#hh and hair shading too

[keeps-ache]

i've been listening to the tangled soundtrack for like three days in a row now. life is ~good~

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

thinking of your nightmare but as lady dimitrescu...hehehe...

this was supposed to be a quick doodle GHGJHG hope you like lady dimidnightscu<333

[castellankurze]

The psyker's forearms had been replaced by simple augments - unadorned pipes leading to basic manipulators with fingers like cleaning rods that mimicked the shape of human hands. They sat limp in the man's lap. Apart from the occasional slow blink, he'd made no move to shift position for some time, his head rested against the back wall of the cell. He was a rangy thing, tall and lean, his long, unshaven face marked by pocks as if from terrible acne scars or perchance some manner of shrapnel, cheeks lined by reddened tear tracks. His hair was grayed. At a glance one might have pinned him as a man in his fifties, a tragic fate for one nine and twenty.

The man that pulled out the chair opposite and sat in it was much the opposite, blocky and square-faced, his eyes hidden by shaded lenses. The psyker showed little reaction as the Inquisitor pulled himself up to the table and set a dataslate atop a stand where both men could view the screen.

He pushed a button and a scene began to play, the sound filtered through the speakers barely loud enough to be heard. Gunfire flashed through the vista of a battlefield, the camra centered upon the figure of a man fallen to his knees. His arms were outstretched, though not in welcome but rather in horror, his hands clawed as if struggling to grapple with some monumental force.

Then it leaned into view. An abomination. A thing that should not have been. A long, inhuman face of horn and bone and cartilage and long, scythelike teeth, eyes glowing with a malevolence felt even through the small datascreen. A face large enough it could have been mounted to one of the Imperium's knight-titans, jaws parting as the bio-form closed in on the comparatively miniscule human. As its mouth opened, it began to howl, an unearthly sound of bone-chilling vibration that filled the world and made the dataslate's speakers crackle and between the two figures the air could be seen to waver and sizzle as invisible forces pushed- The Inquisitor jabbed another button and the scene froze. All throughout the playback, his unseen eyes had been locked to the figure across the table. He had studied the footage more than was sufficient to commit the scene to memory. The psyker had reacted to the display, at least to the extent that his own dull, sunken eyes had risen to watch the footage play out.

"Tell me what you felt," Kryptman said. Long moments passed in silence as the psyker's eyes drooped, bobbed upwards again, drooped once more. Kryptman didn't hurry him, watching his every twitch in the silence of the too-warm room as the seconds slid languidly by. Finally, a parting of the lips, a subtle swallow. "Mm...mfelt like," the man murmured in a dry voice, speaking as if for first time in his life, "I wwas..." blink "...an algae. Beinng... swallowed by a whale." A blink. A breath. "A whale that...hh-hhated me," he said, voice shuddering, "ffor being...too small t'be worth the effort. T-too small for the hunger it had, like...it could eat and eat and never stop eating, and it was desperate to have me even though it hated how worthless I was because it had to have me and anything else that could feed it because it was so hungry and it hated that I was the next thing to eat."

Like a tumbling rock down a mountainside, the psyker's speech had gathered speed and clarity until it abruptly seemed to reach the end and shut off. All throughout his tone was gray, exhausted.

Kryptman waited for several seconds more before resuming the playback. He knew what came next - the norn emissary miraculously subsumed in a tidal wave of fire and smoke as the rocket artillery dropped, even at the moment the camra picked up the distinctive wobble in the air around the psyker's outstretched hands. By some miracle of chance, the camra had stayed in place to continue recording as the smoke and dust cleared, a hazy outline of the psyker still knelt in place, hands held out before him, a crescent of clean ground around his body. It had continued to record until the reinforcements had found him, still rooted to the spot, arms necrotized up to the elbow by psychic permafrost.

Inquisitor Kryptman didn't wait for it all to play out. Instead he pressed buttons on the slate that stopped the footage and restarted it, but this time the gunfire was muted, all but inaudible. Instead a man's labored breathing could be heard as if he heaved directly into the pickup. This time, as the terrifying face of the norn emissary leaned close, a whisper could be heard at the edge of sound, entreating "Emperor protect me...Emperor...protect...me, Emperor..." The voice of the man that sat opposite him now.

He jabbed the button to pause the footage once more. "You called out to the God-Emperor," he said. "Do you credit His intercession for your survival?"

Once more the psyker's eyes wavered, and this time as the moments passed the corners of his mouth began to tremble. "No," the man croaked. "I couldn't feel Him. There was just Her. There was only Her." He began to sob, lifting his pipe-shaped augments from his lap and pressing the cleaning-rod fists to his eyes. Inquisitor Kryptman deactivated his slate, gathered up the damning evidence, and left the room.

[sinner-sunflower]

A HH Lucifer-centric AU 11/?

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

I'm sorry if this feels a bit fast-paced but I am not writing 1 month's worth of Luci's journey on Earth alksjdlas

Everything is tying up very nicely.

The ending is already being written and this chapter has a lot of clues on what will happen next.

To any ARTISTS or WRITERS who want to make something based on this AU, you have my full permission! All I ask is I want to read/see it!

Your reblogs, likes, and comments are much appreciated.

And feel free to chat with me if you have any theories or AUs or this AU of your own!

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

The thing about being immortal and whose existence started since the beginning of well- everything- is that it is literally just a concept.

Centuries feel like minutes. Days into seconds. Seconds into basically nothing.

Hell, the only reason why Lucifer knew 7 years had passed since Lilith left was because he was counting. He wanted to be reminded of the pain of losing the first person he ever loved.

Call him a bad father but he genuinely doesn't know how long since he has seen Charlie.

He knows it's been a while but he didn't realize just how much longer it was. He missed out on so many years of his daughter's life because he couldn't stop being fucking sad.

Charlie probably has something to say about that mentality but he can't help it.

So when Lucifer takes a whole month of scouring Earth before he finds what he's looking for, he curses himself.

Didn't he just arrive on Earth a few hours ago? Now that he thinks about it, following that wild duck chase (it's goose, dear) should've been a dead giveaway that he was taking too long.

He should've known seeing the sun and moon appearing at that many intervals meant days were flying by.

It's not entirely his fault. Pride's days and nights are basically the same- plus it's not like he needs sleep. It was bound to fuck up his body clock.

Judging by how there are no effects in the human world yet, they're still probably keeping the Roo situation at bay. He's grateful for his siblings but it only makes him move more urgently.

Lucifer arrives at a grassy field on a hill in the middle of nowhere.

It was warm, but the wind is making sure the skin doesn't burn by the sun's rays. He looks around and spots a woman-like figure under the shade of the line tree- her short hair dancing with the wind.

Lucifer walks loudly to her but she doesn't acknowledge his presence. Only when he is standing in her line of sight does she react.

Unknown: Hello, Lucifer.

Lucifer: Goodie.

The Good of Humanity. The being he unintentionally corrupted by his actions.

Goodie: To what do I owe the pleasure.

Lucifer: I need your help. It's about your sister.

Goodie: Hmm? Well then. Come sit. It appears we have a lot to talk about ~

Lucifer sits and takes a deep breath.

Lucifer: Roo- Roo is breaking out. It's only a matter of time before she fully escapes and we are not strong enough to seal her back up again with her stronger state. Hell will-

Goodie stops his rambling by placing a hand on his.

Goodie: Calm now, angel.

Lucifer:… sorry.

Goodie: You say my sister is coming back?

Lucifer: Yes. She's eating her way out of hell and if we don't stop her soon, my people- my family are going to die. I am never above begging so please- help us.

There was a pregnant pause before Goodie spoke up again.

Goodie: I do not have the power you are looking for.

Lucifer: But..

Goodie: But! I never said I would not help.

Lucifer: you'll help Hell?

Goodie: I am the embodiment of good. I can see how much of it someone has inside their heart and right now… your heart is as full as it is pure.

Lucifer: Then how can we-

Goodie: I can lend you something that shall be enough to contain her. But for this to work, I need one thing.

Lucifer: What is it?

Goodie finally meets his eyes. He felt like he was looking at everything he destroyed- the failed project that is humanity.

Goodie: You.

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

What to look forward to in Part 12:

Luci comes back to hell with Goodie in tow.

Some conflicts started by the overlords

The Lucifer finally gets involve in the ritual

[evilfloralfoolery]

Along Came Fire - Avery/Blair, Pt. 2

A lot more snz and misery in this lol. Avery showing her true colors. Blair being unbearably into it. Both of them wondering about the other. Plz enjoy my hasty edit! :)

_____________________________

By the time the heaters in the stadium get the memo, the set is over and Blair has had just about enough of this frigid bullshit.  

He’d managed to fend off whatever fuckery his sinuses were concocting during the performance, but now, it’s gotten to the point where no amount of shallow breathing and nose rubbing will do the trick. His body has just had enough of him.

And the feeling is fucking mutual. 

Blair cringes against his knuckled fingers with a flash of teeth. "HhhRISSCH! –RIIHHHSSCHuh! EKTSSCH! UhhhCHHSSSH!" He pauses, breath a hitching, ragged heave. "Hhh–RIISSSCCHHiiiuuhh!"

"What, you're not going to try for an even six?”

He stops with the miserable, wet sniffling and glances over his shoulder.

It's her. Just standing there with a laminate around her neck, like she belongs there. No idea where she’d gotten the pass, but he’s not going to ask questions, especially not with the way she’s looking at him right now.  Kind of like how the Blond Wonder looked at him, but with a more curious sort of concern rather than outright, overly empathetic gawking.

Hard not to stare back at that mane of hers with all the red, orange, and yellow competing for space, a vibrant cascade of fire that has the nerve to call itself “hair.”

“Hey.”  She waves a hand in front of his face with a bit of a laugh. “Are you okay in there?”

He offers her a slow blink in tandem with the realization that he has said nothing to indicate an answer.

“I am,” he says.  “Just too damn cold.” One eyebrow arches high.  “Are you?”

She tilts her head. “Cold?” 

“Okay,” he clarifies. 

“Oh! Yeah, I’m fine.” She combs her hair away from her face with one hand and laughs. "I’m pretty sure I left puncture wounds on that idiot, so there’s that."

Probably.  He hadn't missed how aggressive she'd been. Kind of a firecracker for such a slender chick.

Hot.

"Yeah, well. Guys are assholes." He offers her a smirk.  "But I'm a bigger asshole." 

"Good quality, if you ask me." Her smile is a sly mirror of his own.

“Damn straight.”  He tugs at the knot on his bandana out of habit.  “Avery, right?” 

“Yep.” She pokes him in the chest with one finger.  “You didn’t tell me you were the bass player.”

Cue the smartass eyebrow arch. “You didn’t ask.”

“I don't usually introduce myself and then be like, ‘so, do you play the bass?’ ”

“Why not. Good conversation starter.” 

She flicks a piece of his hair with a pop of her fingers. “You're weird.”

He’ll take that.

But what he’s not going to take is any more shit from his sinuses.  Sort of.  Goddamn it.

She does the curious, cocked head thing again at his abrupt change of energy and asks the obvious question.  “Something wrong?”

“Nothing. It’ssss uuhhh-hhhheh!” He holds up a hand to politely silence furthering questioning, breath catching in his throat with a choppy attempt to draw in enough air. "Heeh-hh. . . Hh'RISSSCHU! Hkg–CHISSSHUHH! Fuck."  He rubs at his nose with a sniffle. "Hhngh, sorry. The cold fucks me up."

"I can tell," she says as he sneezes again with twice the force and less control. 

Goddamn it. 

"God bless," she says in this voice that's somewhere between concerned and a bit. . . something else. 

Interesting . . . 

"Stick around and you'll get sick of saying that real fast," he says. 

She laughs, but doesn't refute him. She does, however, close the distance between them unexpectedly.  "Hold on." A hand reaches up to adjust the apparently lopsided bandana tied around his head. "You're about to sneeze this off." 

"Heh, thanks."  He fiddles with the knot on the thing and tightens it. "Wouldn't be the first time." He regards her with a slow, assessing tilt of his head.  “Feel like sticking around?”

Her eyes are the lightest shade of honey gold he’s ever seen.  And to think she asked him about contacts.

“Sure,” she says. “You might need someone to fix that bandana again.”  A faint hint of super white and slightly pointed teeth peek from behind her lips,  which is so absurdly attractive to him, he shoves a hand in his pocket to keep it to himself. 

But that still leaves him with one.  Which he holds out to her.

It only takes her a second to decide to fork over her fingers, which slide into the width of his palm like something delicate and precious.  Compared to Blair, most people are on the smaller side, but while Avery is tall, she's particularly slender of frame, a fact that is emphasized by the tight black pants and matching bodysuit with strategically placed fabric slashes she’d chosen for the gig. It highlighted the fuck out of her multi-colored hair.  Like autumn leaves in a jeweled pit fire. 

“Hungry?” he asks as he leads her down the rowdy expanse of the corridor where musicians and techs alike are loudly congratulating themselves over the success of the show.

“I could eat something,” she says.

So could he. 

______________________________________

The booth is a semicircle, not one of those across the table deals. And she sits close to him, so close that her leg presses against his thigh. 

He's not sure what he's done to elicit that kind of contact, but he wants more. So, he does the cheesy movie thing and drapes an arm across her shoulders, casually at first, but when she willingly curls closer against his side, he ups his game with an upper arm squeeze. 

Damn, she smells good. Like spring rain and oleander. 

"Are you still cold?"

He nuzzles her thick hair. "Not as much." 

Mainly because she's a fucking furnace, like a personal space heater. No complaints from him. 

Well, except for the goddamn prickling the "defrost" is causing in his sinuses. No, dammit. He's not unwinding his arm from her lithe body. 

He unrolls the napkin-wrapped silverware and snaps the thing open, but doesn't quite make it. 

"HhhRISSCH! ISSCCHUH!"  His lip curls away from his teeth in a snarl of irritation and he clamps the napkin over his mouth and nose. "AahhRISSCHuh! IKGSSSH-U!"  He sniffles and dabs at his nose with a hint of a smirk. "Hnnnh, sorry I'm so goddamn sexy." 

She laughs in a high, almost tittering way that is reminiscent of something he can't quite place, but he likes it. 

"I think I can handle you." She hooks a piece of his hair that escaped his bandana behind one ear. "God bless." 

Her breath tickles his ear and coaxes the hair on his arms to stark attention. 

"Hmn, thanks." His voice drops to a lower, darker version of itself. "You want a steak?"

"Sure," she says. "Purrs" is a better word. "I like meat." 

The way she says that is hotter than it has any right to be.

"Yeah?" He rubs at his nose with the back of his hand. "How do you like your meat?"

Her lips brush the line of his jaw with scantist touch. "Extra rare." 

Okay, fuck it. 

He shifts his body just enough to slide a hand into her hair and leans in close, pausing just shy of capturing that mischievous mouth of hers. Makes her wait for it. Teases her with a faint exchange of breath.  But when the tip of her tongue darts out to just barely flick his lower lip, he’s over it.  

And damn, can she kiss.  It’s electricity and fire, the slow, smoldering promise of something far more urgent, but deftly restrained. His body finally gets the message and switches on the heat until his skin is feverishly hot.  Sharp nails dig into his shoulders just enough to make temporary, pointed crescents in the flesh and he sits back against the vinyl seat as the kiss recedes, the faintest wisp of smoke curling from his lips. 

“Goddamn.” His eyes flutter shut for a moment and he exhales a breath from the depths of his chest, as if he’d been holding it for hours. 

Nails drag down his forearm in a light, affectionate scratch.  “Been a while?”

“Oh yeah,” he says.

A long fucking while. 

__________________________________________________________

The seated dinner had turned into “fuck an hour wait, room service is better” and man, had he made the right choice.  

The idiots in the kitchen had forgotten the steak knives and rather than ask some underpaid kid to go seventeen floors down to get a couple, Blair and his “date” had opted for the more barbaric option. 

Just pick the shit up and eat it. 

Now, watching Avery snack on that rare slab of meat was hotter than any porno could ever be.  There is something primal about the way she takes small, but efficient bites of the steak, the way she sort of tears off a chunk and licks her fingers afterwards.  And when he doesn't eat the entirety of his own steak, she finishes it for him. 

Where the hell had she put it all?  The woman is a slender wisp of a person.

If that’s what she actually is. 

It's the same thing with Caspian.  A flash of something wild. That “otherness.”  He’s seen it before. Plenty of times. 

“I don’t usually do this, you know,” she is saying as she licks the last of the blood and juices from between her fingers. 

“And what’s that?”

She flashes him her super pearly whites.  “Eat meat with strange men.” 

He chuckles and it morphs into a bit of a cough, reminding him that the surge of heat between them earlier hadn’t been enough of a catalyst to jumpstart his body into actually doing anything about his damn "illness."

Her expression morphs from playful to concerned and she sets the plate on the nightstand.  “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.”  He wipes at the edges of his nose with a clean napkin and winces.  “Still too goddamn cold, I guess.”  

That fucking nose ring.  Not like he could just take the bastard out without some pliers.  Special ones. 

Avery moves closer, but he holds up a hand to stop her progress, his breath hitching in ragged, uneven catches.  

“Hhheh—!  RISSSCCH–UHH! ISSCCHHU!  Mother. Fucker.”  He growls to himself and drops the napkin in favor of the box of tissues that she’s now offering him.  

Fuck it, he’s taking the whole box.  

“Thanks,” he says in a tone that is way more grumbling grouchiness than he means it to be.  

But she’s obviously not put off by that because she’s suddenly right beside him, her hand on his thigh, even though he’s gross as hell whilst taking care of his dripping sinuses. 

“Sorry,” he says with a sigh.  “Was hoping this shit would just let up or fuck off.” 

“Stop apologizing.”  She rolls her eyes a little and he’s reminded of the same exasperation Caspian uses for Miami, which is more than a touch amusing. “I’m not worried about your cold or whatever it is.”  She tosses all of that flaming hair over one shoulder.  “I like a guy that can be a hot mess and own it.” 

Blair laughs.  “Jackpot, then.” 

“You can lie down, you know.”  She pats the top of his free hand.  “It won’t hurt my feelings if you’re tired.” 

After tossing the tissues into the trash, he slips her fingers into his palm and scratches his thumbnails over her knuckle.  “Mmn, I’m not that tired.” 

She leans in for a kiss and he affords her the opportunity with eager reception. Doesn't stop her when she presses herself against him again.  In fact, he pretty much pulls her into his lap and she’s happy to be there, given the way she’s kicked off her boots and settled in.

“I’m not contagious,” he says.  

Her hands slide over his chest and clutch the fabric of his shirt.  “Wouldn’t care if you were.” 

“Want me to take this off?” He tugs at the edge of his shirt.

“No,” she says.  “I want to take it off.” 

If his eyebrow arched any higher, it would disappear into his hairline.  “Okay.”  He leans back against the bed frame and lets go of her hips.  “All yours.” 

(TBC...)

[mapis-putellas]

Let me help you

Pairings: Natasha x you

Words: 1668

Warnings: none

Summary: Natasha arrives home sick from her latest mission.

Natasha sniffles softly as she wipes off her clammy forehead with the sleeve of her shirt. The remanence of her foundation stains the black material as she pulls her hand back, and though she frowns slightly at the sight -this was one of her favourite shirts- the feeling of becoming exceedingly overheated was taking full priority.

Why in the world was it so hot in here? Was the AC broken or something? With a disgruntled frown, she shifts in her seat in a little in hopes it would help ease her uncomfortableness. It doesn't work, and with a watchful eye on the rest of the people in the room, she begins trying to subtly fan her face with her hand.

You watch her from your place sat opposite, eyes narrowed in suspicion. You were currently sitting through yet another team meeting, and it felt as though Tony had yet to stop talking.

Natasha had been a little quieter than usual today, and you'd initially put it down to her not getting enough sleep. She'd had a pretty tough mission yesterday, and she hadn't gotten back until the early hours of the morning. That wasn't even mentioning the fact she was up again by six to workout.

But that thought had gone out of the window when you'd kissed her earlier. Her skin was almost too warm to the touch, cheeks flushed a light shade of red suggesting a fever. You, however, had no time to question her, because Tony had sent her off to do mission reports.

That was four hours ago, and you were about ninety nine percent sure her fever had only gotten worse. Especially because you knew Natasha wouldn't have had the thought to take any medication. A barely audible sniffle beaks you from your thoughts, and you look over and see Natasha subtly trying to wipe her nose on the sleeve of her shirt.

Her eyes were shiny too, and that along with the way her nostrils were flaring tells you she was doing a pretty good job of trying to stifle a sneeze. This continues for about ten minutes, and it was only when a tear of frustration streams down her cheek do you finally excuse you both from the room.

You take her hand and lead her a little away from possible prying ears and reach up to brush the loose hair away from her face. She had forgone her usual braid today in favour of leaving it down.

"Let it out," you softly instruct, and Natasha hesitates only briefly before shutting her eyes and bending forwards at the waist. She sneezes openly towards the floor, a welcomed relief for her sinuses you were sure.

"H'htschoo! Huh'tsschoo! Hh...H'tsshiew!" She uses the end of her shirt to wipe at her nose in a futile attempt at quelling the rising itch. "H'htschoo!" She groans slightly at the strength of the last one as she sniffles thickly.

"Bless you," you murmur as you take a step closer to her, and Natasha simply nods.

"You okay?" You ask as you cup her warm cheeks, using the pad of your thumb to wipe away the wet streak that was still there from earlier.

Natasha sniffles swiftly as she nods, "I don't think you are, baby." You disagree, making sure to keep your tone as unacusing as possible.

Almost immediately Natasha's eyes grow shiny, and you watch as she clamps down on her bottom lip with her teeth to stop it from quivering. Two tears somehow manage to make it down her cheeks anyhow, and that seemingly gives the flood gates permission to open.

Another set of tears fall before she lets out a choked sob, and your heart breaks at just how silent she'd managed to make it. With a small frown, you move your hands from her face to her upper arms and pull her body to rest flush against your own.

"It's okay," you sooth in a soft coo, pressing your lips against the top of her head. "We're gonna go home, and I'm gonna take care of you, okay?"

The thing was with Natasha, is that she's only stubborn for a little while. She insists she's okay and gets on with her day like normal and denies any accusations of being sick. But then you coddle her and love on her and it's like she's a completely different person. She's clingy and whiney and all she wants is to be held.

You knew it was what she needed right now, and you so badly wished she'd been honest with you from the beginning so you could have looked after her from the get go.

Natasha nods, but with the way she tightens her arms around your body, you knew she wasn't quite ready to let you go. Deciding to placate her need to be held for a little while longer, you press your lips against the top of her head in a lingering kiss and begin to ever so slightly rock her side to side.

A little over five minutes later, you'd excused both Natasha and yourself from the meeting and were in the car and on the way home. Not even a minute had passed before Natasha was dozing off against the window, your jacket under her head acting as a makeshift pillow.

Her mouth was slightly parted, and her fist was tucked cutely beneath her chin. At each stop light, you'd find your eyes instinctively drifting over to her on their own accord. You hated that she was sick, but you absolutely adored just how cute she looked.

When you make it back to your shared apartment, you make quick but quiet work of unbuckling your seatbelt and grabbing your things from the cup holder before climbing out of the car. You tuck your phone and wallet into the back pockets of your jeans before heading over to Natasha's side, pulling open her door and using your hand to stop her from tumbling out to the ground.

"Nat? We're home baby. Let's go inside." You attempt to rouse her as you gently brush a sweaty strand of hair out of her face. You would've carried her inside without question, but the only time she really allows you to hold her like that was when she was sure nobody else's could see. It was a different story completely in the privacy of your own home, however.

The red head immediately stirs at your light touch, eyes flickering open and drowsily taking in her surroundings.

"Home already?" She asks as she rubs at her eyes, and you nod as you reach around her to unbuckle her seatbelt.

"Yeah, home already. Let's get inside, okay?" You offer out your hand, and Natasha takes it and allows you to tug her out of the car, watching as you close the door and lock the vehicle behind her.

With a thick sniffle, she was allowing you to guide her into the building and over to the elevator. You'd take the stairs on a usual day, but with how close Natasha looked to passing out, you didn't want to risk over exerting her already tired body.

It takes only moments for you reach the floor your apartment was on, and the second you had unlocked the door and coaxed her inside, it was as though a switch had been flipped.

She reaches up onto her tiptoes and wraps her arms around your neck, prompting you to bend down and wrap your arms beneath her behind before lifting her up into your arms with practiced ease. She felt even warmer than she did earlier, so you head straight towards the bathroom with the intention of getting her some medicine.

You ease her down onto the counter next to the sink and grab both the Tylenol and cough medicine from the cabinet perpendicular to her head.

"Ew." She grumbles as she watches you pour a dose into the small plastic cup, and you smirk slightly as you hold it to her lips. She visibly hesitates, and you soften slightly as you place your hand on her thigh and give it a soft squeeze.

"Come on, baby It's not that bad." You further coax, and though Natasha sighs, she takes the medicine and swallows with only a slight grimace. "Good girl. Now this." You offer out two Tylenol, placing them onto her tongue when she opens her mouth.

Natasha, again, swallows, coughing thickly into her arm when her breath catches after attempting to clear her throat. You pat her back softly with a frown of concern on your face.

"You okay?" You ask after she manages to get herself together, and Natasha nods, taking your offered hands and sliding off of the counter. You give her hands a soft squeeze before walking her back through to the bedroom. "Go get into your pyjamas, my love. I'll go make us some tea."

"Okay." She murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before disappearing into the small walk in closet.

After taking a few moments to get comfortable yourself, you were making your way through to the kitchen with the intention of making the promised tea. You pause momentarily in the threshold to turn on the lights, squinting ever so slowly at the brightness as you grab two cups out of the cabinet before beginning to boil some water.

Your tea was soon made, and after grabbing a few snacks from the pantry, you were making your way back through to the bedroom where Natasha was sprawled out on the bed, eyes closed and breathing soft. With a small pout, you set down the tea and snacks onto the nightstand before leaning over her and placing your hand on the back of her head.

With the knowledge that the best medicine when you were sick was sleep, you simply pull out the covers from beneath her and tuck her in before pressing a lingering kiss to her cheek.

"Sweet dreams baby."

**

This didn’t come out as good as I hoped it would, so I apologise

@goldenempyrean @mywitchy-assassin

[myuminji]

Hi I'm uh. The uh. The shelters main. Thank you for the kind words. I'm usually v shy so i rarely talk unless poked but I'm glad the outfit swap thing has resonated with you because i swear that vash is. Haunting me. Makes me understand why people self-ship i literally cannot. Boo boo the fool made up a guy to be unwell about.

Anyways also wanted to. Tell you that your mini wolfwoods are the forbidden delight and a special treat always, they are literally so. I want to squish them like stress toys. 100% stampede wolfwood is a kitty cat.

In general i really love your art style, it looks so round and dynamic. Absolutely floored by how you can make shapes pop with minimal amount of lines............ Learning each day how to draw from the masters. Thank you for posting such hardcore posts they replenish my stamina in these trying times.

HH H HHI? I can't believe you'd even be around here im so honoured hello!?@#$?! hi! I relate so well about the talking part so thank you so much for dropping the ask im so!! I need to confess when I saw your ww outfit swap I kinda scrambled and doodled vw in it as well bcs i was internally dying the whole time (i was shy tho so i posted it on my priv HHSFDG) i humbly present my poor attempts...!! 🤲

(I completely forgot to spike his hair up, they ran out of gel)

And I could say the same to you about your art honestly?! opening tumblr going to your page immediately and getting floored when I saw smth new you posted like!!!??!?!?!!

Idk this make sense but i cannot stress enough how I lovee the way you draw anatomy. like bodies. they look solid. there is matter atoms in that. nice. I love the way you draw faces so much too gawdd those expressions using simple strokes, and they're super distinctive too!! like i can immediately recognise which is who, but wait have i talked about how i love your expressions? i actually have a tab open at your silly drunk vash THE WAY HE STARES IT'S SO. OURGH.

and your inking?? immaculate, stunning, show-stopping, out of this world, I cant stop observing how you built the shapes just with the use of contrast shading, your lines are so clean and confident! efficient! super shaped!

lastly thank you so much for liking my miniwood series!! I couldn't be more happy to see ppl enjoying this silly thing (gives me excuse to draw them more tbh HAHAHA)

[chaselynnreads]

The Pact: Chapter 1

Emerson:

Freshman Year

“Dad, are you kidding me?” I ask in disbelief. My sister Brenna bites down a laugh. My dad on the other hand stares at me like I'm the crazy one. “Emerson it will not be as bad as you are making it seem.”  I roll my eyes at that. My father is the head hockey coach at Briar University, where I am moving into tomorrow. Correction was going to, my dad wants his four new freshmen to live with me. 

“Come on Em take it as a compliment.  Obviously dad thinks that living with these boys will be good for you.” Brenna says while laughing. I sigh loudly for both of them to hear. One thing about growing up with a hockey coach is that I know that sport in and out. From the actual rules and how the game should be played to how these kids act. Dad will complain or praise them every single night. Dad says that all freshmen guys want to do is bang girls. He said that these four boys are going to be great, that they have so much potential to be pros. He shouldn't be wrong considering that one of them is Phil Graham's son.

“You will be living with four guys Em. I need these boys to be focused on the ice. I need them to eat, sleep, and breathe hockey. You need to be their female buffer.” I roll my eyes for the 1,000th time tonight. “Damn dad way to make a girl feel good about herself.” I tell him. He glares at me. “Please be good about this.” He said quietly. “I know it’s not ideal I truly do. I just really want you to do this for me Em.” 

I go up to Brennas room and sit on her bed. She walks in right after getting out of the shower. “You need to call me if they are hot. Get me a man” She said. I chuckle. Brenna and I have always been close with each other. We are two years apart but we could literally be twins.  My hair is shorter and a shade of brown lighter than Brenna’s almost black hair.  The only other thing that helps tell us apart is my boobs and Brennas butt. See my ass is practically non existent but Brenna’s looks like she should be Kim K herself. On the other hand my boobs are giant. I promise its not a flex. Being a 32 HH at fourteen was a horrible time. Im now a 34 I and it's not a fun time. 

“Bren I’m going to miss you so much.” I told her. She looks at me with sadness in her eyes. She smiled slightly. “ I love you so much and i'm so proud of you. I just know you are going to do great things.” She is silent for a moment. When she looks back up at me her big eyes are filled with tears. 

“Mom would be so proud of you Emmerson.” She whispered. I gave her a sad smile. Our mom died when I was 7 and Bren was 5. “I know B. I love you little sis.” I hugged her tightly. “Just for the record, mom would be proud of you as well. I’m proud of you.” She lets the tears fall over her lash line and hugs me again.

The next morning comes too fast. I look around my empty room and go through all my memories. As I walk down the stairs my dad is standing at the bottom of them with nothing but pride filling his eyes. 

I tilt my head and ask “What is it?” He looks at me. “My baby girl. You” He stopped. “Emmerson, you are such a beautiful woman.  I’m so proud of the person you have become.” 

“Oh dad.” I said, wrapping my arms around him. He let go of me and wiped his eyes. “Let's get you to school.”

  Brenna and I finished decorating my room an hour ago.  Now Dad, Brenna, and I are cleaning up from lunch. I turn and see them looking at each other. Dad turns his head to me and says “Well, that’s it honey. Bren and I are going to go home.” I look at Brenna who runs to the other side of the island to hug me. “I love you. Talk soon?” I hug her tighter. “Always B.” 

Dad joins us in a group hug before kissing the top off my head and leaving the two-story townhouse. Brenna gives my hand a squeeze and follows him out.

I sit in silence before turning around and start putting my dishes away. 

When I stand back up I’m met with the most beautiful greens eyes on the planet.

[nvrcmplt]

"Hold still..." Darc has a frown on his face as he helps Lance out. His grip is a tad too tight when holding Lance still but the cloth soaked in disinfectant is gently dabbed at the injured spot. His eyes seen to bore more holes into his friend, various emotions swirling in his chest and mind. Darcy didn't like seeing Lance like this, but he also felt pride in being able to help. But there's another thing that rose its head; an urge. He can't help but stare at the small drop or red that trickled down slowly, how it left a trail of red behind. Darius is but a weak man, controlled by instinct most of the time. It's not like he thinks, rarely he does, leans over to catch the drop on his tongue. He licks his way up, following the path the drop had made all the way to the wound, the cut. Lips press against it rather firm and parted just right, to allow his tongue to swipe over it, again and again. There's a weird pleased sound at the back of his throat, making itself known.

He didn't really know when it happened but a cut on his shoulder, just behind it - on his back was oozing red. He only noticed it really when he got home after wandering for jobs as usual and he got itchy. When he went to itch he flinched at the stinging and when looking at his fingers, he was red. So, thankfully Darcy was home after him, just in time. Though when he showed the other his shirt, the blood patch was bigger than just a mere cut. Stripping with Darcy panicking was a moment flailing, but Lance soon was put in his place. Sat in front of Darc who had the first aid kit out and whimpering as he does at the sight of any blemish on his body.

A picture was shared, seemed like a deep scrape that pulled skin, Lance didn't really know when it happened but it came to him eventually. The wall, he was pushed into it by someone not paying attention. He guessed the shock of being ran into dulled the actual injury and with it just weeping into his shirt - he didn't feel it with his focus being elsewhere. Now though he could feel the pain in it, specially with Darc cleaning it out with the tweezers, cotton ball and sharp scented disinfectant.

Speaking of which, made his bow his back with soft hisses as the cleaner got where it needed to be. "Am tryin'." His huffed reply to the others ask for him to stay still, he closed his eyes and rolled his knees up to his chin to rest on them with a huff. He knew he could have a nap whilst Darcy fawned over him like he was losing a limb instead of just this but he liked the attention, the care, the softness they had with him. Made him feel something better about himself, that he wasn't just on the cusp of the world, someone with nothing for them anymore but in Darc's world. He was his everything.

Staring across their room and taking in the small possessions they had, he was startled when he felt something warm and wet trail down his back only for it to be trailed up. Head about to raise to ask what that was, he found himself choking on his words at the sensation of lips… Of Darc's nose on his skin, of his hair tickling his shoulder, their touch hot all of a sudden to his cool self. "…hh?" The sensation rattled him, it hurt, in an irritating manner of it being pressed on, but the rest of it? The licking? Lance felt like it was racing down his spine. His skin blotching in clear blush - one that shot up his nape and ears, his face a victim to the shade as he tensed and breathed a little heavier into his knees.

Fingers twitch, the stinging and the soothing licks shouldn't feel like this to his current hurt but it was rattling hard in his mind as he sat there. Disbelief and yet not at all, in the same moment. Darcy was… has been a little more handsy recently, over the pass few months at least. Something changed in them that night of confessing a little bit about being each other's safe space. Lance, was starting to understand things a bit more here and there but he couldn't say for certain he was completely knowing upon what it meant to be just each other's everything… Was this part of it? Darcy's tongue on his skin? His lips kissing his hurts? The grip around his stomach that was growing tighter?

He felt his lashes close, shuddering with an unexpecting pleasure zinging through his thighs. His groin hot, and cheeks burning - he knew, he knew he was hard. Not an idiot in that nature but to be aroused like this? It was scary. So, he did as he always did, in moving to smack at Darcy's knee as he clenched his thighs tighter and glared over his shoulder --- though being as red as his jacket in the closet, he didn't say anything else but squeeze at Darcy's leg to get him back on planet earth. "H--- hurry up, I need the bathroom." Because he was going to run, and run and run and run. Darcy couldn't see him like this, not in this state - but he couldn't bleed everywhere - getting blood out of the floor would cost extra.

Sanity before rage, hold it, hold it.

[accidentalmistress]

Towards the end of the AM story Sugar We're Going Down, Oraion mentions his butler back in the Demon Realm, Catherwood, who he claims is "beyond reproach." I hadn't really intended to do much with Catherwood, but he has started taking up permanent residence in my brain, demanding to be developed and fleshed out. Rather rude of him, tbh. Anyway, without further ado, allow me to present:

Mordecai Amadeus Catherwood

Mordecai is a fallen angel who currently works as the Head of Household Staff for one Lord Oraion Moncerius Leroux.

Mordecai is utterly loyal and devoted to his Master, a rare trait in the Demon Realm, and he is the very picture of the perfect butler. Well-groomed, intelligent, unflappable, prompt, prepared, and punctual—he takes on any and every request made of him with superb skill and aplomb.

His hair is straight, blonde, and about chin-length, while his eyes are narrow and violet. He has pale, freckled skin, though of a far more human shade than the ghostly gray pallor of his Master. He is of average height and slender build, having a somewhat androgynous appearance. To underestimate him, however, is a deadly mistake. Mordecai is one of the most skilled assassins of the Demon Realm, and arguably of the Mortal Realm and Celestia besides.

[TW: blood]

Mordecai quite enjoys the satisfaction of a job well done. (Picrew here)

The status and security that Oraion enjoys as a Demon Lord is in no small part thanks to Mordecai's skills, in both household duties and tasks of a more violent nature. "You keep what you kill" is often the unspoken law of the land in the Demon Realm, and Demon Lords come and go in near constant rotation. At full strength, Oraion is formidable in his own right, and, with Mordecai Catherwood behind him, his position has gone unchallenged for millennia.

Like Oraion, Mordecai possesses wings that are hidden most of the time. Unlike his Master, however, Mordecai's wings are feathered, as they were in his angel form. No longer the pure white of his days in Celestia, his wings are now ash gray, with scorched, blackened tips on his primary feathers.

In my setting demons and other demonic denizens don't normally sneeze. Oraion's contract with Noelle makes him unique in that regard. If Mordecai were to somehow also acquire the ability, though, I imagine he would be somewhat sensitive to dust. Letting his sneezes out would be far too uncouth for someone of his position, however, and so he would be a habitual stifler, with at most a "hh-kssht!" being audible.

Cleaning days at the manor would be particularly irksome, as the imps employed on the housekeeping staff tend to be a touch overzealous with the dusting. At least they haven't broken anything important lately...

I have not written any fics featuring Mordecai, nor do I have any planned out as of yet, but I'm sure he will make an appearance sooner or later. There's only so long he can allow his Master to remain missing, after all.

[dearestaeneas]

WIP Wednesday (on a Thursday!!)

my beloved @figsandphiltatos tagged my main in this and i think it’s such a fun idea!! check out their stuff, they’re currently working on a retelling of the Telemachy from Peisistratus’ perspective!!! and it’s so good!!!!! go read their work!!!!!<333333

i haven’t worked on much over the holidays, but i did spend the majority of nanowrimo working on the same piece! i’m almost scared to finish hh so sometimes i fear i��ve been dragging it out to avoid the inevitable (but also, i’m still having fun, DAMMIT. who would complain since i’m still using it to build characterizations and relationships? it’s GOOD. i’m having FUN.)

here’s one of the more recent updates of hh!<3 i was on the fence about introducing Lux (because spoilers?), but i just...fell in love with him immediately. introducing him alone is why i’m also deciding that maybe i’m not ready to start the process of finishing abc yet!

tagging @wikipedie @coffee-laytte-two and @courtjester69420 (although, no pressure!!!!)

happy last out of touch thursday of the year!

--

The Old God groaned. Todd rarely stayed Backstage without Branwen present, but he’d insisted she go ahead without him. It pained both him and the Old God to see her so distressed, and her lack of resistance was in itself a cause for concern. Todd stepped forward and held the Old God by their shoulders.

“Mmmrgh.” Tell me.

“I wasn’t lying,” the Old God protested. “Ardan being here is a good thing, and he does adore that girl. Her and Celeste, and you. There’s nothing any of you need me to say about it.”

The world melted away. Grays of all shades dripped from the iron wrought furniture and the cafe’s front. The black of the cobble stone itself seemed to be receding away from the pair, being replaced with soft browns and reds, before disappearing altogether. The Old God stood facing Todd as trees seemed to spring from nowhere and grow up thousands of feet to scratch the sky. The Old God squinted against the deep greens and browns of the forest, as if a light had been shined directly into their eyes. In the distance the sound of waves lapping a beach roared.

Where Todd had stood was a short whose skin was the same light brown as Ardan’s. Her eyes and hair were the same shade of black, and her canines were far too sharp when she smiled joylessly.

“Where are we?”

“If you don’t want to talk to me that’s fine,” she said, letting go of the deity and making a show of brushing her hands off on her trousers. “I know someone who will.” With this, she turned and began off toward the waves.

Although the Old God was a monochrome idol in this place, they felt a color they didn’t have drain from their face. “Todd, not them!”

She spun around to face them. “Why? You know, he would really be an excellent ally to have! Sure, he couldn’t care less about the New Gods, but he loves Branwen. Do you really think he’d let anyone do anything that could hurt his little golden girl?” Todd’s voice dripped with a dare to be challenged. “I think he’d want to know if something was happening, since he can’t afford to keep tabs on her anymore, don’t you think?”

The Old God seethed. “Todd!”

She resumed her purposeful march to the beach, the Old God trailing behind her. They stopped right at the treeline, watching as Todd held her arms out as she walked toward the man.

He stood on a flat, gray outcropping at the beach’s edge, the water lapping up onto the rock to darken its corners. He looked over his shoulder toward the forest at the sound of Todd’s steps crunching on the sand. Upon seeing her, his face brightened, a feat which should have been impossible as the god cast a bright glow on everything around him. “My darling!” He shouted, voice booming over the waves. The Old God shuddered at the sound and concealed themselves behind a particularly thick tree.

“Lux!” Todd squealed as he lifted her into the air after closing the distance between them with imperceptible speed. He finally set her back down and held her face in his strong hands. She squinted slightly and he quickly released her apologetically, the gold of his skin having reflected directly into her eyes.

“What are you doing here, my dear?”

“I don’t want any false pretense,” Todd began. “I’m sorry this wasn’t a casual visit.”

Lux waved a hand dismissively. “There will always be time for that later.”

“I’m worried about Branwen.”

Lux’s face darkened and the sun that beat down on the beach seemed to dim. “Did that bastard hurt her? Where are they?” With this they turned from Todd to study the treeline. “They’re here, aren’t they?”

Todd reached out for his hand and turned his attention back to her. “They haven’t done anything,” she promised. “Really. But I need to talk to someone who’s always had her best interests at heart.”

The Old God strained to hear the continuation of the conversation, despite the pounding in their chest after Lux’s call. Strange, they thought in a moment of detachment. I don’t even have a heart…I don’t think.

“I try to. As much as I can,” Lux said, words laced with deep anger. “They have made it nearly impossible.”

“Lux,” Todd gripped his hand tighter. “Listen. I know you can’t watch over her like you used to because of…”

“The parasite? Todd, we’re not supposed to feed off mortals like that! What do they call her, an avatar? There’s not a single god who didn’t know she was my favorite, and they still got to feed off all that belief. I don’t even know what the Nameless One calls themselves these days, but they shut all of us out,” he said seriously. “I don’t care about the others, Todd. She was my favorite.” The sky above the beach continued to darken.

She exhaled. Really, these gods and their tempers. She wondered if she was ever this petty with her siblings. “Lux.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, the sky lightening slightly. “You don’t care.”

He sighed. “What do you need?”

“You can’t see her, but you can see Celeste, right?”

The sky became completely clear, the sun beating down mercilessly. Lux brightened accordingly. “Of course! You know, I like her so much more than the last one. I’m sad to hear she’s having trouble adjusting to immortality, we need more immortals like her. But, of course, you know I like the sunny ones.”

“And…Ardan? The er, other one the Nameless One’s claimed for themselves.”

“Ah,” Lux said quietly. “Yes, I know him. Branwen likes him. That’s good.”

“Tell me why.”

“He’s in your blindspot, darling,” Lux said, resting a hand on Todd’s head. “Walk with me.” He offered an arm out to her, which she readily accepted, and the pair walked along the water’s edge.

The Old God peered out from behind their tree to follow Todd and Lux’s stroll further and further away from them. They cursed the god quietly, knowing he was well aware of where the Old God hid, despite well-acted ignorance. They watched as Todd stopped in her tracks to face Lux, his own face wearing a self-assured smile to counter her own look of horror. She stared back into the treeline, eyes locking directly with the Old God. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.

Todd held Lux’s forearm gratefully, her dark eyes locking with his yellow ones. “I can fix this,” she said.

“Yes,” he agreed. “You can. Now get that monster out of my domain.”

She hugged him close and his arms warmed her skin. “Next time will be one of those casual visits,” he said. She broke away and nodded before starting back toward the trees.

“And Todd?” He called behind her.

She turned. “What?”

Lux stepped forward slightly. “I want you to bring her with you when you come. Celeste too.”

Todd smiled then. “Of course.”

[feetoffire]

horses of RA: Blaze

she's beauty she's grace she laughs in Gilan's face

Kicker Ranger ponies (overview) Tug, Abelard, Cropper Bumper

quick glossary:

withers: where the shoulderblades meet, positioned at the base of the neck

hands/hh: horses are measured in ‘hands’, which are the equivalent of four inches, from the ground to the top of the withers. abbreviated as ‘hh’ (hands high). if a horse’s height falls between two full hands (i.e. between 15 and 16hh), the number of inches over the lower hand measurement is added as a decimal - 15hh and two inches becomes 15.2hh (~157cm), etc

pony: anything standing taller than 14.2hh (~147cm) is a horse. anything standing lower than 14.2hh is a pony

mare: female horse over 4 years of age. mares are only spayed for medical or quality-of-life reasons, so there’s no separate term for a spayed mare

bay: reddish-brown or brown with black points (ear rims, mane, tail, lower legs). the shade of brown can range from fairly light to almost black

blaze: a wide stripe of white down the face

in all seriousness, i have even more thoughts about Blaze than i do about Bumper, because her presence in the working ranks of ranger ponies begs a lot of questions:

Blaze is an outlier on at least two, if not three, counts: she's tall, she's lighter built (which means her breeding is fairly different), and she's a mare. the height thing the obvious one: Gilan's tall (best guess is 5'6"), so Blaze is tall. she could be 14.3 hands and Gilan would still fit on her reasonably well, but given that she's described as lighter as well as leggier, i'm putting her at 15 hands even. a real bonafide horse 😁

with her build in mind, i imagine she has a minimal amount of Mongolian influence and a lot of Connemara (maybe some Camargue or New Forest too) and even more Arabian.

flanagan doesn't focus much on the Arridi/Bedullin horses, but they're an obvious parallel to today's Arabian horse. renowned for their endurance, full and part-Arabians dominate the endurance riding discipline, and i've watched half-Arabs do 2.5 hours of walk-trot-canter work without trouble. one of the school horses where i ride is an Arabian cross (idk his exact percentage) who is still happily toting little kids around on the flat and over jumps even though he's in his thirties (retirement age for most). these horses can go forever. it's why i think Blaze is at least half-Arabian - with less Mongolian influence than other ranger ponies, she has to get the endurance from somewhere.

Arabians have also been used to create, improve, and maintain other breeds since forever (they're possibly the oldest horse breed in the world); the only reason i haven't cited them before is a) they're grandfathered in at this point - they've influenced the Welsh ponies and cobs, among others - and b) ranger ponies are definitely more 'pony' than 'horse' in body, and introducing Arabian blood pretty much always creates a lighter, leaner horse.

so. Blaze is a 15 hand half-Arab/Arab-type mare with, presumably, a blaze and probably a very slight dish to her face. ('dish/dished' just means concave.)

here's the real reason Blaze gets her own post: she's a mare, and that raises so many worldbuilding questions. (she's also the only brown-haired female character flanagan ever put in ra but that's neither here nor there.)

ranger horses are products and participants of a highly-regulated breeding program.....so how does that program work? is Blaze exempt because she was paired with Gilan? are mares only used as working ranger horses if they have a full sister? do the mares retire early? does Gilan spend a year or so with another horse if Blaze is temporarily being used in the breeding program? i doubt the corps has enough money to continually buy more broodmares, so it has to be one of those options.

breeding program nonsense aside (i'm leaning towards 'exempt' or 'only when they have a full sister'), i'm actually a little surprised that mares aren't more common in the corps than we see. as anyone who has ever clicked with a mare knows, if she likes you and you treat her fairly, she will do everything in her power to do what you ask. mares have long been preferred by the Bedouin for war or raiding parties, since they're less likely to call out than stallions, making them the stealthier option. they're also more inclined to use their brain consistently, all of which seem like important traits for a spy's horse. like i said, i'm somewhat surprised that flanagan didn't include more mares (once the books went to print, at least).

anyway. Blaze is amazing and i love her

[sirdolce24]

Sarius

He was a boy of nineteen, sharp in wit yet lacking in literature. His teachers often scolded him for his hazy daydreams, that consumed the clock’s schedules and the lecture’s lost meaning, and would find him with his eyes adrift in some forgotten song. A forgotten song that he would humm when alone, when concentrating, when entangled in the messy art of loneliness and grief’s assualt. He never lied. He never murmured. His voice boomed however gentle, and it possessed a familiar warmth with it’s tones. While not entirely feminine, not entirely masculine, there was an androginy about him that was replicable of a poet’s prose - if too vague: an artist’s muse. And no matter how small, every stroke of his brush against the canvas that was himself proved none but quality craft - in an era so forgotten of these almost renaissance-like passions.

He never drawled his speech or wrote more than necessary. And I observed that in everything he did, there was an abruptness that would transfix on all immediate action - disregarding the unnecessary - before he ultimately escaped into himself again. While his hair wasn’t short, it wasn’t long. There was a perfect balance it it’s shade of golden and brown, and it was shared among all his prominent hairs. 

Once he left, the air stilled and I felt I had missed a page. 

--HH

[elkian]

Oh my GOD I think I figured it out.

Spoilers for In Stars and Time below the cut. Like, major, huge, endgame spoilers.

Okay okay okay.

So.

I'm doing the companion quests and as I walk out of the shop after Odile's I just. Poked through my Souvenirs and Used the coin on a whim. I cannot overstate how lucky this is.

Because I got The Incident memory.

And then I went and got Isabeau's Companion Quest for the first and hopefully last time.

You guys.

I was kind of wondering, with the words and books people can't read, and some of the stuff the King has said.

Oh my GOD so the first loop after King defeat, I didn't give the Flower to anyone, and I was able to give it to the King, and Siffrin mentioned a tradition that the King knew. That was weird! I should have caught that as weird!

And Siffrin and the King are the only named characters (up til the Head Housemaiden) who have light-colored hair. I think Antoine (the Beautiful One who talks about the party) might have it but virtually no NPCs have hair with a white shade fill. Hell, the King's hair fills the upper floor of the House and has since Start Again. The King even singles Sif out as "Bright one"!

Siffrin and the King and the baker in Sif's The Incident Memory are all from the forgotten country.

I knew the details there weren't on accident. I knew that had to mean something. It's not the kind of thing you bring up for no reason.

Siffrin's bad memory isn't just being scatterbrained, or even the timeloops. In the Running Away discussion (the first time, and only the first time) we see them forget a major memory mid-conversation. Siffrin's equipable Memory with the "Theoretically, you have so many to choose from!" has always had an irony to it, but it just gets crueler the more you go.

Siffrin and the King both use Time magic, both talk about and know about the Universe. Loop (who I really see as a player stand-in, but there's definitely more too them, too) mentions being a part of the Universe, capital U. The King says the Universe will decide who is right. The King wants to freeze Vauguarde because it is perfect, and welcomed a man with no history, with no name. The goddamn observatory section was SO conspicuous, it was blatantly obvious that it was important, i just wasn't sure how until this came up. Siffrin doesn't talk about his home country because he literally can't. Nobody can! Even if they could, his memories are getting wiped on screen and it is terrifying.

And the Colors... the Colors thing (capital C) feels very important. People just forgot how to see Color? That's weird! That's really weird! And the Head Housemaiden said something was rotten, broken. I think the 'code' of the world is messed up in some way. Whatever broke Colors vision also broke Sif's home country, his memory. Maybe not at the same time, but they're related.

(And the King calling Sif 'Bright One'.... can the King still see Color?)

And in Isabeau's companion quest, Sif acknowledges loving their friends, being loved, being happy. Sif and Loop agree that talking to the HH probably prevents Sif from achieving something. Siffrin is creating the loops because he doesn't want to stop being happy with his friends.

Sif really IS becoming the King, using Time Powers to 'freeze' a state where they can be happy. At the very very very beginning, Sif told Mirabelle that this was the happiest he can remember being (probably literally, between the blatant clinical depression and the lost memories). And I know it's probably obvious, but Sif is likely hungry all the time because they're burning calories to run the timeloop. And the King had no name, and Siffrin acknowledges only having one name, and I have to wonder - does Siffrin lack a family name by default, or was the memory of it taken from him?

I can't predict how this will play out, but... this is... damn.

I think we'll learn to read the unreadable text before the game can end, and I didn't hang out with Loop yet either, which is a huge shame, because I agree with Sif that I don't want to reset the companion quests.

I guess we'll see.

In Stars and Time SPOILER: I am sincerely wondering if this game will end with Siffrin becoming the King.

[windfaemaiden]

A friend started talking about monster girls and I forgot how much I love Alarunes.... Anyways I drew myself as one, I'm really happy with it. Gonna shade it later but!!! Lookit!! It's me but a plant girl. I added an image description in the picture as well! I've never done it before so I hope it's described well.

[armandyke]

I stan one invincible lesbian. 

Trying to focus on drawing faces right now so I’m probably gonna be spamming you guys with drawings of my OCs. I really like how this came out though, especially her lips and the scar on her face which I’ve finally actually made to look like a wound instead of just some skin discolouration. 

Full res version can be viewed on my patreon