#i know I'm not drawing lamb much lately but ...

[ro-bee]

Chat can i still join the lambswap game and how do I do it??? I'm so confused

[numberonetribble]

That night, Piston snuck out to follow Breakdown home, unfortunately, there were Seekers in the woods and Nova Storm found them first.

Inspired by Depeche Mode: Policy of Truth

You had something to hide

Should have hidden it, shouldn't you?

Now you're not satisfied

With what you're being put through

It's just time to pay the price

For not listening to advice

And deciding in your youth

On the policy of truth

Things could be so different now

It used to be so civilized

You will always wonder how

It could have been if you'd only lied

It's too late to change events

It's time to face the consequence

For delivering the proof

In the policy of truth

My first long form comic!!!! This is canon to Earthspark and how Piston loses their T-Cog. (They live!) Bumblebee loses his voice from crying. Breakdown is resolved to get back to Cybertron for a new T-Cog. There will be a part two! And I also would like to do the Breakdown version that's canon to my Last Mile Marker AU. It's completely different but same vibes.

But this is why I make Piston so goofy, baby isn't even a Cycle old and doesn't know any better. They are my funny little lamb who is happy to be alive. I have alot of things I want to say but I'm really proud of this, I did it over a 3 day weekend so I'm sorry if anything is wonky. (Did you know that the Seekers have hooves?)

Also, I always worry that Bee comes off like he dislikes Piston in my work but I feel like it's more complicated and he doesn't have anyone he can talk to about it. Bee is very much a "I just want to hold my baby" parent but he can't, as Piston is so large and how do you express that out loud? Bumblebee is acutely aware that Piston would've been a child-solider if they were born during the war and it keeps him up at night. He is adamant that Piston never knows what suffering is, and in turn Piston ends up a little too sheltered. Bumblebee and Breakdown argue a lot over raising them. A particularly bad one is when Breakdown wanted to encourage Piston to discover if they had a built-in Stinger like Bumblebee and Bumblebee lost his mind over the suggestion. It doesn't help that Piston wants to be exactly like Breakdown.

In part two I want to draw a poem/musing Ratchet has to himself while repairing Piston's arm. Nova Storm lore in the undercut!

Nova Storm is the Big Bad in The Last Mile Marker AU. She has beef with Bumblebee and takes any opportunity to hurt him. She's a massive hater. Why Nova Storm? I hear you ask. Great question! She's yellow :) With damaged optics and low light, Piston confuses her for Bee at the worst possible moment. But honestly, I wanted a Seeker and I have Megatron and Starscream off doing their own self-reflections and working for the greater good. I wanted someone different with unique motivations and Skywarp is on the Bee-Team. Why does she have beef with Bumblebee? Another great question! During the war, Bumblebee was in charge of a team and one member offlined Nova Storm's conjux. She blames Bumblebee and is out for revenge.

[overstuffd]

So, feedee werewolf won, obviously, because you're all a bunch of bottoms (loving).

So here are some more thoughts.

When I find you in the woods you're cold, scared - and hungry.

I bring you back to my cottage, offer you some clothes to replace your soaked rags. They're a few sizes too big but you're grateful.

Slowly, you piece together last night. The transformation - the gorging yourself on chickens from the farmer a few miles over.

I smile and offer you a firm, gentle hand. Don't worry - I'm here to help. You're so relieved you don't notice how deep my nails dig into the flesh of your arm.

First, I want you comfortable. I draw you a warm bath to shake off the night before. The fire is crackling, and the incense I light leaves you feeling dozy and calm.

After your bath there are more soft, large clothes - you wonder who they are for - and a proper meal, you look like you need one, poor thing!

You don't realise how late it's gotten, but I've prepared a King's supper. A roast ham and a whole cold chicken, a loaf of bread still warm from the oven, a huge tray of butter roasted potatoes, pumpkin and carrots, glazed in honey. There are soft fried eggs in a dish, and jars of cramy sauces and pickles. You set about making yourself a huge sandwhich, and you're almost done before you realise you didn't wait to be invited to eat.

You blush as you look up at at me, but I wave your concerns away. I set the table for you, enjoy it.

As you eat, I explain your condition, and the words are so distracting you barely notice how many brick sized sandwiches you're gulping down.

You're a werewolf, poor little lamb, I explain. The fellow with the dark eyes you let take you home from the bar a few weeks ago - those bite marks aren't the only thing he left with you.

Your curse is to transform every full moon into a creature controlled purely by desire and animal need - yourself in an unihinited, bestial form, with power to do as you will. I know, it must be scary sweet thing - here, try one of these custard buns.

The good news is, as you've probably guessed, I'm more than just familar with the arcane and supernatural. I'm quite a skilled practitioner of magics, and with your cooperation I can make the next full moon much less dangerous for everyone.

You're so grateful to hear - the memories of the night before that are flashning through your mind scare you, as much as they stir something else, deep at the root of your stomach.

I tell you to eat up and get some sleep, I'll begin your training - your instruction, that is - tomorrow.

-

You wake and breakfast is ready - cooked meats, more eggs and poetatoes, and pastries, fruit - you don't take it all in before you start eating, you're ravenous.

Your hair is longer, you notice as I idly play with it, and is spreading down you neck and across your shoulders. You shovel more eggs, another chocolate stuffed puff-pastry treat, not thinking it at all strange as I work out one of the stress knots in your shoulder.

After breakfast - the third plate of which you eat at my insistence - I start teaching you about herblore.

Your wolf form - I explain - is an extension of your self. Don't think of yourself and them as separate creatures, they are your needs and desires made flesh. The better state you are going into the full moon, the more docile your wolf form.

As I talk, you are distracted by my fingers rolling thumb-fat herbal cigarettes into tight cones. My voice watches ovr you as the repetitive movement makes you feel dozy.

Lavender, or course, and chamomile, for calm and stillness. Mallow root for dreaminess. Oatflower for - making you open to influence. My, postitive influence. Heather for appetite - you're going to need your strength. Mugwort to enhance sensation, to keep you in touch with your body. A few others from my garden - I'm passioante about creating potent cross strains.

I place one of the joints in your mouth and light the tip, flicking away the ash as your hungry mouth starts the cone before your conscious mind has time to realise what's happening. I pull the joint away and take a hit myself, you taking a moment to greedily gasp air, before I press my lips against yours and shotgun the herbal mixture directly into your neuro-cortex.

Your head swims, and your brain short circuits as I place a hand on your thigh. You stuggle to regain your composure, as a bell in the kitchen goes off.

Oh - lunch is ready!

As I sidle off to the kitchen, you realise how warm you feel between your thighs from the contact.

-

Lunch is a shepherds pie, and I make no move to serve a portion, just place the whole dish in front of you with a huge spoon breaking the crisp crust and fragrant steam spilling into the air.

You don't hesitate, you pick up the spoon and start digging in. The food smells delicious, and you're already ravenous despite the huge breakfast. You swallow mouthful after mouthful of rich, savoury food as I explain more to you, slowly and clearly like you've realise you need.

Fullness is important. I explain, gently. I'm across the table but my foot is playing with the inside fo your thigh. The hungrier you are, the more dangerous your wolf is. It's so important that you stay full. I'm going to do my best, okay, but you need to tell me as soon as there's any room in your belly, sweet thing.

You nod happily, barely looking up from you pie.

Good dog, I say, as I ruffle you hair.

-

Dinner comes, pinning you to you chair in the kitchen, and as you eat I explain how important it is that you indulge all your needs now, while you're still a soft, safe human.

You are barely listening, enjoying dragging more of the soft, fresh and heavily buttered bread through more of the delicious, spiced stew. It's one again full of my specially chosen herbs, but you don't need to know that. You've found yourself needing to know less and less all day.

You look a little pent up dear, I say, softly, walking round to your end of the table. No - you keep eating. I know just what to do.

I slide under the table and gently pull down the trousers I leant you. They're loose - for now - and come down easily so I can take you in mouth. I gently suck as you swallow more food.

I don't know if you realise how much you're moaning, but I suspect it has as much to do with the meal as it does with my fingers teasing your hole.

You finish your dinner before you finish in my mouth, already such a good pet. Tomorrow we'll have much more to do to make you safe, but for now I'll walk your heavy, drowsy form to the bed and rub your bloated belly till you sleep.

[yumeaoka-chan]

Hunger Pains

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Reader/ Ghoul! Hobie x Human! Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Tags: Tokyo Ghoul au, Blood, Ghoulified Hobie, no physical description of reader, can be read as gender neutral reader, scared reader, badass Hobie (I'm really not good at writing fight scenes, ugh), cursing, death (not as bad as you think), lovesick reader, lovesick Hobie, hungry boi Hobie, "The lion falls in love with the lamb" basically

Summary: You go to visit Hobie after not hearing from him for weeks.

A/N: Credit for the lovely banners goes to @the-shroom-garden !!! Late entry for week 3 of Octobie, I'm sorry @the-kr8tor 😭🤚 I got sick outta nowhere, so I'm currently laying in bed as I post this😔 I was going to write a Baldur's Gate 3 au but, the angst potential of Tokyo Ghoul kept screaming at me😭🤚

Taking a deep breath, you knock softly on the door, the houseboat calmly rocking on the water.

“Hobie? Are you in there?” You call out, a frown forming on your lips as you notice no lights are on inside. It's eerily quiet, especially at this time of night. You knew you should've waited until the morning. Tears sting your eyes and you inhale shakily, trying to will the feeling away. Hobie has been distant lately, almost as if he was avoiding you. If you call, he doesn't pick up. When you went to his band practice, his bandmates claimed he wasn't there. And when you went to his favorite hiding spot, the rooftop of a small local music shop that overlooks the city, he was nowhere to be seen.

Just when things were going so well, you thought to yourself as you slowly made your way off of his boat. You and Hobie had been friends for what felt like forever, being together through most of Primary school and all throughout Secondary. Even now, while you are enrolled in college, you two are thick as thieves. Throughout the years, your fondness and admiration of him had slowly formed into adoration and, dare you say it, love. You were in love with him, had been in love with him for quite a while. And just when you had worked up the courage to tell him how you feel, he practically ghosts you.

Walking through the shortcut through the alleyway to get to your dorm, you don't notice the set of eyes watching you from the rooftops, too busy lamenting over Hobie and what you could have done to push him away. The late night streets are silent, not a single soul out due to the frigid cold of the winter breeze. Shivering, you pull your jacket tighter around your body, sniffling from the cold or tears, perhaps. As you trudge on, you suddenly hear something behind you. The faintest of footsteps, the most quiet of chuckles. The very sound makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end, goosebumps raising on your arms. Taking a steadying breath, you keep walking, albeit quicker than before. No good would come of acknowledging the sound, that much you knew.

The footsteps draw nearer still, making your heart begin to pound in your chest. Your pulse quickens, your breath hitches, and you suddenly forget to remain calm. Zipping and darting through the deserted streets of London, you try to lose your pursuer through the series of backstreets. Fear grips your chest as you hear the footsteps grow even closer, the chuckles now turned into cackles. How could you be so stupid? Walking around this late, knowing full well that they lurked in the shadows. You want to cry when you slam into a tall metal gate, hurriedly looking over your shoulder. That's when you see him. Tall and broad and practically frothing at the mouth, the long blue appendage coiled around his arm gleaming under the light of the moon. His grin is unhinged, eyes glowing red with pulsing veins surrounding them. When they meet your gaze, you can see the eagerness in them. It makes you let out a fearful cry as you scramble to climb over the gate.

A hand suddenly grips your foot, making you slip and cut your palm open on the sharp metal. You let out a hiss and you struggle to free your foot, fear clawing its way into your chest. The ghoul behind you inhales deeply, salivating at the scent of your blood oozing down your arm.

“Been so long since I had such a good looking meal. I'll savor you, little lambchop.” He cackles as he wrenches you away from the gate with one strong tug. You yelp as you fall down harshly onto the ground, your nose the first to collide onto the asphalt. Head swimming from the impact, you hardly register the crimson dripping from your nose, eyes blearily looking up at your captor with horror. And as he pried open his dripping maw, you could see your life flashing before your eyes. Every joyous moment, every harsh disappointment. And yet, no memory shined brighter than those that involved Hobie. You were going to die before ever getting to reveal your feelings to him. Lips wobbling and tears falling, you gazed at the face of your demise and whispered the one you wanted to see most.

“Hobie…” Just as quick as those words left your lips, the ghoul in front of you was viciously ripped away. Eyes wide with shock and disbelief at the sudden rescue, you blink up at the figure suddenly standing above you. His back was turned to you and sprouting from it were eight long, sharp, spider leg like tendrils. They were as red as the darkest of wines and glowed brightly, illuminating the alleyway. Squinting your eyes, you could see the faint outline of his head, the hair on his head making you gasp. Not just the hair, the clothes too. The leather jacket on his back and the boots that adorned him were all too familiar. Sitting up a bit, your lips tremble as you utter his name.

“I-Is that you… Hobie…?” Hearing his name on your lips is like a godsend everytime, but not this time. Not when you're shaking like a leaf from fear. Hobie grits his teeth as he turns to look down at you, hearing the sharp intake of breath you make when you see his eyes. One brown and one a glowing red, angry red veins surrounding it. He gives you a placating smile before turning his head back to glare at the ghoul that's now standing across from him. The taller man snarls, spit flying from his lips as his coiled appendage glows brighter.

“You filthy One-Eyed! That's my dinner! I called dibs!” Crouching low and spider-like appendages curling around his form, Hobie glares harshly at the other.

“Touch a hair on this one's head and I'll fuckin’ kill you”, he utters lowly, voice on the edge of a growl. The taller ghoul cackles and points his finger at Hobie, eyes wild and sharp with mania.

“That right? I'll just devour you before I feast on the lambchop's flesh then!” With a roaring shout, the crazed ghoul rushes at Hobie, his sharp coiled appendage aimed straight for his chest. Fury rumbles in his chest as Hobie dashes forward to meet him, his deadly appendages shooting forward to harshly stab the ghoul's shoulder. The broad man howls with pain before twisting his body free of them, arm moving to swipe at the other's chest. Wincing as he feels it slice through his shirt and graze his skin, Hobie uses his appendages to propel himself into the air, before viciously bringing them down onto the man's head.

The fight goes on for several minutes, your eyes darting to and fro as you try to spot Hobie in all the madness. They're both quick and every blow you see him take makes you grip your chest, scared that he'll die in this violent whirlwind. Your heart hammers in your ears and it feels like the bloody battle drones on for nearly an hour. There's dust as they kick up and crack the asphalt beneath their feet, making it impossible to see through. Stumbling on your feet, your ears pick up the sudden wail of pain that rings in the air. It's silent then, the dust slowly clearing.

Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly walk forward, stepping closer to where you can hear the sounds of harsh panting. Just as you step into the circle of dust, you see a glowing red eye staring back at you.

“Don't!” Hobie's booming command rings in your ear and your body seizes up almost automatically. As the dust finally starts to settle, you can see how he grips his right side, blood flowing through his fingers. His other hand is held out in your direction, palm facing you in a clear indication for you not to come any closer. Hobie's face is scrunched up in a painful grimace as he watches concern flit across your features. He adamantly shakes his head, feet slowly backing away from you.

“Don't”, he says, softer this time, like he can't mask the agony that colors his voice. “P-Please just… don't…” He can't take it, can't take how good you smell. How good your blood smells. Skin that he knows would be so soft beneath his fingers, so giving as his nails dig into your arm, leaving marks that would never fade as his lips descend onto your neck. Hobie closes his eyes as the very image seers inside of his brain. It's so vivid that he can almost taste it, taste the way your skin gives beneath his teeth as he gorges himself on the divine banquet that is your flesh.

“No, no, fuck, no…”, he mumbles to himself, hand that was held out to you now gripping his hair. He tugs on the coarse hair, biting his lip so hard that he breaks the skin. “Not Star… Not my Star…” Because how could he ever think to harm you, his Star, his light in this oppressed world? Just the fact that he even imagined tainting you, defiling your body with his disgusting, atrocious hunger… Tears slip down his cheeks as he feels the gaping blackhole in his stomach nag at him, begging him to feast on you, the one he loved most. Because what is love if not to consume and be consumed in return?

You weren't blind to his internal conflict, seeing the way he leered at you before stumbling back, farther away from you. Taking a step forward, you're careful to avoid stepping on the body of the dead ghoul in front of him. Hobie's head shoots up and it makes your heart ache, seeing the waterfall of tears cascading down his cheeks. He's shaking his head furiously as he stumbles back slowly and you steel your resolve, even as he yells and curses at you. Shouts of “No, stay back” and “I'll hurt you, please stay back” ring in your ears and with a heavy heart, you press on. Hobie's back is pressed against a brick wall by the time you come face to face with him, his lips trembling and long legs shaking slightly.

“Hobie”, you breathe out softly as you press a shaky hand against his cheek, making him shudder. “Hobes… Is this why you've been avoiding me…?” His face twists into a visibly pained scowl as he clenches his eyes shut. Taking a careful breath, he slowly nods his head. Fear releases its icy claws from your heart, leaving only tenderness and concern for the man before you. You wait patiently as he calms his frantic breathing, the appendages surrounding him slowly retreating into his back. When he looks at you again, you see his brown eyes glistening, the hunger still lurking beneath the depths of his lipid pools. You give him a small smile, acceptance shining in your soft gaze.

“Tell me everything. From the beginning, okay?” Is what you whisper to him. Hobie can't help but bask in the bright light, the shining beacon that is you. It's then and there that he's determined to find a way to put that sickening hunger to sleep for good, his love for you stronger than his beast.

“It's… a long story, love…”

[vilz]

hello obviously there isn't anything i can really do to control this (unfortunately i deleted a bunch of posts BEFORE turning off reblogs on them) but i would prefer that people did not circulate my posts from this blog any more... i appreciate that people are kind to me about my art, but that is just my request i suppose. this blog is unprivated now, and if you'd like to see what is still up you can look at them here. my ask box is also open but i will not be making any art posts here from now on. here is a little preemptive faq:

why did you leave?

i didn't feel comfortable or happy posting on this blog any more!

do you still make art? do you post it somewhere else?

yes. but i've been pulling away from posting very much online, and the things i'm interested in drawing nowadays are generally more private, so i won't be directing anyone there or anything. i don't consider my new blog to be a continuation of this one.

i know your new blog!

that isn't really that surprising since i didn't honestly put great effort into concealing it or anything. we are probably not friends, so i hold no sway over you, but i would still prefer you did not share it or treat me as if i am still "vilz who posts fnaf art". i'm just a whatever blogger who blogs about whatever things. also to be frank i do not think my new blog has anything that interesting for people who followed for the kind of art i used to post here. this is not an invitation to say "it is interesting!".

we are friends!

if we have not been in direct, mutual conversations i highly doubt that. i'm sorry if that hurts anyone's feelings.

why did you delete all your self ship art?

people seem to enjoy my self ship art a lot, which is very flattering, but i don't want people to be looking at them any more. i realize that they are still rebloggable and are still circulating around, which is nobody's fault but my own, but i would prefer they were not shared any more. i can't really do anything about it and i also don't blame anyone for reblogging those posts since it's obviously not something they would know, but yeah.

i saw your art on pinterest!

i did not and do not consent to my works being put on pinterest. the art from "vilz" has not been uploaded by me to any other website besides tumblr. if someone is posting my art from here on a different platform, they are doing so without permission.

i saw you on magma!

i still join magma boards sometimes lol. it's a fun site.

what about your ocs?

they are still my ocs. sometimes i still draw them. currently, i do not have any plans of posting my oc art online ever again. i would prefer that people did not reblog the oc art i have posted to this blog.

what about your fics?

all of my fics are still up on ao3 anonymously. they are: small mercies obscura floriography baying of lambs scrape bitch, bastard, bullshit almost human a dream, recurring countdown i'm very flattered and happy that people have left kind comments on these. thank you very much for reading the words of an amateur and for sharing an experience with me.

are you going to finish your uncompleted fics?

i would really like to say yes, because i care a great deal about aspects of them, but it's looking pretty unlikely. i lost all my files (and my calmlywriter key !!! always save your emails and receipts, everyone!!!) and also it's hard to feel motivated about them now. i guess i will leave this up in the air just to soothe my own feelings but in reality the answer is Probably Not.

are you going to post new fics?

i might, because i've been in a writing mood lately, but please don't expect anything. if i do, they will be anonymous on ao3. i will not post about them here or on any other blog.

i really liked your posts and blog!

thank you. i'm glad that people could feel that way about the things i made and thought about stuff i care about. irregardless, i would prefer that people did not share my old posts from this blog.

i will do it anyway.

i cannot stop you, so there isn't really any point in pleading. i just thought i'd make a little info post for people who are inquiring. after this, there won't be any "posts" from me. if there are relevant questions or messages i might reply to them or just update this post.

thank you for reading and for enjoying my blog. goodbye !!!

[daydreamgoddess14]

Here she is! 🎉

Ella Cole - the only reject at Slough House to view her banishment as a fresh start and a chance to change her life for the better. Ella never again wants to draw attention to herself the way she did at the Park, but the past has a nasty habit of catching up with even the most cautious of people, and Ella is about to find out that keeping herself distanced from everyone is no guarantee she can keep them safe.

Taglist: @theskytraveler @moonmaiden1996 @acrackintheteacup @succulentthief

Masterlist

Warnings: *I want to be super clear on warnings so this might give away a handful of spoilers* Mentions & depictions of DV (not graphic or laboured), minor mentions of SV (not dubcon or rape, more like coercion and 'feeling obligated'), stalking, impact of all of this shit on a child, OFC is a single mother so there are depictions of motherhood. My inbox is open if you have any questions or want to talk 😘

The Escape Artist - Chapter 1

Six months. For Ella Cole, it had been six months of living hand to mouth, trying to pay for flats, bedsits or house shares with mould on the walls and mushrooms growing out of the carpet. Drug dealers on the stairs, unlicensed dogs barking night after night, bits of kids more than half her age with flick knives and vapes. She didn't bother them, and they didn't bother her. She knew this world and understood the ecosystem and flashpoints. She leaned against the front door and wiggled the key, the only way to get it to lock properly. It was still early, quiet in the stairwell bar one other person who kept his hood up and his hands deep in his pockets. 

“Lend us a tenner, El?” 

“I'm skint Dozzer, sorry.”

“Just till tomorrow?”

“No, Doz. Get down the clinic when they open, they can get you something to get you through the day.”

“Ain't allowed in there this week. ‘Ad a row with the security gaffer.” He sniffed.

“They'll kick you out for good if you keep that shit up. I've got to go, ask Mike.”

“Thanks anyway, bab.” She didn't see anyone else on the way out. The girls would still be sleeping, false lashes caked in mascara and lipstick stains bleeding into the soft lines around their mouths. She had to get out of this block, she'd only accepted it out of desperation. The black mould on the walls of the last place stank and it was wreaking havoc with her lungs. Putting her foot on a mushroom growing out of the carpet was the last straw, but after two months she'd also had enough of bumping into addicts and sex workers in the corridors, and she was sick of the girls pimp trying to enlist her. The fellas would love ya, you could make a killin’ babe he told her. Despite the early hour, the smell of weed in the building entrance was overwhelming. 

“Ugh.” A small voice next to her complained. She'd stayed quiet so far. She wasn't always keen on Dozzer, even less so when he was after money. 

“I know, baby, it's gross.” Ella wrapped her arm around her daughter's shoulders and guided her out into the street. “It's cold, zip your coat up.” If there was ever a reason to get out of their current accommodation situation, she was it. 

“Can we go to the cafe?”

“Not today, you're in breakfast club.” They navigated the street, avoiding puddles from the never-ending rain and bags of uncollected rubbish. Ella checked her watch, late again. She only had half an hour to get to the school and then on to Slough House. Lamb never said anything if she was late, just an arched eyebrow and withering stare. She still had no idea how much he knew - or didn't know - about her. She'd certainly not told him anything. She hadn't told any of them, six months of polite-ish conversation and pointed silence. Grabbing the girl's hand, Ella dashed out onto the pedestrian crossing outside the school. An approaching car slammed on its brakes and sounded the horn. Ella spun around to face the driver.

“It's a fucking crossing, you twat!” She yelled. The driver glared at her. The driver she recognised glared at her, and then quickly realised that they knew her. “Fucking hell, Cartwright, you trying to kill us?” She raised her middle finger and continued across the road and into the school gates. She waited at reception for the breakfast club staff and said her goodbyes. As she walked back towards the road, she saw his car parked up across from the school. He beeped the horn once and gestured for her to get in. 

“Sorry, I was miles away.” He said as she got into the passenger seat. 

“My own fault. I shouldn't have rushed us out.” She muttered. “We were running late.” He didn't say anything. He merged with the traffic and drove in silence to Slough House. “I didn't mean to call you a twat,” she said as he went to open his door once he'd parked up. 

“Yeah you did. You gave me the finger after you'd recognised me.”

“Yeah I did,” she replied sheepishly. “Can you umm… can you not tell anyone?”

“About giving me the finger?”

“About her.” 

“Sure.” He shrugged. “Does she… does she have a name? Am I allowed to know?”

“Thanks for the lift.” She ignored the question and slammed the car door, trudging up the death stairs of Slough House. 

“Oh, on time I see? Just about.” Lamb sneered. He perched on the edge of Ho's desk. 

“Just about is still on time,” she told him on her way past. 

“Fucking hell, a Cartwright on time as well. You pair are spoiling me today, am I dying?” He jeered as River shoved the heavy door open. 

“God I hope so.” River muttered, dragging himself up the stairs behind Ella. By the time he'd stopped off to see Louisa, Ella had made a cup of tea for herself only, and pulled on noise cancelling headphones. “Make my own then, shall I?” He dropped into his wobbly, missing-a-wheel office chair and got stuck into the files Catherine had left on his desk. An hour later, Ella looked up from her files to fingers clicking in her face. She frowned and pulled off the headphones. 

“Yes?”

“You haven't said anything for like, an hour.”

“I'm working?”

“Well, yeah but -”

“Did you want something?”

“Can I ask a question?” She didn't reply so he went ahead. “What's her name? How old is she?”

“That's two questions.” He waited, expectantly. “She's eight.” Ella sighed. 

“And?”

“You'll take the piss out of her name so I'm not telling you.”

“You really think I'm in a position to take the piss out of someone's name?” She pursed her lips to hide the small smile. 

“Her name is Clover.” She braced for laughter, or a derogatory sneer which didn't come. 

“It's nice.”

“Nice?”

“Yeah, cute. Very hippy, I don’t envy teenage Clover. Did you choose it?”

“I did. I thought… I hoped she'd bring me luck.”

“Is that why you're here? Bad luck?” She shook her head slightly and put the headphones back on. End of conversation. “Right. Good chat, at least twenty more words than usual so that's progress.” Her head had dipped again, back to the files. 

“Are you talking to yourself?” Shirley asked from the doorway. 

“No, I'm talking to… her,” he trailed off miserably when it was clear Ella wasn't listening at all. 

“Twat. Lamb wants you.”

“Two twats in one day. I am a lucky boy,” he sighed, leaving Ella alone. 

*

As much as Ella appreciated Clover's preference for the sex workers over the drug addicts in the small block of flats, it made it somewhat trickier to explain why she wasn't allowed to pop and show them her freshly painted nails - which they always loved to see - or why she couldn't hang out at their flat for any longer than it took to say hello in the corridor.

“Why do they always have visitors?” She grumbled, admiring the purple glitter polish Ella had let her have on for the weekend. 

“Because that's their job lovey, their visitors pay to come and… play games together.”

“Like monopoly?”

“Something like that.” Ella mumbled, head halfway in the oven which wouldn't light. She idly wondered how long the gas would take to kill her, then she remembered she hadn't paid the bill. “Shit.”

“What's up?”

“McDonald's for tea. Get your shoes on.” Ella sat back on the kitchen floor, stained with god knows what, and always sticky no matter what miracle cleaning products she brought. It had to get better than this. Surely it had to get better than this. She gritted her teeth, breathing in short huffs to try and keep the tears at bay. She'd felt a pang of terror after giving away Clover's name to Cartwright. For six months she'd been so careful, not daring to speak about her to anyone just in case, just in case, it somehow reached other ears. She had no way of knowing who Cartwright was in with. He appeared above board, but didn't they all? In sleep deprived delirium, she'd even researched how to change Clover's name via deed poll. She hadn't slept properly for nearly a week, hadn't paid the gas bill, but she had a fiver in her pocket and a handful of change - enough for a kids meal and maybe something for herself if she was lucky. She leaned into the door and wiggled the key, and led Clover out, passed the congregation of kids on the stairs and straight into the girl's pimp.

“Alright, El? Still got a job for you if you want it?”

“No thank you Pav, payday on Monday. I'm sure I'll get by til then.”

“A loan then? You don't even have to pay me back in cash,” Pawel Wójcik leered at Ella, a rolled cigarette caught between his teeth. 

“Nope.”

“They love a milf ya know? Could get you forty quid a go?” Forty quid sounded like a lottery win but Ella stood fast. She held Clover's hand tightly.

“Bye, Pav.” She kept it polite, always kept it polite. He wasn't a man she wanted to upset or demean, she didn't have to work for him, he still had the ability to make her life miserable. She hadn't realised how much of a sliding scale ‘miserable’ was. She'd been miserable before but at least they'd been warm and well fed. She hadn't had pimps offering her work or addicts asking for cash. Bills were paid, and Clover had her own room. It wasn't going to be for long, she soothed. She was fighting hand over fist to get back the security deposit from the flat before. The letting company were trying to lay the blame for the mould on her and were holding onto the deposit to pay for the flat to be cleaned. Another call on Monday to get them to pay up and once they did she'd be back on her feet again. Assuming she made it to Monday. They huddled in bed together, even with the lack of sleep Ella finally felt peace. Her baby in her arms, too old really to be sleeping in her mother’s bed but when there was only one bed the options were limited. Ella thought it funny how Clo proclaimed to be a big girl who wanted her own room back, her own bed back, but who suddenly became so small again when it came to bedtime. Her stomach rumbled, the small burger she’d managed to scrape together the change for wasn’t really enough. She hoped the girls down the hall would be up in the morning, they usually had plenty of bread for toast. Pawel wouldn’t allow them to go hungry, it was bad for business when the sounds of hunger got in the way of the blow jobs. 

“Fuck me, you look like shit.” Sofia told her the next morning through a cloud of cigarette smoke.

“Can we borrow some bread til tomorrow?”

“Sofia, look at my nails!”

“Oh Clo, they look beautiful! Why don’t you ladies come in for a cuppa.”

“You don’t have any visitors?”

“Nah, we’re free til lunchtime. Don't expect to see Lulu though, she's sleeping off a big night.” Clo raced through the flat to the plush pink velvet sofa and flicked on the TV. Sofia put a gentle hand on Ella’s arm. “Rough week?”

“Awful. I need to call that letting agent again tomorrow, if I had that money back we’d have a safety net. I wouldn’t be hunting for fucking change to take to McDonalds.”

“Can you even pay cash there anymore?” Sofia put a huge mug of tea down on the table. Ella cleared her throat, nodding over at the draining board which was laden with dildos. “Sorry, washing up. I’ll hide these.”

“Please don’t make me explain to an eight year old what a dildo is.” Ella grimaced. With the dildos away, a plate piled high with buttered toast made its way to the table. Ella ate until she felt sick.

“Better?”

“Thank you. I’m sorry we had to come to you.”

“Don’t be. I’d rather look after you two than a fifty year old on viagra,” she shuddered. “Heart attack waiting to happen - and my first aid at work is not up to date.”

“You haven’t heard anything?”

“If he’s out, everyone’s keeping it quiet. I’ll tell you if I hear otherwise.” As Ella left, Sofia pushed a twenty pound note into her hand. 

“I can't take -”

“You can, you will.”

“I'll pay you back.”

“You won't. I've been there babe, I promise it'll be worth it.”

*

“Cole, with me.” Lamb ordered as lunchtime drew near on Monday. Ella's face fell, she'd planned a Subway payday treat before her wages were swallowed by bills and school clubs. She glanced over at River who shrugged and then followed Lamb outside, down the stairs and round the corner into the Chinese restaurant. His usual order was on the table already. “Whatever the girl wants.” He told the staff.

“Oh, no I'm fine.”

“You ain't paying, I know you’re broke.” Ella blushed. “Saw you nicking biscuits from Ho's desk for breakfast last week.” 

“Chow mein please.” She mumbled, eyes tracing the red gingham tablecloth.

“Get her some other bits as well, will ya? Put it on my tab. Now, what I'm trying to work out is why you're so broke. It's not the old fizzy lifting powder, you're not as twitchy as Dander. Longridge is the resident gambler -”

“Just had a few big bills this month.”

“Why are you here?”

“Why are you asking me? You could just find out from the Park. Or Ho.”

“I'm asking you,” he said sternly. After a few sloppy bites of noodles, he softened. “Look, you don't seem as brain dead as the rest of the idiots upstairs. You've done everything I've asked for six months, and stuff I haven't asked for, you haven't complained, you've had your head down and got it done. Some people far more stupid than me might actually think you were enjoying it.”

“Believe it or not, I am.”

“But why?” She pushed the chow mein around her plate. 

“I was married. I am married, actually. He's a big deal in organised crime, moves things around, makes things disappear. Money, drugs, people, gold, you name it. The Park were watching the gang, he made me doctor some images and change some tracking details to throw them off. Taverner found out it was me.”

“Did they get him?”

“Only on a lesser charge. A few of the lads went down for him on the big stuff.”

“He’s a bully then. Must be if he got his underlings to go down for him?” Ella swallowed thickly. 

“Yeah. He doesn't like… disobedience.” 

“Where is he now?”

“Serving a year, but he might be out by now.”

“And Taverner sent you to me. Why didn't she have you charged?”

“My dad is a copper. Between them they made it go away.”

“Bet daddy dearest was happy about that.”

“I wouldn't know, I haven't seen him for years.”

“Disowned and yet he still saved you from the clink, eh?”

“Something like that.”

“What a pickle you're in. A fallen woman, pushed from a life of luxury into squalor. You should write a book. Make sure there's lots of pictures though, otherwise Cartwright won't be able to read it.” He laughed loudly at his own joke and followed it up with a belch. “C'mon eat up. Will he come after you?” 

“I've been staying low, I know a few people who are listening out for me,” Ella thought of Sofia and Lulu, teasing any snippets of information from clients they knew of who had links to him. Lamb nodded, seemingly happy enough with her response. 

“We'll see, shall we? And the money?”

“I ran away with nothing. I've had to get deposits and advance rent together, it's just been a bit hard that's all.”

“Let's call this your six month probationary review, eh? Congratulations, you've passed and it comes with a payrise effective right now.” He pulled a battered wallet from his pocket and handed her a wad of notes.

“No, that's not right -”

“You're on less than the others, even Dander and she's only about twelve. Someone fucked up on payroll. Accept it and say thank you, Lamb.”

“Thank you, Lamb.”

“You're welcome, now this ain't a fucking charity so that's your lot. Sort your shit out and don't bring it to my door.” Ella hesitated, feeling like she should acknowledge Clover somehow. 

“Just so you know, if everything did go to shit -”

“Oh fuck off, Standish can keep your fucking cat if the ex offs you.”

“I have a daughter.” Lamb stared. 

“What do you want? A medal?” His cutlery clattered onto the empty plate. “Alright. Say no more.”

“Thank you.” 

“Don't get all fucking weepy, you're better than that. Pull yourself together and get back to work.” Ella nodded and got up from the table, leaving Lamb alone with the leftovers and his thoughts. 

*

Feeling  buoyed by her conversation with Lamb, Ella took advantage of Cartwright going to get a coffee and called the letting agent. She was halfway through giving them an earful when he returned. She knew he was eavesdropping, the page he was reading hadn't turned despite only having a handful of text on it. Unless Lamb had been right and he couldn't read. 

“Look, you owe me that money, that flat was not fit to be lived in. I have photos from the day I moved in, I have my hospital records which show I had three successive chest infections caused by black mould and I have a solicitor who specialises in getting deposits back from fraudulent landlords. I will put those pictures on every single platform I can and tell everyone that you're putting children at risk.” She kept her voice low but it dripped with anger. The monotonous voice on the end of the phone barely registered her threats. Ella balled her hand into a fist and bit down on it to keep from shouting. She didn't notice River get up from his desk until he was leaning over hers to pluck the phone from her ear. 

“Pay her the fucking money back or I'll be down your office in an hour with the police.” Ella stared, River listened to the response. “I don't give a shit how long it's supposed to take, it's taken long enough.” There was silence again while he waited, tapping his long fingers on her desk. She watched his hand, not daring to look up at him. “Thank you.” He handed her the phone. “Check your account,” he left the call connected while Ella opened her banking app. Her jaw dropped, confirming the payment had been received. He took the phone back again, “That's come through. See how easy it was? Don't let it happen again.” When he passed her the phone again, she flinched. “Sorry, I shouldn't have interfered.”

“It's fine. Thank you.”

“You should go and get the cash out, hang on to it.” Ella frowned. Her new cash is king world was still taking some adjustment. She'd been so used to waving a platinum credit card, her phone, her watch, at a pin machine. She was amazed at how quickly she'd become frugal. The watch and her latest model phone - traded in for a basic handset - had been sold to buy a bed.

“Yeah, you're probably right.” She sighed heavily, an odd feeling settling in her chest that she couldn't quite place. Relief. For the first time in months she felt relieved. 

 

She didn't abandon her vigilance entirely, but between telling Lamb and Cartwright - a duo she never envisaged being remotely trustworthy - the bare minimum, she relaxed enough to be able to sleep at night. She ensured that her private life remained completely private. No one but Lamb knew of her ex, and no one else other than Lamb and Cartwright knew about Clover, and she intended to keep it that way. But she found herself drawn to swapping book recommendations with Catherine, and even the constant arguments between Marcus and Shirley occasionally raised a smile. And then of course, there was Lamb. 

“Turnock’s fucking teacakes?”

“They were out of jaffa cakes.”

“And you see me eatin’ marshmallow do ya?”

“Don’t turn your nose up. What’s the suitable alternative?”

“I dunno Cole, use your brain. Knew I shouldn't have told you you had half an extra brain cell than the others.”

“Hobnobs. Shall I get you some hobnobs?”

“Fucking hobnobs,” Lamb grumbled, pouring a scotch from the fresh bottle he pulled out from the bag. “Least you got the scotch.”

“As if I'd leave you hanging there.” Ella put her hand on the box of teacakes, intent on taking them back downstairs to have one with a cup of tea.

“Leave the teacakes.” He eyed her though the bottom of the glass.

“Thought so.”

“Jaffa cakes tomorrow or you’re out of here. Got it?”

“Jaffa cakes tomorrow.” She agreed. He ripped open the box.

“Oi here y’are.” She caught the airborne red and silver wrapped teacake he threw at her and beamed.

“Cheers, Lamb.”

“Off you fuck, work to do.” Ella slipped through his office door and gave Catherine a wave on her way down the stairs. She managed to find two reasonably clean mugs and made tea, popping one on the desk next to hers and one on her own desk. Headphones on, she unwrapped the chocolate covered marshmallow and took a bite.

“Bit early isn’t it?” 

“Cartwright, there is no early when chocolate is involved.” She dragged off the headset and let it hang around her neck.

“Did you get me one?” 

“Nope.” 

“So that’s how it is?”

“I made you tea.” She popped the last bite into her mouth and nodded at his desk. Next to the mug of tea was a packet of hobnobs. He smiled, small, but a smile nonetheless.

“Thanks, Cole. Still sucking up to Lamb?”

“It’s not sucking up, he actually likes me. You’ll never know what that feels like.” She put her hand to her heart and pouted. “Sucks to be you.”

“See all you've done there is lure yourself into a false sense of security,” he opened the packet and snapped a biscuit in half, dunking it in the tea, “he doesn’t like anyone.” Catherine made her way through the maze of offices with a pile of files. 

“Morning you two. Thank you for the book, Ella, very enjoyable. These are tax returns from the early 90s relating to the Havilland job.”

“Love a dodgy tax return,” Ella gratefully received her half. “I'll bring you the next in the series if you like?”

“Lovely, I've passed the first one onto Louisa.”

“That's great, I told her she'd love it.” Ella smiled. River frowned. 

“Since when is anyone actually nice to each other around here?” He muttered holding the second half of his biscuit in the tea for a fraction too long. It broke off with a solemn plop into the liquid. “Bollocks.” Since Lamb had taken a chance, Ella thought to herself. Since she'd allowed herself to feel the tiniest modicum of joy that she'd managed to escape from hell and had survived. It was far better than the self-flagellation she'd gone for originally, there might be a mountain to climb but she had to celebrate the achievement of making it to base camp. That evening, come 5pm, there was a mass exodus from Slough House and after six shit months and one less shit, almost verging on normal month, Ella felt able to actually smile at her colleagues as they departed. She walked down the slippery stairs with River, into the evening rain. 

“See you Monday,” she said, opening her umbrella. He was looking past her at the bus stop. “Oi, dickhead, see you Monday?”

“Yeah, Monday.” His brow furrowed as he looked not quite at her, his attention still on the bus stop.

“Cartwright?”

“Do you need a lift to the school? It's pissing down.”

“No thanks, I'll live. You're going to the pub with Louisa anyway.”

“You should come next time.” He said, finally looking directly at her. 

“We'll see. I should go.” 

“Have a good one.”

“You too.” He watched her leave, walking in the opposite direction of the bus stop where the figure he'd been watching had vanished. 

Chapter 2

[thethirdromana]

Some Beetle covers, assessed

This book is about a beetle

A good two-thirds of Beetle covers take this approach, including the first edition on the left. And you know what, I can't fault it. This book sure does have a beetle in it. Bonus points for the middle one that draws on the hypnosis theme by making the beetle look like a brain.

Maybe an Egyptian beetle?

This is essentially the same approach, but more Egyptian, which I think looks very stylish. Given late Victorian Egyptomania, I'm surprised there aren't more like this. I could imagine a luxury edition with lots of gold really making this concept work.

Specifically involving a woman with a beetle on her forehead

This is an arresting image that's also sort-of justified by events in the book. It took me forever to realise what it reminded me of, and it's of course the poster for the Silence of the Lambs, which postdates both of these covers by about half a century. These are two quite sulky-looking Marjories, but perhaps that's the effect of hypnosis.

The cover illustrator read the book!

Given these covers minus the title, I think I would still have a solid chance of guessing which book they were for. The blue cover is the fully illustrated version. But actually, I think my favourite on this theme is redhaired Marjorie being menaced by the Beetle while Sydney tiptoes over in evening dress, both looking they could be in the opening credits of a Bond movie.

The cover illustrator didn't read the book

A very small part of the novel takes place in a railway station. None of it takes place in a cemetery, nor does it involve a hermit studying anatomy. With the whole world of royalty-free images of beetles to choose from, how does anyone land on any of these?

The cover illustrator really, really didn't read the book

Here we have the Beetle as represented by some Taiwanese houses, as True Blood, and as a picture that I vaguely recognise but where the image is so fried I can't even google it to check. At least the previous three had semi-appropriate spooky London vibes; these appear to be entirely random.

How about a bonus subtitle?

The first one here is clearly the weakest of the three, since it just features a picture of Richard Marsh's face, but is redeemed by choosing possibly the most metal line in the novel as its subtitle. I love both of the latter two, with a special mention to the illustrator of the middle one for actually depicting the Beetle's human form as described in the Beetle while also minimising the elements of racist caricature. No mean feat.

The cover illustrator understood the assignment

When I wrote something similar to this about Dracula covers, I was quite critical of the illustrators who decided to depict it as pulp horror. But it is so much more fitting for The Beetle. If you're drawn to buy Scantily Clad Woman Is Menaced By Giant Beetle, or Weirdly Green Man is Terrified of Mural, or even Rasputin And His Giant Beetle Spell, I feel like you genuinely might be the right audience for this terrible, terrible book.

[lizzie-wendigo]

First image of the year!!

Well, as I mentioned before, I know I'm making this Meme very late, but I didn't feel like doing it until now. And I received some proposals from my followers, some interesting, others boring and others... curious (impossible/ridiculous).

The sad thing was that despite all those suggestions, none seemed interesting enough to draw, but I used them as a base to see what other fanarts could be interesting to do, and that's how I came to this!

Wadanohara and the Great Blue Sea: Samekichi

I never played the game, but I saw the full gameplay and read the manga, and it's extremely incredible! Samekichi is a sweetheart, and I loved this character since his first appearance.

The amazing Digital Circus: Pomni

Yup, until a few days ago I just saw the pilot. Needless to say, why I didn't want to give it a chance. The fandom's much worse than I thought, and that repelled me from watching TADC, a complete shame. I'll do a few sketches in the future along with a constructive opinion on it (unless some toxic guy shows up first)

Boku No Hero Academia: Tetsutestu Tetsutestu

BNHA fans will understand me. He's like Kirishima, but with a different font. He's on my list of Husbandos, and I find it funny to compare him to a silverback gorilla.

The Cult Of the Lamb: Lamb

I haven't played the game either, but I've seen gameplays and it's very interesting, I think it's cute and creepy at the same time

Wander Over Yonder: Dominator

I was always a fan of the series, and in my innocence I expected another season that never came. And I always loved this character, she's bad just for being bad. Ironically, I shiped her with Wander, and I still like the ship.

Undetrale: Gaster

I only drew this character once, I have a whole personal theory that fits with my undertale AU, but I still need to polish it. But I have found this character interesting since I entered the undertale fandom.

Comment which fanart I made seems best to you! :D

[revevoire]

!!! || Introductionary ✧⁠*⁠。

------------------------------------× " Two of hearts — Two hearts that beat as one . " ×------------------------------------

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×[ A new chapter ] — Likes and Dislikes

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× Extra Information .⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ • If I'm uncomfortable with you, I'll most likely ignore you . I don't usually block people . [ But if I don't respond immediately, just know I'm usually quite busy. So it's most likely because I'm doing something ! ] • If you do an art request, there's a high chance that I'll do the request late. For the same reason that I'm busy, and for the fact that I like to take my time in doing things. • I love Akatsuki. × Follow my other socials! .⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ • Twitter / X : @ revevoire • Discord : revvevoire • YT : revevoire • BSky : revevoire • Wattpad : revvevoire • TikTok : revevoire • Strawpage: revvevoire.straw.page • Roblox: PoliceraFoxYsa

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⁠✧⁠*⁠。We'll meet again on a sunny day ~ ------------------------------------- × END ×

[plzhearmeout]

Bastards & Broken Things

Sandor Clegane x Original Female Character

~Chapter One~

Summary: Reina Rivers returns to Westeros, disguised as a noblewoman with an offer of marriage for King Joffrey. Joffrey's hound catches her eye, and she catches his.

CW: Minors PLEASE Go Away, violence, description of injury, angst, Cersei & Joffrey, no smut yet but there will be so once again MDNI, language, age gaps

Note: This is dedicated to @broadsdrinkwhisky and @mnspell! Thank you so much for being the first to read this and for giving me the confidence to post it!

Reina grabbed Arya's arm, taking off across the rocky landscape to the symphony of swords clashing. Pursuing footsteps picked up behind them, but she didn't look back. Couldn't look back. If she did, she wouldn't be able to make herself leave Sandor, no matter how fearsome he was in a fight. She focused on Arya as the girl overtook her, on the way Podrick's gaining on her made her feel like a lamb in the jaws of a lion.

"Are you afraid, little lamb?" Sandor's voice echoed in her head. She clenched her jaw, pushing herself up the hill, forcing her feet to quicken their pace. Today, she would not be the lamb, she thought. She would be the lion, no matter what it took.

They crested the hill, and Reina pulled Arya behind a large rock, crouching down as Podrick passed. She grasped the hilt of the dagger Sandor had pressed into her hand the night before and braced herself, but Podrick passed them by and disappeared from sight. She let out a breath.

The sounds of battle echoed across the rocks. Reina hoped it would be enough to cover their footfalls as they made their escape, enough to draw Podrick back to his mentor. They started to move, but she paused when she heard Sandor shout. "He can handle it," Arya said. But Reina was already notching her arrow once more.

"I won't leave him alone." Arya's mouth tightened, and Reina could see her indecision in her eyes. "Do what you must, and so will I." She turned around, and her heart ached when she heard Arya's footsteps retreating in the opposite direction, but she had her own mission in mind. She said a quick prayer for Arya's safety, and quickened her pace.

As she came up the slope, she spotted Sandor and Brienne at the cliff's edge. Brienne was screaming, hitting Sandor again and again. Reina drew her arrow, took aim, and fired. But she was too late. Even as her arrow struck the gap in armor at Brienne's shoulder, Sandor tumbled over the edge of the cliff. She cried out, and there was a great thud as he landed on the rocks below.

Podrick reappeared, running to Brienne's side as she grasped her shoulder, and Reina nearly fell in her scramble across the rocks. She slid down the hill. Dust rose into the air in her wake, and she couldn't reach Sandor fast enough.

"Sandor!" She knelt next to him and he coughed, blood spewing from his mouth.

"I told you to go," he wheezed. She cupped his face in her hands, and he grasped at her wrists. His hold was weak.

"If you really think I'd leave you, you're mad." She took in his condition, his bloodied face and the bone protruding from his thigh. If she could find Stranger, if she could get him into the saddle-

"I know what you're thinking, lamb," Sandor said, voice rasping, "it won't work." Reina fought the tears that gathered in her eyes.

"I could make a litter and Stranger could drag you-"

"It won't work!" Sandor squeezed her hand with all his might, his voice sharp. He coughed again, more blood bubbling past his lips. "Unless there's a maester hiding behind these rocks, I'm done," he said. His hand loosened around hers, but Reina held tight. "I'm ready. Just... just do it. Kill me." He may as well have struck her.

"Sandor, you can't ask me this." She shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Anything but this."

"You know where the heart is?" He dragged her hand to rest on his chest, holding it there so his heart beat against her palm. He winced as he reached for the dagger at her waist, pressing it into her other hand. "Strike true," he said, words slurring and eyes threatening to roll back, "it'll be quick. Quicker than this." Reina's hands shook. She lifted the knife, staring at the place where his armor had bent out of place, his shirt hanging open to reveal his bare chest. She imagined his heart beneath his skin, unsteady and struggling, and she imagined her blade sinking into it.

The dagger clattered against the ground, a sob ripping from her. He cradled the back of her head as she leaned against him, and there was forgiveness in his touch. Reina pressed her ear to his chest, clinging to him as the sun sank and darkness fell. She listened to the beat of his heart, holding onto hope even as it slowed, and stopped.

Sandor drifted, sinking into darkness.

He was a young man when they met, though the hands of time would crumble the memory and let it sift through the fingers of his mind like sand. It was a festival, or maybe a tourney, and it was crowded, the air buzzing with excitement. Nobles and smallfolk alike parted before Sandor like wheat under the scythe. And yet, she walked out in front of him, no fear in her eyes even as she bounced off of his armored chest and fell to the ground.

"Apologies, Ser," she said, rubbing her sore shoulder. Sandor scowled.

"Don't call me that," he snapped, as if her words were a great insult. He walked away, leaving her in the dirt.

He didn’t realize until some time later that his coin purse was missing, at which point the girl’s face had disappeared from his mind, leaving only the memory of sandy blonde hair. If he reached out, perhaps he could touch the memory. He thought it might be warm, like light at his fingertips, but he couldn’t move.

Sandor drifted, and darkness overtook him.

In his memory, they met in the throne room of the Red Keep, the King standing between them and the Iron Throne looming over them. She was beautiful, and too soft for the web of lies that made up King’s Landing.

“What is the meaning of this?” The King walked towards them, and Sandor followed. Cersei presented the girl like a prized lamb brought for the slaughter.

“A gift from your grandfather,” she said, “a marriage proposition from Volantis.” The girl stood tall and straight, unflinching even as Joffrey looked her over.

“I’m already engaged,” Joffrey said, but he didn’t dismiss them. There was a hunger in his expression that should have frightened the girl.

“To a traitor,” Cersei countered. She touched Joffrey’s shoulder, leaning in as he observed the girl before him. She showed no sign of discomfort, and Sandor couldn’t help but be impressed. “If you accept this offer,” Cersei said, “you could form a valuable alliance that may very well turn the tides of this war. Your victory would be celebrated.”

Joffrey considered his mother’s words, none the wiser to her manipulation. Inexplicably, Sandor almost wanted to say something, to cut the lamb loose and let it escape the knife, but he stayed quiet. Joffrey stepped forward, and the girl didn’t flinch as he took her hand. She even managed a smile when he pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

"What is your name, my lady?"

With a curtsy, the girl replied, and her voice was steady and sweet. "Reina Maegyr, your grace."

Author's Note: Hello! If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! This is just the beginning and will be my first time posting a multi chapter fic, so your patience is appreciated! If you want to check out my AO3, I will be posting this there as well under msmrvl. I'm so excited for the future of this story, and so grateful for anyone along for the ride! ilysm 💕

[mercysought]

drabble between Asharen and Cole, discussing Rift Magic in Skyhold and the meaning of purpose

   "Asharen."

The voice is sudden, and impactful, making her jump out of her own body and making her turn on her knees to face the voice. Cole was a bean-sprout of a spirit, thin, lanky and tall - and much like any sprout looking for any source of warmth.

   "Creators!" she sneers, leaning down to grab her staff and dragging it closer across the stone. The library underneath Skyhold was a perfect place to hide, hide from most of other soldiers, hide if she needed a quick nap, hide if she wanted to do something that she shouldn't be doing instead of sleeping "Cole!"

She calls, half laughing, half exasperated. Jumping to her feet she cleans off the dust from her robes.

   "Thought you were Josie," she feels more guilty when the words come out of her mouth. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate Josephine's protests and demands that she should rest, however, her day only had so many hours and if she wanted to spend some of them doing her own investigations then she needed to make sure that she fit it somewhere.

Sometimes the sacrificial lamb was sleep.

   "Don't sneak up on me like that!" she whispers, slowly walking closer to him with a larger smile.

Truth be told, she was glad that he was there. Cole had this way of knowing when people needed him most, and in this case, he knew that she worked through her thoughts best when she had another to talk to. She could call Solas, but she had this nagging feeling that he too would take Josie's stance. While she would have loved his company, at this late hour she would have expected him to be planning his newest mural while dreaming.

   "I'm sorry." he whispers, now matching her tone and hunching down. Pale eyes look to her from beneath the wide-brim hat "It's late, I thought you might want company."

   "Yes." she beacons him closer, turning once more to where she had been leaning "Yes, let me show you what I found out."

The floor of the underground library was covered in dust with the exception for the Inquisitor's footprints. She had tied the bottom edges of her robes up on her belt to avoid disturbing it more. In the absence of a place to write, when forgetting a notebook, she had taken to taking quick notes and alterations on the dust. Not long lasting, but enough to put into practice some theories that were not meant to last long anyway.

   "I found this small tear, earlier." she whispers, leaning down against the two collapsing bookcases of books that had been too damaged for her to successfully pull out. That was how she had initially found it. Having discovered this space, she had taken upon herself to attempt to parse through it. Well, attempt truly being the operative word.

It was small and unstable tear. No larger than the palm of her hand. It had been a dull pulse on her wrist that had warned her of its presence. Standing to the side, she allows Cole to peek "Usually I would close it without a thought, but... I was thinking —"

Asharen sits where she had. Around the area where the dust had not been collected (where the Inquisitor had been sitting) multiple runes and drawings could be seen. Some areas had been completely wiped clean. Sitting once more, she crosses her legs, beckoning Cole to join and sit beside her by the green light of the crackling tear. Small sparks poured from Asharen's hand; if she looked bothered she didn't look it.

   "The Veil is like..." pausing, she glances up to Cole, making sure that he was paying attention, if he was still interested. Not everyone would, she knew. But Cole looked at her fully, interested, attention solely on her as her fingers went down to the floor, in a surrounding area with dust drawing multiple crossing squares "A fishing net."

Drawing around a grid of eight small squares, all corners touching each other she stops, finger still on the floor, eyes lifting to him.

   "It has weaves, each interlaced in a thin enough manner as to allow for movement from one side to the other through its larger spaces. Like water, or in this case... something else." she wasn't quite sure what it was, truth was told. It was not air for air existed in both instances; an easy answer would be just magic but that answer too was unsatisfactory. She draws arrows from the left and to the right and vice versa. Eyes glance up to Cole once more, and he nods.

Still, the thought stood: thin, carefully crafted, lightweight. The Veil stood as a very thin layer between the world that Cole had come from and their own.

   "The tears happen when," she starts erasing some of the lines "these links are broken. Worse than broken," with the base of her fist, she erases whole parts, enough to keep some links together but jagged in a way that a pulled apart tapestry was "they are ripped across multiple levels causing the space between to become unstable. Dangerous" dangerous enough to explode at the smallest aspects of magic, substances such as lyrium. When large enough, enough to allow for spirits and demons alike to cross and do untold damage to themselves and others. Light eyes, lift and she smiles - knowingly "to anyone that doesn't have this:"

She lifts the hand where the anchor shone brightly a dull, green dangerous light.

   "The anchor."

   "Yes. The anchor." she nods "Like a fine needle, it seems this was designed specifically with this in mind. One end to weave, another one to potentially tear."

She pauses, turning her own hand to see. The other hand touches it. Even with the sparks it felt like... like nothing truly. It felt like touching her own hands in the strangest of ways. Whatever material it was lodged within, shinning brightly, felt warm to the touch as it would skin and yet - all at once - it was... foreign. Snapping back, she feels Cole's eyes on her once more "But, but-!" she restarts, smiling and growing further as she gets up "Do you want to see something cool?"

Cole nods and her smile curls further as her hand goes to the small pouch by her belt. From inside she removes a small shard of glass. She had spoken with Dagna, though their discussions were frankly too short to produce exactly what they both wanted. Still, this was the fourth attempt at something that Asharen had thought up. Turning, she holds it in between her thumb and indicator.

   "After the last lesson with Solas, I was thinking about this..." she hums, lifting the small shard and moving the hand with the mark behind her back. In the air as she did, thin lines of green crossed upon the air. It was a slow process, each time it was done the letters were jagged "Rift magic deals in much the same way with the veil, we pull and push across the veil. Weaving and unweaving in a controlled manner. It needs to be precise, careful. The cuts need to be thin enough and careful enough, so that to not disrupt the balance and disrupt the user or have unintended effects."

Pausing, she turns to Cole. The green light from the runes gives him a sickly hue though from this angle it illuminates his face completely. The runes seem to keep his focus and so she continues.

   "Rift magic does not become unstable because there is that balance." she smiles, finishing writing "Which means..."

The runes disappear, like a finely woven end; and the small tear reacts. It pulls on itself, thinning for a second while the sparks seem to grow more intense. After a second, it returns once more to its original size, as loud as it had been originally. Sighing, Asharen places the thin piece back in the pouch, scratching the side of her head. The braids had long become undone; after all, she had initially been prepared for sleep.

   "It... doesn't quite work yet. I'm still working on it, but theoretically?..." pausing, she smiles to Cole "The anchor is a shortcut. But anyone could do this, close a tear, using specific runes and Rift Magic." or cause them. But that was a thought and concern for another time. When they didn't have a large Breach already opened in the sky. The most important aspect was that perhaps even people without magic could, perhaps, do this "Carefully enough. This is a small tear, but it's possible."

She needed to try again, take notes, and take them to Dagna. Truthfully, she should close this small tear and wait until another one similar to it could happen. Silentely praying she hopes that it could do so in her quarters so she wouldn't need to sneak out.

   "Like the first beam of sunlight after a dark morning: she gazes upon the world with a light anew. The world remained the same, turning the same, but it felt so much warmer, welcoming. Brighter. It shines because you shine brightly upon it too. This. This is what I was made to do! This is my purpose."

Asharen looks to Cole who seems to beam at her through the dull green light. She hadn't quite thought of it that way. The thought of purpose was never one that she had ever given much thought, never a topic that she felt was of true use given the life that she led before Inquisition. The clan needed to survive and she was needed. But she was there, needing to close the Breach and her clan survived still. Sitting besides Cole, she looks at the small breach and then back to Sole, giving him a huge side hug.

   "Yes, Cole, that sounds exactly right."

[cetra]

OC + Random Associations

[Image ID: A banner for my original character named Killian. To the left is a circle containing a portrait of a saint. Extending from the circle towards the right is a painting of gold stardust against a black backdrop. Towards the middle of the banner is the name “Killian” written in a zany typeface. /End ID.]

thank you @perpetuagf for tagging me to do this!! I went with Killian again sorry i know I'm being really annoying about him 😭🧡 and it was so fun.... ugh... we're so back. Tagging anyone who wants to do it + some of the usual suspects who do the OC thing @dekarios @avallachs @camelliagwerm @gwynbleidd @mightymizora @mythrae @sleepsvessel @dragonssxheart @latenna @dekariosgale @euryalex @loveofdetail @nightwardenminthara @stwaidwen @glamfellens @margaritalaux-antille @killerspinal @bladeofavernus @katagawajr @katsigian Sorry if i forgot to tag you I'm so out of the loop on here and i should probably be in bed by now, okay let's go

Animal: Lamb, several birds (doves, geese, kestrels), donkeys

Colors: Gold, black, brown, yellow

Month: in a world with our calendar, probably August

Songs: The Valley by The Oh Hellos, Holy Lands by Bill Miller, White as Snow by Rivers & Robots, Chains by Radical Face, Out of Our Heads by Sheryl Crow, UGH SO MANY GOOD ONES

Number: 2/two

Plants: Lilys, daisies, palms, chrysanthemums

Smells: Burnt wood, parchment, various oils

Gemstone: hmmm I'm not sure actually. something gold

Time of day: Late afternoon going into the evening when the sun casts a golden glow over everything, aka Killian's favorite time to nap

Season: Summer despite being born in Winter

Places: His home village especially on the riverbank and his father's tavern. once he ventured around the land he loved the ocean

Food: Meat, cheese, bread, starchy vegetables, apples, dried fruits, nuts, peppers, olives..... and he has a bit of a sweet tooth

Drinks: hot chocolate, cider, wine

Element: maybe air/wind

Seasonings: Assuming this includes spices and condiments etc. i'm thinking sea salt, cumin, nutmeg, and mustard seed

Sky: the summer sky especially when it's golden hour or like around the time I said he loved to take a nap

Weather: Sunny, warm or temperate

Magical power: Glowing and levitating (Believe it or not despite being probably the most powerful person in my world, he actually uses magic very infrequently lol)

Weapons: Knives/daggers, bow & arrow

Candy: Dried fruit if it counts, candied fruit peels, caramel, honeycomb

Method of long distance travel: Horseback or boat

Artstyle: oil paintings, tapestries, illuminated manuscripts, carved wood and stone, ancient cave drawings, much of my world can be inspired by the Book of Kells if that gives you a good idea

Fear: Failure, absolutely. failure!!!

Mythological creature: maybe a seraphim?

Piece of stationary: Parchment paper

Three Emojis: ☀️🕊️🗡️

Celestial body: yes..... the sun

Thanks for reading about my boy

[archaeren]

Hi Ren,

it's lavenderlight over from ao3!

I'm crossing my fingers that the infamous tumblr-ask-box-situation won't swallow my message! xD

I hope I'm not overstepping (and I don't expect a reply) but I just thought I'd check in - I know you've got discord but I don't think I have the spoons currently to make an account lol

So, good old tumblr it is :D

Anyway - I wanted to wish you happy holidays and let you know that I've been thinking of you (and your depiction of Chui ( 〃▽〃) ) and that LC:LS meant quite a lot to me over the past year - and continues to mean a lot to me.

Honestly, I keep thinking (constantly!!) about all of the chapters so far, imagining how the story might unfold in the future -

So, yeah. I hope you're doing alright and I'll look forward to any possible updates!! <3

Wishing you nice company, a warm blanket and a hot drink of your choice for the holidays!!

OMG hello!! You're not overstepping at all, this is so sweet aaaaa!! <3 <3 <3 I don't know how to say that it means a lot to me that the story matters to you so much. I look forward to your comments on every chapter SO MUCH, they're so thorough and thoughtful, every one of them is like a little gift. I'm so curious what other kinds of things you find yourself thinking about the chapters so far and the ones that have yet to come! It really does mean a lot to know someone else is thinking about it so much. It's a rarepair--the number of English language authors including the migikisa ship at all (let alone focusing on it) can be counted on one hand!--in a tiny fandom. (Someone recently asked me about how many longfics were in the Eng JJ fandom and I was able to rattle off all their titles and author names... because there are only three of them, and one of them is mine. XD) In such a niche pairing, it's easy to feel lonely, especially as one of the sole creators for it. You can't help but wonder sometimes if other people think you're weird or even annoying for being so invested. It can feel isolating. So for someone to say it means that much to them... it's really validating. <3 I got a bit sidetracked lately by doing fanart instead of writing, which is most of why I haven't updated recently. The art brain has a stranglehold on the writing brain! (I started writing again on Friday so I could update on Sunday and then on Saturday I was gripped by the drive to draw Chui as a character from Cult of the Lamb and that consumed my entire weekend... oops.) Actually, you're the one that inspired that art shift. It was that comment you left on Chapter 14, where you mentioned reading a quote that said, “People hate their own art because it looks like they made it. They think if they get better, it will stop looking like they made it. A better person made it. But there’s no level of skill beyond which you stop being you. You hate the most valuable thing about your art.” I thought about that a lot after you said it and it really changed my perspective on my own art. I draw more now than I have in years, and I usually even like what I draw! Even though I can still see its flaws and still see my own influence on it, I've really made a lot of peace with that. It's been really eye-opening and empowering. I really want to get an LC:LS update out today or tomorrow because we're finally hitting the winter performance and the timeline of coinciding with IRL Christmas is just too good. I wish I could post one today and one tomorrow for the timing but I'm not sure I'll have time to finish them both and I'm not sure people would have time to read them anyway! I will probably content myself with one. XD Anyway, if you ever do decide to make a discord I would love to talk more! You can also just lurk in the server that's linked on LC:LS, though I feel like you would be a great addition to the culture c: Thank you so much again for messaging and I hope you have a wonderful holiday (with a few moments to spare for thinking Chui thoughts! I know I will be, hehe <3 )

[ask-theredcrown]

*The daily note.... It's late today. Is that a bad thing? The note itself is fine, as always... It's still impossible to tell where these are coming from. Maybe this person is above you? Maybe they're... Using some sort of magic? Maybe it's best not to ask... It's fine though, atleast you have someone to... Relate too... Probably... "Before I was sent here" was on the last note. Maybe you could ask about that again... Though, like you said. You can't find him in your realm. All of this is just a big mess of confusion, really. Anyways, I'll stop talking. The note is what you're after. I'm just a narrator after all.*

*We always have tomorrow anyways... Now... The note.*

"Heeyyyy, Nari, my friend! Hope you're still doing good while I'm writing this.

I'm doing alright, I'm growing in power by the day. I might be able to send another note to you too, so we can have a bit longer of a conversation... If thats what we call this. You know the drill by now, incase you forgot, just talk. I can hear you just fine through this paper. Magic is weird, isn't it?

Escaping is going to be easier too, if I just keep waiting, keep gaining power, this all of this would be better.

Anyways, back to you. I've been listening to you conversate with those... Shadow's. "Anons" I believe they're called. Telling you something about a Kallamar? And you spoke of them being your sibling? I'm guessing they're somewhat protective of you. Do they think you're dead, too? Reminds me of Him. Your siblings do atleast.

I saw that Lamb you speak of. He seems cute. Or she? I could not tell from here. Enlighten me will you? Despite this, I like them. They could be useful to me... Possibly. Worry not, I dont need a vessel. You wouldn't understand."

*The page has to be flipped.*

"Today I'll be able to send you another note. So ask me a question, I need something to talk about. It's restoring my sanity... Ha. Ironic.

Oh and before I forget, maybe get that Lamb to get one of his followers, or I guess they're your followers too but whatever. Get them to find a cemetery in darkwood. Let them embrace the warmth and their new h o m e . I need their bodies for their energy, and power...

Anyways, like I said. Ask me something if you wish, and get that Lamb to send someone out. I need power too, you can't hog it all."

*The signature is the same. Just a dash, and a small drawing of a tombstone. This time, with a crown drawing next to it. It's similar to the crown on Lambs head, just the eye is dark grey...*

@tomb-the-god

"As always, I am doing perfectly fine. A relapse here and there, but nothing much for someone who has been doing this for millenia."

"I assume we can call this a conversation, just not a conventional one. I am glad to hear that you are good, and growing in power. That is a mutual goal of ours, if I am allowed to say that."

"Shadows, souls, whatever you wish to call them, they talk to me, and sometimes, I talk to them too. At first I believed that they were pigments of my imagination only, and thaat I was finally coming to madness. But apparently not, they are real and each one has their own conscience. Sometimes they can be a little too... Weird. But I have become used to them now."

Narinder finishes reading the letter, putting it down and closing his eyes.

"Kallamar, yes.. He is my brother, one of the nasty bugs that put me in this place... He knows I am alive, hoping and praying every day that I don't wake up again in the same realm as him... As for the Lamb, my vessel, they are not a man, nor a woman, but I will ask you take your eyes off of them, I will not permit distractions upon them."

"A question? Hm, I suppose I have one, yes. I still do not understand your situation. Dead? Alive? Do you even know where you are? Are you able to see, even?"

[justaduckarts]

What if. . What if Star holder au had a reverse/swap au? How different would it be?

Hello!

I'm honestly not TOO clear on what this means. My best guess is that you mean something similar to Underswap? So I will work under this assumption (feel free to send another ask correcting me, I won't mind)

Heads up, SH spoilers below (up to the most recent update, no farther):

Star Holder would have gone to Moon, not Sun. HOWEVER since this is a swap and not Dad Moon, Sun would be right- Moon wouldn't be a very good dad due to the way he still feels Emily's loss. Likely, he'd constantly draw comparisons and find the Star Holder doesn't hold up.

Because of these shortcomings, the Star Holder would be less of a sheltered lamb and more of a hardened little go-getter. Probably much more skilled in the Star's gifts. Rough n tumble, but not mean.

Since this is a swap, Sun was the less favored child. Instead of Solaris taking out his frustration on Eclipse, he favored Eclipse for having the gift of fire and Sun kinda... didn't get much of daddy's attention >.> This has actually made him a much more focused leader. He's a bit of a micromanager, actually. ^^' He does get to paint in his spare time tho

Eclipse received so much attention and praise and he... hated it actually. There was a lot of pressure on him to succeed and become the next leader of the pantheon- something he thought he wanted. But the role drove a huge wedge between him and his brother and he didn't even realize it until it was far too late :')

This is where Afton comes in- in a desperate bid to find a way to fix things for Sun, Eclipse sneaks into Luna's office to make a deal with Afton (only, he's a bit older than Sun was. And he also knows what he's doing.)

Well, that was a huge mistake wasn't it?

Eclipse steadily becomes just as paranoid as his father and he's pretty terrible. Unwilling to let anyone into his heart. Well. For now :)

Lunar and Pluto will be switching places. <3

Pluto doesn't attack Moon or become imprisoned; instead she simply leaves the pantheon after Eclipse's terrible leadership causes the lead spill that takes away Lunar's family. She's disgusted with his behavior.

Lunar, for his part, is imprisoned after a much more direct confrontation. Pluto, seeing Lunar as a misguided youth, decides to break him out (which takes considerable effort).

Over all, the whole pantheon is lacking in some deeply needed compassion.

Eclipse actually chooses to have the star made because he thinks (thanks to Afton) that the star will grant his wish and turn back the clock so he can do it over better. It makes him a more reckless leader- because he believes he will be able to remedy it all later.

Sun and Moon actually fight with Eclipse to stop him from using the star because they KNOW he's up to something, but don't know what. The attack is a deep betrayal that confirms all of Eclipse's paranoid thoughts and makes him shift from apologetic to heart broken.

A demon is born when a god falls into the depths of despair.

What could be more despairiung than losing your friends and brother in one go? :)

That's right baby- Eclipse is fully possessed by the time SH comes knockin'. And why are they there?

Because he called to them to heal an injured friend, of course.

Who is the friend?

Aurelia. (Do you see where I'm going with this?)

Julian is Sun's friend! Millie is still in the Luna temple, though she and Moon have a much more professional relationship.

I have so many more thoughts about how this COULD play out, but I'd love to hear some of everyone else's. I think the thing I love the most about Star Holder and it's adjacent AUs is getting to hear other people speculate what could be <3

Hope you enjoyed this answer all the same!

[theragethatisdesire]

SORRY SORRY I MISSED THE SLUMBER PARTY I was writing LV hopefully im not too late to ask what's going on in my head bc i NEED to know ur thoughts.....

1. thoughts on porco galliard,, if you like him if you don't IDK just anything

2. THOUGHTS ON ARMIN!!! 💓💓 (im actually in love with him so hard he's my fav)

3. would you ever write a female character x reader?? (I want to but idek if ppl read that)

4. did you always like Eren bc I genuinely have not seen the vision yet...canon, that is

UGH I'm so sorry if that's too much im just so pissed i missed the slumber party!! also hope youre feeling better seriously 💕💕

HEY SHEPPIE no dont apologize we're making it a full-weekend sleepover at this rate i'm going to be getting home earlier from work and having trouble resting for a few days so i'm just....hanging around constantly LOL

okay....i think this is a hot take, but i think porco is hot. i LOVE a man with a temper, what can i say?? most ppl talk about him negatively but i just love him lol not necessarily canonically but he's so cutie to me

i ADORE armin in the show, like i think his mind is so interesting and the way he works and i don't view him as the innocent little lamb i think he gets portrayed as. fic-wise though....i just can't do it like i'm so sorry lmao something about him (whether it be that they draw him to look literally 12-15 years old for most of the show or that he has a very feminized voice and that's just not my personal thing idk) i can't write or read for him. i love him, but just not in that ~way~

i honestly don't know if i would. i don't read it, i don't interact with it too much (i'm literally bi so idk why???) but yeah, i'm not sure!! it's a never-say-never thing, but it's not on my radar for now.

really it was the hoodie scene from the season 4 opening. LMAO actually i was a huge reiner and levi girl initially (still am)! like it took me awhile to get into eren, and i kind of fell in love with his canonical self before i did his fanon self bc his story truly is so tragic and i just love that and once i found out where we are headed in the show it just broke my heart and made me really feel for him!! now he is my baby girl so that's that

so many questions sheppie thank you for giving me something to do with my last bits of freedom before work!!! ily <33