#how to make wood filler

[woodjunctions]

Sawdust is a readily available base for homemade wood fillers, but you may need to explore alternatives in case of the absence of sawdust. Let’s learn how to make wood filler without sawdust to get different textures and welcome innovations in the woodworking field. 

[jinxthequeergirl]

The Ol switcharoo (pt3)

Stan pines x reader/ ford pines x reader

Summary: 30 years pass and you meet stanfords family.

Warning: NONE

Sorry for another short chapter. Consider this a filler episode. Chapter four should be better.

~~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~

30 years is a long time.

You can do a lot in that time.

You can live a lot of different lives in 30 years.

You started cutting your hair in that time, Stanford taught you to box, You'd gone on many different adventures. Most of which you often questioned the legality of, but they still made you laugh.

Now you mainly tended to the Mystery shack no more adventures, you wondered as you sat on the couch next to Stanford when you'd gotten so old. And when your life had changed so much.

You had almost forgotten all about anything before your family vacation. you and Stanford had grown into a pretty comfortable life together. You wouldn't lie you'd come to love the life you've grown into with him.

But you've also missed the adventures you used to go on, finding monsters , exploring the unknown.

But you were only met with gluing eyeballs to pieces of plastic halloween decorations and making up stories to make out of towns folk get a good laugh in.

You had tried to find Stanfords journals just to "relive the glory days" but with no luck.

You were never sure what happened to them, if he had accidentally tossed them out, if he had lost them himself or if that was part of what happened while you where away. Either way you stopped looking. You never asked about them either.

Stanford seemed to really enjoy his life with you too, you never got the idea he wanted to turn back or like he was waiting for some big adventure.

"This may sound corny but you and the mystery shack are my big adventure...I wouldn't trade you or the old shack for anything y/n. Not. For. ANYTHING."

So you stopped worrying yourself with the journals or the old research, let alone the real monsters that lurked in the woods.

You hunkered down, sold stories and bumper stickers in your matching suits and watched night time television before falling asleep on top of eachother every night.

This was the routine you'd fallen into. You found it odd if you had to sleep without Stanfords shoulder as your pillow or his jolt of laughter before he realized you fell asleep. It was odd for both of you to not debate who got giftshop duity over tour duties. (You always got gift shop.)

It was odd when a pair of twins arrived on your front lawn.

"You never talk about your family." You said following Stanford down the stairs to meet them. "Sure I do." He said clearly a little nervous.

"Mmm no...I didn't know you had a sister! Let alone great neices and nephews!..excuse us, Soos." You say almost chasing him through the gift shop almost knocking soos over.

He paused as both of you looked out the little door window at them. "Listen...I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my family... to be fair... we aren't really close..but somethings came up and-" You could see his stress building up as he tried to piece together something that made you understand how important it was to make a good impression on those kids.

You placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm here with you... you can explain it all later, but right now, I'm right by your side, like always." He smiled and placed a hand on top of yours.

Before heading outside to me, you are in tow.

"I DIDN'T KNOW I HAD A GREAT AUNT! A GRANT!? A GRRR...GRAUNT!?" The girl in the pair shouted excitedly after stan had introduced you to them.

"That's cause you don't. We aren't married y/ns a friend."

You laughed at the girl who energetically and enthusiastically introduced herself as Mable. The introduction was followed by several need to know now questions, all of which would later be scribbled onto a paper for you to fill out and return to her.

☆what's your favorite color

☆ do you like my grunkle stan?

☆if you were a magical creature, what would you be? Why? WHAT WOULD I BE? why?

☆do you LOOOOVEEE grunkle stan?

☆opinion on stickers?

"Alright, you two leys get you up to your room for the summer." Stan said, pulling Mable away from you and grabbing her bags.

You grabbed the second set of bags and followed stan and the two kids.

"Dipper, right?" You asked the boy who fell in line with you "oh yea! Yep that's me!" He laughed nervously.

"Very cool name,I like your hat by the way." You prayed you didn't seem like you were trying too hard to get them to like you.

"So you and grunkle stan run this place?" Dipper asked, looking at all your hot glue collages as Stanford decided to give them the grand tour before their room.

"Yup." You nodded.

"What's the point? Isn't this all fake? I mean... I can see the string on the invisible man's glasses." He said pointing out the attraction as you passed.

"Oh c'mon Dipper, how could you not love the jackalope!? Is he a deer? Is he a rabbit? I can't tell!" Mable said, carrying the creature in her arms like a teddy bear.

"I just don't get it? Why lie to people when I'm sure there has to be something real out there!"

You smiled at him. He sounded like you when you were a kid...he sounded more like Stanford before the shack. "You like the supernatural?" You asked.

"Oh yea, dippers a huge nerd he loves all that junk!" Mable said punching her brother in the shoulder.

"Oh, here we go! Don't get this one started on mystery and supernatural boogie men!" Stanford said, stopping to join your conversation.

"Y/n used to be big on hunting and looking for stuff like this." He said, wrapping his arm around you. "Used too...I haven't in over 30 years...it got too complicated." You opted to give them a simple answer as to why you stopped.

"Really!? That's so cool!" Dipper exclaimed. "If you ever need someone to go on adventures with, you can trust me."

Over the upcoming weeks, it was slightly rocky with the kids getting settled in, but eventually, they started warming up to the shack as well as yourself and Stanford.

You were quite pleased to have their company, actually. You felt something change in your everyday lives when they entered the shack.

"Depending on who you ask." You said continuing your story as you placed plates in front of the kids. "Your grunkle and I are married." The kids gasped. "Only through some silly machine in Vegas it wasn't real there was this one time -"

Stan chuckled to himself as you told the story of your fake marriage in Vegas as he watched the three of you laugh in the kitchen.

He smiled. Watching you frantically move your arms to further dramatice the story, a certain shine he'd noticed had been missing from your eyes for a few years now. You had it when he'd met you.

The same day, he knew things would be different for him. They HAD been different. You accepted him for everything he was. You went along with his crazy shenanigans. You gave up a whole life for him.

He remembered the birthday parties you had thrown for him. Even if you were the only person to be there for him.

He knew after a few years of you doing so that you would always be the only one there. He had the strangest feeling the night of his 35 birthday when he realized this.

He lied awake in bed, staring at the ceiling when it occurred to him what the feeling was.

"Oh no."

He quietly snuck away from you and the kids, still hearing your laughter erupt through the house behind him. He made his way into the darkened gift shop and punched a code into the vending machine, and went down to the basement he swore to you he'd destroyed.

30 years, and all he had offered you was lies. After all you'd done for him after all the care you'd shown him after all you had sacrificed. He just wanted you to have a normal life. A good life.

Not something he had fabricated.

He spent most of his time thinking about the large machine that still sat in his basement, the other half worrying about you. If he was giving a good life if he was soing as good a job being in your life as you had done for him.

He worried about what might happen when, IF he was able to pull of bringing his brother back.

How would you react to being lied to for 30 years. Maybe you did really feel the same way he had felt about you for years and you would forgive him.

In order for that to work, he'd have to actually admit his feelings to you.

He wanted to, he also wanted do a lot more for you in the 30 years you'd been together but always failed before he could make a move or do anything really. He pushed aside a notepad filled with ideas of kind gestures he could do for you (most of which were crossed out) and replaced the space with the journal Ford had left him.

He would get it right.

All of it.

Eventually.

Then again.

He could always ask Mable.

While you laughed with two kids at a dinner table and Stanley beat himself up about lying and tried to rebuild his life.

The real Stanford pines sat out there amongst the stars with nothing but a creased photo of the two of you and wondered why it was taking you so long to find him.

~~~~~~~☆~~~~~

Taglist:

@muffin1304

@katharine3000

@leo4242564

@space1crow

@steveharringtongf

@mckennaishere07

@nothingbutcloud

@anicega

@i-am-tiredd

@babydoll-143

@fanficcrow

@slay-thou-pookie

@bandaids-n-porceline

[azrielslittleslut]

"The Lost Queen"- Chapter 9

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: A magical incident causes Azriel to unexpectedly tumble through a portal into modern-day Earth. Confused and injured, he is discovered by a compassionate human woman with a hidden past. She takes care of him and helps him discover the complexities of the modern world, completely unaware of who she truly is. Meanwhile, Azriel struggles with his conflicting desires: his duty to the Night Court and his growing love for the woman who saved him.

Their journey unfolds amidst ancient prophecies and the looming threat in Prythian. As they uncover the truth about forces conspiring against them, they must confront their deepest fears and make choices that will change their lives and the world forever.

Warnings: angst, language, grief, kind of suicidal thoughts

Word Count: 5.6k

series masterlist

a/n: this is a filler chapter, one that is needed to further the story. More action coming next chapter!

Enjoy!

Tumbling through the portal this time was similar to the last. Azriel felt the same sharp pain throughout his body, but it was more bearable, as if his body was suddenly capable of handling the travel through worlds. There was the same ringing in his ears, mixing with the strange language of the world he had come from. But this time, he heard his own language in the mix- the language of Prythian.

Az hit the ground with a thud, landing on his knees, his breath leaving his lungs as the portal deposited him onto the cold ground. He flared his wings slightly to keep them from dragging on the sharp earth as he tried to keep himself upright. It took all of his remaining strength to keep you in his arms as the dizziness from the portal made the world spin.

“Fyrvor,” he whispered gently, moving his hand up to cradle your head. “Wake up. Please wake up for me,” he urged, but you didn’t move an inch. Your eyes were closed, as if you were sleeping. You looked so beautiful and peaceful, and for a moment, Azriel wished he could stay in this moment forever. But deep down, he knew there was a storm brewing, a dark cloud moving to cover his world and all those he loved.

He had never imagined that you would be playing a part in that. He had tried to shield you from the darkness of Prythian, even going as far to lose your trust in the process of that. But now, you were here, and he had no choice but to face it, to bring you into his shadowed life.

Azriel’s mind raced with so many questions. Why had Mathias been sent to bring you back to Prythian? How had Serena and Mama Laveau known so much about his world? Why had he landed at your doorstep?

And where the hell did that power you displayed come from?

Azriel had never felt anything like it. It had been raw and strong, pulsing with an ancient and formidable energy that seemed as old as time itself.

Shadowsinger, his shadows whispered to him, their dark tendrils weaving themselves through your hair. Our mate is fine. But you need to get her home. She needs rest.  

He looked up, suddenly aware of the fact that he had no idea where the portal had deposited him to. The sky was illuminated with soft sunlight, and he couldn’t tell if it was early in the morning or late in the evening. There was a chill in the air, just the same as when he had left.

There was a tree line shrouded in mist to Azriel’s right and a worn beaten path to his left. His senses tingled with the all-too-familiar sensation of ancient magic, a feeling he had grown too accustomed to over the last few days. He studied the path, his eyes catching on the fresh footsteps pressed into the mud.

They were his footsteps. He had walked that path a few days ago. The portal had taken him to the edge of the Whispering Woods.

“Damn it,” he groaned, forcing his sore body to stand. The surge of power from the earlier magic had left him, and he now felt exhausted. He cradled your body close to his as he thought of what to do.

Az was too exhausted to fly, and his shadows seemed too weak to winnow. There was only one other option, and he prayed to the Mother that the unstable magic hadn’t taken its toll in his absence.

He slammed his mental shields up, opening that dark doorway into his mind. Rhysand! he called out, hoping his brother would be able to hear him.

For a few moments, Azriel was met with silence. He shook his head, gathering his thoughts to call out again, but he was interrupted as he felt a dark talon scrape along his mind. Azriel? Are you alright? We haven’t heard from you in days, brother!

Az let out a breath as a wave of relief washed over his body. Edge of the Whispering Woods, he responded, his head suddenly hurting from the strain. That was odd, considering he had never struggled with talking to Rhys like this before. Can’t fly or move through shadows. Need help.

Azriel could only hope that Rhys would understand the dire circumstances as he quickly slammed his shields back up, too afraid of what could be lurking in these woods. He didn’t want to take any chances of anything happening, especially with your unconscious body in his arms.

Only a few moments passed before Rhys appeared in front of him, his wings tucked in tight. His brother looked the same as he had when Az had left, only a bit paler. He wore his Illyrian leathers, the scales gleaming in the dim light.

“Azriel,” Rhys breathed, his voice breathless. Az felt a wave of homesickness hit him at the sound of his language being spoken, but he could still feel that built-in translator in his head, like a second inner voice. “We thought you were-“ he broke off, his violet eyes landing on you cradled in Azriel’s arms. “Who is that? Where is the Moonstone Amulet? Did you get it?”

His tone was full of hope, and it was with a small pang in his heart that Azriel realized that he had indeed failed in his mission. He hadn’t gotten the Amulet or even gotten any information on it. Hell, he had even lost Truth Teller.

But as Azriel felt your warm body pressed against his, he wondered if he had truly failed. Perhaps, in his strange journey to another world, he had brought back something far more valuable: you. His mate.

He remembered the words Mama Laveau had said. She is the key to getting you back to Prythian. He thought back to the flames that had engulfed your body, the power flowing from you, the windows bursting, the portal opening…

Maybe you were the key, the missing puzzle piece to this madness.

Azriel looked at his brother, his heart racing in his chest as he said, “We have a lot to discuss.”

---

You were walking through a vast, mist-shrouded forest. The trees seemed to whisper in an ancient language, and the ground was carpeted with iridescent moss that glowed despite the darkness.

But you were not alone. There was a woman in front of you, dressed in a plain black dress, her hair long and cascading down her back.

“Hello?” you asked softly, your feet quiet as you padded up to her. “Where am I?”

The woman turned, and you sucked in a breath as looked at her. Her face could be a twin to yours. She had your eyes, nose, and lips. The woman smiled, revealing dimples just like yours. “Remember who you are,” she whispered, her voice quiet. “You are destined for great things, to reign and heal and unite. The crown awaits, not of gold but of flame, one that you must forge from the truth of your soul.”

A flicker of something dark behind the woman caught your eye, prompting you to tilt your head to the side for a clearer view. Through the drifting mist, you saw a black, obsidian knife, its hilt so profoundly dark it seemed to absorb all surrounding light, creating a void where no light dared to linger. It was encircled by swirling shadows and dancing flames, a vivid image of dark and light intermingling yet not consuming it.  

The woman continued on, her voice gentle but clear as she chanted, “Rise up, my darling. Rise up, rise up, rise up-”  

The sound of strange voices brought you back to yourself, and you stayed there, lingering between waking and sleeping.

“That’s impossible, Madja,” an unfamiliar male voice said. It was soft and smooth, like darkness given form. The man spoke in a foreign language, one you didn’t know, but you somehow understood him. “Are you sure?”

You heard a woman sigh. “I am sure, Rhysand,” she said. “There is something different about her. She has a… power I have never felt or sensed before.”

“Will she be alright, though?” another male asked, and you recognized this one. Azriel’s voice was full of something like desperation, and you longed to call out to him, to tell him you were alright. But you couldn’t move, your body still locked into this strange dream-like state.

The woman, Madja you assumed, said, “She is healing.” She paused for a moment, and you wished you could open your eyes to look at her face. “She is healing faster than she should, which confirms my suspicions.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Rhysand asked, his voice quiet.

“Yes,” Madja said. “She isn’t human.”

You were standing before a great throne, one that you had seen before in Serena’s painting. But this was not a painting- it was real, so real you could clearly see each of the ancient runes carved into the black, weathered wood. Even though you had never seen the runes before, something deep inside of your mind translated them.

You took a step up onto the dais, your fingers tracing the markings as you read them silently to yourself.

Veeran, a rune for protection. Kaelith, one representing wisdom, Draen, symbolizing unity and harmony. Zorath, the rune for strength. Eireen, one for peace.

“That throne belongs to you, Y/N,” a low voice said from behind you. “It’s yours to claim.”

You spun on your heels, your breath catching as you saw a feminine form dressed in a black cloak. Her face was shadowed beneath the hood of the cloak, but you could see black tendrils of hair that looked like shadows. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but you swore you saw the shadow of wings moving behind the woman.

“How do I know this language?” you asked, your voice full of desperation. “Where am I? What is happening to me?”

The woman chuckled, and you felt a strange power radiating from her, something dark and ancient. “In the age of turmoil, when shadows darken the realm, a lost queen shall rise. Born of hidden lineage, she will wield the ancient powers of her forebears. With wings of light and a heart of courage, she shall unite the fractured lands and restore balance to the throne.”

You shook your head as the world began to fall away, splitting into nothingness. “What does that mean?” you demanded as the woman started to disappear into the shadows. “Please help me!”

“Fyrvor,” another voice called out, an echo into the ever-growing abyss that surrounded your body, your soul. “Wake up. Wake up.”

Your eyes snapped open, your heart racing inside of your chest. You stared at the ceiling above you as you blinked the heavy sleep from your eyes. You were lying in a soft bed, and the room smelled faintly of something like cedar, masculine but subtle. You were in a warm bedroom, in a soft bed with what felt like silk sheets. The room was dark, save for the glow of strange looking lamps along the walls.

“Y/N,” that same voice from your dream murmured, and your body relaxed as you realized it was Azriel who was speaking. “Oh, thank the Mother you’re awake.” He was speaking English you realized, and you shuddered as a wave of words from a different language swarmed your mind, all of them mixing together.

“Where am I?” you asked, your voice hoarse. Your body was sore, your muscles aching like you had just completed an intense workout. You turned your head to the side to look at him. “What happened?”

Azriel sat next to you in a chair, dressed in those same black leather clothes he had been wearing when you first met him. His black hair was tangled and messy, as if he had been running his hands through it. His beautiful face was pale, and you could see dark shadows under his eyes.

When had he last slept?

He bit his bottom lip, his hazel eyes dark as he said, “You’re in Prythian. I don’t know how all of this happened. I think you opened-“ he broke off, shaking his head. He leaned forward and took your hands in his. “How much do you remember?”

You closed your eyes as you thought back to what had happened. It was all blurry, but you remembered the ball, Mama Laveau, Azriel’s lips hot against yours… You opened your eyes again, ignoring that pang of heat that spread low in your belly. “Not much,” was all you said.

“I need you to try to remember for me, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice gentle. “Please.”

You nodded as you went back to that dark place in your mind, your thoughts swirling together. You remembered going to your parent’s house. Azriel on the floor, your mother lying in a pool of her own blood. Your father… dead.

You let out a choked sob. “My parents. They… they’re-“ you couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. A wave of sorrow and grief washed over you, and you swore you could hear your heart break.

You had survived the strange events that led to you and Azriel coming back to Prythian, but would you survive a broken heart?

Azriel nodded once, his eyes full of sorrow. “They’re dead, love,” he said, his voice soft.  “I am so sorry, fyrvor. I wasn’t able to fight Mathias off in time.”

Mathias. The sound of his name falling from Azriel’s lips lit a deep rage within you, and you felt a fire start to burn, deep within your bones. Suddenly, you were overwhelmed with the memory of flames engulfing you, your body burning, but there had been no pain.

There had only been hatred and rage. You recalled feeling a raw energy and power surging through you, a torrent of force that felt both alien and familiar at the same time. The power had been fierce, almost primal, and it had coursed through your veins like the fire that had engulfed you, demanding to be wielded.

“I was on fire,” you murmured, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. “I remember Mathias, and I remember wanting to kill him for shoving a dagger through your heart. I thought you were dead.” It took much effort to fight off the horrible memory of that silver blade going into Azriel’s chest, his blood spilling onto the floor.

Azriel smiled then, his face lighting up. “I’m very much alive,” he said as he shifted in his seat, his wings fluttering behind him.

Wait… he had fucking wings?

You blinked your eyes rapidly, trying to clear the sleep from them. His wings were massive, peaking out over his shoulders, the sharp talons on them gleaming in the dim light of the room. On each hand, he had two cobalt blue stones, and you vaguely remembered having a conversation with him about them. Siphons, he had called them.

You squinted your eyes at him, and you gasped as you felt a tickle on your arm.

You looked down and saw what appeared to be a shadow dancing along your skin, wrapping itself lovingly around your wrist.

He had told you about the wings and the shadows at Café du Monde. Even though that conversation had taken place only a few days ago, it might as well have been an eternity ago.

“You have wings,” you said. “And there is a shadow wrapped around my arm.”

“I am an Illyrian,” Azriel whispered as if saying the words pained him. “They are a race of warrior faeries, a violet people who only care about war and bloodshed. That’s where I get the wings from.” He glanced down, his eyes on his shadows as they moved around his body like wisps of smoke. “The shadows… I am a shadowsinger. Nobody knows where the shadows come from. I can hear them and speak to them.”

Your entire life you had believed that magic wasn’t real, always judging the voodoo crazies who lived in New Orleans. You had fought that truth, even after Azriel had landed in your front yard, believing that denial about the reality of it all was the best option.

Yet, here you were, staring at a male with wings and shadows. You could sense the power rolling off him, an apex predator lurking beneath his skin.

“So, your magic is back?” you said, fighting to keep your voice steady.

Azriel’s hand tightened in yours. “Yes. We are in my world, Y/N. A portal opened, and I brought you back here, to the Night Court. My home.”  He paused for a moment, his eyes wary. “Our healer, Madja, looked you over when I brought you here. You were cold and unconscious, and I was so worried that you were dying. You were lifeless in my arms, and I couldn’t bear the thought of-“

“Stop rambling, Azriel. Tell me what you’re trying to say,” you said, your voice bitter. You remembered hearing Madja talking with Azriel, and a man named Rhysand. You remembered what she said, but you wanted to hear it from Azriel’s lips.

He sucked in breath as he looked at you, his gaze intense. “She said you aren’t human.” The words coming from him didn’t make it any less shocking. “She could sense that there had been a… glamour placed on you, as if someone wanted to hide your abilities. You have… magic. A power that even Madja doesn’t understand. You had wings, Y/N, and I watched as your entire body went up in flames, but you didn’t burn.”

You laid there, completely still, as his words sank in. Glamour. Power. Magic. Wings.

Were you dead? Did Mathias kill you? Was this what the afterlife looked like?

Your strange dreams returned to you, swarming your mind. You could still see the throne and the strange woman in the forest, her voice foreign, her face familiar. You could still feel your mother’s blood on your fingers, her heartbeat slowing beneath your hand. You could hear the echo of Azriel’s roar of pain in your ears, and you shut your eyes against the memories, praying they would go away.  

“What am I?” you asked him, your voice suddenly small. You opened your eyes to look at him, and you watched in fascination as his wings rustled behind him.

“We don’t know,” a voice said, still carrying that soft sound of darkness. It was speaking in that strange language, the language of Prythian. You snapped your eyes to the door, and you couldn’t help the soft gasp that left your lips as Rhysand entered the room. “We were hoping you could tell us the truth about who you are.”

He was… handsome. Beautiful, even. He was tall, and he had the same brown skin as Azriel. His black hair was cut short, revealing the sharp and elegant planes of his face. He had pointed ears, like the characters in the fairytales you had read as a child. He was staring at you with eyes the color of a twilight sky, a deep violet that you could feel slither across your skin.  

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but think that though this man was quite handsome, he was nothing compared to Azriel.

Azriel’s eyes darkened as he sat up in the chair, his head moving to look at the man. “Rhysand,” he growled, and you sucked in a breath at the sound. “I told you to let it be. She doesn’t know the truth.”

Rhysand’s brows shot up in surprise. “You believe that brother?” he asked, leaning against the wall. He too had wings, but they looked a little smaller than Azriel’s. “You don’t think it’s strange that you were whisked away to another world, only to come back with this female, considering everything that is going on here?”

Azriel’s eyes were filled with predatory focus as he looked at Rhysand, his brother. You remembered Azriel telling you about his brothers and that they weren’t related by blood. He said he had two of them, and you wondered where the other one was.

Azriel stood from the chair and turned to Rhysand, the cobalt siphons on his hands flickering. His wings twitched, spreading out just enough to cover you from Rhysand’s eyes. “She is not a threat to us,” he hissed. “You heard Madja. Her magic is good. I believe with every part of my being that she is the one who healed me, who brought my magic back.”

You stared at the back of Azriel’s wings. Had you been the one to heal him? That dagger went straight through his heart, a wound that should have killed him instantly. Yet, here was, healed and powerful.

You cleared your throat, fighting your voice to steadiness, even though all you wanted to do was scream. “I mean nobody here any harm,” you responded, using the built-in translator to say the words in Prythian’s language. “I don’t know anything about myself. I didn’t even know my parents weren’t my real parents…”

Azriel tucked his wings in as he turned around slowly to look at you. His eyes were full of a mixture of confusion and awe. “You understood him?”

“Yes,” you said with a nod. “I guess whatever allowed you to understand my language has allowed me to understand yours.” You spoke it all in his language, your words perfect. Fluent, even. It was like you had been speaking this language your entire life.

Rhysand pushed off the wall, daring a step toward you. You fought the urge to cower under the blanket at the intensity of his gaze. “Still,” he said, cocking his head to the side, “I think you know more than you realize. There is a way I can find out the truth.”

Azriel growled again, a sound so low and dark that goosebumps danced across your skin. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he snarled. “If you go into her mind without her permission…. I don’t give a fuck that you are my High Lord. If you hurt her, I will kill you.”

Rhysand blinked, clearly taken aback by Azriel’s sudden outburst. His nostrils flared, his eyes squinting slightly as he looked rapidly between you and Azriel. He held his hands up in surrender for a few moments before placing them into the pocket of his black pants. “Ah. I see,” he said as a ghost of a smile graced the corner of his lips. “I will not hurt her, Az. I just want to know the truth. We all do. Things got worse while you were gone, and you know better than anyone how far I will go to protect my family, my people.”

You watched Azriel’s shoulders loosen, and you felt your body ease as well. For brothers, they sure had a strange way of showing love to each other.

“Apologize.” Azriel’s voice held no room for argument, and it dripped with pure command. “Apologize to her for acting like such a ruthless bastard.”

Rhysand smiled then, his violet eyes lighting up. He tore them away from Azriel to look at you. “My apologies for acting that way, Y/N,” he said, his voice smooth. “My name is Rhysand, but please call me Rhys. I meant no offense by anything I said.” He paused for a moment, his eyes darkening. “I don’t know how much Az told you about what is going on in Prythian, but as the High Lord of the Night Court, I am bound to protect my court from any threat. It’s not every day that someone tumbles through a portal from another world.”

“If he told me anything,” you said, your head suddenly feeling heavy, “I don’t remember it. Everything is blurry.” What you said was true. You remembered hearing Serena say something about a darkness around Prythian, but you couldn’t remember anything else.

“Have you told her anything about this world, Azriel?” Rhys asked.

Azriel crossed his arms. “No. I held the truth back about many things,” he murmured, his eyes soft as he looked at you. “And I regret that. I will tell her everything, Rhys.”

Rhys pursed his lips slightly. “Everything?” Unspoken words seemed to flow between them, and you could tell they were hiding something from you. Under normal circumstances, you would have demanded to know the truth, but now, the exhaustion and grief washed over you in waves, and you just wanted to sleep.

“Everything,” Azriel said finally, his face like stone.

A soft knock on the door sounded throughout the room, followed by a lovely, soft feminine voice. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” the woman said.

Rhys turned around, giving you a view of the woman who had walked up to the doorway. She was beautiful, with golden-brown hair, pointed ears, and rich brown eyes. She was wearing a long, flowing dress the color of roses, and it complimented the sun-kissed hew of her skin well.

“Elain,” Rhys said as a greeting, “you’re not interrupting at all. I was just leaving, and Az, well I don’t know what he’s doing.”

Elain giggled, a lovely sound that reminded you of bells. “He hasn’t left her side for the two days she’s been out, but I am prepared to drag him kicking and screaming from this room so I can help her bathe.”

Two days? You had been unconscious for two days? And Azriel had stayed by your side the whole time?

Azriel scowled, his wings twitching. “I’m not leaving.” He glanced toward you again, his features softening slightly. “Unless you want me to.”

You paused for a moment, contemplating what you wanted. You had forgiven Azriel for lying to you, in that moment when you were faced with life and death, and now you found yourself wanting to crawl into his arms, shielding yourself from the darkness of the world. You wanted to cry and scream, to lash out at everything and everyone for your parents being ripped away from you. You mourned the loss of the normal life you had. It was long gone, and you knew, even through your confusion, everything was about to change.

But you were tired, exhausted even, and you couldn’t bring yourself to shed a single tear. You were numb all over, as if a dark void had opened inside of you, spreading out into your bones.

“I want to be clean,” you whispered to him, keeping your eyes soft. “And I want to sleep for now. But Azriel, you still owe me an explanation. For everything.”

Azriel’s shadows swarmed around his shoulders and wings, as if they too didn’t want to leave you. “Fine,” he grumbled, his face akin to a child who had gotten told no after asking for dessert. “Get some rest, love. I’ll come back in the morning.”

You watched in silence as Azriel followed Rhys out of the bedroom. It wasn’t until the door latched closed that you released a ragged breath. “Are they always like this?” you asked Elain, who had made her way to the side of your bed. This close, you could smell her scent. It was floral, as if she had rolled around in a garden. “Snarling and growling at each other?”

Elain smiled, a smile that reminded you of the sun breaking over the horizon. “Unfortunately, yes. It’s always like this. The way of the faeries has always been strange to me, even though I am one of them now.”

Faeries. She said it like this was normal, but that wasn’t what caught your attention. “You mean you weren’t always one?”

“No,” she whispered as she moved to help you sit up. “I was a human once. I was forced into this life by dark forces, but I am slowly growing accustomed to it.” The haunted look in her eyes told you enough- she wasn’t growing accustomed to this life, but she was telling herself she was.

You didn’t know how to respond, so you let her help you up. The dark blanket fell down, revealing your naked breasts. You hadn’t realized you were naked earlier, too caught up in Azriel and Rhys, in the strange world you had been thrown into.

Elain, who seemed to sense your unease, laid a gentle hand on your shoulder. Her skin was soft and warm, but you could feel faint callouses along her palm. “Don’t worry,” she assured you. “I was the one who undressed you when Azriel brought you here, and I made sure you stayed covered. Nobody saw anything.”

You could only nod as Elain helped you walk to the bathroom, your body still sore. The bathroom was massive, filled with flickering candles that smelled faintly of roses and lavender. The windows along the far wall revealed a river, and beyond it, you could see a city. A city you had seen before in a painting.

“The City of Starlight,” you said to yourself, your eyes scanning the sandstone buildings.

Elain looked at you, her eyes amused. “Azriel told you about Velaris?”

“No. I saw it in a painting. There is a woman back in my world. She’s a painter, but she claims to have seen visions of Prythian. She painted this city, and I saw it when Azriel and I went to her for help.”

Elain nodded. “I know what that’s like. Seeing things in dreams and visions.”

Your brows rose as you looked over to her. She had walked over to the massive bathtub that was in the center of the room. It looked more like a small swimming pool, but you were too tired to ask why it was so big. “What do you mean?” you asked as you walked over to the tub. The water was already running, and steam had started to fill the room. “You see things like that, too?”

Elain smiled softly, her eyes on the city outside of the window. “Yes, I see things. There is a lot for you to learn about Prythian, and I will help you understand it all. I know Azriel will, too.” She paused, turning her head to the side to look at you. “You need to know that I saw you. It was a blurry vision, but I saw you, standing next to a throne. Your eyes were golden, as if they were made of flames.”

You stepped into the water, letting out a hiss as it came into contact with your skin. “Did Azriel tell you what happened? At my parent’s house?”

Elain reached out a hand to help you as you settled yourself into the water. It smelled faintly of something like night-chilled mist and cedar, and you felt your body ease at the scent. “He told us a little, though he was more worried about you than anything else.” She reached for a bottle of liquid and poured some into her hands. “He cares about you. He gets this look on his face when he’s talking about you, as if you are the answer to a question he’s been asking his whole life.”

You blamed the hot water for the warmth that spread through your body at her words. You sat in silence as Elain’s gentle hands washed your hair. Finally, you said, “I care about him, too. But I don’t know what I am, or why I am here. How can I bring him into this… mess? He deserves better than that.”

Your voice was so quiet that you wondered if Elain heard you. She said nothing as she gently dipped your head under the water to rinse the shampoo out. When you emerged, you heard her say, “I didn’t tell you the rest of my vision.” She reached for a washcloth on the side of the tub. She poured a generous amount of soap into it, and you looked up at her, waiting for her to say something.

At last, she said, “In my vision, you were sitting on the throne, and Azriel was standing next to you. Whatever has happened or will happen doesn’t matter. What matters is that the two of you are linked together, and I get the sense that it is by forces that are greater than anything we’ve ever faced.”

Despite the heat of the water, you felt a chill run down your spine. “What do I do, Elain?” you asked, your voice small. You were so tired, and you didn’t have any fight left in you. That ember that seemed to live deep inside of your chest was burning low, as if its flame had been weakened. You didn’t want to face whatever challenges lay ahead. You longed to return back to your house, to your family. You wanted to curl up on the couch with wine and pizza and watch TV with your mom.

But that would never happen again, and the realization shocked your numb body enough for tears to well in your eyes. You quickly wiped them away, not wanting Elain to see your weakness.  

Elain sat up straight, her eyes locked onto your face. Her expression was grim, and you wondered what all she had seen in this vision, but you were too afraid to ask. “You need to rise up, Y/N,” she said, her voice stern, all trace of the earlier gentleness gone. “It’s time to rise up.”  

You sighed and leaned back against the tub, your eyes staring blankly at the far wall of the bathroom. There was a mirror on it, and in its reflection, you could see yourself. Your face was pale and drawn, dark circles standing out under your eyes. You looked like the ghost of the woman you had been, someone who had once been so full of life and energy.

Now, you wonder if it would have been better if you had died with your parents.

tag list: @starofanotherworld @lilah-asteria @melmo567

@shadowsingercassia @xxemmarldxx @a-frog-with-a-laptop

@rcarbo1 @saltedcoffeescotch @that-one-bibliophole

@happyt0exist @thefandomswhre @serxndipity-ipity-blog

@doodlebugg16-blog @i-am-infinite

@wolvesnravens @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @bluejayswhistle

@vera0214 @jananigk @fourthwing4ever

@historygeekqueen @carnelshephard @isnotwhatyourethinking

@lovetia @bsenpai @anarchiii

@hedgehogperalta @st4r-girl-official @roseodelle

@kitcat912 @historygeekqueen @blueeclipsepaperstudent

@sublimewombatcopgarden @hellohauntedturnstudent

@negomi123 @quiet-loser @andreperez11

@notyourfvckingproblem @texassred

[thatsdemko]

who’s the worst of them all? someone tell Santa Claus! - f1 grid

part two | masterlist

warning: not intended for minors + some jokes + fluff/filler part

a/n: hi hi it’s me… I’ve had this written since early November and I’m excited to share!! enjoy!!

DEAR Y/N,

have you been a good girl this year? I heard you’re looking for your stocking stuffed, I think I have just the gift. meet me at midnight for your gift!

Xx

secret Santa

you can’t read this out loud, and most definitely not to the public who will view this video later. whoever was your secret Santa, must’ve heard the rumors of your dry spell. and how pitiful was if that it wasn’t even a rumor, it was the truth.

“oh it’s just a sweet handwritten note.” you chuckle quickly flashing the note to the camera before shoving it back inside the off white envelope.

the presenter presses for more information. she asks what the letter contains and who you think it’s from, and in all honesty, it could be coming from anyone.

all the boys handwriting was not legible. it was like getting a doctors script, it could mean anything, but it was clear this individual took their time to make it perfect.

“I’ll have to find out at the Christmas dinner tonight.” you flash a wink in hopes to cover the beet red look against your cheeks.

“well have fun!”

fun… this was about to be nowhere near fun when it came down to narrowing twenty something guys to be your secret Santa.

—

starting off with Pierre. in his bachelor days, he would’ve sent you something like this, but it was always harmless jokes and he would never take it this far. with kika around his arm, you could cross him off the list of embarrassing yourself in front of.

then there’s his best friend, Charles. he always had a wobbly relationship with women, and seeing he’s alone tonight you cross the room heading his way, “you don’t happen to be my secret Santa?” your hands delicately press against his shoulders, he turns around rather quickly at your touch instantly shaking his head, “no, no, I got Pierre this year. you still don’t know yours?”

shaking your head in response, you eye the room from where you stand. the bar had begun to fill with drivers and team members rather quickly. the air was colder now, but the heat from inside was welcoming to those dressed in bare minimum, like yourself. Charles hand against your lower back was like a radiator, the heat spread through your system faster than the log fire going on, “I’m sure you’ll find him.” Charles promises, “but for now, can I get you a drink?”

“please.”

—

the nights gone smoothly and so far you can cross off valterri, Logan, Kevin, and Nico. you’re questioning yuki, Daniel, Lewis, and lando due to their abilities to dodge the questions.

George outright told you it wasn’t him after hearing you’d spun yourself in circles to find anyone new to question. Logan had confessed to having brought up the idea, but refused to give any further information.

and then there was Carlos.

the man who’d been under your nose this whole evening. with his bow tie crooked, and the clock ticking closer to midnight, you meander your way over to where he stands.

“I’m not who you’re looking for, hermosa.”

“and who am I looking for exactly?”

his eyes flicker from the clock, the television highlighting the Real Madrid game, and back over to you, “I’d never send such a cryptic message.” he maneuvers his body to face yours, “I know how to ask for what I want.”

“and what is it that you want?” you press your body closer in to the smooth wood bar top. your mind is spinning, your heart is hammering it’s way out of your chest, and Carlos is inching closer.

“for you to leave me alone.”

“you’re no fun, sainz.” you pout your bottom lip out and spin on your heels to find your body pressed into lando’s.

“you find him yet?” landos cheeky grin makes him look like a Cheshire Cat. ever since he read the note he’d been eager to place the pin on the man and root for your dry spell to end.

for now, it’s ten minutes to midnight and the place was emptying. the alcohol buzzed around the room and the chatter begun to die, it’s ironic how it was a little bit like your heart: buzzing to find the guy, but ready to die at the sight of him.

“I’m sure it’s all just a prank and I’ll have Logan to blame for it.”

“miss,” the bartenders tap against your shoulder makes you spin away from landos chest, “this is for you.”

DEAR Y/N,

giving up? never thought of you as a quitter.

xx

yours

grinding your teeth together you press the napkin into your palm until the ink smudges. you’re no quitter, but if the man with no balls doesn’t show up soon, you’ll leave here ready to slam your car into someone else’s.

“I’m going to head out, you’ll be okay to walk out alone?”

lando’s worries snap your thoughts from the napkin that’s disintegrating into your hands. his touch is soft against your bare shoulder, making your body two degrees warmer than the room, “I’ll be fine, you go home and have a good Christmas.”

“you too, and if you don’t find him—“

“yes, I know, you’ll key his car.”

rolling your eyes, you playfully shove the Brit off into the cold, leaving you and the cleaning crew in silence.

you never noticed how trashed the bar was. in its glory days, you can tell the red thick carpet and white trim around the bar gave the place a holiday feel. and by the old pictures scattered around the walls, the formula one boys had a riot in this place. people from Michael Schumacher all the way down to young Fernando Alonso, the place seemed to always be the home of f1.

looking down at the disintegrated napkin in your hand, and quickly looking up at the clock, midnight had just struck. if he wasn’t here by 12:01 you were a goner. you hated people who wasted your time, you’d much rather be at home or maybe in lando’s warm McLaren buzzing from the alcohol and the warm leather seats.

turning on your heel, he’d just arrived. he’s shaking the snow off his bulky black jacket, shimmering out of the sleeves. a man comes and retrieves it from his grasp, and in typical fashion, he thanks him.

“you thought I wouldn’t come?”

“I hate when people are late.”

“good thing I’m not late then,” he says with a soft smile approaching where you stand at the bar, with your arms crossed tightly over your chest. he leans forward, inching his mouth over your ear, “I’m right on time.”

a/n: take your guesses on who you think it is!! the big reveal happens Christmas Day!

tags: @oconso @xcicix @imsorare @weasleyswizardwheezes-blog @monzabee @lpab @frreyaa @motorsp0rt @lovelytsunoda @smoothopz z @jaehyunluvcult @iloveyou3000morgan @lunnnix @leclerc13 @goldenalbon

[tasteofthedivine93]

The Beauty of the Beast - Messmer x F!Reader - Elden Ring Fic - Part 9

TasteOfTheDivine // Masterlist

Ao3: archiveofourown.org/works/57094387/chapters/146244445 Fic Rating: Explicit🌶️🌶️ (Chapter: Explicit🌶️🌶️) Category: F/M Fandom: Elden Ring // Elden Ring: Shadow of the Erd Tree Relationships: Messmer x F!Reader // Messmer the Impaler x F!Reader Warnings/Tags: F!Masturbation // M!Masturbation // Half human/half-monster appendages // Accidental VoyeurismWords: 2539

MASTERLIST // <- Part 8 // Part 10 ->

Author note: PLEASE NOTE THE RATING CHANGE! Sorry to those who wanted a cute fairy-tale fic. I can't help myself.  Thought about keeping it M but that's boring.

Just a naughty filler chapter.

Also, you know that noise he makes after pulling out his eye...that "phew"/"phft" that one? Yeah you know that one, think of that later. 👀

Carefully, you shut the door with a click. You lean back against the wood, letting your head smack against it. You shake your head, trying to forget your lust and disappointment and recall the sentimental moments, the pure romantic and tender moments as you danced. 

You raise your hand to the exposed area of your chest, feeling how warm you are. You give in and smile to yourself, letting the butterflies bloom in your stomach again.

You slowly strip off your luxurious dress, the fabric slowly falling off your shoulders and down your hips. You stand naked by the door, you pray that Messmer changes his mind and comes to get you. You know you’d open the door fully naked if he did. 

Instead silence, except your heavy breathing, is heard. Sighing, you step away from the door and crawl into the bed. Pouting you bury your head in the pillow, but the rough fabric of the sheet grazes your nipples and you let out a sigh. You had to finish what you started earlier. 

For a moment though you hesitate, your mind was swimming in lustful thoughts, yes, but should that be the end to a romantic evening? You’re inexperienced in the ways of courting. You sit up for a moment and think, feeling nervous. You bury your head into your hands and hate yourself for overthinking it. 

You knew you needed this release, the amount of physical contact you’ve had with Messmer the last few days was more than you've had in your lifetime it feels like. You flop back down on the bed and close your eyes, chest rising and falling. You tell yourself not to overthink it. You wrap your arms around yourself in a soothing self embrace. You try to empty your mind. 

You let your hands slip down over your chest, you cup the swell of your breast and let your thumbs swipe over your nipples, the sensation shooting pleasure down to your core. You gently pinch your nipples and let out a moan. They stand to attention immediately.  

Turning on your side, you cover yourself with the sheet for some privacy (you never know when an apparition is lurking or watching). You reach down between your legs, fingers tracing over your stomach and patch of thick hair. You ignore your clit and move around it, you dip your finger between your mound and feel the wetness between your folds, it coats your fingers in thick slick and you let out a whimper at the sensation. 

You didn’t realise you were that wet, enough for it to be dripping down your thigh. You gently part your folds like petals, feeling how sensitive and puffy they were. You let your finger run through the seams, spreading the wetness. You toy with your clit, the dampness making your fingers glide smoothly over the hood, you let out a hiss at the pleasure. 

You grind against your own fingers, feeling the pressure already building despite hardly touching yourself. Your face feels hot and sweaty, you let out a rather loud moan and you feel a lightning strike as your clit pulses. You think of Messmer, how close you were, you could have kissed him, you should have. 

Maybe you’d be in his bed, under him, him inside you instead of your own fingers playing with yourself. You glide your fingers lower till you feel the source of your wetness, you tease your hole gently with one finger. Slowly you sink the digit in, grazing that soft sweet spot that has your thighs convulsing, shaking with pleasure. 

It's not enough, you think and slowly sink in another. You feel so close. You move your other hand to your clit and circle the bud, feeling your orgasm ready to snap. You pump your fingers in your hole faster, the obscene sound of your wetness makes you blush. You hold your breath and quicken your pace, you’re not in the mood for a long session, you just need the release. 

You let out mewls of pleasure, you feel a small sheen of sweat on your brow and down your back. Your arms are already starting to ache from the movements. You knit your brows and circle your clit faster. Thoughts filled with Messmer's touches, his thick arms, beautiful face. 

You thrust your hips into your hands, grazing over that sweet spot once more, enough to finally send you over the edge and you’re overcome with your orgasm, warmth pooling in your stomach sending fire through your veins. You gush over your fingers as you press against that sweet spot inside you. 

Your fingers and thighs shake. You moan and pant, you keep swirling your fingers over your clit, drawing out your orgasm as long as you can. Your body twitches with pleasure and you whisper out Messmer as you climax. 

You remove your fingers from your hole, glistening with your wetness, you wipe them on your inner thigh and feel your limbs suddenly go limp with ecstasy. You press your face into the pillow, breathing heavy as the wash of dopamine settles your muscles. 

Tenderly you close your eyes, blinking away the few tears that line your waterline. Your body shivers on the comedown of your orgasm, the afterglow washing over you. You’re hit with a wave of emotions, but slowly you feel the tender embrace of sleep come over you. 

You remember what a long day it’s been, you suddenly feel exhausted. You tug the sheet under your chin and let out a long breath, waiting for sleep to take you over.

***

Messmer stands against his chamber door, head resting back on the wood with a thud. He still has a grip on the handle, wanting to exit the room and return to you. Instead he pushes himself away from the wood and walks over to the Ember that’s still burning but getting dimmer by the day. He frowns and lets his fingers glide through the flame with ease, not burning him at all. 

He fears his curse will someday take hold, the grace in his face will fail and the serpent under his skin will finally take its final form and burst from his core. He shakes his head, trying to remove the negative thoughts and ruin such a perfect evening. 

He picks up the small viewing mirror and cradles it in his palm, he tilts it so he can see his reflection, his golden eye shining orange, refracting the Ember. He sighs as he recalls looking up at you, like a saint or deity, how you smiled so bright and fit so well in his arms. 

He feels himself wanting to return to you, to burst open your bedroom door and hold you tight, touch you. But he holds himself back, he worries you’re just being kind to him for your own sake, he did trap you here after all. He’s also worried he’ll scare you off, that he kept you here for only his lustful desires. 

He shakes his head again, getting annoying by the shadow the pessimistic thoughts are casting over the positive ones. He recalls you laughing when devouring the food, how you smiled at him when he threw away his cutlery, how you shine bright like the sun in his presents. He thinks about your soft neck,  the swell of your breasts near his face, the sweet smell of you so close to him. Your hooded sultry eyes, public fully dilated with desire. 

Messmer lets out a groan as he feels his cock start to twitch, he covers himself with his palm to stop it from growing, but the pressure makes him let out a whimper. 

He hasn’t touched himself in ages, he can't even recall the last time. Despite living alone in his castle and having no romantic companion, he never felt the urge to pleasure himself till you came along. 

He tightens his grip around the small mirror so firm he worries it might crack. Steadily he plods over to his bed and settles down gently. Ophis and Fidi are still wrapped around his shoulders, asleep for the night. He sinks onto the bed, letting out a sigh. He looks up at his door, hoping it would crack open and you would step inside. But no, the door remained shut. 

Crawling into bed (and onto a mountain of pillows to support his back and protruding snakes), Messmer sighs and thinks about you, your smile, your laugh, your gentle touches and caring nature. He wished to see you once more before his slumber, as if to dream of you as if you’re not just down the hallway. 

He lifts the small mirror to his face, seeing his reflection, his tired eyes and ashen skin.

“Show me the maiden,” he whispers.

His reflection is soon distorted, swirls of gold and silver shimmer on the glass and soon he sees your sleeping figure.

His stomach flips at the sight of you, despite only seeing you moments ago. He watches as you twitch, your face furrowed. He feels his smile drop and his cock twitch as he notices the movement of the sheet over your body - he notices your parted lips then taking the bottom between your teeth. 

Your shoulders move up and down and your covered arm writhes back and forward. The outline of your hand moving between your legs and you twitch. He hears you groan as if in pain, but soon his brain catches up with his ears and realised you weren’t in pain, but he heard your delicious moans.

Quickly, Messmer slams the mirror down onto the bed, his cheeks red hot and his mouth dry. He caught you touching yourself. He brings his hand to cover his mouth in shock. He feels a twang of mortification in his stomach for spying on you, but even worse to be spying on you during such an intimate moment. 

His embarrassment becomes overlooked as he feels his cock finally grow from semi to hard, tenting his tunic and becoming sensitive to the thick fabric around his waist. He lets out a gasp, unsure what to do with himself. 

His mind swimming with the image of you, right now, down the hall, playing with yourself. He removes his hand from his mouth and grips the bedsheet hard so he could tear the fibres. He pictures your sweet naked body, soft and perfect for him, your skin tone glowing under candle light. 

He feels a layer of sweat form on his brow. His breathing laboured and his mouth uncomfortably dry. Without thinking, he pulls his tunic over his hips and lets his hardened member spring free, he looks down at it and returns to his ashamed state. 

Messmer, cursed with the serpents touch, doesn’t sport a natural human cock, no, his cock looks like two together, one larger on top but a smaller encased underneath but sheathed together with thick dusky pink skin and protruding veins either side. The head shaped normally with a slight point towards the slit, and already leaking from arousal. Luckily, not much bigger than a human cock despite his size.

His cheeks flush as he stares at his unusual cock, fear flashing through his mind at you ever seeing it. He bites his lower lip between his teeth, fingertips gently gliding down his taut stomach, over the patch of thick vivid red hair and he gently wraps his hand around the base and squeezes lightly. 

He hisses at the feeling, fire burning in his stomach. He gives himself a few tugs, his calloused hand causing an unpleasant friction, a small whimper and moan leaves his slender lips. He lets his palm slither over the tip, collecting the dribbling pre-cum pearling on his slit to use as lubrication. 

He feels like a teenager again, awkward and unsure but also unnaturally horny. He goes back to pumping himself slowly, feeling the pressure building up in the base of his cock. He shifts on his pillows, spreading his legs more as he rests his head back and thinking about you. 

More images of you touching yourself invades his mind, thinking about how wet you must have been when he held you. He wished he touched you, kissed your neck, squeezed your plump hips. 

A shiver runs up his spine, his hips slowly rocking into his fist as his movements get faster, the crude sound of him and his occasional whimpers was rare. He recalls your sweet moans, muffled by the mirror's power but still so pleasant. 

The head of his cock leaks more pre-cum as he feels his hips shudder and twitch, just like you. He opens his eyes, hoping to see you standing there in that dress, slowly taking it off and showing him your perfect body. Instead he sees nothing but an empty charred room.

An expletive falls from his lips as he feels the heat in his veins start to bubble, he starts to panic as he notices small flickers of fire coming off his skin. Burning off into the air before hitting the bedsheet. His brows furrowed and his panting becoming rapid. 

“No, no no,” he stutters as the lick of his first orgasm in years shoots through his cock, the pressure unbearable. He grabs his bed sheet tight with his free hand, pulling it to his mouth to cover his moans. 

He squeezes his eyes tight, a final few pumps and he orgasms, hard. Spend flies out of him, thick and white, he can’t stop his movements even as his cock runs extremely sensitive. He draws out his orgasm, more spurts of cum cover his hand and stomach. 

He moans loud, luckily he’s able to muffle the noise into the sheets in his grip. He squeezes the last few drops out before letting go of his slowly softening cock. 

Messmer closes his eyes, tears nearly falling from the corners and he lets out a shuddering ‘phft’. With his clean hand, he covers his face, a mixture of emotions washes over him - joy, fear, disgust, lust. 

Opening his eyes, he looks down at the bedsheet to see a small hole still burning in the fabric. His eyes go wide. He didn’t realise he sparked a flame from his climax. He throws his head back in anger. 

“I don’t want to burn her.” He whispers to himself. 

He lies in his afterglow for a moment, letting his muscles relax. But he starts to feel his spend become sticky and uncomfortable on skin. Weakly he rises from his bed and cleans himself up with the water by his bed. 

He feels his snakes around his shoulders twitch and wiggle. He pats them over his cloak. He recalls his youth when he first started to pleasure himself, how awkward it was with his companions there, but also not at the same time - since they were a part of him. 

Letting out a sigh, he collapses back onto his mountain of pillows and rests his hand on his stomach and the other above his head. Staring up at the char mark on his ceiling. He lets his euphoria wash over him and lull into a slumber, he hopes to dream of you. 

[phightingheadcanons]

GO GO GADGET HEADCANON DUMP

- rocket is partially deaf due to his hearing being worn down from years of explosion damage

- boombox is legally blind since spawn and uses the visor to see; even without the visor, though, he has amazing hearing

- traffic is book dumb, but has a lot of street smarts; pwnatious is the opposite, being quite intelligent but without much wisdom due to their sheltered upbringing

- subspace has a forked tongue like a snake

- sword loves bullet hell games and rocket enjoys watching him play

- shuriken once wore a dress and platform stilettos to a phight to one-up scythe for the shits and giggles

- darkheart sometimes shows up in random demons' houses to put a singular fish in their fridge and leave

- vine staff knows acoustic guitar and piano

- sword gets along very well with birds

- skateboard wears fake horns with his helmet due to being self-conscious about the fact his real ones broke in a skating accident

- ban hammer loves dino nuggets

- the thieves' den roommates have mario kart nights; every time it ends in rage and broken property

- katana makes little wood carvings and gives them as gifts

- if provoked, medkit will insult you in the most flowery yet ego-obliterating way possible

- hyperlaser is like an ipad baby but 38 years old and exclusively for cat videos

- katana is tech illiterate and posts like a grandma on facebook

- mx bot once hacked a biograft and accidentally gave it the ability to feel emotions

- subspace randomly dms medkit with the most unhinged shit no matter how many times he blocks him

- she/he/it subspace

- scythe cannot play chess for the life of her. every time she breaks the rules she's like "it's legal 'cause i said so. now shut your mouth b'fore i git yer ass"

- ghostwalker is british

- icedagger uses a lot of filler words (like 'uh' and 'like') and has a slight stutter

- firebrand sends minion memes to the other deities

- traffic sometimes takes ghosdeeri and lightblox along on his adventures, especially being gentle and caring towards lightblox

.

[gardenofnoah]

the lamp light is warm across the cut of kento’s jaw. you feel it as you watch it clench—somewhere deep in your gut, the gesture makes a home that is as wholly familiar as the creak in the second step up the stairs. his hard angles are like that—you could close your eyes and know the contours of his face from memory, just as you do your own. brow furrowed in focus, he’s so beautiful that it’s almost unsettling. time has not changed him.

not like it’s changed you.

“hello, my love.”

you raise your eyes to meet his, now looking up at you. there’s a soft smile on his face—it’s not teasing, like it would’ve been 5 years ago if he’d caught you staring. likewise, you don’t have it in you to feel sheepish at being caught. not anymore.

you return the greeting, but you know that it’s not as enthusiastic as you want it to be. kento seems to know it, too. he slides the stack of papers in front of him to the side of his desk, leaving the spot in front of him empty. when he looks up at you again it’s an invitation, and it’s one that no matter how shitty you feel, you could never pass up.

you cross the room without an unnecessary step, and he leans back in his chair for you to slot yourself between him and the desk. you take your seat on the wood and he leans forward, reaching for you as he always does when you’re close enough to be just too far from him. his fingers brush down the back of your calves until they wrap around your ankles, gently pulling your feet onto his lap. you let out a little sigh when his thumbs press into the soles.

“something on your mind?”

you meet his gaze again, and it’s both fond and a little worried. he’s as perceptive as he always was—you suppose he’s had to be, though the reasons that necessitated that are few and far between now. the toe dip into retirement has turned into more of a knee-deep wade, and now he mostly uses his observational prowess on you.

you sit back on your hands, sighing a little. 5 years ago, you would’ve vehemently denied that anything was wrong, if only to make sure you could be a partner that never took up too much space. you can’t bring yourself to do that now.

“i look….different.”

he cocks his head to the side, and for a second, he almost looks boyish. it’s warm when it rubs up against the frozen thing in your chest—it thaws you a little.

“different than?”

“different than i used to.”

“right.”

5 years ago, kento’s affirmation would’ve sent you into a tailspin. but it’s different now—you know he doesn’t mean it negatively. it’s more of a prompt for you to continue—a way for him to show you he’s present in the conversation.

“i feel bad about that.”

his brows furrow again—a tiny crease in the middle of them that makes you want to reach out and poke it.

“why do you feel bad about that?”

“i don’t know,” you tip your head back, looking to the ceiling like it’ll have the words you’re searching for on it, “i just…wasn’t expecting the change, i guess. i feel like i don’t know what my body looks like anymore.”

he’s silent while he takes in your words, thumbs sliding up the inside arch of your foot while he thinks. 5 years ago, his silence would have ate at you until you packed it with empty filler to take away from the heaviness you brought into the conversation. it doesn’t bother you now, though—you know he wants to hear what you have to say. you feel secure enough to say it.

“are there specific things about your body that you feel bad about?”

you nod after a moment, choosing not to elaborate. it really didn’t matter what they were—it was not as if it was your first time feeling body insecurity, but this feeling carried a bit of existentialism that you weren’t familiar with—that was the problem.

“i feel like i’m too soft,” you say after another moment of silence. it’s not a bombshell that shatters it—it’s just a tiny pebble dropped from above that disturbs the surface.

“for who?”

“me.”

his fingers curl around your ankles and hold you there while his eyes graze your face. “what do you need right now, my love?”

his eyes settle on yours and you feel your own need for him flare up inside your chest. too warm for the thing that was there before. melted, you crack.

“maybe a hug.”

you blink and he’s standing before you, strong arms reaching around your shoulders to cage your head in to his chest. your thighs squeeze around the outside of his instinctively, like to pull him in is all you know how to do. the hand on the back of your head is warm and unwavering like the rest of him.

“not that you asked for this,” he murmurs into your skin, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, “but i love you soft. you change and i love you more than i thought i could.”

you press your forehead to his collar bone on a shaky exhale, letting his words wash over you. kento is nothing if not a man of whole truths—the biggest of those is that he loves you. it’s not like him to offer you meaningless affirmations just to placate you, so you know this carries weight—you take it for what it is.

“i want to love me soft, too.”

“i know,” he whispers into your hairline, “give it some time. you’ve done this before, no?”

his palm finds the base of your neck and massages the perpetual ache out of the muscle. there are moments that you are grateful for kento’s ability to find solutions where you cannot—to accept the control you hand to him on the basis of trust that has been earned over the years—but right now you’re grateful for his ability to know when to leave something unresolved. it might be true that to let this air out is the best thing for you to do—and knowing you’ll have kento to lean on when it doesn’t seem so simple is helpful.

the warm light casts shadows of your bodies against the wall—distorted and conjoined, and still more beautiful than you’ve ever seen. you think you can understand what he meant.

“love you, ken.”

he presses his smile into the crown of your head. “i love you, too.”

[komakesthings]

A while back I made Jareth's crop out of a metal cane and existing crop and I had this nagging thought in my head telling me "I bet you could make this from scratch and make it even more movie accurate too...". So here's version 2, made completely from scratch with some wooden dowels, worbla, a contact juggling ball, and a few other bits and pieces.

Really thrilled with how this turned out, super satisfying to have created something so cool from scratch. Shout out to the amazingly talented Alyson Tabbitha for her Jareth costume tutorial on Youtube, which I used to make the Jareth shirt used in the first photo. The pic of me as Jareth holding the crop has become one of my favourite pictures that I've taken of my prop replicas, so glad that it turned out exactly like I pictured in my head. I'll put a few WIP shots below!

I used two dowels for this project, a a 7/8 inch large wooden dowel for the handle, and a 7/16 inch dowel for the rod part. I drilled into the larger rod so that I could slot the smaller rod inside of it, and both rods were drilled into so I could insert a wood pin to strengthen the join.

I added some wire to help form the "talons" of the crop, which was then covered by worbla. I also used a cut off bit of a wooden door knob to form a little trim piece for the end of the crop handle.

The crystal is a 50 mm contact juggling ball, which had just enough wiggle room in the "Talons" where I can squeeze it in and out to make painting easier. Just as an FYI, the crystal in these WIP pictures was a smaller one that I swapped out later, so excuse that continuity error!

I used my heat gun to heat/form the worbla, but I made sure not to apply the heat to the contact juggling ball as it was made out of acrylic and could deform with heat. I would use the heat gun to warm the worbla, then while it was still hot I would put the ball in place and form the worbla around it. Any blemishes on the ball (From either the worbla or the paint in the later stages), came off with a q-tip dampened with rubbing alcohol.

For this project, painting was using a filler primer, followed by a black glossy spray paint, followed by a silver spray paint, a wash of black acrylic paint to bring out the details, and some silver rub n'buff on the highest points of the sculpt.

Then I just wound the rod with some leather binding tape, patterned out the slappy bit of the crop, sewed a little pocket onto the slappy bit so that it could slot onto the crop, and then tidied up the join area with some waxed thread.

[koolaidoverliving]

GENERAL HCS FOR EVERYONE, GO!

OOOOOO FUNNNN

these are gonna be all over the place LMFAO just a bunch of random stuff they do in my AU nothing specific

GENERAL HEADCANONS

Characters: Jeff, Ben, Sally, Toby, Clockwork, Kate, Nurse Ann, Eyeless Jack, Lulu, Lazari, Liu, Jane, Nina, The Puppeteer, Bloody Painter, Judge Angels, Lucy, Suicide Sadie, Jason, Nathan, Candy Pop, Laughing Jack, Zero, Kagekao, X-Virus

Lazari has terrible pronunciation and grammar. Ben makes fun of her for it while Lulu teaches her better English.

Sally invites the proxies to attend her weekly tea parties. Except for Zero and Kagekao. They're banned.

Nina has a dislike for Clockwork due to her being Jeff's best-friend. She's rather petty towards her — like an annoying high school girl — which Clockwork rolls an eye at.

Over time, Clockwork and Toby help Nina realise how bad Jeff is for her. But right now in the AU, Nina is head over heels for a man who doesn't love her back.

Jeff takes good care of his appearance. He deeply hates how he looks since the incident, so he's always trying new things to make himself look better. For that reason he steals a lot of skincare, accessories and makeup.

Nurse Ann's hair was turned red due to Zalgo's influence. It's nothing significant, just an effect of her reanimation. Her original hair colour is brown.

Liu was somewhat of a delinquent when he was a teenager. He taught his little brother how to jump fences and steal from people at church.

Liu and Jeff have matching rosary necklaces. Jeff can't get himself to wear it anymore. Too much guilt.

Eyeless Jack likes gardening. He has flower pots lined on the window sill and a mini produce garden in front of his cabin. His favourite flower is the snapdragon.

He uses grown herbs to make herbal remedies and perfumes for Lulu.

Toby and Kate steal from Jack's garden. Kate does it unknowingly because Toby lies and tells her they're gifts from Jack.

Kate sometimes collapses in the woods after her Chaser form. When it gets too late and she isn't home, a few proxies go out to look for her.

The Bloody Painter and The Puppeteer are best friends, although Pup tends to be possessive of him.

The Puppeteer is superficially nice. The kind of nice that makes you wonder if there's something worse underneath the surface.

Zero's last name is The Hero. "Cower before me, humans! It is I: Zero The Hero!"

She is also colourblind (can only see in monochrome) and can't tell the difference between Toby and Cody.

Zero loves politics because of the tension it arises. She tried to run for "president of the mansion". Ben ran against her and he won.

Laughing Jack rarely leaves his box.

Once a month, Toby and Cody "switch places" — changing clothes and pretending to be each other. Cody hates this; Toby finds it funny.

Cody mindlessly lies about little things. It's like filler conversation. He isn't paying attention and just says stuff. "What'd you do this weekend?" "Built a snowman," Cody says, even though it's summer.

Lucy hates The Puppeteer because he's always stealing "dad" (Helen) away from "mom" (Dina). It's one-sided beef.

Dina is a bookworm. She's the type to sit under the shade on a plaid picnic blanket and read a novel while eating freshly picked strawberries.

Sadie is also a bookworm. Except she reads Colleen Hoover books and recommends it to Dina. Dina smiles and nods, knowing she'll never read that.

Jane listens to true-crime podcasts — or rather interviews with past victims. She finds it easier to cope with her trauma knowing she's not in it alone.

Candy Pop has a skill for writing. He had spent a lot of time in libraries, utterly fascinated by human works. Candy Pop writes poetry, novels and plays of his own.

He's pretty childish, too. He likes making friendship bracelets, drawing with chalk, crafting (ugly) dolls, etc.

The kids join in when Candy Pop is absentmindedly drawing on the streets. Lucy finds Candy Pop to be rather embarrassing and talks shit about him to Crystal. "He's playing with crayons and chalk at his big age!" "...No comment."

Nathan is a self-taught tattoo artist. All his piercings and tattoos are done by himself.

Jason and Nathan take care of stray cats that roam around. There isn't a vet at the town, so they try their best to keep both the cats and themselves safe. Candy Pop isn't allowed near these cats because he tries to juggle them.

Jason has a sweet tooth — particularly for biscuits and tea. The amount of sugar he consumes contrasts his bitter personality.

wow... long post. these are just a bunch of random facts!

send an ask if you have any questions!!! :D

[pluckyredhead]

Red Hood and the Outlaws #6 (2011)

Hey, remember when I was recapping this series? Well, unfortunately for all of us, I'm gonna do it some more.

I will admit this is a pretty good cover.

This shit, however, makes me so mad. What an absolutely lazy waste of space. This comic is 20 pages long, not including the cover. That means that this two page spread is literally an entire tenth of the story, and it's used to convey...what? That Jason just fought some guys who were trying to smuggle nukes into Miami.

A two-page spread is meant to deliver impact: a crucial moment in the story, a stunning piece of art, an impressive sense of scale (Galactus looming over the Earth, whatever). This does none of that. Most of the page is just a teal gradient; Rocafort didn't even bother to draw an impressive underwater scene. (I kind of don't blame him, because it would have been a waste of his time, since this scene is NOT NARRATIVELY IMPORTANT.)

Also, the page before this is also a splash, and the one after is three panels depicting Jason caught in an explosion, and that's a generous description considering that one of the panels has nothing in it but bubbles. So now we're up to TWENTY percent of the comic, a full FIFTH of the story, and we have conveyed LITERALLY NOTHING except "Jason got caught up in an underwater explosion."

This is lazy writing and lazy art. This is charging the reader for 20 pages of story and delivering maybe seven, content-wise. It's shamelessly ripping off the audience, and they aren't even trying to pretend they aren't doing it. I don't know if Lobdell didn't have enough story in him or if he was trying to give Rocafort more time to drawn stupid little lines all over everything, New 52-style, but it pisses me off.

Anyway, Jason wakes up on an island a few days later (and a narration box on the first page established that this takes place before RHATO #1):

This page has six panels which is a very respectable amount, although I still don't think it's a great use of space. But I guess Rocafort was really busy adding wood texture to all the panel borders for no reason. Anyway the little pile of leaves Kori has graciously dropped over Jason's dick is very funny.

Jason wakes up, tries to demand his pants from Kori at gunpoint, and passes out again. He has a flashback to the world's most hideous Nightwing costume:

Awful. Also, Jason flounces off in a bratty little fit in the next couple panels, but I support him, because if you actually read what Dick's saying, it's meaningless filler.

See, now this is an appropriate use of a two-page spread for impact and scale. Much more effective. Imagine how effective it would have been if every other spread for five issues hadn't tried and failed at this!

Kori offers Jason some clothing, which turns out to be the hideous Nightwing suit, and Jason flashes back to Under the Red Hood: Shitty Version:

Who needs "Because he took me away from you" when we have whatever the fuck this is?

Jason gets all upset. Kori sniffs Dick's costume and says she can't remember his name, but she has fond memories of the guy who used to wear it. There's a flashback of her and Dick and Roy in action together. Okay, so she clearly remembers Dick and Roy at least somewhat, which is probably Lobdell starting to walk back the controversial amnesia bullshit in the first issue.

Jason tells Kori his connection to Dick and asks if she's mad, which...even setting aside Kori's memory issues and general lack of grudge holding in any continuity, why would she be mad that Jason has the same mentor as a guy she remembers fondly? Anyway, she is indeed not mad and they hug it out. If this is supposed to be depicting Jason's smug "I've been with her" in the first issue, it...really doesn't read like they boned.

Jason's narration on the last page further obscures things:

"Friendship and romance are really the same thing. Anyway LET'S TALK ABOUT ROY HARPER." Okay I know that's me reading with ship goggles but it truly is a very funny transition.

So that's how Jason met Kori! She...pulled him out of the water, and they discussed how they both knew Dick. Definitely worth spending a whole issue on that very interesting story!

[bleachbleachbleach]

I wanna know what Ikkaku knows about Urahara:

[Bleach 087]

Like, do they... know each other? The visual suggests that someone in the scene knows Urahara was a captain, and it sure ain't Ichigo. So I feel like we're meant to understand that Ikkaku knows this.

Urahara's name also holds weight in terms of Ichigo's viability as an opponent, which suggests Ikkaku knows Urahara as someone other than some rando criminal, or just as a Mad Scientist type. It's Ichigo's movement that impresses Ikkaku, not his strategic craftiness.

I don't try that hard to keep the Gotei's 20th Century straight in my mind, but we do know that during TBTP Zaraki wasn't 11th Captain yet, and therefore Ikkaku may not have been in the Gotei at that point then, ether. (There's a whole dispersal of 11th backstory filler eps, which I've been assuming aren't in the manga in any form, but who knows, maybe some of this backstory info also holds true here, too. In the anime, Ikkaku and Yumichika follow Zaraki into the Gotei.)

In any case, apparently Ikkaku has a whole Seireitei family (see: TYBW), so maybe they were well-positioned for all the hot TBTP goss regardless of whether Ikkkau was enlisted at the time.

Or does everyone just know who Urahara is? Obviously, he's a poorly kept secret at least as far as his outpost goes; he's made a whole business out of it. But if Rukia knew he'd been a captain she doesn't harp on it.

And if there's something you can count on me for, it is knowledge of random-ass Hitsugaya panels:

[Bleach 237]

Hitsugaya says he doesn't know who Urahara is. Well, he's heard the rumors about Urahara, but says Urahara is someone whose true nature can't be ascertained. He probably does know what Urahara used to be a captain. He's heard that he's formidable, and probably isn't someone to let your guard down around. Which, really, is all the things we know Ikkaku knows about Urahara. Hitsugaya's just not willing to extrapolate further based on rumor alone. Maybe Ikkaku is.

But based on how Urahara's name influences the way Ikkaku chooses to fight Ichigo, I feel like Ikkaku is not operating solely on rumor, either. Someone's battle prowess/skill as a mentor doesn't seem like something he'd accept without firsthand knowledge, even if he's willing to roll with it for other stuff. So I feel like it's perfectly defensible to argue that even if Ikkaku wasn't actually in the Gotei while Urahara was in the picture, he still had an ~encounter (and probably not while Urahara was in his Innocent Shopkeeper era).

Maybe Ikkaku ran into Urahara in the woods when Urahara was off making an impression on Kuukaku [1][2]. Or Ikkaku's Seireitei family sic'd the Onmitsukidou on him while he was off playing hooky in Rukongai! Tons of fun possibilities!

Of course, this raises the time-honored question of what, if anything, anyone in the current Gotei knows about TBTP. Because it really seems like they know nothing, and didn't even know there was something to not know. But for a lot of them that might be an effect of their willingness to pretend they know nothing? So I feel like you could go in a lot of directions with that. Not to have blorbo disease again, but Hitsugaya seemed like he was learning Vizard Lore in real-time during the Winter War, so apparently it's not like, part of some kind of Area 51 folder you gain access to when you become a captain lol. YOU HAD TO BE THERE. (BUT ALSO SOMETIMES NOT EVEN THEN)

[materlux]

The Priestess and The Swordsman - Chapter 2: "Will you help me?"

This took longer to finish, honestly it's not favorite work and is more like a filler chapter to tie the previous to the last.

I added Yanqing, learnt I have absolutly no idea how that boy acts, and improvised, sort of.

I still hope you enjoy!

CW: Mentions of: Curses, blood, death, chronic illness? It's angst/fluff, JIng Yuan being a worried dad, and Mimi, found family. 2.6k

Bog-rosemary represents; to be bound by fate.

Honkai Star Rail | Main Masterlist

It’s been a week, you think, you have been losing track of time these past days. Since you were bedridden, you spent most hours of the day asleep or half conscious, under the watchful eyes of various healers from the alchemy commission, courtesy of Lady Bailu and Jing Yuan.

   Lady Bailu comes to see you at least once this week, to replenish the bandages and the ointment for your arm, and check on you herself.

   Jing Yuan is here at least once a day, you get the feeling he’s using you to skip work, but you like the company so you don’t question him.

   Aside from the healers who come and go, your best company has been Jing Yuan’s 400 something pound ‘cat’, Mimi, who he clearly trusts greatly. When he first brought it with him, you thought he had gone mad, but Mimi has proven to be great company. 

   He lays himself out on the bed by your side, no one would be foolish enough to do anything to you with a lion as your bodyguard. He’s very warm and his fur is soft, he keeps quiet and lets you sleep as you please; and on the days when you get up to wander the small room, he follows you around and lets you use him for support. All around a good roommate.

   Today is the first day you have felt more alive, energy is practically exploding out of you, but you are under strict rules: No moving from your bed when you are alone. For once no healers are walking back and forth, Lady Bailu isn’t here to see to you herself, you’re alone. 

   Well, not entirely alone, Mimi lays stretched out on the wood floor before a window, sunlight bathing his light fur. He’s been asleep since the moment he walked into the light, what careless behaviour, you wish you could indulge in the same careless behaviour.

   An idea, Mimi is a surprisingly great caretaker, it’s like he knows you're sick. With him around you aren’t alone, so technically you can get out of bed, it’s not like anyone is here to see you break the rule.

   So you get out of bed and instantly Mimi is by your side, as you walk he stays pressed up against your side. You rest your hand on his back, his fur is still warm from the sun. You walk around the small room, it quickly gets boring, you have seen everything in this room at least a dozen times now. The door leading out to the small seating area and kitchen is right there, unlocked and easy to open.

   It’s been awhile since you’ve seen the seating area or kitchen, it’s cosy; with a couch covered in pillows and blankets, a coffee table with dark coffee stains, and walls covered in picture frames of people you don’t know. The kitchen is stocked with food and drinks, the counters are clear and light shines in over the sink. Outside the window, the garden stretches seemingly endlessly.

   You stand before the front door, it’s made of dark wood with raised details. If it was a rule that you had to stay in bed, it was basically law that you stay in the house, but you long to see the flowers, feel the breeze and the sun, touch the running water. One step outside wouldn’t kill you, plus Mimi won’t leave your side.

   The stone pathway is warm under your feet, the breeze caresses your hair, the flowers are soft on your skin. You slowly make your way around the garden, you intend to stay close to the house, only wandering around the first couple of beds, but the sound of running water and the desire to feel it on your skin lures you away.

   The small stream of water leads into a pond filled with lilies, the pump under the water is slightly clogged with algae, so parts of the surrounding area have turned swampy or boggy. Small pink bell-like flowers bloom from low growing plants, you kneel down to look closer to them, bog-rosemary you conclude. The water is cold as it runs over your hand, it sends a shock through your nerves.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

   You don’t know how long you spend out in the garden, Mimi stays by your side like you expected. What you don’t expect is to see the General of the Luofu looking so frazzled, he looks around frantically, until he spots you.

   Jing Yuan walks down the pathway in quick steps, out of instinct you take a step back, he looks upset. He stands before you and for the first time he seems to be at a loss for words, he looks down at you wide eyed like you just insulted his entire bloodline.

   “What are you doing!?” He asks in a raised voice, his tone makes you wince. “You’re supposed to stay in bed!” You feel so small before him now, you take another step back and avoid his eyes. “Look at me! What are you doing?” He demands, you glance up.

   His eyes are fierce, hot molten gold full of anger, your mouth dries up and your throat closes. You know he won’t hurt you, your whole body and mind knows he won’t lay a finger on you. So then why do you suddenly feel so threatened? Why do you want to run away and hide? Why is he making you feel like this, he’s never done anything to warrant this reaction.

   But as you look into his eyes, molten gold gives way to cold silver, they look down at you with disgust, something so foreign in the gold but all too familiar here. The priest drinks from his cup of wine, dark and red, but seems too thick to be just wine, what is it? The room closes in around you, the doors vanish and he leans in, it’s too much it’s all too much.

   Something soft and warm brushes against your leg, Mimi’s standing between you and the General, the tuft of fur at the end of his tail brushes against your leg with every swing. He lets out a low growl, he must have sensed your distress and come to your aid, defending you from his owner.

   Jing Yuan looks taken aback by the display, and yet he doesn’t seem upset about it, almost proud. He takes a deep breath, and much more softly beckons you to look at him. You do, the formerly molten gold full of anger, gives way to something underlying, concern.

   “Why are you out here?” He asks more calmly this time, there’s no malice in his tone. “I- I just wanted to see the garden…” you answer quietly, you look down at your feet and study the gaps in the stone.

   He speaks your name so softly you might have mistaken it as the wind, but the wind wouldn’t be able to mimic even half the affection in his tone. You look up at him, and with a gentle hand gesture he beckons you over, with small steps you move to stand before him. A warm hand grazes your skin, rubbing at tears you didn’t notice were falling.

   “Next time you want to go out, wait for me.” He smiles gently down at you, and you nod. “Okay,” he nearly whispers. “But I am glad to see you feeling better.”

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

   From then on, on the days you feel well, you wait for him on the couch, Mimi resting by your feet. He guides you around the garden, and holds you steady when the curse makes the world spin. In return you tell him about the flowers in the garden, about all their hidden meanings and useful abilities.

   On days when you can’t leave the bed, he sits by your side and rests, you wonder if the position is even comfortable. You ask him about his day, and he opts to tell you about the fun stuff, the happenings of the Luofu, and how diviner Fu is ‘oh so cruel’ for making him do paperwork on such a fine day. Much like Mimi, the lion-like general also makes for good company, he keeps your days interesting and less quiet.

   On bad days he holds your hand as healers attend you, people you barely know asking questions and treating your arm, he helps keep you grounded and he even answers some questions when you can’t. A rough but warm thumb running over your knuckles, as the healer rubs ointment over your darkening skin.

   The black tendrils have started creeping past your shoulder, over your collarbone and up the side of your neck. Areas near the beginning are cracking open, they burn terribly, they keep you awake through all hours of the day and night.

   Lady Bailu comes by and does her own examination of the damage, she offers you some painkillers and soothing tea to ease your mind, a good night's rest is important for your health, she says as she bandages your arm and helps you back into your shirt.

   She leaves your room, she and Jing Yuan speak just beyond the door, you can’t hear what they say but you recognize their voices. It must have been bad news, because when Jing Yuan returns with Mimi hot on his heels, he has a solemn and almost distant look to him.

   Mimi joins you on the bed as you adjust yourself, you weave your fingers into his mane, untangling knots as you go. Jing Yuan takes his place by your side, the old chair creaks in protest, he stares at the wall across the room, clearly in deep thought.

   “What’s wrong?” You ask, you’re looking down at Mimi, he looks back at you and rumbles. Jing Yuan stays quiet, he must be deep in thought.

   “Yuan, what’s wrong?” Your hand escapes Mimi’s mane to poke at Jing Yuan’s arm, he snaps out of his stupor and looks at you. “What’s wrong?” You repeat the question again, but he only looks at you, with something akin to pity.

   “Nothing,” he says, but he sounds distant, you aren’t convinced.

   “If it’s about me, shouldn’t I also know?” It may be phrased like a question, but it’s meant as a statement, because you should know. The room grows quiet as he looks into your eyes, you hold eye contact and he relents with a sigh.

   “The healers and Lady Bailu theorise that once the tendrils reach your head, well…” The words die on his tongue, but you get it.

   “I die,” you finish, he winces and his eyes seem to go glassy.

   “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

   “What for? There was nothing you could do, only the aeons can undo this.”

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

   It’s like the air around you has grown heavy with a sort of sadness, and frankly you’re kind of tired of it, all this grieving over you when you’re right here. Sure more of the tendrils have started cracking open, and your bedsheets need to be changed almost everyday because of the blood, and yeah your skin is more lifeless now, but still.

   Mimi is the only one who seems unbothered by the heavy air, he sleeps in your lap, as you tease his mane into weird hairdos. Lady Bailu comes to see you more often now, you get the feeling Jing Yuan would like the same freedom, but he has important duties to fulfil.

   One day you offer a solution to this problem, one that would also satiate a certain curious itch of yours, he could take you to his office. That way he can feel more at ease and you get to see the General of the Luofu’s office, how cool wouldn’t that be.

   You already asked Lady Bailu, and she agrees under some conditions: You must stay seated, covered by a blanket for warmth, and Lady Bailu and other chosen healers must be allowed entrance at all times. You nod along to it all, it suits you just fine, you even add your own condition: Mimi must be allowed to accompany you as well.

   You shush Jing Yuan and lay out the conditions, a solemn smile grazes his features, it makes you happy in return to see him a little less dreadful. He agrees to try it for just one day, and you take the offer.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

   The General of the Luofu’s office is massive, it dwarfs the priest’s old office and the atmosphere in this room is far more comfortable, despite the walls being lined with weaponry.

   You sit in the corner of the General’s chair, which is more like a bench, with a blanket and a lion’s head in your lap. The General in question walks back and forth before the desk while looking through documents. 

   It was odd at first to hear people call him General, when you are used to calling him by name. He is still adamant you only call by name, or the nickname you have taken to, it’s really just a shortening of his name: Yuan.

   A warm cup of tea is held between your cold palms, it’s a soothing herbal tea, recommended by Lady Bailu. It soothes your mind and nerves, and warms your body at the same time. Mimi doesn’t mind when you rest the cup and your hands on his head, when your arms become tired.

   A young boy, maybe your age, walks with purpose and confidence up the collection of stairs before the General’s desk. He goes to exchange words with Jing Yuan, but his eyes spot you on the chair, the two of you stare at each other for a moment.

   The boy looks back at Jing Yuan clearly confused, the General bears an ever relaxed disposition, and calmly explains the situation. The boy introduces himself as Yanqing, the General’s retainer and a lieutenant in the cloud knights. You introduce yourself, but leave out the part about your origin.

   The Lieutenant quickly goes back to his duties and reports to the General, after which he takes his leave. You see the boy again later in the evening, you slept from a little over midday to now, the sun is setting and you’ll be going back to your room soon.

   You expect the Lieutenant to leave after he gives, what you guess is his last report of the day, but he stays. As the General organises his documents and cleans his desk, the Lieutenant joins you behind the desk, at first you just look at each other.

   “Hello,” he says, somewhat awkwardly.

   “Hi,” you respond, your voice is laced with sleep.

   The General adjusts one last pile of papers, before he rounds the desk to stand by your side, he ushers Mimi from your lap and places the cup formerly in your hands, on the desk.

   “Yanqing,” he starts, gathering the blanket and wrapping it around your shoulders. “If you’d like to join me as I bring them back to their room, you’re welcome,” Jing Yuan offers, the young boy perks up and mulls over the option.

   “I’ll take you up on that offer, general.” He sounds so formel, especially compared to your ‘Yuan’.

   “Good.” The General smiles.

   The General bends down and gathers you in his arms, blanket and all, and stands with ease. Yanqing follows behind the General, but Mimi keeps pace by his side.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

   You fade in and out consciousness the entire walk, the voices of Yanqing and Jing Yuan bleed in and out of existence, like whispers on the wind. At some point, warmth and soft sheets envelop your body, distantly you feel a hand gently smooth over your hair, before the world goes quiet.

[desideriumwriter]

Anyone But You | Chapter 6 | F.W. x Fem!Reader

Chapter Summary - Sore and waking up in a familiar room, reader figures out what the aftermath of last night was for her.

Pairing - Fred Weasley x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Category - enemies to lovers + hurt/comfort

Content Warnings - cursing, mentions of bruises and injuries

Word Count - 1.8k

A/N: trying to get back into my groove, so this is just another filler chap ig, i don't like it but i hope you enjoy

Series Masterlist | F.W Masterlist | Previous | Next | Navi

The strong light of the sun peeked through the window. Your eyes fluttered open, the last thing you remembered was passing out in Fred’s arms. There was a pounding in your head and your entire body was sore as you took in your surroundings. The worst amount of pain came from your right arm. Which was wrapped from your hand to your elbow in bandages.

You looked around the room you were in, it definitely wasn’t a hospital room.

It was familiar but it wasn’t yours.

It was the twins.

And the throw blanket with a large “F” stitched into it told you whose bed you were in.

What the fuck were you doing in Fred Weasleys bed?

You groaned when you tried to sit up, pain and soreness shot through your entire body immediately, causing you to drop back down onto the bed. You laid there, weakly holding your torso in pain.

However, Freds bed was surprisingly comfortable, despite the amount of soreness you felt. The mattress sunk underneath you, the multiple pillows sat cool under your head nicely, and the blankets were soft. You hate to admit it, but it was cozy.

You had to get out of it eventually, and you couldn’t be seen here, in his bed.

You threw the sheets and blankets off your body, revealing your legs, scattered in small and large bruises, a few tiny scrapes and scratches made their cameos as well. You grimaced at the sight of it. It only gave you reminders of what happened last night, where you were last night. Bleeding and stuck in the dirt.

You really couldn't remember much, memories of last night turned foggy.

You pushed yourself up using your good arm, still wincing and whimpering at the small stings of pain. Your backpack sat on the floor, leaning against a wooden leg of Freds bed frame.

After successfully moving your feet to the floor, you shuffled them across the old wood, practically limping as you made it to the bathroom, not bothering to close the door as you looked in the mirror at your injuries from last night.

You looked ghastly.

There was gauze wrapped around your head, a very prominent bruise around your left eye, shades of purple painting your under eye. There was still some dried blood stuck in your hair, some stains of it on the side of your face.

You turned in the mirror, lifting up your shirt slightly to find one large bruise painting the left side of your ribcage.

You felt ghastly.

You tried to wiggle your fingers and roll around your hand with the bandages wrapped around it. It only ended up in you wincing at the feeling of a million little stabs going through your wrists.

“It’s broken.” A voice muttered from the side of you. You looked to the direction it came from, and there you saw Fred standing awkwardly, hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“Your hand. Arm. It’s broken.” He repeated, wincing at his own words.

“Really? How do you know?” You shot at him, slight sarcasm in your voice.

“Well, other than the fact of how you can’t move it without making a painful noise. I was there while my mum tried to fix you up.”

“Oh.” You said softly, focusing your attention back to your broken bone, trying to ignore that he stayed with you even after he got you back here.

“She couldn’t do much to it so she only used ferula on you. She was able to repair your bag too, there were a few small rips.”

You only nodded your head, hoping he would get the hint to leave so you could. You didn’t want him to see you limp back to the bedroom, you didn’t want him to see you in any form of vulnerability. Though with what happened the previous night, he somewhat already has.

“This might be bad timing but…” Fred held up something, you could see him in the corner of your eye, whatever he was holding was dangling and twinkling.

Shit.

“I reckon you said you had gotten rid of this?” His mouth curled into a sinister smile, you recognized it was that dumb necklace.

“Where’d you get that?” You limped over to him quickly. Getting a better look at the gem, you realized your body wasn’t the only thing of yours that was damaged in the events of last night. The moonstone was cracked.

“It was dangling out of your bag.” He shrugged. You attempted to snatch the jewelry out of his hand, he was quick and darted his hand back. “I just want to know why you brought it along?”

“I didn’t.” You lied. “It was probably just sitting in the bottom of my bag.” Another lie.

“Really? ‘Cause it was right on the top of all your things.” He tilted his head at you.

“Could you just give it back?” You tried to grab it again, you nearly lost your balance doing so, you held onto the doorway for support.

“Tell me why you brought it first.” He chuckled, finding your weak attempts to take it from him amusing.

“Give it back-” You made the mistake of letting go of the doorway completely when you tried to reach out for it again, you lost all balance and your body started heading for the floor.

You were stopped by a large arm wrapping around your waist, causing an extreme amount of pain due to the pressure against your bruised body, but preventing you from getting any more from the wooden floor. You cried out in pain as his arm hooked around you, bringing your back to his chest.

“Shit! Sorry! Did I hurt you? Are you alright?” Fred's voice was full of panic and his eyes widened in fear, worrying that he made your condition worse. Even though the pressure hurt on your body, it was kind of nice. The proximity was kind of nice, you felt almost safe for a second.

Then you had to remind yourself, this was Fred Weasley.

“I’m fine.” You grunted out, turning to face him. His arms still lingered on you, holding the sides of your shoulder. “Can you let go of me?” Fred ripped his hands away from you, muttering another apology.

You stumbled slightly and held onto the railing next to you for stability once you were free from his grasp.

“Here. I’ll let you have it back.” He held the necklace out in front of you. You hesitantly grabbed it from him, waiting for him to dart his hand away again, he didn’t.

The necklace sat tangled in the palm of your hand. You sighed and rubbed your thumb over the splits in the moonstone.

“Maybe my mum might be able to fix it. I can see if she will. She probably can if you want!” He babbled.

“No, no. It’s fine.” You were obviously upset, now Fred felt guilty.

There was a moment of silence, Fred looking at you, you looking at the damaged gem.

“My dad said he’d call your parents once you wake up, so I guess I’ll tell him.” He exited himself from the conversation, moving backwards towards the stairs.

“Yeah.” You nodded, letting him go. He turned and began to walk down.

“Hey.” You stopped him, he turned and looked at you, his brows raised in concern.

“Just because you got me out of there doesn’t mean we’re friends now..or that I don’t hate you anymore.”

“Noted.” Fred gave a tight lipped smile before making his way down the staircase.

You went home within the next hour. Your parents didn’t trust getting you home by apparating because of your condition. So Mr.Weasley let them use their car.

Your parents took you to a muggle hospital for some reason, to get a “proper cast” on.

They never really did trust mending spells for broken bones, especially after what happened to Harry Potter in his second year. No one really knew if Brackium Emendo was an actual spell anyways.

Whatever. The next day you were already getting an abundance of cards.

From Cedric, apologizing that he couldn’t help you and was carried away by the crowd. From Mr. and Mrs.Weasley. Even Ron, Harry, and Hermione sent one, but they were just simple “Get Well Soon!” cards from the store.

The only letter that stuck out to you was from the twins. Hidden inside another small gift box.

You unraveled the ribbon that held the box together, popping off the lid, a small folded piece of paper sat on top.

Bruise cream. Homemade by yours truly! It’ll get rid of those nasty marks! Not completely, but it’ll fade them!

Love, Gred & Forge.

P.S. It won’t turn you into a canary (hopefully).

You let out a breathy laugh at the message. Under the wrapping was a white tube, a piece of painters tape over it and bold letters written with a black marker saying: BRUISE CREAM

Another small piece of paper with instructions came along with it.

You inspected the tube, still not trusting it. They wouldn’t prank you while you were injured like this, right?

The only bad thing could happen is that it doesn’t work and messes your skin up.

You took the risk and squeezed a small amount out, you chose a smaller and less prominent bruise to rub the cream onto.

You did as the instructions said and waited about two minutes before wiping it off, as the instructions stated. And it worked. The bruise was completely gone, no evidence of it ever being there.

The cream worked on your bigger and dark bruises, it didn’t get rid of them entirely, but it made them faint and less noticeable.

The only problem was it didn’t get rid of the soreness from where the bruises were, and it sure as hell couldn’t fix broken bones.

You wished it would, you didn’t know how you would be able to use your quill with a giant cast covering most of your hand.

You’ll figure something out. All you have figured out is that you’ll have this damn thing on for the next six weeks. Great.

You thought about writing a letter back to the twins, thanking them. But you couldn’t write and you hated them, what they did was nice, but you still hated them.

In the living room, the Daily Prophet sat on the small coffee table in front of the couch.

It was already reporting about the attack at the Quidditch World Cup. The Dark Mark in the sky. The muggle family you saw being tortured. Even some about how Harry was left behind and saw it too.

A heavy sigh of exhaustion left your body, you absolutely knew it would be all you'd hear when you went back to school.

And you were not ready for it.

tell me what you thought! :) or ask tba to the taglist!

TAGLIST: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @five-seconds-flat @nal-leo-17 @rhunew @albertdabuttler @weak-aesthetic @whotfskai @m00nymarauder @miaandthediamonds @hpstuff244444 @tarzanathetumblingwarrior @isabellavolere

[darkdemeter]

𝑺𝑰𝑹𝑬𝑵, 𝑩𝑬 𝑩𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑫 𝑻𝑶 𝑴𝑬

COMING IN 2025 (OFFICIAL RELEASE DATE TO BE DETERMINED, ESTIMATED TEASER/RE-RELEASE CHAPTER SOMETIME IN APRIL. DATES AND COLUMN CONTENT IS SUBJECT TO CHANGES)

A COMPLETED SERIES ↳ Siren, Be Bound to Me will become a full and completed series from beginning to end. There are prior projects that I have either temporarily paused or retired for my own personal reasons as well as to make room in order to commit to this series. "SIREN GENESIS" (PROLOGUE) CHAPTERS ↳ A precursor storyline that explores the dangerously sensual and captivating origin of siren!reader and Captain Barnes that has been briefly mentioned/envisioned through SSBTM's finale chapter. Here is a small excerpt from chapter 1's Siren Genesis:

" -- And who exactly are you?

Why, you’re the Siren Queen’s own blood. The spitting image of her every younger scale, the personification of her commanding melody. A Siren Princess of all the seven seas. Next in line to succeed her mantle and carry on the sea’s eternal song. To evilly sustain balance between the world above as below. 

  Sunlight shines in blotted patterns through the watery veil, shimmering like gems found amidst the sunken merchant ships brought to their end in the heat of oceanic combat. And by the fresh state of the wood, still yet to rot in the salted biome and become overtaken by the reefs, pods of siren scavenge the wreckage in search of gifts for you. 

 You have no need exactly for these trinkets, but today is not just any other day. On the setting eve of today, you will finally initiate yourself amongst your kind with your first hunt. At the now turned age of 121, it is tradition that calls for you to make your first and proper kill. To paint your lips with the crimson paint of his blood and to taste it on your tongue, to lust after it. It is time that you claim your first heart of a man. -- "

ORIGINAL CHAPTER 1 RE-RELEASE WITH BONUS CUT CONTENT + SBBTM ASK SUBMISSIONS AND QUESTIONAIRE ↳ Though many readers were pleased with the quality of writing and the storytelling of the first part for Siren, Be Bound To Me -- (reading those comments have kept me strong and have served as kindling to resurface my passion for this project) -- there was additional content cut out due to the belief that readers would lose interest. This content explored some and smaller details of siren lore within the AU, general (almost slice of pirate life) content and as well as more sexual scenes. + Readers can send through ask submissions for the AU. These can be read and featured as more personal fillers and tied loosely to the actual canon storyline, providing a bit more of a personally curated experience for readers. + Inquiries that readers have about the story, the AU itself and anything else related to SBBTM are free and welcomed to ask in a mini questionnaire fashion. RELEASE OF THE OFFICIAL 2 ENDINGS ↳ The previous "finale" was used as a cut off point and was not the intended ending at all. With the opportunity to finally draw out the tale of Siren, Be Bound To Me to its fuller potential as a series, instead of sticking with one canon ending, there will the 2 official endings that readers can choose from depending on their own experience with the story and furthermore, regard as the other being the alternative. These endings were thought about and roughly noted down at the same time. Unable to choose ONE as the finale and to further provide a bit more agency to readers, the choice to have 2 endings became the plan.

"SIREN, BE BOUND TO ME" TAGLIST IS OPEN/TAG IN ADVANCE AVAILABLE!

Below the cut is a bit of a writer's rant. If you're not here for that then feel free to stop reading here. Thank you so much for tuning in with this update! xx

I am still pretty angry with myself about how the story came to its end. It was abrupt, unfinished, and like many of you - it was not the ending that I wanted. Without getting into the deep nit and grit, my mindset had shifted elsewhere quite negatively and thus affected the quality of both the story and the writing. And that is on me. I made the decision to write something of poor quality than what myself -- as both writer and reader -- as well as other readers deserved.

The story felt rushed, messy and all around it did not have the passion behind it. Each chapter became more of a chore as the saying goes and I lost love and passion for the world that I adore. I won't bore you with the whole BTS stuff, but overall and shortly, Siren, Be Bound To Me was a spiritual and altered revival of a fictional pirate story I wanted to write but never finished. So this fic was to I guess heal that sore wound mostly while also providing readers something that they might potentially enjoy. (I honestly never expected the fic to reach 1k notes. Not even 800 notes). But if you go back and read the first chapter, for me I can see so much love put in behind every word. I can see that I wrote it for myself and others just so happened to adore it just like me.

I guess that is the lesson I am learning. That it should really come down first and foremost to the writer's love for the story and how that's the not-so-secret key to it. I always thought that the whole "write with love" shtick was a bit of cheesy advice. However, I have come to realise that it's true. The moment that I lost that love for this fic, the story went downhill even when I tried to keep the passion for it going. In fact, it faded quicker. And then that fucking cop out of an ending happened because I drained myself and I thought: "Shelf it. Forget about it, it's another broken bottle alongside its unfinished parent. Move on."

So I did. I gave myself some time to write other things, the idea of coming back to it at a later time was a distant "eh, maybe" thought and I'm now circling back around. I'm rereading my work for SBBTM, finding the flaws in it's later chapters and finding again what I loved so much about the original one shot. What world I had in mind for it, how much I loved this pirate aesthetic and how much I anticipated the whole reveal and the ending/s. You might have been able to tell from my author notes how differently I felt too.

It became scary to write honestly because I fell deep into the writing for audiences pool. I was no longer allowing myself to express my ideas fully because I was scared with how it would be received. Quickly gonna say: this isn't a dig at readers or anything! This is solely on me because I let myself fall into that pit and shrunk away from the actual material I was working with. I personally feel like I was taming the the explicit themes that the fic was originally representing.

There have been so many times I wanted to delete those chapters. Still do, but for the meantime I think I'll keep them for legacy sake and perhaps to serve as a reminder to myself what it is I'm trying to achieve, what I'm trying to fix and what it looks like when lose my interest, my love and absolute passion.

Alrighty, I believe that is it for my writer's rant.

If you stuck around to read all of that then wow... for real thank you so much x. I rarely allow myself to rant but I think it was necessary in order to wipe the slate clean and move forward with writing for this fic.

[futurebird]

They chewed a hole in the tube connecting their log to the outworld so I took the opportunity to have my husband take a photo of me holding the colony. Fixing the tube now and getting everyone back inside.

I'm really impressed with how they tore up the plastic tube. They have powerful little jaws. I've added a nylon cover and some gap filler. I'm also very happy that they still can't make a dent in the log itself... which would have been a much more annoying issue to resolve. "Foranto" did a great job selecting wood for these nests. These ants are some of the most persistent and they can't do very much at all with the wood. It's just too dense and solid.

All the escaped ants ... what do you think they did? Wander the apartment? Raid the pantry?

Nope. There were about a dozen of them just sitting directly under the log. I guess they want a bigger log now? They have no desire to be far from their home... what with the sugar fountains and conveniently injured insects that fall from the sky.

Basically like when my mom set a boundary for me as a kid and I'd stand just on the other side... feeling the rush of illicit power from being out of bounds.

[zexalmonth]

Zexal Month 2023's coming up! From August 1st to the 31st, we’ll be celebrating our 7th Zexal Month! We're doing a Tarot theme!

All our prompts are based on the 23 Major Arcana! You can follow the written prompts or just draw something based on the actual arcana for the day!

For those who are with us for the first time, we have prompts with some suggestions attached to them. You can focus on characters, concepts or OCs, as long as it’s somehow Zexal related and we'll reblog it if it's tagged with #zexal month 2023. In addition to the daily prompts, we have a list of alternate prompts at the end of the list! We hope you have fun with it.

Week 1: Welcome to the Kingdom

1st: The Fool upright | Beginnings, innocence, spontaneity, a free spirit The king calls you all to introduce yourselves. Hello, fools! Who are you and how did you get into Zexal? 2nd: The Magician upright | Manifestation, resourcefulness, power, inspired action Duel monsters are the manifestation of the soul, so show us your favourite duel monster or card! Alternatively, show us your favourite Numbers Card! 3rd: The High Priestess upright | Intuition, sacred knowledge, the subconscious mind Music can do miraculous things to the subconscious mind. You can make something based on the soundtrack or themes/motifs you like. As a challenge, put on one of the Zexal soundtracks and try to make something before the song ends! Show it to us! 4th: The Empress upright | Femininity, beauty, nature, nurturing, abundance The empress summons you to talk about someone you truly care for. What makes your favourite character your favourite? If you have an OC, feel free to talk about them! Also, we love women, so if you want, show some female characters appreciation!

Week 2: Secrets of the Royal Court

7th- The Emperor upright | Authority, establishment, structure, a father figure All hail the barian emperors! Show us a piece about our favourite alien warlords and/or Don Thousand. You can also show us a non-barian Character as a Barian or something else Barian-related. Alternatively, an upright emperor also represents a father figure. Kazama? Faker? Tron? An OC or self-insert? Show us daddy issues something inspired by them! 8th- The Hierophant reversed | Personal beliefs, freedom, challenging the status quo The reversed hierophant means freedom and non-uniformity, so it’s dress up day! Put a Zexal character (or OC) in a new set of clothes they would/wouldn’t wear! Historically accurate clothes for Barians’ past lives? Mini skirt IV? Droite in her wrestler attire? Astral in a tutu? Just show us fashion!  9th- The Lovers upright | Love, harmony, relationships, values alignment, choices Time to spread the love! OTPs? OT3s? BROTPs? Character x Reader? Character x OC? The lovers card is all about ‘belonging’. What relationships do these characters have?    Draw us your ships, friendships or your favourite group of characters (Number’s Club, Sanyuushi, Arclights etc.) enjoying each others’ company. You can also show us the families of your favourite characters and create relatives for them if you prefer.  10th- The Chariot reversed | Self-discipline, opposition, lack of direction Sure, we have a “plot” but Zexal has lots of filler episodes and fun, zany detours! Show what sort of sports or hobbies the characters would get involved with in their spare time. 11th- Justice upright | Justice, fairness, truth, cause and effect, law Time to put a Zexal character on trial! What crimes are they charged for? What is the verdict? What is the punishment?  Feel free to get silly with this (Phoenix Wright, anyone?) or be as grim/morbid as you like. Will Vector finally pay for his transgressions? Up to you!

Week 3: Into the Woods

14th- The Hermit upright | Soul-searching, introspection, being alone, inner guidance As you are banished into the woods for your hot takes, you’re able to reflect on a long-forgotten friend. Make something based on your favourite obscure or minor character. Give those one-shot duelists some love! 15th- The Wheel of Fortune upright | Good luck, life cycles, destiny, a turning point Let’s just put your favorite characters on a game show. Can you imagine a Family Feud with Arclights vs Tenjos? Does anyone get lucky?  What sort of entertainment (outside of card games) do you think you’d see in Heartland City? 16th- Strength upright | Strength, courage, persuasion, influence, compassion Fight! Fight! Fight! In a contest of pure strength, who would win? Who do you NOT want to face in hand-to-hand combat. Who would you duel? If you want to keep yourself out of the fight, show two characters in a fight/duel! Bonus points if they haven’t canonically fought before.  17th- The Hanged Man upright | Pause, surrender, letting go, new perspectives A change of perspective! Is there any character you didn't like at the start, but ended up loving, or vice versa? Who is it and why?  Alternatively, what relationships do you wish we saw? What interactions did Zexal deprive us from? 18th- Temperance upright | Balance, moderation, patience, purpose Sometimes, your friends get on your nerves and you have to be patient with them. But it’s really hard when they’re mostly middle schoolers. How do you think characters would spend a Boys/Girls’ Night Out? What about a slumber party instead?

Week 4: Exile

21st- The Devil reversed | Releasing limiting beliefs, exploring dark thoughts, detachment Show us your villains or your favourite character(s) as a villain. Does their deck change as well? 22nd- The Tower upright | Sudden change, upheaval, chaos, revelation, awakening Show us your favourite punching bag hurting emotionally (whether from a death, tragedy, breakup or something else), in physical agony, or just having a good cry. Zexal is no stranger to angst, after all (we got how many death montages at the end of the series?).  If there are triggers or graphic themes/visuals, remember to tag them! 23rd- The Moon reversed | Release of fear, repressed emotion, inner confusion Some parts of Zexal were confusing and some plot points were forgotten. What do you wish you could have seen MORE of? Alternatively, is there something you didn’t like in Zexal? What and why? Show us what you would have preferred/thought was interesting! Explore a scenario that could have drastically altered Zexal. e.g. What if Kaito died of space cancer at the end of season 1? 24th- The Star upright | Hope, faith, purpose, renewal, spirituality Let’s change the tone of this week. Zexal is full of mythology and spirituality. Show us some of your favourite themes/lore in the show!   25th- The Sun upright | Positivity, fun, warmth, success, vitality The sun represents warm feelings as much as it represents treasure/wealth. Give your favourite character a cursed weapon or treasure. How do they react? What do they do with it? If you want a challenge, grab an image of Yuma’s room and pick a treasure/object. Draw it and/or give it a story. III definitely would love to hear you talk about it! 

Week 5: Court of the Dead

28th- Death upright | Endings, change, transformation, transition How’s the future for Zexal characters? Show us what you think a Zexal character (or several) are doing post-series or how they look when they grow up? 29th- Judgement upright | Judgement, rebirth, inner calling, absolution Zexal ended a long time ago but it’s time to give it a bit of new life. It’s crossover day! How would a Zexal character look/act in the world of the fandom you're into now (or vice versa)? 30th- The World upright | Completion, integration, accomplishment, travel Scenery appreciation! (Tell us what’s your favorite location in Zexal). Alternatively, show us a location where the Zexal characters you like would go on vacation or for an adventure. 31st-  The Deck Summarise your Zexal Month 2023! What did you like? What didn’t you like? Any shout-outs you want to give?  

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

Alternate prompts

As per usual, alternate prompts are meant for ANY day and you can do as many or as few alternate prompts as you like. I can’t stop you if you want to do prompt 10) thirty-one times during Zexal month. 

Holding back/recklessness

Manipulation/poor planning

Dreams/delusions

Age-swap/younger days

Insecurities 

Parallel worlds / Fused world

“But there is only one bed…”

“Can you explain why I have to bail you guys out of jail AGAIN?”

A heist!

Middle school/High school AU

Lunchtime shenanigans

Fantasy/Fairytale AU

Hygge: A very strong feeling of cosiness, of a special moment, alone or with friends, where you feel utterly content, secure, reassured, comforted, and even kinship if you’re among loved ones. 

Verschlimmbessern: To fix something but only make it worse

Backpfeifengesicht: A face badly in need of a fist.

Body Swap/Soul swap

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

As usual, feel free to do whichever prompts you like in whatever order you want. These prompts are a guideline, rather than a hard rule, and you can make art, write fanfiction, make amvs/animatics or just talk about it! Just do what you can manage! No need to do all of them if you don’t want to.

Also, we have a new mod on the team to join me and Iris. Welcome mod Fla!

We can't wait for this August to see what you share with the fandom! Please share this around and spread the Zexal love!

Love Mod Pyra