#I will go to ungodly lengths to do so and by that I mean I will not hesitate to use that knife

[azrail-has-a-vendetta]

Does anyone else sometimes just unconsciously start planning what you would do if you were suddenly kicked out of your current home, had only the clothes on your back and no where to go? Just me?

[deleteddewewted]

Long Distance relationship HC W/ König

MDNI

W: NSFW, Sub! König, Dom! Reader, Long Distance Relationship, Fluff, Angst, Orgasm Denial, Teasing, Cute Babygirl König, Bestfriend Elias (He's his wingman and hypeman), Cum Eating (He tastes himself)

He's such a sweetheart. He sends you pictures of strays he finds or of himself doing the most mundane things when he's at the base.

Doesnt matter how far into the relationship you're at, he's still kinda insecure about his face and sending you pictures that show his face.

He has his friend Elias though, so the guy gives him pep talks to boost his confidence.

Sometimes he does it too well cause you'll be getting a whole 12 pics of him in a span of 5 minutes all different angles and levels of motion blur.

Emoji user so expect kissy faces and hearts at the end of messages.

He texts you at ungodly hours but he'll stop if you ask him to.

He will stay up late in order to send you a good morning text.

He sometimes holds onto his pillow and pretends it's you.

You both have met a few times in person but even then it didn't feel like enough for him.

He wanted to envelop you in his arms, keep you flush against his body, and just lay there forever.

(Such a romantic, I know.)

He wishes he didn't need to leave your side but he also knows asking you to move with him wherever he goes is risky and inconsiderate of you.

He'll never make you choose so instead he promised you he'll be the one asking for a transfer once he feels ready/is forced into a less demanding position.

He just wants to live with you in the end.

He dreams of little kids running around in the living room while he embraces you from behind and lays his head on top of your own.

He can feel himself blush every time he dreams of you both finally being together and having a family.

He calls you sometimes, maybe even facetime you if he feels confident and does things with you.

He eats with you on facetime, gets himself ready for the day, changes clothes, takes a shower, cooks, anything really.

He just wants to pretend that you're both together and do theses mundane things together.

NSFW

He's so horny and it's somewhat pathetic.

He whimpers every time he jerks off and it's cause he's so sensitive. The tip of his cock is always this deep red and it looks painful.

He likes to tease himself by dragging his fingers over his length and over the veins and thinking it's you doing this to him instead of himself.

He doesn't know if cumming at a picture of you on his phone is creepy or not so he never asks you to send him anything to help him out.

If you do send him nudes or videos, maybe even audio, of yourself masturbating just know that he's going to be running to the community showers or finding some storage closet to get off in.

Because he's so pent up he needs to be quiet when he gets off. He's sharing a room with other people and sometimes the bases he's staying at doesn't provide individual barracks.

Fucks his pillows or makes a makeshift pocket pussy that he can fuck into like a dog.

In the rare case, he gets his own private barracks, he's calling you and you're both going to have some cute phone sex.

Cute phonesex? How?

Well, he's a talker and a whiny guy so he's throwing out praises like your some kind of divine being.

"Bit- Bitte! L- let me cum meine liebe~" He almost screamed into the phone but he'll be ok. He won't go against anything you say or do.

He wants to please you no matter if it means he'll have to go the next 48 hours or week hard and uncomfortable.

When he does get to cum he's thanking you profusely.

"D-anke, dan-ke, danke~!" Breathing heavy and light-headed he still finds it in himself to be grateful for you helping him relieve some of the tension he's been having.

What a good boy.

He stays on the line for a while longer just to tell you just how much he loves you and can't wait to meet up again.

He wants to hold you and take care of you and its painful to watch you take care of yourself after he got off.

He feels like it's unfair but he promises you, even though it's not necessary, that he'll devote the entire time to taking care of your needs.

Don't skip out on the praise either. He likes being told he's your good boy.

Give him kisses too. The feeling of your lips on his face is reassuring.

But, while you're both apart, just tell him that you love him and can't wait to be with him in person.

That's all the motivation he needs to make sure to keep his injuries to a minimum.

[mustainegf]

hii :)

could I request something where Dave calls reader in the middle of the night all whiny because he can’t get off (him and reader aren’t in an established relationship)? And if you could please avoid the mommy kink? Nothing against it it just personally doesn’t do anything for me 😅

OHHHHH LORD THIS IS GOOD YOUNG DAVE PLS ME NEXT PLS CALL ME DAVE

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 ¹⁹⁸³

The phone woke me with a shrill ring. The clock was glowing 2:13 AM from my nightstand. Groggily, I reached over and picked up the receiver, barely registering who could be calling at this ungodly hour.

"Hello?" I mumbled, my voice thick as sand.

"H-Hey, it's Dave," he replied in a low, shaky voice. Instantly, I was more awake. Dave was one of my best friends, but even with that given, it wasn't common for him to call me at this hour, if ever.

"Dave? What's wrong?" My concern mounted at his answer.

"I… I know it's late. I'm really sorry. I just… I couldn't stop thinking about you," he said, his tone now bordering on desperate. "I need you."

His words passed through me, confusing and exciting all at once, somehow. "What do you mean?" I asked once more as my pulse increased.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he replied, much firmer this time. "Please... I need to get off, and you’re all I can think about..."

I was speechless, utterly speechless as I realized Dave was currently cock in hand. This wasn't the Dave I knew, who joked and laughed and felt challenged by any word spoken to him.

Yet, something sparked under me. "You're serious?" I asked wearily, trying to make my voice steady.

"Yes," he said, catching his breath. "I know it sounds crazy, but I can't help it. Please, I need you.”

The line was heavy with silence. Then, almost involuntarily, I found myself responding. "What… what do you want me to do?"

"Tell me what you're wearing," he begged, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as I could hear a quick shifting of something on the other line.

I looked down at my ruffled pajama top and shorts. "Just a shirt, and panties," I said, shivering oddly at the idea of sharing even this mundane fact.

"Take them off," he said softly. "Imagine my hands are on you, undressing you."

I shivered, both from the cool air and the heat in his words. Slowly, I slipped out of my clothes, the fabric whispering against my skin. "They're off," I whispered back.

"Good girl," he breathed. "Now, touch yourself. Tell me how it feels."

My hand moved almost of its own accord, trailing down my body until I found the warmth between my thighs. I was already slick just from his words.

I twitched softly at the contact. "It feels g-good," I confessed, my breath rising.

"Keep going," he urged, wet sounds echoing from his line. "Imagine it's me touching you. My fingers inside you."

I did, shutting my eyes and picturing Dave’s fingers screwing into me, curling up into my gummy walls.

My clit was so weak from the thought of Dave in bed, clutching the phone as he worked his frustrated cock.

“I’m covered in precum… that’s what you do to me..” Dave groaned. Good lord, I just about melted at the thought of his length slick with cum, wishing insides that it was mine.

"God, I wish I could see you right now," he moaned. "I'm so close. Are you gonna cum soon?"

"Yes," I murmured, teetering on the edge of orgasm.

"Cum for me," he growled, his voice raw and commanding. "Cum with me."

That was all it. My body bucked, and I screamed, cumming and spanning around my fingers. I could hear Daves own release, a primal sound that sent another tremble through me.

I whined as we both caught our breath, whimpering incoherent words, he spoke again, and his tone had changed. "I'm coming over."

"What?" I asked, my post orgasmic haze breaking slightly.

"I need to see you," he said firmly. "I need to be with you. I'm coming over right now."

The line went dead before I could even respond. I lay there for a moment, my mind racing with everything that had just happened in the last 5 minutes.

I didn't know what would happen when Dave got there, but one thing was for sure, the night was far from over.

[uchihaharlot]

Shsjdjdj Imagine, you want something back from Shisui that he borrowed from you, so you sneak into his room to get it, but you hear him coming so you hide in his closet, and him and Itachi come in and are just talking, and then they start making out and stuff, and your just watching from the closet, and and and and maybe they secretly know your there and fuck each other infront of you or something like that- my brain all over for this one - also yes that was all one sentence. Fight me.

Oooo. I love this. It’s no secret Shisui can be sort of inadvertently be a kleptomaniac. It’s not malicious by any means. He just is really bad at returning things to people.

NSFW; some hot ass Shisui and Itachi; read for the details.

— So when he borrowed your favorite book. You instantaneously knew that prying it from his hands would be problematic. Not in sense that he would purposely withhold your belongings.

— But his room in a fucking mess. Aside from the rest of his house; yes you absolutely tore through it—nicely of course. The last place was his bedroom. You feared for your book and your sanity on its retrieval. Aside from the empty cans of water, and the various energy drink. You couldn’t find your book.

— Even checking under his mattress, nothing. Then you heard footsteps enclosing at an alarming rate. He was supposed to be out training with Itachi, this put a wrench in your recon mission. The second they enter the room its hushed whispers, you fortunately ended up in his closet. Chakra concealed, crouched beneath a pile of sweaty ass training clothes. Mundane words of clan business between the two as usual.

— Then silence, followed by the unforgettable sound of lips touching and soft panting. More hushed whispers, but you distinctly hear Shisui say, ‘you’re gonna get it for that little number earlier.’ Your curious eyes and hands lifted at the god knows what you used to cover your face, and holy shit. The immaculate amount of arousal spread through your body was embarrassingly high. This…this was not expected, but also not surprising. Extremely welcoming though.

— Your own Uchiha show. They worked fast, Shisui lazily stroked Itachi’s cock in one hand as the other worked his own. How would Fugaku feel knowing the clan heir was getting plowed by his best friend? Surely he wouldn’t be as excited as you. It was hot, two of the most attractive men in this clan just going at one another’s throats. Sucking and nibbling each other. Then Shisui forcing Itachi to his knees and tapping his cock against eagerly parting lips. Roughly shoving it in Itachi’s mouth eliciting him to gag. It was almost unfair how good he was at it.

— You clearly had died. This was the only sane conclusion, Shisui came home and mistaken you for an intruder and killed you without it registering. But no, it wasn’t, because the sound of Shisui’s deep moaning matched the fervent mouth pace Itachi had on his cock. Your eyes did not deceive you. Yep, this was real. It was happening, no matter. Hidden in your stuffy sanctuary, this was one thing you could see to the end and if you hand ended up in your pants. It was merely a coincidence.

— Your excitement only grew as Shisui lifted Itachi to a searing kiss, pushed him on the bed and slicked an ungodly amount of lube over his length. Itachi’s desperate effort to pull his pants down was just fast enough for Shisui to breach his waiting hole. That alone had you on the verge of climax. Your own mouth almost betrayed you with a moan. You had to stop, allow the buildup to simmer down. Watched as Shisui wrung Itachi’s beautiful hair in one hand and smack his ass with the other. Hard thrusts that made Itachi moan in falsetto. Even not touching yourself you could almost cum.

— Yet, it was endearing. They had been doing this for a while, there was no way that either one weren’t familiar with each other under these circumstances. Shisui towered over Itachi’s back side. Hand expertly stroking his cock, the way Itachi and Shisui looked at one another in this moment was ethereal. And there was that damn hand of yours. Playing tribute to yourself, matching as best you could to Shisui tenderly plowing Itachi. Their loud moaning turned into soft panting. More hushed whispers, ‘I’m close’ and ‘don’t stop.’ Had you reeling in pleasure.

— The resounding groan that Shisui let out, his hips jutting. Your eyes couldn’t keep up. Itachi milked by Shisui’s hand as his thrusts tapered and eventually stopped. The heat of your own climax felt dirty, but why should you care? It wasn’t like they heard you. Or saw you.

— A snug grin spread Shisui’s mouth. “I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did.” Which, to your surprise. You though he was talking to Itachi. But when he looked behind him, it seemed that Itachi was as just as perplexed as you were.

— It was comical to at you tried to cover yourself in his smelly clothes again. Shisui wasn’t having any of it, opening the closet doors. A bewildered Itachi in the background, Shisui more amused than anything. “Next time, you’ll join us.”

— “Uh.” Where was that stupid mouth of yours when you needed it? “I came for my book.” Shisui didn’t doh t that, you were stingy with your belongings. It wasn’t his laugh that made your stomach disappear, but rather when he said. “I gave that back to you two weeks ago.”

— “Oh. Really?” Yea; you did. You hounded him for it. You usually didn’t forget these things; but there had been so much going on you forgot about it. “My bad.”

— It was a good thing Shisui was so chill. Helped you up and spun you around into the center of his room. Itachi was less than pleased that you had seen one of his darkest secrets. He was more irate with Shisui for knowing you had been there all along.

— “You owe me.” Itachi slapped his back, Shisui snickers. “You owe Itachi too.” Which wasn’t what he was getting at. “Don’t go too far after tomorrows training.”

— With that you nodded silently and made you way out the window.

[hearts4youz]

The Captains Daughter -Chapter 3-

A/N Sorry for the longer wait!!! chapters 4 and 5 are ready to go and will be out this week/weekend as well!! hope yall are doing great and enjoy this chapter! its a bit of a slow one, the next few are too but I promise it will get better!!

@abbiesxox

Word count: 1.1k

Reader pov:

*Beep beep*

*Beep beep*

4:45 AM, your alarm was blaring. You let out an ungodly noise as you stretched your still sleeping muscles, reaching over to shut it off. Breakfast started in 15 mins, reporting was mandatory. You used the restroom, brushed your teeth, washed your face with your standard issue bar of soap, which to be honest, didn't do much for skincare. It was more for sterilization than anything.

You combed your hair back into a low ponytail. Luckily the uniform regulations were much more relaxed here than your old base. Your hair only needed to be tied back in some form if it was past chin length, instead of the required sleek low bun most other military organizations required.

Putting on your uniform and double knotting your shoes, you opened your door and began walking to the mess. Almost running face first into a man with a mustache. You looked up to apologize and realized it was your father.

"Watch where you're going fatass," You joked. (A/N- please tell me yall got the mean girls reference.)

Your dad laughed, your footsteps fell in sync and the two of you walked to breakfast together.

"How was your first day of training with your Lieutenant?"

"I don't think I'm up to his standards," you confessed. Remembering Ghost's disapointment with you the day before

"Ah yeah, Ghost is tough to please. Don’t stress about it kid, if he’s mean to you it usually means he likes you,” He winked.

You rolled your eyes, “he doesn’t even think I belong here, he kicked my ass when we sparred.”

“Ghost is a great soldier, he’s incredibly strong and has seen a lot of hand to hand combat. He can be blunt, but it’s cause he wants to make you better, not boost your confidence,” your dad tries reassuring you.

“Thank you dad, but something tells me him and I won’t get along too well," your opinion unchanged.

He sighs, the two you enter the mess hall and fall into line.

"Speak of the devil," your dad says, lightly elbowing you.

you turned around to see Ghost and Soap had gotten in line behind you.

"Captain!" Soap exclaimed, with just a tad too much energy for 5 in the morning."

You looked up at him and grinned. He had shaved his face, which appeared to have shaved a decade off of his life.

"MacTavish!" Your father clapped him on the back. "You don't look a day over twelve," he teased.

The four of you laughed, the first time you've seen your lieutenant do anything of the sort.

Ghost caught your quizzical expression and quickly stopped, expression reducing to the same stone faced soldier you were growing familiar with.

"Ghost?" Soap wondered why he stopped laughing.

Soaps gaze switched from him to you.

"Oh," was all that came out of his mouth

You were confused, why wouldn't Ghost laugh around you?

Why did soap seem to instantly know why?

Ghost pov:

I was not about to let Y/N see my "human" side, maybe once she proves she can handle herself. I think as I fork bacon onto my tray.

I dared to steal a glance at her, she was back to talking and laughing with Soap and Price. It is odd seeing someone act so informal around him. I know he is her father and all, but everyone else acts so reverent towards him.

I am due to continue her training at 4:00 this afternoon. Dread fills my veins. I hate the thought of being in charge of the training that is designed to save someones life. What if I fail to teach her something that she needs in a dire situation? What if I am too soft on her and she remains weaker than her opponents.

No, that won't happen.

You will be hard on her, you will show no remorse, you won't feel bad. She is not your friend, she is your sergeant. I repeat this to myself in my head as we gather our trays and walk to the table. I ate in silence, paying little attention to the conversation. Gaz and Alejandro had joined us at this point. I stared down at the plate in front of me. The bacon here is nasty.

I wanted to leave. I hated it with Y/N here.

Its not that I don't like her, well actually maybe that is partially why.

But, when I look at her, its like seeing a child. Something that needs to be looked after, someone with a lot to learn, someone who isn't ready to face the world.

I stood up to leave without a word. I head towards the gym to get in a quick lift before the morning briefing.

"Simon!"

Soap had followed me

"Fucking hell" I said under my breath.

"You cant be a jackass to her forever," Johnny said, jogging to catch up with me.

"Until I can safely befriend her without having to worry about having to identify her body a week later I will be," I huffed.

"Simon, I know it hit you like a truck when Henry Jones, and Bill Anderson died, I know how you get when you hear about the death of anyone," he tried to reason.

"I know you always think it's your fault when something goes wrong. I know you want to protect everyone, and I know you don't mean to be an asshole." I looked at him from the corner of my eye.

"But not everyone else knows that," he continued. "Your colleagues are afraid of you. They think you're heartless. I know you aren't, the rest of the squad knows you aren't, well except Y/N.

Him and I walked the rest of the way in silence. I contemplated his words.

Your colleagues are afraid of you

"I don't want her to be afraid."

"Hm?" Soap turned his head

"Y/N, I don't want her to be afraid of me," I confirmed

"The mask sure isn't helping," Soap joked to break the tension. "Actually, keep it on- whats underneath is worse," he snickered.

"You bastard, I'm not ugly," I cracked a smile from beneath said mask.

Johnny has seen my face once, on a mission. I was sucker punched and it cracked.

"What does she think of me?" I say, curiosity besting me.

"She thinks you're a total dick."

"figured"

"You can fix that though," Soap said "It's pretty simple, maybe instead of beating the shit out of her to start training, you could ask how her day is going." He sarcastically adds

I roll my eyes, "I'm capable of friendship."

Soap laughs, "I'll put in a good word for you LT."

Smiling and shaking my head, I walk away.

[ddarker-dreams]

Meet The Parents II. 🎀

Giorno x F Reader / Narancia x F Reader. Commissioned piece.

Word count: 3.3k. Note: Dialogue in italics is meant to represent words spoken in English !! [Scarlet Ribbons Index]

It’s the type of day a tourist couldn’t be happier with. Cloudless baby blue skies, nonexistent humidity, and a light northern breeze to cool the skin.

Giorno Giovanna thinks that the timing for such weather couldn’t have been better. Given your current frazzled condition, entertaining your two special guests from overseas is made easier by the outdoors' availability. The young Don fears you’d stress yourself into an early grave otherwise. You said you’re going to dazzle and distract your parents with Napoli’s beauty, so as not to allow any downtime.

Downtime means more intimate conversations. Apparently, this is a risk you don’t want to take, hence your current tour guide persona.

“Is she still looking out the window?” Giorno queries your Stand, who has taken to floating around dejectedly. In an attempt to soothe your nerves, Scarlet Ribbons tried braiding your hair, an effort met with reproach. While you normally let your Stand amuse itself by fashioning your hair into innumerable styles, you claimed ‘you have a strict image to maintain and can’t go around looking like Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz.’

Your Stand nods in affirmation at Giorno’s question.

“Did she at least put the binoculars down?”

This time, a shake of the head.

Hurried footsteps echo against the tile of Giorno’s villa, footsteps that can only belong to you, as he’s dismissed the few employees trusted with the home’s upkeep for the day. Your Stand fades away, apparently still in low spirits from your earlier altercation. You round the corner and sigh in relief upon spotting Giorno.

“They’re returning from their walk,” you have a distinct pleasure in confirming. “We’ve almost made it through this harrowing trial.”

Giorno disguises a chuckle by clearing his throat. “Has it been that cumbersome? You look like you’re in your element to me.”

“Yeah, if my element is ‘ungodly distress’. I think I’ll need a therapist when this is all said and done.”

“I’ll see that it’s arranged.”

Giorno’s attempts at soothing your nerves are fruitful. It’s strange, this switch in roles. You were usually the one who made a point of uplifting the spirits of others. While Giorno’s more reserved nature doesn’t lend well to making you burst into hysterics like Mista or Narancia can, he fills another role. One that is specially carved out in his shape, unable to be occupied by another.

He is the best at getting a read on you. Though he’d never admit it aloud, he takes pride in the fact. The others may have known you longer, but he catches the nuances they’re blind to.

For instance, he sees the genuine sprouts of concern hiding beneath your typical display of theatrics. You’ve gone to great lengths to hide your involvement with Italy’s underbelly. This false impression, meticulously crafted, could shatter like glass at the slightest pressure. Doing so would undoubtedly break something inside you too.

Giorno refuses to let that happen. Not when you’ve become so integral in his life, that he can scarcely remember a time when you weren’t around.

He trails not far behind as you run to greet your parents. Their faces light up the second they spot you — he can’t blame them. Before he enters the conversation, he recalls the words spoken by Bucciarati many years ago on his first trip to Libeccio.

“The others might give you a hard time at first, but try not to hold it against them. That’s just their way of getting to know you,” Bruno trailed off. Then his lips quirked into a fond smile. “However, you don’t need to worry about that with [First]. She’ll make you feel like you’ve known one another your entire lives within minutes.”

It was exactly as Bruno foretold.

“GioGio, my mom and dad want to thank you for your ‘cousin’s’ hospitality,” you call over to him.

Giorno wasn’t sure if he should be concerned or impressed by how quickly you crafted a lie to explain away his opulent residence. For safety’s sake, Giorno thought it best if he met your parents privately, away from the prying eyes that came as a consequence of being Passione’s boss. Thus came the tale that his Posillipo estate actually belonged to some rich cousin who felt gracious enough to lend it to him for a few hours.

Your worldbuilding went beyond that, but that captures the essence of things. He admires your tenacity.

His appearance in the backyard where your family unit has huddled together is met with a chorus of accented ‘grazies’.

“Woah, that was pretty solid,” you give an approving look. “Have you been practicing that?”

“I read on a pamphlet that we should know how to at least say hi, yes, no, and thank you,” your mom confirms.

“Still can’t roll my r’s if my life counted on it, though,” is your dad’s contribution.

“Well, one year of high school Spanish can only do so much,” you give your dad a conciliatory pat on the shoulder for good measure.

He shakes his head. “I took French.”

You make a face of faux sympathy. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Giorno feels a stirring within the recesses of his soul. This close-knit bond is unfamiliar to him, a long-forgotten desire he chased after futility as a child. He knows of the hardships you endured, and how you were brought into Passione’s fold for the lack of a better alternative. This is what you fought to preserve. What you shed blood, sweat, and tears for, hiding the damning trifecta behind a seemingly carefree smile.

He resolves himself to fight for it too.

“It’s been my pleasure,” Giorno responds in kind. He might not be as English savvy as Fugo, but he can roughly follow a conversation and chime in on the occasion.

The young Don then turns his attention to you. “I’ve prepared a small gift for them, if that’s alright.”

You gnaw on your bottom lip, contemplative. “Is it… proletariat friendly? No Giorgio Armani or Gucci, right?”

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing like that. You can look it over first if you’d prefer.”

“Nah, I trust you. I’m just on high alert. Mista wanted to give them a vintage bottle of Chateau Cheval Blanc and I almost died. I can’t keep giving everyone rich cousins…”

Giorno can’t say he didn’t expect such shenanigans. Everyone is doing what they can to land themselves in your parent’s good graces, for if you hold their opinion in such high regard, it might be the key to claiming your hand one day. This appears to be an unspoken yet universally understood truth. While Giorno would find it unbecoming to consider your parents a means to an end, he isn’t going to pass on this rare opportunity.

It isn’t just about winning them over either. Your approval factors into the equation as well.

After a brief departure, Giorno returns with two wrapped boxes in tow. He hands them to your mother and father respectively. You look as curious as they do, inspecting the present’s outward appearance for any hints. He takes a deep breath. It isn’t often he’s nervous, since his position doesn’t permit such weakness, yet he can’t deny the fluttering in his stomach. He moves on to the next stage of his plan.

“Please tell them I wanted to show a small token of my appreciation, for having raised such a kind and thoughtful daughter,” Giorno isn’t surprised to see your face morph into embarrassment. Still, he continues, a touch of mischief underlying his tone, “I’ll know if you mistranslate, [First]. English was my foreign language class.”

You give an exaggerated sigh and resign yourself to your fate. You repeat what Giorno said to them, uncharacteristically sheepish as you do so. His heart soars at how endearing the sight is. A devious side of himself tempts him to tease you more, but his polite tendencies win out, advising that now isn’t the time.

True to his word, the gifts are nothing that showcase his exuberant bank account. It’s a simple tie for your father and a brooch shaped like a ribbon for your mother — both a recognizable shade of scarlet. You look at the gift, then him, your mouth agape and your eyes glossy. He can decipher the depths of your gratitude without you needing to utter a word.

“Well, look at that,” your father holds the tie up for closer inspection. “You’re always wearing this color anymore, [First]. I guess it’ll be a family thing now.”

Your mother expresses her appreciation next. “What a thoughtful gift. I have an outfit that’ll match this perfectly! Tell your friend he has such good taste…”

Giorno decides the evening couldn’t have ended on a more positive note.

Your parents don’t depart long after that, jet lag still weighing them down. You offer to accompany them in the taxi back to their hotel, but they say they don’t want to take up any more of your time than they already have. So you settle for staring out the window until the cab leaves your line of sight. This time, you’re noticeably missing your binoculars, which Giorno believes your Stand hid in a vengeful act.

Once you’re certain they’re long gone, you run at Giorno with open arms.

He lets out an ‘oof’ at the unexpected impact, his cheeks flushing and hands uncertain where to settle themselves. Eventually, he reciprocates your embrace, ignoring the knowing thumbs up Scarlet Ribbons gives from behind your shoulder.

“I can’t thank you enough, GioGio,” you pull back, much to his disappointment. The bright smile lighting up your face instantly makes up for it. “I really… wow. This might sound kinda silly, but whenever I get homesick, I think I’ll feel better knowing they have a reminder of me like that near them.”

A wistful yearning fills him then. This wish to pull you back to his chest, reassure you that he’d do anything to appease whatever negative emotions you may harbor — homesickness or otherwise — but he keeps himself in check.

It wouldn’t be appropriate for him to do that yet.

Still, he’ll see to it that a day will come when he can.

“It’s the least I could do. I consider your family to be my family.”

And so they will be, if his next dream is to be fulfilled.

-

It doesn’t take much to excite Narancia.

He’s always brimming with energy — too much energy, according to Fugo, but who cares what that guy thinks — ready for anything and everything. His infinite enthusiasm somehow doubles whenever you’re involved. Anyone with a set of functioning eyes could see how utterly lovesick he is for you. Well, except for you, apparently, who finds it presumptuous to assume others’ feelings.

When you still came back to visit him at the hospital, despite the way he snapped at you for what he considered ‘pity’, he swore an oath to himself. No matter the cost, he would see to it that you’re happy and never cause you distress again. If presented with the choice between having you or the world, he’d pick you every time, without hesitation.

You’re precious to him, living proof that not everyone will cast him aside at the first opportunity.

Convincing himself of this has been an uphill battle. He’s been left behind too many times to count, made into nothing but a stepping stone for others to advance forward. Distrust cultivated throughout an entire lifetime is not so easily dissipated. They linger, like sediment that’s fallen to the bottom of a pond, waiting to rise at the slightest stir.

Narancia rattles off the gelato order you gave him, barely comprehending the fact he needs to pay once the employee confirms it. His head is elsewhere. He hands over more cash than necessary, grumbles something about keeping the change, then scurries to the side. In the background, he catches the melodic sound of your laughter. He sees you clutching your stomach, your eyes crinkling with mirth, and both your parents smiling as well.

Narancia has always wanted to secure your happiness… so why is it this sight unsettles him so?

Feeling the way he does now is nothing short of aggravating. He doesn’t understand it or know how to make it go away.

Regardless, he knows he needs to try. It would put a damper on the mood if he comes back over and sulks. He likes your parents and wants them to like him too. He might not be super smart the way Fugo is, or as charismatic as Giorno, but he still wants to showcase his strong points. That’s why he’s been mentally preparing for this day. Practicing English (by listening to rap music, but he still counts it), fixing his posture, and even acting all gentlemanly. He can’t recall a time he’s held open so many doors and pulled out so many chairs.

“Nara, need some help carrying all that?”

Your abrupt appearance nearly has him yelping in shock. Narancia steadies himself, preparing to ask what you mean when he recalls the tray in his hands. He can’t recall a time when he crawled so deep into his head.

His skin flushes when you poke his cheek. “Hello? Earth to Narancia? Did looking at the gelato give you some sort of existential crisis?”

“N-No! There’s, uh, no crisis here.”

You give him a quick glance over, as if not entirely convinced, yet ultimately relent. Narancia sighs in relief. Had you decided to keep pressing the subject, he isn’t sure if he would’ve been able to deflect your attempts. Lying hasn’t ever been his forte.

The gelato is dispersed among the four of you. You’ve settled at a quaint picnic table, rustling branches overhead granting refuge from the Mediterranean sun. Although Narancia can’t understand whatever conversation is taking place, he nods along, his eyes never leaving your animated form. He admires how your hair billows in the breeze, pulled up in a high ponytail and strung into place with a ribbon.

He’s always thought your hallmark color suits you. It’s warm, bold, and passionate. He couldn’t see a shade of scarlet without his thoughts instantly drifting to you.

“My parents were wondering if you’ve ever thought about visiting the States.”

Narancia does what he can to shake the shackles of uncertainty off of him so he can respond. “I kicked the idea around when I was younger, yeah. It might be kinda hard now. Lotta work to do.”

“I can’t blame you for developing an aversion to flying after Sardegna,” you nudge him with your elbow. “Maybe we can revisit the idea when things settle down. There’s so much I’d want to show you. I just know you’d love it! In Times Square, grown men walk around dressed as Elmo and harass people if they don’t give ‘em money after you take a picture together. It’s hilarious.”

Your dad throws something in, which you translate with unrivaled excitement. “I almost forgot! You’d get to try New York pizza… it apparently descends from a Napoli immigrant, what’re the chances of that. I know you fiercely defend your Neapolitan pizza’s honor, but I’m confident I can convert you.”

He scrunches up his nose. “No way. That shit sounds—”

Remembering his company, he slaps a hand over his mouth.

“Pff, Nara, it’s fine, they can’t understand you,” you wave off his concern. “They wanted to let you know you’re welcome anytime. There’s no need to rush an answer, though. I’ll just say that you’re thinking about it.”

Narancia pushes his melting gelato around with a spoon. “Hey, [First]?”

“Mhm?”

“Have you ever…” The words die on his tongue, for the mere possibility submerges him in grief, “Have you ever thought about moving back? To your home, I mean. Cause… Giorno would let you. Then you could pursue your dreams again and be happy.”

He can’t bring himself to face you. Guilt weighs down on him like an anchor — here you are, trying to enjoy an outing with your parents you haven’t seen face to face in years, and he’s bringing down the mood. The fear of this future manifesting into reality hurts. It isn’t a brief, weak pang, it’s a heavy ache that reverberates throughout his entire being.

You’re his best friend, his first love, his everything.

Would seeing your parents — a reminder that you have a home elsewhere — threaten to take that away from him? And could he ever be selfish enough to stop it?

You rattle off something, causing both your parents to stand. They send a friendly wave Narancia’s way, which he returns with as much enthusiasm as he can muster, given the tempest brewing in his heart. Then they’re off to overlook the Golfo di Napoli, fitting in perfectly with another cluster of tourists.

“Is this what’s been bothering you, Narancia?”

He can’t bring himself to speak, so he nods his head.

You rest your hand over his. Your skin is soft and warm, a combination that serves as a balm to his malaise. He recalls when he’d been forced to live in the streets, after serving time in a detention center for a crime he didn’t commit. He remembers how his former ‘friends’ abandoned him, spreading rumors that the eye disease he’d contracted was contagious, his isolation seemingly set in stone. No one looked at him, came near him, much less touched him.

When you visited him in the hospital for the first time, you practically tripped over yourself to hug him. His heart monitor had gone through the roof — he couldn’t believe a pretty girl like you would willingly come into contact with him.

You intrinsically knew how to comfort him then, and you know how to comfort him now.

“Well, I guess it’s natural to wonder that. I won’t lie and say I’ve never considered it. For the longest time, I tried to push it to the back of my mind, because there was a lot of work to do before my debt would be paid off. What you said about GioGio is right. It’s one of the first things he asked me after overtaking Passione.”

Narancia swallows thickly, the silence following your last statement deafeningly loud.

“That being said,” you squeeze his hand then, “I made up my mind. Dreams are fluid, Nara. At least to me. They change shape over time as we grow, experience new things, and meet new people. I don’t want anyone else to experience what I did. By doing some wrong, we can bring about good. I want to keep Passione strong so a worse entity doesn’t take its place.”

You give him a wink. “That means you’re stuck with me.”

To further emphasize the point, you use your Stand’s ability to manifest a ribbon, tying your wrist to his.

“Will that make you happy?” Narancia asks.

“Not always, but life’s about more than being happy,” you reply without hesitation. He can tell you’ve given this some thought, far before he broached the subject. “That’s why we need each other. Gotta keep things bearable, y’know.”

A beat passes. Then he grins, wide enough that it almost hurts, but he pays it no mind. He squeezes your hand back. Sensing his lifted spirits, you mimic his smile, allowing the ribbon to fade away for it served its purpose. You never fail to amaze Narancia with how utterly lovable you are, he swears it’s almost supernatural.

“You’re right. You’re always right, [First].”

At this, you put your hands up, a laugh leaving your lips. “Oh, far from it. Now let’s go get my parents back before the crowd gets any worse.”

Narancia springs into action, the usual pep in his step making a triumphant return.

“If we’re making plans to head to the States, there is one place I really wanna visit.”

You raise an eyebrow as he helps you up. “Oh? And where might that be?”

“The mouse’s home turf. Disneyworld.”

“You know that means we’d have to go to Florida, right?”

“What’s wrong with this ‘Florida’ place?”

You place your hand on his shoulder. “That, my dear Narancia, is a long tale, full of mystery, intrigue, and alligators…”

[goldenblu]

i dont have emojis, so- hurricane, snowflake, raincloud, umbrella? or you can choose only one or two of them if you want

🌀 Post the fic summary for a fic you haven't written/published yet. It can be hypothetical or something you really plan on releasing...

5 times zoro didn’t know he was flirting with sanji and 1 time he knew

(i do plan on releasing this some day—i’ve got almost 3k written so far—but probably not anytime soon)

❄️ Share a snippet from a WIP of your choosing.

from the fic above ^ :

Zoro thought the whole flower situation was over and done with, but apparently he was mistaken. The cook had presumably seen it when he returned to the ship or maybe when he retired to sleep yesterday night and hadn’t said anything to him about it, so Zoro had assumed that Sanji had accepted the gift junk and presented it to Nami or Robin or whoever. So imagine his surprise when he sees the flower again. With the cook. On the cook, actually. Tucked in his hair.

What.

Zoro’s brain takes a moment to reboot. He blinks, wondering if he’s hallucinating, but nope, it’s still there. Why. When. How. Why, again, for good measure.

Sanji catches him staring—of course he does, they’re literally two feet apart since Zoro had immediately come face-to-face with the cook after exiting the washroom. Because apparently the universe hates him. For some ungodly reason that Zoro can’t fathom, the tips of Sanji’s ears burn a bright red. “What?” he snaps.

Oh god. The cook actually sounds embarrassed.

“Nothing,” Zoro says, because if he says what he’s actually thinking, he’s going to be even more embarrassed than Sanji, if such a thing were possible. “Just wasn’t expecting that.”

🌧️ Share something angsty from your WIP.

ohoho there is so much to choose from

Sanji’s hand clenches in his shirt so hard that he shakes from the strain of it, and then he shoves Zoro against the wall, cabinets clattering open on impact. Zoro allows it to happen, keeping his hands loose and by his sides as Sanji’s forearm presses into his collarbone.

“I hate you so fucking much,” Sanji spits out. He lets go and starts pacing back and forth furiously, steps coming down so hard that Zoro’s surprised that the wood doesn’t splinter under the force of it. His hands fist in his hair. “I asked you for one thing. One fucking thing! I thought I could trust you to do it, but I guess I was wrong about that.”

“I can handle your hate.” If it means that Sanji is still himself, is still feeling and alive, Zoro can handle anything.

Sanji bites out a harsh laugh. “That’s goddamn perfect then.” He whips around, wild, resentful, burning a hole into Zoro’s flesh with the bitterness of his gaze alone. “Because you fucking have it.”

(yes this from hold your fire 😁)

☔ Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

the stealth black sanji au 👀 ive already talked about it at length though so i don’t have anything to add here lol

beyond that, i’ve always liked the hc that sanji attended a reverie as part of the germa delegation when he was young, so an au where vivi recognizes him when they first meet could be interesting. haven’t put too much thought into it though

[littlesparklight]

I love your posts about the Trojan family! Are there any headcanons about them that you could share? (especially Ganymede and his immediate family's era cause I love those ones the most :) )

Hehe, thank you, anon! <3 I love the Trojan family, especially, of course, Ganymede's era and then Priam's one for Paris and Hektor hehe.

And I think I can do that~ I love thinking about the Trojan royal family. :D

Considering you can have basically a nymph wife in every other generation being married to a Trojan king in either branch of the family starting with Astyoche (daughter of Simoeis) marrying Tros' father, the whole family is marked by this connection. I don't really headcanon that mortals being born of nymphs has any physical/visual effects as such on them (I go with nymphs generally just looking like human women), aside from... uh, beauty "infusions"? But that doesn't mean there aren't effects! All of the following would only work in fresh water, not the ocean: -Literally all of them can either keep their breath for extended periods of time, or straight up breathe underwater. -They don't really need to learn how to swim. They might need a refresher a couple years after birth, but that's not really swimming lessons so much as "lead them into the river and let them dog paddle a couple moments, done". -They can see really well underwater, though it's doubtful anyone ever realises this is weird. Unlike being able to stay below for an extended length of time, it's far less easily noticed by others as something off from what they can do.

Xanthos and Simoeis have turned up for each and every birth of their direct or extended grandchildren in Troy or Dardanos. When it comes to Priam's children, this got restricted to those born of Hecuba (but Aesacus also got this 'blessing', since at that point his mother was Priam's primary wife). Aeneas was visited when Aphrodite handed the infant to the nymphs who raised him for his first five years on Ida. Only Paris wasn't visited at his birth - but he has, however (even if he doesn't know that she is his ultimate grandmother) been visited by the goddess-nymph of Mount Ida, Idaea, before he was reunited with his family.

There's a tacit agreement that only one daughter of either Xanthos or Simoeis will marry into the family in each generation (at most). Why it was Assaracus, who isn't the oldest son, instead of Ilus, who got to marry a nymph, is because he was already involved with her before Ilus was looking to marry. He didn't marry before his older brother, but it was obvious he and Hieroneme were going to do so, so Ilus looked elsewhere and married a mortal woman. (Laomedon "makes up" for it by being involved with two daughters of Xanthos lol (possibly three? We don't know who Calybe's father is) One that he married, one that was simply a mutual fling. save yourselves, girls!!! I suppose he has divine dick-skills or something.)

The beauty of nymphs isn't actually where the famed beauty of Troy's royal line stems from! It's undoubtedly why the daughters are beautiful, but as it's especially the sons who are given a certain beauty, it actually comes from Dardanos himself, and thus from Zeus. The first and only time divine-like beauty was conferred on one of the demigod sons of Zeus, and it uh, had effects, as we know.

I feel like Xanthos gifted Erichthonios his first mares (maybe as a wedding gift?), and this is where the whole ~horse connection comes from; the herd grew ungodly fast and Boreas, uh, taking an interest, meant the horses descended from those were particularly fine and could fetch some great prices when sold/or favour and prestige when gifted.

Ganymede kept up with his brothers and sisters' lives. He might only have ended up visiting Troy when his father died, but he was well aware of what was happening. Basically, he had a sort of long-distance relationship to his family, even if it was sort of one-sided, but it kept a connection up for him, which was important! It let him still feel involved.

Like I've mentioned before, I don't go with Tros' son Ilus founding Troy, because I lean more into the real world here. What I do, instead, is have Dardanos' son, the first Ilus, help extend and build up the already extant settlement into something greater, and it keeps building from there. Ganymede's brother Ilus merely becomes one of the greatest Trojan kings and does a lot for the city, etc. I headcanon he built a new shrine/temple to Athena for both her and the Palladium (and that the cow omen mentioned in Apollodorus has to do where to put said temple, not the city as a whole).

I originally headcanoned Kallirhoe dying with her husband, and obviously this still applies for my fic-verse. But it's also just annoying when most of what I see is how alone and depressed and without family connections Ganymede is, so I also definitely very much like the idea of Kallirhoe living quite a long time afterwards, and that she becomes one of his main familial connections alongside Xanthos, now that she's back within the divine sphere.

I headcanon the Palladium is tied to the Trojan royal bloodline specifically, through Elektra. I basically go with that it was given to her directly, and then handed on to Dardanos as he left Samothrace. (Blending a scholia and a 4th century CE source.) It does have a protective effect even in Rome, but as the blood connection to the royal family (via Aeneas and thus later the gens Julia) is extremely thin at that point, it's not at all a very strong protection.

Green is the eye colour for fresh-water nymphs! (Blue for ocean-connected ones.) Which means the whole Trojan royal family have green eyes in various shades and degree, and it is always very bright and intense colour. Around the generation of Priam's children hazel has become more usual, but even then the green element is very obvious and still more-than-mortal intense/bright.

Xanthos and Simoeis tacitly agree not to marry any of their daughters into Priam/Anchises' generation (or the one after), exactly because they can tell something is coming. It's nothing against the family suddenly, in fact especially Xanthos becomes more actively protective, but they don't want to tie any of their daughters into what might be tragedy. (It becomes far more of a tragedy than they'd assumed, however, which both affirms their choice but also horrifies them both.)

[aemiron-main]

need to know if you guys see the Vision TM

older byler in their 40s and they’re That gay couple who’s been together forever and are still completely in love and can basically read eachother’s minds

and will still wears flannels even though his hair’s shaggier now, not as much of a tight bowlcut but still vaguely bowlcut shaped.

and mike’s hair has grown out a fair bit, not super long, probably about the same length as his s4 hair, maybe a bit longer, but he’s grown out the bangs into longer bangs/shorter in the front with a middle part and he’s got grey streaks in his hair and will teases him about it because “going grey at 45, Mike? am I really that stressful to deal with?” and Mike laughs and tells Will that he’d deal with a million grey hairs for him and that if Will-related stress was the reason for his grey hair, he would’ve been fully grey by the age of 13 between things like Will’s disappearance and the upside down and his own feelings for Will.

(will “making fun of his husband” byers and mike “responds to the teasing in a genuinely affectionate way” wheeler)

Both of them still play dnd, and so does the party, and they’re a successful writer-artist duo, and Will still sleeps with a lamp or nightlight on and Mike still turns said lamp/nightlight on for Will because he’s been doing it for the last 30 years and isn’t gonna stop now.

They’re still just. Themselves. Mike grins at Will in the same way that he did in s1 during dnd, and the same way that he did in s3 after the “Not possible” scene, except he does it more often now, every morning while Will complains about being awake at an ungodly hour because he stayed awake painting until 4 am the night before, and his shoulders are sore and Mike makes fun of him for his poor choices but also makes Will coffee and presses down on Will’s shoulders to try and loosen them up.

They’re!! Domestic!! And able to be with eachother!!!!

And El visits all the time, by herself but also with Max and Lucas and Dustin in tow, and Mike still makes comments about how having Will and El, two twins with both telekinetic powers AND a mischievous streak, powers aside, in the same room is a “workplace safety hazard because I work from home and therefore the whole house is my workplace”

Max makes fun of Mike’s taste in home decor but then Mike is a petty freak (affectionate, as always) and so lies dramatically and tells Max that “Will picked out that piece of decor and it has a deep sentimental meaning to him, actually,”

And max has to point out that “she’d buy that excuse and feel bad about making fun of Will’s taste in furniture (not mike’s), if it wasn’t for the fact that the item in question is literally the beefy dragon poster that El told her had been hanging in Mike’s bedroom since highschool”

Mike sputters and tries to accuse max of being homophobic because “it’s an artistic representation of my sexuality actually, because I’m gay and it’s a dragon man” and Max laughs her ass off because a.) she’s bi and b.) mike please it’s a shirtless buff dragon just give up at this point

(will and Lucas witness the whole exchange and are sharing a Look TM and quietly laughing with eachother.)

Mike is back to his dramatic self, the one that screeched and flailed during dnd games, the one with wide gestures and dramatic monologues and a borderline comedically expressive face. Will watches him quietly, with a smile on his face, because despite Mike’s bantering with Max, mike is grinning, and he’s a great host, surprisingly, despite his years of reclusive, snarky lone wolf behaviour- which, don’t get Will wrong, that side of mike still absolutely exists- but it’s nice to see Mike so full of life, see how just his presence makes their house into a home regardless of any buff dragon decor. Especially considering the frigid atmosphere that seemed to coat the Wheeler house over the years, every part of it except the basement, no matter how hard Karen tried to be hospital, or how bright of and orange cough they bought to put in an even brighter, yellow-cream painted living room, there was still always an air of coldness. A distance.

But now, Mike lives in a house full of life and joy and warmth- scratch that, the house is full of life and joy and warmth because Mike’s in it.

While Max is making fun of Mike’s taste in decor, and Lucas and Will are laughing at Mike’s expense, Dustin and El aren’t letting Will off the hook that easily. They’re snooping around his art. They come out of his and Mike’s shared office/studio area with grins on their faces, and Will immediately feels his heart drop.

El and Dustin have totally seen Will’s latest painting for Mike’s birthday- Will paints for Mike every year, and every year, El jokes about having commissioned it, and this year won’t be any different. Dustin and El are giggling amongst themselves as they walk up to Will, pulling him away from where he’s still watching Mike and Max argue, out of earshot of Mike, and Will knows what’s coming when El starts pointing out things like “Will, I thought we agreed on no dragons for the commission,” or “I think that the sky is slightly too blue,” or “I don’t really think that shade of orange really shows your-I mean, my love for Mike.” and Dustin is laughing his ass off the whole time and Will rolls his eyes and laughs along too, firing back at El and telling her that’s he’s surprised that she finally figured out what a commission is (harkening back to El’s confusion from years ago when Mike had asked her about her commissioning the painting from Will and she’d had to ask mike what a ‘commission’ was)

Mike, who’s rolling his eyes dramatically and throwing his hands in the air and muttering something about “taste,” and when he sees Lucas laughing at him, something about how “max has absolutely none of it and that’s why she’s dating Lucas,” and Mike stomps over (good-naturedly) to Will and El and Dustin, to see what’s so funny, and Max and Lucas follow him, and immediately, El stares wide-eyed at mike, cutting off her own sentence and trying not to laugh because Will is giving her a look that says “okay yes our banter is fun but if you spoil his birthday painting, i Will explode you with my mind”

and El gives him a “no I’m gonna explode YOU with my mind” look right back.

but they both still smile at eachother and El doesn’t spoil the painting and Mike is watching this all go down and whining about Will and El and “telepathy, I swear they can read eachothers’ minds, guys, you should be worried about this too, because once they take me out, they’re coming for you next-” and then whines about “friends don’t lie!” and El snorts at that one because come ON, mike you can’t still be pulling that card, and technically she isn’t lying because she hasn’t said anything.

And Mike flops dramatically onto Will, who’s still standing, and to his credit, barely falters when mike drops the entirety of his weight onto Will, going full ragdoll mode and acting as if his death is imminent. Will, who’s holding mike up under Mike’s arms, in a more comedic version of of how Mike was holding an unconscious Will outside of the hospital in s2, except mike is very much conscious, and facing Will, and looking up at him with fake sad eyes as he monologues about his demise and how he can’t go on and how he can’t believe that Will is keeping secrets from him and Will just hoists Mike’s still-limp and pretending to die body upwards and gives him a little kiss because he loves his dramatic husband.

Everyone in the room makes fake gagging noises at the two of them and mike flips them off, but he’s grinning as he does it because “holy shit even though it’s been like this for 30 years I can’t believe that Will Byers is my husband and all my friends are here and I get to flop dramatically onto him whenever I want and even if my friends complain they’re not actually judgemental and they complain the same whenever Lucas and Max or Max and El are being a couple,”

And then Mike un-worms/de-limps/de-ragdolls himself so that he can stand behind Will and wrap his arms around Will’s shoulders and chat with his friends and rest his chin on top of Will’s head and grab Will’s hand and fidget with Will’s wedding ring while Will has a long conversation with Dustin about some drama in the comic book/artist community, and while Lucas stretches out on the couch and El sticks her tongue out at mike in a “your dramatic fake death didn’t break my resolve, sorry mike, you’ll have to wait to figure out what Will and I were talking about,” way, and Mike sticks his tongue out right back at her in a “I don’t actually want the surprise to be ruined but I AM petty and dramatic” way and El flicks Mike’s face and Mike shouts and dramatically starts complaining again and Will is unfazed and just keeps talking to Dustin and reaches a hand up to soothe Mike’s mortal face wound, and Mike leans into Will’s hand like a particularly pathetic cat and starts fiddling with Will’s wedding ring again.

And they’re all just!! Happy!!! And Mike eventually abandons Will (sorry will, Mike gives him a kiss on the head in apology) to go and bother Lucas because he was fine listening to Will talk, because he always wants to listen to Will talk, no matter what the subject is, but he’s not sure how much longer he can listen to Dustin rant about variant covers and drama between publishers and why he’s certain that if Will would just give Dustin the address and name of the one writer that Will did artwork for but who didn’t pay him, Dustin could persuade him to pay Will what he owes by getting Suzie to hack into his computer and ransoming his data.

Which also means that Dustin might get some ~ insider info~ about new releases and how that’s totally not the ONLY reason he’s do it because the mean reason is to scare him into paying Will, but it’s a nice little side benefit. (you’re late to the party, Dustin, Mike thinks, because Will already had to talk Mike out of marching over to the guy’s house and kicking his ass, let alone ‘ransoming his data,’ whatever that means)

And so Mike goes over to bother Lucas, and they still swat at eachother like 12 year olds, and Max kicks Mike in the shin and Mike howls over it and then kicks Lucas in the shin in retaliation because Lucas was closer and also he’s slightly afraid of Max if he was to kick her (usually he’d go head to head with her but he hasn’t forgotten about the time a few years ago when she picked Mike straight up around the waist like how one awkwardly picks up a pet dog and threw him into a pool despite her being, like, half of mike’s height.) And El laughs at them all and goes to join in with Dustin and Will because Will looks genuinely exasperated now because “no, Dustin, I’m not giving you his address- no, I’m not giving you his his mother’s maiden name either, how would I even know what it is?? If Suzie’s such a great hacker, why does she need it?? And even then, she’s not hacking into his computer!!”

And El distracts Dustin by claiming that she’s “going to get her commission” and running into Will and Mike’s office/studio room and Will appreciates her distracting Dustin but also bolts after her because “oh my god, come ON, El, the painting isn’t THAT gay,” but El is already laughing because “even the clouds have heart shaped in them”

and Dustin is making comments about how “he thought the heart on the shield in the first painting was a little too obvious but somehow the subtle hearts hidden in the pattern on Paladin!mike’s shirt and in the clouds is even worse” (worse in an affectionate way, worse in a “oh my god dude you are SO in love” way)

And once everyone heads home, and does that thing at the door where they keep saying that they need to be heading home but keep talking with eachother instead, but then finally actually go home, Mike closes the door and holds Will close and buried his face into Will’s hair and fidgets with his own wedding ring while his arms arm across Will’s back because he can’t believe that this is his life, that they made it out of everything, that he gets to be with Will, gets to be with his friends, gets to be himself.

[mournmeal]

Good evening my mourning doves! I’m in the market for some longterm roleplay partners / friends for Baldur’s Gate 3! Please read it all to avoid confusion BEFORE reaching out. If this all sounds good to you then feel free to message me! I won’t bite. …. I’ll bite you if you ask. THE VOICES. Sorry it was my demons.

Also wanted to add just in case this may apply to someone’s interest, if you are seeking for a Tav ( or Durge ) to write with, are fine with them being a woman and you are wanting to write Astarion ( Spawn or Ascended ), Raphael, Haarlep, any of them you can also reach out to me!

( And for anyone who finds this and recognizes me, I promise to work on your reply early tomorrow or at some point tonight. )

ABOUT MYSELF :

• I’m 24 and you can call me Asta. Any pronouns are fine by me.

• I will only write with adults who are 20 and will gladly accept older. Please do respect this boundary.

• I’d say my style is Multiple Paragraph Novella. A sucker for details and tend to get carried away when enjoying the roleplay. No need to match length, but do give me something to work with. I write in third person.

• Currently unable to work, but have intentions to work from home. Though this means I will be very active. And at ungodly hours …

• I have decided to no longer be ghost friendly. This goes for myself and others. So, to avoid wasting handing out my discord I’d prefer we feel each other out before that exchange. If I get busy with anything I will properly give a heads up. Should I be away for a long period of time.

• I am comfortable writing mature content ( whether that be dark themes. containing violence, blood, dead dove, to smut. ) However I do not want mainly smut focused roleplays. And I do not want to be thrown in head first into smut. Rich Plot with smut my beloved. THOUGH we can still make nsfw headcanons whenever we please.

WHAT I OFFER :

• A longer term writing partner and friend. I’d love to vibe with you ! Match each other’s energy. I don’t want the connection to be transactional. Let’s bond over our silly little game with our silly little characters.

• Love writing OC x CC. And would love to hype up the ship of your Tav / Durge with the character you want.

• Currently accepting double ups! I am more than happy to play any origin character you desire. Or any other characters. Examples being Rolan, Raphael, Haarlep, you get the idea.

• Parings can be MxM. FxF. FxM. NBxF. NBxM. Whatever! This is a safe space. Trans Tavs/Durges are always welcome!

• Me being absolutely down bad for your Tav / Durge. I will hype that babe up like my life depends on it. If you can’t tell, I adore when people create their own characters and give them lore. Flood me with pictures of them, with your headcanons, ALL OF IT. I crave sustenance. Me having to resist the urge of saying our Tav’s should kiss.

• We can have our own little discord server to send moodboards, headcanons, music, videos edits, and the list goes on. Let’s gush over our characters and ships like insane friends do. Literally. Go crazy. I will chime right in any hour. … As long as I’m not napping.

• I enjoy sprinkling other characters into my writings to really help set the scene or add some more depth / detail to our storyline. So if we end up in a situation where they are needed or if we just want them there from time to time for plot - I can do that.

• Also? If you have BG3 on computer WE SHOULD PLAY IT TOGETHER SOMETIME. Let’s go create mass chaos. But be warned I do encourage trying to fight everything.

WHAT I’D LIKE :

• Honestly damn near everything I already stated above. LMFAO.

• Longterm writing partners / friends only. Consistency will be important. As I’m also going to try and be that way too. So if you know you ghost don’t bother.

• I’d like to write as my Tav / Durge who is a female. ( I plan to make more with various gender identities for other runs! And sexualities. This one is pansexual.)

• For her love interest in think maybe Astarion? ( Spawn or Ascended. ) Raphael? Haarlep? My answer may change depending on my muse at the moment so who knows. ( You can still want for me to write as them for you! )

• Would love for our Tav’s / Durge’s to interact! Love making headcanons for them. Creating a dynamic for them.

• Anyone who wants to write dark themes here and there! Dead dove is allowed! We just need to discuss it of course for each other’s comfort. Eat up whatever drama we want going on.

• Speaking of drama. Should you want some where some other character seems to have eyes for your Tav / Durge to get some jealous action … I will fuel that fire. As I’ve said before. We can go crazy. It’s roleplay, let’s have fun!

• Let’s make moodboards, throw / bounce headcanons, share music, create au’s even, whatever we want.

• If anything else comes to mind I’ll throw it here or in our messages. But yes. Message me if interested!! Look forward to meeting you!

[tobiasdrake]

Now that we have our new party member, it's time for another story time with Teaks.

This is the big one.

Okay what the fuck is this and why did my Captain's Quarters get wasted on it.

I would have been more than happy to let Hortence have the Captain's Quarters since she's been here the longest and has the most claim to this ship, crime notwithstanding.

I could deal with the fictional Captain Cliche having the Captain's Quarters despite Serai not even bothering to use that guise while she's here, thus resulting in an empty bedchamber.

But why does the new blood get it? I don't care if you're basically God, you fucking work your way up the ladder like the rest of us! >_< I'm so furious right now.

And yet you gave him the Captain's Quarters.

I mean. Okay, in fairness, Teaks did that. I don't know why she has the authority to do that, though.

No. I want to throttle you with my bare hands.

However, much like Garl, it is impossible for me to physically be angry with you for any length of time. So I just have all of this aggression and nowhere to put it. I just... I JUST FUCKING....

._. Will you please make me a sandwich I can drown my fury in, thank you very much.

Yes, the usual.

*sigh* Okay, Teaks. Now I want to hear a story. It's finally time to find out exactly who the Archivist/TIA and the Fleshmancer are.

Huh. I figured TIA was some kind of ungodly horror beneath those robes, but apparently he's just zombie-faced. Mm, I feel bad about telling him to go take a shower now. It would not help.

You guys should sit down and chat with Roro. She owns it. Has a whole undead style of her own.

Hold up, he's jealous of our ephemerality? He hates us 'cause we die? That's it? It's not, like, he hates us 'cause we're pretty or he longs to taste good food and not have to dress in rags or something? He's just pissy because he wants to be able to die too?

My dude, you don't have to unleash apocalyptic horrors upon mankind in order to fulfill that desire. If all you want is to be ephemeral, come hang out with me and Zale and we'll work on that. I'd be more than happy to experiment.

Ohhh, I get it. He doesn't have a heart anymore 'cause he used it for his experiments.

He's Disney evil.

You know, I thought you were going to tell me that Resh'an was responsible for Solstice magic but apparently it's just. Like. A thing that happened to also exist, and that trumps the Fleshmancer's stuff... because?

I may have to reassess my comprehension of the Fleshmancer and TIA. The Archivist's opening explanation of the lore made me think these guys were, like... primeval forces of good and evil or something, wreaking vast influence across some enormous multiverse.

Like. I figured they had terrestrial origins in some world somewhere. They had the vibe of ancient wizards who came from meager origins and ascended into godhood. In that regard, I suppose I had them pegged right.

But that seemed like a "Long time ago in a universe far, far away" type of origin, where they've been these ancient supreme beings of good and evil ever since. But Teaks is making this sound a lot more local.

They're just two more guys who accidentallied themselves into a horrifying curse. TIA has nothing to do with the source of Solstice magic. He doesn't even know what it is, really; Just that whatever we are, it sure does kick the shit out of whatever Aephorul's become.

He didn't create us; He found us and went "HOLY FUCK That's powerful! Let's use it!"

I've been shittalking him out of irreverence but. Like. Now, I think that we might be higher on the Hierarchy of WTF than TIA and the Fleshmancer are. Even if TIA is still, admittedly, higher on the Hierarchy of Knowing What The Fuck You're On About.

So if he founded the Solstice Warriors, does that mean TIA is the Great Eagle? Is he the guy I need to beat the shit out of for the unsettling horror of Mooncradle?

Because I can't do it until he tells us how to get onto Mesa Island. But I do want my Captain's Quarters back....

Or a longer window of Whenever We Goddamn Want if you have this fancy amulet. Which was just sitting abandoned in an ice block for how many decades/centuries?

Hey Resh'an? I don't want to tell you how to be the Immortal Alchemist but if you were that concerned with Solstice Warriors defeating Dwellers and you knew where this thing was all along, uh... what the hell, man?

When exactly did we lose track of this thing? Because absolutely none of the ancient Solstice lore I learned from Moraine suggests that it even exists somewhere to be found. We've been using these fancy time runes for day/night manipulation on a small scale while biding our time to strike at Dwellers on eclipse nights. Meanwhile our founder has had coordinates for Pocket Eclipse in his back pocket this whole time. I'm kind of angry about that.

Yeah, that's part of what had me thinking this was some kind of multiversal conflict. Obviously World Eaters must have, like... eaten some worlds in order to be a known thing, right? I assume we know about them from Resh'an; If he was our founder then our lore would be passed down from him. Though he didn't see fit to tell us about Pocket Eclipse so who knows?

Or maybe he did, and Moraine just didn't bother to tell me because I was kind of a shitty student.

Or maybe Moraine did tell me and I just wasn't paying attention. I was kind of a shitty student.

Hm.

In any case, to be known as World Eaters, one imagines they've eaten some worlds. And that this isn't one that they've eaten yet. So these guys can't be a purely terrestrial phenomenon, right?

Oh, so it's both. They are a terrestrial phenomenon but Resh'an created a multiverse through a grandiose gesture of magic.

That's...

That's kind of promising? Like. Metaphysically, that could mean that if circumstances conspire in such a way that we kill Aephorul in any one timeline or reality, fucker will be dead in all timelines and realities because there's only one of him.

This isn't an independent multiverse that Aephorul's invading and attacking. It's a multiverse of attempts to resist Aephorul. We only have to win once. Statistics are on our side.

Even if there's only 1 in 1000 chance of someone defeating Aephorul, if you roll 10,000 dice....

That's why he let us into his library even though we are clearly not the Chosen Ones. It's what he was trying to figure out at the start. We're a dice toss. ^_^

But that's also why he's being so KEEP ME OUT OF IT with regard to Aephorul. Because the same logic applies to him. Aephorul only has to kill him once. In a cosmic sense, we're all expendable compared to him, because there's millions of other versions of us. He can always go back to the drawing board and try something else. Maybe a different version of us, or maybe someone else who might actually be the Chosen Ones. But if anything happens to him, that's game over.

This makes way more sense when Teaks explains it than when TIA tried to. Probably because she's giving me the full story while he's a cryptic bastard. Resh'an is stuck navigating causality to try and find a chain of events that will lead to success against the impossible.

If the dude's so pissy about not being ephemeral, you'd think the sameyness of those realities might bother him a little. Wouldn't you eventually get bored conquering the same world over and over and over again?

These two are playing very different video games.

And that's what Resh'an was on about when he was like, "You don't understand; If Aephorul finds out that I'm here, he'll return."

It's not because he's hiding out from Aephorul. It's because he's violating the terms of the agreement. Resh'an is cheating right now, in a way that would give Aephorul tacit permission to do the same if caught.

Teaks, from now on, can we make this a rule? Can people tell you the lore dumps and then you can explain them to me? You're so good at this.

So now I'm starting to get more of an understanding of what Guardian Gods are too. Like, we knew it was the evolution of Solstice Warriors into some kind of deity. But, specifically, it's our counterpart to World Eaters; Guardian Gods because the pair become a force of Solstice magic that Aephorul can't pierce, on account of our magic being higher on the Hierarchy of WTF.

Uh, probably when he wins, I would say. No sense in doing it while Aephorul's still out there, right?

I adore you, Teaks, but sometimes you ask dumb questions.

[dreamerlucifer]

A sleep deprived Dove was curled up onto the couch of the hotel; the nightmares wouldn't stop plaguing her, and it was taking a toll on her. Tear stains covered her cheeks, tucked into a ball as she struggled to stay awake..

"Another long day..." Gasped Lucifer as he finally got the chance to leave that ungodly boring, and most one sided argument heaven had given him so far to date on extermination and why it should still remain even after a soul from Hell was able to Ascend... "I mean, what was the point of dragging it out for 3 hours when they weren't even going to give me a word in edgewise??"

His disdain grew well past his normal breaking points this time, but somehow, this situation was starting to feel a tad more dire than situations of the past.. What with everyone now aware that Angels could be killed, there were bound to be those getting ready to uprise against heaven, while at the same time, Residents of Hell were being able to Ascend to the pearly gates... Surely the inner workings of the world were slowly being turned onto their own head!-

--OOOP-- came the odd noise from Lucifer, as he had been completely taken by surprise when he literally bowled over the younger Cannibaltown couple he normally spied hanging out near the quarry... Normally, he would have stopped to offer some apologetic form of assistance.. But, NO, not today, as he was already WAY MORE concerned about the possibility of missing Charlie's game of cards over at the new hotel...

Now, hmmmm, which form of cards was it they were planning on tonight..

"Ughhh.... Damnnn.." No matter how many times he placed reminders about the mansion for the month, or took the time to remind himself of the game by name, there was just no way Lucifer could get it right DX...

FLASHBACK 1- A devastating loss at poker when He thoroughly believed the game to be played had to do with Bullshit!

FLASHBACK 2- Yet another devastating loss when he had mistook Egyptian Ratscrew for Slap-Jack

"Welp, Luci, third time's a charm, right??" He said to himself as he ran down the many streets towards the new hotel, his hope being to trick himself back into having some form of confidence when it came to card games at all.... Card games were never really quite his strong suit..

Soon enough though, he found himself close to the entryway to Charlie's Hazbin Hotel. Rounding his way past a cute memorial to Sir Pencious, he slowed his pace just before slamming into the large double door entryway...

"Well well well, fancy meeting you on this.. FINE night, My shortest of Kings!!" --

"Can it, Alastor!!" He said smoothly, barely a tinge of his usual rage for the Radio Demon.. "Where's Charlie at, anyway?.." his tone immediately lifting into a melody as her name left his lips..

"Ohhh, your little 'Char Char' won't be here tonight, I'm afraid.." The smile growing ever more sinister, as if beckoning Lucifer to ask--

"Woaa, wait wait, waiiiitt, what?" His face was NOT amused in the least as he attempted to question why...

Not even giving Lucifer the satisfaction of a glance, Alastor continued, "Ohh, wellll, it just so happens that we've gotten some new recruits pretty late in the day today." His head cocked slightly as he watched Lucifer with great amusement, Luci's brisk walk slowing to a halt...

"Aww, REALLY??," he sneered at the radio demon...

In walked Angel, his slow movement only acting to accentuate the overall lefthand sided limp, "Guys, Charlie told me to pass the message that she'll be really late," Obviously worn well out, all onlookers automatically assume it to have been a studio day with Val...

Passing Lucifer slowly, Angel reached a hand out unbeknownst to the Small King.. At full arm's length, Angel dropped his hand onto Lucifer, the Fallen Angel's casually dressed left shoulder...

-ACK!!!- He exclaimed, completely unexpectant of the grab on his left shoulder, "Angel DUST!!!" He yelled, barely able to coax himself back down to a normal tone.., "What on earth was that for??"

"Woaa, now, Easy Mr. Short King!!" played Angel, though still very visibly in great pain from the days events, "Charlie had a special message for you!!"

But before Lucifer could shoot back, Angel continued, only, seriously this time, "Yea, she wanted you to check on one of the new arrivals. It seemed like the two had come together at first, but after talking to the one guy, Charlie's pretty certain that the girl still here in the hotel was by herself." He said as he motioned down towards to Guests' signature book in the great hall. "Her room number is written in the Guest book, so uhh, don't go screwin' it up, kay?" Angel took a minute to motion to Husk, I mean, it WAS his time to relax, right?? Short King can wait a hot second, sure he could.. "Look, its easy, just check in on the kid, see if they're hungry or something, and we'll take care of the rest, "he said, "SIMPLE!" And with that, Angel's focus was back on Husk as they seemed to have just struck up an argument on the strength each drink should be, naturally..

Woa.... He thought to himself, with renewed vigor!! Charlie trusts me... ME???? with one of their precious hotel screw ups?? "NO, don't just screw this up, Luci," He scolded himself as he wondered over to the guest book. This has to run smoothly, no.... PERFECTLY!!!!!... I'll just have to show Charlie what she's been missing while depending on that drowned rat, Alastor, as hotelier...

Looking from line to line, Lucifer decided that the one he was looking for HAD to be in room 1408... So before anyone else could stop and pester him, he took straight off for the 14th floor, 8th room ♥

He knew it wasn't necessary, but hey, why walk when you have the full on outright usage of a form of teleportation! Right? That's exactly what he thought...

He went to hop right in front of 1408 and knock loudly, but something down the hall had caught his eye first..-

To his sad surprise, was what looked to be a beautiful young woman laying on one of the great hall couches... His expression softened greatly as he approached her further, though... as he watched intently... small tremors seemed to be overtaking the poor girl..., "Uhmm, excuse me," He began, his voice light yet smooth.. He waited for a response, but none came, so he tried yet again.. "Miss? Are you alright?.. Because it seems you have been--" She still didn't stir...

Thinking to himself, Lucifer then decided to touch her lightly, perhaps helping her to awaken from what appeared to be.. this deep, dark Nightterror... So ever so gently, he shifted her with the use of his staff's magical properties, so as not to distress her. But once his spell had been set in motion, he realized much too late, that this was most certainly the wrong approach, as she was indeed already AWAKE!

Taken aback by that, Lucifer opened his mouth to apologize.. but then stopped-- His expression much warmer, concerned, and ready...

The ever darkening stains on both of the beautiful girl's cheeks spoke so much just to begin with..

Lucifer waved his staff in a circular manor, not a huge spell by any means, but this very small one would suffice ♥ The spell conjured a medium sized blanket, made of the finest microfibers. It was a pretty little blanket, adorned with small white and yellow ducklings, and its texture was that of the softest of furs... Warm enough to make one feel safe, yet light enough to allow them to drift amidst the endless astral planes..

Once close by, he easily spread the blanket out over the poor lost soul, careful to tuck the edges as he slowly leaned back to sit on the couch beside her.. "You know," Lucifer started, "I was terrified when I came to this place for the first time too..." His warm smile aided him as he caressed the hair on her head, "But just as I thought it was the end of the world..," He took a deep breath, a tear in his eye, "I found out not a day later, that I had been entirely wrong!!" He sniffled lightly, his eye immediately finding a portrait of Charlie on the great wall.., "Now, tell me, small teary one, What brings you here, to our very own, Hazbin Hotel?" ♥ ....

[jyou-no-sonoko19]

hi. there is something I've been meaning to ask hope you could help me with. so how to draw a character (human) into a certain animal? like what you do in bunwell. there are some characters I want to give them what if they were a dog but like that. I don't really know where to look or where to start so I was hoping you can give me a tip or guide me where to look?

ty

Ooh, anthro question, interesting!

So the first thing to do is fine-tune your animal choice to a species level, to the degree that the animal both has some visual similarities to the human (think sharpness of features, length of hair, colouring) and personality associations (like labrador retriever for a really loyal, good-natured person, or a maltese poodle for someone who can be quite prissy and temperamental).

If you don't have any experience drawing anthro, I'd recommend studying some classic styles to get an idea of what sort of stylisation you want to do, such as Disney's Robin Hood for a more realistic set of features, or for something cartoonier, try Warner Brother's Road Rovers or Jim Henson's Dog City (the animated segments, but the puppets can be helpful too). Those are specifically useful for diverse dog anthro references.

Once you've chosen your species, there's the trickiest part: creating an ungodly fusion of human and beast! >:o If you want to keep human hair the same as the source, you'll want to use animal ears, but sometimes you can merge the animal's ears with the human hair, such as with a cocker spaniel whose ears lie in a similar way; this allows you to keep the shape of their heads quite close to the human's. Another big important choice is how much of a snout you want the anthro to have: an advantage of shortening the snout is that your face can look more human but with a few animal features, but that does take away from the recognisability of the species, and can come off as a lack of dedication to the concept. If a person has sharp features, embrace a pointier snout!

In the end, though, don't feel too hemmed in by the breed you've chosen, because this is stylisation. For instance, if you wanted to draw Laura DeMille as a rough collie anthro, because of their Scottish ancestry and their ample, long fur, but prefer the colouring and curly ears of a boykin spaniel, go ahead and say you're anthro is a mix of both! (This can be a particularly fun technique if the person you're anthroing is of mixed heritage, and you can research breeds for both sides) It's worth noting that there is a particularly maligned form of anthro where vastly different animals -- such as a fox and eagle -- are mixed in order to gain a specific set of features, for an essentially impossible species. But the degree to which the anti-science of this matters to you relies on how much the world you're creating follows specific biological rules that mirror our own (eg. wolves and domestic dogs can breed, snakes and frogs cannot). For an example of a fantasy series that threw all that out the window for a truly charming cast of characters, check out Disney's The Wuzzles (thereby wrapping up my tendency of recommending show that were on in my childhood), which includes Bumblelion (a bee and lion mix), Butterbear (a bear and butterfly) and Rhinokey (a rhinosaurus and monkey).

Traditionally, anthro characters are clothed, but artists tend to be split on how much human modesty concerns should apply to them: for instance, many (usually male) anthro characters wear only a tshirt or other item, leaving their more animal-shaped hindquarters and tail exposed. This can be particularly useful for characters whose bodies could make tailoring clothing difficult. It's also an issue of some variation whether female characters should have human secondary sex characteristic (breasts and wide hips) or just retain a similar body shape to their animal aspect, but bipedal. Many artists deal with the latter issue by using some kind of fur-ruff at the chest to mimic a female human silhouette without adding breasts (and thereby suggesting that their mammaries go down their stomachs, like in regular dogs, etc).

Good luck with your designing, and feel free to tag me in your sketches! :D I'm always interested in seeing how artists choose to do their anthros.

[human-souls-buy-dopamine]

Idk why I'm suddenly wanting to post a bunch of random unrelated shit but eh. Here we go I guess, under a cut because idk how long this'll get 😭 also tw, heavy discussion of religion (christianity) and religion-based homophobia/transphobia

So like. Love our grandma to death right. Never will stop loving her. Just GOD sometimes she frustrates us so much 😭 (for context we live with her, she's our parent)

I can't tell if she's trying to be accepting or if she's not sometimes? It's so confusing. She let us have a pride flag, let us get a binder, she sometimes tries to use our pronouns and stuff. But then on the other side of things she just. Also tries to slip stuff about Christianity and whatnot into a lot of conversation about it

Like. Okay, she has a right to her own religious beliefs, just like we have a right to our own religious beliefs. None of our business. But it's so difficult when she claims to accept us and then spouts blatant transphobia and homophobia, votes for the guy literally trying to take away our rights, tells us that "God only made man and woman," etc—

Also the fact that, during our stay at the children's home, we briefly had a period where we genuinely tried to believe in christianity (as opposed to pretending bc you basically had to there) and so we read some verses on those topics + others. And unless there's proof of it being some translation error, homosexuality is mentioned both in the new and old testament!! I can't recall if the word itself is used for Soddam and Gomorrah, but in the NT there's a few that are just. Way too direct to ignore

"(9) Or do you not know that wrongdoers will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor adulterers nor men who have sex with men (10) nor thieves nor the greedy nor drunkards nor slanderers nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God." (1 Corinthians 6:9-10)

"(9) We also know that the law is made ... for lawbreakers and rebels, the ungodly and sinful, the unholy and irreligious, for those who kill their fathers or mothers, for murderers, (10) for the sexually immoral, for those practicing homosexuality..." (1 Timothy 1:9-10, omitted some parts for length but I kept the meaning)

With that being said, you can't exactly cherrypick here. It's very explicitly stated, and while it very well could be a 'translation error', I haven't seen anything that supports/points that conclusion. (Not to say it doesn't exist, just we personally haven't)

So like. It's difficult to not feel frustrated, especially since she wants us to go to church— Like, you can't claim to support us as we are and then believe the thing that says we're condemned to hell for it?

And, maybe I'm making shit up here, but in our years of being in a conservative Christian town and listening to sermons, the way that sin is talked about is very much framed as a choice? Like, obviously in Christianity it's believed that humans are inherently sinful/unworthy (which is a whole nother can of worms), but you *commit* sins. You *commit* murder, you *commit* idolatry, you *commit* sexual immorality, etc— Gramatically I can't frame everything in that language, but you get the idea. While humans are apparently predisposed to sin, it's never implied (to us, at least, and from what we've read) that some people just ARE murderers, ARE idolaters, ARE cheaters, etc— people choose to commit these acts while having the option not to.

Therefore, using that logic, in Christianity, being anything besides straight would be a choice. Which we know from experience isn't true— Like, sure, we love our identity, but stars, dude, wouldn't it be a hell of a lot easier if we could just be cishet?? Why would we continually CHOOSE to be something that puts us at risk of being the target of a hate crime, of being murdered, of being harassed?

We've brought up these points, but it's like she just. Doesn't acknowledge it? Or she'll just go "I don't know why" when we bring up the last point, as if she thinks we ARE faking it somehow ???? It's like.,.,,,., ma'am. I love you. Please realize that while I'm fine letting you have your religious beliefs, as any decent person should be, if I were to be insistent about my own the way you are about yours you'd say I'm persecuting you. Your stance is inconsistent and we are rhe ones who have to live with the knowledge that under your beliefs we are a sinner condemned to hell for something we cannot control. That sucks. Like, I love you, but it sucks.

Idk man I'm just. Agh. I love her and she's a great parent, she takes care of us and loves us and provides honesyly a LOT for what we have available, don't get me wrong!! it's just this specific topic that bugs me aghhh

[dkettchen]

✂👖 updating y'all on my pants adventures 👖✂

I decided to try and make a wearable, full-length mock-up to test out my initial block pattern from the other week, thinking it was gonna be easy and chill and merely a matter of adding the like pockets and stuff, right, it couldn't possibly be that far off at this point, right, I mean I put all that effort into the initial pattern the other week after all! HOW LONG COULD THIS POSSIBLY TAKE! 🤦‍♀️

I cut it out with straight wide legs and like A LOT of seam allowance (like a solid 5cm or so) to make sure I could futz with it if needed, thread marked the seam lines (do not trust chalk on this fabric), sewed it up, only leaving the front bit open to pin closed later, and tried it on!

It didn't fit properly! (waistline not straight, crotch not the look I want) So I was going to have to do a bunch more fitting! Again! 🙃🤡

I thread marked the small new changes (straightening/lowering back waist line, crotch futzing in the front to get more space) and did the second fitting.

After that didn't make it work much better, I ended up ripping out most of the crotch middle seam in order to be able to adjust it more freely to figure out wth was wrong with it and how to fix it.

Added an ungodly amount in the middle section as you can see in the pics below (there's also a whole triangle in the back that you can't see properly in the back-view pic), took in some of the side bits to straighten out the shape again.

I pinned some of the top seam allowance to make a new, higher waistline as the previous one had gotten quite low and I wanted space to futz with.

I also pinned some of the back of the leg trying to fit it around the butt but I couldn't figure out where on earth I would transfer that fullness to to take it out of a seam, so I decided to leave it out for the next attempt for the time being. (Still market it on the pattern for now tho.)

Transferred the changes to the pattern (some of em didn't quite make sense (like that back middle crotch area doing a convex line instead of a concave one??) and had to be evened out to function)

[mslanna]

Red-Handed in Hell

Chapter 5 of Be My Guest now on AO3

In which Haarlep has to endure the ordeal of being seen as their own person, Tav argues with Raphael about poetry until they are both bothered but only one gets release.

I got WAY too invested in the literary argument here. *le sigh* Yes, I am sorry. Yes, it is likely to happen again. 😔

Tav shifts from one leg to the other for an uncomfortable minute before they dash into the boudoir. The devil has returned to his war and for a hot moment Tav worries how this will look if Raphael instead returned here for a second scolding

The incubus is on the bed, their lounge a little strained. They raise their head when Tav approaches and the spite in their eyes is unusually muted. Tav wonders what you can do to another fiend without it showing. Slightly slumped shoulders paint a clear enough sign.

Tav approaches the bed carefully. "Haarps? You don't look so good."

An eyebrow rises at the informal address. "Ah, there they are. My precious little blabbermouse."

"Are you alright?"

"Of course," the incubus replies lightly. "For a certain amount of alright.

Tav climbs onto the bed and scrutinises Haarlep closely. On the surface, at least, there are no wounds, bruises or scars. "I'm so sorry. I asked him to be kind to you and that was the exact wrong thing to say I tried to mitigate it, but…" Tav trails off.

The other eyebrow rises as Haarlep tilts their head. "Did you beg on your bare knees, little mouse? Sucked him off there and then?"

"I- No!" Tav is taken aback.

The incubus snorts in disbelief. "Then this," they indicate the length of their body, "is a veritable miracle. Are you sure you didn't do something outrageous to him? So depraved and dirty his horny little horns fell right off?"

Tav blushes violently. Not just at the thought but at the ungodly amount of details their own brain supplies to conceivable scenarios. "I did nothing," they stutter. "Nothing but ask, I swear."

"Curious." Haarlep doesn't sound as if the believe the human, but they drop the subject. "So, what do you want?" They sound tired.

"I just wanted to check on you. See if Raphael kept his word." Tan presses their hands between their knees. "See if there's something I can do to help. Amends, you know?"

Haarlep looks at Tav as if they see them for the first time. "I am fine," they finally say. "There is nothing you can do."

Tav nods, pressing their knees together. There are slight shadows under Haarlep's eyes. The incubus has definitely taken damage and it takes all out of Tav not to grab those red shoulders and shake the incubus until truth falls from their lips. "Okay," they get out. "But if something comes up, you let me know."

"Oh, you will be the first to know," Haarlep grins. "Your mere existence agitates our dear devil. And now he is trapped in his own house with you like a moth in a lamp. If there is anything you can do to make this even more delicious, I will let you know."

"That's not what I mean," Tav murmurs. It seems unfair that they should be the only one never seeing a lick of Raphael's alleged interest in them. Out loud they add: "it definitely burns and stinks."

"Better than being trapped in Cania. The cold really gets to you after a while. Good thing you showed up when you did."

"You were there, too?" Tav asks. "How? Why?"

"I am a gift from Raphael’s father, meant to distract and spy on him." Haarlep chuckles.

"And? Do you?"

"Of course," Haarlep laughs. "Oh, you sweet little mousling. So naive. Utterly unfit for the hells."

"You were nice to me," Tav murmurs. "I hoped you are just-"

"Nice?" Haarlep asks gently. "Maybe I will - for you. Because I like you."

"And because it pisses Raphael off."

"Yes, that too, of course."

"Alright, if you are now being nice to me-"

Haarlep puts a finger over Tav's lips. "Go play in your library. Raphael will be most unhappy if you do not."

The incubus has a point. Tav nods with slumping shoulders. They scuttle backwards until they reach the edge of the bed and climb down. "I shall be reading then. And Haarps, take care."

The incubus shoos them away without an answer.

Half-way around the pool the spring returns to Tav's step. A library. A whole, big-ass library all for them. The devil better have it stacked with the good stuff. If it was all scientific papers and memoirs they'd clobber him to death with an especially heavy tome.

They close the dark wooden door behind them and breathe in the scent of paper and ink, leather and dust. There is an index close to the entrance and reading nooks scattered about. Tav spies a desk or two on each floor. They could do some work here, should they decide to. They have time. Maybe learn a language? Infernal sounds about fucking useful right now.

Days go by. Tav reads a lot. It means getting out of Raphael's feet who returns the favour, ironically, by taking the time to actually talk to Tav. Mostly about books. He takes fiendish delight in hinting at things and Tav finding the book alluded to and returning with receipts.

Haarlep resigns themself to a book club, though Tav knows they start to enjoy it, especially when they bring out the extremely graphic descriptions – sex or gore doesn't matter as long as things are excruciating and end with a final release.

When another intruder announces their arrival, Tav finds themself suddenly armoured up in their chair, war hammer clattering to the ground beside them. It is not their old armour, though it fits perfectly. It shines in hues of gold, offset with blue, their favourite combination. And it smells of hellfire.

Their eyes glow wide with glee. Helldusk armour is hard to come by and impossible to afford. Tav bounces their weapon off the breast plate. Hells, yes! They are ready to cave in some skulls if necessary. They are slightly scared at how much they hope it will be necessary.

Again Tav sits down on a soul pillar's platform. They dangle their legs and try to be unthreatening, which is a little difficult in full battle armour, covered in fiendish spikes and sigils. But their war hammer is out of reach.

After a few minutes, the portal hisses into life and a half-orc steps out. Seeing Tav, they attack immediately. Which is unfortunate, because Tav launches form the platform as if spring coiled. Two hits is all it takes before clean up.

"You don't have to do that yourself," Raphael says later. They sit in an alcove overlooking the Feast Hall, wine and books on the table between them.

"But I have so little else to do," Tav sighs. "It is a change. For a while, at least."

"Does the library not fulfil you?" The devil raises a brow and his glass. The deep red wine within is almost black.

Tav takes a sip themself. The bouquet is as heavy as the colour, heady and full of velvet that runs sown their throat smoothly, keeping embers in their stomach aglow. "It's only words. Sometimes I need something a little more – tangible."

"You keep visit Haarlep."

"Not for that." Tav shakes their head.

"You should try it. It clears the head nicely." Raphael watches them closely over the rim of his glass, like a predator waiting for its prey to make a wrong move, ready to pounce.

Tav wished he'd actually pounce for once. They'd take a fight if nothing else was an option. Shaking the images off, Tav picks up the open book before them. "You're still wrong," they pick up the conversation where it let off the day before.

"How so?" Raphael smiles in indulgent amusement. Arguing with his unruly pup takes his mind off the war. It is going well, the Crown of Karsus is an exceptional piece of equipment and though Zariel knows he's coming for her, there is nothing she can do.

The library and job have also calmed Tav down to a point where the devil can enjoy their spunky little rebellions – vain as they all are. A little more work and they will be ripe for the plucking. The time until Tav's soul is out of Mephistopheles' hands is counted and Raphael intends to be there to pick up the slack. He will have this morsel all to himself.

But all in good time. So far the poor soul has not even realised their own hands are the least satisfying option in this House. Raphael leans back, unfolding his wings a little. They would come around. And once they did, he would know.

"Transiency is an integral part of affection," Tav pushes the book at him, opened on the page of the poem they are currently arguing about.

"The narrator says himself 'the sunset is eternal/If only you move fast enough' right here." Raphael points at the line in question. "Making perfection attainable if you have the right means. It's a skill issue."

"That is meant to point out how impossible and futile the pursuit of eternity is," Tav counters. "To pursue an eternal sunset, you have to give up everything else. Not to mention that here," they tap onto lines in another stanza, he clearly states that 'love is sweet because its fare/is only but a breath from death'. By By turning the ethereal immutable, you lose its essence."

"But you still have an eternal sunset, the aim of the whole exercise."

"No, that', that's like,” Tav fishes for words. "It's like me. Here. Saying that just because I'm staying here you have my soul."

"As long as you stay, I do." Raphael leans back. "In a manner of speaking."

"But it is ethereal, because as soon as I set my foot outside, my soul is very definitely Mephistopheles'. It is part of the appeal."

"Do you really believe that having your soul in the palm of my hand forever is less appealing than having you run through my house in your quaint mortal body?" He raises a brow and gives the body in question a once-over. In an ideal hell, he naturally has both. Until he truly owns them, Raphael will make do.

They argue for some time longer, neither giving up on their position. It is this stubbornness that is endearing Tav to the devil, the refusal to give up despite obvious defeat. It doesn't harm that the wine flushes their cheek and sets a soft sheen over their sparkling eyes. Raphael keeps his hands tight around the stem of his wineglass. The other firm on his thigh, nail digging through the fabric.

"As we agree to have different opinions about the meaning of the poem, I suggest we move on," he finally says. "May I suggest ‘Red-Handed in Hell’ for your consideration?"

It is, on purpose, a poem not in any of the books before them. Tav takes the hint and gets ready to leave. They empty their glass so they can carry it and the bottle in one hand and shake their had as they pass the devil. "One day, I will get you."

Raphael doesn't reply, only the hand resting on his thing tightens. Tav wonders what they said now that was wrong again. But they don't linger. Time with the Master of the House is rare and they are not willing to risk their privileges by dawdling.

And the devil lets them pocket the wine. A small boon for being good, probably. And his cellar is exquisite. And the buzz drowns out Tav's muffled yearning and anger for a while. The headaches the next morning are a small price to pay.

Tav picks out the correct book from the index and sets up in their favourite reading nook. By stealing a pillow or blanket now and then when visiting Haarlep, they created a small nest, complete with canopy, to curl up in to read. The wine is set down in a safe distance, glass within reach.

The poem in question actually fills up the whole book. Tav sighs. Epic poems are all very nice, but having an argument with Raphael about something the length of a couple of stanzas was bad enough. This could lead to outright war. They smile to themself. Maybe, if they play their cards right, the devil will pounce after all. They start reading with a smile.

Red Handed in Hell I stand with one foot in the grave, my life is already forfeit; There is nothing left to lose, so what if it's a one way trip. Have you heard of the Rosymorn Knight, Lathander blessed in armour bright? Oh the deeds I have done, the beasts I have slain, the glory I found, but all is in vain! Mortal hearts are feeble, their bodies a ruin as they go to eternal death. I will not sink into oblivion, with eternity I will be blessed!

One of those, Tav thinks to themself. But going to the hells for a deal with a devil is a popular story, mostly a cautionary tale. Discussing this with Raphael may prove interesting.

Tav reaches for the glass when a draught catches their neck. They turn but the door is closed and their blanket fort is warm and snug. The feeling stays though, and Tav reaches back with a hand. Their skin is warm, no hint of cold air.

When the feeling drops over their shoulders and slowly makes it way between their legs, realisation hits them. Haarlep. Has to be. The caress is minuscule, it winds in and out of existence, like a finger drawing wind onto Tav's skin.

They ignore it and reach for the book again. Reading helps, though Tav cannot stop scouring their body every now and then to see if the feeling persists. The results are unclear. Sometimes they find echoes of it, sometimes they do not.

Tav downs a glass of wine and fills up again. The buzz packs their brains into a comfortable layer of cotton. They might not remember much of the book they read, but they won't remember anything else either. An acceptable solution.