#UPDATE WOOOOOO

[jccatstudios]

Six of Crows: A Comic Adaptation

Part 1, Chapter 2

Pages 25–26

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[megamindsecretlair]

I passed probation 🥳🥳 ive been SKRESSSSSSSSSSSED these past 6 months and yall have been a giant help so I'm sharing some good news with yall.

Thank you to each and every single one of yall. This app has been keeping me going 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽🥳

[lowkeyren]

hi lovelies, halloween fic out soon (in like 4ish hours) no spoilers but it's a character i haven't written for in a while :3

will link here!

[project-doomsday]

DD Progress/Updates 23

ALMOST THERE BABY!!!

Hi folks it’s me EMatooney back at it again with another update!! 3 PAGES ARE COMPLETE!!! Only one more to go and we’ll be golden babyyyyyyy!

Thank you all for your patience!! And I wanna thank my pal @edgy-artkid too! I know he’s just dying to get started and I couldn’t agree more!!

Also, I have news! I managed to hire another person to help with the backgrounds! But not just any backgrounds, no no no! 3D BACKGROUNDS!!

3D!!!!!!

I don’t know if she has a tumblr account but if she does I’ll update this post so you can check out her stuff! She’s my childhood best friend and I am so happy to have her help! Things are really comin together folks!!

Anyways, that’s all I have to say for now!! I will definitely let you know when I’ll be posting the pages! In the meantime, stay tuned!

- EMatooney ❤️❤️

[blu-ish]

HALF WAY THROUGH MY RUN RN HAVE I EVER MENTIONED ON HERE HOW MUCH I LOVE RUNNING ITS SO FREAKIN AWESOME SAUCE LIKE I HAVE THE ZOOMIES

[dawnleaf37]

sillythings and a few afterfic doodlings of @saint-felix ‘s AWESOME regretevator fic that yiuguys saw me go normal over a few days ago. Finally. Regretvator fic that is angst and not wallmark 🎉🎉🎉🎉

[kratosnaturals]

· · ───────────── ·✿· ───────────── · · “I need your help finding these men. The ones that are still alive,” came the words, cold and distant, but laced with a certain hot edge.

He swallowed, felt his insides twist, “I don’t take on revenge cases.”

“I have the caps,” said Darcy matter-of-factly.

“Of course you do, but I don’t take blood money. Not anymore.”

“This is about revenge,” Nick snarled.

“Justice. For the greater good. Their trail is littered with the rotting corpses of the innocent.”

[dietmimo]

SHOP UPDATE✨✨✨

ITS FINALLY HERE!! Got lots of new goodies to share! New charms, enamel pins, wooden pins, and stickers! Lots and lots of stickers ahaha

Use code OCT2023 for a 10% discount on purchases $25 and up ✨

Code expires Oct 31, so get grab em while it's up! ✨

[c00kietin]

have you seen them!??? well if you havent before now you have :]

WAIT WHAT-

I SAW SEA URCHIN BUT NOT CARAMEL CHOUX WHA!!!

THEY BOTH LOOK SO COOL!!!

once I get them I gotta draw them jdsfhdjkl

[cvldbones]

one single thread of gold

chapter 8 (of 11): twenty-six

Where she once thought she had carefully excised the parts of her that had been touched by Anthony Bridgerton, he finds a way to seep back into her bloodstream. It is so typical of them, she thinks. How could it have been any other way? Over the course of a decade, Kate and Anthony keep finding, and losing, and choosing each other.

***

Nothing happened in the way I wanted Every corner of this house is haunted And I know you said that we're not talking But I miss you, I'm sorry

***

If Anthony did not know better, he would believe there was a damn wedding happening at Aubrey Hall this evening.

Their outdoor space is scattered with tables and pristine ivory linens, each adorned with so many florals that Anthony almost wants to laugh at the absurdity. They are in a garden, for Christ’s sake, and yet his mother had decided more flowers needed to be brought in for the occasion. Waiters in crisp tuxedos patrol the space, backs ramrod straight as they hold their trays of champagne; the two bars at either end of the patio are not quite overrun by guests yet, as the party is not set to begin for another – Anthony checks his watch – ten minutes, but the bartenders are already at attention.

For his part, Anthony has already claimed a scotch – double, on the rocks – so he sips it delicately as his gaze roves over the space. He has responsibilities tonight, he knows; this is not one of those times where he can make polite pleasantries and passably depart after a singular turn about the room, no matter how desperately he might wish it.

Seventy-three, his brain reminds him, and he takes another pull of his drink.

Benedict emerges from the house, his bowtie slightly askew and face contorted in worry as he looks around the mostly empty garden. When he spots Anthony, his expression clears into something closer to a smile, though the concern still lingers around the edges. “There you are,” Ben says upon approach, relief coloring his voice. “I’ve been looking everywhere.”

Anthony hands Ben his half-empty glass unceremoniously, frowning as he adjusts the bowtie. “I haven’t moved from this spot in a half hour,” he points out, and Benedict huffs.

“There’s a million fucking people here.”

“Just wait until the actual guests show up.”

“Oh, god, don’t remind me.”

Anthony laughs, pausing to study his handiwork before nodding and reclaiming his drink. He takes a sip and studies his brother curiously. “Everything okay? I figured you knew what was coming when you let Mum throw your engagement party. You saw how Daph’s went.”

Ben groans and runs a hand over his face. He snags a champagne flute from a passing tray, downing it in several gulps. “I thought – I thought it was just because she was the first one! Plus, she’s a girl, so – ”

“Our mother loves little more than to throw a party,” Anthony reminds him, raising an eyebrow. It has been strange, these past few months, watching first his sister and now his brother decide to get married. Both of them still seem so young to Anthony, too young to be making these kinds of sweeping life decisions, for certain.

Most days, though, Anthony just feels like he’s standing in place, watching everyone else move along in the world without him.

His gaze fixates on a spot in the grass, just behind Benedict’s head. He thinks of red wine and stars in the sky and half-truths.  

Seventy-three, he thinks, unhelpfully.

Benedict’s sigh cuts through Anthony’s addled mind. “Well, yes. I’ll be fine,” his brother promises. “And Sophie – ”

“Will be better than you,” Anthony interrupts.

Benedict smiles, a wide and goofy thing that feels almost indecent to witness. “Absolutely correct. She’s the fucking best.” Something scarily close to longing curdles in Anthony’s chest, only to be quickly replaced by anxiety when his brother clears his throat, that troubled look returning. “But that’s not actually why I was looking for you.”

“No? Need something from your best man?”

Ben’s face remains stoic despite the teasing, and Anthony’s forced smile feels even more plastic as his brother says, steadily, “You should know she’s bringing someone, tonight.”

Anthony does not have to ask who he means. There could only be one person.

Read more on AO3!

[jv-f1]

“Just arrived in Bahrain to kick-off the season. I can't wait to see the FW46 take to track for the first time tomorrow! 🇧🇭”

— James via Instagram

[natugood]

make it make sense that I enjoy doing my job (especially the tedious parts) when I am off the clock, but as soon as I am supposed to be working I'd rather be doing LITERALLY anything else????

[inquisimer]

sometimes it scratches like barbs

an alternate prompt fill for @febuwhump day 9: I love you. Nathaniel has always worn his heart on his sleeve. But Ciel is not Fereldan—now she must manage the fallout of getting involved with one.

read it on ao3 here

Female Andras/Nathaniel Howe | Rated T | 1317 words | CW: self harm, fantasy racism

-

Her hands clenched around his leathers, the smile falling from her lips. Ciel blinked up at Nathaniel. Moonlight hung around his hair and the look he gave her was soft and warm and open.

“What did you say?”

“I love you.” Casual. Nonchalant. Like they needn’t dance around rituals or follow steps. Like there wasn’t a process to such affection. Even when it was possible.

Fereldans.

Ciel dropped her forehead to his chest and squeezed her eyes tight against the emotion welling there. Steeling herself with gritted teeth, she shoved him away.

“You don’t mean that,” she said flatly.

“I do. I love—“

“You don’t. You can’t.”

His expression flashed from surprise to confusion to hurt before it settled on anger. Anger was good, familiar. A parlay they knew well and a tool easily twisted to fix the mistake he seemed bent on making.

“And why is that?” he asked lowly.

“Just one reason will do?”

Nathaniel scowled. “Do not treat me as one of your Banns, Ciel. I am your Constable, at the very least. And your friend, if not more than that.”

He stepped closer, arms outstretched to close the distance she’d put between them. But she held out a palm and shook her head. His hands thudded dully against his sides as they fell.

“Tell me why, then,” he scowled. “I’m a man of reason and logic. If what you speak is true—“

“Would you listen? If I listed the reasons this cannot go beyond a dalliance? Or would you push on, foolishly hopeful?” Ciel shook her head. “This is not a debate, Nathaniel. I do not owe you an explanation.”

“I rather think you do,” he snapped. “And if you won’t give one—“

This time he crowded her against the battlements’ edge, catching her face between his calloused palms and forcing her to meet his hardened gaze.

“Look at me, just like this,” he growled. “And tell me again. Tell me that this—this aching in my heart is anything less than love, Ciel.”

The flat mask of one who’d survived the clutches of the Orlesian Court overtook her face. But her pulse thundered in her throat and she knew that he must feel it against his hands. She clenched her jaw together and glared at him.

This was her fault. He was too new to the Wardens, too entrenched in the oddities of this pocket Order in Ferelden. An intersection of time and fate and happenstance—the rest of the world did not work like this. And eventually, one or both of them would be called away from it and forced to confront a cold, pragmatic reality.

A reality in which humans did not fall in love with elves. In which Fereldans did not love Orlesians. And in which Wardens were not afforded the luxury of love at all.

She knew the cautionary tale of Genevieve. And she knew every rumor about her predecessor in Ferelden and the broken heart that drove her to disappear. Nothing but tragedy awaited a Warden who dared to love. She would not inflict that on Nathaniel, nor would she let him do it to himself.

For once, she broke the stare down first. Within the confines of his grip, she dropped her chin to her chest and swallowed hard.

“You cannot,” she said raggedly. She pushed him away again, but he refused to go. His grip dropped from her face to her shoulders, his fingers digging bruises into the skin there.

“I can,” he insisted. “I do.”

She slapped him. Her palm connected with his cheek and in his surprise he released her. Seizing the distance needed for a clear head, Ciel stepped back and folded her arms over her chest. “Do not be a fool, Nathaniel. Drop this. There is no future in it.”

“No future?” His bitter laugh echoed off the Vigil’s stone. “What future do I have anyhow? You made sure of that, Commander.”

“The Wardens are a future. For you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He jabbed the griffon emblem stamped across her chest plate. “Unless you have very recent news, they’re a future for you as well. They could be a future for us, together.”

“Ten years.”

“What?”

“Ten years, since I joined the Order.” Ciel pulled the blood-filled pendant away from the hovel of her throat, so he could see how battles and time had worn away the leather cord. It contrasted sharply with the fine, black braid around his own neck.

“I’ll be a Blighted corpse in the Deep Roads before the Calling is even a distant tune in your mind,” she said curtly. “You do not want to tie yourself to a dead woman walking.”

“Is that not all the more reason to seize on the time we have left?” Nathaniel asked earnestly. “Love does not care for the woes of the world—if we must suffer such fates, let us have the moments now to make it worthwhile!”

Her teeth clicked together. He didn’t get it. Heartsick, idealistic folly. She would have to be more pointed, more personal. There must be a clean, unequivocal break, lest he squander the time his limited time with what ifs and should have beens.

“You cannot tell me that I do not love you.” His hands caught at hers and he drew her close, despite the reluctant drag of her feet, unwavering against her harsh glare. She cringed at the repeated proclamation. Wasn’t she a wretched little thing, to have led him along so fully? “Because I know that I do.”

There was a catch in his voice. He took a deep breath. “But if you must be so insistent, look at me. Look at me, do not turn away, and tell me that you do not love me. Tell me that, and I will let it be.”

He caught the point of her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Do that, and I will never speak of this again.”

“But—“ he brushed the softest, lightest of kisses over her lips. “I do not think you can.”

Under his hands, she stilled, cold and hard as Tevinter’s finest marble. When he pulled back, the moonlight reflected a dangerous glint in her eyes and, for the first time that night, uncertainty, and fear, flashed in his eyes.

“I do not love you,” she lied. Voice steady and even and calm. His hand dropped to her neck, as if he could catch her in the act.

“I don’t believe you.”

“That is not my concern.” She covered his hand with her own and pulled it away from her skin. When she dropped it in the space she’d carved between them, it hung, reaching, disbelieving.

“I do not love you,” she repeated. A lie was usually easier the second time, the words no longer foreign on her tongue, her mind already cementing them as a new truth. But this one burned her throat as surely as fiery darkspawn blood.

Nathaniel’s face crumpled He pressed his lips together and nodded, a single, sharp jerk of his chin.

“Right then,” he said. “Good evening, Commander.”

As he retreated, Ciel propped her hands against the battlements and exhaled. This post had dulled her skills, that she felt so torn by a child’s exchange of the Game.

Damn you, Alisse. Sending me here.

She pressed down against the stone and the jagged edges of it tore open decades’ worth of similar scars and callouses. Loose stone dust stung the open wounds and she drank in the pain as an alcoholic with a wine skin in hand.

Nathaniel had a good heart. Full of good intentions and passion that would take him far.

She twisted her palms, bearing the full weight of her body and her armor on them to drive the wounds deeper.

He deserved much better than her. And she deserved no less than this.

[l3xdrigo]

So current Reverse:1999 news for the CN servers

Developers are planning on giving us new information about version 1.6,I believe this will take place in China (most probably in Ancient China) They're going to announce new arcanist, gameplay and rewards on December 29. So for anyone who is on the CN servers, stay tuned for that :>.

(Btw here is the link for the live broadcast on December 29th: https://www.bilibili.com/opus/878916468182351880?spm_id_from=333.999.0.0 )

[ahatintimepieces]

Now that Tim is back in the human world, the prince realizes that he’s more alone than ever. Mari and Hat are desperate to keep him from giving up completely, but will the revelation that Mari knows who he is push him further away, or finally convince him that home isn’t as far out of reach as he fears?

[v-tired-queer]

Did I stay up literally all night in hopes of fixing my sleep schedule tonight by being so absolutely exhausted that I will have no choice but to sleep at a reasonable hour? Yes.

Did I think this through at all? No.

Is this healthy? Beats me, I'm not a doctor.

Bit did I roll out of bed at a bright and early 6:00 AM and immediately set things out for my breakfast and started on my laundry? Also yes.

So far a lack of sleep has done what coffee only wishes it could do for me in the morning. I am awake I am alert I am ready to go.