#adding to the wip stack

[stressfulsloth]

Thank you for putting this in my brain, I am now considering Kim being picked up and spun around by Harry. Because on the one hand he hates it, his authority and composure are going 'put me down this instant' but on the otherhand I think he'd start giggling. I think Kim deserves to have a giggle in the arms of the man who loves him.

🥺 YEAH. He does! He needs to be a bit silly it would be good for him. The whooshing feeling of being spun round like... it should be on the hierarchy of needs. Composure has a total utter failure and Kim can't stop himself from splutter-laughing.

[valiasims]

WIP#46

Hey everyone!

I've been working on some clutter to fill up the closet's shelves. Everything except the books are new. I wanted to add hanging clothes and at first I wanted to do them separately but I'm not sure that is the best idea because all in-game and most cc closets have one slot for clothes so you can't put there more without the tool mod or other hacks. So I thought it would be better to do a group of clothes, that way you can put them into more closets. Let me know which option you prefer (clothes one by one or like the in-game clothes)!

Nonetheless you can see the first coat I made which is my actual coat irl. :D I bought it not so long ago and I really like a design so I thought we should have it in the Sims too.

I don't have too much time left because my aim is to finish this set hopefully this weekend but I really want to make more clothes. I think this stack will be the coats and another one with other type of clothes.

This means I won't be adding the knitting stuff to this set because this closet setup has grown so much and needed so many clutter that I decided I rather finish it than leave it empty and do the knitting basket. Hope you don't mind!

Have a nice day/night! And thank you for the nice comments on the last wip post! I hope you'll like this set.

[ganondoodle]

(wip) totk rewritten botw2 edition

rough ideas for the reworked healing system- bottles+potions are back and must be used in real time, cooked meals are not storable but better than potions, different types of portable pots?

wasnt sure if the portable pot should have different effects or just have designs you can change, but decided to add a few different types for roughly different types of players without too many options that could overwhelm but still add some variety to any gameplay AND a more meaningful reward for bigger quests!

-my goal with this is avoid the pausing to spam apples into links mouth to heal problem, to readd some difficulty with more limited healing in general (bottles must be found or gained as a reward, usage in battle like in skyward sword via wheel menu and then used in real time) and adding more variety via the design of the pots, a neat new item since they are portable (set up a campfire, then option is added to add the pot for cooking), and make cooking a lil more interesting besides it spamming your inventory even more with healing stuff AND add some meaning to bottles and potions again bc imo they were one of the most useless things you could get when playing botw/totk- which is why cooked meals are not storable but with better effects, think of it like a bit more customizable and zeldafied elden ring mechanic with the usual heals and the one time physic buff

so if you got into a bossfight and lost it, you could set up a cooking spot before the arena to give yourself a temporary buff via a meal and restock your potions for in battle healing and/or effects depending on how many bottles you have, if you have trouble dealing damage for example you can use the firey pot to add some extra attack dmg (and yes it stacks if you do attack effect in the firey pot it adds extra attack damage, maybe even with a hidden bonus)

(got similar planned for the parasail .. like dif types with dif effects like faster gliding speed but more stamina usage- one used like koga does in aoc that lets you glide fully soundlessly ...)

(legend of zelda)

(also no NPC will give you a shitty cooked thing as a 'reward' anymore, if anything its a bottle that you can use like in the old games ..)

[tj-crochets]

87/156 squares cut out! That's all seven stars, plus the first four shades of purple (I did my math wrong counting the first time lol)

Next project: the starry purple quilt! I know this fabric stack is yellow, bear with me lol

So far I’ve gotten like 2/3 of the initial ironing done, and a little less than half of the fabric cutting for the stars. Each star has one 6.5” square and eight 3.5” squares. Then I’ll be cutting out five or six 6.5” squares of each purple fabric (I have 17 and need 93 purple squares)

So, all together, that’s 27/128 squares cut out so far! Wish me luck lol

[mirrorballpages]

Elriel Headcannon: Azriel has been going to the library and working with Clotho to figure out the mating bond between Lucian & Elain, and why something feels so off about it.

From my next series, Ivy (WIP)

Azriel shadow-walked to the Library, the cool darkness folding around him as he emerged in the still, quiet halls. He didn’t have much time before his next meeting, but this couldn’t wait. Clotho was there when he arrived, as efficient and composed as always. She inclined her head in greeting, her parchment already writing.

“An interesting assortment of books you have requested. I have a few additional volumes requested from the Day Court. They should arrive in a few days.”

“Thank you for your assistance—and your discretion,” Azriel said, his voice low. He trusted Clotho implicitly, knowing she wouldn’t breathe a word of his search to anyone.

“As always,” the parchment replied with her graceful script. With a wave of her hand, a stack of books appeared on the table before him, their spines worn with age and knowledge.

“I have marked the chapters I think will be the most informative,” Clotho added.

Azriel nodded. “Thank you.” His shadows moved forward, curling around the books and lifting them carefully.

“I’ll return in a few days for the rest,” he said, tucking the edge of his wing tighter against his back as he prepared to leave. Clotho nodded, but her parchment wrote again before he could turn away.

“I hope to meet her soon. Feyre has told me so much about her. I believe some of the priestesses would enjoy her company. A few have attempted to create an herb garden, but without enough light, the plants have not thrived.”

Azriel froze, her words rooting him to the spot. Her. How had Clotho suspected? He’d been so careful, kept his thoughts and intentions buried.

He cleared his throat, forcing his voice to remain steady. “I’m sure she would love to help.”

And she would. He could already imagine it—Elain lighting up at the opportunity, her eyes sparkling as she planned and nurtured the garden back to life. She always did that—brought life where there was none.

“She would light up this place,” he added quietly, almost to himself. And as he turned to leave, his shadows murmuring softly around him, he knew the truth of it. Elain had that rare power, that quiet magic. Wherever she went, she left the world brighter.

[cheolaholic]

ring of love; csc (03)

summary; agreeing to join vernon spectate an underground boxing match wasn't how you'd expect to spend your friday night. you also didn't expect to see seungcheol, someone you've lost contact with for years, become a part of the ring.

modern! au • boxer! au • hhu focused • multiple kinds of tropes • fluff, angst, smut

a/n; new chapter !! also added navigation and some lists to my profile where you can find right here <3 you can find my masterlist, idea/wip dump, a link to my ask box where you can send in thots, requests and even comments; alongside my ao3 ^^

hope you all enjoy this chapter and lmk if you can guess which korean web series one of the scenes are from 👀

hint: it involves a certain kpop group

it was the beginning of fall when your family moved to daegu.

though it wasn’t a big or dramatic move, since you’re moving from the big city to a smaller town in the same province, it was still big to you because it was your first moving experience.

you vividly remember watching the colored leaves fall from the branches and onto the pavement, being stepped on by pedestrians and you imagined they made those ‘crunch’ noises as depicted by the many cartoons you’ve watched.

you were only 5 years old.

“___, are you excited to see our new home?” your mother asked from the passenger seat, turning to see you kneeling on the backseat, admiring the outside view. you turned to her with a big smile, letting out an excited ‘mm!’.

smiling at your enthusiasm, your mother turned to your father who was driving; reaching out her hand and placing it over your father’s resting on the armrest of the car. “do you think she’ll like the place?”

intertwining his fingers with hers, your father gave your mother’s hand an assuring squeeze, “i’m sure she will,” he spoke, “if she doesn’t, we’ll just have to hope it grows on her.”

your mother laughs at your father’s statement; at the same time hoping that it wouldn’t come to that.

the car stops in front of a white double-story terrace house. the second floor had been extended into a balcony and you notice the few familiar plants from your previous house put on display. half of the wall on the outside of the second story was an exposed brick wall, which adds a little bit of red-orange aesthetic to the full white design of the house. the ground level had a black gate, with two front doors in the same colour with floor-to-ceiling tinted windows.

getting out of the car, you ran up to the gates, attempting to climb them before your mother rushed over and picked you up. “sweetie, that’s dangerous!” she pointed out, a frown on her face.

your father was at the boot of the car, stacking two of the many boxes together before making his way to the gates. “honey, the keys are in my back pocket, could you get it?” reaching out a hand into your father’s pocket and fishing out the keys. unlocking the gates and the front door, your mother placed you down on the ground to help your father with the boxes while you decide to explore the interior of the house.

running up the stairs to the second story of the house, there were three gray colored doors. being a curious child, of course you went through all three of them. you opened the first door that revealed the master bedroom, which of course is going to be occupied by your parents. the second door lead to a bathroom; and when you reached the third door - a pink sign was hung on the door with your name written on it.

pushing the door open, the first thing you noticed was a pink bed tucked nicely in one corner of the room. across it was a white study table with a few trinkets decorating the surface, followed by a wooden closet right next to it. at the foot of your bed stood a similar level bookshelf, filled with all your favorite books and coloring books; alongside some of your plush toys.

“do you like it, babygirl?” came your father’s voice from behind you. whirling around and flashing him a big smile, you excitedly nod your head as he crouched down to your level, giving your hair a ruffle.

“i’m glad you do.”

he then proceeded to pick you up and placed you over his shoulder, legs hanging over his shoulders. “daddy!” you squealed, giggling as he gave you a piggyback ride.

“honey! ___!” your mother called out, “come meet our neighbours!”

you stared down at the young boy from your father’s shoulder while he stared back up at you.

as your father sets you down from his shoulder, the roles switched; you’re now staring up at the boy while he stares down at you.

seeing how the staring contest would not end anytime soon, your mother placed her hands on your shoulders, introducing you to the young boy and the woman standing next to him who you deduced to be his mother.

“my, what an intense staring contest,” she chuckled. “we’re the lees’! that’s my husband, and this is ___, my daughter.”

“intense, indeed,” the woman chuckled. “we’re the chois’. it’s nice to meet you, ___. this boy here is seungcheol, my son. my husband’s out back dealing with the garden.”

she then looked down at seungcheol, lightly patting his shoulders, “cheol, did you bring what i asked you to?”

snapping out of the staring contest he was having with you, seungcheol handed you a paper bag which you accepted after getting a nod of confirmation from your mother. looking inside the bag, you see a container of brownies, a small ‘wah…’ leaving your lips.

“mom and i baked them last night! we hope you’ll like them!” seungcheol said with a big grin on his face.

placing a hand on your head, your mother smiles, “our little ___ will definitely like them. she has an incredible sweet tooth.”

“no, i do not!”

“___, sweetie,” your father spoke up, “you ate half a tub of ice cream in half an hour.”

“daddyy!!”

you were 7 when your little crush on seungcheol began.

you were in the playground, swinging on the swingset with your bear plush in your lap when a group of boys approached you. “that’s our swing,” one of the boys spoke, arms crossed as they stared down at you.

you stopped swinging and looked at the group, “you can’t claim a swing. it’s a playground for everyone.” visibly upset by your response, the boys stepped closer so that they would tower over you. “well, this is our swing now. get off.”

“no.”

you could see the face of the boys turn red - from anger and embarrassment that you were refusing to follow their instructions. as they continued to stare down at you, one of them noticed your bear plush, snatching it out from your lap.

“hey!” you shouted, getting off the swing to try and get your plush back, “give him back!”

“nuh-uh,” the boy retorted, raising it up above his head so you can’t reach it, “that’s what you get for sitting on our swing!”

you then shove at the boy, crying out, “i said give him back!”

“back off, girlie!” another boy said, shoving you back with a harder force, causing you to fall back onto the ground of the playground.

as the boys walked away with your bear plush, leaving you to cry on the ground. they tossed it around, occasionally dropping it on the floor and purposefully stepping on the poor plush, later on acting as if they didn’t mean to do so. witnessing the boys’ treatment towards your plush,  you pulled your knees to your chest, hugging it as your cries grew louder.

“___?” a worried seungcheol called out.

crouching down in front of you, seungcheol places a hand on your head, gently petting it in an attempt to comfort you. “___, what happened? why are you crying? are you hurt anywhere?” you attempted to answer him. but, due to your crying, you had a hard time forming words, only letting out harsh pants and whimpers.

“easy there, ___,” seungcheol said softly, “take a deep breath, okay?”

when your crying calmed down, the older boy heard the laughters of the group of boys. turning his head towards their direction, he saw them taking turns throwing a plush bear at each other. seungcheol recognised the plush bear - it was the very same plush he had gifted you on your 7th birthday.

he then turned back to you, noticing that you were looking at the group with a frown on your face. pressing his thumb against your forehead, he gave you a gentle smile, “don’t frown like that, you’ll get wrinkles.”

turning back to the group, he let out a sigh, “they took your bear?”

you sniffled as you nod your head, wiping the snot from your nose with the sleeves of your hoodie. “do you want me to get it back for you?”

“p-please…”

nodding his head, seungcheol got back up on his feet, ruffling your hair before making his way towards the group of boys.

“hey, you rascals over there!” he called out.

you don’t know why, but you felt your heart race, a small blush forming on your face.

after seungcheol had gotten your bear plush back from the group of boys (mainly by scaring them off because imagine an older, taller boy approaching you with a scary look after talking to the girl whose bear you had snatched), he walked you back to your house.

as his parents were out working, it wasn’t unusual for seungcheol to spend some time at your place with your parents as he waited for his to return home. sitting beside you on the porch of the backyard of your back garden, seungcheol was eating a piece of brownie your mom had baked while you enjoyed a cone of vanilla ice cream.

“you need to learn to stand up for yourself, ___,” seungcheol spoke, placing the now empty plate next to him and looked at you. “but, i have you to protect me!” you responded with a smile on your face, earning a small laugh from the boy. “i know, ___. but, i can’t always be there for you.”

“d-does this mean you’re leaving me…?” you asked, tears welling up in your eyes. “oh, ___,” seungcheol said softly as he places a hand on your head, “that’s not what i mean. i meant it as in, there will be times where i can’t always be with you. you remind me of a puppy,” he chuckled. “maybe that can be a nickname for you, hmm?”

when your eyes light up and nod excitedly at the older boy, he lets out another laugh and ruffles your hair.

“alright then, pup.”

taglist (unable to tag a few ㅠㅠ)

@yoonclip @1004luvangel @catjunhui @mystikha @spk93 @tinkerbell460 @yoozuku @dnylwoo @christinewithluv @limbomoon @plutoxxxworld @i-give-up-1234 @m1ngyuc0re @yunloyal @leclercloverbot @bettybeako @billboard-singer @ocyeanicc @krupyadoorrahe @seobinnieshi @xcynthiaaa @k411z @disneyprincesshuri @sunnyapp @khxsh @staygenezy @loufi8iepuff @ursweetener @noisypapergalaxy @wonwootakemyheart @sugainpinksweater @leah-rose03 @thisisnotthelastofus @yearnoclock @kwonhoeshi @minhui896 @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @ru-lin @deobiforever @belladaises @cheoliekkuma @duskunt1ldawn @hyneyedfiz @marshmallowshouse @ak6ko @chwevernonlover @jejuboo-s @tsukinluv @atinytinaa @gyros-cum-sock @soupbinlily @jungwoos-luvr @ener-energy @watermelon-sugars-things @cyberpunkhwx @ddaengpotate @nightwingsrobbinhoods @chaerrylov3r @joshuaahong @wonussmile @uliceeeeeeee @wonwoo24 @shinetogether17 @simplejihoon @luvkpopp

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Pretty Petals 26

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

Warnings: this fic will include dark content including rape/noncon, kidnapping, violence, sexual acts (fingering, oral, anal, dp), coercion, bondage, and more tags to be added as the series progresses. PREPARE YOUR PANTIES, HOES.

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

Summary: You go on a self-improvement retreat, but not all is as it seems.

Girls and Flower Name List HERE!

Characters: Ransom Drysdale, Lloyd Hansen, Lee Bodecker, Curtis Everett, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Loki, Andy Barber, Hela, and multiple OFCs

Note: double chapter day!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

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

Love you all like birds love to appear everytime you are near. Take care. 💖

“It was so lovely to come see you all, to see how you’ve grown,” Hela preens as she stands at the head of the table. “Immaculate, every one of you.” 

Dahlia pokes her cheek with her tongue and Bucky snatches the fork she twirls in her hand. He knows her well. Maybe he even fears he’s at the mercy of the tines.  

You turn your attention back to your matron of dishonour. Her black bob is wavy and her skin freckled from the sun. She’s beautiful for someone so wretched. You can’t help but wonder if you’re the only ones. You know you can’t be the first. It’s all too orderly, too planned, too perfect. 

“Do make me proud, petals,” she claps her hands together and her pretty lips curl, “I may just return at Christmas with some gifts, eh?” 

Christmas. It’s still a ways off but the fall is setting in. The summer is in its last dregs and you find yourself shivering in the morning as the night cools. Not a single voice rises to answer her farewell. You all just stare, rather glare, at her. 

“Well, then, I’ll be off.” 

“Sister, I’ll show you the door,” Loki rises and beckons her away from the table, “I must thank you for coming so quickly and bringing a fresh stem...” 

His voice trails off and you glance over at Zinnia, sitting by his empty seat. She mashes down her eggs with the back of a spoon. The other girls keep there hands away from their plates. You don’t have much of an appetite yourself. 

“Boring,” Lloyd says suddenly. “How about we do something fun?” 

The other men seemed agitated by his suggestion. Strange how they seem to share the same malaise. Ransom’s arm drapes over the back of your chair, Curtis has Violet in his lap, Lee keeps jabbing Marigold and whispering at her. Your eyes meet Steve’s as he watches you in turn. You quickly look away. 

“I’ll clear the table,” you offer as you stand and lift your plate. 

“Ugh, boring,” Lloyd spits again, “Christ on a dildo, why are we sitting here playing Brady Bunch? Let’s get fucking wild.” 

“Shut up,” Bucky growls as Dahlia rubs her faded bruises. 

“Oh, shit, you know, I got the perfect fucking game, girls, follow Lily’s lead and clear the table.” 

The mustachioed man stands and breezes away. The other women look at each other. You nudge Azalea and she stands with her head down. She takes her plate and Lloyd’s. The other girls follow in a long train to the kitchen. Andy gets up to follow, keeping watch as you cluster together to divvy up the leftovers into containers. 

You hate to agree but it is dull as hell. You finish stacking up the dirty plates but none of you are eager to go back into the dining room. Only bad things happen there. The games they play aren’t much fun for you. 

“Go,” Andy demands. 

Dahlia goes out first, angling her head back and forth defiantly. Zinnia follows after her, Daisy, Rose, Violet shuffles noisily and clings to Azalea’s hand as she drags her, then you, and finally Marigold. As you come out, Lloyd stands in front of his seat, jiggling a pair of dice in his hands. 

The other men share your level of enthusiasm. Bucky’s arms are crossed, Ransom yawns, Lee rubs his belly, Curtis picks his thumbnail, Loki untangles a shank of his long dark coils, and Steve peers over his shoulder to stare at you. You don’t like that. 

“Right, simple rules, guys,” Lloyd rattles the large pair of plastic dice, “choose a girl, roll the dice, and let fate decide. I’ll go first since it was my idea.” 

You nearly let out a groan. You’re so tired. Ransom points you next to him and you sit. The others follow suit. Andy stands behind his chair and watches as Lloyd tosses the dice. 

You notice the imprinted images on the sides of the cubes. Various positions and words. You hold your breath and sense the rest of the room doing the same. 

“Hey, Zinnia,” Lloyd calls as the dice bounce over the wood, “how about we get acquainted?” 

The plastic cubes still and shows a man with his head between a woman’s legs as she sits on a chair. The other dice reads, ‘until orgasm.’ 

Zinnia whimpers and Loki sniffs. He stands and drags her chair away from the table. She grips the sides to keep from sliding off. He veers her around to face Lloyd as he struts behind the other seats. He snickers as he drags his hand over his mouth. 

“Come on, let me see the kitty, just wanna give her a pet,” he gets down to his knees and Loki catches Zinnia’s shoulders before she can sit up. She writhes helplessly as Lloyd’s hands crawl up her thighs. He tickles the front of her panties and glances over, “hey don’t let me have all the fun, unless you wanna watch.” 

There’s a moment of indecision. Then Steve reaches across the table and scoops up the dice. He examines each then cradles them in his large hand. Zinnia’s murmurs underline the lull as Lloyd growls deeply, his mouth making unsettling noises. 

“Lily, how’s it we’ve never had any fun?” He asks and tosses them. They only roll a short way before stilling. 

You stare at the top of the first dice. A couple in doggystyle. You clamp your lips and try not to shudder. You glance over at Dahlia and she shakes her head. The other girls slump and shrink, knowing their own turn is imminent. 

The second dice makes you blanch as it lands flat; ‘backdoor’. 

“Perfect,” Steve growls, “don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll be nice.” 

He stands, pushing out his chair and waving towards the seat, “get on your knees, I’ll be right back.” 

“The fuck, Steve,” Ransom sneers. 

“We’ll trade,” Steve offers. 

“Mm, thanks but I think I’ll try something new. How about you, Statue of Liberty?” He looks at ass, “you think you can stay awake for some good dick?” 

You get up as Ransom swipes up the dice. This is humiliating. It’s one thing to be dragged off behind closed doors but these men are as good as starting an orgy. For what? Because they’re bored? 

Steve helps you onto the chair. You brace the back as you sit on your knees, shaking. You don’t know if you can handle this. He rubs your shoulder, gripping it hard enough for the tendon to tweak. You wince and he lets go as he walks away. You watch after him as Azalea starts to snivel. 

You look over as Lloyd keeps his face buried between Zinnia’s legs, his hand on her tits as he devours her. She puffs and pouts and squirm as Loki pets her cheek and coos. Ugh, god! You can’t keep doing this.  

For now, you have to. You have to bide your time. You have to get rid of these necklaces and those damn cameras. You have to wait for these men to turn their fangs on each other instead of you. 

Steve comes back as Dahlia’s snarl rolls through the air. There’s a struggle behind you on the floor you can’t see. Andy’s no longer by the kitchen door. It must be him. His voice confirms it as he calls for Rose too. 

Shit. The chaos breaks out quickly. Steve startles you as he squirts a slick flow between your cheeks. You squeak as he pushes his fingers along your ass as rubs your tight hole. He clicks shut the bottle of lube and reaches to put it on the table. 

He grips the back of your neck and forces your head straight. You his and latch tightly to the chair. You sit on your heels as he bends against you, contorting so he’s flush to your back. He pushes his head next to yours and growls. 

He rescinds his touch for just a moment as he jostles around. His brings his firm tip up along your cheeks and presses against your ring. You babble and reach back to press on his hip. 

“Please, no--” 

He loops his hand around the front of your neck and chokes your voice away. You gasp and wheeze as he pushes into you. He stretches your ass just around his tip, just enough for your to let out a whistle through your tight throat. Ow. Oh shit.  

He rocks and dips a little further inside. Your eyes prick and you shake your head, grinding your teeth as you quake. He thrusts again, deeper. Several more times, sinking in as your insides burn. Even the lube can’t help the resistance of your body. 

He brings his other hand to your throat, crisscrossing his fingers in front of it as he forces your head up and back. Your spine arches as his pelvis claps against your ass and he grunts. The chair rocks with his motion, teetering dangerously as your tears stream down your cheeks. 

The pain is blinding. Your eyes roll back as you puff out shallow breaths through the constriction of your throat. He snaps his hips harshly and you spasm. Again, again, again. Each time crueler than the last. 

Steve shifts his feet and moves closer again. He bucks into you so that the agony radiates from your core. You would sob if your could breath. He adjusts his hands, wrapping them full around your neck. Your lashes flutter as your vision speckles with black dots. 

“Steve, take it easy--” you hear someone warn but you can’t make out their timbre. 

“Hey, whoa, slow down. She’s--” 

Your tongue lolls out as all the air traps in your chest. The heat in your lungs is as fiery as that in your ass. The slap of flesh and the cracking force mingles with the swirling in your head. Your eyelids close of their own volition as all resistance gives out and your body goes limp. The world fades though the pain remains. 

🌸

“You could’ve fucking killed her,” A snarl seeps into your ears, making them itchy. “What the fuck are you thinking?” 

“Whatever. We can get another--” 

“Fuck off. The new one’s already pissing me off,��� Bucky’s deeper tone breaks through the veil over you. 

“Like you even like the one you got--” 

“Lily,” another voice drifts in and your eyelids part, your vision hazy as Dahlia’s blurry figure sits over you. 

“Keep it down,” Lloyd sneers, “some of us are trying to eat.” 

“Don’t be a jackass,” Andy barks as he stands behind Dahlia, looming over you both, “if we lose another one, maybe you should just sacrifice the tall one.” 

“Don’t be so fucking dramatic. He was getting kinky--” 

“She’s awake,” Steve looks over at you, his pants still undone but his dick tucked away. 

“Fucking lucky,” Ransom shoves him and sidles through. “Lily pad, you okay down there?” 

You blink at him as Azalea sways nearby, twisting her hand around her finger. You look at the faces you can make out and Dahlia helps you sit up. You nod and rub your temples, wincing as your ass throbs. Oh, yeah... 

“Come on,” Ransom bends over you and hauls you up, “someone send that douchebag to his room.” 

“Who put you in charge?” Steve growls, “not my fault she can’t take it. Maybe you’re getting soft.” 

“Some of us don’t wanna fuck a corpse,” Ransom retorts as he wraps an arm around your back and lifts you. 

“I’m sure you do so much work, pillow princess,” Lloyd cackles from his knees. He has three fingers inside of Zinnia as she continues to squirm and squeal. 

Ransom huffs and carries on past the others. You lean your head against him, blocking out the rest of the room with his body. You can’t look. It hurts even more to see the rest suffer. 

He takes you into your room and elbows the door shut with a quick jerk of his body. He tuts and put you on the bed. You can’t help but curl up, hugging your legs as the ache pulses from within. 

You’re groggy with the aftermath of Steve’s strong hold. You rub your cheek, trying to get some sense back. Ransom paces, a hand on his hip, the other opening and closing in silent monologue. He’s uptight. You haven’t seen him like this. 

“I told him to stop. Fucker. Can’t fucking listen to save his life,” he snarls and stops, facing you as he stomps. “You heard me tell him to quit.” 

You bat your lashes and nod. Slowly, you muster your strength to sit up. You wince as you do. You stay balled up small as Ransom pushes his chin up and heaves once more. You consider him and his frustration; the words from before. How the men constantly battle for control, not just with you but each other. 

“He should listen,” you croak, coughing and rubbing your throat, “they should all listen to you.” 

He lowers his head and looks at you with an arch in his brow. 

“Sir, I’m sorry,” you drop your shoulders. 

“No, what are you saying?” He narrows his eyes. 

“It’s only... Maybe... if you’d been upstairs, you could’ve saved Iris. And... and if they’d all just listen it wouldn’t all be a mess. You always tell them not to... not to go so far,” you temper your words as you speak them, uncertain and yet you think that makes them seem more genuine. “They don’t listen. First Curtis with Violet, now this.” 

You chew your lip as he stares. Your heart pounds in your chest. Does he know what you’re doing? You’ve never been a very good liar. 

“They’re all breaking the rules but didn’t you all agree to them?” 

He comes forward and you fight not to cower away. He reaches for you and you expect a slap or a grope or jab. Instead he strokes your cheek and bends to meet your gaze. He looks you in the face, his blue eyes searching. 

“You know what, lily pad, you’re right,” he sits lightly on the edge of the bed and draws you close. “that’s why I like you. ‘Cause you know better. You listen.” 

He shifts and lays on his side, pulling you with him. You let him. You put your hand on his chest and rest your head on his shoulder. 

“You’re... you’re the only one who doesn’t hurt me,” you say. 

He hums and sucks his teeth, “I know, lily pad.” He exhales and closes his eyes, “this can’t go on. I gotta get these guys in check.” 

You nod and nestle closer. Not because he makes you feel safe. Not because you meant any of it. Because it makes him think you do. That sliver of doubt is under his skin, it will only continue to poke until he has to rip it out. 

[wickedsniffles]

P/oolverine Snzcanons 🤭

Summary: Just what it says on the label. I've had these brewing in my brain and in my WIP folder for a long time and today I feel the strong urge to share. There may be more where these came from! Pairing: W/ade W/ilson aka D/eadpool x L/ogan H/owlett aka W/olverine

Rating: wee bit explicit

Tags: established relationship, snz of course, smut mention, W/ade has the kink

Word Count: 462

-L/ogan’s heightened senses make his nose so so sensitive. So despite the fact that his body is constantly healing and regenerating, it doesn’t really do much against external irritations a la strong scents, temperature changes, dust, pollen 😇 -L/ogan hates people thinking he’s not totally in control of himself. (Trauma, baby 😎) Not many people would assume he’d be having this issue anyway, if they didn’t think too much about it. His close friends know he struggles with sensory overload, though, like sensitivity to sound, so they also know about this. 

-If he doesn’t know you? There’s a closer chance you’ll get stabbed than find out about a potential weakness to dust. Silent stifle master. Obviously it doesn't feel good, though. Will bite anyone’s head off if they even mention it. 

-Enter W/ade. He fucking ~loves~ that L/ogan’s gotten comfortable enough to not stifle around him, and is very enthusiastic bless you, baby! bestower at all times. Not that that has anything to do with his sneezing kink. Nope. (It does, he’s so fucking hard all the time.) And yes, he blesses every sneeze. 

-L/ogan’s sneezes usually come in doubles or sometimes triples, stacked half on top of one another. I am not a champion sneeze speller but I imagine them something like ESSH-uh. Not that loud, but a little harsh, and they sound like they might hurt his throat after a while. 

-His response to being blessed by W/ade is usually “ugggh” or “thanks 😑”, which is a whole mood. Because W/ade’s standing there practically wagging his tail and L/ogan’s face is red – man is NOT used to that sort of reaction, and he’s easy to embarrass when it comes to showing vulnerability. 

-W/ade could write fucking sonnets about L/ogan’s nose. (And what is it about the vanillas going haywire over H/ugh J/ackman’s nose? Or perhaps they’re not vanillas at all? I’ve seen so many posts devoted to how sexy it is.) The amount of times he’s gravitated to kissing it before sex is pretty high, but it’s hard to blame him. 

-When he asks L/ogan to actually sneeze on him, the other man’s only a little taken aback. They’ve done plenty of weird shit – stabbing each other as a little foreplay has to rank higher on the crazy scale. So he climbs on top of W/ade on their hand-me-down couch, both of them in their pajamas, and noses into the crook of Wade’s neck. And just does it. W/ade almost comes in his fucking Hello Kitty pajama pants – he’s a mess, grinding up into L/ogan’s cock with his arms around his neck and begging for more. 

Please please kitty cat, you’re so fucking hot, do it again. 

Needless to say, L/ogan uses that information to his advantage. 

[onthewaytosomewhere]

WIP WEDNESDAY

alright alright alright - so i'm getting this done now and using the tags i already got tonight thanks ever so much @theprinceandagcd & @priincebutt (and also for the sunday tag nico) 💚

i'm still on my southern philanthropy or liam/pez one night stand fic so that's what we're getting

Liam motions with his head toward the bar, and Percy nods; he feels Percy’s hand in his, and before he knows it, they’re in a roped-off area with its own bar. Percy leads him to a table with bottles of water and a bottle of some top-shelf whiskey with glasses on the table. Liam takes the water he’s handed and opens it, taking a swig as he watches Percy pour a couple of fingers into a glass for each of them over a couple of ice cubes. It’s interesting because he only knows two other people who drink it this exact way. Actually, he thinks it’s this exact brand; Henry’s made Alex’s taste in whiskey even more expensive than it used to be. It’s definitely not the Maker’s Mark they used to sneak in high school. The whiskey tastes smooth on his tongue, and Liam thinks about how other things might taste as well as he watches Percy’s mouth around the rim of his glass. As Percy’s tongue catches the drop of whiskey left on it when he pulls away his glass, he wonders what it might be like to follow that tongue with his own and chase the taste of the expensive whiskey into his mouth. He’s thinking about his tongue in Percy’s mouth as Percy says something he misses in his contemplation. The smirk Percy sends him alerts him to the fact that he missed something, and he pulls himself back to the moment and says, “I’m sorry, what was that?” “I was just wondering what you thought of the whiskey; from what I understand, whiskey is one of those things you southern boys drink; well, based on the accent, I’m assuming southern.” “Yeah, Texas.” “Huh, Texas boys and their whiskey, I guess,” Percy mutters under his breath and shrugs. Liam briefly wonders what he means by that but lets it slide for now. Maybe he’ll remember to ask later.

-- he won't remember to ask later lolz but he will figure out what he means

open tag for anyone who wants to play and other no-pressure tags beneath the cut cuz well, they still are messed up as far as i know lolz

also i got a stack of sunday/monday tags that i'm saying thank you so much for and well flinging them right back for wednesday tags 💚 @suseagull04 @taste-thewaste @tailsbeth-writes @firstsprinces @stellarm

@thesleepyskipper @bitbybitwrites @blueeyedgrlwrites @littlemisskittentoes

& adding some that might wanna play and some to just say hi @adreamareads @agame-writes @agostobuwan @anincompletelist @dragonflylady77

@duchessdepolignaca03 @england-would-fall @firenati0n @forever-fixating @getmehighonmagic

@heysweetheart-writes @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @inell @inexplicablymine @itsmaybitheway

@jmagnabo92 @junebugclaremontdiaz @kiwiana-writes @littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy

@mikibwrites @msmarvelouswinchester @nocoastposts @piratefalls @sophie1973

@thedramasummer @thinkof-england @tinyarmedtrex @typicalopposite @wordsofhoneydew

@yrsacdfox @cricketnationrise @cha-melodius @orchidscript @captainjunglegym

@eusuntgratie @bigassbowlingballhead @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @oxfordslutphase

[nocasdatsgay]

My eyes have been opened. Omg Nuan and Lucien 😍 I’m on board

Yes yes, Lucien is being a genius as usual, but can we talk about Nuan’s serious crush on him for a sec.

[my-beloved-lakes]

WIP Wednesday (my first)

fuck you, oops I mean Thank you @rangersoup for tagging me i can say that cuz she's my sister and I really do appreciate being tagged

I don't have a title for this yet, but Carlos gets sick so TK asks Tommy to babysit Jonah for the afternoon. Then things take a turn for the worst

Tommy watched as her girls showed Charlie and Jonah how to play Jenga and felt a moment of overwhelming pride as Izzy intentionally knocked the stack over on her turn so that Jonah and Charlie wouldn’t lose every time. 

“Aww, your girls are the best.” Grace said.

“she didn’t learn that from me.” Tommy smiled “I was always way too competitive. She must have gotten it from Charles.”

"well regardless, you did a good job with those two." Judd added.

Tommy tore her attention away from the game at the sound of her phone ringing on the table beside her.

“Excuse me, I better take this. It’s TK.” she said and picked up her phone before stepping away.

“Hey, how’s our patient doing?” she asked.

“It’s bad, Tommy.” TK sounded stuffy, like he had been crying. “It’s really bad.”

“Okay, tell me what’s going on.” Tommy said calmly. She could hear the panic in TK’s voice.

“His fever got a lot worse. I had to take him to the hospital. Then he went into respiratory distress. They had to put him on a ventilator. I don’t- I don't know what’s wrong with him.”  TK was talking a million miles an hour.

“Okay, slow down. What are the doctors saying?”

“They don’t know what’s wrong either. They’re running tests now."

“Okay, what can I do to help?”

“I don’t know.” Tommy could hear TK starting to break down.

“Do you want me there? I'm sure Judd and Grace wouldn’t mind watching Jonah. They’re already here with Charlie.” 

TK was quiet for a minute

“Yeah, okay.” he said after a long pause “yeah that’d be good.”

“Okay, I'll be there in ten.”

“Everything okay?” Grace asked as soon as Tommy had hung up the phone.

Tommy glanced at the kids to make sure they weren’t listening

“No.” she said “Carlos is in the hospital. It’s apparently really bad. I think I need to go be there for TK.”

“Yeah, of course. Go. We can hold down the fort here.” Judd offered before Tommy even had to ask.

“Okay. Hey Jonah, your big brother needs my help with something. Judd and Gracie are gonna stay here with you, okay. I want you to do as they say.”

“Okay.” Jonah agreed before turning his attention right back to Jenga, completely unbothered.

“Should we tell him?” Grace asked quietly.

“Not yet.” Tommy said. “I don’t know how much TK wants him to know at this point.”

Idk who to tag because I'm really not very social on here, so consider this an open invitation for anyone who wants to i guess.

[thepythakorean]

parallels between the boy and the heron and this painting, plus general analysis

Arnold Bocklin, Island of the Dead. 1880

i want to preface this by saying i am by no means an art history nerd, i just happen to know some stuff about the background of this painting in particular.

as soon as mahito is sucked into the tower floor he is standing at the shore of an island surrounded by an endless ocean. he is dwarfed by a large set of golden gates that say something like "those who seek my knowledge shall perish" and an even taller forest of cypress trees. these features all frame a white dolmen (primitive tomb usually made of giant rocks stacked like below) that beckons to him.

this scene immediately struck me since it has so many of the visual elements of the painting. mahito is even framed in the foreground to be so very small approaching these giant, daunting structures just like the boat heading for the island in the painting. besides the tombs, the cypress trees are also traditionally associated with mourning and death at least in europe/the mediterranean. other ghibli movies have lavish european aesthetics tied to characters (howl, yubaba, etc.) but it feels particularly intimate here given that mahito's great granduncle, the creator and ruler of this world, is apparently european and can only pass on his role to a direct descendant. (btw not saying the gaudy european decor signature of howl and yubaba aren't important to their characterization, it def is! i'm just saying it stood out to me in this movie especially.) the cliffs full of stone entrance passageways are prominent later in the movie as himi takes mahito through the parakeet's domain, and interestingly, in the delivery room where natsuko is, there is another dolmen behind her (can't find pics since the movie hasn't been uploaded yet urgh).

the backstory to the painting continues to parallel to the events of the story! so there's 5 versions of this painting. the first three versions were painted in a cemetery close to bocklin's residence which was also full of white headstones and sculptures, and cypress trees. one of his infant children, one of many children he lost, was buried there. the one i posted above is the first/second-- while bocklin was working on the first, a the soon-to-be wife of a politician visited his studio, saw the wip, and commissioned her own version with the added white figure and coffin to commemorate her first husband who had just died of diphtheria. already somewhat similar to how mahito's mother died in the hospital fire (well. she died from the fire but presumably she was there because she was sick) and when his father shortly remarried. these were also added to the initial wip and stuck in later versions of the painting. bocklin later wrote to her, "you will be able to dream yourself into the world of dark shadows". the movie is also very dreamlike-- it's a fantasy world filled with strange creatures, alternate versions of people he knows, and passages that seem to alter the fabric of time and space. people also seem to forget about it as soon as they leave even after spending long periods of time in it like a dream. the painting is also very dreamlike, but why? the warm lighting, maybe not in the version i posted but in a couple others, may explain it, but the island itself resembles the curtains and stage of a theater (referencing the audio clip below the description). even if it doesn't look EXACTLY like that to you, it's definitely a too-perfect little scene in a nebulous expanse of space. this theatrical quality is also shown in the movie by the parakeet uprising side plot as well as the scene when himi and mahito collapse in front of the delivery room-- the curtain falls directly in front of the viewer over them as though a stageplay just ended. oh and a friend mentioned to me how this is a classic hero's journey plot and mirrors orpheus in the underworld. island of the dead has also directly inspired NUMEROUS other works of art, including other paintings, stage productions, and symphonic poems. apparently the painting was so popular many people in berlin hung prints of it in their homes (i do too)! as i stated above though, a lot of the visual elements in the painting were already traditional symbols relating to death so i don't want to 100% conclude that miyazaki was directly inspired by this painting, he may have just also resonated with those symbols independent of bocklin which i still think is awesome.

the first time we see himi also reminded me of the painting. she's wearing a white dress and standing at the bow of a small wooden boat, and though her intentions are to save the warawara from the pelicans, she inevitably kills some of them too. visually and thematically she's like the white figure at the front of the rowboat in the painting. she acts as a guide for mahito (analogous to the rower? he traveled to this world of his own volition but needed a guide) for a good part of the movie and is a collage of life and death. she is a younger but kind of omniscient version of his dead mother; she's known all along she is mahito's mother but is about to be born into the world by the end of the movie and accepts her fate happily. she can control fire which envelops her like how she died in the real world, but is harmless to the touch unless she directs it as a weapon, and as we see with the warawara and pelicans it helps creation but also destroys much like fire's role in the natural world. natsuko, though a separate person from himi, is still connected as a sibling, and we see her wandering into the forest at the beginning of the movie while wearing white like himi, back turned to mahito, and that is what prompts him to first enter the tower. the strange nature of her character that doesn't adhere to a proper time or space parallels the way the white figure completely stands out in the painting, at least the ones with darker lighting. another crazy parallel surrounding fire and wwii between the painting and the movie is that the fourth version of this painting was destroyed during wwii due to bombing, again like how mahito's mother's hospital was presumably set on fire by bombing during the war.

the looming effects of war alluded to throughout the movie eventually tie into its resolution, when mahito accepts his new family that he initially rejected, his own imperfect being, and the fact that one must seek out love to be happy in this bitch of a world. his great granduncle is confused as to why mahito wouldn't want to recreate his own world like him. why would you want to return to the world that killed your mother and rejects you as a person? the world that forces your people to die in war and will eventually drop the deadliest weapon mankind has ever seen even a century from now onto your home? you can make everything perfect here! he's created something of a "paradise" himself, full of lush tropical plants, parakeets, and strange insects (some of them looked like the bugs from nausicaa, another fantastical world of lush nature which is also threatened by war. interesting), almost like a garden of eden, and it so happens to be at the very top of the tower. funnily enough, bocklin also painted this several years later:

Arnold Bocklin, Island of Life. 1888

i don't know much about this one so idk if it's an explicit companion piece to the island of the dead but it certainly looks like it. the similarities are now less apparent to the movie if there are any, it's much less lush but there are exotic plants and uh birds and stuff. this is definitely more likely a case of shared inspiration from the symbols themselves rather than movie directly looking at the painting. anyway clearly the promise of a perfect paradise isn't real, as this is interrupted by a war of his own unwitting creation, the uprising of the parakeets he wanted to breed in a paradise that literally bring about the end of the world. no world will ever be perfect when left long enough to its own devices. life finds a way! plus, this world was created through so much death (the construction workers in hazardous conditions, the way the tower keeps spiriting people away. btw in the english sub mahito's dad calls the whole ordeal a "disappearance" but he says "kamikakushi" in japanese which means "hidden by god" in reference to people who mysteriously disappeared as if from supernatural circumstances and yes that's the word they used in the japanese title of spirited away!!!) and is on the verge of collapsing from reality every three days just because of some building blocks?? the real world may be on fire but it'll go out/burn less badly someday, and at least it won't completely disappear in a snap, not in an easily imagined timescale for a human anyway. it's up to you to make the best of it, and this is what mahito decides. there are also visual allusions to other ghibli movies about the constantly present threat or consequences of war. the only other landmark aside from the island mahito lands on is a line of ships which kiriko later tells him are all fake. it immediately reminded me of the stream of planes in porco rosso which were the souls of dead fighter pilots moving on. the shadow people in the swamp were also reminiscent of those in the train in spirited away, which are never explained to my knowledge but the given that spirited away's characters are largely spirits and the way souls are so similarly designed in this movie makes me feel that they were also souls of people in spirited away.

through this imagined otherworld, there is also the blurring of lines between life and death, reality and imagination. himi plus her dyad with natsuko (they're sisters AND they look exactly the same AND both are mother figures to mahito) are great examples of this. mahito's mother is gone, he knew this and set foot into the world anyway. he rejected natsuko as his new mother but in going through the struggles of the tower he comes to accept familial love for her and even keeps confusing "natsuko" and "mom" while reaching out to her in the delivery room. a family is made up of different people but inevitably you will see each other in each person. in the delivery room scene we see the paper hanging from the ceiling lash out to attack and stick to mahito like tape, it even leaves red marks on him. this is one of the best scenes in the movie to me because of its visual contrast to him rushing to save his mother in the fire. in the fire scene, the real world around him is blurred and distorted and at times so is mahito and especially his mother. the fire doesn't seem to burn him or his clothes (i could be remembering that wrong tho) and the scene cuts off before it shows him possibly going in further. in the delivery room, everything is drawn with clean lineart, no stylization. there is no mistaking the reality of this situation even though this world is conjured, the dawning realization upon mahito that this person is his mother is so visceral that he actively fights through the paper literally snapping its jaws and natsuko spitting her hatred towards him. when mahito is ready to leave the tower, himi leaves through a separate door to be born as his mother sometime in the past though she is not a warawara and knows what has happened/will happen, an exception that further demonstrates the nonlinear nature of time and space in the movie.

after coming out of the tower, the heron tells mahito he should forget everything that happened in there. even his grandmother seemed to have forgotten the whole year she spent in there (it seems like tower time reflects irl time judging by the events of the movie). anything that comes out doesn't just disappear, it transforms into a real-life counterpart as we saw with the pelicans leaving as they were (presumably minus the ability to speak) and the parakeets going from big bloodthirsty things to regular parakeets. so mahito can't just forget, especially because he comes out changed from his experiences in there, not just himself personally but also his changed relationships with natsuko and the heron, and also his little souvenirs. then the movie abruptly ends with mahito narrating that they left for tokyo again shortly after the war ended. i like to think that this was a hopeful ending where mahito maintained that character development and was able to welcome natsuko and his new sibling into his family while being able to seek more friends and family in the future. i've seen other analyses talking about how this movie was semi-autobiographical for miyazaki and i can see it, how events early in his life shaped his personality and how he had to fight to find beauty in a world that otherwise treated him poorly, so i'm glad he ended the movie on that note, although in less words. pretty similar to how spirited away ended, although there was arguably more loss involved, but still hopeful, and that's what i find so powerful about this movie. and like this movie, spirited away involves a dyad between yubaba and zeniba as a device for the hardships and beauty of life, how they're not so discreet at times. as a last kindasorta tie-in to bocklin's work, i'll point again to the island of life which was created after the island of the dead, plus a composition directly inspired by the island of the dead, a symphonic poem with the same title written by sergei rachmaninoff. the last time i listened to this was in high school and it's like. 20 minutes long so i'm too impatient to give it a relisten now but from my vague recollection plus some quick searches it's a very somber piece that escalates into emotional climaxes yet still contains warmer tones, and goes back to the same "rowing" motif at the end. it weaves together evocations of life and death in one piece, also illustrating how the two really are so closely connected.

tl;dr, this was me the entire movie because miyazaki SEEMS to be heavily inspired by this one symbolist painting i happen to like a lot:

also also here's a self portrait of bocklin:

yes, all of his paintings are that cool.

[deqdwinter]

#FOREVER IN YOUR FAVOR

pairing: yasushi takagi x chubbyfem!reader

summary: as written lies tie these two by contract, a destined fate lies between the walls that our tragic lovers have built to keep themselves grounded without crumbling of disdain.

warnings: heavy angst, fluff, nsfw content, ceo au, a bit of unrequited love, maybe infidelity idk, ooc

authors note: with yasu’s bald headed ass being a lawyer, you already KNOWW those checks be stacked 🤫 but anyways i love yasu sm i need him so badly and i need more nana fanfics 🙁 and i know this is long overdue but i finally got a bit of motivation to write after months so i’m feeling pretty proud 😼 especially since i’m still doing really good on school rn so YAY ME, but anyways hope y'all enjoy this series and my wips fics that are coming very soon, OORAH

001 + 002 + 003 + 004 + 005 + 006 + 007 + 008 + 009 + 010 + 011 + 012 + 013 + 014 + 015 + 016 + 017 + 018 + 019 + 020 + more tba (maybe)

shoot me an ask to be added to the taglist ;3

[bitletsanddrabbles]

WIP WTF My Brain Insists It's Wednesday

I took an extra day off this week, and then it snowed so I went home after less than an hour on Sunday, and so now my brain is all discombobulated and, after a day of furious writing on a short thing that is not short enough to actually be done (and which it keeps trying to lose interest in), it's insisting it's Wednesday.

And I'm randomly in a high-anxiety mood for no damn reason what so ever I was fine until an hour ago wtf, so I'm going to humour it. Because why not? And maybe it will focus and not insist we need to pack our things and run to the hills.

(No, it is not the news. I avoid the news. It's not ostrich syndrome, it's basic survival necessity. Besides, Mum's retired and does pay attention to the news and can pass along the parts I need to know without the copious fear mongering. I seriously don't know what my brain wants right now.)

Anywho! While this is not an Island piece, it's sort of...Island adjacent? While doing set up for the infamous Phillip on the Island piece, I kinda worked out with @alex51324 what our dear Duke would have been doing in the war for this sub-reality-of-an-au and the other day my brain decided we should explore that a bit, just so we have his thinking down 100% in the other piece. .....I don't trust this to work, but don't fight inspiration, right? Right. That is not how we get our WIP folder to grow.

And since my brain's calendar says it's Wednesday, I thought I'd share a bit, in case anyone was curious. Also, because I'm not sure that what I'm doing with certain of his relations is clear or if I need to make them more obvious. The fine line between trusting my readers to be able to think and obscuring details, ya' know?

Anywho, for the curious: have Phillip, July 1916, failing to get to sleep.

-

Next to the bed was a small nightstand that held a book, an alarm clock, and a stack of letters. He looked at the white paper, visible in the moonlight that seeped through the curtains.

The top one was from his mother. She informed him that his wife, Charlotte, was taken with the flu, and the doctors were quite concerned that she might die, leaving little Cecily as their only child. He could always get another wife, of course, if absolutely necessary (they’d have Charlotte’s money after all, and wasn’t that the important thing?), but it would be better for all involved if he would stop being irresponsible, leave the fool’s game of playing at soldier to other men, come home at once, and be by Charlotte’s side. The war office would find a place for him, if he truly felt the need to involve himself.

As if his presence could cure disease. If anything, his being home would raise his own chance of dying. One of the senior officers had taken him and some of the others out to the nearest trench once, to be saluted by the men and sneered at behind their backs. Outside of that, the most danger he faced was a paper cut. If he died of the flu, the title would revert to the crown, and then where would they be? There would have been no point in his marrying in the first place. No point in having lived at all, really.

Beneath the first letter came two from his sisters. Louisa, still single and living at home, repeated his mother’s news about Charlotte, but added that little Cecily was walking quite well now and had said her first word, which was Mama. Surely Papa couldn’t be far behind! She liked being read to, although she wanted to turn the pages herself. How bright she was! How clever! If only he could be there to see her.

He thought of the photograph he kept in his cigarette case, a baby in swaddling clothes, gazing curiously in the camera as her mother held her. He remembered holding her, hours old (one of the advantages of being a duke was arranging home leave). He remembered the weight of her, the way she smelled, and the odd sense of pride he felt at her being a born a girl, regardless of what the world wanted. He caught himself on the verge of pushing himself out of bed, packing his things and demanding to go back to England and a nice, responsible job in the war office, and hang anyone who thought him a coward for it. He forced his muscles to relax and lay back down. Duke or not, he couldn’t just leave France when he wanted. There were jobs in the war office if he wanted them, yes, but it would take his mother pulling strings to make it happen.

Louisa always had been the cunning one of the family.

Florrie took after their mother and did not bother hiding her scorn. It made her easier to resist. She talked about her own son, little Edward, and how her husband, Charles, had made certain the line and the title were secure before he’d agreed to go off to France. Once again he heard about Charlotte’s health and the available jobs in the war office. She mentioned several of her friends whose husbands hadn’t come back, simultaneously reminding him of the danger and presenting him with a list of eligible replacements, should Charlotte die. Florrie and Charlotte had never got on.

That was it for the day’s mail. Next came a letter two weeks old already which had passed through the army’s censors. It was from Charles, at the Front. The trenches were worse than he’d imagined, as was the food. He’d give anything for boarding school food, even if it was cauliflower cheese. At least that hadn’t been tinned. He said Phillip was well off where he was, and that he’d be well suited for the job he’d left behind in the war office. Phillip would have thought his mother had put the man up to writing that bit, except Charles had never been clever enough for even that level of subtlety.

He’d replied to the letter, but it had been returned, undeliverable. Apparently he’d learned his brother-in-law was dead before his sister had.

For all he knew, Charles was being buried under his window.

With a sigh, Phillip rolled over and tried to get comfortable. The bed was too narrow and the mattress too hard for a truly good night sleep, but he was exhausted enough that surely he could get a few hours rest, despite the heat. If only the damn shovels would stop.

He idly wondered how his brothers were doing. Of course, no one thought to tell him that. True, his family hadn’t been close to the Salbergs since death had ended his father’s affair with Miriam Salberg, Lady Stockbridge. Still, his mother hadn’t discouraged the connection, and Phillip had certainly danced with Harriett at plenty of balls. Before his mother had insisted he become serious about finding a wife, the two of them made a grand joke about how they might one day be married, as if the likeness between them weren’t something people avoided commenting on. They delighted in batting their eyes at each other and watching the older aristocrats look uncomfortable. John at least looked like his mother. Phillip did the sums in his head and came to the unavoidable conclusion that the younger man was, beyond a shadow of any doubt, old enough to enlist. Lord Stockbridge was only a baron. Had he been able to keep John out of it? Had he even wanted to? While Phillip didn’t know of any ill will between the baron and his youngest children, he still had to know John wasn’t actually his.

Perhaps he would write Harriett. She had moved to Derbyshire, having netted herself an earl, but she would certainly be able to tell him if their brother was at home or in the trenches.

Geoffry, of course, was only seventeen and still in grammar school. Even if the war went on long enough for him to join, their mother would move mountains to keep her darling ward out of it. Phillip supposed he couldn’t be too bitter about it, given that she’d have done the same thing for him, if he’d let her. She still would, her letters made that clear. But with Geoffry it wouldn’t matter if he was married, or if he had sons. Whoever the boy’s father was (probably the Earl of Carton, whose wife stubbornly refused to die or demand a divorce, but it was difficult to say. It might just as well have been a visiting valet, for all Phillip knew), she had wanted to be with him. She had wanted his child, where as Phillip had been a duty for both of his parents, and the girls had been a failure. And while he told himself that it didn’t matter…

Well. It was difficult not to envy him. It wasn’t that their mother dotted on him, particularly, any more than she had her legitimate children. She was too clever for that. But she found other ways to spoil him. He had freedom of a sort Phillip could only imagine. He’d had his choice of schools, his choice of careers to pursue (he was interested in law). He’d be allowed to marry whomever he pleased, no doubt, since the estate and title were Phillip’s responsibility. No matter how tight money was, he was certain that the Dowager Duchess would leave him a tidy amount upon her death (and Phillip wouldn’t dream of saying no. If the girls didn’t murder him, his mother would haunt him), and then he’d be able to go wherever he pleased. He could move to France or Spain or America, if he liked, while Phillip was stuck maintaining the honour of the family.

There were days he wished the Germans would drop a bomb on him. Then the honour of the family could go fuck itself, and take the honour of the Empire with it.

[simaddix]

Continued Armory: WIPS

Continuing on with my armory project... I just keep adding items to the archery side!

I was stumped on how to store archery items for a full sized armory. I found this inspo picture online, and took a shot at modeling it.

While I think I got pretty close, it wound up looking a whole lot like a robot in blender, lol! So I started over, and made a simplified version of the inspo.

I'll have similar placements for the bows that will match the weapons. They'll lay on tables, lean against furniture, and litter your floors as you see fit.

Now on to targets...

I've always wanted to do something "more" but "less" with the archers gauntlet from the store... and I ripped the thing apart in blender to come up with... well... a backboard. Then made it a throwing stand instead. Not sure how I'll finish this, but there's the idea lol

Then there's the palisade wall, with a variety of target options... stacked hay bales? A straw target (offering 4 different textures) with a bale for the "misses", and a dummy from skyrim... complete with arrows for a bit of realism.

More straw targets with their textures, both decorated with knives and arrows.

And my current favorite... the haybales... (Before you ask, yes I plan on making these functional hay bales as well... in time, guys, in time... lol)

That's what I have so far... none of this is finished, but that's a start.

Let me know your thoughts and ideas! See y'all soon!

(The idea for an axe/knife throwing mod is just sitting here wide open... *ahem* for anyone that might be interested... lol)

[sanscestfanfictionblog]

Love Bites (A Inkmare Fanfic WIP but secretly an Errormare Fanfic be nice please i'm just bored)

On a frigid winter day outside the mansion of Nightmare, the Midnight Gang, also known as The Bad Sanses, were gathered within. Their leader, Nightmare, lay in his slumber chamber when a memory surfaced in his dream. Suddenly, he gasped and awoke in a cold sweat, realizing he had a date that he had nearly forgotten amidst a stack of old correspondence.

     He quickly rose and hurried to his desk to check the mail, eager to discover the details of his upcoming date and the appropriate attire. Upon finding the letter, he began to read: "To my Dearest, I have arranged a special date for us to celebrate our two years together, but you must come to OuterTale so we can enjoy it under the stars! Please avoid wearing anything formal or excessively fancy; choose something that reflects your true self rather than an 'arranged marriage' look. Yours lovingly, Ink." A simple date beneath the stars? It seems quite straightforward, he mused as he set the letter aside.      He proceeded to his wardrobe, selecting a hoodie, shorts, and his crown. After dressing, he made his way to the door and descended the stairs, where he encountered his fellow gang members, whom he led. He noticed Horror, the castle cook, preparing breakfast, while Dust, the quietest of the royal guards, was asleep on the couch. Killer, the lovesick royal guard, was, as usual, eagerly anticipating a glimpse of Nightmare's enchanting visage. Notably, one seat remained vacant, the spot once occupied by Cross before his betrayal of the Midnight Gang. 

  "Good morning, everyone. Have you had the opportunity to review your mission board today?", Nightmare addressed them with a composed yet authoritative tone, reinforcing his position as the leader. Horror, startled, quickly placed the dishes down before rushing to the mission board, inadvertently damaging a door frame due to his size. Killer observed this with a sigh and remarked to Nightmare, "Is it really necessary to instill fear in your own team?" Nightmare shot him a glare and replied, "Just go check the board, Killer." He exhaled in frustration. Meanwhile, Dust was snoring, prompting Nightmare to glance over at him and think, 'Another night of little rest for him.' He made his way to the kitchen sink and began washing the dishes before the others returned. 

   As he chuckled to himself, he heard his phone ring, causing him to flinch and turn around. He answered the call, "Hello?" and awaited a response. On the other end was Error, a close frenemy of Nightmare. "Hello, Nightmare. When can I come by to pick up my clothes from your washer?" Error inquired casually. Confused, Nightmare glanced at the phone before placing it back to his ear. "When did you do laundry here?" he asked, bewildered. Error let out a small laugh. "While you were sleeping, I used the lavender laundry soap." Upon hearing this, Nightmare gasped loudly. "YOU ASS! That was my last bottle!" Error chuckled, "I am aware of that, nightmare, which is precisely why I took that action." With a sigh and a chuckle, he ended the call. Nightmare, filled with frustration, hurled his phone and rubbed his temples in irritation. Just then, he noticed Horror, who appeared worried. "Ah... greetings, Horror..." he said with a nervous laugh before walking away, adding, "Please ensure you complete your missions, will you?" Horror nodded, letting out a small whine before teleporting to his assignment. Once all his associates had departed, he turned on the shower to prepare himself. As he slowly undressed, his body, which was in a constant state of melting, was revealed. He sighed softly, lamenting, "Stuck with this eternally melting form..." 

   He entered the shower and hummed gently, thoroughly cleansing his body before stepping out and drying himself. He walked nude, with only a towel wrapped around him, to his room, where he dressed in a t-shirt, pants, and shoes. After putting on a jacket and beanie, he turned and smiled serenely. He then proceeded to OuterTale, feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation as he looked around. He waited for an hour, growing increasingly frustrated, until he suddenly heard a snap. Gasping, he turned around to find Error. "YOU DICK, YOU SCARED ME!" Nightmare exclaimed as he threw a rock. Error flinched, raising his arm to shield himself from the projectile. "SHIT! WOAH! My apologies, King; I was merely coming to see you.." Error replied in a calm but sarcastic tone, before wrapping his arms around Nightmare's waist. "What on earth are you doing, Error?" Nightmare retorted angrily, attempting to squirm away. "I'm here for Ink, not you," he stated bluntly.

    Error displayed a slight pout as he leaned in closer to Nightmare, causing the latter to instinctively pull back. "It's clear that Ink has difficulty experiencing the full spectrum of emotions needed to address your... situation. Perhaps a simple kiss might help?" Error suggested gently, trying to persuade Nightmare to consider the idea. Nightmare responded with a low grunt, firmly pushing Error away. "I have no 'situations,' Error. My feelings for Ink come from the happiness he brings me," he replied calmly, crossing his arms and turning his back to Error, clearly signaling his disinterest in the discussion.

   Error observed Nightmare's reaction and rolled his eyes in exasperation before expressing his disbelief. "I fail to comprehend what you find appealing about him! He does not love you; it is impossible for him to do so, as he lacks a soul. He is merely manipulating you to provoke your brother and his companion." Nightmare's demeanor shifted slightly, his shoulders sagging as he turned his head toward Error, responding with a hint of frustration. "Do not involve my brother in this, Error; that is not the reason Ink is in a relationship with me. Furthermore, do not presume to enlighten me on matters I am already aware of, as if I am foolish!" Fully turning to face Error, Nightmare's expression hardened into a glare, his voice taking on a menacing tone. "You could not possibly grasp the complexities of this situation!" The intensity of his anger was palpable, revealing the depth of his emotions. The confrontation escalated, highlighting the tension between the two as Nightmare struggled to defend his feelings against Error's harsh judgment.   Error took a step back, exhaling in exasperation as he rolled his eyes. "I am not going to argue with you about this, but I will demonstrate that he has no good intentions. When I do, you will understand!" With that, Error opened a portal to the void, leaving Nightmare to turn away in frustration. Once Error had vanished, Nightmare found himself alone, sinking into contemplation. He sighed deeply, reflecting on Error's words. "Foolish... Error is completely misguided! Ink is merely a forgetful annoyance... Not to mention the X-Event... that multiverse was utterly ruined," he chuckled to himself, lost in his thoughts. Suddenly, Nightmare turned around and was startled to see Outer, prompting a mutual scream from both. They instinctively recoiled from one another, their eyes locked in surprise before Nightmare let out a resigned sigh. "Great... hello, Outer," he greeted with an air of calmness. Outer, visibly relieved, placed a hand on his chest and responded with a playful tone, "Hello, Goop." Just as Outer was on the verge of regaining his composure, he observed that Nightmare appeared distressed.

"You know, when you are upset, a black and purple aura tends to surround you," he remarked. Nightmare flinched at this observation and waved his hands dismissively. "You are just a hippie... one of those eccentric individuals who claim to see 'auras' and dabble in voodoo," he retorted, attempting to persuade Outer that it was all a figment of imagination. However, the aura was indeed a consequence of the incident involving the apple. Outer rolled his eyes slightly and inquired, "Regardless, you seem troubled. What is bothering you?" Taking a seat beside Nightmare, Outer fixed his gaze on him as Nightmare blinked and stared into the distance. "Error does not comprehend my affection for ink... Am I mistaken?" he asked, glancing over at Outer, who was deep in thought. "Well, do you believe ink reciprocates your feelings?" Outer questioned. Nightmare nodded in affirmation, prompting Outer to sigh. "Then what is the issue? You love him, and he loves you in return, so tell Error to cry a river, construct a bridge, and move on," he replied with a hint of sarcasm. Nightmare chuckled, "For someone who identifies as a hippie, you certainly have a sharp tongue." He then stood up, energized by the conversation. "You are right! I will return shortly, thank you!" he exclaimed as he dashed away, waving at Outer, who returned the gesture before resuming his work.