#WHO SENT THE ASK WHICH FEATURES THE SAME IMAGE

[scatterbrainedbot]

i love rats so much and i’ve nEEDed to at least doodle your kids oNCE, they fill my heart with such joy and sunshine!

definitely gonna do a better piece when i get to a place that i actually can, but here’s this for now!! hope you’re doing well !

MIFFLE MY FRIEND I HOPE U DONT MIND BUT I PLAYED W THE EXPOSURE AND SUCH A LIL BECAUSE I NEED EVEN LOWEST BRIGHTNESS BITCHES (me) TO WITNESS THIS MASTERPIECE????

MIFFLE I AM DECEASED OH MY GOD???????

GOD UR SHAPES ARE ALWAYS FUCKING AMAZING BUT THIS??????? AND THE DETAILS DUDE OH MY GOD LOOK AT MIKEYS CHEEK FLUFFS AND THE PERFECT PERFECT SHAPE OF DONS SNOOT AND THE RIPS IN RAPHS EAR AND HIS LEVEL OF DISHEVELED FLUFF LIKE FUCKING PERFECTION WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK??? THE WAY LEOS EARS CURL A TINY BIT LIKE ACTUAL RAT EARS?? I AM LEGITIMATELY CRYING

[nobodyknowsimalesbian777]

Sunshine (pt 2!) - pitfighter!vi (Arcane)

NSFW tags - porn, fantasizing about sex, switch!reader, sub!vi, dom!surprise character, pussy-eatting & fingering (r!receiving), face-riding (vi!receiving), bit of angst, lowkey evil reader ngl, kinda rushed

authors note - okay, it's here guys!!! this could probably be a stand-alone, but i strongly recommend reading part one first. i hope you love it! i hope the grammatical and spelling errors are not that bad, i really wanted to get this out before act 3 😛😛😛 ----------------------------------------------------------

you felt your hands shake as you lifted your head, meeting vi's fucked-out gaze

the pit in your stomach grew as you realized she didn't just accidentally call you Cait,

she was imaging you were Caitlyn

vi tilted her head, bringing her hand up to your cheek

you pulled your head away, throwing yourself up and nearly stomping to the bathroom

a shattered woman stared back at you in the mirror, and you could hardly stand it

rushing, you picked up everything you'd need for the night and slammed the door on your way out

you heard vi follow you out the door, calling out and asking what was wrong

her voice was enough to break you, and you felt tears stream down your face as you continued to a hotel a few blocks away

you had never felt a pain this deep before, and you found yourself questioning how often she thought about cait while she was with you

the thought killed you

you always liked caitlyn, but you hated her now for taking away vi

your violet

the violet you picked up and put back together while she killed herself for a woman who left her, sobbing, on the ground

suddenly, an all-consuming idea to get back at vi filled your mind,

how much would it hurt her to see the two women she lost together?

that's when you decided you needed to find caitlyn kirraman

it wouldn't be difficult, she was well known as the piltover military leader

you had both grown up in the same circles, which is why you were so surprised to find out about her past with vi

not that it mattered now,

you couldn't think of anything other then showing vi exactly how you felt, ruining her with the same name she had used to ruin you

----------------------------------------------------------

you had spent the morning traveling back to piltover,

your parents welcomed you back with open arms, consoling you as you told them about what vi had done

the day was spent getting ready to find Caitlyn,

you had to make yourself look presentable after spending the night sobbing

caitlyns home wasn't far from yours, so you picked out a bottle of wine and made your way

----------------------------------------------------------

the kirraman house stood tall, beckoning you up the stairs,

every step you took was one step closer to your vengeance against vi,

and that's all it took to encourage three firm knocks against the wood of caitlyns door.

the door opened to reveal a red-headed officer, she eyed you up and down before her thick Scottish accent pierced your eardrums

"junior officer nolan, what's your business here?"

you sighed sweetly, putting on your best act

"im here to...see an old friend" you hated how insincere you sounded

officer nolan, however, didn't seem to notice

she stepped back, inviting you in and even leading you back to a big conference room

you hasn't seen caitlyn in years, her youthful features had sharpened, and she kept her blue hair tucked under her cap,

it was impossible not to feel a mix of inferiority and attraction as you gazed at her

the wine bottle clicked as you set it on the table, prompting caitlyn to swivel around and meet your intense gaze

"who are you?" her accent sent shivers straight down your spine, but you had to remind yourself why you were here,

more, what you were here for.

"it's nice to see you too, caitlyn" you chuckled, again feigning sweetness

her eyes softened as she seemed to recognize you, a relieved sigh leaving her parted lips,

"i apologize, i've been a bit...on edge, as of late." a soft chuckle escaped you,

because she couldn't possibly imagine how much worse it was going to get.

----------------------------------------------------------

weeks had passed with caitlyn, and you spent every available moment by her side

tending to housekeeping, amoung other, more personal matters

every moment you spent with her, you became more infatuated

you compared every part of her to yourself, questioning what made her linger in vi's mind while you had been together

it was very conflicting, as you were starting to realize exactly why she stuck

and every day that passed made you question if your affection towards her was an act.

these thoughts plagued your mind, when it wasn't filled with memories of vi

love was a confusing feeling for you,

and this triangle you had fabricated was not making a whole lot more sense

you spent nights laying in bed with caitlyn,

your hands drifting across the body that vi hadn't gotten the chance to know,

but somehow managed to love

much more then she had ever loved you, if she had at all

thoughts of leaving caitlyn had, of course, come up,

letting her feel the pain she had put vi, and (although indirectly) you through

but you knew that it would have been a waste of your time

you had spent time creating this scenario, and you were so close to the end

the last step was ensuring vi got a good look at you and cait, a real up close and personal look

luckily, cait frequently left you alone in her home when she was on missions

and her specific kirraman house parchment was not incredibly hard to find

so, as caitlyn slept, you drafted a note. one that would ensure vi was exactly where you wanted her

' vi, i need to speak to you. tommorow, midnight, sneak in the way i showed you...please. -cupcake'

you had it brought directly to vi's door, and moved into the next part of your plan, waiting.

----------------------------------------------------------

the day seemed to drag on, caitlyn had endless amounts of visitors requesting her audience

you expected she would need her favorite form of stress relief at the end of the day

and you had no. idea. how right you were.

right at 11:45, just as you expected, caitlyn came into your now shared room

she immediately shed her uniform, huffing as she made her way over to the bed, where you lay waiting

cait shoved you down by the shoulders, making your back hit the bed as she straddled your legs, her strong thighs enclosing you

your moans echoed on the walls as she kissed down your torso, stopping only to hastily untie the robe covering you

the clocks hands ticked away behind her, showing '11:50', '11:53' and finally, right as she was spreading your legs, '12:00'

you made sure you were facing the window, while cait laid out on her stomach

hungry hands reached up, grabbing at any piece of flesh they could reach

all the stress of her job was taken out on your abused cunt,

you had barely felt the warm satisfaction of her tounge on your clit before she was ramming two fingers inside of you at a brutal pace

you'd never admit it, but you absolutely loved when cait treated you like this

when she reminded you that she owned you, regardless of why you came to her

vi was rarely allowed to see you this way, you made sure that she was satisfied above all else, and she used that

she used you

you suppose caitlyn did too, in a way

and suddenly, a thought you'd never had before was all you could think of

caitlyn continued her brutal ministrations on your clit as you imagined vi above you,

her cunt smothering you, absorbing your moans as you teased her entrance

you imagined cait standing, leaving you needy and wet, and watching you, directing you

telling you how exactly to touch each other, exactly what she wanted to see

you were pulled out of your fantasy when you heard the window slide open quietly,

cait was far too enamored with you to hear vi's soft gasp as she laid eyes on the two of you together

you lifted your head, making direct eye contact as caitlyn messily licked up and down your cunt

vi watched in shock as you arched your back, gripping the bedsheets tight as you reached your peak all over caitlyns face

her soft moans were drowned out by your intense ones, you made sure to give vi a show as you came undone

cait lifted her head, moving up to kiss you before she realized you were looking directly behind her

glaring, more then looking actually

she whipped her head around, meeting vi's tear-brimmed eyes

they both looked between you and each other, you could see the millions of emotions passing through them as their eyes finally stayed on you,

you offered a simple shrug, pulling your robe back over as you sat up

your voice rung out in the painfully quiet room,

"doesn't feel so great, does it?"

----------------------------------------------------------

okay gang idk how i feel about this yet?? i will defo come back after act 3 drops and clean it up a bit, i just wanted to get something out. i hope you like it soso much, i love the idea and im hoping my execution isn't too bad! as always, please please pleaseeeee leave all the insane requests, i love them all and it's so nice to get inspiration and just to know what you all want to read!!

[purinfelix]

pablo gavi - academic rivals please🙏🙏

do i wanna know? ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ - pablo gavi

pairing: gavi x reader summary: when you started noticing a familiar face in every one of your classes, you hadn't expected it to lead to such an intense rivalry - at least, that's what you liked to call it warnings: none! w/c: 1.2k

a/n: no one knows HOW OBSESSED i am with this trope like i am such a sucker for it so i literally jumped to my laptop the minute i saw this ask ... sooo lmk if yall want a pt2 to this if u like it!!

“And what trunk movement does the internal oblique cause?” your professor’s voice echoed through the massive lecture hall, followed by the soft buzz of student discussion - only half of which you figured was relevant. You flung your hand up without even bothering to look up from your notes, confident in your answer from having already reviewed the content this morning.

“Ah, you in the back,” you heard, taking this as your cue to speak.

”Ipsi-”

“Ipsilateral trunk rotation,” interjected a voice from somewhere behind you. Hundreds of people were crowded together in this room for this anatomy lecture, but you were able to pick out the owner of that voice the minute he began to speak.

Craning your neck around with as calm an expression as you could muster, you locked eyes with Gavi, who only sent you a smug smirk as if to silently say “beat you”. You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to reply with a similarly silent “who cares”, before turning back around and trying to stave off the growing heat in your cheeks. But the reality was that you cared. In fact, you cared so much that that singular moment fogged your brain for the remaining two hours of your lecture, and if it hadn’t been for your prior revision you likely would’ve gotten lost.

You couldn’t remember specifically when it had begun - this strange, almost childish rivalry that sprung up between you two. If you had to say though, it was probably some time in between when you realised you had exactly the same schedule as him, after seeing him in every single one of your classes, and when the two of you tied for first ranked in your cohort for the last semester.

It wasn’t necessarily the fact that he was smart that annoyed you though, it was how effortlessly smug he was about it all. You’d need both hands to count the number of times you had left the library after an entire day of studying for an upcoming exam, only to walk past your campus’ football field and see him playing a match with his friends, their laughter almost tauntingly boisterous. Every answer to a question, every mark received, every essay submitted by him was enveloped in an air of instinctive confidence you envied.

But, you were old enough not to let yourself be disheartened by the sight of naturally talented people - having come to terms with the fact that hard work and discipline was your weapon of choice a long time ago. So, you threw yourself into your studies harder than ever before with a fervour that was only spurred on any time you saw Pablo and his friends messing around in the library, on the rare occasions they actually went.

This also might’ve been a little more manageable if he wasn’t intent on teasing you at every given opportunity. Every single time you were given a grade, a score, a mark back, he would be waiting for you outside the classroom, ready to compare with an unmistakably arrogant and eager smirk painted across his features. You bit your lip recalling the last time you had compared scores for your stats class, only to find out he had beat you by one mark. You couldn’t remember the question you had gotten wrong or how to do it, but the image of his smug look of victory once he realised he had beat you was forever burned into your memory.

With just five minutes left, your attention was snapped back to the lecture as your professor cleared his throat to gain the attention of your class.

“Oh and while you’re all packing up, I just wanted to remind you that your marks from the last test are available online now! Check them and let me know if there’s any issues, see you next week.”

With his dismissal, the room around you burst into chaos as students packed up, desperate to flee the lecture hall as fast as possible. You remained still though, eagerly opening your phone to check your mark, heart racing. Once the numbers flashed across your screen, you pocketed your phone, satisfied, and got to packing up like the rest of your peers.

Exiting the hall you spotted a familiar face, rolling your eyes as Gavi spotted you through the crowd and waved you down eagerly. You pushed past a couple classmates as gently as you could before making it over to the corner he was patiently waiting for you in.

“So?” he asked.

“You first,” you pressed, trying to hide your smile.

“What? I asked, you go first,” he crossed his arms as the smug expression you had grown used to after many of these similar post-lecture rendezvous spread across his face, “unless…”

“Unless?”

”You’re ashamed of your mark.” His reply made you scoff louder than you had intended, and he quirked an eyebrow in interest. “Well?”

“Full marks,” you muttered, avoiding eye contact in an attempt to seem as nonchalant as possible, and potentially to prevent your cheeks from burning red again.

“Oh shut up, I got 98,” you figured he would’ve been upset but he was still smiling, if not wider than before.

“What’s with that look?” you furrowed your brows, turning to him.

“Well, I’m not surprised, you’re the smartest in the class,”

“Oh c’mon Pablo if you really think saying things like that is going to get to me then y-”

“I mean it,” he interrupted for the second time that day, and from the earnest look in his eyes you could tell he was being honest - not that that made it any less confusing, but it was nice to know he wasn’t just winding you up again.

“Yeah whatever,” you scoffed, “not like it was that hard or anything.”

“You’re kidding right?” he laughed again, “I almost died taking that test, it was nearly impossible! I can’t decide if you amaze or scare me.”

“Well maybe if you spent more time actually studying, you wouldn’t find it so hard. Plus you did well anyways.”

“No amount of studying would make me anywhere as smart as you,” he sighed, “though if that’s an offer for me to study with you, I won’t turn you down! I’ve got practice to get to though, so not today.”

All previous attempts to hold back your flustered expression gave way and you felt your cheeks burning bright red. “What? No!”

“How’s tomorrow night, 8pm? I’ll meet you in the library, at your normal spot?” he said, already turning to leave.

”Huh?” was all you could let out but by then he had already jogged around the corner and was definitely out of ear shot.

You stood there, your heart pounding as you gripped the straps of your bag with sweaty palms. Millions of questions raced through your head - Had he actually called you smart? How would he know where your normal spot in the library was? If it was going to be just the two of you, wasn’t this practically a date? - and unlike the confidence you had felt earlier when facing your professor’s questions, it seemed like these were ones you might never get the answers to.

[mhsdatgo]

Do you think the show is biased against the Greens vs. Team Black? If so, how should the show have demonstrated that both teams are awful, in your opinion?

Hello anon!

I've got a lot to say on this one.

First of all, yes. I totally think that the show had some obvious kind of bias towards the Blacks. Not necessarily with the way the Greens were treated as devils with no likeable qualities except for Alicent (even if there are several instances of them doing so) but more because of the way the Blacks were whitewashed.

Rhaenyra.

Look, you'll never catch me not expressing my contempt for this woman, no matter the fact she was brought up by a man who did nothing but spoil, enable and indulge her in everything and anything she says and does. I can see the path they're taking in the show by adapting her as an irresponsible woman who flees at the minimal inconvenience and cowers to her dad at any minor inconvenience, but literally everything that makes her Rhaenyra Targaryen, Rhaenyra Targaryen, is removed.

She just looks like the next girlboss Targ Dragonrider queen after Daenerys. They basically made GOT season 8 and sent show!Rhaenyra as an apology. But in doing so they basically made her... Boring. Her and her children, which I don't love or hate. (The closest one I am to "liking" is Jace, I guess, but the leaks are just making me rethink everything again.)

I would've loved it if they had given us ONE pre-Dance book!Rhaenyra scene that would've made her appear more ruthless than what we have on the show, and not just the time when she offered 10 year old Aemond to be tortured. Make her ask Daemon to go after Vaemond (sorry pookie) like she did in the books, make her feed his corpse to her dragon. Sure that wouldn't have made me change my mind about how much I dislike her bUt it WOULD'VE made me go "damn she stands on business."

I wanted her to act out of grief and insist on going to war when she miscarried Visenya and lost her father, because although I don't think that the Greens did kill that poor little girl (she had dragon features and was likely going to die anyway) I do think that Rhaenyra should've been allowed her pain and the irrational and impulsive thinking that comes with it.

Alicent.

OH BOY.

Where do I even begin with this one?

Olivia Cooke SLAYED. Lemme just start with that. She took the whole cake and ate it too and left no crumbs. The direction they've taken with her is a realistic one, at least for the actions and decisions she's taking. Reckless, for sure. Risky, deathly even. Her fear is realistic, even for someone as Alicent Hightower no matter how much determination had protected her from dread.

What I don't like is the way she was treated as everyone's object and her shutting up about it. From Rhaenyra to Larys, everyone uses her for their own disgusting pleasures or outlet of frustration. And she's made to take it without fighting back even once. The one time she does, bless her, she's treated as a woman who's gone mad.

Now, I would've been fine with her taking all these hits if only they knew how to make Alicent change properly and completely from there. If it was me, the incident at Driftmark would be my start to revenge. No longer would I look at Rhaenyra with hope to reconcile with her. No longer would I bear any more of Viserys' shit when it's clear his first daughter (the image of his first wife) bears way more importance to him than me and all the four kids he forced me to have combined.

They'd have to nightly talk me out of suffocating him with my pillow a minute more for every wince and ache my now eyeless son suffers, for a month straight if not more. I wouldn't eagerly stand by his side and listen to his last words only to mistake them for permission to go along with my plans. I'd stand there passively at best, waiting for him to be done, before leaving the room.

Everything else can just be left the same way it was. Her fear when she realizes the effect Viserys' death has on her and her children is realistic. I'd break down for a moment too. I'd act as soon as I could too. I'd cry tears of relief, dread, grief (depends on how you interpret that scene) too. After letting his stinky ass rot for a fortnight. I would've preferred this to be a "there was a plan, but we weren't ready to act it out" situation more than a "what the fuck is going on" situation.

I'd also slap that "you toil in service of other men" dialogue from Rhaenys right back in her face (sorry grandma) since if we're talking about the show, it's literally the only thing she has done throughout the season.

House Velaryon.

HEAVY on this one. They have been done so wrong on so many levels. Every single one of them.

Laena was made to "pursue" Daemon, she changes from a precious, small and shy little girl to a confident, seductive young woman (teenager for fuck's sake, screw everyone who thought making her change this way would've been good) and later on a side piece, "the one Daemon settles for because he can't have Rhaenyra" even if it was known that she was the only one he was never unfaithful to, "she's made her peace" (WTF???????).

It apparently never hits Corlys that the bitch who he believes has made him childless (I AM TALKING ABOUT DAEMON) deserves no support from him and his house or that Luke should actually become a ward there at Driftmark if he's so adamant on keeping this farce that he's a Velaryon and the next Lord of the Tides.

Vaemond is seen as the odd, evil and power hungry one for pointing out that his house is falling into an OBVIOUS bastard's hands whether this kid likes it or not (even as my support for this claim goes as far as questioning Luke's parentage) and to add insult to injury he's made to say Rhaenyra is a whore, which never happened in the books.

The Silent Five are removed completely, Vaemond's sons as well (@redrosesandcharmingsouls knows I was FROTHING at the mouth waiting for Daemion Velaryon to make an appearance but the motherfuckers couldn't even give me that) so that we don't have any kind of reason to believe an execution so brutal and unjust had any repercussions on the support House Velaryon has on the Blacks overall. They are made into Rhaenyra's cheering squad through and thorough, even if they have every reason to be anything but.

The Laenor situation is actually really fucking funny. They made him leave instead of killing him to not bury the gays and they aren't aware that this has totally fucked everything up. Like thanks for telling me ALL of Rhaenyra's children are bastards. Cool, HOW THE FUCK TO YOU HANDLE SEASMOKE NOW?

Aegon II.

No this isn't an apologist post. I'm actually slithering on the ground on my knees for TGC daily but Aegon is a clusterfuck right now, no matter how you look at it. They tell us he's a psycho drunken rapist and he likes to watch children fighting every Sunday and when you actually see his adult version he's a crying love starved bitch of a man and he winces and frowns when Vaemond's head is cut off.

Instead of taking the throne to protect his children, he takes it because he's forced. And that makes Alicent the villain in everything once again. Now it doesn't matter if you look at the book version or what we see of the show version, everywhere you look this is just out of character.

It's inconsistent. He's made the worst thing ever so people can say "See??? They believe a rapist is better to put to the throne than our girlboss virtuous heir!!!" you either make him a psycho or a touch starved baby, why make both?

So yeah, I think this is all. For now. We'll have to see how this show progresses to see if I change my mind in any way.

Thanks for the ask!!!! ^_^

[sgiandubh]

The thing is, this escort mess won’t have an impact on Sam or his image or his products sales. The only ones talking about the mysterious woman and her true profession is this little bubble on tumblr.

The twitter accounts who saw the JJ pictures and knew an obvious pap walk tweeted about it on the day. But they aren’t tweeting about the escort because it isn’t public news, they won’t know it unless they look in this corner of tumblr or people on tumblr post the info on twitter and it gets traction.

The (religious) Sam mommies aren’t leaving Sam’s side because they would never believe it regardless of the proof. If Sam was papped tomorrow with another woman, that would be Sam’s new love. See P**v’s world.

Hawaii had an impact because it was all playing out online, on Sam’s SM feeds, from Sam himself. But other messes that have come up over the years that were big in this tumblr bubble never made it outside of here, had no impact to Sam.

Unless respected publications pick up who the woman is and print it, the public at large will not know. And that will never happen because they only publish what they are told, like Starz in this situation since the article only mentions Outlander and Blood of My Blood, or what Starz/PR have given confirmation to print. These publications won’t go rogue and lose their business with these studios/PR.

Dear Excuse Him Anon,

You wrote a PhD dissertation just to mitigate a couple of things and completely disregard what I wrote. Not nice, girl.

Did you look at the comments under that JJ photo reel featuring the pap walk? They are abysmal. It's between gay and 'professional companion'. Those are, for the most part, casual viewers and followers. It should give us, his PR and himself a pretty good idea about impact. Do you honestly think this is ok, or something he'd get rid of anytime soon?

Anyhow, these are just regular people. If you do think those agents, directors and producers of mainstream Hollywood don't know by now who the hell she is, you are naive. Same goes for his business and CSR contacts. They know. And they do simply because this is about money, first and foremost. Business. So, spare me your good sentiments: you clearly have no clue of what you are talking about.

Suppose that I, as a diplomatic agent posted to Athens, would have been seen buying smuggled cigarettes on the Piraeus docks. How long do you think it would have taken my colleague from Cipher (but not only Cipher, of course) to find out? And by the way: this happened to one of the technical personnel at a friendly Embassy (they do not have access to diplomatic duty free perks), while I was still there. He was sent back home in two weeks, Anon. Standard NATO security rules. So yes: different situation, but same rationale. Prestige and image before anything.

Hawaii 🐰never made it to mainstream press, not even as a 'mystery companion'. And not even to JJ. Damage contained pretty well by S, too - in a very emotional, confused moment, in which even C stepped in with a heartfelt appeal ('If you do not like us, do not follow us', or something along those lines) . Their luck and ours.

The religious Sam mommies won't leave his side until they snap and do, Anon. People can tolerate many things, but it is unlikely they would tolerate something so alien to their own moral code for eternity. Again, naive.

Also, the public at large DGAF about S and his paid pap walk companion. Also, don't ask why he has only flop film proposals. Here's your answer.

What a waste, Anon. What a waste. Lost respect is very difficult to earn back. And he lost a lot of it in what, 24 hours? Wow, Anon. Wow.

Add to this the completely tone deaf ad for Outlander World Day or what the hell it is called and you'll be as (second-hand) embarrassed as I am right now, Anon. Because that is not a bastard, far from it. Just someone in dire need of a complete PR intervention, until it's not too late. If he'd only listen.

[abubblingcandle]

Jamie Tartt Accent Analysis

Um so yeah, after an anon ask to @withbadhair talking about how Phil is posh and Jamie is Manc, I relistened to Phil Dunster's episode on No Such Thing As A Fish again today and got sucked back into how much I love thinking about the intricacies of regional accents and how much I love thinking about Phil's accent work and how it is great!

So here you go -

A Yorkshire Lass' with an obsession with regional UK accents' take on Jamie Tartt's accent

Phil's Intentions with the accent

Phil has said that it was really his choice what sort of Manchester accent they went for (as Jamie wasn't written specifically to be Mancunian) but he was aiming for New Moston sort of area which is north eastern Manchester suburb (see yellow highlighted area on the image)

But he started by mimicking his agent who is apparently sassy and from Manchester but then listened to people like Aitch (who is from Moston which is probably where the idea for Jamie being from Moston/New Moston came from), Marcus Rashford (who is from Wythenshawe which is south Manchester out of the Outer Ring Road), Jesse Lingard (who is from Warrington which is a town between Manchester and Liverpool to the west) the Gallaghers (who are from Burnage which is south eastern - near Highfield Country Park on the map) which was more season 1 Jamie.

It was mentioned that Aitch was a bit inspiration with the attitude and the sort of swagger as well as the accent itself.

Features of a Mancunian Accent (some things to listen out for)

Research says that the Manchester accent can be characterised by a few distinct features:

The LettER vowel: if there is an ER at the end of a word it is pronounced more like UH. So for example "letter" becomes "let-uh"

The HappY vowel: what Jamie is known for. If there is a Y at the end of a word it is pronounced more like EH. For example "poopy" being "poopeh" or "city" being "cit-eh

H-dropping: this is typically northern but prevalent in Manchester. It is not pronouncing the H at the start of a word so instead of saying "head" pronouncing it "ed".

T-glotallisation: if there is a T in the middle of a word it is sort of dragged over. Like in "better" it can be "beh-uh".

-NG: typically if a word ends in -NG you do not say the G. For example "waiting" is "waitin"

All of these features are more easily noticed in words where more than one of them happens like "happy" becomes "appeh" with both H-dropping and the Y at the end

Analysis of Jamie Tartt's accent from a professional (not me)

Manchester Met have done a study of the different dialects within Greater Manchester and have split it into four categories. Lancashire, Mancs, Wigan, Posh. If Phil was aiming for Moston that would be more Manc but some Lancashire.

Dr Rob Drummond who was the lead on this research was sent clips of Jamie Tartt (edit - as a few people commented on this but he is a friend of No Such Thing As A Fish so was sent it in preparation for Phil being on the podcast but was apparently very complimentary so definitely a Phil Dunster win!) and managed to locate very precisely to just north of central Manchester in the Smedley sort of area which is the blue area on the map. If you compare that with Phil's aim of the red area ... that's damn impressive

So if you are looking for areas of Manchester to set your fics around or ways to make your dialogue feel more Tartt. Then we are looking for the Mancs accent and living somewhere in just north/north west of central Manchester based on his accent.

So yeah thanks for reading my thesis. I was going to go into words and sayings here too but it's after midnight and I have been talking to myself for the last hour just repeating the same words in Queens English, Leeds, and Manc 😂

Disclaimer - this is more based on S3 Jamie as S1 Jamie had a lot more subdued characteristics as Phil was finding his feet with the accent.

Side Plug as I have preordered it - Dr Rob Drummond's book called You're All Talk is coming out soon and it is all about this stuff and also social perceptions of linguistic diversity (which as someone who's accent massively chances based on the situation I am in I am super interested in)

[captainremmington-13]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗

show!Luke Castellan x daughter of thanatos!reader

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own the image above or any of Rick Riordan’s characters/world-building. I only own the characters Lola, Layla, and Reylynne , who are featured in this chapter.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: some violence, swearing, mentions of night terrors and death, parental neglect, mild angst, confusing feelings, crying, mentions of puberty

A/N: doing martial arts not only made me stronger, it made it WAY easier to write fight scenes lmao

also, this whole chapter takes place while reader and Luke are both seventeen

Angel.

Who knew one simple word could turn your world upside-down?

According to Luke, he’d said it because you resembled one. Though you made it clear you disagreed, he firmly stood by it. 

How could he see the offspring of death itself as an angel? He was truly a mystery at times.

Nevertheless, the nickname stuck.

.

.

.

“Hey.” 

Luke’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. He was walking up to where you were resting on a worn-down stone bench. 

You were both participating in sparring practice with the rest of the older campers. Unlike the basic sword-fighting classes that Luke hosted for demigods new to camp, these practices were cutthroat. Everyone wanted to prove themselves, and would do almost anything for glory.

“Getting tired already, Castellan?” you teased, scooting over so he could sit next to you.

Luke playfully rolled his eyes. “Not at all. You know I have an incredible amount of stamina.” 

You laughed. “Sure, sure.” You tightened your fingerless leather gloves, and picked up your beloved weapon. “I think I’m done resting for now. Who are you going to spar next?”

“You,” Luke said, as if it was obvious. “It’s been awhile since we’ve faced each other in combat, because we’re always on the same side.” 

“Alright then. Let’s go.”

The two of you walked to the center of the arena, and positioned yourselves about ten feet from each other. Luke raised his sword, his eyes burning with intensity. Even though he was your best friend, you couldn’t deny that it was terrifying to fight against him. He had incredibly fast reflexes, impressive strength, and an intimidating presence. 

You gripped your dual-ended sword so tightly that your knuckles turned white. At least your weapon of choice was almost as tall as you, which allowed you to stay far away from your opponent while still being able to attack. If you were desperate enough, you could throw it like a spear to catch him off-guard and disarm him while he was distracted. 

“Ready, angel?” Luke asked. 

Almost immediately after you nodded in agreement, Luke charged towards you, raising his blade and bringing it down in a deadly arc.

You deflected the blow with the right side of your weapon, and jabbed at his chest with the opposite end. He easily avoided it, and backed up a few feet, waiting for you to make the next move. 

“Come on, don’t go easy on me now,” Luke said, a teasing smile on his face. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied, lunging forward and sending a stab to his abdomen. 

It became a constantly changing game of cat-and-mouse. When one of you became more aggressive and offensive, the other would play defense until they tired out their opponent. 

Many of the other demigods had already called it quits and left the arena, allowing you both to expand your range of motion. Eventually, it was just you and your best friend, alone in the ancient-looking arena. 

You were beyond tired. Your arms felt like they were made of solid Celestial Bronze, and your legs shook from soreness. You were drenched in sweat, which was not a fun feeling. But you refused to surrender, no matter how miserable you felt.

You brought your weapon down like a club, trying to hit Luke’s shoulder. He blocked it, but his sword flew out of his hands. Instead of retrieving it, he sent a swift kick to your sternum, sending you stumbling backwards. Before you could regain your composure, Luke had you pinned to the ground, one hand on your left shoulder and the other holding your wrists together. 

You silently thanked the Fates for the fact that the arena was empty. Otherwise, you’d never hear the end of it from the other campers. 

“I surrender,” you said quietly, your eyes closing as fatigue overtook you. “I’m too fucking tired to keep going.” 

Luke let go of your wrists and shoulder, brushing your sweaty hair out of your face. He still hovered over you, but his expression was much gentler. 

“You alright?“ he asked, setting his sword down to help you sit up. 

“Yeah…yeah, I’m fine,” you said breathlessly, trying to ignore the dizziness swarming your head. “I’m just fucking exhausted. You’re the toughest opponent I’ve ever faced, and I’ve fought a horde of young Cyclopes.” 

He laughed, “You flatter me, angel.” As soon as you were on your feet again, he wrapped a toned arm around your waist, surprising you. This was perhaps the most intimate touch he’d ever given you. Not that you were complaining though. It felt nice. “Now, let’s go get some food.“ 

“Best idea you’ve had all day.” 

________________________________________________

“Hey, you!” 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you saw Lola, a daughter of Aphrodite, looking at you pointedly. She was surrounded by her sisters and a couple daughters of Demeter. 

“I have a name, you know,” you said, standing up and putting a hand on your weapon’s condensed form instinctively. 

“Relax, I promise I’m not trying to hurt you,” Lola said. “Come on, sit with us.” 

You mentally weighed your options. The worst they could do was mock and belittle you, charmspeak you into doing something stupid, or curse you with a bad makeover. And if they did, they’d definitely be caught. Chiron would give them kitchen duty or stable cleaning duty, which would undoubtedly mortify them.

So instead of choosing the stereotypical “I’m-edgy-and-introverted-so-I-don’t-want-to-talk-to-anyone” option, you walked over to where your fellow demigods were congregated.

“Hi,” said a girl you recognized as a member of Cabin 4 (Demeter’s cabin). “I’m Katie Gardner.”

“Nice to formally meet you,” you said, smiling slightly. “I’ve seen you around, you’re in charge of the strawberry-picking, right?”

She nodded. “Yep. And you’re…Thanatos’s child, right?” 

You winced. “Yeah…yeah, that’s me.”

Her expression held no judgement, which made you relax considerably. Lola cleared her throat, diverting your attention to her.

“So, you know Luke Castellan, don’t you?”

“Yeah, he’s a good friend of mine. Why do you ask?”

You didn’t really need to add the last part; you already had a good guess as to why she was asking. 

You and Luke were now seventeen. No longer were you awkward young teenagers who’s proportions never seemed to match up properly. You felt well-adjusted to your more mature body, glad to be rid of the abomination that was puberty. 

Luke looked quite different than when you’d first met him. He’d been a slightly scrawny, cute teen with a sweet smile and wavy brown hair. His hair had become curlier, his figure was more muscular thanks to his rigorous training schedule, and he’d become much more confident in himself. Though his ego was a bit irritating at times, it did add to his charismatic personality.

It was no surprise that people had begun taking romantic interest in him. 

Lola smiled, showing off her pearly white teeth. “He’s cute, isn’t he?”

You shrugged. Honestly, you hadn’t really spent much time analyzing his appearance. “I guess so.”

“So then why haven’t you started going out with him?” 

“Excuse me?”

One of Lola’s sisters spoke up. “Hon, you and Castellan are like two peas in a pod. I rarely see you apart.“

You bury your face in your hands, sitting down on the grass. This was perhaps the most awkward conversation you’d ever had. Well, besides that one time you had to explain to Luke why you felt like your stomach was being stabbed by invisible knives for days on end.

“That’s because he’s my best friend,” you say quietly, hoping that nobody else was listening in. If this conversation got around, it would cause a lot of unnecessary gossip. “He’s the only person who I trust with my life, and he trusts me with his.”

Another daughter of Aphrodite scoffed, playing with her perfectly straightened hair. “That’s ironic, considering that you’re literally the spawn of death itself.” 

“Reylynne!” Katie said disapprovingly. 

“It’s fine,” you said nonchalantly. “It’s true, I am death’s child. Anyways, my point is that Luke and I…we’re just…you know, really good friends. I don’t know how else to explain it.” 

“We just think you two would be super cute together, that’s all,” another of Aphrodite’s daughters chimed in. “Oh, I’m Layla, by the way.” She held out her hand, and you shook it gently. 

“I understand where you all are coming from,” you said as politely as possible. “But I don’t  like Luke that way. I don’t think I ever will.”

Reylynne smirked, which made you inexplicably nauseous. “Fine by me. If you don’t want him, I’ll take him.”

“Reylynne!” Lola chastised, swatting her upside the head. 

You stood up, brushing the grass off of your leggings. “I better go. I have to help my cabin-mates clean up before the inspection later tonight.” 

“Alright,” Lola said, giving you a friendly smile. “Feel free to hang out with us whenever you want, ok?”

You nodded, hiding your shock. Giving them an awkward wave, you ran towards Cabin 11, glad to have finally escaped that extremely personal discussion. 

Even worse, it wasn’t really the topic of conversation that bothered you. 

It was the fact that it had planted a thought inside of your head:

you and Luke really would be a great couple.

________________________________________________

It was another sleepless night. 

You’d tossed and turned for hours before giving up. You simply couldn’t get your body to relax. There was far too much on your mind.

Even worse, the main subject of your thoughts was sleeping just a few feet away from you. 

You rolled over on your mattress to face Luke’s bunk, which was right next to yours. He was partially covered by his blankets, but you could still make out the old, torn camp t-shirt he slept in. His eyelashes fluttered sporadically, and his breathing was slow and steady. 

He looked calm, at ease. The sight made you smile.

If anyone deserved peace of mind, it was Luke.

You moved back into your back, closing your eyes once more. Maybe, if you tried really hard to clear your mind of any Luke-related thoughts, you could achieve a few decent hours of rest. 

Sure enough, drowsiness began to set in. Pulling your dark grey fleece blanket tighter around you, you prepared to enter Hypnos’s realm. 

But just as you felt yourself begin to drift off, someone whimpered beside you. 

Your eyes snapping open, you turned to face Luke, squinting in order to see him in the dim moonlight. 

He was clutching his sheets, his breathing had become heavy and frantic, and he was murmuring in an obviously panicked tone.

“Thalia, no! No, please don’t go, I can’t lose you again, let me die instead!” 

He was having a nightmare about the fateful night that he, Thalia, and Annabeth had arrived at camp. 

You knew how much he had cared for Thalia. They’d spent quite a bit of time on the run together, and developed a fiercely tight bond. He’d confessed that he’d started crushing on her at some point, but that never went anywhere because of her unfortunate demise. 

You felt like Khione herself had frozen you to your mattress. You wanted to wake him up and free him from his night terrors, but you also weren’t sure if you could properly comfort him. 

Still, you had to at least try. He needed to know he wasn’t alone.

As quietly as possible, you got out of bed and crept over to his mattress. You gently pulled the covers off of Luke, and gently shook him by the shoulders a few times.

Luke jolted awake, grasping his sheets tightly. Your heart tightened painfully when you saw the tears welling up in his eyes. 

“Oh, Luke…” you trailed off, not knowing what to say. 

“Angel,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. “You okay?”

“You were having a nightmare. About the night you arrived at camp.”

Luke sat up slowly, hastily wiping away the tears that had begun to run down his cheeks. “Yeah…yeah, I remember now. Gods, it was horrible. I saw her get overpowered and injured by the monsters all over again. It was like everything was in slow-motion just to torture me.” 

You placed a hand on his forearm, rubbing soothing circles on his clammy skin with your thumb. “You’re okay, Luke. It was just a dream.”

“About a very real thing,” he added. “Thalia died because of me. I didn’t do enough to protect her.” 

Instinctively, you pulled Luke into a hug when he began to cry again. You ran a hand through his curls softly, hoping it would calm him down somehow. 

“Don’t blame yourself,” you said. “Blame the Fates. Blame Hades for sending the monsters. Blame all of the fucking gods. They have failed at properly protecting their children. You did everything you could’ve done. You got Annabeth to safety, and Thalia met a hero’s fate. Her memory will live on, as her presence strengthens the border that shields us from the mortal world.” 

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. You sat there for what seemed like millennia, letting him cry against your shoulder.

Finally, he stopped trembling, and pulled away slightly. “You’re right,” he whispered. “I know it isn’t my fault, it’s the gods’ fault. I just…I just miss her. She was so funny, such a good fighter, and an incredibly loyal friend. She deserved so much better. You would’ve really liked her, I know it.”

You gave him a soft smile. “I’m sure.” 

“Thanks for waking me up,” he said, taking your hands in his. “I really appreciate it. Gods, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

“Me neither,” you admitted.

Luke yawned, removing his hands from yours to rub his eyes. “I think I’m gonna try to go back to sleep. You should get some rest, too. We have archery practice in the morning.” 

You smirked, and his eyebrows furrowed. “I know that look. You’re planning something.”

You can’t help but smile. “You know me so well. I’m thinking that we should sneak out of camp tomorrow. We can take a day trip, just the two or us.”

Luke grinned. “That sounds amazing.” 

“Great, we’ll leave first thing in the morning.” You pivoted to climb off of the bed, but stopped when he said,

“Wait…please, stay.”

And that was how you ended up sharing a bed with Luke Castellan for the first time. 

taglist: @orionspaperwork, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @marvelescvpe, @lovingjasontoddmakemewanttocry, @louweasleymalfoy, @stars4birdie, @stargurl-battleship, @daughterofthemoons-stuff

Thank you for reading! Pls let me know what you think in the comments!!!

Also, I was scrolling thru the Luke Castellan tag and noticed someone requested a fic with daughter of thanatos!reader who also had wings. It’s probably a coincidence so it’s not a big deal, I just wanted to say pls don’t plagiarize or take ideas without giving credit (only if it isn’t an original idea ofc)

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added to the taglist!

[luigiblood]

An interesting view of Retro NSO Patents

So a bunch of patents from Nintendo recently got published and got my attention: They are related to the retro Nintendo Switch Online service and how it works and it brings a bit of an interesting view of it, with features that are DEFINITELY not inside the apps as of now.

As I went through them, I decided to also go back a little bit to earlier ones.

Just in case, for every reader:

At no point this describes the future of NSO! Let that be clear!!

Unlike most people who reports on patents, I actually will LINK the original patents.

US11003312B2 - NSO User Interface

You can find this patent here: https://patents.google.com/patent/US11003312B2/en

This seems to be among the earliest ones, it's from 2018, right before the launch of NES NSO that happened in September 2018.

This is an exact description of how the NSO UI works, where each image (or box arts, as they are usually used) are scaled roughly equivalent to each row so it always fits perfectly.

They had planned initially for details to be basically on the box art, thankfully they changed that completely for a full window in the final version.

They also had Special versions / Extra versions also nailed down already at that time, which are just games with preloaded save states, which the patent does explain. And the whole NEW thing where a new game is packaged like a gift and you just open them as you select them, that's already in the final app as well.

But here's something cursed:

This is a full vertical version of the user interface, which we've never seen so far.

US20240165505A1 - GB/GBA Multiplayer

This patent can be found here: https://patents.google.com/patent/US20240165505A1/en

This existed since late 2022 in Japan, but got a US version the next year, then published this year.

This patent explains how multiplayer works for GB and GBA NSO, as in emulating multiplayer between different linked systems, whether through LAN or online.

It gets complicated to read, but it's really about different ways to handle emulation of multiplayer, from one way where each player run their own emulator on their systems, to what I believe to be actually used: Running up to 4 emulators on each player's systems at the same time and keeping them synchronized through each player's input, but only display one of them corresponding to each player.

I believe this last way is used because all data sent through link cable is expected to be instant, you cannot delay this data, because this is asking for constant lag, but emulating all consoles on each player's system does solve this problem.

There also some quick algorithms in there about how to handle connections, disconnections and so on, but at this point it's not too interesting to explain because it works just like the apps.

US20240181342A1 - NSO User Interface (Save System)

This patent can be found here: https://patents.google.com/patent/US20240181342A1/en

It's dated just like the previous one, actually.

It might sound like the first one, but this one is more than meets the eye. Some articles talked about this as like, new Switch OS UI which is just bullshit (hi GameRant), or as GameCube NSO (wtf are you smoking to think of that straight up), but this one is actually about saves!

This image is actually having the main game on the left side, and everything to its right are all save states! You can see 2 saves for the first game, and 5 saves for the second game, it even has two rows for a single game which never happens on NSO apps. Of course, each save are just essentially having a screenshot of when the save state was taken at that moment.

This can very well be an alternative way of things, as I think this looks quite a bit cumbersome in how much space it uses.

But what's interesting is the Auto Save feature, which is not a feature of retro NSO currently. It is explained that the auto save can be enabled or not, and can happen anytime, including within a repeated time interval. This would be very nice in case of crashes.

And then, the elephant in the room: Yes, this looks like you could do more than 4 saves, with a peek of the suspension menu with a way to scroll through saves, the first option being to create a new save, without necessarily having to choose a numbered save state ID.

US20240173627A1 - Mission Play Mode

This patent can be found here: https://patents.google.com/patent/US20240173627A1/en

Now, this one is really sad because this shows an actual mission mode for retro NSO apps with objectives and rewards!

This has a new mode included called Mission Play, and you are provided with a mission that you can enter.

In this case it's about hitting enemies, keeping a count for a mission, but also even keeping a count of every single player in a region, and then the world!

This is really cool! I really think they should be doing this, but it seems Nintendo World Championships: NES Edition might do it instead.

That said, this being planned for retro NSO systems is definitely not entirely news for me, because I had noticed a long time ago that the SNES NSO emulator definitely kept track of specific game information as you play, it wasn't necessarily sent anywhere, but they were thinking about it, for several SNES games.

Funnily enough, these are real examples of detections for Super Mario Advance 2 specifically. This is pretty much how the memory and code looks like for the game.

I want to insist though: These are patents, these are for ideas, so this patent might have been publicly published because of Nintendo World Championships: NES Edition, but through experience, most of the time, as much as they describe stuff for illustrative purposes, it is usually describe a real example that was in development at one point or another.

Again, though: At no point this describes the future of NSO! Let that be clear!

But it gives us a view of what Nintendo and NERD had in mind for development. And, at least, I actually give links unlike a few who loves to tease bullshit through those.

[ferrstappen]

same anon here with the birth of the twins ask i sent earlier lmao i meant born first. which twin was born first, not early. sorry im sleep deprived and english is not englishing at the moment 😭

hello honey! I totally understand you and THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS QUESTION honestly I love mila and Luca. and also to the anon who requested pregnancy bits I'm on it, I just want to do it justice and not rush it :(

Honestly I hadn't put many thought on that, but I've really been thinking about it bc yes, when I saw the question I said Mila 100% is the oldest twin and Luca the youngest, but...

the day the twins were born l MV1

when I picture the labour, everything going smoothly, caesarean being planned months ahead for Max to be 100% available and no one could bother him or put something on the calendar.

Max would beholding your hand and whispering sweet nothings, how brave you were even when you assured him you weren't feeling anything, but he'd be keeping his eye not only on your health but making his presence known; the least he could do was make sure the best nurses, midwives, doctors and medical personnel in general were the best to take care of you and bring the very awaited Verstappen babies to the world. he'd side eye whenever the nurses and midwives made a comment about their lunch or something banal, because the only thing they were allowed to think and speak was his wife laying on the table and being prepared for the babies to be in perfect conditions.

and the only thing they'd said was yes Mr. Verstappen, yes Mrs. Verstappen.

as the time of the procedure approached he'd sit next to you, his head resting next to yours and his both his hands holding your belly, taking deep breaths, trying to communicate the twins they'd be together soon, and taking in the image of your swollen belly for the last time.

of course you'd giggle when he entered the operation room with sterile clothing, but finding comfort in his blue eyes being visible, long and defined lower lashes caressing his skin, his thumb running through your cheeks and forehead, and the strong grip of his hand were the only thing you tried to focus on as you could feel your body being manipulated.

the first scream was loud, but not as loud as you'd imagine, it was received as if the baby was annoyed of being disrupted and having to use his own lungs to breathe.

"a nice cry for this baby boy," the doctor would announce, handing him to the pediatrician to check him before wraping him in a warm towel and placing him on Max's arm, a nurse encouraging him to place the baby next to your face due to the arms being restricted.

you'd cry at the sight of him, heart immediately growing a million times bigger and it wasn't an exaggeration; the way his eyes were squeezed together, hands closed tightly, quiet sounds leaving his lips, everything stopped for you for those seconds.

and Max felt the same, his heart beating a thousand beats per minute when his arms felt the weight of his son, seeing his features, his small nose. but he wasn't relaxed or relieved in any way, knowing your body still had to endure being delivered the baby girl. he was told it was safe to leave the baby next to your face, which he did and went back to keeping an eye on what was going on on the other side of the medical sheet covering from your neck down.

he knew there was a reason why he couldn't feel relief and it wasn't just because he always worried and needed things to be right, and his gut was proven right when baby number two was delivered, but there wasn't a loud scream or annoyed cries, it was silent. a nurse immediately grabbed the baby boy (he still didn't have a name, you had a top 3 list where you'd choose after they were born) from your side, putting him on a crib, at the same time the pediatrics team grabbed the baby girl and placed her on a crib that looked a bit more complicated, more tubes and stuff surrounding it.

"max, what's happening?" you asked your husband, knowing you should've heard your baby girl by now.

"I don't know, but don't worry, schat. they're working on her,"

it was the first time he felt the desperation of being a father: worried, helpless, desperate, so many feelings and none of them were good as he approached where his daughter was being moved around, nurses carefully massaging her feet, multiple warm towels under her, a weird thing being placed on her nostrils.

those were the worst fifty seconds of his life. until he heard the loudest scream he'd ever heard, not even comparable to the one that marked the birth of his brother. it was loud, fierce, almost desperate.

it was his daughter and he instantly knew no one would even think of hurting her, and he also knew his son was a born protector, the first born, he'd able to overcome anything.

martin? levi? lucas? max stared at his son staring at him from his left arm, not so sure.

zoe? sofie? camila? max looked down at his sleeping daughter on his right arm.

maybe he'd have to wait until you woke up from all the medication, you'd probably know.

---------------------

I got carried away im sorry, I hope it still answers your question though :(

[xiaosonlybeloved]

Strategic Retreat- Gorou

featuring:- Gorou, fem!reader, Yae Miko tags:- fluff, not proofread, teasing a/n:- @i23kazu here's my piece for my bias gorou <3 wc:-717 words

“So this is the Grand Narukami Shrine, huh? First time I’ve been to this place.” Gorou remarked lightly, eyes alert and on the lookout for their ‘enemy’. You chuckled, squeezing his hand in yours. “Relax, Gorou. It’ll be fine.” He nodded determinedly as one of the Shrine maidens approached the two of you with a polite smile, asking if you wished to draw any fortune slips. You could easily see that your lover was intrigued by the idea by the spark in his eyes, so you answered a “Yes, of course.” on his behalf. Honestly, it was so adorable to see one of his cute ears flick, his fluffy tail wagging, and a smile tugged at your face.

Alas, that excitement faded away quickly. “H-Huh? Great Misfortune? Is this a sign of things to come?” He exclaimed, upset, ears drooping. You hugged him to calm him down, talking about how this could be a potential ‘sabotage’ by Yae Miko to make their great plan ‘fail’. Gorou seemed to be convinced by your reassuring words easily, or perhaps he just trusted you that much. “Well, her plan won’t work! I will certainly not be intimidated by her!” 

As you headed further into the shrine, you affirmed that both of you were in this together, holding his hand for additional support, at which he flashed you a grateful smile, saying “Let’s do this.” And soon, lo and behold, your ‘enemy’ was in front of you at long last for the much awaited ‘battle’ confrontation. “Oh? Did you run into some trouble? You’re later than I expected. You’ve made me wait a while.” Yae remarked, a knowing smirk on her lips as she pretended to be thinking. 

Gorou gritted his teeth. He defensively said, “Hmph, even if you did know we were coming, this makes no difference. We won’t get caught off guard! We’re here to-” Yae interrupted him mid-sentence. “Heh, slow down, let me have a guess.” She chuckled, and it sent shivers down your spine-whatever she was planning, it was terrible.

“Perhaps, like all the other pairs who come to see me at the shrine, you too wish to know if the future of the two of you includes a lifetime together? I wouldn’t mind doing a special reading especially for you.” She grinned. “Huh?” Gorou blurted out at the same time as you. “A… lifetime together?” You asked, eyes wide and startled. Again, Yae smirked at you as she hummed, “Now that I think, you could even leave all your fur-grooming to your little friend here…Imagine… Just imagine her holding your tail in one hand, while brushing it with the other… ” She left the question open, and you shuddered, images already flashing through your mind’s eye, which you hurriedly tried to shoo away. Gorou also seemed to be doing the same thing, a faint red coating the tips of his ears and nose. 

“We’ll have to try another method.” Gorou whispered to you, as you nodded furiously, a similar light red coating your own cheeks. Unfortunately, before he could even begin speaking, Yae spoke up, on her way to create more chaos. She snickered a bit as she said, “By the way, there’s no point trying to hide it, you know? What with your tail swishing behind you, your attempt at a stony face holds no ground.” On hearing this, Gorou’s ears drooped down immediately. Although the both of you were still quite flustered, you couldn’t deny that it was still very adorable to see this. 

Yae continued, “Although, you know, those soft, pointy ears of yours are as fascinating too. Imagine-” “Please, no more!” You exclaimed, interrupting her. Gorou finally spoke up again. “I suppose… i’ll have to use my final trump card… I think, the real reason you know me so well is because youre just like me! Just like me, you hug your tail while sleeping, and dream of someone grooming your tail!” You winced. That must have seriously hurt his pride, you thought, looking at his determined expression. 

“Wow, what a strong confession you made in an attempt to bring me down. But you see,” She turned around with a grin, “I have no tail.”

You and Gorou ended up running out of the shrine at top speed to escape this devil, hands still interlinked.

[late-to-the-party-81]

Whatever you need

AN: Thank you to the anons who sent me asks about the boys looking after Cali when she’s having her period. I didn’t follow the suggestions to the letter, but hopefully you will still enjoy this fluff tinged with a small amount of smut.

Beta’d by @lfnr-blog-blog-blog

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and moodboard by me

Master list | Series Master list

Relationship: Engineer Bucky x Reader (Cali) x Artist Steve

Word Count: 1.2k

CW: Period fic, soft loving boyfriends, clothed thigh-riding/soft smut, lots of kissing, soft dirty talk - kinda.

You didn’t know why you were so surprised by your boys being so in tune with your body, but every month - or rather every 31-33 days - you were still taken offguard.

Initially you thought it would be difficult for the two men to understand the waxing and waning of your menstrual cycle, previous partners having never cared, but they’d proved you wrong. 

“Darlin’ we know how to take you apart with the merest touch, what makes you think we don’t know what’s going on down there and how it all works?”

You lay on your side on the bed, Bucky pressed up behind you with his large warm hands splayed across your cramping abdomen. He’d found you here, in your baggy sweats and vest, not needing to ask what was the matter when a wave of pain made your features twist in discomfort. He’d just whipped out his phone, called Steve to tell him to bring home snacks and supplies, and then snuggled up behind you.

“Well, to be honest most men are either ignorant and/or don’t care.”

“And those guys are bozos. How can they not want to understand? If they have menstruating people in their lives who they love and care for, understanding it just makes sense.”

His right arm was moving, drawing slow circles on your stomach, soothing your aching body.

“I remember talking to my doctor once, about my periods. Before I’d even started he asked if they were still regularly every 28 days. Part of me wanted to tell him that I was the fricking moon, and that not all women are like that. When even health professionals can’t get it right…”

You trailed off. Sure, your guys knew a lot, but you would admit you hadn’t plumbed the depths of their knowledge on the subject.

“I know, sweetheart. I got three sisters. I know more than I ever thought I would. 17 year old me got my eyes opened wide the first month all three of them and Ma synched. My pa just came home, dumped a load of candy on the table and told Ma that he and I were going out for boys' night.”

You giggled at the mental image of young Bucky, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights, not knowing what to say in the face of a multiple progesterone crash.

“‘N by extension, Stevie knew all about it cos he was always hanging out at mine when his ma had to work nights.”

You turned your head to look over your shoulder at him. His misty grey eyes looked back at you and his cheeks and chin was covered by a short layer of hair. Fuck, he looked delicious. You needed to distract yourself.

“So, here’s a test for you. Why are there different sizes of tampons?”

“Easy- different flow rates.”

“How often does a woman need to change her tampon?” 

“About every 6 hours. Don’t leave it in for more than 8. Come on, give me a hard one here!”

You pondered for a moment.

“When does a woman grow her eggs.”

“Grow them? When she’s still in utero. Which means when your mom was pregnant with you, there were three generations in the same body. But your ovaries take turns maturing one each month.”

It was a bit awkward to press a kiss to his lips, but you didn’t care.

“My, you are clever.”

He smiled against your lips.

“I know…”

His lips roved gently over yours as his hand continued to stroke your stomach, slowly but surely stoking a fire within you. So much for distracting yourself. You always got horny on your period, your jumbled hormones doing a number on you, but you always felt a bit ‘wrong’ doing anything about it.

Reluctantly you pulled your lips away from Bucky’s, giggling as you felt his erection nudging your ass.

“Need me to help you out with that?” 

Bucky turned you in his arms so he could look you in the face, brushing his nose against yours and cupping your face.

Let’s just focus on you, darlin’. Orgasms are good for cramps.”  His voice was a purr, his lips brushing over yours before he sucked your lower lip into his mouth and ran his tongue over it. You pulled away with a laugh and smacked at his chest, but your doubts were crumbling.

“Bucky! You’re such a horn-dog!”

He chuckled and pulled you closer, slotting one of his thick thighs between your legs.

“Can you blame me, when you and Stevie are so god-damn sexy.”

“You’re not too bad yourself…”

“Flattery will get you everywhere and everything you like.”

You nipped at his jaw and heard him drag in a sharp breath.

“Didn’t think I needed to flatter you.”

“Okay. You got me.”

“And you got me.”

He kissed you again, his hands slipping inside your sweats to knead your ass and gently move you up and down his thigh. Okay, now all your doubts were gone. Vanished. Poof. There was only Bucky and how good he was making you feel. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as you breathed soft whimpers into his mouth. 

Up here, in the top floor bedroom, you didn’t hear the front door open and close, but you did notice when the bed dipped behind you, and the smell of Steve’s cologne enveloped you.

His breath tickled your ear as his large hands, with their long, tapered fingers, slid up your vest and started to stroke over your sensitive breasts.

“Hey, baby. Bucky helping to soothe those pesky cramps? You nodded and let out a muffled mmm-hmm as Bucky continued to kiss you.

“Well, just enjoy it, Cali. Let us make you feel better.”

Steve’s thumbs brushed gently back and forth over your nipples and you gasped, throwing your head back. His mouth latched onto the side of your neck, while Bucky shifted to your collarbone, his hands still on your ass, rocking you.

You could feel the pleasure building in you as the friction across your clit sent shockwaves through your core, coupled with the gentle teasing of your breasts. You closed your eyes and just let yourself drift away on the rising tide, small whimpers and moans making their way past your lips

“Just let go, darlin’. That’s it.”

“So beautiful, baby.”

You were surrounded by your boys, being loved and cared for. You couldn’t believe how lucky you were.

Finally, you crested, a soft ecstasy filling your pores and surrounding you like a fuzzy blanket. Steve and Bucky continued to kiss you and pet you until you slowly relaxed into the mattress. When Bucky pulled away from you, leaving the bed, after a quick readjustment of his pants, you let out a little whine, not really to be dragged from your comfortable, warm spot, but Steve just wrapped his arms around you, a mirror of how you’d been lying with Bucky only 30 minutes ago.

“Ssshhh, Cali. He’s just gone to run you a bath. And you're gonna have candles, and wine, and candy and that relaxing music that you like. Sound good?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nothing’s too good for you, sweetheart. I hope you know that. Now, you rest here, and have a little snooze, and I’ll wake you up when your bath’s ready.”

“Okay, Stevie.”

You drifted off, with a smile on your face and warmth in your heart.

Tag list: @jobean12-blog @tuiccim @yarnforbrains @sidepartskinnyjeans @flordeamatista @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @writing-for-marvel

[numbuh-7-knd]

Random Naruto AU musings/fanfic ideas incoming:

OK so, I was listening to Naruto theme songs in my room via speaker to drown out the sounds of my mother/housemate having a private appointment downstairs via zoom. (As you do)

And I started to think of how Asuma's death kind of represented a turning point where the konaha 12 are not kids anymore, things are getting serious, main ensemble members are drying, ect.

And I thought, the other thing like that in the original series was the death of the third homage. Exept even that didn't hit as hard because he was old and stuff. Then I realized one big opportunity lost with his death: the person was likely to maybe someday tell Naruto the truth of his parents, especially since he's the one who made it classified in the first place.

Here's where the AU comes in: I was trying to think of scenarios in which the third would have allowed Naruto to know about his parents during the time before the thirds death, and had a thought: there's a bunch of fics out there of Wave having some connection to hidden Whirlpool village, Uzushio, either neighbors or even that they were protected by/allied with Uzushio before the village destruction.

So what if, during the wave arc, Tazuna and the other villagers reacted when they heard Naruto's last name, being overjoyed to hear that at least one Uzumaki survived. Being hush hush about it because they don't want Gato to know because having an Uzumaki present threatens his standing.

Eventually they get Naruto alone with some of the older villagers who express their relief and exitment that there are still surviving Uzumaki after the destruction of Uzushio.

Naruto is so confused, poor kid. These old people are almost acting like he's some long lost relative or something, something about his last name, the destruction of some place called Uzushio? And what's this about asking about his family? Are all these old people senile and mistaking him for someone else?

The villagers confirm his last name is Uzumaki, and that they are talking about his clans home village of Uzushio, which was destroyed during the last war. What do you mean you've never heard of it? Is your ancestral homeland surely your parents would have mentioned it.

And then they learn that he's an orphan left all alone in the world, nothing of his family save his name and the symbol on his back. He tries so suggest that maybe he's not related to those Uzumaki, only to be rebuffed by a team of geriatrics, each pointing out some innocuous feature they swear is an Uzumaki trait, from his speech pattern and large amount of Chakra, to his ears and his chin.

By the end a group of Wave villagers old enough to remember Uzushio in its prime have mentally adopted Naruto and started telling him stories of Uzushio and the Uzumaki Clan, even trying to determine who he might be related to.

Eventually an old woman remembers a friend of hers, who's daughter was sent away to Konoha years before the attack, to be a Konoha ninja. they figure that must have been his mother, and naruto puts together that he was born around the same time as the nine tails attack of the village and they come to the conclusion that his mother probably died in the attack, weakened from childbirth, maybe even dying to protect her baby, and that he must not have had a dad in the picture for him not to be claimed afterwards.

Maybe they even introduce him to a village elder who's actually an Uzumaki and married into Wave decades ago, even long before the attack, and as she took her husband's name and wasn't a ninja, no one caught on. Maybe it Turns out to be his great aunt or something.

I'm imaging the bridge being named something representing the return of the Uzumaki clan.

Also, when the missions over and is time to return to Konoha, the entire village of Wave tries to fight for custody, especially his Great Aunt, who insists on accompanying them back to Konoha to interrogate the Hokage as to her grand nephew's treatment.

Maybe his newly found great aunt or distant cousin decides to move to Konoha, maybe with a bunch of her kids and grandkids giving Naruto a bunch of cousins. Or maybe he just gains a single elderly Uzumaki refugee from Wave.

I feel like Sasuke would be pretty mad/offended on narutos behalf over having the knowledge of his family hidden from him, since at least Sasuke has his memories and his clans belongings.

It'd be pretty funny if however many Uzumakis end up in the village, they all more or less adopt Sasuke as well as Naruto.

[meyhew]

I never said genocide was a "little thing" or that I was okay with it and support it. What I have been trying to say that I'm against antisemitism, also that there a lot of celebrities who are Jewish, Gal Gadot being one of them. And you realize that it's mandatory for anyone who's from Israel to serve time in the IDF, right? So obviously, Gal had no choice in the matter, there was nothing she could do about that. But even so, how can you or anyone else possibly think that kidnapping, torturing, maiming, sexual assault, rape, and murder is any way, shape, or form okay? Those things aren't and never will be acceptable, and I will never justify or support such actions.

u are blocked for a reason yet u keep coming back to make a fool of yourself. but i have a habit of proves bitches wrong so lets have it

the last ask u sent me said, "...life's just too precious to cancel everyone over every little thing and to pass up watching good content just it features a celebrate that did something I didn't approve of" in which the words "little thing" refer to these celebrities' support of israel. which is at best complacency with genocide and at worst unequivocal support of it.

you wanna talk to me about gal gaot? about having "no choice in the matter"? that's the same rhetoric soldiers used in nazi germany when they were helping exterminate jewish people. it's the same rhetoric american soldiers used when they were bombing people in iraq and afghanistan and when they were torturing innocent civilians in abu ghraib. everyone always has a fucking choice. whether or not they make the right one depends on the person because even a select few in israel have refused to join the idf. sure they faced some jail time and whatnot but at least their conscience is clear that they haven't participated in actively killing palestinians. and just for argument's sake say that gal gadot would've been killed had she not served. she doesn't have to be fond of the idf now. she doesn't have to praise the idf now. i've seen accounts of many former idf soldiers condemning what that military does because they now recognize it's morally abhorrent. what's stopping gal gadot from condemning the idf for dropping white phosphorous on palestinians and testing new chemical weapons on them?

and as far as the "kidnapping, torturing, maiming, sexual assault, rape, and murder" is considered... all of that is happening, yes, and has been happening for decades but to palestinians. until you can provide actual evidence that this has been happening to israelis, i will not believe you and i will not care about it. because all israel and its citizens have done is fucking lie and lie and lie about their experiences, whereas everything the palestinians have endures has been documented by them. you want to talk about the kidnapping and torture? let's talk about the thousands of palestinians that are in israeli captivity for the crime of existing. countless palestinians who die in captivity because israel won't let them have any defense. you want to talk about maiming? i can pull up far too many photos of children that have been dismembered and disfigured because of israeli airstrikes. images that will never leave me. you want to talk about sexual assault and rape? we can talk about the many instances of israeli forces raping palestinian women. you want to talk about fucking murder? if the thousands dying every day isn't enough let's talk about what happened yesterday. let's talk about israeli targeting and killing the family of al jazeera bureau chief, after the US warned the network to tone down its coverage of what's happening. which is sort of similar to what the US did to tareq ayyoub during the iraq invasion. same fucking playbook.

every single deplorable action you try to pin on palestinians will point only at israel. you only have these things to talk about because israel has committed these atrocities. you have no proof that palestinians—hell it's not even palestinians as a whole or even their "government." it's hamas—have done anything you claim. you have no proof. the hostages that were released proved you wrong. why else did israel not want them speaking publicly? every single hostage that has been released by hamas has said the same thing: they were treated with respect and all their basic needs were cared for. meanwhile you have israeli officials going on record promising to flatten gaza into a graveyard. go fuck yourself

[ramshacklestar]

A scene captured, over and over with a mix of smiling or confused faces one even featuring Riddle with his cheeks puffed in clear annoyance. Some photos even featured the student in question reaching out towards the camera clearly trying to grab it from her before she could take the shot, but once the image was captured it was already too late unless they had destroyed the camera which didn't seem to be the answer they'd ever fallen to surprisingly. Crowley had asked her to take photos of the lives of her classmates upon finding the ghost camera and she certainly hadn't let him down in that department.

Photo after photo littering the small desk within Ramshackle, some with small borders at the tip of each corner giving it a more elegant look. If you had asked who it was Yuu had gotten pictures of the most her initial answer would obviously be Grim, but after him she really couldn't say. She had however been proud she was actually able to capture one singular photo of Malleus with the camera, it was prior to the fireworks show on a particularly clear night and he was actually smiling in the photo.

Even still one remained, one person who was a temporary resident of the school and this world never captured in the imagery because she was always the one behind the camera. She probably could have flipped it at any time and captured a picture of herself or even asked someone else to do it, but had she really deserved to be amongst the smiling happy faces of her classmates in a world where she was an enigma that had even confused the STYX facility staff? For that matter had she even wanted such a thing to exist? All she would remain in the end was a simple reminder, and she hadn't wanted to leave such a painful thing behind.

Eventually they'd forget as everyone moved on with their lives and having a picture of her would only force them to remember and bring a new bought of pain. Questions of why did she leave? Why couldn't she stay? How could she be so cruel? And the idea that Ramshackle would again fall into ruin, abandoned by even the headmaster for a second time. It was too much for her to even think about at that moment, and made her question if returning home was something she'd really even wanted anymore. Her existence was only that of another person standing in the background in her world, but here she had a name and even if he was unbearable at times Crowley still made the effort to ensure she was included in nearly all the events that took place in this world cause she was the prefect and it was her apparent duty.

But wasn't it cruel too to just abandon her home world? What if someone was looking for her? People just vanishing out of existence wasn't a normal thing by any world's terms and she had so hoped to one day become a staff member of the very same orphanage she'd grown up in. Hoping that she in turn could fill the young with a sense of belonging and knowledge that just because they were sent there didn't mean the world hadn't cared.

Placing the camera atop the desk amongst the pictures Yuu quietly stared downwards at the clutter. It was bad to leave but it was also bad to stay, the familiar call of three of the people closest to her ringing from the front door however served as enough to make her tuck such thoughts into the back of her mind just to revisit them again when she had returned to that same desk.

"Yeah I hear you, I'm coming." She called in reply hand reaching for the camera before pausing and returning to her side. She turned on her heel leaving the pictures and camera behind shoes echoing across the flooring gradually moving further away from the memories.

[vixnovacoda]

Doctor's Medicine || Chapter 2

Hannibal Lecter x Original Character

Word Count: 3.5k

CW/TW: NSFW 18+, graphic, disturbing content, dissociation, canon-typical violence.

Summary: Amongst his list of patients, Doctor Hannibal Lecter finds an interesting character in his latest, Emma Darcy, the author of a bestselling crime series whose mind is host to something clawing to be free. The two become inexplicably drawn to each other and things progress as Emma encounters a world of death. But the question is, who will change who?

[Chapter 1]

[ao3 version here]

Familiar. Familiar can be dangerous. Comforting but dangerous when caught in its trappings for so long. There’s a sense akin to succumbing when it happens like a fox awaiting the hound's final bite on its jugular; no more running through life’s underbrush. Predator becomes prey, and the strands of time unravel till the point where beginning and end are intangible. But Emma was no prey. She could see her end with crystal clear eyes, and the instinct to survive kicked in; this version of herself yearned to live. Alas, along came work with that noose of familiarity, and Emma Darcy could not escape death.

  No matter how hard she believed she wanted to.

  Still, Emma would not become prey.

  Plastic pattered against her chest, the visitor’s badge unable to stay still. Emma hovered over the human jigsaw as she slid into a pair of gloves with a sharp elastic clap, and the air hung stale. Spread out now was the rest of the body, albeit partly solved. She had guessed right, which opened up the floor to worse things.

  “Thoughts?” asked Will Graham.

  She looked over at the fellow hidden in the back, his brown curls framing his head like that of a sheepdog – though she surmised he’d make a terrible sheepdog. But a terrific bloodhound. “You sure enjoy keeping your distance from the victim and not the killer,” stated Emma.

  “And you can’t keep away.” He stepped under the bright fluorescent lights, every concerned feature highlighted.

  “Curiosity.” She labelled it.

  “Curiosity killed the cat.”

  “Well, aren’t I lucky not to be a cat?” Briefly, their eyes met across the table, her lightheartedness against his hardened lids.

  Will turned away first, opting for the corpse between them. “This isn’t luck,” he said. She followed suit and saw as he did. There she laid. The very spitting image of herself dead and rendered into a thousand pieces. Each feature; the same as her profile, right down to the clustered brown marks on the left shoulder. “Even my birthmark,” muttered Emma through cold silence. “It’s a warning.”

  Caught on a scent, Will changed the subject. “Why did you ask to see the body first?”

  Although Emma was stuck in her own thoughts, edging her face closer to the body with narrowed scrutinisation. “Or admiration from a delusional fan, perhaps,” she mused, hushed.

  Gloved hands press against the table’s edge. “No one makes requests from Jack. He’s the boss,” he declared as he leant forward, trying to obtain a closer inspection of this woman’s mind. Emma might not fit the bill for the killer, though she certainly was something.

  “I’m not FBI.” She paused. The lights beamed brighter, making her nigh impossible to make out and, at the same time, entirely visible. “Isn’t that why he sent you down here?” Emma’s softened voice implied civility of the joking kind.

  The comment stunned him, and a sheepish grin formed at her attitude.

  “People’s opinions can colour our own. Not that I’m against them, I just needed the benefit of first impressions,” she said, face rising as she finally answered his question.

  That he understood. “Makes it easier to clear your head for the full picture.”

  “But sometimes, we need that wall to bounce off from,” Emma reasoned.

  At that moment, the picture became clear. The room expanded into a voidless nothing, and time meant nothing. Will realised the familiarity behind the scent he caught on to back at Darcy’s abode, which caused it to be picked up on so easily in the first place; desperation. Both of them wanted nothing more than for this to be over. They had to survive the world of death they waded in. “So, thoughts?” he asked once again.

  “From what I see, it matches up with the mutilation seen in the Enigma of the Flesh , which draws on a real case I worked on back home. Things like the choice of a white female for the victim, right down to the ribbon colour, are the same, and, yet discrepancies show in matching the victim to the receiver of the package and sending separate halves,” she pointed out. “Whoever this is, he likes details and not book accuracy.” Evidence strewed about within her head. She inferred, “it’s his interpretation. His story.”

  “Starring you as the major character.” The image was no less clear for Will. “He’s asking us to read his work,” he figured.

  “Asking or demanding?”

  “Demanding? No. Demanding is too aggressive. Our guy isn’t like that.”

  Emma’s brow sunk, calculating.

  “He’s careful and considerate. He picked his prey wisely, killed quickly and mercifully, skinned with precision and froze the pieces to preserve them before sending separate packages. All without a single trace. Asking requires delicacy, and he’s done just that.” He understood in a way she could not perceive.

  She tried to match their minds as best she could, to see as he did. “Then, a fan with steady hands and too much time. Could even be looking at a stalker or an intelligent psychopath who knows me,” surmised Emma.

  “Maybe he’s all three.” Will stiffened his spine. A shadow cascaded over her. “He thinks he understands you. That you are the puzzle he solved,” he added. 

  The hairs on her neck stood on end as she glanced. The hound – for how brief she glimpsed – took Will’s place. Fog fur and teeth. Jaw unlatched, ready to catch. 

  Then. Nothing; gone in an instant.

  Emma’s chest grew heavy; the figment of her creation had slipped from its flesh gate, and she barely noticed. Being around Will reminded her of that self-fear. To see him was to see herself reflected. And in his eyes, he saw a fragment in her. 

  Both were truly afraid for their sanity. It tainted their desperation. A desperation, now, so bad they weren’t themselves, just prey wearing a predator’s skin.

  “Care to share with the rest of the group, you two?” spoke the head of Behavioural Sciences, Jack Crawford, announcing the presence of himself and the others behind him.

  Will recoiled, constricting his hands under his arms.

  “You get a good look?”

  “Y… Yes,” she exhaled, blinking rapidly. Out the corner of her eye, a suited figure came into view. Dressed in muted browns, Hannibal studied the room, and already, with barely another step, he felt the shift which surrounded Will and Emma. She couldn’t look at Will, not slightly or generally. Not at all. 

  The space extrapolated in density.

  The psychiatrist planted himself beside her. A reminder that he was there. Her grip on the table evaporated; stark white knuckles returned to their natural colour. Hannibal’s presence acted as a steady tree to relax against (though she opted otherwise). She breathed with ease, taking one last deep breath before she turned toward the team of white lab coats, who situated themselves within the room. “Let's make this short,” said Agent Crawford, “you’ve already met myself, Dr. Lecter and Will. The rest are Price, Zeller, Katz and Fowl.” 

  Each agent either jolted their head, showed their palm, or smiled at the call of their name – Katz and Fowl being the most friendly pair. “So, you’re the new consultant,” said the black-haired woman, Beverly Katz. “Fowl here hasn’t stopped talking about your books.” She jabbed the blonde-haired man on her left.

  “They’re good books,” Fowl defended, “they really are.”

  “He’s not wrong.’ Katz side-eyed Price. He raised his brow. ‘What? They’re bestsellers for a reason. Public opinion agrees with him… and I may or may not be fifty per cent through the copy he lent us.”

  Emma smiled. “Well, I’m glad you like my work.” At least someone appreciated her sadistic brain.

  Ahem . A forced cough from Crawford garnered their attention. “According to our previous discussion, Emma will be assisting with profiling and body analysis.”

  “An author has those qualifications?” Will’s head tilted.

  “The formative years of my youth were consumed by studying forensics,” responded Emma, who did not take being doubted lightly. “So, yes, I do.”

  “What branch?” queried Hannibal in turn.

  “Pathology.”

  “Her department advocated for her skills,” spoke Jack as he headed over to the corpse. “Now, what are we dealing with?”

  Zeller answered, “a ghost. Jane Doe shows no signs of struggle. No obvious cause of death. No traces. Nothing.”

  “Here we go again. Ghosts aren’t real,” stated Price with a scoff.

  “Neither are fictional stories,” retorted Zeller.

  The bickering earned a sigh from Katz. “All we’ve found so far are carpet fibres from the pieces sent to Emma.” She handed over a slim file to Emma, who took to reading it with Dr. Lecter over her shoulder as Katz carried on, “carpets can hide all sorts of things. This one just had dirt, which we traced both the fibre and dirt back to the house where we found it.”

  Emma could only wince at her mistake. “Sorry.” Hushed. Quick.

  Leaping into action for his turn, Thomas grabbed a pair of forceps and went to peel away at the constructed head. “As for the cause of death, due to the marks inside her skull, we believe she was lobotomised.” He pointed a lofty finger towards a single bone piece. “See? Barely visible punctures to coincide with the whole clean theme,” he added.

  Lobotomies demanded a specific toolset when operated correctly. The mallet swing often matched the small nature of the instrument: a single, meticulous strike. To succeed, to pierce the bone and to hit exactly required surgical precision. Emma peered up from the file. “Every incision, every piece, is the same length with the same thickness and tool; a scalpel for flesh, muscle, tissue, and organs and a surgical oscillating saw for the bones.”

  “We’re looking for a surgeon, then?” pondered Thomas.

  “Not necessarily.” Will made contact with the ceiling, nose scrunching while he talked. “He’s done it before.”

  Silence stared at Will out of a hope he’d elaborate further.

  “A perfectionist. This ghost refuses to be seen. But if he must, it would be at his best,” offered Dr. Lecter, his voice the calmest of them all, that it cut through the tension.

  Clean . It spread everywhere. On the body. On the room. Even on the file. So far, there was practically nothing. Agent Crawford, frustrated, placed his hands on his hips. “He had to slip up somewhere.”

  “If there’s something he wanted us to know, he will let us see it in big, bold letters,” said Will. Letters that were admissible at first glance. Except, all this Ghost Writer gave them was one single thing: clean.

  The word rattled around Emma’s head, bouncing from evidence to evidence, flesh carving to flesh carving. It echoed and echoed as blood curdled and muscles tore. All which remained was that mutilated story and detail. 

Clean. Clean. Clean. So clean. Too Clean. Clean. Why clean? Why? Clean. Clean. Clean.  

———

“Emma?” A voice; accented.

  Her eyes fluttered open. The world: a blurred blob to her vision. Air tangled red locks. “I just needed some fresh air,” she replied absentmindedly. There couldn���t be much conversation. Emma needed to focus—

  Water splattered across her face.

  Rain. She didn’t recall going outside. She didn’t remember it being night either. Heels clicked, stopping along the pavement. The red outfit she bore had turned a dark crimson, soaked by the rain and sticking to her skin. 

  “Are you alright?” she looked to her left, landing her sights on the man who pulled his car over to her. The accent. The well-tailored attire. His fanciful taste. Emma recognised Dr. Lecter in a fluttered heartbeat. “I, um.” Scarlet flushed her cheeks in some cruel joke to cover her entirely in red. She raised a hand to her face, rubbing at the colour as she tore her gaze.

  Dr. Lecter leaned forward. “Lost in thought?”

  “No, just lost.” That was a truth she could admit. The street contained no one nor a building in sight that she knew. 

  “We are some miles away from the headquarters. I would not suggest walking back on your own,” he informed her. “How about I drive you to your car? Would that work with you, Emma?”

   “Isn’t this testing the border of our doctor-patient relationship?”

  His expression grew slack, and he kept a steady hold on her with his eyes. “As my patient, I have a duty to care about you. Your safety is important. Regardless of all else, it would be rude of me to ignore you in this weather.” On cue, the rain pelted harder. “Don’t allow me to be rude,” he said with a soft tone.

  A chill ran its course as her blue eyes met his dark wells. There had been a hidden depth contained within those eyes of his. The longer she looked, the more she became consumed and unable to argue. “There won’t be any issues if I agree?” she inquired meekly.

  “None at all,” he affirmed.

  The muted silence spoke volumes. Emma didn’t have to utter another word. 

  She simply nodded her agreement.

  With her answer in tow and before nerves could latch onto the passenger door handle, Hannibal left the midnight Bently. Short-paced strides encroached from behind as he slipped out from his fitted coat that swallowed her whole as it draped around her form. His hands brushed past her skin, a warm touch which seared the delicate, pale flesh. She heaved a deep inhale, breathing through the burn. Welcoming the heat, Emma wrapped herself in the coat and got into the car, Hannibal holding the door.

  The rainfall muffled, and she still could not breathe – never could she be inside such a cramped shared space. Being so close to Hannibal should not have been allowed.

  “We don’t have to discuss your mental state,’ he said, starting the engine. “This can simply be a conversation.” And the lengthy drive began.

  Emma pulled herself closer to the door. “What would we even talk about?” she asked.

  “Well, not everyone has the fortune to see their dead self.”

  “Hard to perceive this situation as fortunate.”

  “Others would disagree. A vision of death, such as yours, commonly represents transformation. Death allows for new beginnings in the living's wake. A chance to become what you are meant to be,” he explained, unmoving and unchanging. 

  “And, prey tell, what am I becoming?” she tilted her head.

  For this, he passed a countenance her way: calm as always. “That is up to you.” Hannibal had a remarkable talent for being unfazed. Nothing outwardly bothered him. Not even death or the droplets that ran lengths along his body. To live a life like that, Emma could only hope.

  It fascinated her how alike he was to the sun, a guiding light. He saw all. What version of her had he seen? She wondered. The savage beast or fallen prey? Like he could read her thoughts, Hannibal spoke. “It should be mentioned. I would not allow you to become something that hurt you. Today, nothing unordinary took place. You carried out your tasks and responded as you otherwise would.”

  “I appeared normal?”

  “You have my word.”

  She thinned her lips into a smile. “Thank you.” Tension erased from her shoulders and air reached starved lungs as she pondered the night sky. Moon high and clear. A yawn escaped her delicate mouth; exhaustion set in with heavy weights on her muscles. She reached up a hand to cover up. “Sorry, I must have travelled far.” Only now did her feet start to ache. “Please, don’t let me fall asleep,” she said, her speech drowning out as her eyelids threatened closure.

  Over the coming minutes, he would do no such thing. Moonlight dappled her innocent exterior, and darkness revealed what lurked beneath, ever and always present; a sight to behold. He could not rid himself of that monstrous beauty. Instead, Hannibal would savour the very thing no other being had the privilege of knowing.

  A fox under a blood moon.

  Red suited Emma.

———

Eventually, she’d arise regardless, with the Behavioural Sciences headquarters parking lot filling the windows. Hannibal tucked in his seat, motionless. Emma rubbed away the tiredness on her face as she sat up from her, albeit uncomfortable, comfortable, position. “I told you not to let me sleep,” she reminded Hannibal through stifled yawns.

  “Better to fall asleep here than at the wheel,” he argued.

  He had a point. He always did. “You’re not wrong,” Emma acquiesced, grabbing her bearings. There being no need to remain, she made a move to leave.

  “Emma,” Hannibal called. Hand out. “Forgetting something?”

  She pivoted, brows stitched together.

  A metallic sheen shone from his palm, rectangular; her phone. “You must have dropped it when you got in.” He passed it over and said, “Marcus Hall attempted to get hold of you multiple times. Calling you this late, you and your agent seem close.”

  “Nepotism favours the fool,” Emma joked, her voice wavering and unable to commit to the bit of alleviating the awkward air. “That sounded ridiculous. Um.” Nails picked at the phone’s edges as she straightened herself. “That is to say, he’s a close family friend. Marcus is practically my uncle. So he often worries a lot,” she clarified. Now she definitely wanted to leave, to save herself from further mortification in front of the man who was her psychiatrist. It did not help how neutral his face looked, either. “You didn’t answer it, did you?” she questioned.

  “No. I would not have violated your privacy like that.” Earnest bled forth.

  Opening the door, she put a foot outside. “Thank you, again, Dr. Lecter,” she said, exiting.

  He smiled at her. “Have a safe trip, Emma.”

  “You too.” She nodded before making her way to the single other car left behind.

  Under normal circumstances, one would have left there and then. But Hannibal watched every second of her right up to her leaving, bound for the road. Normal circumstances were a relative term in comparison to the man

  Doctor Hannibal Lecter was not human.

———

The hotel door shut. The curtains were drawn, and all light shunned. This quaint arrangement didn’t work for Emma, though she had no other choice, considering her original situation acted as a crime scene. Not bothering for electricity, she thumbed through her phone, eyeing the response-less message she sent that morning: 

  ‘Hi, Alex. Can we talk?’  

  Simple and succinct.

  Perhaps too simple.

  A second passed; still nothing. Her foot tapped on the floor. 

  She considered sending another, then thought better of the desperation it would reek with. Hope said it would happen, eventually. Practicality, on the other hand, said Alex blocked her number. Rightfully so, too.

  Sighing, Emma called Marcus back. He’d always answer, come early day or late night. It wasn’t until an instinctive urge for more warmth that she realised where the sensation came from; Dr. Lecter’s coat. She forgot to give it back. Most likely, he’d have others. Still, it felt off finding comfort from it while being his patient. Carefully hanging it up, Emma figured the best solution would be to return it as soon as possible and opted that a bath should fight the cold better.

  “Emma!” exclaimed the worrisome Marcus Hall.

  Phone against her ear. She flinched. “I’m alright, I’m alright,” she repeated, turning the bathtub tap.

  “You had me worried, god dammit.” Rushing water filled the silence Marcus took to exercise a bout of deep breaths. “How’d work go?” he said with calmness, tension sliding through his word.

  “It.” Clean . Jigsaw pieces obscured her vision, taunting her. “I can’t tell you much, but it has the makings of a great series finale.” She splashed the thought from view.

  “That’s great. How soon do you think we can expect the first draft?”

  A line crinkled across her forehead. “Marcus—”

  “I know. You’re taking your time. It’s just… you announced the finale last year, and the publishers haven’t received anything from you since.”

  “I have my reasons,’ said Emma. “It’ll get done. Don’t worry. Anyway. Have you heard anything from Alex?”

  “ Alexandra? ”—Alex despised her full name— “She stopped speaking with me when she quit.”

  “Not even a text?”

  “Nothing,” he swore. “She’s not the only editor out there, okay? We’ll find you another, as long as you finish that book first.”

  Emma held her hand limp in the scalding water and muttered defeatedly, “I know.”

  Marcus paused, taking in her tone. “ Is everything alright, Em?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.” She removed her numb hand as the water passed her elbow. “I just need to rest,” she finished, turning off the tap. He meant well, sure. There were just some things better left unsaid. To tell them would only scare off the last person she had left. “Have a nice sleep.”

  His reply faded from earshot with the press of a dial.

  Emma. A whisper, beckoning, calling.

  Hair fell out of place as she whipped her head around, meeting her reflection in the mirror on the wall. It stared. Speechless. Sure she heard something, Emma moved closer. The features of her face felt odd under the shadow. Darkness played with her vision, contorting, twisting parts. Goosebumps formed. Her breath forced a new rhythm, and she shut her eyes. 

  One second.

  Two.

  Then three and open again.

  The cadaver, eyeless and pieced together, stared back.

  Fist clenched, Emma punched the image. Mirror shattered. Glass cut. Blood dropped.

 She would not become prey.

[sennamybeloved]

your wish is my command....3, 38, & 50 for illaoi ^___^

WHOA that's a lot!! tysm!! i often write WAY too much for my own good, so i'm gonna try my hand at some shorter drabbles here n try to fit these all in 1 (reasonably sized) post.

also, this ask is MONTHS old. i wrote these immediately after you sent the ask, but i never posted them for some reason? anyway, here they are now :(

3 - morning/wake up call

She's awoken by the sun in her eyes and the feeling of lips grazing her temple.

She squints, forever reluctant to rise from a comfortable slumber, but the presence of another--of Illaoi--convinces her that this day is worth greeting.

So, she opens her eyes. Rays of sunshine pour through the curtains and sprawl across her face, singeing her retinas. With a soft groan, she rolls over onto her back, throwing up an arm to shield her gaze from the light.

She feels the bed shift under Illaoi's substantial weight as she moves closer to her. When her eyes squint open once more, Illaoi's face is mere inches from hers. Her features are wonderfully relaxed, her green eyes glistening like emeralds in the warm light. She gazes at Lalir with a gentle smile.

She looks like a painting, a true work of art; if Lalir could envision a human incarnation of the goddess, she would be sculpted in Illaoi's image.

"Good morning, ma’a taua."

Precious gem. Lalir smiles.

"Mhmm..." She brings a hand up to caress Illaoi's cheek. She watches her smile widen as she leans into the touch. "Good morning, darling."

She isn't sure who closes the distance first, but Lalir smiles into the first press of full lips against her own. Lalir's slender fingers card through Illaoi's curls. She clutches the back of her head, pulling her deeper, closer, as close as they can possibly be.

. . .

38 - reunited/’haven’t seen you in a while’

After a hundred-or-so years of living here, Lalir has grown to despise Bilgewater’s harbors.

They always smell of fish, sweat, and rot. The rudest of harpooners and wannabe swashbucklers shove their way through the crowds and glare daggers into whomever they bump into. And of course, if you don’t blend in well, which Lalir never has, you are bound to get robbed.

But despite all of this, Lalir finds herself standing on the docks, wringing her hands and twitching her tail as she anxiously awaits a very particular ship.

It feels like hours before she finally catches a glimpse of it pulling into the harbor. It’s the same one she watched Illaoi leave in, and is, hopefully, the one she will be arriving back in.

She watches it take anchor. She watches as people begin to flood off the ship. She’s nearly swept away by the crowd alongside everyone else on this dock.

Still, she waits and she watches, searching for Illaoi’s face amongst a hundred other faces. She stands on the very tips of her clawed toes, peering over the sea of people, hoping that she’ll spot her as the crowd dwindles out, but she doesn’t.

A pang of doubt pierces Lalir’s chest. What if this is the wrong ship? Then she’d look like a fool. What if Illaoi never made it to her ship? That would be terrible. What if, what if, what if…

“Lalir?”

The distinctive thick Buhru accent and commanding tone of voice fills Lalir’s ears like sweet music. She looks up, tufted ears drooping as locks eyes with Illaoi.

She grins, baring teeth. “Illaoi!”

Lalir bounds across the way, leaping right into Illaoi’s waiting arms. Illaoi squeezes her tight, so tight that it's almost painful, but she doesn't mind at all. She can barely fit her arms around the larger woman's body when she hugs her back She nuzzles her face into the center of her chest, breathes in her scent--sea salt and fresh jungle fruit--and her heart blossoms as she's brought back home.

They remain trapped in an embrace for a long, long time before they finally part, standing back just far enough to look each other in the eyes.

"I was starting to worry about you," Lalir says.

Illaoi laughs, warm and full. "Worry? About me? You must be mistaking me for someone else, itiiti!"

Lalir can't help but laugh as well. "No! I'm not! You know me, I just worry."

Illaoi hums a little. She brings a large hand up to caress Lalir's reddened face. She cradles her chin between a thumb and forefinger, lifting it to meet her gaze. Lalir smiles bashfully. They're both smiling.

Lalir stands up on the tips of her talons and Illaoi leans down to make their lips meet. They share a long, passionate kiss, and Lalir feels like the world is melting down to only them and the sea. When they're forced to break away for air, Lalir thinks she'd rather suffocate within Illaoi than ever breathe again.

. . .

50 - goodnight

Illaoi isn't a very quiet person. She's quiet when she's thinking, quiet when she's praying, but her love is never quiet.

It takes Lalir a moment to realize just how quiet things have become between the two of them. The entire room is blanketed in comfortable silence, the only sounds being that of a crackling fireplace and Illaoi's gentle breathing.

But the silence becomes uncomfortable when Lalir realizes how unusual it is.

She looks down at Illaoi, who's in the same position she was nearly half an hour ago- leaning against her shoulder, eyes shut and lips slightly parted.

She's asleep. Is she asleep? It's strange, but Lalir is typically the first one to fall asleep, as well as the last one to get up in the morning. She seldom sees Illaoi this relaxed, this vulnerable.

"Illaoi?" She mutters softly, and the woman's eyes flutter open. She glances up at her.

"Hm?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"I wasn't asleep," Illaoi grumbles, rubbing her eyes.

Lalir huffs. "You sure? You looked pretty asleep to me."

“I was just… resting my eyes.” Illaoi sits up, cautiously propping herself up against the pillows. Her eyes are dark and droopy, her curls an unkempt mess in front of her tired face.

Lalir takes a pause to admire her. She is always awake and alert, and getting the chance to behold her in any other state is quite rare. Her exhaustion is uncharacteristic and oddly beautiful.

“If you wanna sleep, you can.” Lalir places a reassuring hand on Illaoi’s bicep. Illaoi looks down at her, face softening when their eyes meet. She hums.

Wordlessly, Illaoi sinks back down into the bed, worming her way under the knitted blankets. She curls up to Lalir’s side, large, strong arms wrapping around her torso. She holds her tight and close, like a teddy bear, nuzzling her cheek against her shoulder.

Ah. Lalir’s face burns a bright shade of crimson as she stares down at Illaoi. How adorable.

Carefully, Lalir leans down and presses a kiss atop the crown of Illaoi’s head. She feels her squeeze her just a little bit tighter.

“Goodnight, honey.”