#also thank you anon 🥺

[cinnasalmon]

It’s the classic cliché… why does the wrong stuff always feel so right…

You had just turned 19…still no experiences with the world…ever so newly and exciting, but still scary…

“Open up for me a little wider…” his voice smooths over you, and all you can do is agree to it. You open your legs wider feel all soft of embarrassed till his large hand is caressing your face. It instantly makes you feel better, comforted by his warm touch.

“Good girl” he whispers to you, his firey eyes that people have described as fearsome in battle are nothing but soft and delicate now.

Zevlor, 23 and fastly moving up the ranks in the Hellriders… and one of your father’s underlings. People have been talking about him a lot lately for his work and his service to the city… he is know for his kindness and ability…as know for his popular with a few of the ladies of the city. But how could anyone blame them? Zevlor is so handsome with gorgeous horns and his long golden hair, and a smile so dangerous it could make anyone swoon…

Maybe that’s how you ended up here? With his tail wrapped around your leg as he lines up his cock to your entrance, as his words continue to make your quiver. One to many smiles, one to many lingering glances and one to many touches to the small of your back that brought you here begging for him to take your virginity.

At first he denied you, saying he couldn’t. But the more you pleaded and whispered how it hurts having to long for him. How empty you feel without knowing his kiss or touch…well Zevlor never wants to make anyone unhappy especially a cute little thing like you… so he laid you down on his bed. Whispers of promises to make you feel good, kisses full of lust and tounge as you give yourself to him. Father could never know…this was a secret only ment for you two…

Your breath catches as you feel his cocks head start to push through. Despite all the prep of him eating you through your first orgasm the stretch still stings. The further he pushes the more you feel every bump. Every hot vein throbbing within you, stretching it taut.

Then half way in he stops his full lips presses kisses to your sweating face, and one passionate kiss before he speaks again, “it will hurt for a moment…then a promise it feels good”

Squeezing his shoulders you nod, “I trust you Zevlor…I will always trust you…”

One more flash of that kind smile before he’s snapping his hips into you, the snapping hurt…and from the way his sensitive nose flared you know he smells the blood. But He doesn’t stop, his hips keep working, his hands arching your body till that pain is formed to pure bliss. His groans addictive and your moans are shameful…but he was right…it does feel so good. Dangerously so…

-thank you for the amazing young Zevlor art!

The fucking Sun has not even risen yet and you got me feeling a type of way. I feel like I won first place prize for a contest I didn't do anything for 😢 omg

The details 🤌 the large hand on the face..... flashing smile.... the nose flare............

I love that he's an attentive and caring lover even at 23, boy you should be pumpin and dumpin like other guys your age but no, you got virgins begging for you. How does it feel king

[retquits]

hewwo i love your fanart BUT i dont know much about ur ocs !!!! is there an oc(s) of yours you'd like to ramble about?? xx

thank you so much for asking?! 😭😭😭 AHH

actually, i'm really obsessed with my fields of mistria oc, monroe!!

💙 i have a full page dedicated to him here 💙 (including his bio and a lot of unpublished art that i'll post here eventually - i'm addicted to drawing him)

he's a very weary ex-adventurer with a pretty unpleasant past who moved to mistria in hopes of just quietly disappearing/fading away. he's malnourished, has terrible posture, doesn't know how old he is, has big feral cat energy, and doesn't know how to handle people being kind to him. i love him and his silly blue farm so much

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

hcs abt geto and very sleepy reader?? :))

HE WOULD LOVE YOU SO MUCH . i genuinely can’t overstate this i think a sleepy little reader is one of his favorites actually …… he just melts when he’s around you. suguru finds it so rewarding when his s/o falls asleep around him because it proves that you feel safe with him, that you trust him . and it makes him feel like a big scary guard dog and a warm pillow all at once <333 (number one most likely jjk man to fall in love the first time you fall asleep on his shoulder in a crowded train . i’m sorry but it has to be said)

and if you’re the type who’s sleepy often it just makes him melt even more …. he’s so fond of your droopy eyes and little yawns :(((( gets the happiest, most smug little smile on his lips when you start dozing off and clinging to his sleeve . he loves everything about it. loves being your headrest, loves carrying you to bed, loves watching your chest rise and fall while lying next to you. he has trouble sleeping but he swears just watching you snooze so happily makes it easier for him to do the same …..

basically . he loves his little sleepyhead <3 absolutely obsessed with you. especially loves how you cling to him in the mornings before he goes to work :3c

[butmakeitgayblog]

Jumping in on the CI appreciation. The dynamic is just so fun and deceptively beautiful as messed up as they are. You are a great writer and have a unique way of captivating a reader. Kudos and much success however you choose to pursue your talent! Speaking of… have you written or plan on writing that blowout fight scene (post hospital release) where Lexa draws the proverbial line so to say?

CI fight 😈

///////////////////////

This is the stupidest you've ever felt in your life.

Which is saying a lot, considering the sheer amount of reckless and dumb shit you have done.

But this absolutely takes the cake you decide as your hired nurse wheels you into your lounge room, the sheets already turned back on your couch-turned-makeshift bed and the mountain of your wife's borrowed pillows that are already fluffed to within an inch of their goddamn life.

Your hip kills every time you try to stand on it and your back feels like it'd gone one too many rounds with a baseball bat, and thanks to the four fractured bones in your wrist, you can't even deal with it on your own with the use of a crutch or cane. So instead, you hang on to this fucking stranger and woddle over like a toddler, sweating through all three herculean steps it takes until you can sink down into the godsend that is your new recovery zone.

You wave her off with your good arm once she gets you settled. Tell her you're fine and to stop fucking hovering because you didn't even really need a nurse to move in with you to begin with.

But your wife had insisted and left no room for argument, and well... You're not very good at telling her no when she's upset.

So here the hell you are.

Your grousing is hushed by the sweeter notes of your wife's voice when she comes trailing in behind you with that familiar sharp clicking of her heels.

She apologizes for your lack of manners and tells RN Whats-her-name she can go get settled in the guest room that she'd already showed her - you suppose she must have gotten the grand tour at some point while you were still laid up in the hospital.

Ass out in a gown and perpetually high as a kite.

Not your finest point in life.

Not the lowest either.

At least the drugs made it a good time...

Your temple throbs when your 'guest' excuses herself and snaps the doors shut behind her, making you groan and reach to rub at the bandage taped to the side of your head.

Fingers quicker than yours catch you before you can do any damage.

"Don't," Lexa warns you in a whisper more gently than you had expected, considering she's had to remind you three times already today.

You murmur your sorries and pout because it hurts, but can't help but breathe lighter when she slips into the space between your legs.

Rather than settling in your lap as you'd foolishly hoped for, she perches on the edge of the coffee table instead. She smells so good and her gorgeous face is so serene when she gets comfortable and looks at you dead in the eye.

But then she folds her fingers together and she leans her elbows on her knees, and you already know you're in for some kind of ass chewing.

Fantastic.

She levels you with that 'wife look' she gets. The one that tells you that she means business.

Nobody warned you about that when you'd agreed to this whole 'marriage' thing.

"So," she breathes, only pausing to lick her kissable lips, "Welcome home, Darling."

You snort a laugh through your nose that still hurts where it's swollen but the good drugs kinda help you not care. "Thanks for having me, babe. Nice place you got here," you say in sarcasm-dipped words.

She merely hums and gives you a narrow-eyed grin that feels sexy and distinctly lethal.

"Yes. I've missed you in it. I've missed having you here. With me."

That softens you. Lulls you into a false sense of security.

"I missed you too, baby."

"Good. Then," she says in a quick breath that sounds not unlike ripping off a bandaid. "I wanted you to know that I've taken the liberty of finding a buyer. Well, a few of them, really. All predictably salivating over the collection. But I supposed it'd be appropriate that we talk about the logistics of this before moving forward. I'm open to deferring to your expertise in this field when it came to numbers because, frankly, I'm more than willing to just give the fucking things away. So, we should talk about this."

You smile, because you're an idiot, and you think it's hilarious that she's talking to you like one of her clients. But you also smile because you're a little high off your medicine, and she's really just so pretty, and because not one word of that made any sense.

"What's... 'this'? What're you— Talk about the logistics of what?"

"Selling your cars," she answers with an easy nod, like it absolutely should've been obvious.

The silence that rings through the apartment feels loud in your ears... before you burst out laughing right in her face.

"What?" you choke out and chuckle, because you must've heard that wrong. "What are you talking about?"

"Just what I said, my love." She reaches out boops the tip of your nose with a patronizingly scrunched smile. "You know I don't like repeating myself."

"That's cute, Lexa," you titter and swipe at the hand that's already so far out of reach.

"Oh I'm not kidding, Clarke."

"Okay. And I'm not selling my cars."

"No, actually, you are."

You scoff and use the shoulder that isn't currently trussed up in a sling to push you hair off your neck so you can see her better. Or... something.

Because all you really see is the calm of her smile. Those eyes that are sharp. Hollow. Unyielding. And if you'd looked beyond the swell of anger that suddenly bursts through your chest, you might've seen the whispered-smoke of terror that hid in their depths.

But you do not.

Instead you focus all of your righteous indignation and stubbornness that burns white hot. You give a derisive laugh, and shake your head, and level her with a cold stare of your own.

Making sure she hears your every word, loud and clear.

"No. The fuck. I am not."

It almost feels like victory when her smile falls away.

"Clarke," she says with a deathly click to your name, "I want those deathtraps gone."

"Lexa—"

"I don't care."

"Lexa—"

"Stop saying my name, because whatever comes after it, I promise you, I do not care."

"Well I don't really fucking care either," you spit just to get a rise out of her, "because I'm not doing it, and I don't give shit what you say, Alexandria."

Her jaw ticks to the side as her eyes flash with hellfire.

She hates that name and you know it but right now you just want her to be every bit as angry as you are.

"Okay," she says so quiet you barely hear her over the hammering of your heart as she pushes on her knees to stand up and hovers over you for a moment.

And you think it's a victory because it feels like a victory...

Until it does not.

Because she just nods.

And keeps nodding.

Just this slow up and down of her head, her eyes empty and her face cold, but not in the way that you fell in love with.

This only fills your chest with dread.

So it's a shock when she straddles your hips, planting one knee on each side and sinks down to sit in your lap. Her weight is comforting after your stay in the hospital, if not a little painful in the way it twinges your fucked up leg. But you don't even let yourself flinch because God you've missed this. You've missed her, and her scent, and the way she practically drapes herself over you.

Your good arm wraps around her waist and digs fingertips into the soft dip of her spine, pulling her flush against you. You soak up the flutter of her lashes at the feel of your breasts pressing against hers; the way she fidgets not to grind down like her body's muscle memory is obviously screaming at her to do.

Instead she stares at you through those dark hooded eyes, now so beautifully filled with emotions that make your heart pound out a more pleasant rhythm than before.

"I love you, Clarke," she says. Whispers.

And your breath catches in your chest.

Same as it does each time she says those words, so fleeting and so rare as they are that they pierce straight through the mushiest parts of your heart. Because you know she loves you. You know it in every single thing she does. But there's just... It's just... Nothing will ever rival these moments when she lets them slip out, so unguarded and vulnerable with you.

And really... that should've been a warning.

"And I love you, pretty girl," you whisper right back instead, grinning as she preens under the praise, so lost in her beautiful face you don't even remember there exists a world beyond her.

You watch her throat dip in a thick swallow, her hands smoothing up the length of your neck. She cups your cheeks as her eyes trace every line of your face... as if she were committing this moment to memory.

She shakes her head. Sadly.

"I adore you," she says again, softer still and with more conviction. "Everything. I adore everything about you, Clarke. I love you more than I have ever loved anything in my entire life. And I'm always going to love you, no matter what."

When she kisses you then, in that moment, it's possibly the softest, purest thing you have ever known. She kisses you like it's the only thing she needs in this world and you hope she knows it's the same for you. Because her lips pillow and give under every caress of your lips, and her tongue slipping against yours feels like the only home you've ever known. It's one kiss among thousands you've shared. But you know you'll think of this one for years to come, and honestly if fighting gets you loving like this then you should really make a mental note to call her by her birth name more often...

She breaks the kiss with a sigh, and a shuddering breath against your lips.

"I love you. So, so much... I just want you to always remember that."

You barely have time to blink out of your haze when she extracts herself from your arms and your lap and your lips, and stands up on shakey legs.

She lets out a deep breath and smooths her hands along the front herself, rigidly primping herself free of any creases you might've left.

Her chin rises in that regal arch as she looks down at you and nods once again.

"I'll have our lawyer draw up the divorce papers in the morning."

Your hand snaps out when she turns to leave and catches her shirt cuff before you even have time to think, gritting your teeth to try and bite back the sudden shock of pain that slices up your arm and explodes through your shoulder.

"Wait, what the fuck did you just say?" you practically yelp.

Her icy glare drops to the hand that holds her, jaw flexing as she watches how bad you tremble.

"Let go of me."

"Uh, no—"

"If you don't," she cuts in, enunciating with lethal precision, "I'll have to rip my arm away, and that will hurt you more, and I don't want that. Now stop acting like a child, and let go of me."

You grit your teeth and fist her cuff harder through the cold sweat of pain. "I guess you'll have to hurt me then, because I'm not letting go until you repeat what the hell you just said."

"You heard me perfectly well, my love."

"No, I don't think I did."

"Then you'll figure it out tomorrow, won't you."

You let out a strangled sound and collapse back on the couch - both from the pain and the sheer terror ripping through you. "Lexa, what is this? What are you playing at? Why are you doing this?"

"I'm not playing at anything, I'm telling you that I'm not doing this with you ever again, Clarke," she says in her crisp business voice. "The hospitals. The sitting at your bedside. The wondering if you're ever going to be able to paint again. Watching you limp around for weeks, just to turn around and do it again. I'm done."

You roll your eyes at her dramatics. "Oh my god, are serious? It was just an accident—"

"One that could've killed you."

"It wasn't even my fault."

"That's not the point," she nearly growls, all fire and fangs. "This is your third accident in four fucking years. I can't keep doing this."

"And what exactly is 'this'?"

"Waiting around to lose you!"

Your ears ring at the volume of her shout.

You swallow as she takes a moment collect herself.

Feel the lump grow in your throat as she mindlessly fiddles with the diamond on her finger.

You know it's a habit that calms her when she's feeling particularly out of control. A tick she picked up and never seemed to kick somewhere around the third year you were married.

"I trusted you," she starts again, sounding calmer. Less shaken, but still frayed at the edges. "I told how I feel about you. I told you I wouldn't— Couldn't... survive without you."

"So your solution is to divorce me now?" you scoff. "Tell me, how does that makes sense?"

"Because I have loved exactly two people in my life, Clarke... And this way? At least I won't have to bury one of them."

It's like a bucket of goddamn ice water has just been upturned over your head.

You can't help but stare at her, dumbfounded.

Because you are... so fucking stupid.

Your heart twists and it pounds and for a split second you wonder if you're having a heart attack, or if maybe this is what they mean when they talk about broken heart syndrome. Because nothing has ever hurt this bad. Nothing has ever devastated you as much this tidal wave of guilt. Nothing has ever scared you; made you feel this kind of shame so deep in your bones.

And when she drops her hands like she's given up and turns toward the door, you almost feel like you're going to throw up with the way your stomach clenches in a fresh wave of terrified dread. You want nothing more than to pop up and run over to her and explain and just fix this, but your hip and your leg and you just—You just...

You did this.

You did all of this.

"Okay," you damn near yell, sounding distinctly like a wounded animal to your own ears.

She pulls to a stop and snaps back around, "Okay, what?"

"I said... okay."

"Okay, what?"

"Okay, I'll fucking get rid of them," you bite right back again, desperate and annoyed and shaking so badly it's making your shoulder ache.

She stares at you, placid and unmoved.

"All of them?"

You grit your jaw and blow a breath out. "All of them... The dangerous ones at least."

She clicks her tongue and starts to turn away when you yell—

"You have to compromise with me here!"

She wheels back around with thunder in her eyes and a snarl already twisting her lips.

You know you have never needed to talk faster in your life.

"The ones that aren't street legal, they're gone, okay? Nothing that is actually dangerous stays. But I'm not getting rid of the ones that are perfectly safe, and, Lexa, I'm not getting rid of my grandfather's car. It's the only thing I have from my fucked up family that means anything to me, and it's mine, and it's not fair of you to even consider making me get rid of it."

"You hate that fucking thing—"

"I don't hate it, I love that car! That car changed my life! That car got me you."

You watch the rage bleed out of her as she slumps at the shoulders.

She runs a hand through the controlled chaos of her hair.

"That car did not get you me, Clarke," she strains out in a sigh, sounding tired and beautifully frail. "We're married because I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. Because I fell in love with you. Because I'm in love with you."

It makes your heart squeeze tight all over again.

"Maybe, but you wanted that car before you ever wanted me—"

"That is not true," she cuts you off in a hush of a whisper.

She stares at you with eyes clouded with devastation and hurt, and for the life of you, you don't know how to fix it.

You never seem to know how to...

The air between you feels frozen for a long moment before she seems to make up her mind about something all at once.

She shakes her head as she crosses the room in quick, elegant strides and drops to her knees right in front of you.

"Listen to me," she says, and tenderly - so tenderly - takes your least injured hand and folds it into her own. "There are so many things I regret about my life. But making that bet, and losing it, are not included. Half of the reason I ever even wanted that car to begin with was because of how attracted to you I was whenever I saw you in it."

Your scoff is loud enough to give your concussion addled brain another headache. "You are such a liar, Lexa."

Your belly swoops when she flits that damn eyebrow up in challenge.

"While I appreciate your assessment of my moral virtues," she practically purrs, "on this, darling, you happen to be wrong... All that windswept blonde hair? The way you looked like you owned everyone and everything in those shaders that you'd so carelessly slip down before pulling away?"

You wonder if you even still have those sunglasses as she bites her lip and lets her eyes run the length of you.

You'll have to check the next time you can walk properly.

Maybe have them make a reappearance at your next brunch date.

Just for old time's sake.

The hand holding yours squeezes gently.

"You were so damn cocky. The way you'd throw that thing in park and hop out. You'd just toss your keys at the doorman like you didn't care about anything. I hated it so much," she laughs with a rueful grin that slips into something entirely more fond. "And yet I could never seem to make myself stop staring at you, darling."

Even after all these years of marriage, the thought of younger her having wanted younger you...

You shift at the throb that weakly pulses between your thighs.

"So... You made the bet because... you thought I was sexy in my car?"

"I made the bet because I thought you were entirely too full of yourself," she corrects, "which I still believe. But I wanted the car because I'd envisioned getting fucked in it more times than I could count."

God you love it when she gets vulgar.

She reaches up and brushes a curl away from your forehead.

"It just took me a little while longer to realize that the person I had been imagining fucking me was - annoyingly - very much you."

You know your smile is kind of dopey right now rather than the teasing slope that you're aiming for, but later when you look back on this moment, you'll definitely blame it on the drugs.

"So our marriage is based off you wanting me to top you in my grandfather's car?"

Her faces pulls up in distaste. "No. It's based off the fact that you are—"

She pauses and exhales something from deep in her chest, her eyes closing under the weight of whatever it is she's feeling as she finally trembles out,

"That you are everything to me."

You really really really kind of hate that you're injured in that moment, because when she opens her eyes they glisten with a lovely wet sheen. And you just want nothing more than to scoop her up and hold her in your arms. Because it's where she belongs. It's where she's always been meant to be...

"You're everything to me too, baby," you say because she is and she should know it, and you really need to remember to say it more often. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Lexa, I didn't— I didn't mean to..."

She nods when you can't find the words and kisses the bruised ridge of your knuckles.

Rests her forehead there for a moment as though in prayer.

When she looks at you again she's already pulled herself back together.

That's part of why you love her so much.

Always unbreakable.

Except... when it comes to you.

You have no idea what to do with that knowledge, but you know you'd give up anything just to keep it.

And you love her so much that it makes you smile. It makes you smile, because you just want to see her smile at you again. Always.

"Hey," you say, tossing in a lazy wink because you know she hates it. "You totally had a crush on me."

She rolls her eyes. "You're an idiot."

"You had a cuh-ruuuuush on me."

"Clarke. I am married to you—"

"Still," you snort. "Loser."

Her sigh of resignation is so weary it fills your heart close to bursting with how much love you have for this woman.

Because she doesn't fight you on that. Just leans her forehead against yours and nods, kissing your lips soft enough to not make the cut on them bleed again. Her nose brushes against yours in a sweet moment of aching tenderness, and when she pulls back to look at you beneath the fall of her lashes, the whole world is once again nothing but her.

"We'll go through each one together," she says somewhere between a question and a statement.

You nod in agreement, just to be safe.

"Anything remotely questionable, goes."

You heave a sigh but dutifully nod again.

"That means anything without the right mirrors, or proper turning signals. Engines that might blow up for no reason. Anything that was recalled decades ago. Anything with brakes that have a habit of failing... Anything that doesn't have fucking seat belts."

As her list grows you mentally tick off a good two-thirds of your collection.

You glance at her lips and remember how they feel against yours first thing in the morning, and simply nod again.

"Fine. But also? You can't just start threatening divorce every time you want me to do something, you know," you murmur still, because while you're compromising here... you really feel the need to remind her that she's not domesticating you or anything.

She doesn't seem remotely affected by your pout when she just shrugs and grins and leans forward.

You feel distinctly like a puppy on a leash when she pecks a placating kiss to your lips.

And then another to the tip of your nose.

"We'll see."

[gotchibam]

Hi! I’m the anon who asked about brushes just now, but I found that you already answered a similar ask a while back. I use Procreate, do you know of any similar (preferably free but not necessarily) brushes for that? If not, do you know what kinds of terms I should be using to search for similar brushes? (HUGE fan of your art btw. It always makes me smile when I see it on my dash :3)

Hello!! I don't use procreate but I did a little bit of digging and found some cool free procreate brushes here! (you can search for similar ones by looking for "dry ink brushes")

I think the first three brushes from the 2021 set (esp. the kaveri ink) looks pretty good as alternative to the one I'm using :3

[myokk]

When will you release new chapters on Ao3 🥲

Hi!!

I'M ACTUALLY ALMOST DONE WITH THE NEXT CHAPTER​🥹​🙏​ I'M SORRY IT'S TAKEN SO LONG...I just checked and I haven't updated since May 1st​😫​ this chapter is really crazy...and I've been having lots of difficulty pulling everything together and writing well😔🙏

Here's a little excerpt...​💓​

Her father barely gave her time to get to her feet, legs still shaking and fingers visibly trembling before he would cast that terrible spell again: Legilimens.

Eloise found that she could last a few seconds, staring defiantly into her father’s eyes, before it would become too much and she would collapse. She vaguely wondered if everyone felt the same when their memories were invaded so, or if it were just another show of her disgusting weakness.

She could tell that her father was holding back today. He wasn’t ripping into her memories and tearing them up like he had been the day before; this time, he was focusing specifically on the same group of memories that had to do with the day she was removed from their family and banished. Maybe it was curiosity for how she perceived the day, but whatever it was, Eloise hated reliving the worst day of her life over and over again. The day she had lost everything. The day it had been confirmed to her that she didn’t belong, would never belong. (Of course, before it had happened, she had long-sensed it coming: more and more frequently, she had spent entire weeks in her room, alone, without being able to leave.)

The emotions burning and tearing her apart were going to leave only a charred husk of herself in their parlor if they kept this up for much longer. It had been so long since she had thought about that day, and she would have preferred to never remember it again. If she thought her memories had faded since they happened, she had quickly learned that the assumption was erroneous.

“You need to clear your mind of all emotions, fool girl,” her father spat. Eloise took advantage of the fact he was talking to collapse into an armchair to her right. The bright light of the late morning was filtering through the windows and even though it was the end of October, it felt warm. She sat with her head cradled in her hands, not caring that she was being frightfully disrespectful by not looking up at him with her usual composure. Sweat trickled down her neck, her breathing was uneven. “How could a daughter of mine let herself get so carried away by hysteria? You’re a Babbit. So show me. Get up.”

Eloise got to her feet and shuffled over to stand in front of her father again. She tried to clear out her mind. Compartmentalize and fold everything that made her her into a small, tiny, insignificant thing that could be shoved into a corner. Picture a smooth pond, a drop of dew from a leaf suspended above, slowly rolling off the leaf and falling into the center of the pond, the ripples slowly circling out perfectly and look…there…was another perfect drop, about to fall into the middle of the pond and -

Loud, shaking footsteps came closer and disturbed the peaceful stillness of the pond and all of a sudden she was being tossed around by huge waves, salt and bile filling her mouth and she couldn’t breath, and then she was eleven years old and gasping for breath and bleeding on the very floor she was currently lying on, five years later.

Eloise was at her father’s mercy once again. She couldn’t move. Imprisoned inside her mind.

Her parents were both looming over her, an unimaginable disgust she had never seen before marring both of their beautiful faces. Theirs had always been a cold beauty - faces carved from marble, cut-glass features and generally impassive. She couldn’t make out the words they were hissing at her, but the hatred was something tangible that she could feel and it would stick with her forever. It was an oppressive and dark and overwhelming feeling. Her mother raised her wand, no doubt to cast another -

But her father grabbed her mother’s hand and whispered something in her ear. She nodded and slowly lowered her wand, and then they were both gone. Eloise doesn’t know how long she had laid there, bleeding and gasping, before Leo burst through the door, face wild. He had only finished his first year of Hogwarts - was only twelve-about-to-turn-thirteen, and yet it was on his shoulders to try and nurse his sister back to life. Loli appeared and silently assisted, holding her healing hands over the cuts as Leo cleared away the blood.

Eloise had remained silent the whole time, swallowing up any tears that threatened to spill out and staring up at her brother with solemn eyes. They both knew it was the last time they would ever see each other, and she had already ruined it enough with the blood. She opened her mouth to speak, to say something, try to reassure him that it - that she - would be okay, but no words came out.

“I expect you to continue practicing your Occlumency,” her father said as he extracted himself from her mind and looked down at her with disgust.

[widevibratobitch]

ur pretty cool 😊

tell me more...

[misstictart]

I love everyone you drew in your Simpson style!

any chance you'll draw the mobsters again?

Thank you so much, it's very much appreciated, especially lately!! ;u;/ As for the mobsters, I definitely want to draw them again, I just need to find some ideas to involve them on their own or with my OCs... We shall see, but don't worry, I adore these guys and will absolutely draw them again someday (as well as members I haven't drawn yet like Jonnhy Tightlips, Frankie the Squealer or even lil Michael! 🥺) In the meantime, have this ♥

[takitori67]

i need more of your junao sleeping. he’s so 🥺

You asked and I delivered 👌

Also as you mentioned it, I just realized how much I (love to) draw Junao snoozing/being sleepy lol. He's soooooooo patootie ❤❤❤

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

I just can't get over how Tails spied on Sonic in the bath via satellite in the movies (and enjoyed the view. He knew what he was doing). They (probably unintentionally) giving us shippers fuel ❤️👀

Listen listen, anon

Anon

I think about some of those tidbits from Sonic Movie 2 all the time

I mean it's not as if this is out of character for Tails (given that he more explicitly just kind of straight up stalked Sonic in the backstory in Japan's version of the Sonic 2 manual) but man

This really is not to mention the way Sonic feigns uncomfortability/disgust when he's like "You even watch me in the shower??", and then when Tails doesn't even skip a beat explaining that he knows Sonic takes bubble baths Sonic full 180s into "Wow!😊". Just full on impressed with how extensively Tails has been watching him

Like they just dropped on us "Tails watches Sonic constantly like it's the Sonic show, no matter how private or intimate the moment" and "by all rights Sonic is perfectly okay with the knowledge of this behavior" and expected us to be normal about it?😂

I could probably make an entire post logging Sonic movie 2's sontails shipping fuel honestly

Honarable mention of a scene is when Maddie starts looking through Tails' backpack of inventions and comments "This fox is into some freaky stuff!"

Interesting connotations there

Anyways😂

[marshmallowgoop]

Repostober Day 29 | 29 Years

Detective Conan began its serialization in Shonen Sunday 29 years ago, and it's still going strong!

I think this is the first Cone I ever drew, in December 2012. At the time, I had no idea that several years in the future, this series would become so dear to me—and would introduce me to so many wonderful people!

[calmlb]

i'm just sitting here rereading the latest chapter of your babyzai fic for the 3rd time and i keep coming back to that one scene in which chuuya and yosano discuss babyzai's more-than-a-little-concerning silence. every time i read it i end up giggling and kicking my feet thinking about chuuya's future reaction whenever babyzai /does/ say something. obviously i don't know what your plans are, but my current bet is that his "first word" is going to be chuuya's name (or a variation of it) simply because - how cute would that be? i actually thought babyzai was going to call out to chuuya on that last chapter when he started crying and reaching out after the dissociation episode. the fact it didn't happen is just making me MORE excited wondering when it might happen!!

AHHHHH I CANT TELL YOU HOW HAPPY THIS ASK MADE ME 🥺🩷🩷

omg yes, it was so hard to not let babyzai call out to Chuuya last chapter 😫 like that’s exactly the direction my ✨writer flow✨ was leading me, but i’m so glad to hear that the choice to hold off has paid off & made the anticipation build 🥹

the moment babyzai speaks for the first time (& what he says) has been one of the things i’ve been most excited to write since planning this fic, so tysm for looking forward to it too 😭🩷🫶🏻

i don’t want to give anything away, but let’s just say that that moment may be coming sooner than you think 🤭

[angeart]

ALSO

whats the context for the burning picture? its not their nest that burned down that was sad? is that while theyre still in the permadeath world? i assume so since it mentions retribution? is this something to do with the vex arc we havent seen but obviously made things worse in new and different ways? can we appreciate how cool that art is and how impactful that scene feels even though i don't know whats going on entirely?

the burning drawing isn't one of their nest! the nest they will have at some point is built in a meadow, and it's high off the ground, built up, to cater to grian's instincts that he kept stifling for so long. (remember, he can't fly. he yearns to be high up, but can't.)

the burny burny from the art does happen while they're still in the permadeath server. it's a deliberate decision grian and scar make. they're not burning anything that belongs to them.

i will be writing a ramble about it at some point, so look out for that! :3 (if you look at the hhau masterpost, you might even spot a placeholder for it ready in the outline—)

i will say, it does happen during the vex arc. but it's not actually important, as no vexes get mentioned. it's an event solely between scar and grian, and i'm excited to tell you guys about it, but i need some time <3

aND. WAH. OKAY. i did not expect the art appreciation after all the questions 🥺🥺🥺🥺 thank youuu!! i wasn't sure how well i'd be able to draw the scene but i'm pretty happy with the results, so hearing you affirm that really helps me feel good about it <333

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

Do you think Gojo or Nobara would be angry if you decided to distance yourself from them because they can't reciprocate your feelings?

ANONNNN 🥺🥺 tysm for indulging me on this topic….. i’m extremely abnormal about them…….

i think nobara would be kinda pissed. very pissed. she’s just frustrated about the whole ordeal :((( she’s frustrated with you and your feelings and she’s frustrated with herself and her lack of those feelings . most of all, she’s frustrated that you’re pulling away from her like this!! she treasures you so sincerely and she just . doesn’t want to lose you. unlike gojo she’ll do the emotionally mature thing and confront you one way or another — it might not exactly fix things, but she makes sure that the two of you leave no words unsaid. you’re her friend and she loves you. she just wants to see you smile, and it breaks her heart to know that she’s the reason you aren’t.

gojo though… i don’t think he’d be angry. because he gets it. he’s emotionally mature in a much colder way than nobara is — mature in the sense that he’s accepted your feelings, accepted his lack of those feelings, and accepted the fact that things won’t be the same after he rejects you. i think it hurts him a bit (because he really does care for you!!), but only a little bit, because he’s just. so good at isolating himself from his own negative emotions. he’s still friendly with you, still very much wants things to be the same as always — but he understands and accepts that things aren’t that simple. he won’t force you to be a part of his life, but he’s not going to stop smiling whenever your eyes meet either.

[httpiastri]

hope ure doing okayy and feeling a bit better than before!! here’s a perfectly fine thought to think about bc i can’t stop thinking about it:

yn and paul being we can’t be friends (wait for your love) by ariana grande coded 🫠🫠 imagine after the breakup and paul and yn are on okay and friendly terms again, but every time paul talks to yn the voices in my head are literally screaming and cursing and crying, telling him he can’t be just friends with her!!!!!! but every time she talks to him or something he just thinks… “i’ll settle on the thought of being her friend even though i no longer have her as my lover. that much is good enough for me” even if it breaks his heart over and over again every time he thinks about it. LIKE the thought of having just one teeny tiny space in her life is better than nothing at all…. he’d really rather have CRUMBS of her :(

“How could you ever even try? I don't wanna tiptoe, but I don't wanna hide But I don't wanna feed this monstrous fire Just wanna let this story die And I'll be alright

We can't be friends But I'd like to just pretend You cling to your papers and pens Wait until you like me again

Wait for your love Love, I'll wait for your love”

… LOOK ME IN THE EYES AND TELL ME ITS NOT YN AND PAUL. ☹️ hold me im so fragile rn.

omfggggg!! i ADORE this ask and i ADORE you!!!!!!

i hadn’t listened to this song before this ask but… ive been streaming it nonstop now, thinking about paul and yn 🫠 because it’s SO yn & paul coded omgggg. you’re a genius 🙏🙏

the thing im thinking about paul and yn is that their relationship is so complex, just like the song paints it out to be. they know they don’t wanna live without each other in their lives, and they’d rather have just a piece than nothing at all. but they also know they can’t just be friends, their bond is too strong and their past is too passionate to for them just to be able to go back to being only friends. it's definitely especially hard for them in the beginning, like... im still in love with you, how am i supposed to just be your friend?

like u said, even crumbs is better than nothing... even seeing her smile across the paddock makes paul so happy... and just seeing him on the podium in bahrain makes her happy too :(

"i dont wanna argue, but i don't wanna bite my tongue" – being so sick of their fighting all the time when they were still together, but also not wanting to just go along with it...

and just "wait for your love"........ that line hits me the hardest :( they're both just waiting for the day when they can love each other again :(((

[allastoredeer]

MORE HEARTS

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You deserve them

I eating all these hearts. Thank you for the meal 😍