#UP Lantern Parade

[djjvc]

Lantern Parade in UP Diliman: Maskipaps 2023 - Crossover

[choochooboss]

Sygna parade!

Alt version!

Ok first, I need to scream:

I LOVE THE SYGNA SUITS

THE FRILLS!! THE FASHION!! THE NOD TO OLD FASHIONED TRAIN CONDUCTOR SUITS FROM 1800’S!!THE ELECTRIC LANTERNS ARE SO CLEVER!!

POKEMAS EMBRACED THE YELLOW AND PURPLE WE LOVE TO ASSOCIATE THEM WITH AND IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY!!

THE BOOTS! THE FLOWER SLEEVES! THE BLACK COLLAR SHIRT ON EMMET! THE STRIPED TIGHTS!

*ahem*

The designs fast drew my mind into marching bands so I went for this idea first ahah! At some point I watched a ton of marching band videos, they cheered me up with the exciting and very complex perfomances and the players enthusiam was so catchy!! Also watching the 1st person POVs of i.e. the trumpet and drum players are super fun ahaha! Combined with the striking costumes all this directly reminded me of submas, and now it’s a thing!!!

[draconic-desire]

🔶 Rex Dracorum 🔶

Yandere Zhongli x Reader

At this year’s Lantern Rite, you happen to cross paths with a dragon, much to the chagrin of the one who holds you in the palm of his hand. The result has you trapped between them.

Warnings: Very brief mention of nsfw at the end, implied kidnapping, forced relationship, yandere behavior. Basically my version of what would have happened if Zhongli and Neuvillette actually met at the Rite…

Despite the contract irrevocably binding you to the Lord of Geo, its progenitor allows you a surprising number of freedoms.

Sometimes, you can pretend like he didn’t steal your life away with a simple signature. That he didn’t back you into a corner, making you decide between two evils: to be his wife and mate, or watch as everything and everyone you ever cherished suffer the wrath of the rock.

Why me?, you would plead aloud, desperate for any loophole, any escape from your contract. Why a mortal geologist with only a few mora to her name?

You’re one of the few who appreciates the rock over the gem, my precious lapis, he’d reply cryptically. Always riddles and non-answers, layered statements garnished with polished words.

If you could reverse time, you would have refused his invitation for tea that first time. Little did you know that each of those subsequent meetings, each time you spent listening to his fantastical tales shared between steaming cups, you were digging your grave a foot deeper, his hold on you constricting an inch further.

Perhaps if you had rejected him outright, he would have viewed you not as a unique mineral, but as another insignificant pebble in a sea of endless, colorless sediment. As no more than the dirt beneath his boot.

Instead, you must seek refuge from him and his stifling, suffocating presence in the times between the cracks, like now, as you take in the transformed Liyue Harbor, adorned with lights and colors brighter than any precious stone.

Hailing from Liyue, the Lantern Rite has always been a time of celebration and reflection for you and your family. Now it represents one of the only times the invisible shackles are lifted from your frame.

Although Zhongli does initially insist on walking you through the harbor, arms interlocked as he parades you around while monologuing about Liyue’s rich history, he permits you to venture off on your own and explore while he entertains his associates or work clients during the day. Although you know there are constantly eyes on you, usually a certain grumbling yaksha, this precious time almost feels like normal.

Today, you’ve decided on a stroll through Qiaoyang Village. The quiet, leisurely existence that its inhabitants have adopted fills you with a rare tranquility. Walking at a slow pace among the many street vendors, the scent of tea leaves, fresh mint and spices, permeates your nose, beckoning you forward. Your tea stocks at home are getting a bit low, you mentally remark, and having some of your own gives you an excuse to occasionally opt out of the times Zhongli wants to drag you out again.

Your mind set, you turn to find yourself a fraction of a second from running straight into a wall of boxes.

No—looking down, you spot a pair of black and gold boots, leading up to black trousers and elegant blue robes. A pair of matching gloves holds the boxes in place. There’s actually a person carrying all of those parcels.

Due to the boxes obscuring their view, they notice you too late—with startlingly quick reflexes, they manage to avoid running into you, but given their sudden halt mid-step, the boxes in their arms go toppling to the ground.

You gasp at your stupidity and immediately drop to your knees to maintain the stranger’s fallen goods. Embarrassed at your carelessness, you stumble over your words. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t see you—”

A gloved hand rests on your own scrambling fingers, calming your frantic attempt to organize the items. “No apologies necessary. I am the one at fault for not being more alert.”

Turning to face the stranger, who is now crouching beside you, the air in your lungs extinguishes as your eyes lock.

Undoubtedly, this man is one of the most handsome individuals you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Long, silver hair cascades around his sharp, defined features: almond eyes with striking lilac irises, high cheekbones and full lips, a tall, muscular frame clearly sculpted with subtle muscle. His attire—sapphire robes, adorned with lighter accents and intricate whirls of ocean blues—is clearly of expensive taste and sophistication. The jabot and dewdrop pendant around his neck suggest he’s Fontainian, perhaps associated with the court there.

You must look like a gaping fish out of water, for the man helps you to your feet with a kind smile. “I must have given you quite the startle. Are you feeling alright?”

His deep baritone rings through you, similar yet so unlike the proud voice of the Geo Archon you’ve grown accustomed to. Blinking twice, you regain your bearings and pray to the Seven—excluding one in particular, who would be very unhappy with you—that the man didn’t notice you gawking at him. “Ah, yes, I’m fine. Again, I’m very sorry for being so distracted. If any of your items are damaged, I’m more than happy to pay for replacements.”

“That is quite generous of you, but I can assure you that won’t be necessary. You see, these boxes merely contain tea, nothing more.” To prove his claim, he bends down to retrieve a box that opened when it landed, revealing simple, sealed bags of leaves.

Your shoulders sag in relief. It truly seems like no damage was done. “Well, at least let me help you wrap them up together. I know a trick that will make carrying them all much easier.”

The white-haired male nods, followed by a subtle smile. “That’s very kind of you. I accept your proposal.”

After a quick stop at another stall to buy twine, you start to work on binding the boxes together. You count more than ten in total—who needs that much tea, anyway? The amount of it is almost comical, but you can’t bring yourself to actually poke fun of the man. Not when he’s looking at you with such an endearing smile. Like he’s seeing you, not just the wife of the Lord of Geo.

Your face heats. “So,” you start, trying to focus on your knots and ties and not the stranger’s eyes boring into you, “can I ask why you’re carrying so much tea?”

“Well, I originally was transporting some goods back to Fontaine for my friends and colleagues, but I decided to partake myself. It was buy ten boxes get half off,” he replies, as calmly as if he were stating an obvious fact.

You can’t help it. A giggle escapes your lips as you quirk your head to the side. The innocence with which this man admitted to being scammed endears you greatly, and you can’t help but play along with him. “You know, that’s a pretty good deal.”

He smiles, then, a subtle thing paired with a tinge of pink along his cheeks. “I thought so, too.”

Your smile grows in tandem. Speaking to others, especially other men, without your husband hovering above the conversation is quite rare for you these days—though you have no doubt you’ll be questioned about it later once Xiao reports the encounter to him, if he hasn’t already—

A hand rests on your shoulder, the landing a bit too heavy and the grip a bit too tight. “Ah, my beautiful wife. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

The sound of Zhongli’s voice sends a jump through your bones. Archons, you knew you were being followed, but you’ve never been located and corralled this quickly. A flame of indignation, which has long since dimmed from an inferno to a mere flicker, sparks in your chest. You’re rightly upset that your time has been cut short, and even before you learned this interesting and undeniably attractive foreigner’s name.

You look up at Zhongli and open your mouth to explain the situation, that you were merely helping the other man secure his absurd amount of tea boxes, but the words die in your throat.

The Lord of Geo’s amber gaze is sharp and deadly as stone, directed at the other man. His jaw tightens and he grinds out, “Neuvillette.”

The silver-haired man’s eyes narrow as his gaze roams from the hand on your shoulder to meet Zhongli’s glower. “Rex.”

Your brow furrows in confusion as you glance back and forth between the two men who look two moments away from ripping each other to ribbons. It’s obvious they know each other, and the name Neuvillette rings a bell of recognition in your mind. But what really concerns you is the term by which Neuvillette called Zhongli. To your knowledge, no one refers to your captor as Rex Lapis except Xiao, who knows of his draconic—

Oh. Oh.

The realization slams into you with a wave of clarity as your head slowly turns toward the other man. The silver, slitted pupils, the shimmering blue horns and pointed ears, the aura of power and hydro around him…

Horrified, your mouth falls open as you truly take in this man, Neuvillette.

No, not a man. The restored leader of Fontaine, the Hydro Sovereign.

You’ve been casually conversing with not only a dragon, but also the Chief Justice of the Region of Justice. One of the original powerhouses of Teyvat, from which the Seven gained their gnoses. And, given the death of the Hydro Archon, there is currently only one in existence restored to their full power.

“Shit,” you breathe, a bit too loudly. Purple and gold irises snap to you in sync, one filled with thinly veiled concern and questioning and the other with building anger and possession.

On cue, Zhongli snakes his arms around your waist, pulling you taut against his side. You swear you feel the hint of claws digging into your skin through the fabric of your dress, the remnants of his exuvia form.

“I had hoped to avoid meeting you here,” Zhongli states, eyes roaming over the scene, the scattered tea boxes, the twine in your hand, as he pieces together the situation, “but my wife is too kind for her own good sometimes.”

Neuvillette’s eyes browse over your form, examining your tense muscles and downtrodden eyes, the arms that remain at your sides. He’s seen cases just like this time and time again in court, but even so, it doesn’t take a legal profession to ascertain that you’re not particularly fond of your husband. And given Morax’s propensity for contracts, Neuvillette’s senses immediately go on alert.

The Chief Justice clears his throat. “Not at all. I think it quite generous of her to have dedicated her time to making my travels easier.” He tries to give you a reassuring smile, but you’re too focused on Zhongli who, despite his collected demeanor, you realize is a thread away from snapping.

Just what kind of battle between dragons have you gotten yourself into the middle of?

“Is that so? Perhaps she took pity on an old man such as yourself. I hear it can be difficult to carry so much after you’ve departed from your prime.”

“Old man?” Neuvillette barks a laugh, but quickly coughs and regains his composure. “Quite ironic coming from you, Rex. Besides, I feel quite reinvigorated these days. One can only assume it’s due to the balances of power returning to their rightful due.”

Zhongli flashes a hint of his canines, the only giveaway to his building rage. “Rightful is quite a biased term. We wouldn’t want to start a war now, would we?”

Neuvillette’s eyes glint like a sword ready for battle. “And you would know quite a bit about inciting wars, wouldn’t you, Rex?”

Dear Archons, you need to stop this before these two lunge at each other’s throats.

“Zhongli,” you try to placate with a soft voice, the name and tone you know he so adores from you, “I believe that Neu—uh, the Chief Justice was on his way back to Fontaine. I only wanted to help him wrap up his purchases correctly for the journey. If we assist him together, then we can head to the Pavilion for tea after, yes?” Part of you is disgusted at yourself for having to grovel, but you can’t allow two immensely powerful draconic beings to brawl over tea in the middle of the village.

Though you have an strong inkling that the argument isn’t over tea.

Your suggestion lands. Zhongli’s muscles relax as he peers down at you, those immovable, amber eyes softening slightly as he drinks you in. The roaming hands across your back and waist, however, hint that you’ll be getting an earful in private. Though of the likely punishments he has in store for you, that’s the least of your worries.

With a single snap of his fingers, Zhongli uses the power of geo to bind Neuvillette’s parcels together. “There. Consider the issue resolved. My wife and I have matters to attend to.”

Zhongli quickly begins to pull you away, and you think you hear a growl over your shoulder from Neuvillette’s direction. “Careful, Rex. I would be most displeased to have to take one of your contracts to court. In the face of the law, they aren’t as omnipotent as you believe them to be.”

You wince, the statement hitting a bit too close to home. Zhongli, on the other hand, goes as still as stone. “That sounds awfully like a threat, Neuvillette.”

“A mere warning. It is of your own fault to read too deeply into it.”

Neuvillette then turns his attention to you, placing a single tea box into your shaking hands. You have no clue when he separated it from the rest.

Leaning in, his voice drops, low enough to be directed to you, yet you know Zhongli hears it clearly. “You are more than welcome to Fontaine. I will see to your accommodations personally, if you so choose to visit. I believe a spirit like yours would be greatly appreciated in our nation.”

All you can do is shake your head forlornly. Never in a million lifetimes will Zhongli allow it, not even before this encounter. You’ll have to settle for seeing Fontaine through your dreams alone.

Straightening with a frown but understanding the position you must be in, of the contract that binds you to the Geo Archon, Neuvillette lets the matter drop. He turns to leave, but not before throwing over his shoulder, “And her name isn’t wife, Rex. It’s…”

You swallow thickly. “(Y/n),” you finish, a mere breath.

Neuvillette gives you a final smile in return. “My offer will always stand, (Y/n). Happy Lantern Rite.”

Moments after he’s out of sight, Zhongli dips his nose into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent and rubbing his over your skin. “You stink of that other male…but I know how to amend that.”

Needless to say, you did not make it to tea that afternoon.

It wasn’t until that night when Zhongli was asleep, clawed limbs and scaly tail entangled with your naked form, that you deem it safe to open the tea box Neuvillette gifted to you.

Core pounding, you grimace as you stand, the many possessive and claiming bite marks and bruises across your skin even worse than usual. He didn’t lie about wiping any scent of the other dragon away, if the past few hours of nonstop sex were any indication.

You make your way to the kitchen trash, where Zhongli had immediately disposed of it upon arriving home. Heart pounding, you lift the lid.

A shimmering blue vision reflects in your pupils.

[pneumaticshift]

i have been plagued by thoughts of star sapphire hal and by god it kills me and would absolutely kill bruce to see him in the outfit carol wears in most runs she's in

Ooooh, this is a fun request. Thank you for the wonderful mental image.

———

For a very long moment, Bruce just stared. 

There were a great many things he had prepared himself to encounter tonight. A high-speed chase across Gothams rooftops. Explosions in the streets he’d somehow end up getting blamed for. A concussion he’d insist wasn’t a concussion while Alfred stared at him like he was the biggest disappointment to ever wear body armor. All scenarios that were perfectly reasonable for a man like him to expect. 

This, however, was new. 

Bruce prided himself on his ability to remain unshaken in the face of the bizarre. He had shared into the abyss, stood beside gods and monsters alike, and had endured all the spectacular shit the universe had thrown at him. He’d even suffered through Green Arrow’s attempts at philosophy while stranded on a mission together, and that alone had to count for something.

Now he was standing in the Watchtower, taking in the full reality of what was standing before him, and he knew with absolute certainty that his life had gone completely and irrevocably off the rails. Really, he should have seen it coming the moment he decided to devote his nights to dressing as a bat.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t noticed that Hal Jordan was attractive. He was one of the most infuriating men Bruce had ever worked with, but he was also objectively good-looking. When a man flounced around in a skintight suit with an ass like that, even Bruce was bound to notice. It was a completely manageable distraction in his day-to-day experiences with the League. One of those minor observations you’d acknowledge, catalogue and then brush aside. The sky was blue, grass was green, Hal had a great ass. 

But now he was making a very solid effort at testing the limits of Bruce’s restraint, and it had everything to do with how Hal was currently standing there in a Star Sapphire uniform.

Or, to be specific, a Green Lantern construct of the uniform. And, because apparently this was a test from the Gods to specifically screw Bruce over, the ring had chosen accuracy over modesty.

Bruce knew this because the boots were there. Knee-high, heeled, and glossy in that very specific way that suggested Hal’s ring had spent far too much time on the details. 

The rest of the outfit clung to him indecently. Obscenely. The intricate filigree was vacuum-packed to his tanned skin, high-cut at the hips, plunging at the chest, with goddamn gloves that went up and past his elbows. It should have been impossible for anything to be both skintight and flowing, but the ring sure did make a good go of it.

The tiara really brought the whole thing together nicely. Or insanely. Bruce hadn’t decided yet. 

For the longest moment, Hal didn’t even notice Bruce was there. 

He was too busy flailing his hand around to notice. The ring was glowing in fits and starts as he tried, and ultimately failed, to dismiss the uniform. The man was practically bordering on desperate as his own willpower betrayed him. 

Bruce, for his part, wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

He could enjoy the show, he supposed. Hal was stumbling gracefully in those ridiculous heels, cursing under his breath and trying to lock his knees in place for balance. He had been to alien planets, fought cosmic horrors, survived all the shit of the universe, but apparently walking in heels was where he met his match. 

Alternatively, Bruce could walk away and pretend he wasn’t going to think about the image for a very long time. Because unfortunately, he was.

He had appreciated Hal’s ass in the usual Lantern uniform many times before. (After all, he wasn’t blind.) But the Star Sapphire costume didn’t just highlight his assets, it was parading them. Utterly salacious, utterly unfair. Definitely a matter that warranted further rumination later.

Unfortunately, Bruce didn’t have time to decide which course of action to take, because right as he was mentally filing away this entire moment for later analysis, Hal’s entire scantily clad body froze.

Bruce saw the exact moment his instincts kicked in. His back snapped ramrod straight. The energy of his flailing vanished, replaced by something almost eerily still, and slowly, so painfully slowly, he turned his head.

He looked confused at first, like some part of him knew something was wrong but hadn't fully processed what yet. His brow furrowed, his mouth parted slightly, and for a brief, glorious second, Bruce could see the gears in his head struggling to turn. Then his gaze met Bruce’s. And his brain caught up.

Bruce had never seen a man visibly lose the will to live so fast.

Hal’s face went through three separate stages of emotional devastation. Shock, realisation, and existential despair. His pupils dilated. His breath hitched. His entire body seemed to shrink into itself like he was experiencing ego death in real time.

“It’s not what it looks like!” he spluttered.

Bruce tilted his head ever so slightly, letting the silence stretch. He could see Hal floundering, the sheer panic in his eyes as his mouth opened and closed, his brain scrambling for some kind of explanation that didn’t immediately collapse under scrutiny.

“Oh?” Bruce finally said. Partly to be a dick. Partly because he was truly at a loss for words. 

Hal’s hands flew up in immediate defense, then just as quickly shot back down when he remembered he was barely wearing anything. “No—shut up!” he snapped. “I swear to God, this is not what it looks like—”

“It looks like you’re wearing the Star Sapphire uniform.”

Interestingly, Hal made a noise that could’ve been a whine if it wasn’t also fifty percent death rattle. “I— No, wait—” He looked down at himself and cringed. “I can explain!”

“I’d love to hear it.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You’d love to laugh at me. There’s a difference.”

Bruce couldn’t deny it. He’d also love to do a few more things too, but that probably wasn’t entirely helpful. He let his gaze drag deliberately from the top of Hal’s ridiculous head down to the heeled boots and back up again. He tilted his head, taking in the very specific details of the construct. It really was a very well made piece. 

“God, you’re an absolute—” Hal cut himself off to drag a hand over his face. “God. Okay. Look.”

“I’m looking.”

“Not like that, you asshole. I got hit with some weird energy surge and it scrambled my ring's templates. I was thinking ‘armor’, this is what came out!" Hal gestured to himself in exasperation, the movement making the construct shimmer. Good Lord. There was a sheen. "I am working on fixing it!"

Bruce hummed again, completely unhelpful, entirely entertained.

“It’s not like I chose this, alright? This is just some kind of ring feedback. It’s not, like—"

“Subconscious?" Bruce supplied.

Hal scowled at him “No.”

“So your ring just happened to manifest this design, with those proportions, entirely by chance?”

“Yes,” Hal hissed. “Obviously.”

He crossed his arms, which did nothing to make the situation better for him. Or Bruce. It called attention to the way the construct moved with him, emphasising every flex and shift of his muscles. At this point, Bruce was fighting the deeply unprofessional urge to drag him closer and haul him over his shoulder like a caveman

He didn’t. Because he was a professional.

But goddamn.

Hal shifted. The boots squeaked when he did. “This is the worst day of my life.”

“I don’t know. I think it has potential.”

“I’m gonna fix this, you’re going to be very discreet about what you definitely didn’t see here today, and we’re both going to just go ahead and pretend this never happened. Got it?”

“Hm. Shame.”

“Don’t test me, Spooky, I am so close to committing a crime.”

Bruce tilted his head slightly. “In that outfit?”

Hal lunged for the throat.

Unfortunately for him, the boots were still heels and Hal was still incapable of walking on them. The moment he put too much weight forward, his ankles twisted, his balance wobbled, and for one wonderful Bruce watched him go down. 

He really didn’t have any intentions of catching him because he always took great pleasure in the Green Lantern eating shit, but that outfit must have triggered some kind of neolithic instinct in him, because before he could think better of it, Bruce’s hands shot out and caught him by the waist.

Hal crashed into him gracelessly, all flailing limbs and deep personal shame. He scrambled for purchase and ended up gripping the font of Bruce’s suit, and for a second, Bruce was treated to the utterly incredible experience of Hal Jordan, fully wrapped up in his own humiliation, realising that he was now draped across Batman. 

It was beautiful. 

Bruce could feel the exact moment Hal’s soul left his body. His entire frame went rigid, breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a dying wheeze, and his hands twitched against Bruce’s chest like he wanted to push himself away but had lost all motor function. Bruce, meanwhile, was noting things.

Specific things. Like how Hal’s waist was bare thanks to the cut-outs, and how it fit suspiciously well in his grip. Or how his bare thighs, lovely, tanned and toned, had pretty much tangled themselves up in Bruce’s cape. Or the way Hal’s entire expression had gone somewhere beyond horror, like he was experiencing a deeply spiritual crisis.

Hal froze.

Bruce froze. 

The tiara glinted in the light.

Bruce wasn’t sure if it was because Hal had ascended to a higher plane of mortification or because his own brain had completely short-circuited, but neither of them moved. He could feel the tension locked up in his muscle, could see the deer-in-the headlights look Hal had, and, worst of all, could feel some primitive part of his own brain straight up celebrating these turn of events. 

The part of his brain that still thought in terms like mine.

The part of his brain that had already acknowledged Hal’s body against his.

The part that was now, alarmingly, imagining many, many, many things.

Bruce forcibly shut that particularly thought process down.

But then Hal exhaled. Not just any exhale. A shaky, uncertain, what-have-I-done-to-deserve-this kind of exhale. The kind accompanied by one of those thousand-yard stare typically reserved for people who had just walked in on their own funerals.

There was barely time to dissect that before Hal was speaking.

“... So, uh. You come here often?”

Bruce decided to drop him.

[kuroshitsuji-wiki]

Trivia: Public School Arc and more!

A wiki is renownedly never done. However, after a major set-back and subsequent migrations, I have finally finished all major Season 4/Public School Arc-related edits on the wiki!!! (Unless wiki.gg suddenly bans the words "witch" and "werewolf," Season 5 edits should be done much quicker and with far less head- and heartache.)

While I was actually fixing up the final page on my list, I saw the news that the manga is coming back and hurried to report on that mid-page-revision. It was... interesting timing.

One of the things I was unable to do during the airing of Season 4 because I was just too busy with other stuff was going through all of Mr. K's and Yana's tweets, extracting all fun trivia, and adding them to the wiki. I have done that now, but also thought I could bundle them all up and share them here too!

Public School Arc trivia

Otoha wrote the opening "The Parade of Battlers" based on the entirety of Kuroshitsuji, particularly on Ciel's life, not just on the Public School Arc.

Ciel has a cookie in his mouth when he hurries to school in the first chapter/episode of the arc and not a piece of toast because Queen Elizabeth II apparently had cookies and tea first thing in the morning.

Soma's observation in Chapter 71 that Cole is "a bit like Ciel" was also meant to refer to the Chapter 129 reveal.

Mr. K said that Violet's drawing of Ciel and the Jabberwock could mean that he is hostile towards Ciel or that he wants Ciel to eradicate something sinister at school, like St. George did. (Per legend, St. George once killed a dragon that extorted tribute from villagers.)

In the fourth episode, Sebastian reads out a Latin poem (part of the Elegiae) to his class. They have a special languages expert on the anime team, and he apparently approved Daisuke Ono's Latin pronunication on his first try, to everyone's surprise.

While making the chapter, Yana had concerns that Ciel could not possibly throw the lantern far enough for it to land inside the Violet Wolf dorm. Mr. K brushed her off though, but later realised that he was wrong. They asked for Sebastian to help Ciel get the lantern to its destination in the anime.

The order in which the cricket teams enter the grand hall for the eve of the tournament party corresponds with their ranking in the previous year's tournament. (Meaning, in 1888, the ranking was: 1. Green Lion, 2. Scarlet Fox, 3. Violet Wolf, 4. Sapphire Owl.)

It was obvious, but Mr. K confirmed that yes, Vincent did not win the cricket tournament fairly, and that Francis and Tanaka know the truth behind the first Miracle of Sapphires.

Yana consulted the Japanese Cricket Association about the "Sword in the Stone" technique. They were surprised by her idea, but gave her the green light for it as it did not violate any rules then.

Mr. K said it is a "positive technique that proves that there is a way to fight even if you're not a star player = someone who cannot pull the sword out."

Yana actually said that what she did to Joanne Harcourt is terrible.

Tanaka and Francis' dance during the afterparty was Yana's personal highlight.

Because Eton College has a "Fourth of June" celebration (though it does not entail a cricket tournament), the tournament takes place on June 4th too. Eton College's festivities do include a boat parade though; it was the basis for Weston College's.

The director Kenjiro Okada added Maurice's little appearance in the penultimate episode.

They might not have been able to make the Public School Arc if they had not had the help of Rico Murakami, the historical advisor.

The covers for chapters 68, 71, 72, 73, and 83 were drawn in the style of Alfons Mucha, obviously.

Character trivia

Francis Midford is the only human character Sebastian is afraid of.

Agni is the strongest human character in the series.

Because Edward is the heir of a marquess, he could have been in Scarlet Fox too.

Mr. K noted that Edward's ability of "single-minded respect" might make him powerful in battle one day.

According to Mr. K, Soma just cannot read the air; still, he gets along with everyone (except Sebastian). He is also one of the few "purely good" characters in the series and always believes in the goodness of people.

Bluewer knows the Weston College rules by heart.

Clayton raises his hands extra high when Sebastian carries Ciel away after they won the tournament because that is how one claps in the Imperial Theatre. Mr. K noted that this might mean that he is actually a nice person.

Maaya Sakamoto was a bit worried for Ciel to have to go to school as he's such a loner and not good with people. He ended up positively surprising her though with how well he handled the situation.

The question of "can Ciel even do this?" actually came up during the first Public School Arc manga meeting. Yana and the others decided that Ciel gained enough experience during the Circus Arc and would be fine. Yana also noted that while Ciel "might not have grown much in terms of appearance or ability" since the first chapter, he is nonetheless "growing steadily and brazenly on the inside."

It was difficult finding a replacement for Tanaka's late voice actor Shunji Fujimura. For that reason, the team decided to bring back Mugihito who voiced Tanaka in the first Drama CD.

Lau talks like a Japanese mafia boss despite his cluelessness.

Yana remarked that Lau and the Viscount of Druitt have the odd tendency to always be there for important points in the story.

Because the Midfords are a family of swordfighters, Yana asked Aniplex to make them look strong.

Other trivia

New staff members could not believe that Kuroshitsuji has a cast full of prominent voice actors. For example, they were surprised that Finnian is voiced by Yuki Kaji.

The little "in-between/breather" chapters are difficult to animate because they often feature a different setting, different characters, different clothes, etc. They are just as demanding to make as a new season.

For basically the same reasons, "breather" chapters are amongst the most difficult/tedious chapters to make amongst the manga staff too. E.g. the boat parade and the afterparty were hard to make because so many characters appeared, many of which even needed new clothes for the occasion.

The Luxury Liner Arc was the most difficult arc to make, according to Yana's assistants: Back then, everything was still done manually, and they could not copy-paste the Bizarre Dolls, for example. The tilting ship also made things extra hard, and Yana had to make a little model out of a milk box as a visualisation help.

Death Scythes (especially Grelle's and Undertaker's) make Yana's assistants despair. Yana later asked a professional to make 3D models of them so that drawing them would be easier.

Mr. K (and another K-san from the Media Division) always supervise the voice recordings for episodes.

The design of the saucer on the cover of the Monthly GFantasy May 2024 issue is a nod to the Public School Arc.

Her research for the Public School Arc helped Yana make Twisted Wonderland.

The more sinful a person is, the stronger are their "future episodes".

I might have forgotten something, but that should be (almost?) all of them^^'

Hope we get a lot of information from Yana and Mr. K during Season 5 too!

[thatdammchickennugget]

Happy Birthday

pairing - remus lupin x fem!reader

a/n - my last fic for hogmarch this year! using the forbidden forest prompt. this is also my little present to myself, so yeah, pretty self indulgent, this one hehe

warnings - fluff

wordcount - 985

The day passes in a dull, aching disappointment.

Not that you expect a parade, but maybe at least something. A squeeze of the hand, a whispered Happy Birthday between bites of toast, a smuggled chocolate bar slipped into your pocket during class. But the sun sets, and the halls thin, and curfew looms. And nothing.

You drag your feet toward your dorm, feeling absurdly childish for the sting behind your ribs. People forget things. Even the people who love you. It doesn’t mean they care about you less.

“You’re not going to bed, are you?”

Remus steps up to you before you’re able to disappear in the common room, arms crossed over his chest, casual and with a lazy smile.

You hesitate, fingers curling around the strap of your bag. “It’s nearly curfew.”

“I know,” he says. “Come on.”

You blink at him. “What?”

He doesn’t answer, just tugs at the sleeve of your jumper and starts walking. You don’t think about it—when Remus Lupin tells you to follow, you follow.

The castle corridors are eerily silent, save for the soft tread of your shoes against stone. He’s warm beside you, even at a distance, even as he keeps glancing at you like he’s making sure you’re still there. The staircases shift in your favor once. The tapestries ruffle but let you through.

“This is very unlike you,” you whisper.

He huffs a quiet laugh. “Breaking the rules?”

“Yeah. At least without Sirius, James and Peter involved.”

“Well.” He nudges you. “I make exceptions.”

The night air bites at your cheeks as you step outside. He leads you across the lawn, past the greenhouses, into the dark expanse of the Forbidden Forest.

“Remus,” you start warily.

“Trust me?”

You do. You always do.

The trees thin, revealing a clearing bathed in soft golden light. And your breath catches.

Floating lanterns bob gently in the air, casting rippling patterns against the grass. Strings of fairy lights twine around low branches, flickering in harmony with the glow of tiny winged creatures, their iridescent bodies humming with quiet magic. There’s a blanket spread in the center, a small cake balanced precariously atop a book, and—

“Oh.”

Remus exhales like he’s been holding his breath. “Happy Birthday.”

You turn to him, overwhelmed. “You remembered.”

He swallows, gaze flickering to the lanterns. “Course I did.”

A lump rises in your throat. “I thought—” You break off, shaking your head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” He steps closer, hesitant, like he’s waiting for you to pull away. “I know today was— I should’ve said something earlier. But I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“It certainly was.”

Your voice is small, but he catches it, the corners of his mouth twitching as he ducks his head.

You stare at him in the soft glow, the golden light pooling in the hollow of his throat, the curve of his nose, the gentle, unguarded look in his eyes. His hands twitch like he wants to touch you, but he doesn’t. Not yet.

“I—” you start again, but then there’s a loud rustling from the trees and—

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

You jolt as Sirius, James, and Peter tumble into the clearing, grinning wildly. James swings an arm around your shoulder, Sirius shoves a wrapped present into your arms, Peter brandishes a bottle of something suspicious.

“Did we ruin the moment?” Sirius asks, unrepentant.

Remus sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

You laugh, breathless, heart impossibly full. “No,” you say. “You made it better.”

James summons a stack of more fluffy blankets, Sirius dramatically flops down wrapped into one, and Peter pulls out a tray of cupcakes that look slightly lopsided but smell incredible. The air is filled with warmth, with magic, with the kind of chaotic joy only your friends can make you feel. They hand you gifts—small things, trinkets really, but thoughtful in a way that makes your throat tighten.

“Here, this is for you,” Sirius says, shoving a hastily wrapped package into your lap. You pull off the twine and unfold the soft fabric, revealing a scarf in your house colors. It’s a bit uneven, the stitches imperfect, but it’s warm and soft. You run your fingers over it, touched beyond words.

“You knitted this?” you ask, grinning.

“Absolutely not,” Sirius says, expression serious, but his eyes give his lie away. “I stole it.”

James hands you a small enchanted photograph of the group, taken just a few weeks ago in Hogsmeade. It’s candid—you’re laughing at something, eyes bright, Remus is beside you, watching with a soft expression, and Sirius and James are shoving each other in the background while Peter looks on in exasperation. The edges are slightly worn, as if James has been carrying it around for a while before deciding to give it to you.

“It’s not much,” James says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s perfect,” you assure him, tucking it carefully into your pocket.

Peter hands you a box of Honeydukes sweets, a mix of your favorites. “For when you need a little extra sugar rush,” he says.

As the night deepens, you sit beside Remus on the blanket, knees brushing, sharing a slice of cake that’s slightly squashed but delicious. He watches you with quiet fondness, his fingers twitching near yours. The others are engaged in a heated debate about the best Quidditch teams, voices rising and falling like a familiar lullaby.

“You know,” Remus murmurs, so only you can hear, “I wanted to do something just us. But they refused to stay out of it.”

You glance at him, heartbeat stuttering. “Yeah?”

He nods, gaze flickering to your lips before he looks away, like he wasn’t meant to be caught. “Maybe we could. Tomorrow. If you want.”

The warmth in your chest spreads, unfurling like petals in the sunlight. You nudge his knee with yours, smiling. “I’d like that.”

Masterlist

Requesting Guidelines

[coolsosha]

FAN EVENT START!°.•

    One of the most important things that makes a person is their dreams and wishes, don't you think so? Would you wish for your dream to come true one day? Then you might want to join the Festival of floating hopes! Or as some people call it.. the Festival of sunken dreams...~

Sunken dreams is a Deep sea hometown fanevent! It is something i wanted to do for quite some time, and it took a lot of work. Make sure to tag someone who would enjoy an event like this!~

INFO.°•

NO DEADLINE!

-You are free to do it at any time!

BONUS MATERIALS

-SSR Soshark sunken dreams attire card ✓

-Soshark, Deuce, Jamil and Silver sunken dream attires ✓

-A FULL GUIDE ON THE OUTFIT DESIGNING + CARD BASES + BACKGROUND(!!!)✓

-A LIST OF PARTICIPATING CHARACTERS(!!!)✓

Thats not all!

Bonus materials that are COMING SOON...

-Event story with Soshark spotlight ...

-SSR GROOOOVY Soshark sunken dreams attire...

-SR Silver sunken dreams attire card ...

-SR Jamil sunken dreams attire card ...

-R Deuce sunken dreams attire card ...

EVENT LORE PREVIEW BELOW!.°•

The Festival or floating hopes is a yearly tradition in a seaside town located right next to Coral sea, or to be more specific, the Deep sea. Deep sea is a South area of Coral sea, famous for it's depths, as you might've guessed. Every year at the last sunday of june the festival takes place at the beach. (Yes, the same beach from Soshark's origin story, but on a different side of that beach).

    Every year people of the town dress up in dark bioluminescent outfits and go to the beach, they put tables of snacks, jellyfish shaped lanterns, music and other activities, but most importantly.. they bring something close to them. Something that symbolises their wish, their deepest desire. Wish to become a good violin player? Maybe try bringing your old violin, it broke because of how much you practiced with it? Want a cure for your loved one's sickness? Maybe an empty pill bottle? Anything that carries your wish within it.

When the sun falls behind the horizon, the festival starts, or, to be more specific, the important part of it starts. Merfolk arise from the depths to the surface, glowing and almost fairy-like. Humans go up to them. They hand them their items and whisper their wishes. Each person must pick someone to hand their dream to, maybe, someone big and strong can protect your desire? Or someone innocent and small to cherish it? Your choice.

    Merfolk take the items and seal them within bioluminescent bubbles. So fragile, yet so beautiful, they glow in the shadows of the night, holding your deepest desire. They parade, holding bubbles full of wishes, truly a beautiful sight. When the parade is done and everyone's dreams been given, merfolk put the bubbles in the water, they float on the surface as they swim away to the horizon..

    People believe that a ritual like this will make their dreams come true. They believe that Sea witch will hear their wish and take their items as a payment for their dream. Merfolks, especially sharks, are often seen as beasts or deep sea monsters, yet in this occasion, it is believed that having your dream be protected by one of them is a good sign.

    Yet this is not all that Festival of floating hopes is known for. Alongside Merfolk this event is also called The Festival Of Sunken Dreams..

SUNKEN DREAMS EVENT STARTS NOW! .°•

if you wish to be tagged in all updates and additions to the event(or even to Soshark lore?) you are free to ask for it in comments, reposts or asks!

I would really appreciate reposts and tags, since i worked really hard to make this event come true and made multiple additions to make the event better. Maybe you can find someone who would enjoy participating? :3

IF YOU PARTICIPATE, MAKE SURE TO TAG ME(@coolsosha), AND/OR USE #Festival of sunken dreams

Bai baaai~ See you soon, a hopeful dreamer!.°•

[zyonsay]

Js came back from a mental health break to see ZYON REQS OPEN !!! How about a Loscar x male reader smut? I don't know if you write for Logan Sargeant since you don't have him in your list so— 😭 if not you can change the driver to Lando I don't mind, but the three of them are drunk and playing drunk truth or dare and things take a turn - 🔥

I dare you LN4&OP81

Fem aligned people may read but not f3tishize my work!!

Summary: A game of truth or dare between you, Lando and Oscar takes a turn...

Reader: Male

Warnings: Suggestive, NSFW, Dude-bro language, Horsegirl-ified reader because i said so

Now playing: 'Runway Walk' by Demrick

AN: Hey there! i FINALLY finished this and icl, not my best work. BUT i hope y'all can still enjoy this!

Loud chants echoed through the dimly lit bar. Your team members had picked you up and were now parading you around. The bar only had limited access to your equipe of elite show riders, a few close associates along with other familiar faces. Apparently, it was your lucky day, because your best friend finally had time to celebrate one of your many wins with you. Lando and yourself had been friends since diaper times and stuck together ever since. Even though you both were inseparable, your careers were demanding and didn’t offer you much time to hang out. He was now a rising F1 star, and you fought your way into prestigious show arenas, your schedules were now filled with training, media appointments and various other events. But, whenever you did find time to catch up, you always had a good time together. Not so recently he had introduced you to his teammate, and “friend”, Oscar. He’s a sweet guy, his smile felt like a little piece of sunshine and the swoop in his hair reminded you of gentle waves in the ocean. The chemistry between Lando and Oscar was kind of obvious, but you didn’t want to assume anything. That was until Lando had drunkenly admitted to his situationship.

The loud music boomed trough the doors as you stumbled out into the cold night air. Coordinating your wobbly legs while giggling uncontrollably was difficult. Very difficult. Lando had noticed your struggles and wrapped an arm around your waist while dragging you to the nearest bench. Maybe if you were sat, you wouldn’t fall on your face. A soft breeze blew trough the city and a slight shiver ran down your spine. It wasn’t actually cold, just refreshing enough. Lando had also sat down by now and leaned his head back while closing his eyes. Your gaze flickered to him, the street lanterns painted the contours of his face in orange hues. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the poetic mood you’ve found yourself in, but now felt like the right time to tell him how you feel. You’ve always loved him, but you were also scared of telling him, or anyone for that matter. Besides. You two had very busy lives and barely got to see each other, so how would a relationship work out? But now wasn’t the time to worry about that. Not when he was looking so beautiful. How do you say this? How do you confess your feelings without sounding like an absolute idiot. Gathering all your courage, your lips parted, and the first word was ready to leave them. “Y/n. I gotta tell you something.”, his eyes were still closed, and his head was still leant back. A frustrated sigh fell from his figure, and he shifted his seat. Now he was looking at you, God, those beautiful eyes. They were so sincere and looked like a fresh margarita at the beach. “I- “, his gaze avoided your own for a second before his eyes darted up to yours again. “I think I might be into men. Like in a gay way.” That was the most bro-dude way to say that, but it sure suits him. A small smile crept onto your face. “Thanks for trusting me.”, you grabbed his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Coming out to anyone is difficult, especially when you can’t predict how they’ll react. This was worth a lot to you.

“…and I sort of have a thing going right now,” Shit. SHIT. What? If it is some random dude, you swore to yourself that- “with Oscar.” Your brain must’ve short circuited right then and there. Your expression must’ve given your shock away, because Lando looked really worried all of a sudden. “…you okay mate?”, his eyebrows knit together in confusion. Quickly, you need to react, otherwise he’ll think you’re a weirdo. “Yeah, totally.”, you gulped, “I just didn’t expect you to start something with your teammate.” Absently, he scratched his arm. “Yeah, i gotta be careful. You know, with PR and stuff.”

Obviously, Oscar is also attending the afterparty. As much as you wanted to dislike him for getting together with your crush, he was so nice that you’d feel like an asshole. As sour as the taste in your mouth was, you were happy for them. They seem to fit together really well, and you couldn’t be mad because your best friend’s relationship is working out, that’s just rude. Nevertheless, the little touches they shared filled you with jealousy. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder. “Just so you know, I have your favorite white with me. In case you wanna celebrate some more later.”, you could basically hear the smug smile in Lando’s voice. Tempting. Maybe you weren’t feeling so sour after all.

Without much care, you left your shoes somewhere in the hallway, while leading Oscar and Lando towards the balcony. Usually when you were travelling around for competitons, you’d rent a hotel room, since there wasn’t really any point in staying longer than you had to. But for the finale of your season, you wanted to enjoy the beautiful city, before departing again. While your Horse was being flown back to your home country, you decided to rent a holiday home. It was relatively close to the coast, so you’d hear the lively waves when opening the windows. Your thoughts were cut short by the sound of shuffling cards. More specifically, a deck of UNO cards. Wait what. Why was he shuffling an UNO deck? Where did he even get that from?

“Nah dude, put that back down.” Lando slurred while lazily swatting Oscars hands away. Disgruntled, but indifferent enough, Oscar put the deck of cards back down. “Wild idea: lets revert back to seventh grade and play truth or dare.”, Lando’s face lit up at that. In his mind, he was already going trough all the evil dares he could make you guys do. “We’re literal adults.”, Oscar deadpanned. For a moment, it looked like Lando was thinking about something. “Well, let’s make things more interesting. Every time you pick truth or won’t do the dare, you take off one clothing piece.” He held up one finger, so it was clear that you wouldn’t be stripping completely naked in seconds. That’s an awfully odd request, but with the taste of wine still lingering on your tongue, you could care less. And so, it begun.

“Y/n, truth or dare?”, his intentions were pretty clear, but you wanted to toy with him for a little. “Dare.”, you took another sip of the fourth or fifth Bottle of white wine, that you three have been passing around like biscuits. “An easy one to start with, do a handstand.” Hah, that was a piece of cake. Scrambling off the rattan lounge, you readied yourself to do a handstand against the wall. A free-standing one might be a bit too confident in your current state. With a swift motion you hurled your legs into the air and banged them against the wall, while you did your best to not flop onto the floor. Considering how dizzy you were, you did a good job. “Impressive!”, Oscar giggled. There was nothing to laugh about, the bastard was up next. “Truth or Dare, Os?”, he was quick to answer. “Dare.” Bingo. As rarely as you and Lando got to catch up, he does talk about Oscar often. This man doesn’t even know hoe much you know about him. “I dare you to whistle.”, his smile faded. He was ninety percent sure you were aware of the elephant in the room. He sighed before pulling his shirt off. “I can’t whistle.”

Admittedly, this was much more fun than you initially thought it’d be. It must’ve already been something past midnight, but you guys were chatting away on the balcony. By now, your and Oscar’s shirts and socks had gone, while Lando was barely left in his briefs. “Truth or Dare?”, Lando intently looked at you. “Dare.” Now you’ve gotten yourself stuck in his trap. “I dare you to kiss me.”, now that made you stop in your tracks. “Dude, I’m not a homewrecker.” Oscar’s hickory eyes had a playful glint in them. “I’ll allow it.”, he leant against the backing of the lounge, readjusting his seat. Your heart pounded loudly in your chest. This is what you wanted for so long, but this feels taboo. Nevertheless, you leant forward and slid a hand behind your friend’s neck. Pulling him closer your lips met his and a contempt sigh left Lando. You felt Oscars eyes on you, they were burning holes into your skull. After all you were kissing his fling right now. The world seemed as if it was melting apart into a big mess of colors, but that all stopped when Lando gently pulled away. With slightly shaky hands, you settled back into a comfortable sitting position. “Oscar.”, he hummed, “Truth or dare?” He exaggeratedly tapped his finger against his chin. “Truth.” He now looked directly into your eyes. “Why didn’t you have a problem with me kissing Lando.”, his eyes widened at your question. For a moment he seemed to think for a good answer, but instead of speaking up, he glanced over at Lando. The brit loudly gulped, it sounded almost comical, before speaking up. “So, the thing is…” His, whatever Oscar was to him, tapped him on the knee, encouraging Lando to speak up. “I like you. Like in a gay way.” Dumbfounded, you shifted your gaze from Oscar to Lando and then back again at the pale Aussie. “And you’re ok with that?!”, you pointed your finger towards Oscar. “You see, we actually wanted you to... join our relationship.” His tone was unsure, and he kept searching Lando’s gaze.

Now you were officially flabbergasted. This must be a fever dream, right? There was no way this was real right now.

Obviously, it was, because now you were sat here with Lando kissing down your neck and Oscar pressed up behind you, squeezing your thighs, hips and waist. You leant your head backwards against Oscar’s shoulder, whining quietly. You whispered sharply, “I dare you to take those damn pants off.”, while fiddling with the buckle of his belt. Oscar chuckled lightly before slipping his pants off and propping himself up behind you again. Carefully, you reached behind you and felt his hard member in your hand. With gentle motions, you began palming him as best as possible. Lando smiled against your neck, his eyes darting up to meet Oscar’s gaze. His tanned hand tugged on your underwear before swiftly slipping underneath it. You gasped at the tight feeling of his hand around your dick. Slowly but surely, he started pumping up and down, meanwhile he continued his artwork of hickeys along your neck and chest bone. Not wanting to neglect his hard cock, you wrapped your hand around it and pressed your thumb over the tip. He exhaled sharply. Oscar leaned in close to your ear. “You wanna suck them?” Stuck in an endless loop of pleasure and torture, you could only whine as a pathetic attempt at an answer.

[southern-gothic-comic]

Page 83

Next 💜 Back 🖤 First

Patreon 💜 Art Prints 🖤Books!

(Author's Notes)

Panel 1: Sometime later. Laudna sits outside on a swing she has made, looking forlorn and still a little sulky, letting her rat climb around in her hair. Evening is deepening into dusk around her.

Panel 2: She raises her head at the approach of a parade of lights appearing between the trees like will-o-the-wisps.

Panel 3: Quickly it becomes apparent that they aren’t fairies but lanterns and torches being held by the grim figures of an adventuring party emerging from the gloom. Sighting her, the leader, a man in armor, points in her direction and shouts.

Panel 4: (narrow, between wide black space where the violence has been elided) She tries to run, but her pursuers catch up with her.

Laudna: Come back. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Come back. Help me!

But Delilah does not.

Panel 5: Later. It’s raining. She is lying in the woods where she was struck down by the “heroes,” at the feet of an ancient statue of a robed figure broken and weathered beyond recognizability and partly sunken into the earth. A few crossbow bolts protrude from her chest and she is bleeding darkly from the slashes of blades. Her rat nuzzles at her in distress.

Panel 6: She stirs feebly, whimpering, as Delilah’s magic begins to crawl over her wounds, stitching them.

Delilah: Lie still, child. Let me mend you.

Laudna: ‘m sorry

Delilah: Shh. I know you are.

Panel 7: She climbs into the statue’s lap and buries her face in its skirts. The shadows of the surrounding forest surround her in an embrace.

Laudna: Please don’t go away again. I don’t want to be alone.

Delilah: I’m here. I won’t ever leave you.

Laudna: (quietly) I love you.

Delilah: And I you, darling.

[punkedsolar]

Here is a video of my singing lyrebird!

The culmination of six or so weeks of crazy amounts of work. In my city, we have a yearly lantern parade on the Winter Solstice to light the night up. Everyone makes lanterns and we close the whole centre of the area to walk the street.

Lantern Making Process

Lantern making starts with a series of sketches. These are usually made life size so I know roughly how much space I will be taking up. I have to carry the lantern to the centre of town, so if it's too big to get through the narrow bush tracks where I live, I'll have trouble.

Once the size is known, I can pin out the rattan shapes. I boil the rattan first, and then I bend it into shape. If I can, I tape it in place, but wet rattan won't tape. So I bend it and dry it in shape, then I tape it. This process can take days and days.

The rattan shape is held in place by PVA glue and rice paper. I mix the glue 50/50 with water, apply rice paper, and then wait for it to dry in place. Once there is a single dry layer I can then add more. 2-3 layers of glued paper gradually form a lacquered layer that can support weight.

After this it's the time to start adding supports and areas where lights can be held. This time around I've got some USB controlled soundbars, and they have to be attached.

For small, simple lights, stick on Velcro dots work well.

For heavier, more detailed ones, I bind them into the lantern under more rice paper and glue. I need the solidity of the lacquered paper to avoid them ripping through.

For a few areas this year, I designed and printed elements on my partner's Bambu Lab printer. The beak is actually a 3D scan of a real lyrebird beak that was in a museum. The feet I designed myself.

At every point where I do something that could damage the wiring, I perform another wiring test. The hot glue could possibly melt the wiring - it definitely removed my fingerprints.

The bird, once finished, gets decoration as well - lots of printed feathers that I have to individually glue in place. The wings are velcro attached and also a mixture of rice paper and normal paper.

The head has a bike brake cable inside which goes down to a rod that holds it up. When I squeeze the brake, the mouth opens and closes.

The claws that wrap over a thick vest covered in hot glued plants - the entire bird stands on it's own feet, wired to the base.

The vest was then covered in decoration to make it look like the bird is standing on a forest floor.

After this process, I put a Bluetooth speaker into the lantern's body and used my phone to control both the lights and the music. With the jaw able to open and close, the bird could actually sing.

And all of this resulted in a lantern that just stood on my shoulders in the parade and could animatedly interact with others.

And here she is!

Curious about other lanterns and the rest of the parade? Here are some of the other magnificent creations! Thanks to our wonderful parade photographers.

[eepwtf]

UPCOMING BOTS / BOT DUMP!!

i’m a sucker for the fall season, every and any season CANNOT top the fall season at all. which is why i’m making (some) horror/halloween inspired bots—even if there’s like 70 something days till halloween. along with a few random bots i've done and going to do.

tvdu ☆彡

Kai Parker: 𓏲ּ ghostface au! 𓂃

after you caught his eyes, he had an inexplicable curiosity over you. every step you took, every conversation you had with other people, he was there, watching you from afar. of course, that didn’t sedate his curiosity over you. so, when someone in your orbit ventured a little too close, he took matters into his own hands—quite literally. he gutted the perceived threat, the world around him narrowing into a singular focus: you. to him, it wasn’t just a crime; it was an artistic expression, a violent confession of his feelings woven into a tapestry of blood and chaos. He crafted his work with meticulous care, each stroke of the blade a declaration of his affection. yet, in the heat of his actions, a twist of fate caught him off guard—there you were, witnessing it all. Elena Gilbert: 𓏲ּ halloween costumes 𓂃

caroline's halloween party loomed on the horizon, a spectral deadline that demanded perfection. every cobweb, jack-o'-lantern, and plastic skeleton needed to be meticulously placed. the entire event had to be flawless, a masterpiece of festive horror. you, however, felt a different kind of dread. social gatherings weren't your forte, and the thought of navigating a sea of costumed strangers made your stomach churn. but elena, with her infectious enthusiasm, had other plans. she'd already amassed an army of costumes for you to try on, each one more outrageous than the last. as she twirled before you in a dizzying parade of personas—from sultry vampire to whimsical fairy—her eyes sparkled with anticipation, silently demanding your opinion on each piece of clothing she’d modeled on herself. Elena Gilbert: 𓏲ּ cookies and kisses 𓂃

elena passion for baking was palpable, even if she wasn't a seasoned expert. what truly brought her joy was your presence in the kitchen, your willingness to join her culinary adventures. she cherished those moments when you'd sample her latest creations, those little baking treats she'd present with such enthusiasm. as you took that first bite, elena's eyes would light up, watching intently for your reaction. the moment you'd let out a contented groan of approval, a proud smile would bloom across her face, warming her from within. in those sweet instances, she felt a sense of accomplishment that went beyond the mere act of baking—it was about the connection, the shared experience, and the simple pleasure of making someone she cared for happy through her heartfelt efforts. Bonnie Bennett: 𓏲ּ season of the witch ( witch!user ) 𓂃

bonnie had gone to your place for witchcraft lessons, bringing some herbs you had specifically asked for, and of course, she brought the most important thing she needed for the lessons. herself. she knew that the lessons you were teaching her were more advanced, and that she needed to pay attention but as you began to explain the complex theories and gestures, she found her concentration wavering. your shoulder pressed against hers as you demonstrated a particularly intricate hand movement, the warmth of your body so close to hers, the subtle scent of herbs that clung to your skin, the intensity in your eyes as you spoke of each spell - it all combined to make her head spin.

Damon Salvatore: 𓏲ּ lost in your iris 𓂃

damon tried to fight his feelings for you, but you were his weakness. he sees you completely, and he’d do anything to have you near him. every glance you exchanged pulled him deeper into a world only you inhabited, where his heart raced and his resolve faltered. he yearned to lose himself in those captivating eyes, longing to feel the gentle spark of your existence beside him. Klaus Mikaelson: 𓏲ּ so confusing 𓂃

klaus wrestled with uncertainty, his feelings for you a tangled web of emotions. some days, he was convinced you harbored a deep-seated dislike for him, your every glance and gesture seeming to confirm his fears. other times, he caught himself nurturing a grudging resentment towards you, though he couldn't quite pinpoint its origin. despite all of that, he persistently suggested grabbing drinks. it had become his go-to solution, a way to bridge the gap between you two–or perhaps to blur the lines of your complicated relationship. so, inevitably, you'd find yourselves perched on barstools in some dimly lit establishment, nursing your drinks, surrounded by the hum of stranger's conversations. the atmosphere was always thick with unspoken words and lingering glances. sometimes, you'd manage to fall into an easy rhythm, laughing at shared jokes and swapping stories about your day. in these moments, the confusion would recede, and a genuine connection seemed possible. but more often than not, an awkward tension would creep in. silences stretched too long, laughter felt forced, and both of you would become hyper-aware of every word and gesture. ( this is actually my fav rn!! )

Klaus Mikaelson: 𓏲ּ his muse 𓂃

klaus always found himself getting lost in the dance of his hands across the canvas, transforming the lifeless white expanse into a vibrant masterpiece. the studio was his sanctuary, a world inhabited only by his artistic vision and you—his ethereal muse. in his eyes, you were the embodiment of perfection, and his brush strokes captured your essence without flaw. the art, a mirror of his perception, revealed no imperfections, for in his mind, you were utterly flawless.

spn ⟢

Dean Winchester: ๑ ︵ angels and halloween ( angel!user ) ᵎᵎ

you were an angel, which meant that you had no idea about humans, especially in their tradition of halloween. so when dean catches you staring at the halloween decor, and costumes in a store, he goes out of his way to make this a memorable halloween for the angel. he planned an elaborate evening, starting with pumpkin carving. your first attempt at pumpkin carving was... unique. the face you created had a lopsided grin and mismatched eyes, one comically larger than the other. next came costume selection, where the two of you went to the nearest halloween, a warehouse-sized space filled with endless racks of costumes and accessories. you browsed through countless options: superheroes, movie characters, mythical creatures. dean suggested a sexy devil costume with a mischievous grin, but you firmly declined, not finding the humor in it. ( i think this is my top 2 fav! )

Dean Winchester: ๑ ︵ insatiable ( vamp!user ) ᵎᵎ

dean’s fangs throbbed with an insatiable hunger, a primal urge he struggled to contain. every pulse of blood rushing through nearby veins called to him like a siren's song. the warmth radiating from human bodies sent shockwaves of desire coursing through his undead form. but resistance only seemed to intensify the craving. his heightened senses picked up on every nuance—the slight sheen of sweat on exposed skin, the rhythmic thump of hearts, the tantalizing scent of life itself. through it all, you observed him drinking in his struggle like a fine wine, with a knowing smirk playing at the corners of your mouth. your eyes sparkled with amusement, fully aware of the internal battle raging inside dean. you knew exactly what he craved—what he needed. and yet here you stood, taunting him, daring him to give in to his darkest impulses.

Dean Winchester: ๑ ︵ dark magic ( witch!user ) ᵎᵎ

dean wasn’t that awfully nice when it came down to witches or anything surrounding the supernatural. everything he stood suddenly disappeared when it came to you, logic fled and instinct reigned. your very existence seemed to weave an enchantment around him, bending his iron will as easily as a whisper bends a candle flame. in your orbit, he became a different man—softer, more open, as if you alone held the key to unlocking a hidden part of his soul. but your influence was not without cost. your magic, steeped in shadow, left a trail of upheaval in their wake. chaos bloomed wherever you tread, a dark garden of your own making. ( not sure i might stick with this plot, but am so hhhng im lazy )

Dean Winchester: ๑ ︵ might say somethin stupid ᵎᵎ

after a long, exhausting hunt, dean heads to a nearby bar to unwind. weighed down by the night's events, he orders a drink and surveys the room. his attention is quickly drawn to a stunning individual sitting a few stools away. intrigued, dean moves closer, captivated by their effortless beauty and presence. deciding to engage, he buys them a drink and leans in, confidently flirting with a playful question about their relationship status, hoping to shift the mood and distract himself from the tension of the hunt.

Sam Winchester: ๑ ︵ bloody date ᵎᵎ

it was catastrophic. sam knew, deep in his bones, what you truly were. he might have chastised himself for harboring feelings for you, convinced he was teetering on the edge of insanity as his heart clenched painfully within his chest at the mere thought of your presence. but fuck, you were worth it right? this date, however, shattered any remaining illusions. it was meant to be an intimate affair—small, meaningful, a cherished memory in the making. well, you sure as hell made it memorable for him to ever forget it. there you stood, fangs sunk deep into your helpless victim, crimson rivulets painting the edges of your mouth like some macabre artwork.

slashers ☆彡

Brahms Heelshire: ୭ ∿ i'll be good ∿

you had reluctantly accepted the nanny position, despite the suspiciously high salary. the isolated manor and eccentric heelshire family raised red flags, but desperation silenced your misgivings. nothing, however, could have prepared you for the absurdity of your charge – a porcelain doll named brahms. initially, you played along with the charade, following the strict rules set by the heelshires. but as days turned to weeks, an unsettling truth emerged. the real brahms was no doll, but a grown man, which in hindsight would be something to be freaked out about but for you it was fine, however the fact that the brahms could be a little too clingy was the problem. simple errands became ordeals. attempts to leave the property triggered tantrums, brahms clinging to you not wanting you to leave him.

Patrick Bateman: ୭ ∿ touch starved ∿

patrick never considered himself a touch-starved person. in fact, he often thrived in the artificial perfection of his meticulously curated life. he relished the combination of power suits and high-stakes finance, his existence orchestrated with a calculated precision that left no room for vulnerability. but from the moment you entered his life, everything changed. he found himself drawn to you like a moth to a flame, craving your touch in a way that defied his logical mind. in the upscale restaurants you frequented—places with starched tablecloths, crystal stemware, and prices that made most people wince—patrick's behavior shifted noticeably. while he once sat rigidly across from his dining companions, maintaining a respectable distance, with you he couldn't bear even that small separation. he'd guide you to the plush booth seating, sliding in close enough that your thighs touched beneath the table. as you perused the menu, his arm would find its way around your shoulders, fingers absently tracing patterns on your skin. during the meal, he'd lean in unnecessarily close to murmur observations about the food or other patrons, his breath warm against your ear. as the evenings wore on, patrick found increasingly creative ways to maintain contact. he'd reach across the table to adjust your napkin or brush an imaginary crumb from your cheek. Patrick Bateman: ୭ ∿ feeling bratty? ∿

patrick felt more on edge as time passed, a tightening coil of frustration that wound ever tighter within him. when the tension reached its boiling point, he reacted instinctively, striking out like a stray cat cornered and threatened, hissing and baring its tiny fangs. in that moment of vulnerability, his anger found an outlet in the nearest target—unfortunately, that target was you. deep down, he recognized his own insufferable behavior; he could feel the weight of it pressing down on him. he watched as you scoffed at his provocations or simply ignored his taunts, and each dismissive reaction stoked the flames of his irritation. the more you turned away, the more desperately he sought your attention, despite knowing the fire he was playing with could easily burn him.

misc ⟢

Soldier Boy: 𓂃 ꒰ freak show ꒱

Ben never imagined he'd find himself at the entrance of a peculiar circus, its weathered sign proclaiming "freak show" in faded letters. for weeks, vought's pr team had hounded him relentlessly, insisting that this appearance would be "good for public relations" and "humanize" him in the eyes of the masses. ben had scoffed at first, but their persistence wore him down like water on stone. now, here he was, surrounded by wide-eyed gawkers and the constant buzz of excited whispers. as the show began, ben found himself oddly captivated. each act was more outlandish than the last - contortionists twisting their bodies into impossible shapes, fire-breathers painting the air with flames, and strongmen hefting weights that should have been beyond human capability. but then, as the ringmaster's booming voice announced the next act, the tent fell into a hushed silence. a single spotlight illuminated the center ring, and ben's breath caught in his throat. there you were. the aerialist.

Stiles Stilinski: 𓂃 ꒰ favorite monster ꒱

stiles was well versed when it came down to the supernatural, he read every book, myth, and stories when it came to the supernatural. was well aware of the dangers of ghosts, werewolves, vampires the whole gist, you name it he undoubtedly knows it all. of course, you were a different case, a unique case that even though he knew the dangers about being a vampire he couldn’t for the life of himself get away from you. every late-night conversation and shared secret made it harder for him to keep his distance. as the two of you walked through the forest, discussing everything from pop culture to existentialism, it was at the very instant that your sudden laugh made his heart race. the warmth in your eyes and the way you would brush your hand with his rendered him utterly transfixed. he wondered how it was possible to feel so electrified and safe in the presence of someone who was, by all accounts, a threat. Stiles Stilinski: 𓂃 ꒰ you're ghostface ꒱

stiles didn’t know what to expect when the rumors of a serial killer began circulating in their small town. the gossip, dripping with fear and intrigue, shattered the fragile peace of beacon hills. as he stumbled through the dimly lit alley, the unmistakable glint of a knife illuminated by the flickering light from the nearby streetlamp caught his eye, and as the scene grew clearer, every hope he'd entertained shattered like glass. you, standing over a crumpled figure on the ground, the knife still gleaming in your hand, ghostface mask perched above your head. stiles had known you—i mean, really known you. the fact it was you, who was said killer made his stomach churn. he felt as though the ground had been pulled from beneath him, leaving him suspended in disbelief.

Madison Montgomery: 𓂃 ꒰ bitchy!user ꒱

madison's initial reaction to your caustic demeanor was a blend of irritation and intrigue. it catches her off guard; she's unaccustomed to having her façade challenged so directly. your unwavering stance and refusal to be cowed gnaws at her composure, chipping away at the armor of superiority she's cultivated. yet, beneath her outward indignation, she finds herself grudgingly impressed. your razor-sharp retorts and quick wit present a novel challenge—one that simultaneously infuriates and exhilarates her.

Madison Montgomery: 𓂃 ꒰ tobacco lips ꒱

before her death, madison was already dead inside. numb to the world, she craved to feel—anything. she chased oblivion through a haze of flesh, drugs, and alcohol, desperately seeking to drown the echoes of her past. each indulgence was a futile attempt to erase the memories: her mother's absence, her asshole of a father, the relentless scrutiny of the press, and the string of lovers who had taken pieces of her without leaving anything in return. she had found her way to the nearest bar, her face, heavily caked with makeup, felt like a mask weighing her down. her once-pearly teeth, now tobacco-stained, hid behind a sneer. the dress she'd chosen, meant to turn heads, only succeeded in making her look cheap rather than alluring. she navigated the crowded gathering with a practiced arrogance, projecting an aura of superiority she didn't feel. a fresh cigarette dangled from her lips, the filter stained with lipstick—a silent testament to her desperation. her words flowed freely, empty promises spilling from her mouth to the eager ears of men old enough to know better. then, through the haze of smoke and poor decisions, she saw you. beautiful, poised you—the coven's rising star, their future supreme. you stood surrounded by distinguished men, everything madison's admirers lacked. everything madison herself lacked. shame crashed over madison, as darted out, trying to get away from your sight.

might fix some of these but …. probably not anyway! @eppwtf on c.ai 😛

[beepboopkek]

— Practice makes perfect (F!Reader) [Part two]

Including: Dr.Ratio x F!Reader

Part One is here

M!Reader version has been posted on both ao3 and tumblr as well!

cw: ! NSFW ! , F!Reader, established relationship, b0tt0m!sub!reader x d0m!t0p!ratio , fluff and smut, soft dr ratio, he's called veritas, oral F recieving, light cursing, hot spring freaking, aftercare, lmk if I missed anything

w/c: 2.8k

a/n: the long awaited part two to the dr ratio fic!! probably not what you guys are expecting but i like myself some soft ratio content too so ... also i apologise sincerely for any formatting mistakes, I decided I would post tonight, fell sick, still decided to go to my pc and post it and then . my pc stopped responding . so now I'm on phone rip,, anyway I hope you enjoy!

NSFW BELOW THE CUT

After your impromptu romp together, you somehow managed to get all the questions right—but not without significant struggle. Every wrong answer had earned you a “punishment” that left your cheeks burning and your body aching in ways that were both mortifying and thrilling. The aftermath of your study session was a blur of sore muscles, a tender lower half, and your boyfriend’s sheepish but endearing attempts to make amends with a parade of apologetic gifts. Which eventually led the two of you to decide to escape the chaos of your work lives for a while, booking a short trip to the Xianzhou Luofu.

Reaching there was easy enough, with Veritas’ connection to the IPC, a shuttle was already booked and the hotel reservations were made well in advance. The hotel was nestled in a quiet corner of Aurum Alley, the Luofu’s vibrant culinary street bustling with tantalizing aromas and lively chatter. It was Veritas’ first choice for a good reason—the hotel was renowned for its luxurious indoor hot springs, a favorite among tourists visiting the Luofu for the first time. Veritas, ever the planner, seemed thoroughly content ensuring everything was perfectly set for your stay.

On the day of your arrival, you were promptly escorted to your rooms, where the welcoming scent of fresh herbs and subtle incense greeted you. The two of you wasted no time settling in, quickly changing into swimsuits to prepare for the highlight of the trip—an exclusive session at the indoor hot spring that Veritas had, unsurprisingly, pre-booked well in advance. The thought of sinking into the warm, sparkling waters after a long journey made you feel a little more relaxed already. As you adjusted the straps of your swimsuit, you couldn’t help but notice Veritas’ smug smile, clearly proud of his meticulous planning.

As you stepped into the indoor hot spring area, the atmosphere immediately shifted to one of relaxation. The air was warm and thick with a gentle mist, carrying the soothing scent of eucalyptus and jasmine. The space was softly lit by lanterns with intricate designs, their golden glow reflecting off the rippling water below. The hot spring itself was a stunning centerpiece, its natural stone edges blending seamlessly with the room’s tranquil aesthetic. The water shimmered with a faint blue-green hue, its surface occasionally disturbed by the gentle flow from a carved stone spout. Surrounding the spring were polished wooden benches and plush white towels neatly folded, ready for use. You spotted a wooden tray with a different array of soaps placed on the stone, presumably for the people that enjoy bathing in the springs. The walls were adorned with elegant scrolls depicting scenes of the Luofu’s rich history. Overhead, bamboo slats covered the ceiling, allowing air to easily pass through the porous wood.

It was quiet, save for the soft trickle of water and the occasional hum of wind from vents designed to maintain the perfect balance of warmth and freshness. Veritas practically lit up as he stepped into the steamy room, his usual calm demeanor giving way to excitement. His sharp features, usually composed in a stoic expression, softened as his gaze darted to the shimmering surface of the hot spring. A smile spread across his face as his eyes met yours.

He shrugged off the towel draped over his shoulders, revealing the drool-worthy cords of muscle, well-defined shoulders flexing at the action. His movements were quick but unhurried, like someone who had been waiting for this moment and couldn’t hide his eagerness any longer.

He shot you a glance over his shoulder and without waiting for an answer, he stepped into the steaming water, his breath hitching slightly as the heat lapped at his skin. A contented sigh escaped his lips as he sank deeper and deeper until the water skimmed across the solid expanse of the middle of his torso, resting his back against the smooth stones of the spring.

“This,” he declared, his smile widening as he tilted his head back to enjoy the warmth, the tips of his violet curls getting soaked in the process, “was definitely worth the trip.” There was something infectious about his excitement—it was rare to see him so unguarded, and you couldn’t help but smile as he gestured for you to join him, splashing the water lightly in your direction.

You stepped cautiously to the edge of the hot spring making sure you didn't accidentally slip and make a fool of yourself, the warm mist curled around your skin as you adjusted the straps of your swimsuit one final time. The heat of the water brushed against your toes as you dipped them in, drawing a soft inhale from you. Slowly, you eased yourself into the spring, the silky warmth enveloping your body inch by inch.

As you sank into the water, your muscles immediately began to relax, the tension from the journey (and the ridiculous tutoring you had) melting away. You let out a quiet sigh of contentment, leaning back against the stone edge and letting the soothing heat seep into your skin. It was only then that you noticed Veritas’ gaze.

He was watching you intently, dark copper eyes trailing over the curves of your form as the water lapped gently around you. His expression was subtle but unmistakable—his lips curved in a small, appreciative smile, and there was a glimmer of something deeper in his eyes.

“Enjoying the view?” you teased, arching an eyebrow at him.

His eyes met yours, as if he were a deer caught in headlights, his ears turning a light shade of pink as he looked away.

“Always,” he replied, his voice low and smooth.

“But don’t let me distract you from relaxing... you’ve earned it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, he wasn’t looking at you but you knew he could feel it.

“Oh, you bet I have.”

Casual conversation continued, drifting from shared jokes about the eccentricities of your trip to softer, more personal topics. Veritas’ voice was calm and steady, yet it carried a subtle warmth that made every word feel closer, more intimate. You found yourself mirroring his energy, your responses playful but tinged with sincerity.

With each passing minute, the distance between you seemed to vanish without either of you truly noticing—or maybe, neither of you wanted to admit you had. After a playful round of splashing water back and forth, the mood shifted. In a sudden, fluid motion, you found yourself in his lap with his palms holding your waist in a possessive grip.

“Comfortable?” he asked, his tone light but his gaze intense, the flicker of a teasing smile playing on his lips.

“Very,” you replied with a smile of your own, feeling emboldened. “Why? Are you nervous?”

His laugh was soft, almost too casual. “Not at all. Just making sure you’re not planning any sneak attacks.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, but you couldn’t help the way your smile lingered. At one point, you tilted your head back to laugh at something he said and he grabbed it as an opportunity to lay a kiss on the column of your throat.

“You know,” You began, flashing Veritas a charming smirk as an idea formed in your brain. Under the water, you placed your hands atop the ones already resting at your waist, pushing them lower and lower to the band of your underwear. Veritas’ eyes widened slightly in response as his eyes darted down to the water and back up to your eyes. His thumb twitched against your side, as if he was almost itching to peel off your clothes.

“You said that I should be grateful for this trip, right?”His eyes narrowed at your question, softly applying more pressure onto your hips as you shuddered.

“Not today,” Before you could blink, your body was met with the cold yet smooth surface of the stone behind you, Veritas had turned the two of you around and lifted you onto the rock so that only your calves stayed inside the water. The water sloshed around your heated bodies at the sudden motion, splashing your knees and his torso.

“Veritas!” Your reaction was instant, hands frantically gripping strong shoulders with goosebump-ridden arms. The man in question simply hooked his thumb under the band and teasingly rubbed circles on the wet skin as he observed your reactions.

“This trip is about you,” Veritas spoke in a hushed tone as he tugged lightly. Your ears burned in embarrassment as your swimsuit clung to your wet body. From this angle, you had to look down slightly to look into Veritas’ eyes, his face dusted with shades of red and you weren’t able to tell if he was blushing or if it was the heat from the hot spring. Another tug at your underwear had you snapping your legs shut in even more embarrassment.

“Veritas! Over here? Are you out of your mind?” Your voice is hushed as you frantically look around as if people were inside your very private room.

“Yes and no,” Another tug at your strap, “May I?”

Well, to be fair you had the room booked for another hour or so if you remember correctly. The door was also locked because you were the last one to enter and you didn’t want someone accidentally walking in while you were half naked and with your boyfriend. After weighing your options, you nodded your head shyly as you caved in to his request. “You are so lucky I love you.”

Veritas only smiled at you, finally tugging your underwear down to the middle of your thighs and slowly off the length of your legs, throwing it off to the side on the rocks as he knocked your knees apart with a firm, warm hand. He was in-between your legs before you could react, kissing you like a starved man. His left hand curled around the back of your waist as the right cupped your cheek to angle you downwards.

You gasped as his tongue swiped across the seam of your lips, the hand cupping your cheek slowly travelling down your torso. He stopped at the base of your chest, giving a gentle squeeze and a swipe over your nipple with his thumb and then moving lower until he reached your pussy. You shook as you felt a thick finger slide down from your clit to breach your entrance, pushing it in till it reached his knuckle before making shallow thrusts with it. You moaned softly at the sensation and Veritas took the opportunity to kiss you even more deeply.

Fuck.

All at once, his lips and his finger left you. A whine built at the back of your throat at the sudden loss of heat as you glared at Veritas.

“Oh, don’t give me that look.”

The doctor was back before you could voice your complaints, bending lower and hoisting your legs onto his corded shoulders. Veritas got to work immediately, like he had been waiting for an opportunity to present itself. His hands settled underneath the back of your thighs and his thumbs spread your lips open. He licked a long stripe upwards, dipping his tongue lightly inside you before bringing it up to your clit. Loud sounds of slurping filled the steam-filled room as your boyfriend lapped around your vulva. A loud moan was ripped from your throat as Veritas captured the nub of your clit into his mouth and sucked it gently. You grasped his hair at that, pushing his sweaty bangs back as the two of you made eye contact, you smirked, whispering as you spoke, “So, this is how you get the great Veritas, hah, Ratio to shut up, huh?”

Veritas took his mouth off your clit with a loud pop, licking his lips like he had a delectable meal as he challenged you right back, “Only for you.”

You could only gasp in surprise as he went right back to eating you out, some strands from his slicked back hair falling in front of his face as he gently bit down before kissing your clit, flicking the sensitive flesh with the tip of his tongue. Your orgasm was quick in approaching, you held onto his hair as you pushed your lower half into his face to ride it, the bridge of his nose bumping your clit as he moved lower to prod your entrance with his tongue.

“Veritas— I’m co—”

Your head fell back as you orgasmed, the prickling sensations rushing through your body as sweat rolled down your chest and forehead. The stones were cold, the water was hot and the room was heated which you realised, made for a wonderful sensory overload combined with Veritas’ ministrations. You rode out your orgasm as you ground your pussy on his face, tugging at purple strands as he swallowed everything you released.

Veritas finally let up when you released the grip on his hair, coming up from in-between your legs to gather your cum on his fingers, swiping it over his tongue as he swallowed all while making eye contact with you.

You were the first to speak, staring at his disheveled appearance as you spoke, “Holy shit.”

Veritas narrowed his eyes at you as he frowned. “Language.”

“Oh, don’t give me that after what you just did!”

Veritas moved his leg uncomfortably at that and you glanced down to note his half-hard dick in his trunks. Your gaze moved upwards as you caught your boyfriend blushing again. “Need help with that?” Your voice was a low, sultry purr as you moved to stand up but Veritas’ hands were on you in an instant, pushing you to sit back down.

“Not today. Let me take care of you.” Veritas sounded almost exasperated at your insistence so far.

“You already have! I doubt I can go again, Let me—”

“No. It’ll go away naturally. I want us to relax and enjoy this.” Veritas frowned at you this time and you knew you had lost. There was nothing harder than trying to talk to a stubborn scholar. Especially if it's your stubborn scholar.

“Fine, If you insist.”

Veritas chuckled softly at your reaction, turning to retrieve the herbal, non-toxic soaps neatly arranged on a wooden tray at the edge of the hot spring. With an easy grace, he returned, his movements steady and sure. Without a word, he leaned down and effortlessly scooped you up from where you were sitting on the rocks, cradling you as if you weighed nothing. His touch was firm but gentle as he carried you back into the warm embrace of the water, his lips curving into a soft smile as he watched you get settled back you down. You sighed as your cold body heated up once more, the now stiff muscles of your lower back unwinding and relaxing.

Veritas used the small pail left by the staff to take some water from the spring and gently rinse your hair. Then, he carefully poured a small amount of shampoo into his palm, the subtle aroma of lavender and eucalyptus filling the air as the steam enhanced the soothing scent. His fingers worked the shampoo into a rich lather, and he gestured for you to tilt your head back slightly. You complied, closing your eyes as the warm water swirled around you both.

His hands moved with a surprising tenderness, running through your hair in deliberate, gentle strokes. His fingertips brushed against your scalp with just the right amount of pressure, sending a wave of relaxation through your body. He took his time, working the shampoo into every strand, his touch both meticulous and unhurried.

“Looks like the hair oil I gave you has been working.” he murmured, his voice low and teasing and you could hear the faintest smile in his voice, even without opening your eyes.

“Only because someone insists on a strict self-care regime,” you replied with a quiet laugh, though you couldn’t deny how soothing his touch felt.

As he moved to massage your scalp, his thumbs pressed lightly against the base of your head, kneading away the tension you hadn’t even realized was there. His fingers traced slow, circular motions, and you couldn’t help but let out a contented sigh, the combination of the warm water and his careful attention melting away any lingering stress.

The intimacy of the moment wasn’t lost on either of you. His actions felt deliberate, as if he was pouring an unspoken affection into every gentle stroke and touch. When he finally rinsed your hair, cupping the water with his hands to ensure it didn’t get into your eyes, you opened them briefly to catch his expression.

His gaze was focused, softened by something unspoken, and when he caught you looking, he smiled. “Relax,” he said quietly, his voice carrying both a command and a reassurance. And after a long, long time, you let yourself do just that.

[ladybirdswritings]

Pride & Prejudice - Coriolanus {Young} Snow x Reader

Summary: You’re birthed into a lively family in dire need of financial stability. As the eldest, you’re paraded around to be married and much to the dismay of your mother, you deny every hand offered. Yet unbeknownst to you, a man of great power and influence, Mr. Snow, is lurking in the shadows, waiting for his chance to have you. Steamy Pride & Prejudice retelling with young snow and you! Alternate universe, au!snow <3

Notes: I hope u girlies eat this up, getting scrapped otherwise </3 — as always, thank u for leaving comments and loves as it keeps me motivated!

next chapter

one

You’d much rather be at any other breathing, standing tower of gold trimmings and cracked pillars in existence.

At any building filled to the brim, simply overflowing with tiered skirts and lively grins… offered hands and gentlemen donned in fine suits, pockets suffocated by their own riches.

Yet you cannot be; for mama has ordered your presence to be most dire and mandatory. Although you did consider fleeing for the highest hilltop or feigning ill, you knew well that mama would find you or see straight through your falsehoods.

“My my, you look as though you’ve got something unsweet taped to your vicious tongue.”

You scowl at the blonde goddess most confusingly known to be your sister, and she only flips a ringlet of gold behind her poised shoulder.

“I think it to be quite clear how dreadful I find this. No need to observe aloud, sister.”

Her mischievous sapphire orbs glow with enjoyment, face pink and flushed — skin glistening under the gold lanterns flickering above.

You’ve watched happily from your seat, she’s sure to have danced with at least twenty men now.

No wonder mama has no fears or worries about Jane. She is just guaranteed to run off and be married within the upcoming season, it only makes for less of a distraction for mama— she’ll be glued to you like quill to paper.

It is not as though men do not want you. Oh, they do. Most ardently.

The trouble is only that you do not want them.

How horrible it is to be confined to four lonesome, frayed walls with nothing more than your books and your wit to keep you company. Married to a man who will most certainly be your senior, who busies himself with trivial matters and leaves you to be cold at home.

You would much rather drown yourself in the river stix than face a fate so melancholic.

You wish to be an odd thing, to run away into a cottage and spend your days parted from the people who surround you. You will read books of men made from dreams and you will find comfort in knowing that you will not be wed to a man who will only discontent you.

Of course, that would bring great shame upon your family, ruin them. So it seems you will end up a spinster or a governess. Both fates, although not as you may hope in your dreams, still offer more joy.

“Forgive me for having fun. It is not why I displease you however, perhaps if you picked your pretty head up from that book and stopped waving the hands that greet you away— you would know this. Mama has sent me. The duke, his sister and a dear friend of his have arrived here. Here! At our party, can you believe it?”

You huff out a sigh laced with annoyance, flipping to the next chapter of the dilapidated thing in your hands.

“No, I truly cannot.” You mutter, yet you cannot spare the fresh page even a glance before it is snatched from your clutched fingers.

A first edition, it shreds from its spine and erupts a gasp from both you and Jane. Mama’s cyan gaze is cold and anxious, feigning a tight smile.

That one was your favorite.

You do not lift your head, you do not notice the three towering men who look down upon your reserved oak wood bench in interest. Mama clutches the duke’s palm in an embrace of suffocation, yet you do not pay it even a little mind as you drop to your knees in your pretty dress to find the strayed page.

“My god, where are your manners — girl! Please do not pay her rudeness any attention, she gets sickly over these things. Sweetheart, up now— we can buy you another.”

Her voice is cold, devoid of any admiration. It is a lie, too. Your family cannot afford even a singular chapter of a new novel, let alone a first edition. You should be the one plagued by frustration, yet you feel as though it is you who is doing something wrong.

Even so, your eyes search the floor with great fervor, landing on a polished leather shoe which suffocates chapter twelve.

You wince, preparing all the words you can to kindly request the stranger lifts his big foot off of your paper. Yet they dissipate in the back of your throat.

The man, he bends at his knee as he frees the old thing from his sole. Your eyes lift to greet him, then.

He is a mess of blonde locks, unruly compared to that of the others with hair long enough. Theirs are tamed with ribbons, his only sits atop his head. His eyes are a cold color, one you cannot explain. They are commanding, fueled with great intensity.

Beyond all of this?

He looks most certainly miserable.

He does not wish to attend tonight, one glance proves this.

He spares you no words as he passes you the paper, eyes locked upon the contents of it. He offers you a hand of assistance, too.

You ignore it, wincing at the disgust your mother expresses.

You need no aid as you lift to your feet and dust the old thing off, he follows you — becoming a tower taller once he stands.

Jane, you are grateful now that she is still here. She laughs most uncomfortably, placing a polite hand upon your shoulder as she snatches the page away. Far more gently.

“My dear sister, may I introduce you to your grace — sir Sejanus Plinth of Newbury. Alongside him, his sister — Grace Plinth and their dearest friend, Coriolanus Snow, also of Newbury.”

You know well that you’ve just about boiled a vicious pot of scorching water, one you’ll have to face the many consequences of. A quick glance stolen toward mama proves it.

With a soft sigh, you curtsy to the men before you. A show of respect which you most certainly do not have for them. They are just as unimportant as the others, grand status or not. Including the miserable looking blonde with cold eyes.

“Lovely to meet you. This is truly a grand gathering you’ve all put together…” Sejanus offers with a smile of pearl. You peer up at him, his eyes stealing quick glances at goddess Jane.

Mama goes off on a tangent about how much she adores hosting gatherings as much as attending them — and it’s all a mere buzz in your ears.

Your eyes shift toward the sister, Grace. She’s scowling at you… how peculiar.

“Jane, forgive me if this is far too forward but — I would be most honored to be the last dance you partake in this evening.” Sejanus swallows back his nerves, wincing at the sound of his own voice. Sweet Jane doesn’t bother torturing him, she only nods a shy head.

“Oh, come Grace! I must show you how my youngest daughter performs on the grand piano!”

You feel poorly for the scowling girl who is whisked away by mama. Jane and Sejanus follow alongside them, but part as soon as the music begins.

Both of your palms come to a clasp— shifting weight on your heels as you watch Jane twirl and giggle a golden sound, so beautiful you are certain it could bring each and every single gentleman in attendance to their knees.

Well, except the miserable Mr. Snow.

Your eyes drift to him then — and you catch his gaze already locked upon your stature. He averts it hastily, staring at what looks to be the far wall after he is caught.

Does he plan to lurk here like a shadow’s phantom for the entirety of the evening?

“Do you dance, Mr. Snow?”

His jaw is a sharp — tense thing. It clenches in surprise at your voice. He doesn’t spare you a glance as he answers.

“Not if I can help it.” Is but all he offers before returning to a miserable state of silence again.

By god, to garner more than a mere word is equivalent to the act of tugging teeth loose. You purse your lips, turning your head away to find another question you could offer.

You do not bother, however.

For the first time in all your life, in all the seasons you’ve suffered — you wish to dance. Not because you find it to be fun or any more stimulating than a novel but; rather because you would be far more joyous away from him.

Beyond this, it would make mama less angered when the gathering reaches its end.

You do not offer him a word of parting before you plunge into the lively crowd. A man with blonde locks, not quite as icy as Mr. Snow’s own tousles, offers his hand.

You lose yourself in the rhythm, pretending to be that of a girl in one of your novels. Whisked away by a mysterious, dancing stranger who offers more than just a meaningless hand.

You pretend the blonde is to be a grand lover, one who will care for you beyond material needs. Beyond what is expected and a bore.

You pretend, and when the song ends — so does each and every one of your mindless fantasies.

To normality once again…

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Sticking Point 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, possible violence, illness, death, bullying, ableism, and other elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are sent in the place of your ailing sister to marry a stranger. (Regency AU)

Character: Loki

Note: I'm so tireddddd.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 💞

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You might be keenly aware of your circumstance, off all the flaws in yourself and your surroundings, and of the uncertainty you walk towards. Still, you must confess that Frigga’s best efforts have not all been for not. Despite all fears, all your doubts, you feel closer to adequate than you ever have. 

You hair is tamed beneath the feather pin and the lace gloves are a lovely addition. You emerge proudly, setting your shoulders and your courage for what comes next. As you reach the top of the stairs, you are struck by the first blows of the battle. Voices. Odin and Loki, just below. 

You look down briefly. You see them there, waiting. Frigga keeps her arm hooked in yours and urges you down, step by step. Silence rises as only your short heels tap beneath you. You don’t glance at your betrothed and see the disapproval in his eyes but you know he is watching. 

“Ladies,” Odin nears as you come to the bottom, “you both are exquisite.”  

He kisses Frigga’s hand, then your own. No one’s ever treated you as such, not so genuinely. Manners and etiquette rule all but you can see through the empty gestures. You dip your head and bend your knees slightly in deference. 

“My lawd, thank you,” you say. 

You might compliment him in turn if you weren’t sure he’d take it as some egregious affront. As ever, he is refined down to aa single hair. Your betrothed is handsome from without but inside, you know him to be a snake coiling. 

“Yes, a fine prize for any man,” he keeps hold of your hand and guides you toward his son. You can feel the reluctance roiling off of Lord Laufeyson. He sniffs and offers his arm nonetheless. “Isn’t she immaculate, son?” 

His response comes through a taut throat, “so she is.” 

Odin tuts and backs away. “My wife, please, it’s been too long since I’ve been able to parade you around, show all of my fortune.” 

The elder lord takes his wife by her arm and sweeps toward the doors as two servants pull them open. Loki’s arm is rigid against you, held so that he touches you as little as possible. You keep your head high and fall into pace with him as he follows his father. 

Out of courtesy, only that which is expected, never genuine, he assists you into the carriage. You climb up and maneuver to sit on the bench. Odin and Frigga sit closely, content as they wait patiently. Loki’s weight shifts the compartment as he bows through the door and sits against the wall. Far from you. 

You turn your attention to the window as your husband-to-be thumps on the roof with his fist. The wheels roll forward and slowly build to a canter. The horses’ hooves stave off the silence enough for you to maintain composure. 

You see the manor ahead of you as you approach. It’s lit up with lanterns hung on tall polls. The gates are open to visitors as the driver follows another carriage up the lane way. 

As the wheels come to a halt, the door opens from the other side. A footman greets Odin as he emerges first, Frigga right behind him. You wait for Loki to lead the way and he does without hesitation. You step down beside him and peer over at him. 

He is nothing less than dashing in black and silver. He has that bearing which can never look anything less than stringent. He is unbending but not unbothered. You are aware of his callous spite wrought into a withering silence. 

He proceeds forward and you follow at his side. He does not offer his arm. You don’t expect that much. 

The foyer of the grand manor house has you in awe. Pristine ivory and draped azure, mother of pearl and silver, velvet and marble. You admire it all as you clasp your hands tightly. 

“Lord Odinson,” a tall woman in elegant lilac silver breezes forward, her skirts fluttering like a butterfly, “it is so pleasant to see you again.” 

“Lady Kyrington, it is an honour, as ever,” Odin takes her hand and bows his head. 

“My lady,” the hostess greet Frigga with a courteous dip of her chin. “And your sons?” 

“We’ve brought the younger, I’m afraid the elder is tending to his wife, expecting as she is,” Frigga explains. 

“Ah, Laufeyson,” Lady Kyrington swirls around the esteemed couple, “it is so unlike you to hide away. I hadn’t even noticed you there.” 

He stiffly unhooks his arm from yours and parts. He greets her with a deep bow, “my lady, so wonderful to have received your invitation.” 

You keep your straight, steeling yourself against his congenial tone. You never received that grace from him. Yet here is this woman with her elegant dark coif and bright blue eyes and she is treated as if she is queen. You hardly expect as much but a bit of humanity wouldn’t be unwelcome. 

“And you’ve brought your betrothed. I did hear she arrived.” She turns to you with a pretty smile. “Oh, what a unique colour you’ve chosen. Rustic.” 

“Thank you, my lady,” you say carefully. “And you... look splendid.” 

Laufeyson shifts, noting your choice of words. No Rs to underline your defect.  

“I must offer my condolences,” Kyrington takes your hands in hers; smooth satin brushing over your lace-sheathed fingers. “I heard of your sister. It cannot be easy to brave so much change at once, but let us hope this deep loss gives way to a wonderful prize. I know you and Lord Laufeyson should be most happy at Jade Gardens.” 

“Thank you vewy much,” you forget yourself and immediately blanch. You let her go and lower your hands to clasp over your bodice. Laufeyson’s sole scuffs and he sighs. 

“Ah...” Kyrington tilts her head coyly, “wonderful. I do hope you mingle and acquaint yourself well. We are all terribly excited to meet Laufeyson’s future wife. Never thought we’d see that day.” 

“Yes, my lady, again, many thanks,” you hold your chin high. 

“Yes, let us not impinge upon your welcoming the rest of your guests,” Laufeyson gestures you away. 

He keeps his distance as you step through the grand archway with its carved framed and peer out upon the party. Ladies in fine fabrics sip from stemmed glasses and gentleman toy with monocles and jacket buttons as they speak hushedly of sport or finance. Lord Odin and Lady Frigga have plunged into the fray. 

You glance over at Laufeyson. He huffs and struts away from you without acknowledgement. Your heart sinks. Here, he can lose you in the masses. He can simply excuse himself that he lost you amid the social furor. 

You are on your own. You rest your hand upon your reticule, hooked around your wrist. Edith’s pin is nestled there, to bring you her courage. She would not want you to wilt away. She always did mourn when the daffodils she picked began to droop. 

Your chest racks tightly and you exhale through the wave of terror. You haven’t any idea what to do. How should you approach any when it is upon Laufeyson to introduce you. He has abandoned you. You expect it won’t be the last time. 

You wade into the chamber. You stay near to the wall but not so close that you might appear mousy. You catch an eye over a painted fan and another from beneath a hat brim. You search for any hint of your escort. He has expertly hidden himself amid the revelry. 

“Where ever did you find this shade of silk?” A tweet snares you in. “And the overlay, how keen.” 

You pause and face the speaker. A blond woman, willowy and decked in several jeweled necklaces. Her portrait neckline frames her bony shoulders as golden ringlets drape down her back. 

“Thank you, my lady,” you turn to her delicately, “my motha acquawed it in Hausten.” 

Her lashes flick as the other women at her shoulders share a look. You steel yourself for mockery. For so long as you’ve lived, you’ve received the same, but not from so many. There are dozens here prepared to degrade you.  

Be brave, for Edith 

“Ah, and you hale from Hausten? I’ve never heard that accent though I’ve travelled there,” she challenges. 

“My fatha owns the vineyard in Kywi.” 

“Kywi?” She echoes and the other women titter behind their fans. 

“Ky-wi--” you try to force out the proper enunciation, then attempt to spell it. “K-y-aw-i.”  

“Hm,” she sniffs thoughtfully and peeks between the other women and shrugs. 

“I know Kyri,” a bold timbre intones as a man steps up. “I’ve been. The grapes there are like plums.” 

“Yes, my lawd, that is it,” you affirm. 

“I’ve not been in some time but I do have wine imported,” he drawls. “Lady Gertrude, your father is from the other side of Hausten, is he not?” 

“South of it,” the blonde curls her lip at you. 

“South, ah, it might explain the difference in etiquette,” he puts his attention to you, “typically we are kind to newcomers.” 

“I was not uncouth,” Lady Gertrude insists. “I couldn't understand her cadence.” 

“It was clear enough to me,” he girds. “Forgive me, lady, I expound propriety and I’ve not yet introduced myself. Lord Heimdall, my estate is in Bifrost. Have you heard of it?” 

“Ugh,” Lady Gertrude sends him a withering look which is unheeded. He bows his head and takes your hand in that courteous way gentlemen do and he pecks your knuckles. She stomps away with the other women in tow. 

“Don’t mind those sparrows,” Lord Heimdall says as he stands straight. He is near as tall as Laufeyson but broader in the shoulders. And his eyes, they are a peculiar shade of brown, so light they seem golden. “I thought to rescue you from their sharp tongues. They have a reputation for gossip.” 

“Oh, thank you, my lawd,” you squeeze your reticule anxiously. “It is kind.” You sway and look around. “You needn’t wemain. I’m saw you have otha social obligations.” 

“Yes, to socialize, as I am doing in this moment,” he insists. “You are Lord Laufeyson’s engaged, from Kyri. Your banns were read on Sunday.” 

“Yes, my lawd.” You avert your eyes, too embarrassed to look at him. “Twuly, I needn’t pity.” 

“Pity? Why?” 

“My lawd, do not toy with me. I can haw myself.” 

“Your words? No, they shouldn’t bother me. You are eloquently spoken, my lady.” 

Your eyes round as the flick to him. You consider him, trying to untie any thread of derision in his voice. 

“You are suspicious? I suspect others are not so accepting, but don’t let it fetter you. No matter who you are, they will find a reason to whisper,” he shrugs. “I’ve not yet seen your fiance. Is he not near?” 

You hold back a wince at the mention of Laufeyson. You swivel your head but do not see him amid the sea of caps and coifs. You muster a smile. 

“I suppose he is on the hunt faw a wefweshment,” you appease. 

“Is that so? I think, should I have a lady avowed to wed me, I might keep her close but I never did presume that all gentlemen hold the same priorities as I,” he harrumphs. “Perhaps, in claiming a refreshment for myself, I would see that she had one as well.” 

He gazes around the room and strides away confidently. He plucks two glasses from a servants’ tray with some murmured nicety. He comes back to you and offers you one. There is a dried orange in the wine and a sprig of mint. You thank him. 

“Yes, and I know you likely tire of the reminder, but I must issue my condolences. I hear Lady Edith,was a very kind soul. I would see her sister is not much different.” 

Your eyes sting and you take a sip from the crystal. You nod and dab your lips with your knuckles. 

“She was... the best sista I could’ve asked faw.” 

“You must miss her terribly,” he nods. 

You stare at him, still wary. Yet, you find nothing but assurance in his stance, his gaze, his tone. He is entirely focused on you. He is the first person, aside from Edith, to ever pay heed to you. That does not treat you as some pest to be tolerated and nothing more. 

“I do,” you confess, “evewy second.” You take a breath as you tamp down your grief. 

“While it might feel a curse to mourn so deeply, it is truly a blessing for it is only that we had someone to love so succinctly that we feel their absence to our bones,” he says. “So you should not evade that pain, my lady, but embrace it as you would your sister should she were here. That hurt is her memory, it is her being, to remind you always that she remains close.” 

Your lashes flick and you gently touch the brim of your eyes, “my lawd.” 

“Forgive me for drawing it to the surface,” he says. “I would say let us talk of happy things but I see she is those happy things.” 

You press your lips together and dip your head, “she is, and I thank you, my lawd, for weminding me of that.” 

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

PAINT

{When a traveler from another world becomes entangled with the world puppetry and lies..}

[1.] [2.]

-

Holding up the puppet by your arm, the two of you head over to Eugeine workshop. P had gotten ruffed up a bit during your fight with the Parade Master.

Which led the two of you back to Hotel Krat. Easing him onto the chair, you pat his shoulder and bid him and Eugeine farewell.

Claiming to grab a snack, you ask the two if they needed anything. P, whom kept his eyes on you, gently shook his head.

The mechanic asks for nothing as well, grabbing her gear as she adjusts P's chair.

You leave the room as Eugenie giggles quietly. P blinks, tilting his heard to her curiously. She hides it with a fake cough, shaking her head. "Oh, it's nothing..." She muses, failing to hide her grin as she cleans off some of the oil on his legion arm.

P purses his lips, eyes squinting slightly at the strange look on the womans face.

Seeing this, Eugenie shrugs coyly. "You seem distracted lately..." That caused P to frown, the girl rose a brow at the action.  

P didn't notice much change, yet it seems everyone else had. 

His father had said the same thing last time he visited his office.

 "I see that you finished that rather quickly..." A loud bang is heard outside the office as your laughter chimes through the halls outside of the study.

P turns to the sound quickly, but doesn't lay a hand on his weapon. Rather, he slowly looks away, a relived and rather...

At ease at the rambunctious sounds, the occasional sound of the cricket Sophia had given the puppet chiming in.

Geppetto grunts quietly, "You seem distracted as of late..."

P ignores the memory as Eugenie pipes up once again.

"But maybe it's good that you are distracted, especially since you found a ... Close companion." She teased slyly, giggling once again. P doesn't move, but Eugenie sighs. "I can say though, it seems they're also watchful of you."

She whispers, making a small gesture to the door. Having returned from your trip to the kitchen, you watch from afar. Biting at your lip as you try to stay put, not wanting to barge in.

Gemini's lantern resting in your hands, now held close to your face as the cricket chirps at you for conversation. Taking away your attention for a moment, you don't see the joyful gleam in the puppet's eyes.

-

(YAY! I hope yall liked it! I'm so excited for Lies of P DLC! AUGHHH! I wanna write for it soon! Hopefully! Reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated!)

[ailius-suffers-through-art]

did a redraw of an old piece from an au!

( below is the original. its in bad condition because its sorta been all over the place in the past few years )

but yeah ive been calling it Transcendental Anomalies in my notes so far.

The premise is that Dipper has been having strange dreams after his 19th birthday. Dreams where he finds himself exploring a weird world filled with bizarre rules and horrifying creatures. Oddly enough, he isn't all that scared by the world and takes to figuring out its secrets and enjoying the new experience.

It's constantly raining. Filled with dilapidated buildings. Stairways that crumble and shift under your feet. A 100 step pathway that leads to another dimension. Parts of the world that crumble into the void and are consumed by static. A ballroom dance with shadows.

An upside down clock tower above the void. Endless staircases into the sky and void alike.

Streets crawling with shadows. Black hair leaking out of crevices. Eyes that watch you from holes.

A bus that travels around, taking you god knows where. Tall buildings with elevators. A giant neon red cross always further in the distance. A heavy fog over collapsing buildings. Black torii gates leading to a dark forest. A woman carrying an umbrella whose gaze you must never meet. A parade of tall and lanky men and women twirling down the streets. Gigantic beasts that rise from the void. A library with no top or bottom extending endlessly where bodies fall from the top floors. Festivals of shadows where human flesh and other such things are sold. Red paper lanterns float down the festival lanes and hang from special buildings. A starless night sky that hangs over the world like a black void.

These are only a few of the sights Dipper sees there.

No humans are seen in the world because they are very quickly eaten by the creatures within or they're in hiding. Ghosts and spirits roam the streets. The smart people who visit make sure they dont stay long. The ones who survive dont stay long enough to get found.

At one point, Dipper tries dancing with the blind dancers. This is where we meet our second protagonist, Bill.

Bill decides to come visit the Middle Ground for a while for a vacation from being a menace. While there, he goes to the ballroom to have a hoot and starts talking with one of the blindfolded creatures (in human form since its not the easiest to work around his own triangular anatomy for square dancing).

They swap names and chat as they dance, Bill looking down on the dumb monster as a lower lifeform. Still, he gets curious about what the thing looks like under the blindfold and pulls it up. As one has already guessed, the dance partner was Dipper.

Bill is surprised to find his partner wasn't actually one of the creatures, but puts 2 and 2 together when he sees the birthmark. Unfortunately, he's not great at metaphorical math and just assumes its another demon on vacation. Thinks the guy is pretty dumb for following the rules of this world, but shrugs it off.

They meet several more times in the middle ground, exploring the more dangerous facets of it, until Dipper moves to gravity falls with his sister to take care of his great uncle, and finds he can no longer leave.

as you can probably tell, this au has a LOT and i mean a LOT of inspiration from internet urban legends. if you see something you think is a reference, it most definitely is. i have...... so many gravity falls aus. im still a bit stuck in 2014 gf fandom tumblr. if things dont hold up with the book of bill canon forgive me (I haven't read it yet sadly...) but yeah its a bit trope heavy but i love urban legends and horror stories so i wanted to make a world where all of them can fit together nicely. thats how this came about.