#god this took me forever but I did it

[jomilky]

Since you’re not as active as you used to be, can you make a master list of all your AU ideas?

Okey dokey

#think before you ask au

#bull rider au

#ass renting au

#magician au

#plastic surgeon au

#roommate au

#college au

#influencer au

#reporter au

#protester au

#plumber au

#science project au

#beach au

#rent au

#scheme au

#sluttiest student au

#viking au

#erotic movie au

#personal trainer/lazy client au

#medical 🚨 au

#drug dealer au

#casino au

#milk au

#superhero au

#sexual service au

#kingdom au

#company au

#Ian and Mickey’s business tent

#clothing store au

#brothel au

#sperm donation au

#house cleaning au

#gym au

#priest Mickey

#office au

#pimp mickey au

#pimp Ian au

#skincare au

#wrestler au

#fight club au

#vacation au

#rent au

#inhibition au

#hairless boss au

#waxing shop au

#massage au

#king’s courtesan au

#sex addiction au

#senator au

#pilot au

#tailor au

#gangster au

#gods au

#police au

#gods au

#kitty Mickey au

#bully au

#kisscam au

#accident au

#bank robber au

#wardrobe Mickey

#see-through power au

#rival gangs au

#makeup artist au

#wizard au

#heat au

#hunter Mickey/angel Ian

#alien Ian au

#masseur Ian au

#sleeping beauty au

#AI Mickey au

#firefighter and EMT au

#stripper and body guard au

#truth or dare au

#sleep comfort au

#ghost hunter au

#TSA au

#stress ball au

#food critic au

#hunter and nobleman au

#porn director au

There are also some fun stuffs like

#smoking kink

#worship kink

#Mickey speaking Ukrainian

#social media gallavich

#Mickey’s birthday

[adrinktostopyourthirst]

Bucky Barnes | One Shot | My Queen

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Queen!Reader

Plot: The post-battle energy rush needs a release. Suddenly, there’s a willing soldier at your disposal.

Warnings: 18+. Smut and mentions of violence.

Words: 4OOO

“There are guests, Your Majesty,” John tells you with pity in his voice, not mentioning it because he thinks you have forgotten, but because he needs you to be aware of the important fact. If you tried hard enough, it wasn’t too much of a task to remember your duties and who those entailed, but it was a relief to have John around to remind you of such things, since you valued your duties and relations with the outside world dearly.

You glance around nervously and give him a guilty pout, grabbing the last of your belongings.

“I know, I am so sorry, but this is important. Send them a plane and I will get back to them as soon as I can,” you plead and quickly rush out of the room to the main entrance hall, John following you as you make your way to the prepared jet.

Mind occupied by making sure your small legion is armed and ready to go as you walk, you get brought to an abrupt stop when two large men block your path. Raising your head, you glower curiously at the rude interruption. As busy as you have been the past weeks, you study each and every encounter you plan, so you know exactly who the two men are.

“Captain Wilson. Sergeant Barnes.”

“Your Majesty,” Sam’s greeting is curt, yet kind. “I don’t suppose a sudden departure is part of your infamous warm welcome?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You have an awful lot of courage speaking to a queen this way,” you warn him, your tone formal before your features soften towards your guests. “But I apologise. Something important came up and I hardly think sending you into war with me is considered a warm welcome.”

The man you recognise as James Barnes lets out a humoured scoff. “Clearly, you don’t know us very well.”

Your eyes dart between the men suspiciously and a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, hardly able to contain it at the sheer boldness coming from the men. After a pregnant pause and your legion having left the hall to board the jet, you slowly turn to John.

“John. You heard the men. Get them suited and onto the jet.” Sharing one more glance with the men, your eyes lingering on the twinkle of mischief in Bucky’s eyes, you brush past them and step onto the plane without another word.

…

“It’s not often a queen goes into war with her people.”

“Well, unfortunately my legions are struggling on their own,” you explain to Sam calmly.

“What happened?” Bucky asks, brows pulled together in slight worry.

“John? Could you please bring them up to speed while I get ready?”

As John takes over and shows the two heroes what their next mission will be as they serve someone else’s queen, you step over to the side and let one of your generals help you suit up. Slipping into the modern metal, rusted with nano technology, the shimmering suit glides over your body perfectly.

From the corner of your eyes, you notice Bucky Barnes losing interest from John’s briefing and your eyes lock with his. There’s a rush of heat pulsing through your body at the sheer boldness of Bucky not breaking eye contact once he gets caught staring. His eyes rake up and down the sleek suit and lock back onto yours, a knowing smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth before he drags his eyes away and turns back to his previous conversation.

Leaving you absolutely flustered and furious.

Did he just ogle a queen?

…

Bucky is startled enough for it to nearly show on his face when he sees the feral look you have on yours. He knows that look, has worn it plenty of times himself. Battle doesn’t quite leave your body and mind as soon as it is over. Even with your spectacular win, which Bucky knows is mostly because of your reliability and skills as a powerful leader, the raging chaos of adrenaline lingers like you have days worth of battles to fight still.

He came in to check up on you post-battle, easily slipping past your guards, to find you pacing in your blood-splattered gear around the chamber before what he assumes is your bedroom. The hall is large and decorated wonderfully, but so very empty with your restless figure pacing through it. He’s certain he can feel your energy buzzing all the way up to the impossibly high ceilings.

Having enough decency to announce himself, he gently knocks on the door from inside of the room. When you whirl towards him in your frenzy, he finds it amusing enough to plaster a smirk onto his face. “Restless, my queen?”

You huff through your nostrils. “I still have fight in me.” He knows. “I want to kill them for springing that attack on us.” He knows that too, but the gravel in your voice awakens a slumbering beast inside of him and fire starts curling around his bones.

“I think you gave them enough hell for what they did to you,” he assures you and something in your eyes seems to soften at that. You did give them hell. Rightfully so.

“But this energy–” You shake out your trembling hands to rid yourself of that restlessness. Bucky nods and slowly prowls closer, hands gliding into his pockets as he slants his head to the side to observe you.

“I know,” he acknowledges, “it takes a while to wear off.”

“How do you handle it?” you ask him, taking a steadying breath as he crosses the room. “After a fight, how do you get rid of all of that energy?”

Bucky flashes you a grin, his brows raising with intrigue and a mischievous shimmer in his eyes. “I hardly think I could speak about such methods to a sophisticated queen.”

“Sophisticated, my ass,” you snap, narrowing your eyes at the broad soldier. “You hardly felt like you had to be appropriate when you were watching me put on this suit,” you say with a scoff, ushering to the intricate metals you’re wearing.

“In my defence, I hadn’t seen you fight yet. Whereas now,” he shrugs, “I’d prefer staying in your good graces.”

“You fuck it out, don’t you?”

Bucky’s blink is the only sign of his surprise and he cocks his head at you again. “Excuse me?”

“The only way to get rid of the energy after battle is to get your dick wet,” you clarify, “isn’t it?”

Bucky chokes on a laugh, stepping even closer to you now with his hands still in his pockets, close enough to make you have to tilt your chin up. “You have a filthy mouth for a queen,” he breathes and to accentuate his words, his eyes drop to said mouth.

“I didn’t become queen by being prim and proper,” you explain with a little less fire than you intended to say it with.

“No,” he breathes, “you didn’t.”

Another restless shudder up your spine reminds you of your predicament, your thudding heartbeat not coming to a rest. You sigh, searching those blue eyes still trained on your lips. “Care to help a queen out?”

“You want to see me bow for you again, don’t you?” He smirks and finally raises his eyes to meet yours.

You can’t help but smile slightly, giving him a guilty shrug, because yes, you loved seeing him bow for you earlier as you stepped onto the battlefield. Not just that, plenty of pretty men had bowed for you. It was Bucky’s willingness and respect as he took a knee for you that was particularly invigorating. He matches your smile and takes a long second to let you take in what he is about to do, before slowly sinking to his knees in front of you, steady hands moving to rest on your thighs.

“Your people are awfully lucky to get to serve you every day,” he murmurs, looking up at you with eyes of fire and submission. That manages to make heat surge to your cheeks and ears, swallowing hard as you take in the sight before you. “May I?”

It takes all of your power not to nod too eagerly before he starts working off the buckles and belts of your suit, the nanotechnology wingmanning perfectly as the metal retreats into the hard base of the suit.

Soon, you are in nothing but your underwear. Bones and muscles are trembling beneath your skin in response to forcing your body to be utterly still. Chemical reactions are ricocheting against the barrier of your skin to make you spring apart. So much energy. So much fire and passion and fury still roiling inside of you. A heavy blanket settles over it – desire. But before you can order him to act on it, Bucky comes back to a stand.

“Close your eyes,” he mutters.

“I’m close to fighting you, Sergeant Barnes,” you promise him, showing your active restraint, but deciding to close your eyes anyway.

He huffs a soft laugh and you feel his eyes burning into your skin, a knuckle brazenly trailing over your collarbones and down the centre of your chest. “I will take you up on that another day,” he answers and your blood heats up at the fact that Bucky revels in both of those sides of you. Most men cower at your bloodlust, but not him. He kneels before it.

Speaking of him kneeling–

“I didn’t tell you to get up,” you remind him and his hand pauses.

“I didn’t particularly think it would be fair to leave you standing as I proceed to immobilise your legs, my queen,” he drawls and you snap your mouth shut. Your eyes slowly flutter open and you find him having taken a step back, holding out his hand for you to take.

Carefully taking it with a questioning look in your eyes, Bucky leads you to your bedroom like he has been there a thousand times. Slowly and deliberately, he guides you to your own bed, still fully clothed himself in those black leathers.

“I expected it to be more rough,” you admit steadily. “Fucking out that energy...”

Bucky turns back to you, hands now on your waist as he pivots you with your back to the bed, the backs on your legs touching the foot of it. “Fucking you roughly won’t do the trick,” he explains. “Fucking you thoroughly will.”

If you weren’t quaking before, this would do the trick. Your heartbeat is pulsing between your legs, hammering for attention, the seams of your underwear teasing you more than the man before you. It paralyses you, that desire coursing through your veins like syrup, makes you fall quiet. Only for a short while.

“Then do it.”

Bucky’s brows raise again, not having expected you to fold so fast. “What?”

“Did I fucking stutter?” you hiss at him. “I need you to fuck me before I explode.”

Bucky smirks at you again and you’re so tempted to smother that smirk – you have your ways. “I am not yours to give orders to.”

You restrain from rolling your eyes at him, the close proximity making you prone to holding your breath and making your words coming out strained. “I’m not going to beg for it.”

“You already have,” he reminds you, not an inch of him giving away that he might be unravelling. “And I think you will, sweetheart. I think you are seconds away from begging for it.”

As if in answer to his outrageous insinuation, a shudder racks through your bones and flashes of that wild battle make your nervous system rush to life again. It’s so frustrating, to have so much energy begging to be released.

His solid eyes and steady hands on your waist make you want to sink into him for relief. You want Bucky to tear you apart, almost similar to the way he tore apart those monsters earlier. Calculated, precise and only slightly unhinged. His fighting earlier was like a choreography your body wanted to study and practice until it can memorise nothing else. The way his muscles moved, the precise strikes of his metal arm, the focused crinkles in his handsome face, his thick thighs planting him firmly onto the ground – your ground. Fighting for your lands. For you.

My queen, he had called you. You suppose he does answer to your commands, then. But you might just beg for it. If only because it feels so tempting. To whine for his pleasure, sob for it and make him serve you like he wanted to do earlier. How awful, for a queen to want to beg for it.

“Please,” you almost gasp from holding your breath for too long.

He hums, low and deadly, his finger kneading gently and appreciatively into your soft flesh. “That’s a good girl,” he murmurs and before you can shout in outrage, he slowly dips down and presses his pillowy soft lips to your collarbone, instantly making your head tilt backwards.

His hands pull you close enough for your front to be pressed to his and your hands automatically grab his shoulders. His lips part and his tongue traces a singular line over the thinnest piece of skin on your body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His mouth moves up, tongue dipping in and out to raise your pulse as he suckles at your skin. Your fingers curl slightly and your body starts to nearly shake with jitters at the adrenaline coursing through you like an electrical charge.

Bucky bites down on the tense skin beneath your ear where he hums against you, the sound ringing in your head like a gong. His hands have travelled to your back, stroking up and down the bare skin until your bra pops loose with you barely noticing. You tremble with need when all you are left in are your panties and Bucky pulls away to once again sink down to his knees.

You swallow hard at his stare from below you and follow his silent command to sit down at the edge of the bed. Hooking his hands around your knees, he presses them apart and lifts one leg over his shoulder. Your fingers dig into the soft sheets with anticipation and you only break the intense eye contact to watch his tongue trace his bottom lip. He hooks your other leg over his shoulder and drags you to the very edge of the bed, getting comfortable on his knees.

“Is this where you want me?” he asks, but you don’t deign to answer him. “Kneeling before my queen.”

“Something tells me you don’t mind being there at all,” you answer tightly and his hands stroke up and down your calves lovingly. Bucky presses one kiss to your inner thighs, taking in a big whiff of air and groaning at the smell of your arousal.

“There is something about eating a meal on my knees that speaks to me,” he drawls, his eyes settling on said meal, only covered by the thin fabric of your panties. He presses another kiss, right over the damp fabric. You shudder.

“Then eat,” you bite back, scrambling to hang onto your power as a queen.

Bucky gives a wide grin, keeping his eyes on your soaking core. His hand lifts and his finger loops into the fabric, making you bite your lip painfully hard at the brief touch. He pulls the fabric to the side, spreading your legs enough for him to dive in, but not doing so yet. “That is no way to speak to your soldiers.”

Your soldier, Bucky supposes after today he is. You’re torture. Your smell, your voice, your body, the sheer power you have over him – over everyone.

Your hand finds his hair and you rake your fingers through the thick, brown tresses. Your eyes are soft when Bucky looks up to find them. “Will you take the honour of being my soldier?”

You’re genuine, he’s sure of it. Bucky can tell you’re asking him for so much more than just this. And considering his current predicament, he will consider his duties as your soldier later. Right now, he can only nod, entranced by the queen who has her legs wrapped around his head. He can only think of one duty right now and that is to rid you of all of that devastating warrior energy the only way he knows how.

Bucky buries his face between your legs and begins his feasting. Nudging his nose against your clit and prodding his tongue in and out of you. Licking every inch of your warm, wet, lovely cunt as if it’ll guarantee a place in your kingdom for him.

Sam will kill him for never returning home, but by the heavens, he can’t find it in him to care enough. Not with you tasting so heavenly and– fuck, those goddamn moans.

…

He was right, he was so fucking right. The slow and steady and longs thrusts make your body hiss in delight. The thorough swivel of his hips when he’s buried into you as far as possible, releases every bit of pent up energy that suffocates you. The sharp snap of his hips right as he’s about to hit home makes you shudder and sob, clenching around him every time as if you feel every thrust like the very first one.

Bucky strikes your deepest spot with each one, your hair between his fingers, your back arched to meet him and your cheek pressed into the mattress. Your eyes flutter painfully against your will, your toes curling when pleasure wraps around every abdominal muscle, your pussy spasming around him in need for release as the pressure between your hips grows to be unbearable.

The sounds that slip from your parted mouth sound inhumane. Soft and pitiful whimpers between huffs of breath. Oh God, oh God. You need him to slow down for a second, except he’s not going fast at all. He’s slow and deep and oh God, he’s so fucking deep.

You grapple for a grip in the sheets, any tether to reality slipping from your mind after every move he has already made. The last of your control, your power as a queen, slips away from you on a phantom wind, desire clouding every piece of domination inside of you. It’s all his now, you are all his now.

Within a short second, you get hauled up by your hair, arched against his heaving, sweaty chest until his mouth nips at your earlobe. Your hands grab his hips behind you, nails digging into his firm skin.

“You still there, my queen?” he coos, and you feel his grin as his mouth grazes over your neck possessively. Your answer is the harsh tightening of your nails into him and the groan he lets out makes you clench around him wantonly. “Oh, somewhere. You’re somewhere in that sex-riddled brain of yours. Losing your mind a little, are you?”

You swear you mean to speak a sentence – a word, at least – but the sound that comes out sounds like another garbled moan and Bucky laughs at your demise. He quickly presses a loving kiss to your shoulder, a deep thrust settling him so deep inside of you, you flutter helplessly around him.

“Don’t worry,” he hums, another deep thrust following as the hand in your hair slips to securely grip your throat and move your ear back to his mouth. “Next time, I will let you take the reigns. You can tie me to the bed and use me to make yourself come. I’m looking forward to it, actually.” You pulse around him and he snickers. “Oh, you like that, don’t you? Prefer to have control and use the ones that serve you.” He bites your ear softly and squeezes your throat. “Oh, but you look so pretty like this. Don’t take this away from me, sweetheart.”

It's a whirlwind of emotions that rush through you at his words. You feel his desperation to have you like this seep through his ignorant confidence having you exactly like he wants you. The last of your working brain cells are screaming yes, yes, yes at his request. You’ll let him have you like this every day for the rest of your life. And it flashes before your eyes, him waking you up by slowly fucking you, hand back in your hair and lazy mouth muttering filthy things against your skin. God, he’s filthy.

Your vision is swirling as his pace picks up and blood flow to your brain is slightly limited by his grip. Ecstasy is rushing through your head and limbs with heavy tingles, and your moans raise in pitch. The metal hand bruising your hips with its possessive grip, slides between your legs and messily toys with your clit, the feeling making you want to buckle over.

“Shit!” you gasp and throw your head back into his shoulder, thighs quaking at the stimulation. Too much, it’s too much. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel every inch of him glide in and out of you with an ease and precision that feels degrading and embarrassing. Bucky’s breath is equally laboured now and his grip on you turns from possessive to desperate, like he cannot get enough of you into his hands.

“Come for me again, my queen,” he purrs in your ear, knowing what that term now does to you, and you nod blindly. Following his command blindly, unable to resist the feeling of his deep thrusts and his firm circles on your clit any longer, you let the warmth of your orgasm consume you. You tremble and shake and stiffen at his touch and he doesn’t stop. “Come on, keep coming. Keep fucking coming, baby.”

You choke out a sob, surely drawing blood with your nails as you gasp for air, for any word to make him ease up on you, but he only stops when you buckle over and your trembling form succumbs to the sheets below you. Curled up on the sheets, bearing the waves of pleasure that haunt your every nerve, you feel Bucky’s exhausted and sex-glazed eyes watching you carefully. You faintly feel the trickle of him come pulsing out of you and it nearly makes you smile.

Two hands, one scorching with heat and one a welcome cool, gently stroke up the sides of your thighs, cooing sounds coming from Bucky as he watches you come back to your senses. Lips follow his soothing touches, warm kisses being pressed to your quickly cooling skin.

“How’s that post-fight energy?” he asks softly and your eyes finally flutter open to meet his curious ones, the blue shimmering with… Pride.

“Fuck,” you pant, “you.”

He laughs, “Again?”

You breathe a soft laugh and he at last presses a kiss to your lips. If you had the energy, you know your body would betray you by lifting your head to chase his lips.

You finally let out a defeated sigh, letting the corners of your mouth lift to a lazy smile. “Thank you.”

“At your disposal,” he mutters back with slight amusement and you open your eyes again to look at him. God, he’s beautiful.

“Are you,” you dare to ask, earnest in your eyes, “at my disposal…?”

“It would be an honour.”

“Likewise.”

“That is more than I’ve ever had before.”

“The honour?”

He nods. And then leans in, his mouth brushing your ear as your eyes flutter closed again, goosebumps rising over your skin. “I will bow for you any day,” he breathes softly, “my queen.”

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

♡ handwriting analysis: alex turner and miles kane ♡

as promised, here is the analysis my wonderful friend (who used to work as a professional handwriting analyst) did of miles and alex's handwriting! a couple of important points to read before you dive in:

my friend analysed these blind - to avoid bias, she always makes a point of never knowing whose handwriting it is she's looking at, so she had no idea that these samples were from alex and miles while analysing them (not that it'd have made much difference if she had, she can't even name one am song lol)

she stressed that her analysis should NOT be taken as fact - it's just one person's interpretation of the material, and handwriting analysis is ultimately always subjective

the two analyses below are based on notes i took while she was talking and is pretty much verbatim - none of the wording is my own and i have changed as little as possible in typing it up

she noted that it was harder to provide a full and accurate analysis just working with photos of handwriting, as you can't see things like pressure on the page etc. she also stressed that context is significant when it comes to interpreting someone's writing, and it's important to bear in mind that how someone writes in one context, e.g. signing autographs or writing something for the general public could show quite different characteristics to how someone writes in another context, e.g. personal letters to someone they're close to. in an ideal world she'd have access to samples from a different range of contexts to provide the most detailed and accurate analysis. in other words, this analysis is quite rough

alex's handwriting:

(samples taken from roughly 2011 - 2018)

block capitals suggest this is someone who don't want to show themselves, makes it hard for people to reach them

someone interested in thoughts and ideas, would engage with these in a way that's intelligent and very original

a lot of emotional and social inconsistency, suggests someone pulled in different directions. they might show very different sides of themselves with different people and probably have complex and/or conflicted feelings about identity

very creative, someone who'd make interesting and unusual connections about the world around them

highly intuitive but also lacking harmony from an emotional perspective. lots of internal emotional conflict and changeability

someone who fluctuates a lot socially as well as emotionally - might go from being quite sociable to withdrawing completely. ultimately struggles to reach out socially and holds back a lot, but there might be certain situations or people they feel particularly at ease with where this is different

really hard to read, don't give much of themselves away

thoughtful and enquiring, interested in ideas

someone who feels things very strongly

signature:

implies someone hiding themselves or presenting as someone they're not. they want to look confident and exciting, but they're actually much less confident that they'd like to appear. lets their creative and artistic tendencies hide them and take centre stage.

miles's handwriting:

(samples taken from roughly 2022 - 2023)

a little sharp, could suggest humorous wit and/or being critical (either of self or of others)

ambitious and incisive, intelligent and enquiring mind

fearful or wary about opening up and reaching out to people, emotional inconsistency. potentially quite restrained - looks like someone used to hiding a lot of hiding of emotions

has an enquiring mind but isn't particularly interested in abstract thought, more grounded in reality and social/emotional things

someone with strong feelings, they get held in and confused. could be warm and open on a surface level, but looks like they'd be reserved about their innermost feelings

could be sharp tongued to avoid dealing with their own feelings

lower zone suggests someone who might not be completely comfortable in their own body and/or sexuality, or have a complex relationship with these things

someone with a tendency towards strong feelings and devotion/worship (could be religious, or could just be to do with the way they relate to people or ideas)

signature:

someone who wants to look more confident they feel. sense of changeability and flashes of insecurity, but ultimately suggests strength of character, not someone who's a pushover. they know what they want and what matters to them.

interesting extra notes:

the wonderful @ballad-of-what-could-have-been managed to find this sample of alex's handwriting not in capitals from when he was much younger (from what i can see, it looks like it was early fwn era):

so i showed this to my friend too (after her analysis of alex's usual writing) and noted that it was probably done when he was a lot younger. she said that all her points from the original analysis still stood, and that despite the fact this writing isn't capitalised it was actually still very hard to read and definitely someone not comfortable with showing themselves. she also said that it was more emotionally conflicted and uncertain than the later sample of their handwriting. the phrase "emotionally all over the place" was used, and she noted a greater sense of inconsistency with identity. overall though she said the earlier sample confirms that this is someone with a high level of intuition and originality, and she said they're someone she'd be fascinated to have a conversation with!

thank you for reading! if you have any questions, please feel free to comment/drop me an ask and i can always pick my friend's brain again the next time i see her!

[braceletofteeth]

he's got the fire and he walks with it

[highlynerdy]

Lost You Forever 2 Trailer!

English subs by me. If there are egregious errors, please let me know. Thanks @dangermousie for sending me the link!

[luck-of-the-drawings]

!!! FLASHING LIGHTS WARNING!!! [IM NOT FUCKIN AROUND!!]

REACHED THE CUSP OF 'THIS MAY NEVER BE ABSOLUTELY FINISHED N IF I DONT SHOW IT NOW, IT WILL NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY.' SO HERE, A PROJECT IVE BEEN ORBITING AROUND UHH SINCE 2021 OR SO.

[propertyofhog]

|| Itafushi !! Again !! ||

[bedlamsbard]

I have been dealing with how much some people hate Gambit for TEN YEARS and one of these days (not today) I am finally going to snap and pull this story. TEN YEARS. TEN HUMAN YEARS.

[kirayamidemon]

woof

[beryllineart]

Ummmm.... soooo.... I kind of went crazy and made DnD characters for the Undertale gang... and I've started a campaign idea in my head... and I want to make this idea a reality.

I'm considering making a sideblog dedicated to Undertale playing DnD where people can ask Dungeon Master Flowey questions, suggest NPC's or special items, and see a story influenced by the roll of the dice. (Like, literally. If someone gets a nat 1 and loses their soul or something, I will allow it to happen.) It would look something like this, but with more polished art.

Does that sound fun, or should I just post the character sheets here and leave it at that?

There will be DnD/Undertale shenanigans regardless, I just think if I did a sideblog I could make a longer story without feeling weird about it since this is my general blog.

[skitskatdacat63]

Hey do you remember all those videos of Fernando smelling flowers? Haha yeah....

[sabraeal]

to all the ghosts, Chapter 4

[Read on AO3]

Written for @kirayaykimura, who gets to receive all of my post-manga chapter soowon/lili ramblings. I am MANY DAYS late on this birthday fic, but thankfully I managed to squeeze it out before the crush of obiyukiweek!

As king, Soowon had been the conqueror. His armies served as Kouka’s sword and shield both, bringing kingdoms and despots to their knees, and yet—

Yet in the end it had been him prostrate on cold stone, his weakened body aching, nauseated from the effort of existing under the oppressive weight of the consort’s killing intent. He had been too proud to tremble, too stubborn to retch, but with every passing second his skin prickled with anticipation, certain that he could feel the sting of the guandao’s keen edge on the bared flesh of his neck. That even as he crouched there, ragged breaths painting the pavilion, the blade slipped between the segments of his spine, severing the tangled thread that kept him tied to this failing body.

It felt like mercy.

There was no room for warmongers in the world Yona meant to build, least of all broken men. Or so it had seemed, until the blade failed to fall. Until Soowon stood, facing the stiflingly silent crowd, and began to understand just what shape his punishment was meant to take.

Still, it comes as cold comfort that this is not the most desperate reunion he has attended on his knees.

Ice snakes down Soowon’s spine; an insidious chill, settling deep in his bones and seeping into every pale corner of his too-human flesh. His breath could mist in the air if enough of it could escape to make a difference.  The queen might stand eye to eye with most men of Kouka, but she falls short of Hak’s looming inches, the strong set of her even armored shoulders lacking the imposing breadth of his. They aren’t armored now— at least, not that Soowon can see, swallowed up beneath the generous swath of her cloak— but she doesn’t need bronze or bone to protect her when her bearing is as implacable as any army he has ever met on the field.

Her reputation may be as bloody as his, her ruthless pragmatism memorialized in just as many poems, but there is no sword in her hand, no arrow’s point grazing the vulnerable column of his throat. The men in her shadow may be considered armed even without steel, but like him, the queen’s hands are harmless bare. Clean.

The same cannot be said for their conscience. He sees it in the tremble at the corner of her mouth, in the way her fingers stiffen instead of clench. She will not kill him, not today, but— only just.

“Your Majesty,” he manages, so even, more stall than statecraft. Manufactured space to think, to decide just how he would navigate this meeting on his knees and still maintain a modicum of Kouka’s authority. “To what do we—?”

“Princess Kouren!” Every trained hand races to touch its blade, but not a one of them manages to lap Lili. “Oh wait, no— Your Majesty! You’re a queen now, aren’t you? Or is that only after all this coronation stuff is over?”

The room is strung tight, blades quivering like struck strings in their sheathes, ready to fly at the barest strum— and all because of a slip of a girl, a mere streak of black and blue painting herself across the three steps it takes to throw her arms around Xing’s queen. It would be amusing, if the situation weren’t so deadly serious.

“Are you all right?” A ridiculous question when she’s the one with a half dozen blades pointed at her back— but Lili’s never once bothered to notice the danger she’s in, and Soowon can hardly expect her to start now. “You’ve been doing well, haven’t you? It’s been forever since we’ve seen you, and you never write…”

Those too-clean hands splay in the air, hovering mere inches from Lili’s shoulders; eyes that had seemed so cool mere breaths ago now sat wide and uncertain. Soowon may have first come to Xing as its conqueror, but still, he has never seen its queen so thoroughly routed. She might have anticipated steel and subtlety or iron and treachery, but Xing’s queen had not accounted for the unerring accuracy of Lili’s regard, as ruinous as any loosed arrow.

Were he a more feeling man, Soowon might pity her. Instead, he is only bemused by the Water Tribe’s wayward daughter and her penchant for taking ruthless royals beneath her wing. How fortunate that the war had not lingered on long enough for her to get it in her head to ride out towards Kai. There were few indignities Soowon had not learned to shoulder since he’d been cast down from this throne, but suffering through a simpering Chagol would have taxed even his tolerance.

“Lady Lili.” Fingers tremble as they press against Lili’s back, cutting perilous crests into the blue wave of her robe. Cautious, at first, then clenched, and with no more than a ragged sigh, Xing’s queen does not so much clasp as collapse around Kouka’s most stymieing noblewoman. “Forgive me. There has been so much to say— too much for mere letters. But I have been remiss in not making the attempt.”

“You have,” Lili agrees with her usual petulance, stepping back with a pout far more playful than any she’s ever swung in his direction. “I’ve had a lot going on too, you know! Yona made me her advisor, for one. And now my father’s talking about me taking over the headship, even though I’m definitely not general material.”

Xing’s queen slants her gaze over the thin slip of Lili’s shoulders, lingering significantly upon every gripped hilt. For a moment, Soowon is nearly certain that her mouth curls, but if it does, it is so subtle as to disappear between one blink and the next, more apparition than amusement. “I do recall a letter in which you imparted a similar sentiment.”

“Because it’s true.” Lili does not quite disentangle herself from the queen’s grip, but she does lean back, fixing the unerring arrow of her attention onto the masked man at the royal heels. “You’ve brought Vold with you? Is Tao here too, or—?”

“Princess Tao is in residence at the palace for Her Majesty’s coronation,” the man— this…Vold explains, cloth tugging across his mouth in a way that nearly implies a smile. “She will be glad to know you are in fine health, Lady Lili.”

“But shouldn’t you be with her?” A single glance at the guard to the queen’s other side is enough to convey she doesn’t recognize— or think much of— him. Just like every other man under thirty. “You’re one of her stars, aren’t you? If anyone’s going to follow Kouren around, I would have thought it’d be Yotaka.”

“I did not intend to make this an official, public visit.” The queen’s hands flutter back beneath the dark swath of her cloak, mouth tilting wryly. “And though there is no question of his loyalty, Yotaka is hardly the most…discreet of all my stars.”

To put it mildly. The war may seem like a lifetime ago, a calamity that happened in a different age, to a different man, but a wild storm of gray slumped between his soldiers stays vivid in his mind, a man wounded enough to still be bleeding through the bandages hidden beneath his robe— but still, his chin never dipped, never even trembled as he raised it to meet the gaze of the man certain to be his death. I always thought the son of a demon would have a more grotesque face.

“I had meant to only take Baram to meet you, but when my sister caught wind of my plans...” Another twitch at the corner of her lips, a ripple in the still lake that is Xing’s queen.

“I’m afraid Princess Tao was quite insistent I come along.” The masked man bows his head, humor hidden in every angle. “Part of her eagerness to renew your acquaintance, Lady Lili.”

“I’m excited to see her too! It’s been forever. But, wait” —Lili whips around with absolutely none of the accusation she would have leveled were he the recipient rather than Xing’s queen— “how did you know we were in Kyuu? We weren’t scheduled to arrive until tomorrow.”

“I received reports about a commotion in the market between a known swindler and some foreign woman.” One royal brow lifts, an invitation to fill in the rest of the details herself. “When I sent my men to investigate the issue, I was told that a young woman matching your description had left in the company a tall, soft-spoken man fair of both face and hair. Though we hadn’t known which of the Empress’s advisors would be sent with Lord Soowon, it seemed likely that you had both come ahead of your procession…”

“I…” Soowon would hesitate to call anything about Xing’s queen warm, but there is something like it in her eyes when Lili gapes, mouth opening and closing like the koi Joon-gi kept in his gardens. “But…”

“It seems, Lady Lili,” he says, deceptively bright. “Your confidence in our disguises was quite unfounded.”

If glares could kill, the one Lili whips at him would render his flesh to little more than a royal pile of ash. However it cannot, and he survives, offering her his most mild smile.

There is little that delights him, but Lili’s huff comes close, arms clamping shut over her chest with all the finality of the gates of paradise. “I wasn’t with him. He just showed up!”

The queen’s eyebrow lifts. “As you say.”

Her stare skips over Lili’s shoulder like a stone over still water, but it’s his stomach that sinks when it settles on him. It’s different than the last time they came face to face—  him the benevolent conqueror and her a supplicant brought to her knees by little more than circumstance. Loathing and contempt had radiated from her as she knelt in her borrowed robe, both bust and bandages exposed as it hung from the bare bones of her shoulders. But now her eyes meet his, and they are not curious or caustic or conspiring but assessing. Less a sovereign surveying a threat, and more a monger at market, weighting the profit of a purchase against its loss.

It’s a relief when she finally turns it on Judoh instead.

“Forgive me my poor manners. I came here as a guest.” Xing’s queen draws to her full height, and even unhorsed, unarmored, she is every inch the fearful form that had cut across the plains of Kai. “Vold.”

The masked man straightens, eyes drawn to his queen like ore to a lodestone. “Your Majesty.”

“Talk to the proprietor. Have him bring a pot of his best blend. And whatever he considers the best of the inn’s offerings.” One large hand unfurls, benevolent smile never quite reaching her eyes. “There is much to discuss.”

*

Lili’s barely got her chopsticks around a slice of pork belly when Soowon just slides right out and asks, “To what do we owe the honor of Your Majesty’s attention?”

If she could have reached— which she can’t, not unless there’s some way to pass right through General Judoh and his impenetrable abs without another lecture— she would have put an elbow right into his side. Let the spur of it sink right into his squishy little tofu belly. Maybe then he’d finally learn a set of manners that didn’t end with him smiling over a steel edge.

Thankfully, Kouren is a reasonable person. Instead of telling him to mind his own business— like Lili would, if he tried to take that arch little tone with her— she simply smiles, folding her hands neatly over her lap. “I’m afraid that after her time in Xing, I found myself quite inspired by Yona’s example. When I heard that Lady Lili— and yourself, of course, Lord Soowon— were in Kyuu, I imagined that I might be able to surprise you in town so long as I could pass myself off as one of the townsfolk.”

“How charming.” Soowon’s eyes do that stupid squinch at the corners, the one meant to make him look harmless when all Lili gets is constipated. “My cousin will be honored to hear that you remember her so fondly.”

Kouren’s not silly enough for all this squinting and posturing— she’s a real queen, the kind that cleaves through injustice, that dons armor and commands the respect of her generals, that speaks and is listened to despite being born a daughter instead of a son. So when she answers Soowon, it’s head-on, straightforward and unerring as a spear. “That is her gift, I think. Being remembered fondly.”

Her father may have wanted her to be a wife rather than a general, but even Lili can’t miss the unspoken, unlike you. And Soowon certainly doesn’t, the silk of his spider’s smile stiffening where it’s spun across his face.

“Congratulations are in order, it seems, even if they are much overdue.” There is no twist when Kouren’s attention turns upon her— not even the slightest hint of torsion— but simply an incline of her chin. A nod almost, eliding into a hint of a smile. “I will have to compliment Her Majesty in the wisdom she has shown in the selection of her advisors the next time we speak.”

Lili squirms on her knees, hoping Kouren can’t make out the pleased flush spreading over her cheeks. “It’s really not that big a deal. I think I’m just the only Water Tribe member she knew besides my father.”

It’s the sort of humility that would get Kouka ladies fanning themselves, long sleeves fluttering as they rushed to titter and fawn. They’d be all-too eager to assure her that the empress would surely need a woman’s voice to keep her council comfortable, that somehow Yona might quail beneath the weight of a man’s opinion without another female to shore her up.

Kouren only frowns. “It is no easy matter to weed out tradition by the root, not even with the love and support of your people. To disband the council of generals and replace every voice on it…Her Majesty would not have chosen any one of them lightly. Least of all yours, Lady Lili.”

“Well sure, right, I know that. I was only…” Her teeth snap tight over, being polite. All those months in the palace might have gotten her brushed up on her bowing and blushing and composing poetry-perfect scraps of practiced humility, but no one in this audience will be impressed by it, least of all the woman who would have bled out to save her kingdom.

But it’s too late to protest now, too late to insist she does know her worth— how can she not when there’s a fool like Kan Tae-Jun seated beside her, barely knowing his left from his right let alone the price of rice? Oh, sure, he might have her beat when it comes to logistics, especially when it comes to supplying the remote villages in their most far-flung territories, but common sense—

“It was a necessary change,” Soowon says smoothly, that stupid squint still looming over his smile. “Keeping a council of generals would hardly lend much credence to my cousin’s new era of peace, after all.”

Kouren’s expression shutters with a speed meant to catch fingers on the sill. “You hardly need to tell me. For too long Kouka’s kings have allowed their warhawks to pick the carcass of this peninsula, playing at conquest when all they care for is plunder. Yona has done well to rid her ears of their whispering. If only the rulers before her had been as wise, they would have done it long ago.”

The barb’s so pointed Lili’s surprised it doesn’t actually draw blood. And yet Soowon doesn’t even flinch; no, he just sits there, that too-wide smile of his softening until his eyes lose their squint. Something real haunts the corners of it when he says, “I couldn’t agree more.”

Lili’s never been much for spirits— oh, she might let herself get a chill from a good story, or have her own imagination run wild when she’s strode halfway down a too-dark hall, but that’s for fun, not because she actually believes in that sort of stuff. But as Soowon settles back on his heels, less diplomat and more decoration, she could swear she sees through the edges of him, like a spirit caught in sunlight. That she’s watching him fade the longer she sits here, keeping her mouth shut.

He’d been Yona’s enemy once— and Kouren’s and Tao’s and maybe hers too, if she sat down and thought about it real hard, like she tries not to— but he’s also never expected her to perform for him, to play sweet Lady Lili and pour out tea and flattery while he does her the honor of tolerating her attention. And, well, that might be a weird way to make a friend, but that’s what he is whether she likes it or not, and a friend wouldn’t just let him shit all over himself without saying something.

She just wishes she could come up with something better than, “Ayura will be sad she missed you.”

Both queen and conqueror look up as one, blinking in tandem. It would be eerie, if she wasn’t so busy trying to sound normal, to notice. “I left her back at the castle with Yona. I mean, since we were already taking Judoh, it seemed a little...”

Redundant, that’s what Judoh called it, while Yona’s mouth pursed tight. But Hak had nodded, agreeing with whatever math generals did to decide these sorts of things, and she’d done the same. But it felt strange to say it now, like maybe she thought of her guards as completely interchangeable, not people but pawns she could swap out when it pleased her, no emotion whatsoever.

“Much,” she settles on, lamely.

“A pity,” Kouren says, and to Lili’s surprise, she’s sincere. “I had hoped to give my gratitude to all of you, when we next met. But I promise you, you will be safe here, even without both your retainers.”

Lili blinks. “O-oh, I didn’t mean to say that I…I mean, that you…” Ugh, Yona picked her to come here because she was supposed to be able to word better than her limp sheet of a cousin, and here she is, unable to string a sentence together that won’t cause a diplomatic incident. “Thank you, Your Majesty. It’s an honor for you to take such interest in us.”

She can’t bow over her hands like she should— at least, not without an awkward shimmy or knocking over her whole dinner— so she settles for a sedate bend at her shoulders, palms pressed tight to her thighs. It’s a pretty good compromise, in her opinion, but when she looks back up Soowon’s got his eyebrows all lifted— practically a guffaw when it comes to him— and Kouren’s got one corner of her mouth hitched up, like she’s considering a smile.

“It is the least I can do.” Kouren glances toward where Soowon sits pushing rice around in his bowl, trying to make it look touched, if not eaten. “Xing must have left you with a sour impression during your last visit. I do hope that you will for once get to see it as it is meant to be seen.”

Soowon shakes his head. “I could say the same for Kouka. If Xing had not helped with our efforts to rebuild, my cousin’s reign would not have started with such a stable foundation.”

Kouren waves a hand. “Think nothing of it. It was Xing’s great honor to help Her Majesty in her time of need. I would not have a country if Yona had not reached out her hand to me during mine.”

“You are too kind.” Lili nearly rolls her eyes at how practiced the words are, a reflex rather than any actual feeling on Soowon’s part. “Though I am sure that my cousin and her consort would be happy to receive you again, so you may see Kouka at its best.”

“I would like that. Very much.” Her mouth tilts, wry. “Perhaps we shall see after this coronation.”

“Yes.” Soowon’s fingers tighten on his chopsticks, smile stretched up to a squint. “I suppose we shall.”

[superbattrash]

I wrote a thing for @battybat604's beautiful (and brain rotting and haunting and amazing and-) art. You should, yaknow, check it out, if you like slightly possessive Clark and petty, little shit behavior from Bruce :)

Summary: Bruce has been acting weird all week and when Clark sees him at the gala they're both attending, he has a hard time keeping himself in check. Because of course Bruce chooses tonight to show just how much of a brat he can be.

Excerpt: It’s not often that Clark snaps. But even the most flexible people will encounter someone who makes them feel less like a spring and more like a twig held a little too tightly. So easily breakable, snapping more often than not in the pressure of their hands. That person for Clark is Bruce Wayne.

[gomzdrawfr]

I listened back to a song I used to loop and thought to myself "hey wouldn't it be cool if you turn it to an mv like what you always do"

[squishosaur]

um!! fantasy movie time <3

bonus scene btw

[artkaninchenbau]

Jumping deeper and deeper into the unknown, Even within such nonsense and incoherence, There should be a piece of truth buried~🎶 Ghost Game's finale aired today, and I'm sad to say goodbye to The Baby Boy and the rest of the gang. I loved these characters so much, I'm gonna miss them ❤️