#edit: it’s kind of like that feeling when you don’t know what to draw except really bad and about everything

[hp-hcs]

call me black friday, 'cause i just got a helluva BOGO deal (pt 2 of this fic with the long-ass title) — overprotective! simp! riddle brothers x gender neutral! muggleborn! reader

well, gang, i finally did it. ten months later, and i've finally blessed you plebians with a part 2. after the immediate success of pt 1, i had no clue where to take this story, since i'd originally written it to be a standalone, so i just. didn't. whoops.

1.9k words

⚠️will not make sense unless you've read part 1!!!⚠️

warnings: it gets a little awkwardly raunchy? idk reader is just the most self-conscious thing on the planet, drinking, reader consumes alcohol, mild descriptions of wounds, discussed past violence/murder, kissing/making out while under the influence of alcohol, lotta background ships, is it ooc if they're not even canon characters? tom's voldemort's son in this one so he's just an amalgamation of ideas & also not canon

not edited

for the love of god please comment. fic authors thrive off comments and comments alone.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“The rules are simple,” Pansy said, clapping her hands together. “When it’s your turn, you spin the bottle in a circle. You have to kiss whoever the mouth of the bottle points to. It’s enchanted to land on the person you’re most romantically compatible with, and the bottle will become stuck in place until you kiss them.”

“I feel like that kind of defeats the point of Spin the Bottle,” you muttered to Hermione, who stifled a giggle. “Half the fun is seeing people who aren’t compatible kiss.”

But even Gryffindor’s token good girl elbowed you and dragged you over to the forming circle on the floor. Pansy, having crowned herself as the moderator of the game (mostly because no one else cared), went first. 

The party was being thrown in the Slytherin common room, in the Riddles’ honor. Although no one would ever dare snitch, everyone knew that what had happened to those two Gryffindor guys the week prior was directly linked to the Dark Lord’s sons. Even Harry, who didn’t condone murder (except for when he did it *ahem* Quirrell *ahem*), was willing to look the other way for the sake of those two known bullies’ untimely deaths. 

You’d finally been released from the infirmary wing, although your trunk was still completely wrapped in bandages and it hurt to move. You sat on one of the common room throw pillows instead of the bare floor, your aching body already protesting.

You forgot all about your aches and pains as the game started, though. Begrudgingly, you had to admit that the magical version was a lot more interesting. Or at least, there were fewer arguments and fights. 

(Cue lots of “aww”s when Pansy’s initial spin had the bottle landing on Neville Longbottom.)

Money exchanged hands from years-long bets when Harry Potter’s turn ended with him kissing Theodore Nott, and even more money was exchanged when Draco’s spin landed on Hermione.

Despite having made fun of the game earlier, your palms were sweaty as you leaned forward to spin the bottle. The glass Ogden’s bottle pirouetted for a moment before slowing, finally settling in place.

The common room went dead silent.

“Who’s it on? Who’s it on?” asked Seamus impatiently, ducking under his boyfriend’s arm to get a better view. 

“I… don’t know,” said Pansy, drawing her wand to cast a simple straight line charm. The magic glowing blue line sprouts from the neck of the bottle, casting outward and hitting the wall instead of a body.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Harry scratched his head. “That looks exactly halfway to me.”

Mattheo and Tom were both staring at the blue line that had landed right between the two of them.

“Welp, them’s the rules.” Theo shrugged tipsily, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist and holding the Gryffindor in his lap. “Pucker up, L/n.”

Knocking your cup back for a boost of liquid courage, you gingerly clambered over stray legs and half-crushed red solo cups, trying not to injure yourself further as you made your way to the Riddles. Blaise Zabini offered you a hand to keep you steady as you crossed the circle.

Mattheo’s eyes were as round as saucers as you approached, his hands fluttering uncertainly over your waist as you settled on the floor in front of both boys. Tom had no such qualms, immediately reaching out to rest a ring-laden hand on your thigh. 

“Who wears a blazer to a party?” was the first thing out of your mouth as you took hold of Tom’s lapel. The usually stern man’s lips quirked up at the corners into a slightly dopey smile. You doubted that anyone else present even noticed it except for you and his brother, but you knew immediately that he was tipsy.

“Me, darling,” Tom murmured softly, his hand wandering further up your thigh. He gently rubbed his thumb against your inner thigh in a reassuring gesture. “Is this okay?”

You returned his gesture by resting a hand on his cheek and brushing your thumb against the corner of his mouth.

“Yes,” you whispered breathlessly. You didn’t hesitate after that, leaning forward and connecting your lips. You could faintly hear some of your friends letting out obligatory ooooohs, but you ignored them.

His kiss was uncertain: slow but deliberate. At some point his other hand had come up to cup your cheek, and you could feel the cold metal of his rings pressing into your skin.

When you finally pulled away for air, Tom’s mouth tried to chase yours. 

You turned to his brother, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him in for his turn.

Mattheo’s lips were slightly chapped. Distantly, you wondered if the wizarding world had Chapstick. Your fingers tangled in the soft curls at the base of his neck, your noses bumping into each other clumsily. You both giggled, and you felt his lips turn up into a grin against your own.

There was cheering from the other partygoers, who were happy to move on to the next victim of the bottle. But even as the game resumed, you found yourself sandwiched between the two brothers. You found you had no desire to return to your original spot across the circle. You and your boys were quickly forgotten as the group became focused on Blaise and Luna kissing, leaving you three in your own private bubble.

~~~

The revelry of the night continued without any further hiccups. While Tom had sobered up a bit—after all, he was still Head Boy, and therefore technically required to be responsible—Mattheo had continued to drink. A lot.

And he was sloshed.

At some point, he’d started kissing you again on the Slytherin common room couch. He was mostly just slobbering all over your lips, clumsily smooshing your faces together the way a child does with Barbies.

“That’s enough of that,” Tom grunted in displeasure, seemingly appearing out of nowhere to wrangle in his brother’s behavior. “C’mon, Romeo, up you get. Time for bed, before you do something you’ll regret.” He manhandled his younger brother up off of you and hoisted Mattheo over his shoulder. The younger Riddle just laughed, trying to pat his brother’s head in thanks, but ended up missing his target and accidentally smacking Tom in the ear. 

You reluctantly got up from the common room couch, trailing behind them as Tom carried his brother upstairs to their shared dorm.

Shutting the door behind you, you watched as he dumped Mattheo onto his bed, sighing as he got to work untying his brother’s beat up Converse. “Drunk idiot,” Tom muttered.

You laughed, coming over to help Tom undress Mattheo. Drunk Mattheo did not want to be of any help, so trying to wrestle his jacket off was like trying to undress a dead fish. When you reached for the buckle of his belt, he leered up at you. 

“Trying to get in my pants, pretty thing? S’alright, you don’t gotta be sneaky about it. Just ask, an’ I’ll give you the world.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Riddle,” you drawled. “You’d be expected to beg for that.”

“I love to beg.”

“For fucks sake, Matt, shut up!” Tom hissed, lightly smacking his shoulder. “You can flirt when you’re sober. Now is not the time.”

Dragging his jeans down his narrow hips, you steadfastly averted your gaze to literally anything other than your best-friend-slash-crush’s half-naked body. Since when did Hogwarts’ stone walls become so interesting?

“Tommy?” you heard Mattheo say in a soft and small voice you’d never heard before as you busied yourself with folding his jeans into a perfect square, just to have something to do other than stare at Mattheo’s body. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

Tom sighed affectionately once he was done redressing his brother in a clean shirt and a pair of pajama pants, making your lips quirk up in a small smile at the sight of the little cartoony quidditch players zipping across the charmed fabric. Tom leaned down to comb sweaty curls out of Mattheo’s face and press a kiss to his brother’s forehead. “Always, Matty.”

“Can Y/n join us?” he asked in that same soft voice.

Tom hesitated, turning to glance at your stiff and awkward figure. “Y/n? Would you mind joining us tonight?”

“Join you?” you spluttered, dropping the folded jeans square on the floor in surprise. Your voice sounded a bit strangled as explicit images filled your mind. No, no! Not the time, Y/n! Get it together!

“To cuddle?” he clarified, raising an eyebrow at your sudden clumsiness.

“Oh! Uh. Yeah. Of course.” You hurriedly turn away to take off your shoes, cheeks bright red in embarrassment.

When had you started thinking about your friends like that? you wondered.

With a wave of his wand, the older Riddle had managed to transfigure Mattheo’s bed into one a full size larger. “You want some different clothes to sleep in? I can find you some stuff.”

“Sure, that’d be great,” you mumbled. Tom nodded, opening one of Mattheo’s dresser drawers—which was a mess; half-open drawers puking socks and t-shirts onto the floor. Seemingly knowing how to make sense of the disaster, he immediately located what he was looking for and tugged it out.

“Here– you can wear these as shorts. They’re clean, I promise.” He tossed you a wadded up ball of fabric as he wandered over to his own armoire—everything inside was neatly pressed and hung according to color—to find you a shirt.

Instead of questioning why he wouldn’t just give you one of Mattheo’s shirts when he’d literally just been at the younger boy’s dresser—instead purposefully giving you a piece of clothing from each of them—you just unfold the ball of fabric in your hands. 

Oh, Lord.

Boxers. 

He’d given you a pair of Mattheo’s boxers to wear. The really loose kind, plaid in pattern. They reminded you of those muggle Fruit of the Loom kind you always saw in the non-magical stores back home. You gulped when Tom returned with one of his worn-soft casual button-ups. 

“Will you help me with my T-shirt?” you murmured quietly, not wanting to disturb Mattheo, whose eyes were clearly growing heavy as his breathing began to even out.

Tom nodded, waiting for your nod of permission before reaching out for your shirt. He carefully maneuvered the soft fabric up over your bandaged torso, chucking it onto the nearby desk chair once it was off. His fingers hovered over your bandaged ribs, where a line of red-brown had seeped through. Tom’s expression hardened and his jaw set. 

“We should’ve made them suffer longer,” he hissed, eyes tracing the tail of one of your wounds that peeked out of the top of your bandages and sliced across your collarbone.

He then dressed you, buttoning up his large shirt on your smaller frame. He politely averted his gaze, changing into his own pajamas, as you slipped off your bottoms and traded them out for the boxers. 

Tom helped you into bed, so as to not jostle your injured torso too much. You laid on one side of Mattheo while Tom laid on the other. Even with his excellent transfiguration of the mattress, Mattheo’s body still took up most of it, starfished out across the entire bed. 

Once you’d settled into bed, you whispered, “G’night, Tom,” so softly, you’d assumed he hadn’t heard it.

After a long moment of silence, you heard a quiet, “Goodnight, Y/n,” before Tom snuffed out the lamp on the bedside table.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

hey so fun fact i actually hate this

people who wanted a pt 2 like a year ago or requested it from my recent poll lol:

@babyyd0llll @leona-hawthorne @siriuslyobsessedwithfiction @justyourlocalfriendlydinosaur @yufufuyu-mindy-dreamon @pleasantlycrazyworld @amell333 @evanescentlover @like3gremlinsinatrenchcoat @slytherinboysappreciation

[roryssgf]

Fangs and feelings (Rory Keaner X Human!reader)

Warnings : none, I think :p

Masterlist!

When I got assigned, I didn’t expect much from tutoring. Maybe a few late nights explaining fractions, maybe some awkward silences.But what I didn’t expect was Rory Keaner.

“So wait, if x equals 3, then why does it still show up in the next problem?” he asked, pencil tucked behind his ear like a pro—except it was upside down and had somehow poked a hole in his hoodie.

I sighed, gently flipping his notebook around. “Because this is a different x, Rory. They don’t carry over. It’s not Minecraft.”

“Ohhh,” he said, like that solved every mystery of the universe. “Right. Got it. New x, who dis.”

He grinned, and despite myself... I laughed. Rory was... strange. But sweet. And he seemed to genuinely like spending time with me—even if he sometimes got distracted and tried to draw superhero capes on the math problems.

Still, i noticed things.

Like how he never ate garlic bread in the cafeteria. Or how he flinched whenever someone opened a curtain too fast. And that one time his reflection didn’t show in the school’s trophy case—just my face looking back at me, confused.

I didn’t say anything, tho. Not until the vending machine incident.

It was after a late tutoring session. We had been craving a snack, and unfortunately, my bag of chips had gotten stuck in the machine. I smacked it. Shook it. Groaned.

Rory, behind me, puffed up his chest. “Step aside. I got this.”

I turned around just in time to see him literally lift the machine off the ground with one arm and tilt it until the bag dropped.

He froze. I stared. What the freak?

“I—uh—new protein powder?” he offered weakly.

“Rory.” he knew I wasn't having any of it, at all.

“Okay, fine,” he blurted. “I’m a vampire!”

He must be joking... Right? Right?

“You’re a what?!” I ask absolute flabbergasted.

“A vampire. Like… movies. But not evil! I don’t drink people or anything. I tried once and passed out. Not my thing. I’m more of a juice box kind of guy.”

I laughed—half because i thought he was joking, and half because if he wasn’t... it made sense.

And then came the scream.

A shriek from outside the school building. We both ran out and saw a figure—pale, glowing red eyes, snarling at a poor freshman.

What the fuck is happening?!

“Oh man,” Rory groaned. “That guy’s from the Night School. He’s... not supposed to be here.”

I stood there, stunned, until Rory stepped in front of you, arms wide.

“Stay behind me. I know I’m not a cool vampire like Jesse or a chosen one like Ethan. I’m more like... a discount Dracula. But I’m not letting anything touch you.”

Awe how cute, if I weren't on a life or death situation . I would've blushed SO hard.

Before I could reply, Rory rushed in—awkward, ungraceful, but fearless. He got tossed a few feet, of course, but he still managed to distract the attacker long enough for a teacher (who turned out to be a witch?) to banish the rogue vampire.

When the dust settled, Rory limped over to me...

Want to do another pairing next?

I helped him up and smirked. “Only if you promise to never lift a vending machine again. Seriously, that was terrifying.”

He laughed. “Deal. Also... I like you. A lot. Like, more than I like math. Which is saying something, because I hate math.” he said , noticeable shy.

I leaned in and kissed his cheek—right next to the tiny fang mark he'd accidentally given himself biting into a juice box.

“I like you too, Rory. Even if you are the knockoff brand.” I laughed, but I really mean it.

“Hey!” he said, mock offended. “I’m limited edition.”

“But still wanna tutor me?” he asked, wincing but smiling.

“ofc!”

[inquisimer]

For arlow and viago 😭 ❛ i don’t want to understand, i want you to stay. ❜

THANK YOUUUUUUU I am ALL up in my feels about them ;-; this is set well pre-canon, right after Arlow is released from (my version of) "how not to get possessed" Crow Edition

Arlow de Riva & Viago | 972 words | cw: implied/referenced torture, child abuse | @dadrunkwriting - veilguard

-

She is ragged, rubbed raw when they dump her on the stoop of Viago's estate. They rap on the door, once, twice, three times, because she could not lift an arm to do it herself. And then they leave her there, shivering and utterly drained, still bleeding where the manacles had held her. Still aching where the Fade had dug its claws into her.

But she is alive. That is more than most of the others can say.

Viago opens the door himself--of course he does, because he does not employ a staff, would not give anyone such access, no matter how thoroughly vetted. She wonders, as a soft string of curses fall from his lips, how they even knew to leave her here. Its location is a closely guarded secret.

(She will never know about the gold and threats exchanged, when first she was taken. As soon as she has passed, he insisted. Not a moment longer.)

His arms are gentle, slotting carefully under her legs and at her shoulders; he is trying to avoid the bruises, the welts, the weeping wounds. If she could find her voice, she would tell him not to bother--there is nowhere that does not ache, in some shape or form. But he is trying, and she focuses on that, rather than how the world spins as he lifts her, carries her down the hallway to a familiar room. It is not hers, but she spends a great deal of time here, being poked and prodded--poisoned--pressed for answers and learning how to describe what he needs to know.

The cot she usually sits on is made up with softer blankets and pillows than is typical. As if it were waiting for her, and knew that she would not be in a state for the harsh, cold crinkle of paper. But that is foolish--there is no one in the estate except Viago, and Viago is not the type to prepare such creature comforts. If her mind were not so muddled--

She blinks, and Viago presses a vial to her lips. He does not need to tell her to drink; she lets him tip it down her throat without hesitation. Bitter elfroot, and acidity. At her side, over her knuckles, and where it is seeping down her temple, blood clots as her skin knits itself back together. Though the gash over her shoulder blade only gets about two-thirds of the way there, and she knows that it will be a scar.

Experimentally, she reaches for it with her magic. It is new, this power within her, and awkward like a third arm, or second tongue. It is also weak, drained by the price the Crows have exacted. But she has paid it--she is alive. She has been judged, and not found wanting.

For once. Perhaps for the last time.

"Stop that," Viago snaps, as if he can sense that she is pushing past limits that have long since been flattened. "You will make it worse."

The tendril of mana blinks out into nothing. He cuts her ruined tunic away, pursing his lips together as each snip reveals bruises, burns, and more ribs than he'd been able to see three weeks ago. But he is not surprised. Necessary, as so many painful things are. When the pain fades, confidence will take root--in confidence, safety.

With short, clinical strokes, he cleans her skin and a tiny sigh parts Arlow's lips. She has nearly forgotten what it is like to be touched with an intention that is kind.

He takes his time. Tends each of the wounds with the appropriate salve, or balm, or serum. His gloved hands are more gentle than they have ever been when he urges her to lean forward, but he offers no apology when he draws the needle through her flesh, sealing another mark into her skin.

When he is finished, he wraps her in fresh clothes and brings her to rest before the fire. Hands her another potion, diluted this time, and gives strict instructions to sip, slowly.

Despite the fire, despite the ghost of his care lingering over her skin, Arlow feels a chill. This is the part where he leaves. She knows--understands, even. So much more than a child should have to. Of all the ways Viago covers his skin, he has never treated her with kid gloves.

She does not want him to leave. But it is not her place to ask him to stay.

Her eyes drift closed; for a moment, her heart stutters, afraid of the darkness that waits behind her lids. But the fire makes it warm and orange; the cold and dank to which she has been relegated remains firmly--if a bit too near--in her memory.

In that halfway place between waking and sleep, she imagines tender hands tucking a blanket around her. Shifting her on the pillow so that her neck will not be so terribly cricked in the morning. It is nice of her mind, to cushion her recovery with such niceties.

Gloved knuckles brush a stray hair back behind her ear. A softness that she will not remember in the morning, nearly gone to the Fade already as she is. Which is why he offers it, of course.

"Well done, parajito," Viago murmurs. She will not remember that, either, or the smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth. When he is stern and exacting in the morning, she will not remember that he was proud of her, or relieved to have her back under his purview.

But that does not change the fact--he is.

He tucks the blanket more snugly under her chin, smooths the wrinkles over her legs. For the first time in three weeks, she is resting easy--and he leaves, for the first time in three weeks, to do the same.

[wallys-left-eyeball]

ok after two (edit: 3.5) hours i am finally done viewing what i THINK is the whole update. my thoughts and a few significant things i noticed!!!!! (spoilers obviously)

disclaimer: i’m a crazy welcome home fan but my memory is literally so bad, so please point out if i’m digging deep into some detail that’s been there since last update or however long ago 💀 eddie’s my fav for a reason bless (this mess)

🍎 they publicly executed wally in the town square :( no but seriously what. so far he is removed from the main page’s opening graphic, main page’s bottom banner, and welcome home page’s top drawing (which has been renamed to “_and_barnaby”

🍎 on that note, on the neighborhood page, wally’s canvas is gone and he is no longer looking at us. on top of that, the button to leave says “go back” and his “that’s the most!” audio was replaced with a freaky distorted phone ringing.

🍎 this could be something i just hadn’t noticed before, but remember when the old stickers page had that one gif that, when you opened it, would rotate between the characters’ eyes faster and faster until it would linger on wally’s eyes? that gif is completely normal now. it still lingers on wally’s eyes, but the gif doesn’t become distorted or move quicker anymore. once again seems like wally getting his main character energy wiped

• i just realized i’ve been essentially listing things abt this update but that’s not what i’m here to do!!!! go look at it for yourself!!!!!

🍎 but yeah. i’m very deeply worried about him. did anyone else notice that in this update he sounds kind of dead? except in the radio, where he sounded like…. as alive and cheerful as ever? weird….

🍎 edit 2: creds to @/citrineaura for leading me to /ringring... oh my god wally :( i feel SO bad for him AAAUGHHH... i still can't tell if he is talking to us as the viewers or talking to W

🍎 edit 2: stole this from @/citrineaura as well but i 100% see how it could entirely be the whrp silencing wally and even being behind playfellow. why would the staff do that to him if they didn't have some kind of sinister plan????

🏠 oh but on the note of wally being slowly scrubbed from the website, home is cleaned up too. the black goop is replaced with a paint splatter, and the black spiral behind home is replaced with a cutesy little scribble. makes me wonder if home is behind all this

🏠 edit 2: i no longer believe home is behind this just because of /ringring. wally seemed too friendly with home lolz

🏠 home’s gif on the neighborhood page is now called “seeyoutogether”

🦋 way less deep of a detail but frank’s got lil eyelashes now :3 my non-binary king

🌸 the cards on floriography all have different flowers on them. i’m not a flower nerd and i’m too lazy to deal with flower language but i’m sure some nerd is gonna post “🤓☝️erm well this flower means frank is gonna die” or something so. lmk when that happens!!

🌸 edit: thank you to @/capribornio for giving me da links to the deep stuff 🙏 but WOW that was. wow i was really tearing up there. so moving and so so sad and so relatable </3 i don’t even know what she’s yapping about but whatever it is is incredibly relatable

🌸 edit: to me it sounds like. julie’s switching between a human and a puppet consciousness???? i don’t really know how to describe it, but it doesn’t really seem like she’d just be masking with a super strenuous voice like that, like that takes WORK. idk!!!!!

🌸 i kind of interpreted that as if she was grieving someone. maybe feeling guilty for someone’s lost life? but it could also be not that deep, and maybe something terrible will happen to her if she doesn’t make all the flowers bloom

🌿 jonesy joyful green cool version of red guy dhmis

🌼 god frank and julie were my fav duo before but NOWWWW. literally wlw and mlm solidarity i love them SO MUCH……. my fav icons ever

💻 the logo(s) have less mold than before on them… still mold there!! but idk it looks like it healed a little bit

💻 i’m genuinely SO BAD at args but there doesn’t seem to be any outright hidden links/websites this time around? spoil it for me in the comments if there is but idk…. even awayfrompryingeyes is down which makes me think maybe W (the curator of it) got caught? or something happened to them?

💻 edit 3: clown posted that awayfrompryingeyes was back up so i had 2 hop on.... tbh i have nothing to say about it other than that i think wally could be the one sending all this info to W and also oh my god did they actually drink the bottle of joy. jesus

• edit 3: to end this on a stupid note: this is so niche but when i saw the bottle of joy i immediately thought of we happy few because the game also has bottles of joy LMFAO

i think that’s all i wanted to talk about (other than some sillies i’m posting separately)!! obviously i didn’t cover all of it, these r just some thoughts i had while going through it all :D ugh such a STUNNING update as always!!! frank and julie’s vas COOOOOKED with this one….. literally so adorable and expressive UGH fantastic update as always <333

edit 4: i posted a couple resources: brightened toybox photo / hidden frank photo (with my theories)

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

I GOT SO EXCITED WHEN YOU OPENED YOUR REQUESTS!!! can i request a pietro fic where him and the reader are both avengers and they are best friends, but the reader has the biggest crush on him (she manages how to hide well) and they get assigned to a mission in hawaii and have to pretend that they're married and are there for their honeymoon? and that pretending to be the reader's husband and doing everything together like a couple made pietro realize that he also had feelings for her. one day they both go to a restaurant and have some drinks and he builds enough courage to finally kiss her (in the rain😼)

(i know it's cheesy but i just love the idea😭😭 and also, sorry if there's any mistakes, english isn't my first language hahah)

hii!! omg I love this and cheesy things hehe!! and don’t worry, your english was great! apologies, I had a nightmare writing this, I finished writing it then went to edit the next day to find chunks of my paragraphs were missing :(( but thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

—

fake dating

pietro maximoff x fem!reader

word count: 811

✧.┊ MASTERLIST

As you and Pietro are the two youngest members on the team -with the exception of Peter- you were often paired together for lots of missions. Being best friends had its perks, especially for trips away where it was just the two of you. 

You were both assigned to Hawaii to "collect intel", as Cap lightly put it. The pair of you undercover: smitten newlyweds on your honeymoon. Usually, you weren't a fan of these kinds of aliases, but this was different- it was with Pietro.

It allowed you to tap into your true and hidden romantic feelings towards him without over-complicating everything. Fake dating was like a compromise to you. It felt like it gave you a brief chance to date him without the consequence of doing the real thing.

The moment you boarded the plane, the mission began, and you were all over Pietro- leaning into him and stroking his arm, giggling at his jokes and sharing stories with the elderly lady beside you. 

It all felt natural, and you didn't know where to draw the line. You admit you may have gotten a little carried away, but you couldn't help it- it just felt so right to date Pietro, like you could finally be your true self without keeping a part of you locked away. 

The first several days of the trip went smoothly, completing all tasks assigned within the first few hours of the day, leaving you both together for many hours doing touristy things.

Each day was slightly different- snorkelling in the ocean for one and eating lunch with the locals for another. You both wanted to make the most of your 'vacation,' so you chose activities you couldn't do anywhere else, nor would you have time for otherwise.

As the days progressed, so did things with you and Pietro. You would find yourselves flirting and touching with no one around- no one to prove things to. He grew more comfortable being romantic with you, a lingering touch to your hand or a soft smile when you speak- just small and possibly inconsequential moments that felt too sincere to be fake.

Today was the last night of the trip before heading home in the morning, so you and Pietro decided to have dinner at your favourite quaint restaurant on the beach, much like a final farewell to the town you both grew to adore. 

Everything was perfect- the scenery, the food, the company, even. It was the best end to an already great trip. 

By now, you were on your final course of the night, sharing a desert as you chatted in your usual friendly way. 

You sit up straight, pointing the spoon at him. "You suit it,"

His head cocks to the side, evidently confused. "Suit, what?"

"Y'know... the sun— being away. You seem happy," you smile, placing your spoon aside. "Haven't seen you like it for a while." You shrug, glancing out into the ocean to avoid his fixed gaze.

"I do?" he grins, pointing the spoon at you like you did him. "Same with you... it's nice to see."

"Maybe it's the company," your smile widens, turning back to face him.

He chuckles, itching his foot closer to yours under the table, slyly bumping into it. "Maybe."

After dinner and more drinks, you find your tipsy selves on the beach, sitting in the sand, huddled together under a blanket to keep warm. Pietro's arm draped over your shoulder, holding you close to him as you look out into the ocean. It all felt so familiar, like second nature- as if this was how it should be between you. 

Sure, you've cuddled like this many times before, but this was not like those times- this was different. It was intimate- sincere. Pietro pulls away, glancing over your face as a gentle smile forms, watching the way yours mirrors his. 

"Looks like it's gonna rain," you divert, suddenly aware of how real this all feels between you. 

He hums weakly, his smile faltering as he slowly leans towards you, his low gaze focused on your lips. 

"Might storm," you whisper, adding.

"Mh-hm," he softly replies, almost as if he wasn't paying attention. He slips his hand up to cup the side of your face, his palm resting on your jaw, guiding you closer. 

"It might—"

He cuts you off with a small shush, quietening your blabbering mind before brushing his lips over yours, kissing you soft and sweetly. It felt like months of repressed longing poured into a single, beautiful moment. A moment you've long been yearning for.

As you pull away from one another, you wish you could stay here forever. Stay in paradise. 

But as much as you hated to think about it, you'd be leaving tomorrow, and all you could think about was how things would be when you go back home. 

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

pietro taglist: @astermath @thewinterv @earth-elemental18 @lunnnix @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @randomawesomeperson102 @queerponcho @selfryed @daenerys-supremacy @dontknownameauthor @mrsbarnesxxx @honestly-who-even-is-this @simplyreflected

[valeriancrow]

~Longing From The Heart (Venti x Electro Vision Male Reader)~

New A/N: This is a repost from like 2023 when I was into Genshin which I'm not anymore but it's still some good writing and something to start this blog with!! This is also like barely edited please bare with me! I can write better than this I swear!!

Directory | Genshin Impact Masterlist

🚫Warnings and hashtags: Venti, Rude people, cursing courtesy of [Male Name], fluff, and some other stuff.🚫

What is What: Thoughts = Italics,  The Author Speaking = (Bold and Parentheses), When a character contradicts what was said = (Parentheses), (D/n) = Dead Name, (L.Name) = Last Name, (H/c) = Hair Color, (S/C) = Skin Color,

Word Count: 2.3k words

Playlist That I Used To Write This Story: “Longing From The Heart” A Venti Fanfic 

Author's Notes: I recently got into Genshin Impact and as per usual I feel for all the angsty boys and all the girls. Sometimes I regret my choice to involve myself in these kinds of things. Also, this fanfic took a turn towards angst at the beginning but don’t worry it gets better. I have chosen third-person limited for the majority of the story except when it specified otherwise.

Venti looked at the Statue of The Seven in Windrise, his Statue, atop the tree branches there. He then looked to Mondstadt in the distance.

The City of Freedom is forever free from a governing party and rules, somewhat. Venti longed to see his lover again, but he was halfway across Teyvat. Venti didn't know when his beloved was coming home or if he ever would, just like his friend from long ago. 

[Male Name], Venti's boyfriend and soon-to-be fianceé, had been sending letters to Venti. Mainly to keep him updated about how he was doing, how Aether and Paimon were doing, and their journey so far in Inazuma. [Male Name] has an Electro Vision, and he was in the land of the God of Eternity, who was going after people who bore a Vision, which was the order of the Vision Hunt Degree. Continuing with the letters, I noticed they had suddenly and unexpectedly stopped coming. This caused Venti to worry and assume that [Male Name] got injured or died.

Meanwhile, with [Male Name]

"What do you mean 'I can't leave the ship'!!" [Male Name] yelled at the Millelith.

"The Raining Qixing has ordered not to allow anyone named '[Male Name] [L. Name]' into Liyue Harbor, no matter what they say," the Millelith responded.

"Are you fucking serious? You accidentally electrocute someone one time, and you're banished from Liyue Harbor," [Male Name] threw up his hands in exasperation, "It was one time, and he didn't even feel it!"

"I still cannot let you in."

"This is bullshit; my boyfriend is waiting for me in Mondstadt!" 

"Sorry, but you cannot go through Liyue Harbor."

"Fine. Captain! I'll pay you extra to take me to Wangshu Inn."

" Wangshu Inn? That's a little off course, but you're paying extra, so it doesn't matter too much," The Captain says; in addition, he said the price.

" That's not as much as I expected it to be," [Male Name] said while he counted out the mora and handed the Captain.

The Captain thanked [Male Name] and directed the crew to draw the anchor and set sail to Wangshu Inn.

The sun had set a few hours ago, and the night's chill had set in. [Male Name] had stayed on the deck throughout the journey to the Wangshu Inn. One of the deckhands had come to check up on him because they were worried that he had fallen asleep while standing. [Male Name] assured the deckhand he hadn't and told them they would return to work. 

He was still on the deck, looking out at his surroundings. He could never sleep, no matter how tired he was, without the calming sound of the wind. This is why he was coming back from Inazuma so soon. 

Aether had sent him back with the threat of electrocuting him to death. That was more than enough motivation for [Male Name]. He had longed to return to Venti since he stepped onto Inazuma's land. He wanted to feel his warm embrace, calloused fingers brushing through [Male Name] 's hair, his lovely voice singing about past nations rising and falling, and the smell of Windwheel Asters and Dandelion Wine combined to make Venti's unique scent. 

In [Male Name] 's haste to get out of Inazuma, he hadn't had the time to send a letter to Venti that he was coming home. Not to mention [Male Name] could already hear the earful he would get from Venti and the berating he would get from Jean and Lisa about being unable to bring back something useful.

After at least two days at sea, the boat docked at a dock near the Wangshu Inn. 

"Thank you for taking me this far," [Male Name] thanked the Captain and left for the Wangshu Inn.

After arriving at the Wangshu Inn, he walked to the elevator and rode it up to the landing area. As he walked to the Teleport Waypoint, he passed Huai'an. Huai'an waved at [Male Name] to come over to him. 

"Hello, Traveler! If you're free, could you take a look around and clear out any monster camps nearby? They wouldn't dare come near the inn itself, but guests need to get in and out, and the Millelith can't always be here." Huai'an asks.

"Uh, sorry to have to decline your commission, but I have someone eagerly awaiting my return in Mondstadt." [Male Name] responded, trying not to show his irritation.

"Ah, is that so? Oh well, I guess I'll have some other travelers to do it for me," Huai'an said.

"Good luck finding someone. I'll be taking my leave now." [Male Name] said, walking off to the Teleport Waypoint. While he walks there, he makes his way to Verr Goldet.

"Hey, Ms. Goldet!" [Male Name] says, giving a small wave.

"Hey, [Male Name]. How are you doing? Do you need a room to stay?"

"Oh, no-no. I don't need a room. Is Xiao doing okay?

"As much as an Adepti and Yaksha who's seen countless deaths can be, I'm afraid." She looks at [Male Name], "He asked about you and where you were after you didn't come to see him for a while."

"Wha! Really? And here I thought that he finds me annoying and a nuisance." [Male Name] says in disbelief.

"I know, so did I," she says, hurting [Male Name] 's pride a little "You used to come around every two months, and when you didn't come in four months, he came to me asking if I'd seen you, but I told him that my guess was as good as his."

"Hahaha! Aether had asked me to accompany him to Inumaza so he didn't have to face the Riden Shogun alone. He wasn't thinking clearly because I have an Electro vision, not a Cryo or Pyro vision. It's silly asking me to come when he knew I would propose to my boyfriend at any moment, but I had a debt to him, and he chose to cash in the debt then."

"Oh, that's sad and kinda selfish, but you are powerful for someone with such little height and wielding a Claymore."

"That might be true, and just because I rely on my strength more than my vision doesn't make a difference against enemies."

"Also, I almost forgot that he asked if anyone knew how to make your White Imperial, but even Smiley Yanxiao can't replicate it." 

"Ah, that's my version of Almond Tofu. Only a few people have that recipe, making it hard to find. Additionally, that's different from the original recipe. The original recipe called for tofu, and in Monstadt, there is only tofu if some merchants trade with Liyue merchants. So we had fish, and with me knowing a lot about fish, I knew that Tilapia was tasteless like tofu. So I substituted the tofu for Tilapia. Sorry, I info dumped."

"No, no. It's fine. Everyone needs to info dump sometimes."

"Well, I can make White Imperial for Xiao and leave a recipe," 

"Yes, please do." 

[Male Name] walked to the kitchen, pulled out the recipe, gave it to Yanxiao, and asked if he could use the stove. The answer was yes, of course. After [Male Name] cooked the White Imperial, he also cooked some Almond Tofu for the angry Adeptus. He then thanked Smiley Yanxiao and took his dishes to the top of the Wangshu Inn. 

"Hey, Xiao~! I've bought your favorite~!" [Male Name] said. When the Adeptus didn't show up, [Male Name] set the food down on the small rock formation on the balcony and proceeded to jump off the balcony, not deploying his wind glider. He wasn't scared; he knew that Xiao would catch him. If not, he deployed his glider and glided down to the ground. Fortunately, Xiao did see him and teleported back to the balcony.

"You Dumbass, your not supposed to be jumping off the balcony. You promised you wouldn't do that again after the second time I didn't come, and you jumped off." Xiao said, fuming with anger.

"Well, you didn't come and didn't respond at all, so I thought you were ignoring me, which you were, but I'm not blaming you. I went to Inumaza with Aether and a few others, not saying a word to you and the others here in Liyue."

"Sure, anyways, thank you for the food. You can go now. I know you want to return to Barbatos so I won't keep you."

"Gasp How did you know!?" [Male Name] said with fake surprise, his hand flying to his chest to make it more believable.

"I heard you talking with Huai'an," Xiao said matter of factly.

"Oh, you poor baby. I'm leaving because, as you said, I want to return to Venti. I haven't squished his cheeks in forever!" [Male Name] said, walking towards the Teleport Waypoint. "Oh, and Xiao?"

"Mm?"

"Don't ignore me again, please." 

"Sure, sure. Just get going to your husband."

"Soon to be fiancé, then husband~," He said with closed eyes, walking down the stairs.

"Same difference." [Male Name] only responded with a laugh.

[Male Name] soon reached the platform that housed the Waypoint, passing no one that would get in his way there. As soon as he arrived at the Waypoint, he touched it and had only one thought: Monstadt. Of course, since it was an approximate location, the Waypoint dropped him off at the closest Teleport Waypoint near the city.

The night was setting in fast as [Male Name] ran into Monstadt. He yelled a quick hello to Lynn and continued running to the gates, killing off one of Timmie's pigeons with his electro shot. 

Running to the entrance of Monstadt's gates, Swan and Lawrence salute the older member of the Knights of Favonius, who passes them and runs past Miles. [Male Name] then makes a straight shot to Angel's Share. When he arrives at the Angel's Share door, he bursts through the door, slowing down and saying a quick hello to Charles. [Male Name] passes Six-Fingered José, paying him and the other drunkards no mind. He runs up the second staircase taking two steps at a time. After he reaches the second floor, he spots Kaeya, Rosaria, and Diluc. Kaeya and Diluc are bickering as usual, and Rosaria is sober as can be, looking at Kaeya disappointingly. 

"Kaeya, get out. You've had enough to drink, and I want you out."

"But Diluc~! I'm not hic finished my drink hic" Kaeya slurs out.

"Kaeya. Stop it. It would be best if you went home. Diluc, I'll take him home." Rosaria said, looking very displeased at Kaeya's actions to get this drunk. Diluc just nodded in response. [Male Name] made his way over to where the trio was. 

"Um, Diluc? I noticed that Venti isn't here. Do you have any idea where he might be?" [Male Name] asked Diluc, who looked surprised at his presence. 

"I thought you were supposed to be in Inazuma?" He said, looking confused.

"Yes, but Aether sent me back with the threat of being electrocuted to death." [Male Name] stated.

"Ah."

"Yep. I don't want to die yet."

"Well, *hic*, he hasn't been coming to the tavern *hic* very often anymore," Kaeya said, sitting down with Rosaria as she hadn't gotten up yet to take him home.

"That's strange…" [Male Name] said.

"I have an idea where he might be," Rosaria said.

"And where could-. Never mind, I know where he is." [Male Name] said, finally remembering where Venti would go if he wanted to be alone or listen to the breeze- The Symbol of Monstadt's hero, as Venti calls it. 

[Male Name] left the Tavern without even saying goodbye to the others, running out the door to where the random Fatui diplomats stood all the time and to where the Teleport Waypoint was. He touched the Waypoint and thought of the Statue of the Seven in Windrise. As quickly as he thought of the Statue, he was teleported there. 

[Male Name] looked around to find Venti asleep in the tree on one of the highest branches. 'How was that position even comfortable?' [Male Name] thought. He would never know. 

"Oh, Venti, baby. What am I going to do with you" [Male Name] said, looking at the sleeping male in the tree. The smaller male sighed and started climbing the tree to where Venti was.

After reaching him, [Male Name] caught his breath and picked Venti up. Venti woke up groggy and hugged [Male Name] 's neck. 

"Hey baby, wake up, darling." [Male Name] said in a soft voice.

"Mm~ noo~ Give me five more minutes."

"Venti, baby. I need you to stop squirming, or you'll fall." That woke him up. He stopped moving immediately and stayed still till [Male Name] reached the ground. Venti hopped out of [Male Name] 's arms and pulled the short man into a kiss. It was a passionate kiss full of love and longing that would make both of them never want to leave the other for so long again.

"Venti," [Male Name] said after he pulled away from the kiss to get air. Then he got on one knee and produced a small black box with gold and cyan details on the outside. "Will you marry me, Venti, my beloved?" The ring was gold, and Cor Lapis adorned it.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes!" Venti says, jumping and pulling [Male Name] to his feet. "I also got a ring for you." He says, taking [Male Name] 's hand and sliding a ring on his finger. Said ring was silver with Magical Crystals adorning the top of the ring. "I hope you like it, my sweet Cecilia flower,"

"Veeeennnnttiiii~!! I thought I told you I don't like being called that."

"Ehe~!" was the only response [Male Name] got before Venti took off to Mondstadt. Even though he knew that [Male Name] could catch up instantly with him if he pleased. 

"COME HERE, YOU LITTLE SHIT!!!" was the only thing heard throughout Windrise.

credit for first banner: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

credit for second banner: @sisterlucifergraphics

credit for third banner: @cafekitsune

Directory

~Valerian

[michellemisfit]

✨Weekly Tag Wednesday ✨

Thanks for creating the game and for the tag @jrooc thanks for the tag @vintagelacerosette

Today we’re talking fandom. Come play!

Name and A03 handle: Michelle, michellemisfit

Current Location: Living room, surrounded by feathers, as I’m currently fletching some arrows

Favourite picrew: This one is pretty fucking spot on. Or at least it was at the time. Hair is very different now. But then, hair is always different… lol

Also this one is spiritually VERY me

What's one thing you want in a picrew? Ability to add coloured streaks! And a wide selection of scars, or alternatively the ability to move them around the screen. Either is fine. But mostly the hair thing. My hair is generally 4 different colours. Don’t try and limit me to one!!

Favourite thing you’ve created (or seen created) for the fandom? Erm… 3 way tie between Mexico Gallacrafts, Fimo Gallavich, and Cookie Gallavich? Maybe? Argh. Turns out, looking back at my art tag… I’ve created some pretty cool stuff. Huh. Yay me.

Why is it your favourite? I don’t really do photography, and I’m really proud of the idea behind and the execution of that photo. And while I LOVE drawing more than anything, I don’t think I’m exceptional or anything. But I’m damn creative when it comes to silly 3D craft projects, so both Fimo Gallavich and Cookie Gallavich make me happy and feel like something not just anyone could do… I dunno.

Did it come easily or was it hard to create? It was LONG to create. Both cookie and Fimo Gallavich took several days in total. And I think that’s the other thing I like about myself. I am willing to put in the work, and it usually pays off.

Last ao3 fic you commented on? Hah! You’ll be able to corroborate this, I’m not just sucking up!! LOL I’m currently reading Camp is a Battlefield by @blue-disco-lights, @jrooc, and @mybrainismelted, with artwork by @creepkinginc, so that’s the last one I commented on :)

Biggest WIP heartache you’ve ever experienced? I mean… every single WIP I have ever started reading, only to realise that maybe there won’t be any more of it… 😱 Every. Single. One. They’re all special, and they all hurt in their own special ways. And I will remain subscribed to all of them FOREVER, because you never know!!

Also? Comment on WIPs. Tell authors how much joy the story brought you, how much space it’s occupying in your brain, how much you would love to see it continue but how happy you are to have read as much of the story as there is because it’s changed your brain chemistry… do NOT comment saying ‘next chapter when?’, cause that makes you a dick bag.

Favourite trope or head cannon you like included in a fanfic? I’m a sucker for fake dating, only one bed, and a soulmate AU 🤷🏽‍♂️

Least favourite? …not a huge fan of kid fic, but hey, all it takes is a great author to make it work.

Secret or surprising kink or trope? Again, do not kink shame, because you’re only ever one good fanfic away from discovering something about yourself you did NOT see coming…

Describe how you feel after you’ve created something new? Exhausted and antsy. Is it good enough? Are people gonna like it? Should I even bother anyone with this? Why don’t I just go and hide under a rock forever?? I felt okay about this when I finished it, why is it suddenly the worst thing to have ever been created??? …I wish there was a sense of calm and accomplishment. There is not. Brains suck!

Top hype man you have that always helps you get across the finish line: @deedala - I so appreciate how we’re on a similar wave length when it comes to art as well as ‘everybody wants to hunt me for sport’ vibes. I know I can always count on you for kind but honest words, and that’s so important!!

It's been a bad day, you turn to the fandom and you _____? Read comfort fic. Probably Like Real People Do or None the Wiser.

Edit: Also? Go and read comments and tags on old art posts. That’s a sure fire way to cheer me up!

This was fun, and made the 15 minute wait between fletching each feather pass much faster. Thanks!!

If you are currently making your own arrows and need something to occupy your wait time with… how about completing a tag game? lol

@heymrspatel @loftec @creepkinginc @deedala @too-schoolforcool @darlingian @iandarling @iansw0rld @ian-galagher @mybrainismelted @palepinkgoat @crossmydna @mikhailoisbaby @sickness-health-all-that-shit @rereadanon @rutherinahobbit @energievie @junemermaid @francesrose3 @deathclassic @faejilly @rutherinahobbit @gallawitchxx @look-i-love-u @jessij1997 @callivich @celestialmickey @wehangout @doshiart @lynne-monstr @the-rat-wins @blue-disco-lights @suzy-queued @sleepyfacetoughguy @spookygingerr @burninface @gallapiech

[all-pacas]

self indulgent headcanon post: secret retcon sister edition

Daniela Maria Chase. She's gone almost universally by Ellie or Ella since she was little: Chase tends to call her Danielle. It's an old defiant habit: their father called her Ellie and little teenage Robbie was like no her name is Danielle, you don't get to call her a cute nickname if you're not here for her. (But he got it wrong, her name's Daniela.) Meanwhile she has called him Robbie since she was old enough to talk.

Ella was pretty young when her mother died, which isn't to say that her addictions and neglect didn't affect her. As with Robert before her, their mother would lock Ella in the nursery to "get her out of the way;" unlike Robert Ella never really knew or remembered her mother sober, has no good memories to draw on, just a vague terror of a very sick woman.

Robbie got the Good Looks gene. Ellie looks okay, they’re still related and all. But nowhere near his prettiness level. They don’t look alike generally; they take after different parents. But they are both blonde.

Oddly, Ella got along alright with Rowan. Because she was a girl, he had much lower/fewer expectations of her (sexism win!) and because of her age he took her in after her mother died. He still wasn't a great dad by any means. They kind of just ignored one another. She got along okay with her step-mother, too, who is one of those rich ladies who loves a good Society Dinner and Fundraiser.

Robert did his best but wasn't a good parent to Ella either. Obviously he should never have expected to be. But he was fifteen and barely coping and fifteen.

So she ended up growing up to be incredibly independent, capable of fending for herself, but also deeply prone to self destructive behaviors. If Robert is bad at relying on others, Ellie is 800% worse. She essentially emancipated herself at 17, got a job, lived on her own, never married (because relying on people), does everything Herself.

But she also periodically self destructs. She is an addict. She's an alcoholic. She self medicates and does stupid, reckless, attention seeking things, it all spirals, she checks herself into rehab, she's fine for a few years and then does it again. She was also cut out of dad's will — not a surprise, she was a complete non-entity to him and didn't even go to university.

Robert sends her money sometimes. (When he was pulling double wages in S2, she'd just been sent to rehab and he wanted the extra money to help her out.) He is the one tentative exception to the I'll do it on my own clause: Ellie will still do it on her own, thanks, but she doesn't mind him "lending" her money or buying her groceries or making her "on her own" thing easier.

Around 2010 — in her early twenties — she has a kid. Dad is not in the picture and never was. She and Robert have a huge falling out about this, he quite bluntly thinks she can't keep her life together and is being irresponsible and stupid (and flashing back to his own childhood). She has a boy. Chase has never met his nephew. They didn't speak for a couple years after.

Ellie tries to be a good mother. She stays clean, she works hard, she's actually quite proud of herself for "making something of herself." She really resents Robert as much as she does intellectually know he did his best and shouldn't have been responsible for her. But from her perspective, he abandoned her. He's rich and successful and a famous doctor (and Rowan probably was the type to compare her to him, even if he'd never once praise Chase to his face). He has it sooooo easy. And yet Robert is constantly lecturing her, telling her what to do, doubting she can make it on her own. In her mind, Ellie came from nothing and made something of herself, where Robert was given what he has.

But she does love him. And has fond memories of him. And is proud of him and his success! They just… do better with low contact. They always end up arguing. Robert sees Danielle and just feels guilt and is reminded of everything that was bad in his childhood; Danielle mostly was too young to remember the worst of it (and what she does remember is good times with her brother), and resents him for leaving.

Cameron absolutely reached out to Ella as soon as she learned she existed. She picked up the name Danielle from Chase, and no one told her it wasn't technically correct. Ella was immediately suspicious of Cameron's motives, but quite liked her. She thinks it makes perfect sense the marriage only lasted a few months, since obviously Robbie is a huge fucking loser. (She's told him so to his face, that Cameron was way too good for a stuck up asshole like Robert. He will never ever tell her about Dibala.)

Her son's name is Noah Robert Chase. His uncle has no idea.

[hinotorisanarts]

The Amazing Digital Marching Band: Beta Designs

WHAT THE HEEEEELLLLLLL OH MY GAWD NO WAYAYAYAYAYAY

Hi hello hi!! I finally got around to designing some beta layouts for my Digital Circus AU! Please tell me what you think and reblog if you can! If I continue to expand upon this AU, I might just make its own blog for it! Just depends when and if I have time :)

Okay under the cut is me infodumping about each design so feel free to like skip allat if you don’t want to read it

Gangle: Color Guard -I wanted to still follow Gangle’s ribbon motif in her design, this is probably the most personalized outfit out of all of them. -The ribbon the makes up her body now continues down and spirals around her legs, sort of to make a “skeleton” of a dress. -I added a bit more flare to her arms, adding extra ribbons that don’t act as limbs, and more as sleeves or decoration. -The bow on her head kind of just ties it all together, again fitting with the ribbon motif that I was going for. -In terms of the first point, the reason why I say “personalized” is that I’m still not sure what I’m going for in terms of outfits. I don’t know if I want them all to be uniform and the same, like a true marching band (in this case, I would have to change Gangle’s outfit), or if I’d like each uniform to have more of a personal style to it (in this case I would keep Gangle’s outfit, and change uniforms to echo the original character’s designs (i.e. changing Ragatha’s uniform to be a bit more dress like).

Pomni: Drum Major -I’m still deciding on the hat, I wanted to try to make a shako with a jester hat motif, but I’ll have to work it out over time. -Her uniform borrows from modern marching uniforms (Stanbury for inspiration) and circus jester clothes (hence the fringe around the waist). -Gloves are the same size as her original gloves, except they’re white. -Pants are classic bibber pants, shoes are classic marching shoes (both black).

Zooble: Snare (Battery) -One of their antennae is a snare stick. I came up with this gimmick that Zooble basically pulls out sticks from everywhere: their head, their arm, their leg, they always have a spare. -I decided to give Zooble two wings for stability, since you don’t want to be tilted to one side while marching, especially for battery. -Their right (looking at the drawing it’s their left) arm has this mechanism where you can easily insert sticks, it’s sort of like one of those things that can extend your pencil when it’s short? It uses the same logic. -I kinda went the craziest on Zooble’s design because I am so normal about them (I am not) -I CHOSE ZOOBLE AS A SNARE BEFORE GOOSE SAID THAT THEY PLAY DRUMS MY BRAIN IS MASSIVE

Ragatha: Flute -Adding on from what I yapped about in Gangle’s tidbit, I had this idea to make the uniforms a bit more personalized to each character, for example giving Ragatha’s uniform a bit more of a “dress” look to math her original design. Of course, this conflicted with my knowledge of marching bands and why everyone has such similar uniforms, so to go with the dress-like design or not, as well as personalizing each of the character’s designs more, is still up in the air. -Woodwinds have gloves that have the fingertips cut off, so their fingers can be more technical. Ragatha’s gloves are black. -The woodwind and brass uniforms are mostly the same, the shakos (color wise) are the only things that differentiate the two. -Classic marching bibber and shoes. -Yes I am self projecting by making Ragatha a flute and BEFORE YOU GO SAYING “erm achchually Ragatha plays Cello-“ FIRSTLY there are no cellos in marching band and SECONDLY within this AU she plays flute for marching season and play cello in the orchestra for concert season :)

Jax: Trumpet -His ears go inside his shako, I’m just too lazy to edit/erase them. -Brass have gloves that have no alterations made to them. Jax’s gloves are also black. -Classic marching bibber and shoes. -Jax gives me “typical crackhead trumpet” energy and I don’t know why. Anyways there’s my reason for putting him on trumpet.

Kinger: Bass Drum And Gong (Pit/Auxiliary) -I want Kinger in this AU to give “How TF Did I Get Dragged Into This” Vibes -Pit percussion members don’t wear shakos, which is sort of cool so we can still recognize the chess piece form. -Since Kinger doesn’t have any legs, his “marching bibber” is more of just a black skirt that surrounds his body. -Pit percussion members don’t wear gloves. Which is a problem. Because Kinger is always wearing gloves. And I do not want to draw whatever is underneath those gloves. Scawy.

Stay tuned for more!! Maybe!! In the near future??? ALSO ALL SHIPS ARE ALLOWED!!! YOU MAY SHIP WHOEVER WITH WHOMEVER!!! AS LONG AS YOU’RE NOT A CREEP!!! YAHOO!!!

[piplupfluffwritingstuff2]

This or That Gothic Edition Snippet 24- Creature Horror

This or That Gothic Edition Snippets Masterlist

I think this snippet just worked so well with names so I whipped up some OCs. I hope you guys enjoy the story!

Inspired by my answers for this post by @blackrosesandwhump! 

William nearly jumped when he saw the doll. Out of all the oddities in the house, a life-size fabric poppet was the last thing he expected to see.

This was the last room in the house, and aside from the odd mouse or two, the place had no owners or occupants inside. William shook off his drenched coat and hung it on a hook fixed to the back of the door. he hoped whoever did live here wouldn’t be angry about an unexpected guest. William was merely trying to get out of the rain and lightning.

He paced around the circular room- this must have been the tower attached to the chateau. As he deliberated what to do in his head, William took in his surroundings. Lots of sewing supplies and odd machinery were strewn about, and bits of fabric covered every surface. The only place not covered in pin cushions and embroidery hoops was the fireplace. William noticed a box of matches on the mantle, but as he approached, he noticed a distinct lack of any kindling.

William sighed. Any wood to be found would be absolutely soaked from the storm, and it would be terribly rude of him to burn any of the homeowner’s good fabrics. He shivered, drawing a nearby quilt over his form.

He sat like that for a good five minutes before every creaking board and whisper of wind sent his imagination tumbling over a precipice. William jumped up, feeling around for a light switch. He found one, right near the giant doll. He flicked it up, which took an abnormal amount of strength, just as lightning flashed outside.

When the lights didn’t come on, William shuddered. The storm must have cut the power.

“Creepy house, creepy room, creepy everything,” he muttered, “I wanna go home.”

“Home?” a voice asked.

“Yes, home,” William sighed, turning, “I’m- who’s there!?”

He looked around, but there was no one there. No one except William… and the doll. William was two steps away from grabbing his coat and bolting out the door when the doll sat up, staring at him with its glassy eyes.

“Please, don’t go,” the doll said, “I… I don’t know where I am. I’m scared.”

William screamed, running from the room and bolting down the spiraling staircase, out the front door and down the muddied path. He shrieked when lightning struck again. He huddled under a tree, which in retrospect was a risky move, and tried to claim his breath back and slow his racing heart.

He looked back at the tower window. Poor doll. It had been rather rude of William to scream at her… what was he saying!? Surely the thing was possessed by some demon! He wasn’t going to give up his soul that easily! On the other hand, the doll had only moved when he flicked that switch…

He remembered a woman who spoke of bringing a corpse to life by the flick of a switch and a flash of lightning… could the same be done with a doll? William gulped, standing up and creeping back into the house.

He passed the threshold of the tower room, where the doll had curled in on itself, little glass tears falling from its eyes and shattering on the floor.

“Hey,” William said, crouching down in front of it, “I’m sorry for running off. That wasn’t kind of me. Are you all right?”

The doll sniffled, looking up through its fringe.

“I’m scared. I… I don’t know where I am, or what I am… what is going on!?”

The doll looked incredibly lifelike, especially considering it was now alive. William felt another pang of guilt ripple through him. Dolls weren’t supposed to be alive- it was enough of an ordeal for a human, much more so for a creature of fabric and stuffing.

“I think I brought you to life,” William said slowly, “I really didn’t mean to, I’m terribly sorry.”

The doll sobbed harder. William reached into his waistcoat and offered the poor creature a handkerchief. The doll took it, dabbing her eyes. When she handed it back, it had blue and white glass beads on it.

“What am I going to do?” the doll asked.

“Well, we’ll have to wait for your maker to get home. Do you know who lives here?”

“I… I don’t know how I know, but the person who lived here passed away…” the doll said.

“I’m sorry,” William said.

“I don’t want to sit here and gather dust, I’m already so dusty!” the doll cried, “what if the moths come and eat me!?”

“I won’t let that happen,” William said quickly.

The doll looked up at him, her glass eyes widening.

“You know, er,” William started, “I have a flat near the city. It’s quiet, but it’s sunny and there are flowers that look wonderful this time of year. And I have a lovely little tea set- dolls like to have tea, don’t they? Perhaps if you’d like, I could take you with me… once the storm lets up, of course.”

The doll hugged him without warning, her soft fingers clutching William’s waistcoat like her life depended on it.

“Could I really?” the doll asked, “you wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” William said, “it will be an adventure. Might do me some good, too.”

William took a look at the doll. Other than the dust, she seemed to be in good condition. She would need proper clothing, of course. A shame the dollmaker didn’t think to dress her first.

“Do you have a name, my dear?” William asked.

The doll shook her head.

“If I do, I don’t know it.”

William mulled it over.

“Victoria,” he said finally, “would you like that name?”

“For me!?” the doll exclaimed, “you would give such a name to me!?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” William smiled, “it suits you nicely, I think.”

“I should love to be called Victoria!”

“Well then, Victoria, why don’t we set about finding you some attire? You can’t go out without being properly dressed.”

“Oh no, an undressed doll is simply unheard of, Mr…?”

“Ah, yes. It’s William.”

“William…” the doll smiled, “thank you, Mr. William.”

“Just William will do,” he said, “come along now, you can help pick the fabric.”

William and Victoria worked by candlelight, making a little dress, hat, and shoes while the rumble of the thunder became more and more distant. William had no idea how to take care of a doll, but the little creature didn’t deserve to not have a guardian of some sort. William would have to do. Victoria eventually fell asleep, sewing needle in hand. William carried her over to the couch, tucking her in under the quilt. Eventually, William too drifted off to the pitter-patter of the rain.

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Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @electrons2006 @just-a-space-rabbit @telltaletoad @bacillusinfection @noseyowes @whump-till-ya-jump @writinglittlepains @m4iloblu3

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Some twst replies, also shorter ones today.

irregardlessly-tish asked:

Have you seen the cards for the new event? 👀 (Possible spoilers ig) They got me thinking okurrr yes gawd boots the house down slay mama 💅, but also you know how they usually change Grim's model a bit? They are probably going to be cowards and give him a different bow but I know what he really needs to match the guys' energy: a fabulous mullet.

Anonymous asked:

Thoughts in the images of riddle in the rapunzel outfit?

Alright, first of all Ridpunzel is insane. WOW.

The emotion he made me feel is so confusing that I am still trying to wrap my head around it. He looks so… perfect. Like this is exactly how he is supposed to look, like I am not surprised at all for some reason, like yeah duh this is Riddle – our Disney Princess lol Of course it would fit him well because his face is so cutesy and all, but damn it fits him so PERFECTLY. I love him a lot. But I am also very overwhelmed by him so it’ll take some time for me to draw him like this probably lol She really ate, she really boots the house down… my wig is nowhere to be found.

But you know who I am also excited about? Fucking Deuce. He is giving me something I didn’t even know he could give. He is like a mix of dgm Kanda and a very specific type of uke from 80-90s. I am in love with him, I am so happy Jack is also there to be this very specific type of seme from 80-90s with his fucking mane lol

As for Grim, I was thinking about him also having a mane, BUT A MULLET… what a fabulous option indeed. It would be decorated with flowers… so pretty and cute! Now I’m almost sad he won’t get any of these options lol

Anonymous asked:

Mr. Clover [edited out]

Not posting the ask, Anon knows why, but I still wanted to wink at it (I hope that was okay with you) and say… Yes. I absolutely agree. 

Anonymous asked:

What are you opinions on things like Power bottoms? What decides who is bottoming? Is it who is in control? Who is being penetrated? Vibes? Something else?

We have a big post about our reasoning when it comes to who tops and who bottoms, but to give you a short answer, it’s mostly vibes + our personal preferences for very specific types of tops and bottoms!

We don’t usually gravitate towards power bottoms; absolutely nothing against it and it suits some characters very well, but I’m just a huge sucker for “submissive + penetrated” combo, with rare exceptions. And the exceptions kind of end up being more bossy and bratty than proper power bottoms with us…

Anonymous asked:

But woe, who do I see pass my way? 'tis a sickly victorian boy living out his days through the written word?

Naught? 'tis but Rollo Flamme reading a book? Hast he escaped the monastery?

For some reason, Anon, your ask had BGM in my head… it really took me there. A very well-written ask…

I want Rollo’s entire life to be narrated like this.

Anonymous asked:

Idia really is just bones, isn't he? Skeleton man.......

Yeah, he really is… so bony and cute :”(

[ollieofthebeholder]

And If Thou Wilt, Forget: a TMA fanfic

[1] [2] Also on AO3 and my personal website.

Chapter 3: For once I dreamed of you

The old bat had left her office door unlocked. And more importantly, she’d left her papers out.

Well. Okay. That was a bit of a stretch. The door wasn’t so much unlocked as it was shockingly easy to pick, and the papers hadn’t so much been out as easily eventually located under several empty folders in a drawer that came open with only a little bit of jiggling and finagling. But, come on. For Gertrude Robinson, that was practically leaving the doors wide open with a big sign that said FREE TO A GOOD HOME pointing directly at the papers.

Well…maybe not. Not when nobody came down to the Archives when she wasn’t in except for Gerard, and he’d said he wouldn’t be back until Tuesday.

Not his fault he’d been too keyed up to wait and taken an earlier train back.

Maybe a little his fault.

Gerard hummed to himself as he turned the pages over. They seemed to relate to a statement of some kind; while the actual statement didn’t seem to be anywhere in them, he could kind of piece together the gist of it just based on the research. It was something to do with an eighteenth-century automaton that turned out to be a hoax, and something to do with a Hungarian theater, and something to do with an unremarkable man, probably the statement-giver. All taken together, it suggested something of the Stranger, maybe a previous attempt at the Unknowing. Gertrude had obviously been making notes, highlighting, underlining, scribbling in the margins, but what was unusual—at least as far as he could see—was that she had crossed most of her notes out. The crosses started out neat and precise, but he started to notice that more and more of them were stricken hastily in a vicious, almost excited slash. He had trouble with her handwriting at the best of times, and the edits made it harder.

Nevertheless, he persisted.

One note he could read delighted him. MEM: If he survives, bonus/raise? Gerard didn’t exactly draw a paycheck from the Institute, and Gertrude rarely favored him with more than he paid for any books he acquired for her, and it didn’t feel great to know she had such a low opinion of him that she thought he’d get killed by the idiot that had previously owned this one. But the idea of a bonus was promising. He put a big, cheeky check mark next to the note and went on.

“Excuse me, this part of the Institute isn’t open to the public.”

Gerard did not yelp in surprise. He did not toss the papers in his hand like they were electrified. He did not shove back from Gertrude’s desk so quickly that the chair toppled over backwards, taking him with it to the floor. He did not crack his head so hard on the floor that he saw stars and temporarily lost the ability to breathe.

He couldn’t have done any of those things, because that would have meant that he looked not only highly suspicious but deeply uncool in front of the objectively hot man looking down at him with a combination of bafflement and concern, and surely the universe didn’t hate him that much.

“Then what are you doing here?” he asked as soon as he had enough air to speak, as if he was in any position—literally or metaphorically—to make that kind of challenge.

“I work here.” The man held out a hand to assist him off the floor.

Gerard ignored it, as much as he wanted to take it, and rolled to his feet with as much dignity as he could manage. “Did you need something from Ms. Robinson?”

“Did you?” the man countered. “I don’t think she’s in right now—I’m not entirely sure where she is, actually, just that she’s out—but maybe I can help you with whatever it is?”

“Uh.” Gerard thought fast. Whoever this man was, assuming he did actually work for the Institute, he shouldn’t be down here. Unless this was Elias Bouchard, whom Gerard had never met—with good reason—but he looked awfully young for that. Also, if Gerard had managed to get himself caught by Elias Bouchard, Gertrude would…actually, he didn’t know what she would do to him, but it definitely wouldn’t be pleasant. She didn’t suffer fools gladly and had a low tolerance for failure, and she’d been emphatic about him keeping well away from Elias when he came to the Archives. Still, whoever this was, Gerard would have to have a reason to be here, and a reason to get him out of the Archivist’s office.

He gestured at the papers still scattered over the desk, hoping the man wouldn’t look at them too closely. “I, uh—statement.”

The man glanced briefly at the papers, then up at Gerard with a single raised eyebrow. “You don’t look much like an expert in eighteenth-century Hungarian theater. Or eighteenth-century Hungarian, for that matter. So I’m not sure why you’re helping with this one.”

Shit. Well, time for another lie, one that could probably pass muster. Gerard gave the man what he hoped was a disarming grin. “Look, cards on the table, eh, mate? I’m her grandson. Just back from a trip to the continent, so I thought I’d pop in and see her, say hello, you know? I wasn’t supposed to be back until next week, so I reckoned I’d surprise her. Didn’t expect to find anyone down here.”

The man relaxed, but only marginally. “Been gone a while, have you?”

“Couple months,” Gerard hazarded. It had actually only been about a week and a half he’d been off on this trip, but something told him that wouldn’t be long enough.

“That explains it. I only started working for her in September.” The man held out his hand again. “Tim Stoker. Archival Assistant.”

He smiled. He really did have a nice smile—white teeth and a mischievous dimple and lines around his eyes that suggested he laughed more than frowned. Gerard’s own smile relaxed in response as he accepted the hand and shook it. “Gerard Keay. Rare book dealer.”

“Nice to meet you, Gerard.” Tim ran a hand through his hair and stifled a yawn. “Sorry. Just woke up from a nap…where were you, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Germany. Black Forest region. Gentleman there had a collection of rare maps and atlases.” Gerard shrugged. “I got a few, but…not sure what they’re worth. They’re not the kind of rare books I usually deal with.”

“May I see?” Tim asked. “If you don’t mind showing me.”

That…was probably a bad idea. Gerard tried to look skeptical rather than nervous. “Know a lot about German geography?”

“No, but I know books.” Tim gave him a crooked grin. “First in Anthropology. And I worked in publishing before I came to the Institute.”

Curiosity overcame caution. Not completely—Gerard was smart enough not to pull out the book with Leitner’s bookplate carefully affixed to the inside, the title of which he couldn’t interpret—but he did extract the other three and hand them over. Tim took them with the reverence of a bibliophile and handled them with the respect of a historian. He examined the bindings and conditions of the covers, murmuring to himself as he did so. If he was telling the truth about working for Gertrude, and the jury was still out on that, she’d managed to get a good one.

He set the books gently on the desk, then picked up one and opened it carefully. The familiar scent of an old book wafted up from its pages, with none of the stale malice Gerard was accustomed to smelling in Leitners—it might have been his imagination, but he’d smelled it a time or two in books that didn’t have the label and they’d wound up being evil too. Tim studied the inside page for a moment. He frowned slightly, then gave Gerard a sharp look. “How much did you pay for this?”

“About eight thousand pounds for all four. I think.” Gerard was keenly literate but reluctantly numerate, and he’d never been able to hold exchange rates in his head for as long as it took him to turn away from the posted signs at the airport or bank counter.

“You could get twice that for just this one, at a conservative guess. Look.” Tim angled the book towards him. “See this printer’s mark here? This was an experimental printing press that made movable print blocks with geographic features and shorelines and such, then tried to put them together into coherent maps. They weren’t quite as helpful as a hand-drawn one, or a custom-drawn one, but they were pretty damn close, especially for the time. There aren’t a lot of these still surviving.”

Despite himself, Gerard was impressed. “Out of curiosity, how lost would you be if you tried to follow them?”

“Today? Extremely. Even back then, you’d probably be better off staying inland. The coastline wouldn’t look right. But not any worse off than most other common maps of the time.” Tim gingerly turned a page. “Your guy didn’t know what he had. Or you’re an amazingly shrewd bargainer.”

“I dress up when I’m dealing with clients.” Fudging the truth a bit. Gerard could clean up well enough, and every once in a while would dust off a nice suit if he needed to, but it was mostly for charity events or the like. Charming old ladies was surprisingly easier the rattier he looked.

Tim tossed him a grin. “Yeah, you look like the tails and opera cloak type.”

“Hey,” Gerard said, starting to be offended. Then he spotted the sincerity—and appreciation—in Tim’s eyes and realized he meant it.

Oh, hell. He was too old to blush like a schoolgirl just because a cute boy paid him a compliment.

Not that he could ever remember a cute boy paying him a compliment. Tim was actually probably the youngest person he’d ever had a sustained conversation with. Gerard mostly lusted after hot men, women, and people of indeterminate gender from a distance, even more so since he’d got out of prison, and satisfied his needs and desires with nameless, faceless partners at clubs that catered to such things. Low lights, loud music, and the kind of silent communication that was really, really easy to willfully misinterpret. He’d been hurt badly a time or two, but at least he never needed to see who did the hurting.

Tim set the rare tome aside and picked up another, and Gerard took the opportunity to study him more closely. He looked like a pretty typical academic, understandable if he’d been in publishing before stepping into the ivory tower of the Institute, but there was something…fun about him. Something that spoke of farmers’ markets and swap meets and bazaars, but also of forest tracks and river paths and mountain trails. He was an explorer, but not an adventurer—not usually a risk-taker—which made it all the odder he was in the Archives. If he’d come down here thinking it was safe…Gerard got a bit of a sinking feeling. He probably didn’t know about the Fourteen.

Which didn’t make sense. Surely Gertrude wouldn’t have kept him in the dark. Surely she wasn’t that cruel.

And—no, there it was, so faint he’d almost missed it. It wasn’t the mark of something following him, necessarily, more of a shadow, but Tim had racked up at least one encounter with the Stranger, maybe more. But a contract from the Institute, while it didn’t guarantee safety, at least afforded him a measure of the Eye’s protection. If nothing else, it would keep him under observation and let Gertrude, or someone, know if the Stranger came for him again. That was good.

Beyond that, his observations confirmed his initial assessment. Tall, or at least close to Gerard’s height, good-looking in a way that wasn’t at all self-conscious, with a ready smile and very sharp eyes. Gerard had never been good at any kind of casual conversation, let alone making actual friends, but something about Tim made him want to try.

“These are both late nineteenth century,” Tim said, bringing Gerard back to reality. “At least I can confidently say you didn’t overpay for them if you bought them with this other one, but honestly, they’re the Edwardian equivalent of pulp. They’re in good enough condition, but you’d have to find a pretty specialized collector to get more than a couple hundred pounds for both.” He set them down. “You said you bought four?”

“I did?” Gerard panicked slightly. Oh, there was no way he’d let a pair of sapphire eyes and a dimple he could lose his finger in charm him into tipping his hand, was there? If there was a God, a supreme head of the universe, He was definitely laughing at Gerard right about then.

On the other hand…well, he was Gertrude’s assistant. He had to know what Leitners were, right? He’d be careful. Gerard reached for his bag again.

“And just what do you think you’re doing, Gerard?”

For the second time that day, Gerard almost leaped out of his skin. At least this voice was one he was expecting…kind of…but that didn’t mean it didn’t startle him. He managed to keep the guilty look off his face as he blinked up at Gertrude Robinson’s unimpressed expression.

Before he could come up with a glib answer, though, Tim gave her a wry smile. “Lying through his teeth, and badly at that. But if you do actually know him, I won’t go looking for security unless you want me to.”

“No need for that. Yet.” Gertrude shot Gerard a warning glance before turning back to Tim. “Are you rested?”

“Yeah. Thanks for letting me use the cot.” Tim moved towards the door. “If you don’t need me, I’m going to go pack that up before I get started for the day.”

“It’s Saturday, but the library should be open. Diana usually has someone helping her with cataloging on Saturday mornings. Find out what they have on the Circus of the Other,” Gertrude instructed, then, uncharacteristically, tacked on, “Please.”

Tim looked momentarily disorientated, but nodded. “Do you need them in English?”

“Unless you read Russian.”

“Only the basics, really.”

“Well, that’s better than I can. If there are any in Russian, do see what you can do with them.”

“I will. Thanks.” Tim gave Gerard a wink and a cheeky grin. “Nice to meet you, Gerard. Try not to scream too loud.” He rapped twice on the frame of the door and was gone.

Gertrude waited a few minutes, arms crossed over her chest, then raised an eyebrow disapprovingly at Gerard. “What did you tell him?”

“Told him I was your grandson.” Gerard suppressed a smirk at the small harrumph she made at that. “And that I’m a book dealer who was meeting a client with rare atlases. I did try at first to say I was doing a statement, before I knew who he was, but—”

“He’s far more perceptive than he appears,” Gertrude said. “And he has a talent for this kind of work.”

“How long’s he been with you?” Gerard, despite himself, was curious.

Gertrude’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Since the beginning of September. Ordinarily when I know you are coming, I come up with a reason to get him out of the Archives.”

The censure in her voice was palpable. Gerard shifted slightly uneasily. “I got what I went for. Waiting around another three days didn’t make much sense to me, so I grabbed an express train early. I didn’t expect anyone to be here on a Saturday.”

“Then why come here? Why not wait until Monday?”

“Well, you’re not anyone. You’re always here, I just thought—”

“And my office?” Gertrude interrupted. She scowled at the papers scattered on the desk. “Did you find anything interesting?”

“Yeah. I found your assistant,” Gerard said pointedly. “Or he found me, anyway. I figured it would be better than waiting in the middle of the Archives.”

Gertrude’s eyes narrowed further. “He’s right. You are a terrible liar.”

“I am a fantastic liar,” Gerard said, offended. “You just know too much.”

“Gerard.” Gertrude pinched the bridge of her nose briefly.

“Why’s he here, anyway?” Gerard asked, trying to redirect her from blessing him out and distract her into revealing her nefarious plan. “Thought you didn’t have anyone officially helping you anymore.” He was a little vague on what had happened to her previous assistants, but they’d all been gone well before she took care of his annoying little problem and he started helping her. She’d been adamant about not putting him on the payroll, and he’d assumed it was so she had more leeway about what to do with him, but…

“He works here,” Gertrude said pointedly.

“Yeah, but it’s Saturday,” Gerard shot back. “Like I said, nobody works on Saturdays but you. And more to the point, why does he work here? I thought you didn’t have the budget for an assistant.”

“No, I didn’t have the budget for two, which is why I couldn’t hire internally. Elias instituted a policy that any department accepting a transfer from another department must also take Martin Blackwood. And I had no interest in posting an external advertisement and risking the sorts of people who might apply.” Gertrude strode over to her desk and began gathering the paperwork. “Tim came to the Institute for a job interview. I ran into him at the door and assumed he had come to give a statement. After I had taken it…well, it seemed safer to have him where I could keep an eye on him.”

“Because of his encounter with the Stranger?”

“Yes.” Gertrude looked troubled for just a moment. “Not just the Stranger. His brother was taken by the Circus.”

Gerard’s stomach clenched. “This would be the Circus of the Other that you just sent him to do research on?”

“Indeed. A way for the Stranger to collect its victims. For the most part, it no longer exists, but in its day it traveled over much of Europe, especially Russia.”

“So why’s it here? What does it want him for?” Gerard didn’t know why he was suddenly so worried about a guy he’d only just met. Sure, he was hot, but he was still a complete, well, stranger. It would suck if anything happened to him, in the same way it would suck if anything happened to anybody, but there was no reason to be that particular. “Has it been following him since he was a kid?”

Gertrude raised an eyebrow, but said only, “Unlikely. His brother’s encounter was only a few days before I met him.”

“Then I ask again. Why is a circus—excuse me, the Circus—so important? And what does it want with Tim?”

“What it wants with everyone else,” Gertrude said calmly. “To use him to remake the world in its own image. To bring about the apotheosis of the Stranger.”

Gerard hadn’t realized he had sat down, but the fact that he stood up fast enough to knock over Gertrude’s chair again told him otherwise. “To bring about the what?”

“Apotheosis. The emergence of—”

“I know what apotheosis is, dammit. What the fuck do you mean the Circus is trying to bring forth the Stranger?”

Gertrude sighed heavily. She came around her desk, righted her chair firmly, and sat in it. “Take a seat, Gerard.”

Gerard wanted to argue, wanted to demand that she stop with the cryptic bullshit and just tell him already, but the part of him that had grown up with Mary Keay and knew the price of disappointing her bent his knees without his consent. Fortunately there was a chair behind him. He clenched his hands tightly in his lap to keep them from shaking and waited.

Gertrude folded her hands on her desktop and peered at him over the rims of her glasses. “Please understand that my reasons for keeping this from you have nothing to do with trust. I have full confidence in you. It’s simply that, once you have this knowledge, you will not be able to walk away. You’ve dealt with quite enough in your life. Leave now, and you can leave this life behind.”

Gerard doubted that. For one thing, he didn’t believe for a second that Gertrude had kept it from him to give him the choice of walking away, otherwise she wouldn’t have answered his question about Tim. Whatever her reasoning, it wasn’t that. For another thing, he’d been marked by too many Fears; his mother may not have wanted to bind herself to one in particular, or so she had always claimed, but she’d skewed too close to Terminus not to scar him with it, and he’d literally etched the Eye into his skin. Between that and the Leitners, he might walk away from the Institute, but something would kill him or claim him before he got too far.

Besides. He thought he might have just made his first actual friend, or at least be on the way to making one. If he walked away now, he’d lose that chance.

“Yeah, right,” he said. “Like I’m going to leave you to deal with whatever this is on your own. Tell me what’s going on.”

Gertrude nodded. “Right. Let’s start at the beginning, then.”

[passionesolja]

Imo the acceptance for AI we’re seeing is bc we’ve let the Tech Gamer Bros have power for too long. And these people have the mentality of exploitation and shortcuts. These mfs aren’t the old school billionaires who actually invented some shit. Like say what you want about Rockefeller and Gates but they did actually produce shit and get rewarded for it. These guys really haven’t.

That’s why they like crypto coin, NFTs, and shit. Because they want “get rich instantly irl” cheats like shit a video game.

Ofc a generation of people who have been raised with these types as the pinnacle of success aren’t going to want to work at doing anything and just want the immediate rewards.

This is the “maximize optimization, instant gratification” age. Not to sound like a boomer rn but as an older GenZ, it’s just a different world.

You see that even with online entertainment.

There wasn’t mfs like Mr. Beast when I was a kid/teenager. It was small, grass root creators who you either stumbled upon bc you were online fr or bc of people around you. The most “Hollywood” YouTubers I remember were Smosh, Channel Awesome, and a few others. But it really was people who did shit just because they wanted to, or because it was an accessible option.

When you have an generation of people who are raised in this world, you can’t blame them for trading in every conceivable skill that they could use to better their lives for the sake of convenience/automation bc everything they’ve absorbed has worshipped that.

This isn’t boomer talk. It’s just the reality that younger people have been molded to think like this by online figures and Tech Gamer Bro culture. I feel bad for them, like I can’t imagine growing up and living in a world where I know that aspiring to be anything is worthless bc you’ll never be able to have that be a way to better your life.

“Why even spend time on writing, drawing, editing, coding, talking to others” I’ll just use an AI to do that all. Bitch what the fuck are you gon do with your spare time if you automate everything we do that makes us human? Consume short form content in bed while you bed rot and play video games? Bitch get off your ass and have some lust for life tf have some kind of dream of being somebody.

Like do the kids not dream of going on a journey, trying your best at something, and getting successful off it and having that sense of “wow, I did it. I worked and got everything I wanted in life. I poured my heart, time, and soul into something and people like it. I got to share a piece of myself with the world and they accepted it. It meant something to them”. I hate to be an oldhead but I genuinely don’t get it. Maybe it’s Late 90s Kid mentality. I dunno.

I just don’t understand wanting to throw every conceivable avenue for a better life away in exchange for seemingly nothing at all except not having to do something that takes some brainpower or isn’t immediately fun/dopamine giving. This is coming from somebody with adhd too like damn bitch

It’s so bleak and it’s so depressing that a sizable amount of the population wants to throw everybody into abyss of doing fuck-all?

[seeingteacupsindragons]

My last post to get people to talk about their creative projects has gotten something of a theme. People who are trying to write a book, but instead of actually writing it, are writing a bunch of…other stuff.

I may be biased because I do very little of that extraneous writing­, but I think there’s two main places that situation comes from:

Being scared of writing the book/story

Not actually wanting to write a story

And both of those things themselves could probably be a whole post or series of posts, but let me break them down one at a time to see if it helps anyone figure out what’s going on with them.

Being scared of writing the book/story:

Basically, the writing you’re doing instead of the story is procrastination and avoiding actually working on the story. You don’t want to be writing it, but you’re afraid if you actually write the story, you’ll mess it up, so you’re writing other things and trying to prepare yourself utterly and completely so you know exactly what you’re going to do…except none of that “prep work” worldbuilding and character exploration is actually making you any more confident.

So here’s the thing: You can rewrite the same story from scratch several times if you don’t like what the first try looks like. You can edit the story over and over if you don’t like what it looks like.

Some prep work helps a lot of writers. But at the end of the day, it’s really not helping you write the story. The story is the story and it’s not any of your asides, and the longer you spent avoiding the story and building up All These Cool ideas, the scarier actually writing it is going to get. Because now you have a thousand cool ideas and you’re even more afraid you can’t do them justice than when you had one kinda interesting idea to pursue. You’ve invested all this time—what if the story isn’t good?

It's still going to be better than no story. And you're not going to get better at telling stories without trying to do that specific thing, because of the discussion we're about to get into...

Not actually wanting to write a story:

The people who said this to me in that post were largely writers. But the thing is that doesn’t really get talked about is that…writing isn’t really one hobby.

There’s a lot of kinds of writing, and some of them overlap, but they all require different skills and they require different interests, and they satisfy different parts of a person, if they satisfy any.

Writing a novel is different from writing a short story is different from writing an analytic essay is different from writing standup is different from writing a screenplay is different from writing a Wiki entry is different from writing a business report is different than writing marketing copy is different from writing a technical manual is different from…

I majored in creative writing and minored in professional writing, and I have been writing for 25 years. I have tried a lot of those kinds of writing. I enjoy most of them, because I enjoy wordsmithing. I enjoy putting various words together to see what they look like. Not everyone does, but they might still write because…

They like storytelling. Not everyone who likes storytelling is a writer—sometimes they draw, or make a video game, or pain, or act, or direct, or sing. Lots of ways to tell stories exist! And if you like writing but don’t like storytelling, maybe you’d be happier writing analysis essays or business reports, or marketing copy (which can be storytelling, but is very different from narrative).

And maybe, it leads you to writing long character profiles and worldbuilding documents.

Writing a novel and writing detailed worldbuilding documents are honestly basically different hobbies. You might like both! Or you might not, and just feel like “I like writing,” means you have to write a novel or a short story.

You…don’t. Writing doesn’t mean you have to write any specific thing. You should find why you’re drawn to a specific activity, to figure out what is satisfying you about it.

It is perfectly okay if you enjoy writing about made up worlds without wanting to write a novel about it. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.

So basically:

If you want to write a novel, just do it already! If you don’t, you don’t have to keep telling yourself you will because you feel obligated to do it. Just enjoy whatever part of the process you enjoy.

[driedupeyeballs]

OH MY GOD???? I already love them sm

I literally edited a new profile for them for this cuz the old one was outdated BUT YEAH IDK IF THIS WAS AN INVITE TO INFODUMP ABT MY JAMIAZU FANKID BUT IM USING IT AS ONE

Btw I can only wish to achieve your level of snake knowledge I thought my reptile hyperfixation went deep but yours is deeper I wanna know your ways

But that isn’t relavent YEAH HERES MY JAMIAZU FANKID HI TUMBLR *lets them out like you would a spider under a cup*

So I have a shit ton of Twst fankids btw! They kinda swim around in my brain but only a few ppl I know have gotten the info dumps lmao

Skye was the first one I made I think (actually it might’ve been Rico (florid) but eh oh well who’s counting)

But yes this is Skye Ashengrotto!

They’re my older Jamiazu kid, I do have two. The younger one is my octo boy Akram :) he’s funny I wanna pinch his cheeks but he’s not the point here

So Skye! It feels weird publically infodumping abt my OCs like wtf am I even supposed to put here

They’re a half mer, which do work a lil different than normal mers in my lore. Half mers can transform without a potion but it’s still a long and generally painful process, esp going from mer to human. I kind of switch between calling them a snake mer and a naga but there’s lore there- Nagas exist in my lore outside of sea snake mers, there are also fully terrestrial Nagas. So the terrestrial nagas wouldn’t be considered snake mers but the sea snake nagas would be a type of mer while also still being a naga ITS CONFUSING DONT ASK (actually do. Ask everything so I can roll more of my fankids out like marbles)

Skye was created by a spell, I haven’t quite worked the details out 😔 but Jamil is part gorgon in my lore which is why they have the hair snakes which isn’t a typical naga trait. And to elaborate on the hair snakes: they are alive, the one w the bigger stripes is Flora and the smaller stripes is Jett. Skye can communicate w them telepathically and their eyes glow which is kinda neat. They’re kind of Skye’s version of floatsam and jetsam (unless u count Rico (florid) and Lilac (treyjade) which is like their ver of the twins- IDK ITS COMPLICATED)

idk what else to put here so LETS THROW SOME FHARACTER DYNAMICS YEAH and also mentioning some of my other fankids! They all have profiles (except my Malleus kid I’m sorry Aihan I can’t think of a design for you) but I’m probably gonna save those for another post-

So jamiazu in my lore live in the Shaftlands in a beachfront place and also live pretty close to Treyjade, however Florid live in the Queendom. The octatrio and their spouses is a close group so they’re essentially a big family. My treyjade kids are Maren (older) and Lilac, then my Florid kids are Rico (older) and the twins Mary and Eliza.

Skye saw Lilac more as a kid cuz they lived so close together but also saw Rico a lot when flrd would visit or they’d go to visit them. Rico is an agent of chaos and Lilac is Skye’s 2nd in command so their dynamic on a surface level is pretty similar to the octatrio, but there’s still a lot of differences once u get into the meat of it. Tho Lilac and Rico are Skye’s best friends and basically like siblings to them.

Outside of jamiazu Skye is particularly close with Jade, they share a love of tea :) he’s their cool but also slightly unsettling uncle

THEN THERES SHENZI- Shenzi is my younger kaliruggie kid and I am not gonna get into her here bcuz she rlly needs her own post w all her trauma but good lord these two do not like each other. Shenzi’s really nice but she’s not quite as nice as Kalim so after about 5 months of trying and failing to befriend Skye in their freshman year she just gave up and now their relationship is nothing but hostile (which was not helped when Shenzi and lilac started dating)

Speaking of that tho- so my idikei kids :) Ember (named after the pokemon attack) is the older one and he’s basically that “Jock idia can’t hurt you he’s not real Jock idia:” thing as a person he has the Fire hair n shit but he plays basketball and is heavily extroverted but no one gives a shit abt Ember this is NOT ABT HIM this is abt his sister! Her name is Zelda because you know Idia would name his daughter Zelda- she got all of Idia’s social anxiety lmao. She’s extremely shy and there’s a total of like 4 people in the school she can actually talk to without melting into a small stain on the floor. She’s an Skye are both in board games club and sometime in early freshman year she falls on her ass and knocks over a bunch of stuff which Skye happens to witness and cue the most awkward interaction known to man bcuz Skye can’t talk to pretty girls and Zelda can’t talk to ANYONE but they end up walking to the mirror hall together afterwards which becomes a routine. Except they’re both awkward as fuck take like almost two fucking years to get together bcuz neither of them are gonna do anything abt it BUT THEYRE VERY CUTE!! I love them

Also my ashengrotto siblings are very wholesome I need to write some stuff w them- Akram is a little shit and he loves pissing Skye off but at the end of the day he admires them and Skye loves their brother a lot :)

Anyway good lord I’ve yapped too much okay OH YEAH Skye has a Russian blue cat named Mariana who they just fucking found on the side of the road and thought it was a mouse so for like 2 years Azul thought Skye was gonna eat the cat

OK HERES RHE ACTUAL PROFILE these aren’t as chaotic as the other ones all the other ones are more meme than profile ALSO RHEIR UNIQUE MAGIC DOESNR HAVE A NAME AT THE MOMENT IF ANHONE HAS AN IDEA FOR ONE PLS SHARE I HABE NO THOUGHTS

(If you recognize my art style from instagram no you don’t also THEY DO HABE EYES I JUST DONT DRAW THEM CUZ MY STYLES WEIRD)

But yeah I love them I hope they explode (affectionate)

[misc-obeyme]

CC questionnaire!! :3

What's your favorite color?

When did you find out you were one of the fruits in the fruit cup aka when did you find out you were gay?

Favorite creator? Can be any kind.

Favorite song(s)?

Longest fic you've read and longest fic you've written?

Which anon interests you the most?

Favorite animal?

Favorite food?

Have a good day?

Bows for barb (silly edition :p)

Oh my a whole slew of questions. Okay here I go. I’m getting a real work out for my thumbs this evening.

What's your favorite color?

I have been asked this multiple times on this blog and I’m always like ?? Why do people wanna know my favorite color out of the blue? But I don’t mind answering of course I just think it’s funny.

My favorite color is yellow. Then I have a handful of secondary favorite colors which are purple, teal, & green. There is a lot I could say about my color preferences but this is the short answer lol.

When did you find out you were one of the fruits in the fruit cup aka when did you find out you were gay?

Hmm. This is kind of a complicated story, so I’ll give you the quick version. I was aware of it when I was around 18. But for various reasons, I was in denial for a long time. So I didn’t actually come out to anyone until I was 30. And even now I’m not really out to most people but that’s more about me not feeling the need to inform them? Like I’m not trying to hide it, but I told the people I wanted to tell and I don’t care if everybody else knows lol. If they can’t figure it out on their own they are blind. (The exception is my sister. I do want her to know but I also know she won’t like it, so I’ve been putting off telling her.)

Favorite creator? Can be any kind.

I don’t really have a favorite? If we’re talking in fandom, it’s definitely all of my lovely friends who write and draw and amaze me with their skills constantly. But if we’re talking outside of fandom I don’t think I have a fave. I like a lot of different stuff, so my favorite changes all the time.

Favorite song(s)?

Impossible to choose a favorite song of all time, but currently I’ve been listening to way too much Hozier. The whole Unreal Unearth album is so good but I’ve been obsessed with “Unknown/Nth” and “Butchered Tongue.”

Longest fic you've read and longest fic you've written?

Longest I’ve read?? I have no idea. I’ve read multichapter fics that had to have been crazy long but I haven’t really kept track of them. The longest fic I’ve written is Unchained if an OC AU counts. Otherwise it’s The Threads That Bind.

Which anon interests you the most?

Oh I’m interested in all my anons equally! Though I do wonder about those I haven’t heard from in a while. I hope they’re doing okay!

Favorite animal?

Do mythological animals count? Because if so, dragons and unicorns. If not, then I have always loved tigers and polar bears. Oh and pandas.

Favorite food?

Sushi!

Have a good day?

Are you wishing me a good day or asking if I had a good day? LOL my day was pretty normal.