#i cannot express how much this means to me

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Summer (Cregan Stark x Reader)

A/N: I can finally wrap up my romcom! Big romantic gesture ahead. Check the masterlist of this series here, if you are new. And to my lovely, lovely readers, thank you for staying wityh me during this madness.

Warnings: My anxious introverted reader being anxious (Shocker) Cregan has self-doubts. Mature language.

YOU ARE HAVING a terrible day. It surprises you because that doesn’t happen as often any longer. Today, you would rather not talk to anyone, much less Cregan, whose hovering would only serve to make you more anxious. Today, you want to crawl under the covers with your comfort book and pretend to be dead. 

Yet, you cannot. Because you can’t find the damn book anywhere. You are sure the compilation of histories of Old Valyria Daemon had given you has to be in your rooms.

You have pulled open all your desk’s drawers, checked the bedside table twice, checked the bed, even beneath it. Not even your chest with linens was spared. It’s nowhere. 

With little choices left, you have begun searching the nursery too, but haven’t quite mastered the courage to search Cregan’s solar. You remember taking the book alongside you to read as you kept him company sometimes, but do not recall leaving it there. 

You feel torn. Cregan and you are getting along now, but you still hesitate going to him with your troubles. Not only you had leftover guilt even though you have both chosen to move on from your rivalry, you also prided yourself on being independent. 

Asking him or anyone for help always makes you feel uncomfortable. You didn’t want others to perceive you as weak. 

Stop. You are being silly, you tell yourself. It’s not like you are about to ask him to solve your life, you only will inquire if he has seen your book. 

Still. What if he thinks less of you for being careless with your things? Or if he thinks you are being overly sentimental to get this worked up over a book? 

Worse, what if he thinks you are accusing him of stealing? 

You let out a groan. You are overthinking. Your bad days often include a lot of anxiety, and today it is a bad day. A terrible one, that will be worse if you don’t find your beloved book. Determined, you march to Cregan’s solar and knock on his door. 

“Aye?” He calls out, northern accent on full display, and you can’t help that your knees get a little weak.

“Cregan? May I come in?” Suddenly, your bravery and determination have deserted you. Your voice comes out squeaky as a mouse. By the Fourteen Flames, to love is to be humbled, it seems. 

“You always may, wife.” You wince at being addressed as such. You suppose it’s a good thing he isn’t calling you by your full title any longer. 

Pushing open the door, you step inside. Cregan is seated on his desk, a frown on his face. He is squinting at some maps, in the way he sometimes does. His frown softens when he sees you, standing on the door. 

“I enjoy how my colors look on you.” Cregan rumbles, a pleased smile forming on his face. Today, you are wearing one of the warmest dresses you own, in a pale gray. It’s made of velvet, and you enjoy how it feels over your skin. You had commissioned it after you arrived at Winterfell, using the generous pocket money that Cregan allowed you. 

You had to give it to the man. No matter how annoying you had been at first, he had never been tight-fisted with your allowance. 

“Thank you.” You feel your cheeks heating up, and fight the urge to fan your face. What you don’t manage to fight is the urge to preen under his gaze. 

Cregan chuckles. You narrow your eyes at him. Is he mocking you? He lifts his hands in surrender, attuned as he is to your moods. 

“Apologies. It’s cute, that’s all.” 

“The dress?” 

“You.” And it’s said with such disarming honesty, you do not know what to say. You search his face, yet his expression is so open, so fond, no hint of mockery can be found. It’s…  Cregan must be thinking of her, for sure. That expression doesn’t mean anything. “What were you here for?”

You clear your throat. 

“Um. I was… I lost my book.” 

“What book?” Cregan asks, shifting his maps aside. He is clearing his desk, you realize. “The one about the conquest?” 

“No, not that one.” Your voice turns shyer still. Secretly, it pleases you that he remembers what you had been reading last week. “It has a brown leather cover and the title is in gold.” 

“The one in High Valyrian?” And his tone is casual. Far too casual. You begin to worry that your book might have met its end. You look him in the eyes, but find little there. Cregan has an impeccable blank face. He gives nothing away. “Check the selves. Maybe it is there.” 

You turn around and begin doing so. But the more titles you check, the more nervous you become. Cregan is an organized man, his books are carefully separated by subject. The servants know to keep to his order, when he rarely leaves them lying around. 

Your book would stand out. You know it. A tight knot of anxiety begins to settle on your stomach. As you reach the lower shelves, you feel tears gathering in your lash line. You cannot believe you are about to cry over a book. 

Cregan will never love you. He will go right back into thinking you are some soft southron, with no spine. No one cries over books. He will think you are ridiculous. 

Despite your back being to him, he seems to sense something is wrong.

“Love? Is everything alright?” 

“I cannot find it.” You whine, losing your battle with the tears. “My book. It’s really important that I find it.” 

You hear him get up, and walk closer to you. He hugs you from behind, holding you to him. 

“Shh… I know. I have been unkind to you.” You are confused about his words, but not enough that you reject the comfort of his embrace. Cregan is warm against your back, and smells faintly of parchment and leather. There is something herbal clinging to his skin, too. His smell and his size make you feel safe. He is tall enough that his form covers yours completely.“I took your book.” 

You flinch. Your hackles begin to rise. Your sadness leaves, clouded by absolute wrath.  

“What?” 

“I wanted to gift you something. It’s being copied by the Maester as we speak. I wanted it to be a surprise, I know how much you love it.” He nuzzles your neck, and it pacifies you slightly. The prospect of a gift entices you, especially if it is a copy of your favorite book. Perhaps Cregan will have it nicely bound.  “I regret it now. Knowing how much you love it, I should have known it would upset you.”

“I wanted to read it today.” You complain, still sad. It has been an awful day for you. “I do not feel so well.” 

“Of course, sweetling.” Cregan drops a kiss to your crown. “I’ll have it delivered to you. Would you mind lending it to me tomorrow? You can recall it anytime during the day if you need it, like now.” 

“Alright.” You whisper, softly. Cregan gathers you in his arms again, and moves the two of you to the loveseat. There, he settles you in his lap. He takes of his cloak and drapes it over you. This way, you are fully surrounded by his warmth and smell.

He calls a servant. True to his word, the book is back in your hands in less than half an hour. You spend the rest of the afternoon reading in his lap. 

Suddenly, your bad day doesn’t seem so bad. 

WHEN HE FEELS like an inconsiderate brute, Cregan tries to think happier thoughts. While grief and self-doubt do not chase him as much as they chase you, he is still a widower with a wife who despised him at first. 

Often, gazing upon Rickon or you is enough to help him feel more settled. More at peace with himself. His son is well adapted enough, he reasons, as he sees him run around the courtyard. You do not despise him, he thinks, as you curl by his side. 

Today, neither is working. Rickon and you are together, a picture that normally would serve to pull him out from his brooding. Of course, since Rickon is on the floor wailing, it isn’t quite working. 

Cregan has a headache. The pain is spreading from his jaw, towards his cheekbones, and from there turning into sharp icicles that feel like they are being stabbed in his skull. 

The day has been long. He had ridden out at dawn to deal with some wildings near Wintertown, and then had to answer his correspondence. The dammed Greens would not stop pestering him to switch sides and hand you over, alternating between threats and flattery. 

As if the Starks were some miserable turncloaks who betrayed their oaths. As if Cregan would just hand over his wife to some usurping cunts. 

The nerve of those Hightowers knew no bounds. What was next? Demanding a Sept be built in Wintertown for those false gods of theirs? 

And if that wasn’t enough to make his day terrible, during the afternoon Cregan had received an outraged Sara. Apparently, for some unknown reason, she had received an offer to become Lady Cerwin And for another unknown reason, it was the most terrible fate. Ever. 

Rickon keeps screaming. He has been that way for a while. Cregan had been alone with him, watching him play on the rug with his blocks, when he had started crying and wouldn’t stop. 

Cregan had tried picking him up, rocking him, walking him back and forth, but nothing helped. One of the servants must have heard and alerted you because you had appeared looking disgruntled.

You had been in the middle of your quiet time, as Cregan enjoyed calling it. Awkward Princesses who hated socializing needed time to recover from hearing petitions during the day. He had realized so when he started teaching you to pass judgement. 

As the time for Cregan to march south to defend your mother’s claim became more imminent, he was giving you more and more responsibilities in Winterfell. That way, you would be prepared to hold the North when he left. Prepared to protect his Kingdom and his son. 

“Tower! Tower!” Rickon wails, as you pick him. Your face is as tired a Cregan feels. His head is heavy. He cannot stand Rickon screaming any longer. By the gods, Cregan is a terrible father. He cannot even calm his son when he needs him. After his many attempts to calm him down were unsuccessful, he had just set him down. 

“What’s the matter, sweet boy?” You ask, holding Rickon close to your heart. Rickon continues to cry. You meet Cregan’s eyes over his son’s head. 

Cregan shrugs. He is unsure of what triggered the tantrum. 

“Shh, all is well. I get overwhelmed too, sometimes.” You say, and Cregan gets the feeling you are talking to him and not to Rickon. “But we can’t rebuild your tower if you are getting all wiggly.”  

This is about the building blocks, Cregan realizes. He feels like a terrible father. A failure. 

Bennard’s words come to mind once more. How can you govern the North if you can’t govern yourself? You failed.

Your swordsmanship is poor, and you still are a pup crying for your parents. You cannot rule. 

He had heard a variation of those words for years, every time he had tried to push his claim. And look, Cregan knows he is not a poor swordsman, and he has tried his best to rule. Men don’t cry, but he does it occasionally. Rarely. His tears never dry out, no matter how old he grows, but it is the only thing of Bennard’s words that came true. That isn’t so bad, is it? 

You have settled on the floor, Rickon on your lap. He still cries, but he has stopped shrieking. You have started building a tower on your own. 

“I think I will place my princess here. And a dragon here.” You explain, as if you are building some great castle. Rickon stares, transfixed by you. Cregan understands the feeling all too well. He remembers the weight of you in his lap, the warmth of your skin against him, your smell. He has been unable to get the memory out of his mind in days. 

It would be pleasant, a session of cuddling with his wife, were it not for the circumstances that lead up to it. All Cregan’s fault. 

“A shame you want to keep crying and won’t help. I suppose I shall have to ask your father to play with me.” Your eyes are coy. You give Cregan a glance, and his lips form a smile despite himself. Of course you would try bribery. 

Of course, it works. Rickon picks up the first block, still sniffling. 

“No! Father isn't a Princess. You are!” 

“You are right, Rickon.” You agree, as if it were the most natural thing. “Silly me. He is a wolf. We should build him a Wolfswood.” 

And so, Rickon forgets his tantrum, settled by your gentle touch and encouraging words. And Cregan’s heart soars. 

“MILADY, LORD STARK wishes for your company.” One of the serving girls says, eyes downcasted. You pause in your perusal of the granary, making a quick note on your ledger. As the Lady of Winterfell, it falls to you to ensure the castle has supplies enough for winter, or so Cregan says. You find the Northern’s obsession with the season a bit much, but considering little grows here, you too would feel better knowing you have enough grain if something happens. 

“Right now?” Considering he had been the one to send you on this errand, it confuses you a little. He must have known taking stock of the granary would take you all day. 

“As soon as you can come. It’s not urgent, but he wishes to see you soon.” 

You feel nerves creep up on you. Cregan never summons you. When he wants your company, he simply appears near you or waits for a meal to invite you to spend time with him. 

You can’t help it. War and grief had frayed your nerves. These days, you feel like everything could be a sign of bad news. 

It’s not urgent, you repeat to yourself. It’s not urgent, it’s not urgent, you chant in your head, but your steps towards the inside of Winterfell are hurried. 

The castle is unusually quiet. The maid guides you to one of the unused wings of the castle, one near Cregan’s rooms. You have never asked, but you know these were the rooms his uncle used to inhabit when trying to usurp him. The man had never dared taking the lord’s rooms from Cregan, lingering near instead, a feeling you understand too well. 

Your husband is a formidable man. You wouldn’t want to cross him, either. 

The serving girl hesitates when the two of you reach a big oaken door. 

“What is it?” You ask her, with a frown. “Why do you linger?”

She doesn’t answer. She simply shoots you a shy smile. Annoyed at her shyness, you push the door open yourself. Your breath catches. 

When you step inside, it is as if you are stepping inside your storybook. The walls are covered with tapestries depicting some of the prettier illustrations, priestesses wearing amethysts, dragons of shining ivory, lovers holding hands. 

The room is decorated in understated creams and golds, the furniture made of the finest woods. Despite the themes of the decoration, it is clearly meant to be a Lady’s solar, even if not attached to your rooms. 

There is a soft, woven carpet that cushions your every step. It is made of pure white fur, to combine tastefully with the rest of the decoration. You can already tell it will feel like heaven on your bare feet, even through your boots. It must have cost a fortune. 

Near two, giant windows, a low table sits. It holds a vase very familiar to you, shaped in the form of a dragon. It is filled with winter roses, though you had seen it before in Dragonstone, full of your mother’s favorite flowers. 

There is a fireplace, as it is customary in almost all the rooms in Winterfell. On its mantle, small toys and mementos from your childhood sit. Near the fireplace, a small sitting area awaits, with comfortable looking armchairs and loveseats, and a low table in which a tea set, painted with Valyrian motives, rests. 

There is a desk in a corner, much bigger than yours, and a small bookshelf, that resembles the layout Cregan has in his own solar. It has sparse books, but all of them are in High Valyrian. Your favorite book has a place of honor, right in the middle of the highest shelf. 

Yet, the true star of the room lies on the back of it. There is a huge round table, like the one from your stories, made of sturdy wood, that resembles the one from the war room from Dragonstone. Not only are the Seven Kingdoms featured, but also Essos, Sothoryos, the Summer Islands and even Great Moraq. Cregan is in the middle of lighting the table, struggling with how one is supposed to do it. 

“How..?” You babble, astonished. To assemble this… You understand now why he had needed your book so many times. The time and care put into building this room, so delightfully whimsical yet honoring your culture at the same time… Your eyes prickle with tears. 

“We can send it back.” Cregan says, alarmed by your tears. “If you…” 

“No!” You say, with an energy that surprises you. You take the candles from his hands and begin lighting the table the proper way. “This is… My home. And my book.”

Cregan’s face is uncharacteristically unsure.

"I hoped it would remind you of where you came from. Of whom you are. A Princess of Dragonstone. My Princess.” 

“You did this… for me?” Your hands tremble as you set the table alight. All the known world, on display for you. In a war table. It is only then that it registers.  

Cregan is willing to go to war for you. Kill in your name. Lay the whole world at your feet.  You have to grip the back of one of the chairs as to not fall down, knees weak. 

“I know you are far from home. And I haven’t… We haven’t always been on the best terms, but you never shied away from your duties. I wanted to give you something that was about you.” 

“I never thought you saw me.” You whisper. “I… I owe you an apology. For everything. For insulting you, when I arrived, for speaking of Lady Arra, for… For not seeing you either, at first.” 

You have been blind, you realize, as you look at your book come to life in this room. The man who had given it to you had shown you that one could form a family with a widow and cherish their sons as if they were your own.

Daemon wasn't a kind man, but he was loyal to family. You were far kinder. If he could do it, and be happy, so could you.

“There is no need to apologize to me.” Cregan gathers you in his arms, and presses a kiss to your lips. His own are chapped from the cold, yet the only thing you feel is his warmth. And for two people as different as winter and summer, you find that your bodies do understand each other. 

It takes Cregan but a week to convince you after that. The first letter you write in your new desk begins as it follows: 

“Dear Jacaerys, I want you to know that I am completely, perfectly, incandescently happy…”

[yey56]

HARLEY SAWYER X PSYCHOLOGIST READER pt2.

That day wasn't something you could easily forget. It started as any other day, after the moment you had with the doctor, he received a call from the office of Elliot Ludwig, claiming there was an important matter to discuss. He left not without savoring once more your lips.

That day, while you were conversing and trying to help process the changes to a little girl now turned into a toy, one of the other phycologist, Martha Hendswort, one of the few friends you had there; told you that Elliot was expecting you in his office.

You didn't exactly despised Elliot, unlike Harley who took the man for a rotten idealist, you though of him a wise man who was far to kind for his own good. Someone who learned to put the foot down when it was already to late...

Once you arrived there, the man awaited for you seated in his chair, looking at a photograph on top of his desk, his mind wandering somewhere you couldn't see.

Finally noticing your presence, he gave you an apologetic smile. Nothing good could come from that look that was silently apologising for something he hadn't even said yet.

You greeted him as usual, with a light hearted manner. Jokingly sucking up with him-you look good Eliot! New glasses?- you said while he spared you a little smile.

He finally took a more serious stance and started the conversation- (Y/N), as I've said to Harley before, both of you together have reached great progress with your projects...-he paused looking at you trying to find a way to deliver the blow delicately- You both have achieved great things and the company is grateful for that... But, I cannot longer ignore your lack of boundaries regarding the... Subjects of your experiments.- he looked at you again.

So... This is about me and Harleys methods, I'm sure we can get to some kind of middle groun- Ludwig suddenly interrupted you- No, I don't mean that. I've talk about this with him as well. I don't think you should be directing the experiments no longer. This experiments should not be made in name of progress but in name of humanity, and I think that's something you have forgotten- he finally finished.

You felt a shiver go down your spine- What?- you whispered forrowign your brows- do you have any idea how much we- How much I have invested in this project-in -in those children?!- you tone was still moderately calm, but getting more threatening.

Harley lacks the humanity needed for this project-his tone still calm, trying to soothe your anger- unlike him, you do have that trait but you have chosen to ignore it in favour of your own curiosity, your own agenda.-he expressed severely- you are a brilliant psychologist, the best one I have in here and working with you has been enlightening from all points of view but I cannot keep ignoring your recklessness...-he finalised.

You looked at him, without talking, still half processing what he just told you- so you're firing me? After all the time I've invested here?- you said, resentment was starting to get more noticing in your voice.

No! Of course not, neither you or Sawyer are fired, just... Relocated.- he explained- I've assigned sawyer to Dr whites lab and you... Well I think it would be great if you could work in the innovation department, under Pierre's direction...-your eyes didn't leave his- You're asking me to quit the career I've been building for the past 11 years to work under that lousy coward?- you asked in reference to the nervous nature Pierre seemed to have since you once accidentally sacred him while being in the corner of a dark place.

You are great at innovation, I know you talk frequently with the design department and your adaptable nature will be very helpful there.- Ludwig, observing that you still weren't really on board with this said- look, I don't expect you to understand right now but at least give it a try. I've never known you for saying no to a challenge. I will ask Pierre not to be so restrictive with you.- his attempt to cheer you up where useless

You only raised from the chair and proceeded to get out of his office. You knew you weren't going to quit because that would mean you turning into one of them.

You kept walking through seemingly infinite corridors, tightening your fists to the point your knuckles were turning white.

You arrived to your office in the lower levels and started to take out certain objects you knew you would need with you for your relocation. You had on top of your desk the file of 1322-Doey and in one of your open drawers, a photo with you in the kindergarten area with the kids that now composed the toy.

With the box with your belongings in hand you started walking towards Harleys office, at lest to notify him about your new place of work. Before you could get to the next corridor, three voices stopped you. You couldn't hear much since they where inside one of the labs of that area but you could make out Leith's voice, saying something about getting rid of someone.

You are well aware of what "taking care" of someone meant here. You had suggested it a couple of times with unloyal stuff but something about the timing of the conversation seemed off.

Before you could get aways from that area again, you felt something hitting your head and the only thing that could be heard in that hall was the crash of your belonging against the floor.

————————————————————————

[Tape recording: The doctor]

[Dr white]: Oh, it looks like he's waking up

{The doctor}: where am I, what... Is this?... Oh no they didn't, those backstabbing traitors

[Dr white]: Dr Sawyer? can you hear me?

{The doctor}: White?! White is that you?! Who else is there with you?

{The doctor}: You enjoying watching me writhe like on of them- *Groan in pain*-my head feels like it's splitting in two *groan*- This is wrong, you must have done something wrong.

[Dr white]: Some disorientation is to be expected it'll-

{The doctor}: Who gave you the order? You spineless cowards, after all I've done for this project, for this company-

(Lith Pierre): I gave the order, Sawyer

{The doctor}: Leith Pierre... of course it'd be you, YOU have no idea what kind of mistake you've just made.

(Leith Pierre): Really? From where I'm sitting, you're the one who keeps making mistakes that need fixing. You and (Y/N) were warned.

(Leith Pierre): We gave you both so many opportunities to clean up your messes, but you just couldn't do it could you?

{The doctor}:What, do you think YOU can do better?? Nobody else can do what I do. You need my knowledge, my intellect!! You need (Y/N) and they will not collaborate!!

(Leith Pierre): Why do you think you're sitting in there right now, and not in Boxy's stomach? Let me tell you how this is gonna go, Sawyer. From now on you're here to give the lab boys answer when they need them and carry out procedures when and how we tell you to. That's it

(Leith Pierre): You'll be an open book to us whenever we want. So fight or have in, or whatever because either way we own the infrastructure you're wired into. Here's your first task, find us Dr (Y/N) (Y/L/N) so they can join you.

{The doctor}: You'll die for this Leith. When I get my hands on you you're a dead man!!!

(Leith Pierre): This temper is a bad look on you Harley!

[Tape Ended: The doctor.]

————————————————————————

[Tape recording: the escape]

(Y/N): What?- Where?-

Dr 1: are they- no I can't be- they're waking up *mumbling*

Dr 2: it cannot be!- increment the dosis!

(Y/N): what... Are you-? What do you think you are-? *Groans*

Dr 1: don't move- restrict them!!

(commotion sounds)

Dr 1: wait! Dont!- (static)

(Crashing sounds)

(Screams)

(Y/N):*groans* so... This is what you were trying to do... To me?

Dr 2:*coughing* Lab 19... Dr/Dra (Y/L/N) is *coughing* awak-

(Gunshot)

Leith :* through the phone* Dr? Dr?!-

(Static)

[Tape recording: the escape]

————————————————————————

You felt cold with the operation robe you had on, a harsh contrast with the warm blood that was scattered over your upper torso after stabbing one of the doctors with a scalpel.

Your ears ringed. After quickly taking the gun off the scientist body you aimed at the other one who was calling who you supposed was Pierre.

You shot him before he could end his message. You took the documents they had half completed on the desk: Experiment 1812- (Y/N) (Y/L/N)

You broke the papers with disdain. You though of Harley, were they doing the same to him? I wouldn't be so unusual to think that Pierre might have done it.

You then remembered that Leith must have sent someone to neutralise you, so hurrying you went out of the operation room, gun in hand to the control room. Sawyer Leith and Ludwig were the only ones with a key but Harley had made you s copy without the other two knowing. Of course, that copy was confiscated from you when you were left unconscious.

Once you got to the control room, you started noticing the cold on your bare feet, the blood dripping from your clothes and the rushed footsteps that seemed to be getting closer each second.

You punched the door in the handle repeatedly in desperation to get in. And just before you could see Leith rushing to you at the end of the corridor, the door automatically opened on its own.

It immediately closed right after you and the sound of the mechanical lock echoed in the room, all of this followed by Pierre's hits on the door.

You ignored it, concentrating on the several cameras that formed the room. Complete access to he enclosures of the experiments.

1160-Boxy boo, 1163- Pianosaurus, 1166- Yarnaby, 1170- Huggy Wuggy, 1188-Catnap, 1222- Mommy long legs... To mention some of them.

In desperation, Pierre started shouting, already imagining what you would do in your anger.

(Y/N)!! Stop this. You are not thinking straight! They will kill you, all of us!!!- he said completely desperate, banging the door even harder.

You were always aware that why's you did was not good, neither moral, neither human.

You understood their pain, specially their anger, you would be angry to in their place. Now you needed that anger, you needed that anger against, Pierre and all of Playtime Co.

Even if you would be affected in the process, right now you don't care what might happen to you, you only care of what will happen to Pierre.

You pressed the bottom with no hesitation, the red lights illuminating the whole compound. You could hear Leith's shouts of desperation- WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!!!- WHAT HAVE YOU D- his voice sounded like murmurs, likely because of the effect of the anesthesia inside you.

Actions have consequences Leith, sooner or later both you and I were going to face them, I just accelerated the process.- you said with a mocking tone that brushed insanity-Im just helping you learn how to take responsibility for your actions.-you finished with a harsh tone in your voice.

While this was happening, the monitors in your back started to flash images of a single eye surrounded by static.

————————————————————————

Harley had observed through the cameras that now were part of his system how you escaped the operation room leaving two corpses behind. The moment Leith left the room his monitor was in to go and stop you he started taking over the system.

He wanted to make you know what had happened to him, that he hadn't manage to escape and was now trapped there.

He opened the door to you once he catches on what you were trying to do and he tried to comunicate with you through the monitors in the room. You seem so angry and so full of adrenaline that you didn't notice how he couldn't even voice a though thought the speakers.

Once Leith had escaped the corridor, hoping to save himself he saw you sprinting out of the room to a direction that was to familiar for him. The enclosure of 1322 or like you liked to call them: Kevin, Jack and Mathew.

He knew how much you insisted in refering the experiments as there original names. You used to say that it helped them to stablish trust with you and he still insisted in naming them after their assigned numbers.

You arrived at the enclosure of the doe mass, while he tried to figure out how to control more of the systems so he could reach you.

Get out, come on- you said to Doey who looked at you as if you were the sunlight.- but- but what's happening, why is there so much noise?- he asked afraid- I freed them, all of them, come on, here is no longer safe- you said rushing him and sparring him the details of your actions.

But the doctor!- the bad people they are going to hurt us- to starve us- he started having a meltdown- I don't know where Harley is but with the chaos that has ensued out there we can still hide somewhere they won't find us. Quick!- you were trying to rush the toy to the exit. You remembered that Harley mentioned you that there were building more floors deeper and deeper but they were still very much isolated from the rest of the factories system.

You guided the toy through the stairs and the chaos and while you were waiting for him to open a door from the other side you took the opportunity to search in on of the st computers near by the information about Harley. You tried cameras, reports and all kind of stuff but you couldn't find nothing recent.

Harley didn't have access to the computer you were using. Growing more and more desperate he could feel himself getting overloaded until one of the nearby cable started igniting.

Doey quickly wrapped you around him and started running without a clear direction while the whole placed burned, dragging you both deep enough to not be found for a while.

————————————————————————

Harley was beyond furious, he was frustrated, defeated. Backstabbed by his coworkers and confined into a screen.

When the prototype found him, he didn't face him with fear, he was well aware that he was useful for him and only for that, the prototype would keep him alive. But he also knew that it was a means to an end. The prototype needed the doctor for his abilities and intellect but the doctor knew that for the prototypes plan to actually work they needed you.

You had made sure to establish a relationship of trust and even some kind of bond between you and the toys. With some of them more genuine than the other. He never understood that, and for a long time he mistook it for simple compassion but the explanation you gave him actually made sense.

Why do you insist on bonding with those... Creatures, hmmm?- he asked you with his hand on the bridge of his nose and his glasses in the table.- are you aware what you are doing to them?

You laughed silently while eating a piece of sandwich.- do you realise that those experiments are incubators of anger and resentment right? They are essentially human, humans reaped from their bodies.-you took a bite- that plus the abuse they endure from the guards only births anger, anger that is eventually going to explode in our faces.- he looked at you curiously.

You continued after he nodded, agreeing with you- By letting them know I empathise with them, which I do by the way, I'm basically letting them know I'm not much of an enemy but more of a shoulder to cry on. You understand?- your reasoning was calculated and based on assuming the worst but after all, you were right.

The experiments who experimented intelligence were not happy with the stuff at Playtime co and that was no secret. He finally understood what was your strategy. A point of view he had never seen before but one that made sense nonetheless.

That how Harley understood that in order to control the whole place and assure the prototypes plan they needed you. That way he could have a valid excuse to give to the prototype for wanting to reach you and have you with him. That way you weren't perceived as his weakness and you could stay alive out of usefulness.

But he was going to find you, one way or another, sooner or later. He wasn't know for being a patient man but he could wait. He just needed time and nothing more. Just time.

————————————————————————

Doey finally put you down on the floor and you both stopped, catching a moment to breath.

You were in some sort of underground sewer, you didn't know were it would take you but as long as you were not in the upper levels with the rest of the free toys, you were safe for now.

Hey kid, how are you going?- you asked Doey who was starring at the ceiling, hearing the vague screams that could miraculously reach the underground.

Those screams are of...- he started, not calm enough to finish- (Y/N)... What have you done?.- you leaned against a wall, still dizzy from the remaining anesthesia in your body- what?- you asked, not expecting this reaction- those screams!! They are from people, the toys are eating them!! Why did you do this.

You paused a moment, not knowing what to respond- I got fed up- you weren't exactly lying on that answer- I'm making it up for my actions, I was an accomplice in captivating you, now I'm freeing you.- you took a deep breath, trying to clear your mind- look, I understand that you are upse-

NO, YOU DON'T!!!- he screamed- you try but you don't- he started sobbing- you don't hear them, you get to have silence you don't hear the voices, the kind voices that always lie!! Your kind voice won't deceive me- he stared at you, furious.

You got serious, taking a stance and looking him dead in the eye you told him- I'm not a kid voice doey, I'm an honest voice and I made that very clear since the first moment I met you three.- he stayed silent after your statement, pouting, like a child would take after being scolded by their parent.- I will tell you the honest truth, if you can handle it. - you looked at him and proceeded- I don't think it's a good idea that we stick together, Kevin, your obviously angry at me and I won't force you to change that. I'll let you cool it down. Search for me when you are ready.- and with that you turned and leaved, not willing to defy a 400 kg of mass

Doey extended an arm in your way trying to reach you before you would go down another path than him. You were the most similar thing he had to a parent, to a friend down there and he felt lost without your help and guidance.

The toy stayed there, sulking and trying to keep himself at bay.

You wandered through the sewers until you found a way out to a set of underground halls with a few computers to settle in. You stayed there, thinking about what to do next and planing on where could Harley be, if he even was still alive after what you did.

And Harley, well... He was determined to obtain absolute control over the whole facility, upper and lower levels. Searching to find certain germ that had crawled inside of his system, and former heart.

Searching for the direct culprit of the hour of joy...

-Unedited fanfic-

[secriden]

It was so sad to see Style crying like that, but more than that I was initially so shocked? Style has been a ray of sunshine and see him completely break down down like that-my heart stopped for a few seconds! This is the third time we see Style cry (if we didn't count the near-crying throughout this episode cause my gosh he was putting on a brave face in front of Fadel) and I genuinely did not expect to see him cry so much. My heart just broke :(

I think something that really got to me about the context of Style's breakdown is knowing that Style has extensive experience with what it means to have to be "strong" for the sake of someone else. We know his dad broke down / potentially was emotionally and maybe even mentally absent after his mom died ("he lost his bearings for a bit" is vague, but it gives us an idea that it was both fairly severe and also prolonged enough to be concerning), we know that Style had to cope with that when he was "only a kid" and so much of this learned coping can be seen in this episode.

Even while the plan to turn Lily in is in motion, it's Style that ensures the practicalities of Fadel and Bison having fake passports and an idea of how to get out of the country. And it makes so much fucking sense for them not to trust the Captain, who has literally been nothing but shady and unreliable -- like we literally meet him going back on his word by blackmailing Kant with a record he was already supposed to have expunged.

As much as I appreciate Kant having his little revenge blackmail plotline (for the poetry of it all - also, Kant's expression in this scene is <3), it was purely happenstance that he stumbled on it in the first place. Kant didn't even realise that the Captain would be at Babe's school; his surprise when he sees him is a clear indication of that. So Kant's plan, as far as we know, really was to trust in the Captain's reliability (the disbelief, it's SO very suspended).

So I'm really grateful, not only for the good sense Style had to take these precautions, but also how it shows that Style's carefree and seemingly childish demeanour does not preclude him from being serious when something matters to him: Style is thinking, planning, and actively taking steps to ensure that Fadel and Bison somehow maintain their freedom.

And all of this is motivated by something so very simple: Style's love for Fadel is so complete, so fundamental to what he wants for his future, that Style has no reservations with uprooting his entire life, potentially leaving his dad and everything he's ever known, for years, as long as he gets to be with Fadel. The only thing Style is truly afraid of is not having this future. He can stomach anything else, but not an outcome that would deny him being by Fadel's side.

So when it all comes crashing down, when the brothers decide they're going to take the deal and Style is forced to accept Fadel's choice, Style is genuinely upset for himself. Fadel is resigned to this; if anything, as he says himself, 5 years is nothing compared to the life sentence or death he was expecting. But Fadel being on the run would have allowed Style to be with Fadel, while jail means a prolonged separation, and the whole point of all of Style's efforts at the start of the episode was to avoid precisely this outcome.

But Style's love is also inherently selfless. I've been saying this over and over again, and it was so clear to me in episode 7 and 8 that Style will set aside his own feelings, will deny his own immediate wants, if he knows it will benefit the one he loves. The day was never about what Style wanted or even Style's own feelings about missing Fadel. This last day was a gift to Fadel, a chance to make memories which may be all Fadel has to carry him through the next 5 years.

So Style takes one last moment for himself, one moment to allow the agony he feels to bleed through when Fadel cannot see it...

...before he commits himself to being nothing but cheerful and comforting and understanding and supportive to Fadel for the rest of the day. I know it was a small moment, but it broke me the way Style very clearly places his hand under Fadel's. The way he gives Fadel something to hold onto, to anchor himself to, as Fadel tries to find the words to promise Style's dad a future he knows he cannot guarantee. Style's entire fucking thing this episode is a harrowing lesson on putting on a front and being strong for someone else.

Because Fadel wants this so badly. He wants his last day with Style to be a happy one. He wants to take the time to show his affection and care and cling onto the pretence at normalcy, to spend the day being the kind of sweet boyfriend Fadel never really got the chance to be with Style because the last time he did this was when he was lying to Style and he thought Style didn't love him. And Style gives Fadel the relief of being strong enough to bear what Fadel wants; even in the face of Fadel's grave and a rather morbid conversation that fringes on suicidal ideation, Style finds a way to make Fadel smile.

So we get a do-over, a highlight reel of some of their most intense moments of either connection or fracturing, only this time, Fadel gets to be honest about what he feels for Style. He gets to accept Style's love without having to pretend that he doesn't want or need it. He gets to let Style know just how much Style means to him, why Fadel is so grateful that Style came into his life. And Style, selfless and true to his promise gives Fadel everything he needs to get through the day. Gives Fadel exactly what he asked for even if it carved out his own heart in the process.

And oh god, I'm so grateful for this acknowledgement that Fadel knows what is going on. He knows that Style is sad, he knows that Style feels things keenly, that the jokes and the flippant words are a mere coverup. But he also understands that this is how Style both deals with his grief and also that it's being done out of love, and so Fadel allows himself to be grateful and to love Style all the more for it.

And even when Fadel himself breaks, when the tears come at the end of the night, when Fadel has been forced to take Style's promise to remain true to him despite Fadel wanting better for him, Style gives Fadel the dignity of pretending all he's wiping away are the crumbs on his face and not the proof of Fadel's inability to be strong for himself.

Which is why I knew this was coming. I knew that Style could only go so long, could only be so strong, before he would crumble. Because this was the one thing Style didn't want to happen. This was the one fucking thing he asked Fadel for -- that they would get to be together, no matter what the cost was. And oh, he was so brave when he realised it wasn't going to happen, he was so strong even as he has to watch Fadel walk into handcuffs, right until the car disappeared into the darkness; and when Fadel can no longer see him, that's when Style shatters.

Because five years is still too fucking long when your heart's just been taken from you.

[lesbianherald]

so i know you're trying to process Coming Home being the top fic now but bestie are you aware that you hit 30k kudos?

ok. ok ok okok.

As a warning, I'm going to get really weird and personal here.

I got these this morning. Just like with the last one I have no idea what to do with this or how to appropriately deal with it lmao but to everyone who has been so nice - thank you. so much? this is a number so unfathomable to me that I've been trying to sit with it all day and simply cannot process it as real.

I don't want to care about numbers. I want to be super cool and chill and above that. but this is a really big one. and I think it also is really reflective of how big this community has grown. I've decided it would be odd not to acknowledge it.

This is one of the craziest, kindest, most lovely things that has ever happened to me. It feels so incredible and validating to know my work reached some people. That is quite literally all I want to do with my life. And now it feels like I might be able to with my own stuff. But its a lil deeper than that too. All the comments and support have genuinely been such an amazing balm during a really dark time in my life.

At the start, this fic was always a method of escapism for me. I've been under so much pressure in my real life. I'm in a really weird, really competitive transitional point. everything I write irl may make or break the rest of my career. It is a type of pressure I'm incredibly grateful and privileged to have, but still stressful nonetheless.

But then, as i was writing this fic, it became way more of a lifeline. Not to get too personal, and idk if people paid attention to my end notes, but if you did you'll note I fell victim to the ao3 curse last October in a really big way. I lost a dear friend of mine very suddenly.

Starting coming home was a way for me to write something just to write it, knowing that I could be myself and do whatever I want and just throw shit at the wall without worrying about anything. after my friend passed away, the escapism of it became that much more valuable. (btw I would not post about it were I not in a much better place with it so don't worry about me <3)

I feel like maybe it's important at this point to explain the meaning of all the support because I've genuinely been unable to express it in a way I find appropriate. every piece of art every sweet comment etc. etc. helped get me through this really weird, sad, shocking time. As "cringe" as it might seem... fandom and fanfic can be really meaningful, powerful, and connective.

All this being said. coming home was definitely released in the right time for this to happen. A multichapter released right before and during season 2 as well as in the months after? Like. It was primed for this a bit (not intentionally but still) So many fics that get posted now deserve the same amount of love and support.

I really hesitate with numbers. sharing them, abiding by them, gaining value from them. I also get nervous about how people will feel entitled to treat me because of them. But this is so insane it feels weird not to say a bigger thank you.

[transformers-spike]

your writing is soooo good i love everything you post and i'm sooo happy i found your blog!!! i have a suggestion, can u write more about sg optimus x human reader? i loved the bit u did abt him and there's really not much content out there. nsfw or sfw alike is fine i just want to see him being his cruel and manipulative self

Oh man thank you so much! I've been actually having a ton of fun working with @drunkeninlovesailor on our SG universe. I definitely want to explore it more when I have the chance

“Let it go,” Ratchet says. Roughness underlines his drunken drawl. You’ve never seen him sober.

He takes a swig of the strange teal concoction at his workstation. It glows through his throat as he swallows. Once, you asked Optimus what the Chief Medical Officer was drinking. “High grade,” he replied with the gentle patience of a parent.

Except you’ve seen high grade. It’s bubbly and bright blue, nothing close to the radioactive liquid in Ratchet’s glass.

His near-constant drunken stupor is what you’ve been banking on, a faulty investment at that. Some concerned, almost empathetic part of you wants to ask what’s wrong, but you know better than that.

Trauma has seeped into the very mechanism of their faction. Arcee looks at you with silent rage for wasting their leader’s precious time, while Bulkhead doesn’t spare you a glance. He is wholly uncaring, the same as Ratchet. But the doctor listens at least; watches on with disinterest as you speak, though his responses are cold and jagged. Whatever conversation he may entertain instantly evaporates when Optimus makes his presence known. “Bitlet,” he calls you with suffocating tenderness. The comfort it brings is no different from shoving frost-bitten hands into a fire. You flash him a smile and approach despite your better instincts, legs carrying you to the edge of the mezzanine as though trudging through heavy snow. When his digit comes to stroke your cheek, you do not flinch or reel back in disgust. After all, weren’t his servos caressing tender flesh mere hours ago? Didn’t you kiss the lips of the liar you call home? Or uttered those three cursed words like you meant it? What is there to love in a murderer? More than you can ever imagine.

How could such kindness hold nothingness behind it? That which you considered contempt has revealed itself to be much worse: utter apathy.

“You seem to be socializing more than usual,” he says with genuine interest, as though his words have no hidden meaning. Ratchet, although his back is turned, flinches under the weight of his gaze.

Do not call attention to it.

“You could certainly put it that way,” you attempt to mimic the warmth of his tone.

His optics scan you with ease. Mimicry doesn’t work on him. He sees right through you. How could a conversation so menial feel like walking across a frozen pond? One wrong step and you’ll fall into the icy depths.

His expression doesn’t shift, frozen with warmth.

“Would you like to join me at the archives? I seem to have decrypted files which may be to your liking.” Yet again, he pulls you away from the only means of discerning the truth. Who Optimus is behind his carefully constructed mask only the doctor knows. They met before Earth, before the war, before Megatronus. And it cost him terribly.

You give the response Optimus expects, his gaze burning hotter than a thousand suns.

He cups you in his servos with sickening tenderness you both love and despise; a veneer of kindness hiding a monster whose form you cannot discern. Step closer and risk to be engulfed by the darkness surrounding him? Or let yourself be devoured until he tires of your flesh?

You lack the luxury to choose.

[notforpenance]

Hey! This is for the askgame, because I’m sure that I’d love any recommendation from you :)

💖 a fic you recently read, loved and why!

💗 a fic you’ve reread again and again and why!

my tastes can be a little all over the place, so i hope some of these interest you C: i wanted to do one carcar and one lestappen for each but then i found like five lestappen fics i wanted to say so you get a few more than one.

💖 a fic you recently read, loved and why!

You'll Just Have to Remind Me by the_e_sea (t, carcar, memory loss) this fic is still in progress, but so far, I'm loving it. carlos has antiretrograde amnesia which means he wakes up every day thinking it is the same as the day before, and he keeps going to the convenience store every night where oscar works to buy dryer sheets. oscar begins to realize that there's something a little strange about the same guy buying dryer sheets every single night and engaging him in the exact same conversation each time. when i first started it i was a little confused as to how it could be carcar if carlos never remembers what has happened during his day but the dynamic is carried out so well and it feels really natural and lifelike. definitely recommend it, i'm excited to see more of this one.

blood chem by @sediciii (e, lestappen, vampire, roommates) i'm a sucker for vampire fics (pun intended). this one is probably my favorite i have ever read. it's a lestappen oneshot. max is a vampire, and charles is his all-too-willing-to-help roommate. max looks forward to charles coming back to the room so that he can feed, and charles looks forward to letting max feed for... other reasons. it's very sexy and a little soft, and i love the dynamic between the two of them

💗 a fic you’ve reread again and again and why!

purpose in you by @charlescoded (e, lestappen, arranged marriage, dune au) it's a lestappen dune au oneshot. if you know about dune, charles is a member of the benegesserit and max takes on like a feyd-rautha-type role, and they have an arranged marriage. it got posted right when i was watching the second dune movie for the first time, so it was perfect timing to hook me in. i wish there were more fics in dune au because i feel like that universe has a lot to offer. i cannot express enough how much i am absolutely obsessed with this piece. it is written at a level of writing quality i can only aspire to ever write in my lifetime. the whole piece is entirely enthralling. it is the second part of the series, but this is the one i always reread. the first part is breeding grounds

Ruckus by @tylersayscool (e, lestappen, dystopian battle royale) let me start by saying that everything I've read from this author is so good, i highly recommend checking her out if you haven't already. this one is my favorite, here's the description because i don't think i can do it justice. "The students are taken to a deserted island, fitted with explosive collars, and given random weapons. They are instructed to kill each other until only one survivor remains. If no one is killed within a set time period, the collars will detonate, killing everyone." this fic has such a chokehold on me that i literally was quoting sections in my journal and dissecting them in like essay length entries LOL. the writing is so high quality and the plot is so interesting and unique.

Open my mouth, on my knees (for you) by @lovelylotusf1 (e, carcar) a little less than a year ago i was scrolling through the second round of F1 Kinkmeme submissions looking for oneshots to read and i found this one. funfact: my one fic "you're too sweet for me" was originally supposed to be a lestappen fic and then i read this piece and i was like 'damn i wanna write carcar' and i switched it to that instead. this is a carcar oneshot. here's the description: "Oscar has to deal with the consequences of a drunken confession he sent to Carlos. He gets more than he bargained for." i keep coming back to it because it has such a special place in my heart.

okay i will stop rambling now! there are a few more i would've thrown in but this is already super long i feel like, so i hope some of these are fresh for you to enjoy C:

[jayparked]

just a fair warning i'm going to be emotional and sappy under the cut (༎ຶ _｣ ༎ຶ )

i just want to start by saying thank you guys so much. for following me, for engaging with my work, for leaving me nice anons and comments. i genuinely cannot begin to express the gratitude i have for each and every one of you.

i never expected to get this far. i only made this blog last july because my best friend @sungbeams wanted me to join enhablr with her. i had so many ideas and wanted to write again and she encouraged me to start sharing them. so lia, thank you for giving me that push. being able to do this with you is my favorite thing in the whole world and your constant unwavering encouragement and support for me has inspired me to keep creating in times where i thought i'd never be able to pull myself from a dark space again. the biggest thank you goes to you.

this might not seem like a big deal to a lot of people but this truly means so much to me. in a way, you've all given me a purpose and a sense of community that i was desperately craving. i haven't had an easy life, and i won't go into the details of it, but being able to share my silly thoughts and see how my work is bringing people joy and laughter...you guys have filled a very large empty space in my heart.

everything i do here is for you guys and i cannot thank you enough for sharing your thoughts, emotions, and feedback with me.

i cannot believe there's over 2,000 of you here now. i know i'm still not done with the drabble event when i reached 1,000 followers (and i'm so sorry i promise i'm still working on those drabbles ((55 left!!)))

so because of that, i don't have an event planned. if anything i would love it if you guys wanna share your favorite quotes from some of my work or just overall favorite moments?

i wanna celebrate but i'm not sure how ;--;

just...overall...thank you guys so much. you have no idea just how much this actually means to me. i appreciate you all. more than you'll ever know.

here are some of my favorite things you guys have said to me about my work:

i hit the limit but there's sosososososososo much more. i love every comment you guys make my day. i save so many of these in a private folder to look back on when i'm feeling sad. i'm so fond of each and every one of you. thank you for everything 💛

[lightcreators]

Reassurance  immedietly  came  inside  his  ocean  eyes.  Oh,  he  was  an  caring  man,  doesn't  it  ?  It  has  been  an  unexpected  proposition,  and  he  wasn't  going  to  refuse  it  …  nevertheless,  he  wanted  everything  been  good  for  each  other,  for  both  sides.  Once  more,  he  was  merely  an  visitor.  He  might  asking  some  exceptions  for  turn  comfortable  his  own  wife,  it  was  simple  temporary  measure.  Inside  another  Fragment,  all  he  desired  was  to  remain  discreete  …  maybe  not  as  discreete  as  the  Witch  of  Paradoxes,  but  he  wasn't  supposed  to  be  center  of  attention.  ❝  Few  days  is  fine  for  me.  I  totally  understand  beaches  are  for  everyone,  I  was  mostly  speaking  about  privatizing  the  onsen  for  be  sure  my  wife  won't  be  ---  ❞  He  had  no  words  to  describe  future  reaction  she  will  have.  She  might  turn  the  onsen  into  an  closed  room  for  safety,  because  he  has  been  too  stupid  for  not  anticipating  enough.  She  might  turn  herself  into  an  golden  butterfly,  and  admiring  him  instead,  since  presence  of  other  people,  that  might  not  heard  of  witches,  and  with  their  anti-magic  toxic  would  be  around  the  atmosphere  …  Beato  carefully  expressed  and  showing  herself  inside  another  place.  He  had  that  freedom  to  wandering  around.  ❝  Private  properties  would  mean  lot  of  money,  and  accidentally,  an  kind  of  invitation  to  settle  down  upon  that  place  ---  when,  once  more,  I'm  an  tourist.  It  must  existing  some  …  place  …  in  which  people  could  rest,  coming  from  the  outside,  having  their  own  bedrooms  and  all  …  ❞  He  didn't  knew  if  hotel  was  an  word  they  actually  used  down  there.  Another  carefuless  to  have.  He  need  to  reminder  about  how  the  wing  of  a  butterfly  can  change  everything  ---  he  was  quite  at  the  crossroad  at  that  kind  of  experience.  ❝  Right,  I  can  be  good  with  it.  Though,  would  need  to  do  something  concerning  the  money  for  pay  it  back.  I  really  appreciate  the  concerns  for  me,  and  help  me  to  find  solutions  about  what  you  just  proposed,  nevertheless,  it  would  be  normal  I  am  paying  you  back  in  return  …  as  an  casual  tourist  would  do inside same situation.  ❞

There  was  an silence.  Confusion  welcomed  his  sentences.  In  which  moment  did  he  implied  he  would  leave  ?  ❝  Who  say  I'm  going  to  leave  ?  Who  say  I  needed  to  leave  ?  ❞  He  asked  in  most  gentleness  of  manners.  If  Beato  looked  one  gaze  over  where  he  was,  she  could  presenting  herself  without  warning.  Concerning  possibilities  of  Alois  Trancy  showing  up  down  his  face,  well,  as  much  he  didn't  wanted  to  think  about  it,  it  would  be  for  expressing  some  hi  to  him,  in  which  he  had  no  worries  Luke  Skywalker  influence  will  be  limited  inside  shadowing  realm  where  he  cannot  be  spotted,  or  refused  to  physically  make  his  presence  known.  ❝  Hey,  I'm  just  arrived  down  there.  I'm  not  planning  to  leave  anytime  soon  for  the  moment.  Do  not  worry.  ❞  He  cannot  helped  to  laugh  upon  associated  assumption.  In  the  contrary  ---  he  could  came  here  often.  Wasn't  something  he  was  yet  accoustumed  to  do.  Wasn't  yet  something  himself  allowed  himself  to  experience.  However,  the  Golden  Witch  Witch  of  Miracles  was  known  to  attaching  himself.  ❝  For  your  perception,  my  manner  to  showing  up  down  there  is  something  complicated,  and  quite  an  mystery,  in  which  only  explanation  I  can  give  to  you,  as  an  Sorcerer,  is  magic.  I  can  assure  you,  it's  alright.  What  would  I  want  to  leave  already  when  I  have  everything  to  see  ?  ❞

"Privatize? well... we can only do that for a few days. We don't have much of private property around here, the beaches are meant to be free for everyone."

Despite the prosperity happening around Syahoro, there was no exclusive place to actually stay. Everything was traditional by the books. even couple retreats were-

wait.

"Ah, A couple inn would suit you best. But its high in the mountains... but they do have nice hot springs out there. Then again I don't know when you'll be coming back. After all the best place to be is the home." in truth Soyankekur was not the minister of tourism, they barely had one. the natural charm of the place and the sheer alcoholic fruit the region possessed, made it a good hot spot for tourist. But he's nodding his heed as if he has all the answers already.

"Though with how much you keep repeating on how hard it is to come back or go here, it feels like this is the last time I'll be seeing you." a brief friendship is good, foreigners brought words of distant lands but the way his words were actually said made him hesitate to actually promote things now that he kept thinking about it. After all the future is mysterious and he can't assume anything at all. but ...it sounds like it was difficult coming here.

"Ah, dont' mind my musings. Its just a old man who assumes too much."

[rennsdeaddoves]

I RUSHED TO MAKE THIS WHEN I SAW THE REF SHEET

*renn's edit; I'M GOING TO CRY!!!!! I AM IN THE MIDDLE OF CLASS OMGGGGGGG THIS ACTUALLY BROUGHT TEARS TO MY EYES SHE SO PRETTYYYYYYYYYYYY

jay you out did yoursellllf *

[egophiliac]

OMG EGO HAVE YOU SEEN THE BOOK 7 CATER CARD YET

80s britpunk Cater is such an incredible direction to take. his Sid Vicious jacket! his little british police cap! I wouldn't have anticipated that going full-on Sex Pistols would be his alternate self but it is SO fitting actually. 😭

(also th-the crown symbol?! the gavel?! is housewarden Cater real because I will TRANSCEND --)

[ghostcreaturetypething]

This is the most beautiful thing I have seen in such a long time. Everything about it is so perfect, I can't explain. I am crying instead. Nona, you may never know how much I love you, but if you were to see this I hope you could see in it how much OP loves you, and from that guess at the feelings of the world in general. Me included. <333

The animatic I’ve been working on since last November is finally done!! Over 100 hours of work on this, much agony and tribulations, but it’s finally done.

[tboynightmare]

everytime an artist draws viktor with top surgery scars an angel gets its wings

[unriding]

me n moze say good morning to the world !!! ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ

art by @rabbbitseason of course <3

[tatakaeeren]

I can't get these two scenes out of my head. His eyes and lips say everything without saying a word.

[hedgewitchnecromancer]

That’s it!!!!! Thank you so much!!!!!

So back when I was in school around 2016-2017 my teacher showed us a series of like 12 black and white engravings or woodcuts or paintings maybe made by the same guy at some lost time and I’ve been searching for them since to no avail so I’m throwing this out to see if tumblr knows.

Here are the artworks that I do remember:

A suburban house flying away on rocket boosters

A chef woman readying to carve up a glowing pumpkin

Two glowing orbs hovering over a sleeping child

I have literally never seen them since, but the three I remember have sparked countless inspiration from me and I desperately want to see them again. Please, if anyone knows or even has any guesses, I’d happily take them

Thank you so much

[demolitionistic]

there is something so resonating about them not being able to be out to their friends, to the people around them. hirukawas slight comment that opened the door up, but being able to shut it again without exposing anything, with minase and their place in the social world safe. the toeing the water and retreating safely back because the water isn't always safe, and sometimes it won't ever be. it's heartbreaking, it's real. i do love the fantasy of other series, where either homophobia doesn't exist or is overcome by the Support of People Around. that bubble is fun and it can be so comforting.

but i rarely get to see this version of it, where you have to come to terms with that it isn't realistic in certain situations; situations you *will* be put in and *will* be choosing yourself. and it hits close to heart, it does, and that's not what you always want from a series. i resonate with it so much though. some people i love won't ever know that part of me and that is a sacrifice i am making, but something i rarely see discussed. i love it, and i do think it's a good ending for them. they have each other and their own spaces and moments, and that is wonderful.