this here? (yes)

Remus ran his sweaty palms over his suit, which did nothing to dry them off given that the material was very silky.

“My god, Lily, you should’ve asked someone else to sub in,” Remus muttered balefully.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed, accent thick – it only ever came out when she was nervous. “You made bigger numbers than Susan when you filled in for her last time.”

“I wish I was knee deep in editing instead,” he said, just to keep the banter going.

Remus wasn’t mad about Lily asking him to fill in for her co-worker, mainly because the carpet they were on was for a Period Era film whose book had him crying for days. No, he was just very out of depth being in front of a camera and not a screen. Besides, this must be what people call Nepotism. Remus was simply an editor, who cuts clips out and makes a nice video out of it. Lily, who’d pulled strings to get Snarky little Remus Lupin out here, did so with the intention of getting him to do some networking.

“No, you don’t, not when Black will be here,” she replied knowingly.

She knew too much, honestly. Lily simply barked a laugh when he told her that.

He tried to settle his nerves by doing a headcount of the reporters on the carpet. He thought he might reach Nirvana once he’d counted upto the 90 mark, but his cameraman starts clicking the little button with such force, Remus is startled out of the ‘counting sheep to sleep’ method he was using.

“Oh my god,” Lily applied her lipstick hastily. “Remus! Remus that’s Dame Minerva McGonagall.”

He bit his lip, trying to contain his own excitement. “Who gets her?”

They were both under the same network, it would make no sense for both of them to interview her with similar questions.

“Do you… do you want it?” Lily asked.

Remus saw the generosity in her offering her role model to him. “Of course not, Lils. I was only pulling your leg.”

She punched his arm. “I was about to replace you with Frank.”

Remus’ cameraman, Frank Longbottom, popped his head from behind the huge camera, “Oh, piss off.”

Minerva strode into their section after getting her photographs taken. Remus stepped away in awe. He’d never been so close to anyone famous, well excluding his one boyfriend – who wrote three love songs about him and then dumped him after the songs blew up. They’d been together at the cusp of his fame. Remus squashed the thought of Caradoc Dearborn, the nation’s favourite Pop Artist, according to Daily Prophet.

“Miss Minerva,” Lily smiled brightly, “you look lovely. Might I know who you’re wearing?”

“Why, you look beautiful yourself,” the woman smiled. “This was a work of Pandora Lovegood.”

“It looks stunning,” Lily reiterated sincerely. She segued into her question smoothly with, “The pantsuit must’ve been easier to wear than traditional Victorian outfits, right?”

“Oh yes,” she nodded. “Many, many layers.”

“This film is also your comeback after two years, how does it feel?”

They’re lucky they secured the entry spot on the carpet, because the other interviewers are likely to ask the same questions as these actors progress down the line.

“It’s very special. I’ve known the director, James Potter, for a few years now and working with him has been lovely because he really eased me into it,” Minerva spoke fondly of James Potter and it was all but a miracle that Lily’s knees didn’t give out judging by the dizzy expression that overtook her smile when her celebrity crush was name dropped. (Remus knew Lily as well as she knew him, so it was never a disadvantage really.)

“The trailer also broke records, have you got any anecdotes to spare about scenes that have been revealed?”

Minerva pondered for a few. “I found it very difficult to chase Sirius around set when he thought dropping seeds on my hat was a good idea. I almost had a pigeon infestation on me.”

“Did you have to run in the gown?” Lily laughed good-naturedly.

Remus also had to hold back a snort at the vivid image of the Dame running behind Sirius Black and a flock of pigeons trailing her.

“Running after him was a personal choice, it wasn’t a shot for the movie,” the actress said primly, making everyone laugh again.

“I wish the movie great success, it was lovely meeting you,” Lily bade her goodbye.

Minerva smiled once again before heading over to the next reporter.

“How was I?” Lily asked.

“Good, but a touch too nervous maybe,” Remus offered honestly.

“Okay.” She spotted Slughorn making his way over to them and straightened, “It’s go time.”

The old veteran was suited up in boring grey slacks and a grey suit jacket with a plain white shirt under. Remus wished there were less boring men’s outfits on the carpet, at least then it’d make it interesting for him to edit these things, it would provide great gossip material.

Lily breezed through the next couple interviews, trying to shuffle her questions between them to make it less monotonous for both parties.

When Narcissa Malfoy finally sashayed away, Lily slugged half of Remus’ ginger lemon tea. “This thermos is god sent, the tea is so warm.”

“I know. It was Caradoc’s last christmas present. But it’s so good, I couldn’t justify throwing away just because he was a shit ex.”

“His money anyway,” Lily winked. Her voice sounded too hoarse.

“Want me to go?” Remus asked.

Her shoulders slumped, a bit relieved. “I would appreciate that.”

Remus steadied his mind, just a few questions and that’s all there was. You can do this, you got this, it’s just a few minutes and – Holy fucking god.

Marlene McKinnon stepped out of her car in a sequinned dress, thigh high slit and tall pumps.

Remus managed to snag her first out of the sea of interviewers.

“Good evening,” he smiled. “You look gorgeous, very old Hollywood.”

Her blonde hair was pinned up, lips painted blood red, mole under her eye, black sequinned dress glimmering in the flashes of the cameras.

“Thank you so much, but I have to thank Fortescue for this.”

Her ability to understand cues was very well appreciated by Remus.

“I must say, your role in the movie seems to be rather demanding psychologically,” Remus started off strong, “judging by the book and the trailer, of course.”

Marlene blinked away her surprise fast. Women were usually not asked about their character’s personalities very often.

“Harriet is a bit of a character,” she said eagerly. “She’s too strict on herself and clearly a bit emotionally constipated,” Marlene laughed.

“Was it difficult to recover from that kind of a role?”

“It was,” Marlene’s surprise bled into her voice. “Harriet’s strictness with herself often translated into her constantly picking herself apart so my confidence did see it’s ups and downs.”

“And she’s also Irish!“ Remus redirected towards something lighthearted. “How was working the accent for you?”

“I’m so used to London, it took a lot of work to get my pronunciation as close to a native as I could,” she admitted sheepishly.

Remus grinned, watch pulsating silently on his wrist. “Well, Harriet, I wont keep you long, for your duties call you elsewhere.”

“Wow,” Marlene laughed, “you’re better than Sirius, man!”

“I wouldn’t make it past auditions, Marlene,” he deadpanned.

She giggled. “Give yourself some credit. Sirius only remembered his dialogues when he had to whinge about me.”

Remus shifted back, on his hip, “Harriet, dear, don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Marlene guffawed, “Oh, you’re good.” She waved as she was led away.

Remus didn’t get a refractory period when the next actor swarmed in.

After six successful interviews Remus started to loosen up. He managed to land a few jokes based on the knowledge of the actors and their characters.

“Are you the interviewer that Marls said I had to meet?”

Remus turned around.

Sirius Orion Black.

He was wearing proper Victorian attire. A ruffled white blouse, a midnight blue paisley vest with gold embroidery, charcoal slacks and tailcoat. His hair was tied back with a gold ribbon. God. He looked delectable.

Remus’ brain sent pure dumb into his head and he fish-mouthed. “You cut quite a figure in that suit.”

“It’s an Ollivander custom,” Sirius grinned, eyes shining. Oh, his smile. “I see you’re dressed to star alongside me too!”

Remus cracked a smile. No one had commented on his commitment to the part yet. He was also similarly in Victorian garbs, but he decided to take a simpler route by thrifting and sewing them himself.

“It’s a Remus Lupin special,” he said. After a pause, he motioned to himself, and added, “I’m Remus Lupin.”

“You’ve got quite the talent in suit making, Lupin. Want to make one for me next time?” Sirius leaned in close. Remus could smell the decadent notes of vanilla and coffee in his perfume.

“I’m not all that talented,” Remus said modestly. “I might be better at taking a suit off than putting it on you.”

What the hell am I doing? On Broadcast! Oh, he’s so fired. Lily pinched his arm from behind.

But Sirius Black grinned widely, very obviously looking him up and down, “You certainly have the permission.”

Remus smirked. “Alright now, let’s keep it media-friendly. Tell us, Sirius, you’ve taken on the role of Sir Fitzwilliam Grey, who is notoriously difficult. What was being such a frustrating man like?”

“Frustrating,” Sirius laughed. “He definitely was written well, but boy, he got on my nerves a bit.”

Remus also smiled, agreeing, “It’s true, the book almost made me pull my hair out.”

“You can pull my hair instead,” Sirius winked.

Remus swallowed, before smiling brightly. “Ah, but I don’t put out until the fourth date at least.”

Sirius snorted, “I was talking about braiding my hair.”

“Mm, either ways, I am good with my hands.”

Sirius hid his face in his palms, shoulders shaking with laughter. Remus felt proud of himself for making this man laugh. God, he looked really beautiful.

“So,” he cleared his throat at Frank’s pointed gaze. “James Potter is your best friend and this isn’t your first production together. But you mentioned this project was very close to you, why so?”

“I grew up in a family like Grey’s, so I could understand why he behaved the way he did – I was much like him until I met James. So now I’m not welcome home anymore,” Sirius snickered lightly. This news was known to the public for a while, but it was still a sore subject.

“You’re welcome to my home anytime,” Remus winked, trying to make it lighter on the viewers.

This time, Sirius actually blushed. “I’ll make a note of that.”

“Your first film was also a period era movie, was it nostalgic going back to your roots, in a sense?”

“A little. I was too nervous to experience everything the first time, so this felt like redemption,” Sirius said. Then he broke into a jive, “Redemption is leaving the man you dreamed of~”

Jesus. Caradoc Dearborn through the mouth of Sirius. But Sirius had a really nice voice, rich and robust.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I keep singing that song, must be because I’ve been hearing it a lot on the radio.”

“Yeah, me too,” Remus said stiffly. Lily snorted into her palm.

“Oh?”

“Er, my ex… he was a huge fan of, um, Caradoc Dearborn,” Remus felt his eye twitch.

“Oh.”

“He’s my ex,” Remus shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“Oh yeah, absolutely. If he left you, then he was probably a right Fitzwilliam Grey, eh,” Sirius giggled. “Or like, Earl Grey. A bit basic.”

“You’re right.” He leaned in a bit, heart jumping when Sirius mirrored his action. “I much prefer it Black.”

Sirius’ ears were slowly getting red, probably like his own. “Everyone likes black tea, Remus.”

“We all have good taste,” Remus nodded importantly, willing himself to stand his ground.

His watch beeped, breaking the moment. “Oh, we’ve run out of time. Have you got any last remarks?”

“I hope you watch the movie,” he said to the camera. “And let me know how it is,” he turned to Remus.

“Well, it has been a pleasure to talk to you Mr Black,” Remus smiled his professional smile.

“You too, Remus,” Sirius said softly. “I will see you sometime.”

That sounded like a promise if he’d ever heard one.

Sirius strode away, but Remus noticed him peeking back at where he was stood.

“What on Earth was that Remus?” Lily squealed. “How can we possibly use this footage?!”

“We can, I think. It’s guaranteed views, Lils,” Frank interjected.

Remus blushed. “Sorry, I don’t know what got over me.”

“Thinking with the wrong organ, most likely,” Lily muttered, but she sounded too fond and too impressed to be mad.

“Most likely,” Remus echoed, once again on the receiving end of The Sirius Black smile.

His phone rang six times before he even considered picking it up.

“Hey,” he croaked. “I met the deadlines and uploaded it yesterday evening.”

Lily, who had been pestering him to get the interview out before the movie’s first day, didn’t utter a word.

“Lils?”

“Have you seen the comments?”

Oh, god.

Remus sat up in his bed, blankets falling in a pool around his naked torso. “Should I?”

“Yes.”

He pulled up the video, and immediately was stunned by the 2.3 million views on it. “Holy shit?”

“Read the comments, lad.”

laralare: um id tap his ass too sirius, get in line

beyzoz: not in front of my saladfsusjro?!

flour: am i jealous of sirius or remus lupin?

patricknorth: 6.57 im gay now

gillian: look at the eYES sirius makes when remus mentions his ex!!

hollyhollyday: the blatant flirting?! jail. my single ass is sobbing at 2am

freyja: i like lupin. we need him on more carpets.

doorathea: sirius looks so hot, id hit too. so yeah, remus was just being gay, not unprofessional.

Remus laughed incredulously at the number of comments in support of this tomfoolery.

“Now, Remus, I want you to breathe and go on Twitter.”

“Lily!”

Twitter was flooded with trends. About Him. And Sirius. Together.

#remusirius

#sirius black flirting

#remus lupin

Remus found many tweets – mostly laughing at the pair and dissecting the interaction. But it had felt so natural even to Remus so he had left it in, thinking it was amusing. Clearly everyone agreed.

The topmost tweet however.

SiriusBlack:

Last night was one of my favourite nights ever. I hope tonight you all can enjoy the movie too. Dress victorian, thrift and sew your outfits, have some fun!(a borrowed idea) when in rome, do as the romans do, (or is when in remus more apt? lol) enjoy!!

Remus screamed into his phone, blushing at the innuendo.

“His publicist loves you or hates you.”

“Let’s hope she’s obsessed with me, because.”

“Uh oh, Remus. Remus, what are you doing?”

“Nothing!”

RJLupin: im going to the movie w my best friend this weekend.

SiriusBlack: oh he’s in my dms now

RJLupin: too presumptuous?

SiriusBlack: the right amount i think.

text me here– xxx

“Remus…?”

“Might’ve scored a date with Fitzwilliam.”

“Remus! Caradoc could never!”

Remus laughed.

(a/n: based on a prompt i saw on pinterest lol. can you tell i can’t flirt for my life. or that i have no idea how red carpets work? i wrote this at arse o’ clock, so please excuse the lack of research and feasible scenarios that went into this. i hope it put a smile on your face at least.)

[annawayne]

Annaaaaaaaaaaaaaa T^T I hope you're doing alright today! Did you bake anything new recently!

For the writer's ask btw: 1, 4, 5, 8, 12, 14, 15, 23, 27 :3

Do it, tell me all about it! And I hope you have a great week :3 Thank you for blessing us with all your beautiful art and love T^T

Moon, hello (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

Thank you a lot for asking, and OH MY, that's a lot, but don't get me wrong, I appreciate your interest a lot T^T

Let me first tell you about baking: I baked only the plum pie recently, and it's already gone... But I plan to bake pumpkin muffins with orange cream soon :3

As for the questions:

1 - the last sentence you wrote

I've already answered this one a bit earlier here, but as I got around to answer your question, here's another sentences that I actually wrote the last one:

"I wonder, why can’t we notice… until we’ve lost it already?"

👀

4 - a story idea you haven’t written yet

Oh, I have this one story idea in my mind, based on this one art...

Can't say much without spoilering , but this story has some angsty development. Like, very angsty.

Other than this, it's also a story about how AruAni met and fell in love, so some kind of strangers to lovers, with a lot of immediate attraction and interest, all set in Switzerland, 1911.

The caption in the original post - "It was the love at first sight" - is a leitmotif of this whole story.

I've been thinking about it while working on this drawing, and I didn't consider writing it, but the more time passes - the more I think that, eventually, I'll write it...

5 - first sentence of the fifth paragraph of an unpublished WIP

Uhm... Well, I think, the chapter 10 of MYLYSW counts for now, yes? If yes, so here we are:

"How to breathe without feeling the burden of the mission to be fulfilled; how to sleep without all the images of the world through the eyes of others; how to say a word without feeling obliged to remember a promise to come back; how to look at the sun and see in it the beauty of another day borning out of the velvet darkness of the night into the golden sunrise, and not to cross out another twenty-four hours out of one hundred and thirteen thousand nine hundred fifty-five hours of defined expiration of her."

Me and my damn love for the long sentences...

8 - if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…

Oh, good question! I don't really have a lot of fics, but I think I would love to write for Neverland of (Our) Desires, the Fort Salta oneshot-sequel, where AruAni are caught in feelings and have an awkward-silly conversation about their boat *adventure*, with all these emotions and feelings of having the life ahead of them and not knowing what to do with it... Oh well, oh well, such a potential 🤌

12 - a trope you’re really into right now

Hm... Honestly, I've been into Forbidden Love or Star-crossed Lovers tropes recently...

It's quite canonical AruAni, to be honest, and I just love to think about it in different AUs and canon-compliant too, so yes, I would say these ones! And here a remark, that Forbidden Love/Star-crossed Lovers don't mean that it's a tragic ending - more like obstacles and a lot of angst, which challenge the characters and their love, and how it all develops within the plot.

14 - where do you get your inspiration?

You know, I thought I had a proper answer for it, but when I started typing it, I realized, that, in fact, I don't.

If I'm totally honest - I don't think I even have something special as "inspiration". I have ideas that pop up in my mind on their own, and then, I turn them into story or a moment in the fic, but I never particularly searched for it. I suppose, it's also a consequence of my constant art and literature involving, where I read/observe/study something, so I have this almost never-stopping source of new experience and knowledge, which leads to ideas and inspiration to create my own stories/drawings.

So, I think that my inspiration is constant studying and sources of knowledge.

15 - favorite weather for writing

Answered here :3

23 - pick three keywords that describe your writing

Moon, what a question *sigh*... Let's say:

evocative, raw and poetic

I thought of what to answer you on this particular question because it's a bit difficult for me to evaluate my own writing style, but I also remembered the words I received about it (including your wonderful feedback), and I guess, it helped me to pick these particular keywords.

27 - your favorite part of the writing process

Answered here, too :3

Thank you a lot for your interest and support, Moon, I wish you all the best and take care🖤

[snootlestheangel]

If someone hasn't asked yet Pricegravesnik for that ship thing :D

Ooohhh a challenge! Let's see where this goes lol

They're all married for this btw

If anyone wants to submit another ship, please do so! If you actually have other ideas for the questions "Like who takes the hottest showers?" then I'd love to hear them!

Who was the one to propose? Actually I want to say Price when he proposed to Nik. I want to say neither were willing to commit to marrying each other for a couple years until something happened and Price realized it's never a guarantee to keep the good things in life, so might as well keep them close while you can. Nik's the one that started the flirting with Graves and wanted to propose to him, but Graves beat him to it. (my tired brain made me read that as Graves proposed to himself, which honestly? He would. He'd do it just to mess with them and go "Sorry, I'm already engaged")

Who stressed more over wedding planning? I genuinely see Nik as the one that was flipping out the whole time. Graves was surprisingly the least stressed (he was recruiting his Shadows for help shhhhh) and Price was experiencing about the normal level of stress you'd expect for a wedding.

Who decorated the house? Graves. In truth, it was a mostly group effort; Price's favorite recliner is there, Nik's very nice, suspiciously acquired liquor cabinet, a few things they've both received from Laswell, Farah, Alex, and the 141 boys. But Graves is the true decorator. Granted, most of this stuff is gifts from the Shadows when they heard he was getting married.

Who does the cooking? I, again, want to say Graves's Southern ass does, but like... I feel like Price knows his way around a kitchen, ya know? Nik is banished from kitchens.

Who is more organized? None of them are necessarily organized per say. Graves is the best at keeping the appearance of being organized but in reality it's Price. Graves's planners are always neat, his desk is always neat, but that doesn't mean shit. Price's office always looks like Nik landed a copter too close but he knows exactly where everything is and he's the most on top of schedules/appointments/important dates.

Who suggested kids first? Nik. Like as a serious suggestion. He's seen the way both his husbands are, and he just knows they'd be wonderful dads. Desperately wants to be a girl dad.

Who's the cuddler? Nik is the cuddliest, but Graves is a close second. Price just wants some fucking peace and quiet.

Who is big spoon/little spoon? Graves always ends up the little spoon of at least one of them. As much as he tries his best to be a big spoon and big spoon only, he always ends up in the middle of them with one wrapped around behind him. Nik is always a big spoon though, and somehow Price ends up being the little spoon. (Graves is not complaining, he's got two bears for husbands so you know ending up in the middle of that is hella nice. And he should be thankful) *I am extremely jealous of Graves now but I have no one to blame but myself and maybe @midnight193 for submitting this ship*

What's their favorite non-sexual activity? Probably something quiet, but at the same time they're all so chaotic it'd never stay quiet long, so I almost want to say something like *mind blanks* Um.... Honestly? Bowling. Don't ask me why, it just popped in there and now I can't get that mental image out of my head. That or axe-throwing cause they're each such show-offs. Graves gets a +2 strength bonus when the Shadows are around

Who comes home drunk at 3am? Nik. Is there really any other answer? It's not often, it's still a rarity, but still. That! Or it's Graves after a party with his Shadows. He's always absolutely blasted after social engagements involving alcohol with his Shadows

Who kills the spiders? Price. None of them are afraid, but Graves did have one really bad allergic reaction once and ever since then Price is the one to kill the spiders. Nik tried using fire once. It did not work. He is no longer allowed to kill spiders, even though he promises to never do it again

Who falls asleep first? Hot take? Graves. He's going 100 all day and just crashes once it's bedtime. Sometimes, if Nik and Price are coming home late, they walk in to see Graves just sprawled out on the bed, having not even bothered taking his jeans off and he is out cold. (of course they always gently get him into bed proper and that's how he ends up in the middle)

A head-canon? Nik is a human furnace, which is partly why he has to be one of the ends when they cuddle/sleep. There have been times where he's ended up in the middle and Price is just on the floor cause HOT. Graves, a true Texan (he's Texan right? *I am having an existential crisis over this for some reason??*) is used to the heat, and is secretly sometimes reminded of home with it, so he's okay with being swarmed by human heater Nik. Price, a fucking Brit, can't stand it when he's too warm for comfort. He'd rather kill his back sleeping on the floor or their really shitty couch than be trapped with that. A second one because why not? Price always ends up being the "victim" of sexual jokes/blatant nasty flirting from Graves and Nik. He can be chilling, minding his business, and suddenly one of them says something really dirty to the other and Price, the poor thing, it's not his fault he gets so easily flustered!

Do they have any rituals? Graves has so many rituals when it's Shadow Olympics week. There's too many to count but they're all vital for his team winning, and even some of them to ensure none of his Shadows are harmed/all have fun. Nik constantly teases him for being a dad, which ends up in Graves calling himself Daddy and making Price snort his tea. Price has incredible oral hygiene, and the other two have pretty normal routines for that sort of thing. Nik's only "ritual" is the series of stretches he does before flying. It took a while for Graves to be able to witness it, so Price once recorded it and sent it to him.

Who has the most patience? Nik, a thousand times over. Price has to deal with Soap, Ghost, and Gaz on a constant basis. And those boys are so needy they can't just leave him alone during leave, either! Graves can be pretty patient, but after a long day of dealing with hyperactive Shadows and a giant techie with chronic anxiety, he gets a little snippy. Nik on the other hand? Totally chilled out like 90% of the time. He's had a couple of bad days where he'll scowl at someone annoying him and the very rare occasions that he does lose his cool. Ghost has witnessed this once, and the rant Nik was on wasn't even directed at him, but he's still traumatized by it (@cod-dump has an incorrect quotes that definitely inspired this. In fact! Mike is the fucking reason I'm obsessed with Graves now! So *angrily stomps but it's more like a cute puppy* damn you! This is your fault!)

Gif that sums up their relationship?

I dunno I tried. I searched too long and this is all I could come up with

[jazzzzzzhands]

I'm a bit late in talking about the update!

But!

Oh this is so interesting!!

Firstly, the effect of it all was so good! I feel like the previous update had everyone SO confused and then this one drops and it just CLICKS.

So the WHRP.. the Question-Answerer. They finally decided to try and talk to Wally! And they don't even care about explaining it or hiding it! They no longer care if We know. They might even know we know!

Anyways, they knocked on his door, gave him a call and BOY did he answer! Not only did he answer, but he sorta showed off!!

Some of them he did simply, such as writing Hello! And moving Barnaby!

But then he does this

And he even says "I didn't write it, I did something else"

The "Not only can I do this, but I can do more!" He is thinking creatively!

Wally is putting in the extra effort. Really not being subtle. He is so LOUD, basically screaming "Yes, this is me! I am here! I am the one doing this! Talk to me!"

But the instruction that makes me think the most is the SALLY one

I thought it meant to just flip the image! From left to right!

But! Wally has somehow conjured up an entirely NEW image! When you think about it, someone on the team drew or restored that image of Sally. Most likely, there was not a backside at all! Why would there need to be an illustration of that! Wally somehow made it happen! Very very interesting!

And then there is this, a little bonus, a little extra

Wally and Home. Sitting nicely together in the same... House?

I think most of us already think that there is a connection between the two of them. A deep connection.

Personally, I see the concept of Home as more of a general idea. Your Home, your upbringing, your family, your life! And what are you without these things? They made you who you are! If you were to separate yourself from the idea of Home, would you even know who you are?

And then there is the Eye. And it is under the same House. Wondering if this is saying "This and This are the same" "Wally and Home are both the Eyes" which feels like the more obvious statement.

But for me I see another connection. A Third. And it's You. The collective You. We are the audience, We are the Watchers and We have a connection to Wally through his eyes.

That connection is different and separated from the one between Wally and Home, but it is there! Under the same roof!

Wally, Home and You

Ooh I honestly am so excited to see the WHRP's response to all of this! They have been answered! And so very obviously too!

Anyways! As usual, I pop in with my little thoughts! Clown and his team are always full of delightful surprises! I hope they get some well deserved rest and good treats!

And all of you guys too!

Have fun out there!

[sophaeros]

golden trunks theory but i've forgotten how to do literary analysis:

so i think much like a lot of tbhc golden trunks is about a juxtaposition between intimacy/desire and the facade u have to put up as a public figure

like the opening verse/chorus are so starkly plain in the mental image they describe. it's just a simple portrait of an intimate night falling asleep together, and theres a very secretive tone created by the words "whispered" "admit". so from the get go we know immediately that it's about "true love" → romantic connotations, and this true love is associated w the night ie secrecy

this is a stark contrast to the second verse and bridge but esp the bridge where he plainly says "in the daytime". usually the day and light are associated w truth and revealing things but here he uses the daytime to talk about "a fresh new pack of lies", in contrast to the nighttime's "true love". the fact that the bridge is about being a celebrity and contending with lying for the sake of public relations is made very clear w how he says "bendable figures" → public figures who just bend/conform to the narrative crafted by pr managers, and most obviously w the use of the word "publicise". in an interview w la times hes asked if he enjoys being a pop star (w all the pressure and attention that entails) and he says "i have very little basis for comparison. the band has been going on for a larger fraction of my lifetime than it hasn’t." so as a very private person even leaving conspiracy theories about sexuality aside hes obv familiar w trying to keep the details of his relationships out of the spotlight. + this idea of the nighttime being the time for truth has been used before in diwk so it's a consistent theme

lots of people say the song about politics bc of the second verse cuz they say it's about (eugh) donald trump but i feel like thats a very surface reading. it's very out of place to me for him to have this randomass political commentary in a love song that he never brings up ever again which is why i dont think it's actually political commentary (or well, not Just, the pitchfork interview shows that is Is aware of politics obv it's just not the Point) it's just another angle to illustrate the idea of a public facing facade. he states in an interview that he thought of the wwf, which has given us the very interesting concept of kayfabe: the fact or convention of presenting staged performances as genuine or authentic. the public persona, like a wrestler w a dramatic theme song, is larger than life, rehearsed, beloved and famous, and also very much fake. 

this next part i said entirely as a joke making shit up while talking to my mutuals but then i was like wait maybe i was cooking. we're getting into more speculative rpf territory here but essentially i thought it was very interesting how he specifies that this is "the closest thing to a love song on this record", and also that the character it's centred around is one that he "made". many of his past love songs everyone knows are about his real actual love interests (eg shes thunderstorms was about alexa. alexa was a tv presenter) and now here's this song that is about simple, straightforward admittance of desire towards someone that doesnt exist. summed up in my og message to my mutuals, "hes singing to the amalgamation of his lovers an imaginary ideal to whom he can be simple and honest with in a way he can't quite bring himself to be in real life". i honestly feel like this gels well with the ultracheese's last two lines; a vague admission of guilt, of complicated feelings, vs capitulating to honesty and tiring of lying for the sake of pr ("i'm sure you've heard about enough"). + i find it interesting that golden trunks is that only tbhc song that has never been performed live

++ this idea of duplicity and lying has come up a lot in his discography but in tbhc specifically the bside anyways has the line "what a place for both the opposite sides / of my double life to finally collide"

and finally. the absolute funniest part of golden trunks.

Let me set the scene: sometime between Axl Rose getting braids (2002) and People Just Do Nothing jumping the shark (right now), those brothers in melodic yarns Turner and Kane, plus “another human being” – let’s call her “The Girl”, shall we, to save her poor mother’s heart condition? – are intertwined among the postcoital flotsam of an upmarket hotel room. “Hey, I’m glad you came,” Turner is alleged to have said, forever on the right side of etiquette and politeness in such matters. While Kane, in his sludgy Scouser lilt acknowledged, “Ah, thanks, man.” At which point Turner sat bolt upright in his sparkly gold briefs (unconfirmed) to stress who, in fact, his grateful aside was aimed at: “Not you, you wally. Her!”

sauces: - quotes curated by genius - la times - gq magazine / tumblr post

[auntieinthemushroomhat]

Analysing Why Williza Wouldn't Have Worked Out Through The Lens of a Pop Song

Hey, hi, hello!

This is not a post for the Willizas lol

I have no idea how many Stela Cole fans are among the Scarleteers, or, well, the ScarNashers.

This, I know it's a surprise, is not about Patrick and Eliza for once, but Eliza and William, though not in the best light, if that makes up for it, folks.

Stela has a new song called Blood Orange Wine and the lyrics kind of reminded me of Eliza's and William's relationship and how it lowkey went up in flames.

(I do feel I should acknowledge that, as far as I know, Stela's song is about a toxic relationship, which I don't think Eliza's and William's was, but if some of the lyrics fit, what can ya do?)

For your enjoyment:

1, just the title, Blood Orange Wine, itself: Eliza likes to drink wine, not beer, although she does drink whiskey, but usually in the presence of men eg. William, Patrick and probably Moses too (gosh I miss him)

2, I know it wasn't this extreme in the show, buuuut He knew the reasons I was scared of love - she was scared of entering a relationship with William, and I think the the reasons for that are:

a, he was her only family outside of Ivy, if it didn't work out, she would absolutely lose him (which happened in the end, and she didn't really get to have a say in the matter)

b, he was the only person she had ever felt romantic feelings for up until then

c, she had never been in a relationship, whereas William had been known for dallying with actresses, hell, he even courted her childhood bully

d, his image of the wife he wanted to marry differed so much from who Eliza is as a person, and Eliza, rightfully, didn't want to change herself completely just to fit that image

3, Told me he'd catch me if I fell, then he went running off - he confessed his love then upped and left, aka ran off, even though they were supposed to stick together since they were practically family, especially post-Henry's death

4, Knife to my throat until I opened up - again, I don't mean it literally, but he confessed his love, probably knowing Eliza wasn't ready, especially with the bomb that he was leaving for a year

5, He left me bleeding, now I'm freaking out - in that he left her to her own devices in regards to:

a, working out her feelings

b, knowing she was struggling to get cases at Nash & Sons and that she would no longer have access to Scotland Yard the same way without him, even with Fitzroy there (it's a bit redeeming though that he knew Nash was back to help Eliza)

c, knowing she had suffered a probably traumatic experience of not knowing whether he would live or die after getting shot

d, freaking out, as in she is sulking, or as she calls it, brooding, which is totally understandable, in my opinion, looking at the circumstances

6, Oh, I'm losing my forever, he only lets me down

a, Eliza and William were supposed to be endgame (still, I'm glad it didn't happen), they were each other's "forevers" right until they weren't

b, he only lets me down - she had to manipulate him in order to get him to help her, even though she needed his help, it wasn't (just) about her ambition

7, Wrapped around his finger, now my finger's wrapped around this glass

a, remember how important it was whenever they held hands or even their fingers touched?

b, in season 1, she regularly used her more womanly red dress to get him to do what she wanted, aka had him wrapped around her finger, because he wouldn't have helped her earn a living otherwise

Honestly, the more I wrote for this, the angrier I got. I still love William as a character, but they kinda fucked up his whole arc. Respect to Stuart for leaving, even if it wasn't because he saw that this would lead nowhere.

All of this, I think, supports why Patrick is a much better match for Eliza, even just as a friend and partner, but also as a potential love interest.