#i spent some extra time rendering this one

[1rabbitdaily]

🐇 Mar 23 2023

[2tarbell]

TRAILERPARK!RAFE letting reader play dress up in his clothes ‘cause he knows his girl loves fashion and modeling. if he could he’d buy her all kinds of expensive things to wear, but seeing her in his shirts was just as mind reeling.

“whaddaya think ‘bout this one?” her voice gentle and airy, posing seductively and playfully under his intense gaze.

it was just such a sweet sight.

the way the fabric of his nicest button up swished at her thighs. the way the sleeves fell well past her hands. jesus christ. rafe sips his beer as he trails his gaze up her exposed legs, smirking at the goofy smile on her face.

he pretended to think over the question. the answer is easy: she is gorgeous, she always is. rafe just enjoyed winding her up.

“hmf, dunno... why don’t you gimme a spin?”

“rafeeee—“ she whined, feeling embarrassment (even though this was her idea) creep up her spine.

the thought of spinning for him, showing herself off for his cerulean eyes to appreciate all of her, made her heart pick up speed in double time.

“c’mon, do a spin f’dad, baby,” that low voice, commanding and comforting, always got to her. with an encouraging nod of his head and that sexy little smile on his pink lips, reader really had no choice.

with a playful pout, she spins around. the shirt lifts slightly and shows off the edge of her panties. the little show makes rafe adjust on the worn couch, man spreading further to accommodate the throbbing length of him, already half hard.

he’s ready to grab her and bend her over the couch. hell, he was ready two outfits ago. but her smile and cute poses rendered him soft. just not between his legs.

her sweet voice mumbles about having ‘jus’ one more, daddy’ and rafe needs a cigarette, now. his knee is bouncing incessantly but he nods and tries to will himself to be a little more patient.

but when she shyly steps out of their bedroom minutes later, sporting a pink lace lingerie set he’s never seen before, he freezes and drops his pack on the floor.

his mouth is suddenly very dry, “god—damn…”

reader is holding her arms behind her back, shuffling slightly as she gauges his reaction. she spent a little extra on the set to spoil him; he deserved it and more.

“d’ya like it, daddy?”

rafe whistles and leans back further, raking a hand through his grown out buzz cut. his eyes can’t seem to focus on one thing. from her batting lashes, cleavage pushed together from the bra, and the way the underwear straps are sitting on her hips, he more than likes it.

“shit, baby, s’uh— the— the prettiest little thing‘ve ever seen,” he mutters dumbly, eyebrows kissing his hairline from his wide eyes.

she giggles and pushes some hair away from her face. he huffs out a chuckle at her adorableness and beckons her closer with a crooked finger. she pads around the coffee table and stands in front of him. having her now in front of him makes rafe feel like he won the lottery. nah, any amount of cash was dull in comparison to her.

“you’re jus’… gorgeous,” a press of his lips to her hipbone. her hands immediately find purchase in his hair, now grown out enough to give her something to hold onto. the realization of the passage of time made her smile.

“yeah?”

“hell yeah.”

his hands pulls on her hips, urging her to come to closer. she climbs into his lap nimbly and straddles him. their bodies immediately settle together comfortably from nights spent in this position and many more. his firm bulge presses eagerly between her legs and he pulls her closer by the small of her back, leaving her to arch into him.

the friction and weight of her makes his brain feel fuzzy with want, want, want.

“seriously, i— i’ve never seen somethin’ as beautiful as you, sugar. takin’ my damn breath away, jesus…”

his gravelly praise and appreciation of the outfit makes her feel flush, a pleasant haze bathing her senses.

her smile is bashful as she leans in for a kiss. rafe hums as her lips meet his and her hands slide up his chest, the warmth of her palms felt through the fabric of his shirt. nipping at her bottom lip until she smiles, and he uses the moment to slide his tongue into meet hers. nothing has really ever felt more right in his life. at least until she mumbles her next words against his lips.

“daddy… wanna take a picture f’ya wallet?”

big thank u @fae-of-prey for helping with this!!!!!!💝💝

[lunarw0rks]

Hello!! Could you do one with how the 141 boys would take care of their sick partner who is also in 141 with them? Like when would they notice that you were sick or didn’t show up to training because you were sick?

I love your writing!!

Taking Care of Their Sick S/O (+Ale)

Warning(s): gn!reader, established relationship, emetophobia tw, hurt/comfort, mild language, fluff ˳✧༚/✿ Word Count: 1.1k ꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ 141 MASTERLIST // have a request? 𓆩♡𓆪 ask box

SYNOPSIS; if there was any unspoken rule in your line of work; it was that you show up to work, with no excuses. No absences unless an injury has rendered you disabled, or you're bedridden. For you, right now, it was the latter. You picked up a bug, some sort of flu that had you convinced you were dying. You found yourself too beat to tell anyone but those on a need-to-know basis.

Price

John let out a groan when his work phone rang, interrupting his paperwork. He figured it was yet another thing that had gone wrong or another phone call to take up an hour of his precious time.

But it wasn't; it was your voice — your scratchy, exhausted voice.

One portion of you called him because you had to, as his soldier. But the other half was his significant other, yearning for any comfort he could spare. It was the type of flu where you'd convinced yourself you were on your deathbed.

His soothing voice is what you needed, and it's what you got once he heard your sniffles and coughs. ❝You stay in bed until you're well, got it, sweetheart?❞ He spoke sternly, fiddling with his pen on the other line. Though he wanted nothing more than to tend to you personally, he just couldn't spare the time.

He sent one of his trusted men to check on you every few hours, taking a request for an errand, a file you wanted to review in bed, or something as trivial as a water refill. In addition, you got as much covered absence as you needed, probably even a few extra days to be sure of a full recovery.

Simon

Simon was the first to notice you acting off — the slower response time when asked a work-related question, how you had gone to bed hours than you usually would, and how your form had gotten sloppy in training.

Then, the following day, when you weren't present; he had been proven correct once again. The nasty flu you picked up was so hellacious you didn't want to risk getting the rest of them sick, so you stuck it out in your barrack.

He did check on you — startled you, actually. You rolled over when your nap had been cut short by a fierce cough, nearly adding a concussion to your reason for absence when you spotted the figure sitting beside you. Simon grabbed your arm before you could fall off the cot, feeling the sheer warmth of your fever, ❝didn't mean to startle you, love. Was worried, is all.❞

His fear of getting sick was non-existent, due to his alarming ability to push through the worst of colds and flu strains. Simon brushed a sweaty strand away from your drowsy eyes, merely watching as you lay feverish in your cot.

Soap

Let's be honest; Soap probably gave you the flu, only he was lucky enough to show the symptoms of a mild common cold — so the correlation was never made.

Of course, it had to hit you at its worst when he spent the night with you. You ran to the bathroom in the middle of the night, vomiting last night's dinner. ❝Ye alright in there, sweetheart?❞ Soap asked groggily at the sounds of your retching, only plagued with a runny nose and a deeper voice.

He stretched his muscles and waited outside the door, flashing a look of concern at your appearance. Though you had brushed your teeth, you still felt horrendous — and looked it.

❝I'll go make you a tea, hm?❞ He did just that, shuffling over to the kitchenette with a silent yawn. If he weren't sick himself, he wouldn't be half as drained as he was right now.

When he returned, he sat you up enough for you to keep the steaming mug upright. He passed it to you, watching as you sipped it to soothe the burn in your throat. ❝Best tea of your life, I promise.❞

Gaz

Gaz only saw a glimpse of you through the small window on your barrack door, the outline of you as you choked back some water. Even through the metal door, he heard a raspy chest cough you emitted.

He knocked a few times, taking a few steps back when you opened the door, looking dreadful. Dark circles, sweat formed on your forehead, and your pajamas still on. ❝Christ, babe, have you gotten any rest today? Go back to bed.❞ He gave the order from intense concern for getting you back in action. Not to mention, the day was boring without you on the field.

As much as he wanted to embrace you, he didn't want to risk catching whatever flu you had caught a strain of.

Once you were a few feet from him, he followed you inside, draping a spare quilt from the linen closet on you, then distancing himself once more. ❝How about we... video call until this is over?❞ Kyle made his best attempt at a kind smile, though he had already found the doorway.

Alejandro

He knew you were ill because the report made its way up the chain of command, eventually finding itself on his desk.

Alejandro couldn't spend a lot of time searching for you when he passed the training room, though he did find it strange you hadn't texted a good morning to him.

But, once he found out you had picked up a nasty flu, he set aside some time to get you a care package. Electrolytes to keep you hydrated, an extra blanket, and some soup he had a rookie drive across town to an authentic Mexican restaurant for (though not as good as one he would make for you if he had the time).

When you weakly opened the door, seeing the folded blanket and a takeout baggie of soup and bottled drinks, there was a neatly folded note;

'Te deseo una pronta recuperación' — A

Laswell

Unfortunately for her and you, she rarely had the luxury of being on base. Most of her working days were spent with Shepard, or halfway across the world gathering intel. Communication rarely came through texts, only calls with her.

It was both your luckiest and unluckiest day, however. You were ill and bedridden — but she was on base today.

The door to your cot closed softly, a gentle palm resting on your hip. She found out about your absence through Price, instantly taking a few minutes from her day to check up on you. ❝The Captain's worried about you,❞ she rubs circles on your blanketed hip, and the only sign that you're even awake is the active sniffling from your stuffy sinuses. You don't turn to face her, and she wouldn't want you to either, but the comfort eases the upset a bit.

You hear the faint rustle of a purse before she's handed you a few tablets to take, holding them in front of your mouth, then passing your water bottle. ❝Take these, they should knock you out for a few hours, let you get some rest.❞

[babygirlbdubs]

Hello Technoblade voters!

So, your guy lost to the GoodTimes. Maybe you don’t know who to vote for now. I mean, if Technoblade isn’t immune to the good times… who is?

I propose to you: Ethoslab.

Now, if you don’t know who Etho is, lemme give you a rundown.

he’s one of THE og minecraft letsplayers. your favorite minecraft youtuber? yeah, etho is probably one of the reasons they got into mcyt. etho is your favorite mcyt’s favorite mcyt

he’s faceless, and has been for his entire 12+ year youtube career

he has only changed his skin once or twice in those 12 years, and the most recent one was to remove the extra face on his torso because he didn’t know how previously

that skin is literally just kakashi naruto

etho is a god at redstone. he basically invented half the redstone that’s used today. hopper clock? that’s etho’s. i mean… he’s invented a storage system that lets you search for a specific item. it’s called the googler because it’s basically a search engine.

he is an absolute NERD (/aff) and insanely smart

he is genuinely kind to his friends, and has a very sweet yet mischievous demeanor. though, even his friends will call him mysterious

he’s canadian so like… arctic/antarctic solidarity… right?

he has spent many many MANY years perfecting a PVP arena game called Battle Bane. look it up. it’s insane.

actually, all the minigames he’s made are pretty insane. and most of them involve death. i mean. he had one called Hurtin’ Hermits where the whole goal was to kill the other hermits as much as possible and enact chaos

I could go on and on about Etho and what he’s like. HOWEVER. I think it’s more interesting to tell you how he’s portrayed by the fandom.

etho tends to be portrayed as a quiet, broody, mysterious guy despite actually being a bit of a goofball

he’s drawn not as kakashi naruto, but more often, a hot twink that can range from sad puppy to sexy dude covered in blood in the span of a single post

some people headcanon him to be as old as the universe, and tied to the void

he has multiple popular animal traits, from catboy to bunny to most commonly arctic fox

there’s etho titty tuesday. there’s. i mean. there’s etho titty tuesday.

i mean really, just… go into the ethoslab tag and you can see all the ways he’s portrayed.

And if that’s not convincing enough, here are some things he’s done in canon to hopefully sway you.

in season 7 of hermitcraft, he had a shop called Shade-E-E’s, where people could sign other people up to basically get harassed (/lh) by Etho’s shenanigans. “Free Glass” meant panes of light grey glass hidden in all your chests so you couldn’t put things into the chest. “Gardening” meant beehives hidden throughout your base so you would hear buzzing at random. “Pest Relocation” meant spawning endermites in your home.

also in season 7, he had the shop Sneak-E-E’s, which was a secret popup shop where he undercut prices or sold rare item overstock. you could only buy while it existed, and only when you could find it. the first time it was built was up in the sky, all out of shulker boxes so it wouldn’t render in until you got close. the second time was in the unused floor of Mayor GoodTimesWithScar’s shop. scar had no idea for. a while.

in last life, he scammed scar out of a life to give to bdubs, and then promptly killed scar and stole the enchanter. oh yeah, he did it with a fishing rod, too.

in season 9, he moved into bdubs’ basement without telling bdubs

in season 9, he also started late. so, in order to catch up, he exiled himself to a place untouched by the other hermits and wouldn’t let himself come back until he was able to defeat a full raid on his own. it didn’t take him long.

in double life, he and joel were paired, and were the most chaotic duo on the server. they hunted people for sport (notably, grian and scar) and burned things down for fun. “the ship burns everything burns” chanted as they set the entire map on fire

in last life, he went around trying to intimidate people into giving him gifts and he would spare their life. pretty much everyone was instantly afraid of him.

actually, most of the hermits are pretty intimidated by etho. including goodtimeswithscar.

also, most of the hermits are ethogirls.

etho and scar end up on opposing sides in pretty much everything, especially the life series (which is a funky lil hardcore battle royale). they are traditionally enemies. they pick fights with each other for fun.

If you want vengeance for Technoblade— blood for the blood god— vote Ethoslab.

Sincerely, Ethogirls

[lilacmingi]

NOT SO BAD

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works. Ageless blogs and blank blogs risk getting blocked

Pairing: Vampire!Yoongi x human!fem reader

Word count: 2,825

Note: This imagine is from my Wattpad so there won’t be any extra parts or continuations

Streetlights lined the damp roadway and sidewalk, casting hazy beams onto the pavement below. It was around 11:30 PM and you were heading home after a night out with friends as a way to wind down after a long week. You spent the late evening at a 24 hour karaoke bar where you sang (terribly) to all of your favorite songs and shared a few drinks with your small group of three; laughing and carrying on until your throats were raw from belting out lyrics for hours on end.

You reminisced on the new memories as you headed home for the evening, hoping to go out for karaoke again sometime soon. It was an ideal way to let loose have a good time.

Judging by the familiar buildings, you were nearing your apartment building, wanting nothing more than to shower and swap your fashionable, but mildly uncomfortable, attire for some loose pajamas.

A faint noise that sounded like a whimper reached your ears just as you were approaching a small alleyway. The noise was alarming and had sirens going off in your head. Someone was clearly in distress and with you being the only person walking the streets at this hour, you felt you should help.

You reached for your pepper spray, which you always carried with you, and cautiously approached the space between two buildings, peering around to corner to assess the situation before making any rash decisions.

A man with long, dark hair had a woman caged against the brick wall of one of the structures. It very much appeared that he was forcing himself on her.

Clutching your pepper spray in your hand and making sure your phone was in your back pocket, you stepped out into the opening of the alley.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

"Get away from her!" is what you wanted to say next, but your voice was stuck in your throat.

The man turned towards you, his appearance making every limb in your body go completely numb with fear. Blood dripped from his mouth, dribbling down his chin. The woman's neck was covered in the dark ruby liquid, her body limp in the man's arms.

You could only watch as she dropped to the ground unconscious, staring at her motionless form, horrified.

When your gaze met that of the man before you, you knew you were in danger. He smirked, showing off a set of sharp fangs as he licked away some of the blood smeared on and around his mouth. His irises were the same deep crimson hue as the bodily fluid that coated his lips, his sharp gaze feeling as if it was burning a hole in you.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing walking around alone so late at night?" He inquired, striding towards you.

You couldn't speak. The paralyzing fear coursing through your body had rendered you speechless.

"There's some dangerous people lurking this time of night. Don't you know?"

"D-Don't get any closer." You backed away, clutching the small can of pepper spray in your trembling hand.

He was standing directly in front of you in an instant, appearing at the speed of light. In the blink of an eye, he had you pinned against the brick wall just like the unconscious woman was moments earlier. You were now in her position. With your wrists bound by his hands, you were rendered immobile and completely helpless. The man's gaze trailed to the can clutched in your hand.

"That's real cute." He chuckled. "You think that little can of pepper spray is going to save you?"

His grip on your wrists tightened, causing you to drop your only means of defense to the concrete.

"You interrupted my meal, sweetheart." He uttered, his voice low and threatening.

He inhaled deeply, moving his face closer to your neck where he dragged the tip of his nose along your skin.

"Mmm." He hummed. "You smell much nicer than her. I hope you don't mind if I have a little taste."

"Please no."

"Shh." He placed his finger over your lips, silencing you.

You flinched at the feeling of his sharp fangs grazing your neck, yelping when his teeth pierced your skin. Tears welled up in your eyes from both the overwhelming pain and the fear that you were about to be killed.

The sound of him gulping down your blood was all you could hear, wondering how long it would take for him to stop.

His hands dropped to your waist, keeping you pressed firmly against the wall. He groaned against your neck, savoring the taste of you while he held on tighter, the blunt tips of his nails digging into your waist. At that point, you could feel yourself slipping away quickly. He was taking too much too fast and your body was becoming weak.

With your wrists no longer being pinned down, you tried to push the vampire off of you, but it was no use. Your head was starting to spin and your vision was gradually becoming blurrier. At this rate, you would pass out soon.

"S-stop." You whispered weakly, your tingling hands still trying to force him away.

After fighting to keep your heavy eyelids open, you admitted deafeat, giving in and letting unconsciousness take over. Just as your eyes closed, you felt the man retract his fangs, your body going limp in his arms.

The last thing you heard before passing out was a low curse from the man.

Whatever dream you were having slowly faded out as you came to consciousness, your body gradually beginning to wake up. Light hit your eyelids and the faint sounds of the outside reached your ears. You hummed softly, rolling over onto your side and tugging the sheets up higher over your shoulders.

Wait.

You didn't remember coming home, let alone going to bed. You opened your eyes and abruptly shot up into a sitting position. A sharp sting surged through your neck causing you to hiss in response, clenching your teeth together. Instinctively reaching up to where the burning was, you felt a piece of gauze taped to your neck.

Oh no.

You took in your surroundings, realizing fairly quickly that you weren't in your apartment. In fact, you didn't recognize the room.

Whose house were you in?

A distant, male voice coming from somewhere in the house reached your ears. He was shouting curse words and, judging by the sounds of objects hitting the floor, he was throwing things too.

Your heart began to race, recalling the voice from the night before.

Swinging your legs off the side of the bed, you started to get up only for your knees to buckle. You were quick to catch yourself on the frame of the bed and pull yourself back onto the mattress. It was clear that you were far too weak to get out of there. Your eyes drifted over to the window, wondering how high up it was and if you might be able to drag yourself over to it.

Before you could try and come up with a solid escape plan, the door opened.

"You're awake." The man sounded relieved.

"Get away from me!" You demanded, trying to sound stern even though you were scooting back against the headboard to get away.

"Are you okay? Do you feel alright?"

"Don't come near me, you monster! You nearly killed me!"

His eyes widened and he stepped back as if your words physically hit him.

"Yeah." He chuckled dryly. "I am a monster."

For some reason you felt bad for calling him that. He was obviously the one who brought you back to his place, he bandaged the bite on your neck, and he came to check on you as soon as you woke up.

"Sorry." You murmured, glancing down at your hands that rested in your lap. "I shouldn't have said that."

"No, you're right."

You lifted your gaze. The man looked visibly distraught, shame and guilt painting his features.

"I almost killed you. I don't know what got into me last night. I never let my thirst get out of control. I already wasn't in my right mind and when you walked up, I got one whiff of your scent and it drove me to the edge. I went into a blind frenzy. I wasn't aware of what I was doing until it was almost too late. I know an apology doesn't fix it, but I'm so sorry."

"What happened to the girl?" You questioned after a brief moment of silence, hoping you wouldn't regret asking.

"She's okay. I healed her wound and wiped her memory. She won't remember anything that happened."

"But you didn't wipe my memory?"

He hesitated. "No."

"Why?"

"I don't really know. I saw your face and..." He trailed off, unable to really put it into words. "It was just something about you that made me decide not to erase your memory."

You must've had a perplexed expression because he turned away muttering, "I don't know. It's dumb."

"What's your name?" You asked him in an attempt to change the subject since he was obviously uncomfortable.

"Yoongi."

"I'm Y/n."

"Good to know." He smiled a little. "I'll go get you some water."

Your eyes followed him as he walked out of the room.

Well, he wasn't trying to kill you, so that was good. Maybe he really wasn't a bad guy.

He returned to the room almost as quickly as he left, handing you a glass of water. You thanked him and took a sip, the cool liquid soothing your dry mouth and throat.

"You never answered me earlier. Are you okay?" Yoongi asked.

"I'm still pretty weak, but I guess I'm alright. I tried getting up, but my knees gave out."

Yoongi lowered his head. "I'm sorry."

You pressed your lips together and fiddled with the sheets.

"How is your neck?" He gestured to the gauze.

"Sore."

"Do you mind if I check it?"

He could see you were hesitant to accept. He didn't blame you for feeling that way.

"I won't hurt you. I promise."

After a moment of hesitation, you nodded.

He took a seat on the edge of the bed and brushed your hair back to assess the damage. You suppressed a shiver at his actions. Careful not to be too rough, he started to remove the medical tape that held the gauze in place. You winced a little, the skin still tender.

"It's pretty bad. I can heal it for you if you want."

"How?"

"Vampire saliva is pretty powerful."

Saliva?

"Do you want your neck to stop hurting?" Yoongi asked when you sat for too long without responding.

"Yes."

"Okay. Stay still."

He leaned in, the warm sensation of his tongue gliding up the side of your neck following seconds later. Heat spread across your cheeks at how intimate the situation seemed. A tingling sensation was felt on the wounded area just before Yoongi pulled away.

"There. All better."

You reached up and gingerly touched the place where the bite mark was, but you didn't feel it nor did it hurt anymore. You skin was completely smooth and free of any puncture marks.

"Thank you."

"It's the least I could do."

"Why didn't you do that while I was unconscious?" You asked out of curiosity.

"I still wasn't fully in my right mind when I brought you back here to patch you up. The wound was still fresh and I was afraid if I tried to heal you, I'd end up killing you instead. I didn't want to risk it."

"Ah." You nodded.

He stayed put on the edge of the bed while picking at his nails, hesitant to leave.

"You may have to stay another day. You know, so I can keep an eye on you and make sure you're alright."

"I think I'll be okay with that."

"You will?"

You gave a nod.

"Are you hungry?" He asked. "Do you need anything?"

"Now that you mention it, I am a little hungry."

"I'll get you whatever you're in the mood for. I'm not much of a cook, but if it's something that can be made at home, I'll try to make it."

"You don't need to do all that."

"Please." There was a hint of desperation in his tone. "It's the least I can do after what I did to you last night."

"You brought me back here, bandaged my wound, healed it, and you've apologized twice. You've done plenty."

He shook his head. "I won't feel better about this until you feel better."

"I didn't know vampires cared so much for their victims." You teased.

Yoongi chortled softly. "We're selective."

You cracked a smile, releasing a short laugh.

Yoongi's undead heart fluttered at how pretty you were when you smiled. He much preferred the happy and relaxed you as opposed to the one that was terrified of him. He was glad to no longer see that fear in your eyes.

"Oh." He realized you hadn't told him what you'd like to eat. If you were going to get your strength built back up, you needed nourishment. "What do you want to eat? Like I said, I'll do whatever. I'll attempt to cook it or I'll go pick it up."

You thought about it for a moment before giving Yoongi a response. The food you were craving needed to be picked up, but he didn't mind. In fact, he hurried off to go retrieve your meal almost as soon as you gave him an answer.

His eagerness was amusing. Vampires in stories and movies were always depicted as heartless creatures who had no remorse for the victims they killed. Yoongi wasn't like that. Guilt was written all over his face for the first few minutes he was in the room with you, and even when the atmosphere was less tense, he was still doing his best to make sure you were taken care of. He was so ready to make up for what he did last night that you were almost certain this wasn't a normal occurrence.

Yoongi returned home less than fifteen minutes after rushing out, your bag of food clutched in his hand.

Your face lit up when he walked into the bedroom and presented you with the bag. You gratefully took it, thanking him for going out to get it to which he merely shrugged.

"I'll let you eat your meal in peace." He turned to leave, walking towards the door.

"Wait."

He stopped, glancing over his shoulder.

"I wouldn't mind the company."

Yoongi was surprised by the offer you extended. Though you didn't outrightly state that you wanted him to stay, it was very much implied.

He moved to sit at the end of the bed while you pulled your food out.

"So, do you always bring your victims home and take care of them?" You asked, opening up the takeout container.

"No. This is the first time."

"I must be special or something." You chuckled, taking a bite of food.

"You are."

You stopped chewing, glancing over at him.

"I brought you here because I couldn't bear to leave you in the alley. The thought of it made my stomach twist with guilt." He admitted.

"But you left the other girl."

"She was drunk, anyway. Since I wiped her memory she'll just think she blacked out from drinking too much."

Your nail picked at the edge of the styrofoam container, silently processing his words.

"I don't understand. Why did you bring me here? What was so special about me?"

"I... thought you were pretty." The last part was said under his breath, but he was close enough for you to hear.

Before you could respond, he started rambling.

"I shouldn't have said anything. I'm sure I've made you uncomfortable and after what happened last night, I'm certain you're not interested. Plus, you don't even know me."

"That can be changed though."

Yoongi met your gaze, his brows pulling together.

"We can start as friends and just get to know each other."

"Friends." He echoed, nodding. "Okay."

"Good. Why don't you start? Tell me a little about yourself."

Yoongi started by telling you some of his hobbies, easing in with a light subject before getting into the heavier stuff like when he was first turned and how difficult it was to navigate his new life. He even let you ask questions, openly answering all of them. In turn, you shared a little bit about your own life.

You still didn't know Yoongi, but what little you had heard about him made you see that he was a decent guy and someone you wanted to continue to get acquainted with.

You'd be staying with Yoongi for at least another day so he could make sure you fully recovered, but who knows? Maybe you'd decide to stay a little longer.

Jungkook ♱ Jimin ♱ Taehyung ♱ Namjoon ♱ Hoseok ♱ Jin

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

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[draconic-absurdism]

Hey, quick question (that I'm sending before I go to sleep) how do you draw those pool rooms /liminal spaces (poll edition) I can't figure it out and I saw that you did them and they looked really good!

Yo, you caught me at the perfect time!!! I haven't been active on Tumblr in a while due to mental health stuff, but here I am! Thank you so much for the kind words :]

I draw these as studies based on photos most of the time! Some of them are very closely referenced while others take a lot of artistic liberty

(The original poolrooms renders are by Jared Pike btw!)

I start by blocking out the background colors very simply. I don't use the straight line tool most of the time; imperfect lines are part of the charm. Just using your eye to lay out roughly where the shapes go, use edges & estimated perspective to create depth, and bucket fill in areas of color as you go

I slowly move toward the foreground and add the character at the very end- this usually makes them look out of place in the scene, which works great as an effect for a liminal space. Sometimes you don't need a character at all

The idea is to suggest detail without having to paint complex lighting! It also works for non-pool liminal spaces

I draw textured water by doing something like this:

It's deceptively simple! Sometimes I'll go back and add really thin white rings inside the bigger white circles for extra detail. I'm trying to minmax art to get impactful effects with the least amount of time spent. Some people might argue that makes it low effort or less meaningful, but some people might argue anything at all! Ultimately the value of art is what it means to you

My liminal series is based on really sporadic intense bouts of emotion which can't be refined over long hours without losing their original meaning. I work until I feel in my gut that it's done, no matter how "finished" it actually looks in the end. It might be 20 minutes or 4 hours

One instance where I recommend using the straight line tool is for making grid patterns!

For the glowing lights, I use a 'shine' or 'glow' or 'screen' effect layer (it might have a different name depending on your drawing program). Having everything be solid colorblocks except for a few glowing lights makes for some fun jarring contrast!

Pinterest has a really good selection of liminal space photography to study from, unfortunately a lot of it goes uncredited, but you can usually find the source with Google image search. I seek out liminal spaces that speak to me for some reason. The suburb ones represent the bloody paranoid failure of individualist imperialist America. Dark hotel hallways invite you into an unknown and uncertain future. The pool ones are both isolation and wholeness, comfort and discomfort, the pain on your skin when the water is a bit too cold despite the calm vibes of summer. Find what motifs speak to you, they'll mean something different to everyone

[george-weasleys-girl]

North Star Series

Chapter 49 - Two April Fools

Start here:

Summary: The twins celebrate their birthday.

Warnings: a couple mentions of sex

~•~

Two cakes for two brothers. Orange and chocolate for Fred and strawberry for George. Y/N insisted on baking George's herself, causing a minor fuss with Molly, who considered it her motherly duty to bake all her children's birthday cakes.

In the end, they compromised by using fresh strawberries from Molly's garden, which Y/N planned on using in the first place and baking it at the Burrow under Molly's close supervision.

"You know, you could've just made me one at home and not told mum. Then I'd have two cakes," George whispered to her as they relaxed on the sofa after cake and presents.

"Oh," Y/N's eyes went wide for a moment. "I didn't think of that." Then she shrugged. "Well, it's the first time I've been able to properly help you celebrate. If you remember correctly, our first year together, you were down with the flu. And, the second year, I was in the States. It was important to me to do this for you."

George's eyes softened at that, and he pulled her closer.

"And besides," Y/N continued, settling into his warmth. "Molly's gonna have to pass the torch at some point."

"Hey, it's your head on the chopping block, not mine," her husband shrugged and chuckled.

"Oh gee, thanks, dear. Your support is overwhelming," she said with mock sarcasm and playfully elbowed him in the ribs.

"Hey now, no need to get violent!" George joked, tickling her and making her squeal much louder than either of them expected.

"What's going on in there?" Molly's voice bellowed from the kitchen.

"Y/N's giving George a special birthday gift," Ginny hollered back, a wicked grin spreading across her face.

"WHAT?" Molly thundered around the corner.

Arthur, who'd dozed off in his chair, snapped awake, looking around in confusion.

George and Y/N froze and stared at Ginny before pulling her into their melee.

Fred burst out laughing. "Bravo, Ginny, bravo!" He exclaimed with pride.

Hermione's face turned a bright red, and pointedly turned away to hide her embarrased giggle.

And, Ron nearly choked on his second slice of cake, prompting Harry to slap him hard on the back several times.

~•~

"Ah damn, wish I could've been there. Sounds like our little sister isn't so little anymore," Bill laughed, taking a swig of whiskey. "Shame Fleur couldn't make it either. I'm sure she would've gotten a good laugh out of it, too."

Ginny beamed and Y/N smiled at her sister-in-law's happy expression. She was glad that Ginny had finally accepted Fleur into the family. It'd irked Y/N that both Ginny and Molly had spent the past couple of months treating Fleur like a pariah. Y/N knew exactly what that was like, having once been on the receiving end of Molly's discontent, but at least she'd had Ginny on her side.

Poor Fleur didn't even have that. Y/N did her best to make the french girl feel welcome when Bill brought her around, but it had been hard with both of the Weasley women punching down on her.

"...well, we're happy you got to come to the after-party," her husband spoke, pulling Y/N from her thoughts.

"Me too," Bill raised his glass. "And it's a lovely evening for it."

After the official birthday party, all the siblings headed over to George and Fred's apartment, where they all relaxed on the rooftop, enjoying the warm night with bottles of firewhiskey and butterbeer.

"I love this seating area you put up here," Hermione said, sinking into the pillowy sofa. "So comfy and cozy. You must spend a lot of time up here."

"Used to," George said. "Not so much anymore, what with the cold winter winds and now Deatheaters flying about all over the damn place."

"But this is a special occasion," Fred said cheerfully. "And we put some extra wards up earlier to make it safer, including one that will render us invisible temporarily," he added, hoping to ease the sudden worried expression on Harry's face.

"For how long?" Harry asked.

"Couple hours," George answered. "Don't worry, mate, we're keeping an eye on the clock."

"Yeah, Harry," Ron patted his best friend on the shoulder. "Fred and George won't let anything happen to you. Hell, they won't even prank you - "

"Oh! That reminds me!" Fred interrupted, jumping up. "It's almost time for the grand finale."

"Grand finale?" A confused look passed across Y/N's face, eyes darting from one twin to the other.

"We were up to more than just warding the place while you baking with mum this morning," George winked.

Y/N's expression shifted from confusion to apprehension. "What did you do?" She asked slowly.

"Oh, nothing much," Fred shrugged. "It's just that we were a bit disappointed that we couldn't prank Filch this year. So we decided to do the next best thing. Prank a few Deatheaters!"

"WHAT?" Ginny stared at Fred.

"Hey, you sound just like mum did earlier today!" Fred teased.

Ginny stood and pointed her finger at her brother. "Don't try to change the subject!" She said, stepping toward him.

Y/N continued to glare from her husband to her brother-in-law. "Spill it, you two."

George moved to stand beside Fred, both of them grinning like fools. "Well, you see, Freddie got this last minute idea," he began. "So, we gathered up all the muggle fireworks we had in stock."

"And then disguised ourselves as Deatheaters," Fred continued. "It wasn't hard. We just mussed up our hair and made ourselves look like we haven't bathed in a year."

George grinned and nodded. "And we charmed the fireworks to go off..." the younger twin paused to check the time. "In about ten minutes. Then we snuck down to Knockturn Alley and tossed 'em around in random places."

"YOU WHAT??" Six voices shouted in perfect synchronization.

The two pranksters' eyes widened in surprise for the briefest of moments before their grins returned even bigger than before.

"C'mon, we can see the action best from over here," Fred waved them over to the right side of the roof.

George hung back and wrapped his arm around Y/N, who was still giving him the stink eye.

"I can’t believe you did that," she hissed. "After all that talk about me walking alone at night when I got back, and then you go and do this. This was like ten times more dangerous."

"But I wasn't alone. I had Fred," he explained.

"Yes, but you went into their territory," Y/N pointed out. "That was just asking for it."

"Nothing bad happened, love," he pled.

"But it could have," his wife countered, looking away. "You could've been captured or killed," she added with a trembling voice.

George stopped and stepped in front of her. "We were really careful. No one saw what we were doing or recognized us. We took every precaution." He lifted her chin with his fingers, meeting her gaze eye-to-eye. "And it won't happen again. Promise. It was only for our birthday."

Y/N looked at him for a long moment. "Good," she said finally. "Because you're really damn close to not getting laid tonight." Then she stepped around him quickly, hoping he didn't notice the smirk playing on her lips.

"Hey! Now wait minute, baby!" George hurried after her. "That's not fair!"

~•~

Y/N couldn't help the giggles that overtook her, watching panicked Deatheaters running around, aiming their wands in every direction, trying to stop the never-ending barrage of firecrackers. If it had it been anyone else, Y/N would've been deeply concerned for their welfare and very upset with George and Fred. But these were Deatheaters. They kidnapped, tortured, and killed people for fun. And they had a bounty on one of her dearest friend's head.

Of all the things the twins could've done to them, she figured they'd got off pretty light.

"Well, that was quite the explosive ending to a great day," Ron said as they descended the stairs to the apartment.

Harry nodded. "I can't remember the last time I laughed that hard."

"Glad you enjoyed it, mate," Fred clapped him on the back. "You deserve a good laugh."

"We all do," Hermione chimed in, a sly grin spread across her face.

"Hey, you know you did good when Hermione's praising you," Ginny joked, slipping beside Harry. Fred cocked an eyebrow at the move but said nothing.

"When are you all headed back to Hogwarts," Bill asked, addressing the younger crowd.

"Tonight," Ron sighed. "Gotta be back for classes in the morning. You know how it - "

Ron's voice faded into the distance as George once again pulled Y/N away.

"I know you enjoyed it," he said, grinning. "You were giggling like crazy."

"I did enjoy it," she responded, keeping her gaze straight ahead.

"So..." George probed. "Does that mean I'm forgiven?"

"Of course you're forgiven," she replied, still not looking at him.

"Cool. Cool," he said, nodding. "And does that mean - "

"I'll consider it," Y/N teased, turning to look at him with a wide smirk.

George's mouth fell open. "But I'm the birthday boy..."

"Indeed you are," she kissed his cheek. "Happy Birthday, my love." Then, without another word, she turned and hurried to catch up with the rest of the group, leaving her poor, confused husband in the dust.

@milivanili99 @slytherclaw1978 @quackitysdrugdealer @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @fancy-pantaloons @samberriejams @totalwitch2 @aslanvez @mrsgweasley @morally-grey-obsessed @asuperconfusedgirl @hmisa11 @superduckmilkshake @junerprsh @wolfkill16 @kaysau2510 @planetkt @thankyouforanonymity @thatonepersonwhocantwrite

~•~

@Smallsweetvanillabean @hanne-montana @greenapplegrass @yoursarahg @marvelgirlstories @ceehance @whotfskai @sierraluvzz @now-that-we-dontalk @moonatician @lillisummers @niktwazny303

[mysticmellowlove]

Thinking about Yandere with reader who is starting to let him go. Can they maybe be teenagers? Maybe they were good friends and she thought he liked her but for some reason he started hanging out with another girl for whatever reason we didn’t know who she and we weren’t going to waste energy finding out .… what was he doing with her? Why isn’t he with me? Did he get tired of me? I knew he would… But as she realizes this, she is used to it, so it hurts but she can still function. So as time goes on she starts pulling away, taking longer to reply, not initiating meetups. And one day she takes extra long. Let’s say she works at a bakery(I’m going to own a bakery so it just makes sense in this matter) but moving on she works at her own bakery shop and so she kind of has an excuse to ignore him saying she’s working if he asks but she didn’t expect him to come barging in. He comes walking by the shop sees us and immediately hurries in looking quite frustrated? Hurt? We couldn’t tell. He rushes over to us and pulls us to the back. Thankfully no one was in shop right now and no one was in the back. Then he finally looses it and is crying asking us what we are doing and why we aren’t talking to him. And we try to play it off in anyway until he keeps prying and we’re just like “WHY DO YOU SUDDENLY CARE ABOUT ME NOW?!? GO HANG OUT WITH THAT OTHER GORL SINCE YOU SEEM TO LIKE HER SO MUCH YOU STOPPED HANGING OUT WITH ME!” And I will let you finish that how ever you please

warnings; yandere male, fem reader, yandere behaviours, angst, non-con touching at the end, manipulation, bodily harm

She stood silently as the boy before her tugged her arms towards him. He was distraught, in a way she had never seen before, his eyes wide and glossy and his lip bitten raw. His face was blotchy, tears streaking down the reddened skin. Despite all this... she couldn't find it in her to care.

He had made a decision, after all the time they had spent together he had made the decision to hang out with someone else. Her throat closed up at the thought before she willed herself to let it go. He had made his decision.

He had made his decision...

"Answer me! Please..." His voice was strained as he stepped closer to her, his legs giving out underneath him rendering him useless on the floor. Even as he looked up at her with those doe eyes of his... she didn't care. She kept telling herself that he didn't care about her anymore.

She had moved on anyway, her grades had gone up and she was happily working part-time at a small bakery on the outskirts of town. While he was out chatting someone else up she was doing something with her life.

It wasn't as if she had cut him out entirely like he had done to her. She still answered his texts and helped him with the hard questions in class. But, it was clear to her that something had changed between them so why was he here now?

"Aren't you busy?" She could see the moment his expression crumbled, the moment his world got turned upside down.

"Busy?" He parroted as if he didn't already know the answer. His sentences jumped as his sobs interrupted him but he wouldn't let his eyes stray from her for too long. Even after he had moved on from her he was still haunting her.

"With her." Was all she said, the weight of the words hanging in the air between them. He stopped his crying and just looked at her as if she had shattered his whole world. He stuttered for a moment before slotting his hands into hers.

"I would never leave you, you know that." He whispered, so quietly and gently that she almost believed him. She had seen it happen right in front of her though, how he smiled at the other girl and followed her around. How he'd spent more and more lunchtimes with him, how he'd wait for her at the gates and walk her home.

All while she was going to her part-time job. Walking across the town in the afternoon and watching all the other people at her school hanging out with their friends.

"You can't be back here, staff only." Her eyes dulled, she didn't have the time to deal with this. She didn't owe him anything, not even her time after he had made it clear that he was done with her. She shoved his hands from her and went to leave the storeroom, she had to close up still.

The floors needed to be swept, he called out to her.

The counters needed to be dusted, he scrambled from his knees.

She needed to pack the leftover product away, he reached out for her.

A gasp left her mouth as she slammed into the wall. Hand crowded her in as his chest heaved against her own. He was so close... she could see the pain in his eyes.

"It's not what you think! I was just... I was just scoping her out. She's new and I needed her to know..." Her lips pursed as he tripped over his words like a child. Her eyebrow cocked upwards.

"That's the most shitty excuse I've ever heard." He reeled away from her at the sound of her scoff, a wince crossed his face. She tried to pull away again only to be stopped.

"No! You don't understand! She's the only one...." She cut him off with a slap to his chest.

"So what! She's better than me? You've gotten tired of me? I've seen the signs okay, I'm not going to fight you on this." Resignation echoed through her words as she dropped her gaze to the ground. The lump in her throat only grew as the situation finally made itself clear. She was losing him.

"No. I needed her to know that you're mine. This is a small town and I've spent years warning people away from you. She's new, she didn't know and I made sure that she did." Her blood turned cold as her eyes widened. He was breathing heavier now, his weight on her pushing her against the wall where she had no leverage over him.

"I didn't want you to know but since you insist I'm cheating... I've made everyone's lives a living hell just so they won't interrupt us." He leaned forward, his mouth hovering close to her ear as her heart rate picked up.

"Threats, harm, blackmail... why do you think no one gets in our way? I can't lose you, I've spent years setting the stage for us to be together. Are you just going to throw that away?" A clipped laugh left him as he pulled his face back to look into her eyes. A snide smirk rose to his lips as he rested his thumb on her chin.

"I'd do anything to keep what we have alive." The teary-eyed boy from before was gone, now all that was left was a monster. She could do nothing as he pressed his mouth to hers, breathing in her gasps as his hands ran over her shoulders down to her waist.

"I'm sorry it took so long. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Upon her doorstep, the very next day, were ten fingernails stained pink and red.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: The Lone Road

The transport hit another bump and Zempet was thrown from his seat in the transport. He landed hard on the metal floor as the rest of the passengers laughed.

“You can always tell who the rookie is by how they use the seatbelt.” One of them chuckled as Zempet pulled himself back into his seat. “I had the belt firmly locked.” Zempet countered, but this made them laugh even more.

“Exactly; your first mistake was thinking these old things work at all.”

With that they laughed even louder and went back to talking amongst themselves. Zempet grumbled and went back to looking out the window. The landscape alternated between lush jungle and barren crater as the mining operations on Lun II moved from deposit to deposit. In several locations the ravenous jungle was already reclaiming spent dig sites and returning them to their natural splendor. It was because of these same overgrowing fields of green that Zempet now found himself confided to an armored convoy.

The vegetation on Lun II was unlike any seen before. You could burn the plants to ash, yet if even a single root was left untouched it would begin growing once more and by dawn of the next day already begin sprouting. This made mining the rich ores beneath the planet’s surface taxing as not only was the mining operations themselves a race against time, any infrastructure built that could speed up the process was likewise rendered obsolete.

Everything from landing pads to train systems had been tried and each attempt had resulted in failure. Plants would overgrow the structure in a matter of days with roots digging into their foundations until the entire structure simply shattered under the strain of the choking vines. This left the company only one option if they wished to proceed with mining operations.

Zempet had heard it called “The lone Road” by some of the transport staff as he had exited the work shuttle that morning for his first day. A patch of jungle was carved up each morning from the refinery facilities and landing pads through the dense jungle to the next mining site. Miners would travel along this lone road to and from the new site, carrying freshly pulled ores or new equipment, and by nightfall return to the refineries lest they be lost to the jungles green grasp.

This solution was almost childlike in its simplicity, but Zempet had expected nothing less from the human run mining company. Were it not for his recent need of new funding he doubted he would ever stooped so low as to work for humans, but they were the largest hiring body in the sector and the hazard pay they offered meant that after a month or so he would be set for the next three stellar cycles.

He chuckled to himself as the jungle continued to rush by the window. If driving through dense jungle was what humans considered “Hazardous” then he would be living like a ki-

Suddenly a loud siren blared and red warning lights began flashing in the compartment breaking Zempet from his daydreams of grandeur. The other human workers in the compartment stopped laughing and crammed their eyes out the nearest window.

“Aw shit,” one of them muttered, “I was hoping they’d have left us alone by now.” The human next to him shook his head as he wiped the bands of sweat now crossing their brow.

“You know they hate it when we cross their territory,” the other replied, “and corporate refuses to take a detour around them so we’re fucked either way.”

“What are you talking about?” Zempet asked. The loudspeaker stopped blaring before one of them could respond and the driver’s voice from the front sounded off.

“Good morning passengers. As you have no doubt guessed things are about to get rather bumpy so please remain in your seats, tuck in your tray tables, and start praying to whatever god you believe in because we’re going to need the extra help.”

The announcement ended with a loud click and Zempet had only more questions as the vehicle began speeding up. Looking out the window again the blur of the jungle was even more intense. The loudspeaker came on again as blurted “Contact left!” and in a flash a stretch of the jungle Zempet had been looking at suddenly lit up with a series of explosions.

Zempet recoiled in shock as the explosions continued, showering the vehicle in a shrapnel storm of splintered wood and plant life. He had not been aware that there were weapons onboard their transport, and was more worried why they were needed at all. A question he would soon find the answer for in a violent manner.

Through the exploding trees came a massive shadow easily twice the size of their current vehicle. Its full shape mixed with the jungle but Zempet could make out two things. The first that it was a creature of some sort covered from head to toe in thick scales that to his horror were deflecting several explosions as easily as a stone bouncing off a pond, and the second and far more frightening was the row upon row of sharpened teeth filling a maw so large it could swallow Zempet whole in a single bite.

The creature had no eyes and yet Zempet could feel as if it was looking right at him as it dashed towards the vehicle. From the window he could see the other vehicles in the convoy had released similar weapons and were likewise firing everything they had at it.

Letting out a roar that cracked the window the nightmare pressed on through the withering stream of munitions, pushing ever closer to the convoy. Just as it reached out with a clawed hand that looked like it could carve through steel the creature took several nasty hits to the head and stumbled. It lost pace with the running convoy and slowly fell behind as it shook its head and continued to endure the lethal barrage. This lasted for another minute; though to Zempet it felt like a lifetime, before the creature decided it had had enough and fled back into the jungle.

“What the frak was that!?” Zempet shouted as the creature’s shadow finally vanished into the tree line and the cannon fire ceased.

The worker at the front of the cabin who had mocked him earlier turned back to him. “They got some technical science name, but we just call them-“

“RIGHT SIDE!” the loud speaker cut in again.

Zempet watched from his window as the lead vehicle was struck and thrown like a rag doll off the road by a pair of creatures. The transport rolled several times before coming to a stop against a large tree as the monstrous creatures circled the downed vehicle. He had expected the convoy to slow down so they could rescue the workers still trapped inside it but to his horror the convoy instead sped up even faster and pulled away.

“Why aren’t we helping them??!” Zempet shouted as the last thing he saw the downed vehicle was the underbelly being ripped open and the creatures smashing their heads inside like it was a can of recycled animal food.

The other workers just shook their heads. “If we stopped for them we’d end up just like them.” The other worker nodded at his comrade’s remark and pulled out a ligo stick and began smoking.

“They look like stupid b list critters but they’re smart. They distracted us on the left while the rest of the pack smashed into us from the right; if we’d stop to help them they’d be all over us in seconds.”

He passed the stick to his comrade who took it and took a deep drag from it before blowing a cloud of smoke. “Out here you got three options. Discourage them, outrun them, or get eaten by them.” To Zempet’s surprise he then leaned over and held out the ligo stick for Zempet.

“Welcome to the jungle kid.” ( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)      

[luckyricochet]

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

Read on AO3

Eilidh learns how terrible the night can be.

A/N: Cèlidh (KAY-lee) - A traditional Scottish or Irish social gathering usually involving dancing and Gaelic music

Eilidh Hamilton’s Diary

Mum and Dad say I need to keep on looking after Granny. They both asked if they could take different shifts now that the attacks are at night, but they’re both needed during the day. I expected as much, so it wasn’t so surprising when they told me but it seems like I won’t be getting much time to myself for the foreseeable future. It’s not as if I was getting much of that in St Andrews, but…I’m not sure how to express what I feel. Maybe because I don’t have any opportunity to actually work it out, all my time it seems is focused on Granny. And maybe instead of writing here in this diary I could think instead, but even that time wouldn’t be enough. I need more.

I keep telling myself everyone has to make sacrifices in war but I can’t help but complain anyway. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do anything anymore, except be by myself. I know it’s a selfish, horrible thought. Mum, Dad, and Granny deserve so much better than me, and I don’t want to give it to them.

I keep hoping one day I’ll wake up and I won’t be such a bitter pill and all of this will go away. But that only happens after some time. And like I said, I don’t have much of it right now.

A hand on her shoulder. Soft, but with a little pressure. Eilidh frowned in her sleep and then turned over, rolling the hand off of her. She opened her eyes and saw in the dimness the shape of her mother, dressed and carrying a bag.

“I’m sorry to wake you so early,” she whispered. “But we’re leaving now, so it’ll be you and Granny until we get back.”

“When?” Eilidh groaned, still half-asleep.

“We’ll try to be back before eight tonight,” her mother answered. “If anything happens, we’ll telephone.”

“Is Granny up?”

Eilidh’s mother glanced out into the hall. “Not yet.”

Eilidh forced herself awake enough to catch a glimpse of her clock. She probably had another hour of rest before she would have to rise.

“Well, okay,” she muttered. “I’ll see you later, then.”

Footsteps padded softly out of the room, followed by a shuttering of the door. London was awake even though it was still early, with the cars passing on the streets and a newspaper boy hawking the headlines on the corner. Eilidh pulled her blanket higher, trying to enjoy the warmth of her bed for as long as she could. When she finally sat up to change, she didn’t feel like she had taken advantage of the extra time.

As refreshed as she could be, Eilidh stopped outside her brother’s room. He hadn’t spent much time here, as she recalled. If he wasn’t at school, he was on the street playing football or riding his bike. He wasn’t someone content to stay at home.

She knocked. “Granny? Do you need help getting dressed?”

Some muffled noises answered her. “No, I don’t think so…”

A minute later, the door opened. Eilidh’s mouth fell open slightly. Her grandmother stood before her, not wearing the type of sensible dress and hose that she normally donned, but Will’s slacks, a woolen jumper, and church jacket. Everything was too large her but also too frumpy to all be layered atop of each other, rendering Granny some bizarre model for Will's school uniform and a Sunday service at the same time.

“Granny, these aren’t your clothes,” Eilidh said. “Do you have your luggage in there? Why don’t you take those off and we’ll pick something that fits you.” She gently pushed Granny back into the room. “What about this?” She pulled out a blue dress, cardigan, and stockings from the suitcase that was at the foot of the bed.

“Hmm…” Her grandmother appraised the outfit Eilidh proposed, skeptical.

“You love this dress,” Eilidh said. “We can’t go out with you dressed in boys’ clothes, can we?”

“Boys’ clothes?”

“Yes. Boys’ clothes,” Eilidh said firmly. She began to take the mismatched garments off. “Don’t these feel more comfortable?” She wrangled her grandmother into her own clothes and then let out a breath. “Isn’t that better?”

Her grandmother examined her arms, like she had never seen what she was now wearing. “I supposed it does.” She laughed a little, as if she was surprised with herself.

Eilidh almost joined her, and then the memory of last night returned. Her smiled faded. “Granny, I’m sorry I was sharp with you yesterday evening.”

Her grandmother also stopped smiling, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“When we arrived, I got frustrated with you. I’m sorry. It wasn’t right for me to yell. It wasn’t your fault.”

A moment passed, while Eilidh wondered if Granny actually remembered what had happened. She shrugged, and then pointed at her, somewhat devilishly. “That’s that temper of yours, isn’t it?”

Eilidh looked down sheepishly. “Yeah, it is. Should we go on a walk?”

“Walk” was a generous label for what they really engaged in, just a brief constitutional down the end of the road and back. But there was plenty out there to keep both Eilidh and her grandmother stimulated, even at the slow pace in which they moved. Blooming flowers, sounds of the street, people to watch, the feeling of the sun. The world continued on. And it had been so many years since Eilidh had appreciated this area, she took her time to take it all in before they returned back to the house—which felt decidedly empty when Eilidh closed and locked the door again.

As the days wore on, Eilidh soon realized that her thought about the empty house was not to be an anomaly. Her parents left for the hospital early in the morning, and didn’t come back usually until after Eilidh had made dinner. In between then, Eilidh wandered the halls of her childhood home, mulling how it no longer seemed as comforting as it once had.

She saw pictures of herself and Will on the mantle and bookshelves. His shoes were still by the door, his coat on the rack. Even in the bathroom, his razor sat unused in the cabinet, his toothbrush in the cup on the sink. He had been buried now for a week but everything about the house seemed to indicate he would come walking through the door any minute, alive and well. Eilidh couldn’t help thinking that he would whenever she heard footsteps.

As different as the house now felt, though, it was still her home. Eilidh made an effort to notice the things that reminded her of this fact. The sheets were still a little scratchy like they had been when she was little. One of the legs of the dining room table sported a few scratches from where Eilidh and Will had dug the tines of a fork over the wood in a moment of foolhardy childishness. Things that her parents could have changed or fixed over the years, and didn’t. Constants that Eilidh now saw as signs that this was indeed her home, and not just another house in London.

She tired to vary her days with other activities she could take advantage of with her grandmother. All of her art supplies from her school days were still here, so Eilidh dug them out of the drawer and they painted for a few afternoons. Eilidh peeked over at Granny’s paper every once in a while, impressed to see that even in its somewhat garbled state, her grandmother’s vase of daffodils was a better attempt than her own botched depiction of the Swilcan Bridge on the Old Course. When they grew tired of painting, they went into the yard and tended to the small garden in which her parents had begun to grow vegetables. They turned on the radio and and danced to whatever was playing, one of Granny’s favorite pastimes from the old days; she had always been able to last the longest at a cèilidh. Glenn Miller wasn’t exactly the same, but it filled the void at least. Anything to keep Granny occupied.

If she wasn’t occupied, her grandmother asked a lot of questions. Why they were in London? Because of Will. Then where was he? Underground, he was killed. When they could leave? Not for a long time. Where were her parents? At the hospital. Would they be attacked? I don’t know.

Within a few days of her arrival, Eilidh’s father had showed her the bomb shelter in the yard. It had been added when Eilidh had been in Scotland, so she never saw how it had been installed—a metal shed-like structure with a domed roof, tucked into four feet of earth. Inside were rough wooden bunks, torches, canned food, bottles of water, and other essential items her parents had stockpiled away. Once Eilidh saw it, she immediately made sure to put some things that would appeal to herself and Granny in it, but it was still a depressing sight. If there was one place where a person could get bored and restless, it would have been in there. She fervently prayed the Germans would soon grow bored of dropping bombs on them. 

The high-pitched whine of the air raid siren woke Eilidh with a start. Her disorientation only lasted a minute, though; the sound was unmistakable. “Mum? Dad?” she shouted from her room, struggling to find her coat and shoes in the dark. She abandoned them hopelessly and wrapped herself in a quilt instead.

Her parents were already out of their bed, waking up Granny in the next room. “Mum, we’ve got to go, now!” her father was saying, urging her out of bed and into a jacket. But Granny moved slowly on the best of days and now, with the loud commotion of the bombs and the siren, was obstinate.

“You’re mad, James—you want to go outside—in this?!” she argued. The sentence came out in pieces, barely audible above the din. “I’m staying here.”

Outside, the bombs fell. BOOM. BOOM. The windows trembled from their impact. Flashes of yellow light crept through the curtains that had been drawn for the blackout, illuminating the room with fire for a second. In the brief moment when she could see, Eilidh noted the unmistakable worry in her parents’ faces.

“Mum, this whole house might be flattened!” Eilidh’s father shot back. “Now come on, we’re going! The shelter is right in the back—” As he spoke, the house shuddered violently. Eilidh crouched down instinctively, glancing up at the ceiling with terror, which was now sprinkling dust on them from the force of the blast. She glanced back at her parents and grandmother, biting her lip until it bled so she didn’t panic. Granny wasn’t going to be moving any time soon; they all knew it.

“Eilidh, get to the shelter,” her mother muttered to her.

“But—”

“We’ll be right behind you, now go!” Eilidh’s mother glared at her so fiercely Eilidh acquiesced without further argument, tripping over her own feet in her haste to fly down the stairs and into the garden.

Even the short sprint from the door to the shelter was exhilarating—the world seemed to be collapsing around her. In the open air, Eilidh felt every bomb dropped through her entire body. They shook the ground she ran on and electrified the air she breathed, sparking her insides with energy and making the hair on back of her neck stand up. The RAF was doing its job and anti-aircraft weaponry answered each Luftwaffe plane with a blast of flak, but it did little to calm the adrenaline that pumped through Eilidh’s blood, so galvanizing that she hardly acknowledged the pricks of pain on the soles of her socked feet from the gravel path leading to the shelter. She kept her eyes trained on it coming closer and closer, not daring to peek to the sky even for a second. She threw the door open finally after fumbling with the latch, ducking and scrambling inside. She turned around, hoping, expecting, to see her parents and grandmother close behind like her mother had promised.

But the yard was empty.

Eilidh froze in disbelief—Surely they couldn’t still be inside?—and then collected herself enough to climb halfway out of the shelter, alarmed. It was dark and she had to strain her eyes between the intermittent flashes of light, but there was no one coming toward her in the gloom, and it was impossible to try and see what was going on through the windows with the blinds shut. Eilidh knelt on the steps of the shelter, half-exposed, her mind racing. What to do. What to do!? As far as she knew, her parents were still in the house, trying to convince Granny to leave its safety and brave the outdoors to reach the shelter. They’ll never convince her, Eilidh thought wildly, She’s as stubborn as a mule, she won’t go, not unless they drag her out kicking and screaming—

Some manic force nearly took over Eilidh then, imagining the scene inside. I’ve got to go help them, she thought. Of course she won’t go with them, but me—I’ve been the one with her all these years, I’m the one who’s been taking care of her—She forced herself to do what she had been too scared to do a minute before and looked up, watching the shadowed aircraft and clouds of smoke in the sky, a futile attempt to guess when would be safest when she knew in reality it was all up to chance, but she readied her feet anyway, steeled her mind—

NOW—!

And the world exploded. The sky seemed to split and a deafening CRACK ripped from the tear in the air, accompanied by a blinding flare somewhere not far from the front of the house. Eilidh cowered and felt herself being thrown by the blazing hot force of a shell back into the shelter. She landed haphazardly on the hard floor but ignored the bruise she felt on her shoulder, and, for a moment, the thought of her family that had just gripped her a moment earlier, scrambling to cover her head and make herself as small as possible. The roof shook and the air was filled with the screaming siren, whirring engines, deep ack ack bursts, noise Eilidh was dimly amazed to register at all now that her ears were ringing so loudly her head ached. She pressed her arms against them and held her eyes shut tight, trying to block the sounds out and not see the fire, but when she tried to ignore the present, her mind drifted, to the past, to Will. Is this the last thing he had heard, the last thing he had felt? The thought tormented her, and she contorted herself into a ball, wishing she was anywhere but here and that her memories were anything but what they were.

[ravenkinnie]

top league moments according to me (definitely forgot most of them it's an old game)

1 every time they removed an extra map, essentially rendering the game to one whole map. when I tell people it's one map they look at me like IM crazy. sims 2 had more maps than league

2 some events were flops but some lines are peak, star guardian and the bilgewater one. even the ruination flop deserves some recognition because, while the event flopped, the book it spawned was, in fact, good so it cancels out

3 2018 KDA worlds performance where people were complaining that it feels like spent all their money on seraphine and couldn't finish rendering everybody else - shout out to the YouTube comment that said sth like "kaisas face... she's really got different DNA" it makes me laugh every time I remember. shout out to villain music video tho im willing to believe they JUST got out of that debt and went right back in because of how insane all the textures are in it

4 when jason spisak got cancelled for liking jilco tweets and then riot said he can't talk about them anymore cause it only causes problems. and then he dated a jinx cosplayer??? a lot of questions that will be left unanswered here

5 I know this is a new moment but the part of 'still here' cinematic with kindred - BANGER but particularly the part where tryndamere is looking at the lamb and the lamb transforms into ashe, literally felt my blood pump faster

6 this entire toy line WHO approved these faces I just want to talk

7 the entire unlocked line is amazing tho and I say this as someone who's been a comics fan for years and has to witness my faves being butchered into the ugliest action figures known to man constantly

8 seraphines launch.... just everything about it, from the vtubing to the rumors that the guy who made her based her on his ex

9 the fact that the lore is just a jumbo mix of different canons across the whole decade and they KEEP merging them so now arcane is on main canon despite not fitting any previous canon for both cities. also zaun somehow sunk into the ocean but its also above water level partially but still lower than piltover and I'm just not sure that's how oceans work. also part of noxian government is just a being called the faceless and they never specify who that is or what they do but I assume we will find out when they make a show about it in like 2030

10 this tweet

bonus shout out to kaisa for serving levels of cunt hostile to human life in POP/STARS, she's my fave KDA member and she gets the ugliest fucking models and the ugliest fucking backgrounds, i have to support her

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

Of Magic, Miracles, and Moonlight

a Stephen Strange x OFC Romance

genre: pre-Infinity War, slow burn romance, older man/younger woman, teacher/student to friends to lovers characters: Stephen Strange, Wong, Teyla of Hadeeth (OFC), Moraine of Hadeeth (OC), additional OCs as Kamar-Taj staff rating: general audience to begin with, later chapters will contain 18+ material

Ch.One | Ch.Two | Ch.Three | Ch.Four | Ch.Five | Ch.Six

Chapter Seven (ANGST, wherein Stephen experiences a guilt induced nightmare)

Stephen had suggested that they return to the Sanctum, hoping to allow Teyla a chance to process all that had happened, and to begin to grieve.  She had declined, her eyes brimming with determination and an eagerness to share with him, her happiest memories of her father.  He watched her move about the flat, while telling him a series of stories in a sort of stream of consciousness--leading him to realize that this was how she chose to mourn.  Eventually, she came to sit beside him on the sofa, her focus on showing him the contents of several photo albums encompassing the time she’d spent living with her dad.

In the quiet moments in between, Stephen sensed how desperately she was trying to fend off her heartbreak.  He hurt for her, but remained patient for the moment she might trust him enough to ask for what she needed.

As dusk colored the sky outside, Teyla located those pieces of her father’s work which he had saved for her, covered loosely in several layers of muslin cloth, waiting for her hand to reveal.  Worn and weary as she was, she found the fortitude to hang on just a while longer—though with each piece she unveiled, Stephen noted her tears remained barely in check

First there was a thick sketchbook that Charles had kept during the years that Teyla lived with him.  Much of its content was concerned with Teyla herself; studies of her at the breakfast table or amidst a pile of schoolbooks; sketches of her laughing, or at play; even a few which caught her sleeping--all of them created with a father’s loving eye.  Stephen enjoyed seeing this younger version of Teyla, imagining the daily joy she had brought to her father’s life.

There was a softly romantic portrait of Moraine in the nude, which Teyla explained had been painted early in their courtship; that the Artist was head over heels for his model was evident in every brushstroke.  A second painting depicted Moraine in the fertile bloom of pregnancy; set against the night sky, framed against an open window of a smaller apartment of decades ago, she was clothed in a translucent ivory nightgown, her hands resting protectively upon her protruding belly.  Stephen found it nothing short of breathtaking; a magnificently rendered image of womanhood in its unassailable glory, and beautiful with understated sensuality.

“You like this one,” Teyla observed quietly, but clearly proud of her father’s handiwork.

Stephen let out a low whistle, “This piece is amazing, Teyla. Your dad was a talented artist.”

Her voice caught a moment, but she readily agreed.

Two sculptures sat draped in linen slip cloths, lined with tyvek for extra protection from moisture; Teyla uncovered them reverently to reveal a bust of her mother—looking like some Grecian goddess—while the other captured Moraine with a wee Teyla.  Though made of marble, the piece was alive with their family bond, as mother bent low, cupping her daughter’s hands in her own, allowing both to study a small winged creature (Stephen’s mind insisted it was some sort of Hadeethan butterfly) which rested upon Teyla’s open palm.  “Fantastic,” he murmured.

“That he was,” she agreed, with a plaintive finality that voiced her sorrow.  A large, rectangular shape rested beneath the remaining storage cloth.  Teyla gasped as she slid the cloth away.  “I have…I have never seen this one…”  She bowed her head to hide the tears she could no longer hold at bay. 

Stephen draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.  She shivered against him. “He must have done this after I left Earth.  I wish…” Teyla sobbed, “I wish that I had known.”

This painting was unquestionably the finest of the works that Charles had set aside for his daughter.  A crowning achievement.  Teyla gazed wide-eyed at them from the canvas, her truth beautifully captured; the small curve of her smile, the soft fall of her hair, the unassuming kindness that lived in the depths of her doe-eyes.  She rested her chin against her palm, her hand angled so that the rich purple stone of her mood ring was visible.  She looked happy—and as though she knew the secret to happiness and would share it freely if only the viewer could awaken her image to speak aloud.  Walter Charles had painted the quiet miracle that had brought him fulfillment as no other soul in the world ever had, in a language that articulated his heart as no written or spoken word ever could.

Surely Teyla understood the image for all it had meant to her father.  She breathed hard several times, then made a desperate, strangled sound, before nestling her face in the crook of Stephen’s neck.   

The bitter taste of remorse filled his mouth, and Stephen’s hands flared with fresh spikes of pain, as he considered the talented hands that had created this striking portrait of a beloved daughter.  An artist’s hands that might have been given more time to share his talents with the world, if only a ‘hot-shot genius doctor’ had actually cared about the patients that had sought his help. The painting seemed infused with the soft light of her gentle spirit, imbued with all the love her father held for her.  An exceptional creation—and I failed the man without a second look back.

“I’m so sorry, Teyla,” he whispered, “So, so sorry.  I’d give anything to make this right…”

She was shaking her head against his words, “Please, Doctor, please just take me from this place.  I cannot bear this pain inside my heart.  I feel my father as though he is near, yet I will never hear his voice or feel the comfort of his embrace again.” 

“Of course,” he assured her, “Whatever you need, honey.”  He released her as gently as he could, to conjure a portal back to the sanctuary of Bleecker Street.

Understandably, Teyla had no appetite, but at Stephen’s stern insistence, she ate a little yogurt, and a few slices of mango, before retiring to the small room he directed her to for the night.  Though her body’s clock was still set to Kathmandu time—where it was early afternoon--he had a hunch he could coax her into some healing sleep.  Failing that, he would employ a small sandman spell, though that turned out to be unnecessary.

Feeling both the weight of his responsibility as her mentor, and the gnawing guilt that he might’ve made a difference in the quality and length of her father’s final days, Stephen sat at Teyla’s bedside, watching over her a while.  Watching as her breathing evened out and the lines of her body softened, knowing she had found the sort of solace—for a time—that he’d been unable to give her.  When satisfied she rested easy, he headed to his own room, planning to immerse himself in study, certain the peace of sleep would elude him—which was precisely as he deserved.

It was that same old dream again, but with a wicked twist.  He dreamed it far less frequently these days, and if he took the time to analyze just why, Stephen would realize it was because he had finally shed much of the guilt which he had carried for more than half a lifetime.  Accepting that he bore full responsibility for his horrific accident, facing his demons in the aftermath, and recognizing that his medical career had never been of one of true service to others, had been a struggle that rivaled the constant physical challenges presented by his ruined hands.  Only the enlightenment that had come to him with his studies in the mystic arts had enabled him to accept the truth about himself, humbling him and inspiring him to be a better man than ever in his life.

His dream-self stood—as he always did--on the shore of one of the smaller Fremont Lakes, drinking a can of Coors, laughing with his friends, and flirting with the prettiest of his sister’s high school classmates.  He was only weeks away from beginning freshman year, and Stephen had been thinking that a little fling with Chloe Butler might be the perfect way to end the summer before heading off to study medicine at Creighton University.  His sister Donna had swum out toward the the center of the lake, headed for the swim platform to bask in the afternoon sun—swimming as effortlessly as she’d done at least a hundred times before, and he frankly wasn’t paying much attention. He should have been; if he had been, he might have reached her minutes sooner, reached her in time to keep her from going under that last time.

In reality, he’d only heard her call his name once, but in the dreams, her frightened voice always carried across the water to him, repeatedly calling for help, calling his name, begging him to save her.  When he realized she was in trouble, he’d shucked off his scuffed leather boat shoes, the first of the young men on the narrow strip of beach to dive in, swimming frantically in her direction.  He was never to know for certain what had put her in distress; without a full autopsy (their mother couldn’t bear the thought of one), the best explanation they’d been given was a seizure of sorts, or something as innocuous as an ill-timed cramp.  And though his lungs burned with his effort to reach her, Stephen was still a dozen yards away when Donna sank below the surface with heartbreaking finality. 

In his dream, he relived again his frantic search for her in the dark depths of the lake, finally finding her, bringing her to shore, and breaking down after he was unable to resuscitate her.  But this time, instead of waking sweat-soaked and heart hammering the insistent beat of his failure and his guilt, the nightmare continued.  Though she was long dead and buried, Donna was there, in the flower of eternal youth, riding passenger with him in his Lamborghini Huracan.  You failed me, Stephen, she intoned, her eyes flashing with bitter accusation; you were my older brother and you were supposed to look out for me, but you failed miserably; and as the rain began to pound the windshield, she questioned him without remorse:  how many others did you fail in your egotistical short sightedness?   

Stephen faced her, helpless to change the past, knowing his own fate was already sealed; in moments would come the crash and his car would hurtle off the road, breaking his hands beyond repair, robbing him of the life he’d worked so single-mindedly to establish for himself.  You failed me, Stephen, she repeated, as you always fail the ones in greatest need…and just before the collision, Donna’s face transformed, and she was Teyla, but not angry--only sad, her indictments delivered quietly, regretfully, with a tenderness that matched her spirit in the waking world.  You failed him, Stephen Strange; a better man might have saved my father.  Somehow her words stung even more, for the gentle way in which she delivered them.  You were ever selfish, and blind to the needs of others, so perhaps there is some justice in your fate, after all.  And then she was gone, as his car spun and spun, and the pain was excruciating, and he knew in that moment that he deserved the pain, he deserved to have his old life ripped away…and if he spent a hundred years expunging his guilt through selfless service, he could never erase the misery, the loss, the deaths, of those he’d failed.  His dear, doomed sister.  Walter Charles, and those patients, who, like him, were not challenge enough to merit his valuable time and attention.  And now, his gentle Teyla…

“Stephen”.  Softly, yet urgently, spoken. “Stephen, you must awaken.”  A concerned, familiar voice, summoning him away from his pain and self-recrimination.  Pulling him from the depths of his dream.  A hand—her hand--upon his shoulder, soft but insistent, lightly shaking him back to consciousness.

“Teyla,” he murmured, still caught in the nightmare.  He needed to tell her.  Wanted to, but that would only bring her pain.  “Teyla…”

“Yes, I am here,” she answered, “I am here, Stephen.  Open your eyes.  See me beside you and know that all is well.”

His eyes fluttered open, unable to focus at first, and his heart was pounding, just as it always did in the wake of that nightmare.  Her hand on his cheek was soft and cool, her face hovering above his quietly merciful, the ends of her hair just brushing his skin. Teyla of Hadeeth.  How was she here, sympathetic as she tried to soothe him, the embodiment of clemency when he deserved only her scorn?  “Teyla?” he whispered, wondering if she was just the remains of his dream, and would vanish like mist if he dared to trust she was real.

“Yes, Stephen,” she answered patiently, “Leave those painful memories behind.  You must not torment yourself so.” Despite the grief he knew dwelled in her heart, her focus seemed to be solely on comforting him.  

“I was dreaming,” he rasped, feeling he ought to explain, and hoping he didn’t appear as weak as he felt.

“I know,” she told him, the calm of her voice and in her touch beginning to banish the anguish that had enveloped him.  “I dreamt as well, Stephen.  I saw enough to know, and I felt your distress, and now I am here because you are more than worthy of mercy—but such mercy must begin with yourself.”  She laid a hand over his heart, and an unexpected warmth spread through his chest.

Amazed at her perception, Stephen searched her eyes, reading her sincerity, unbelieving that redemption could be so easily gained.  He shook his head to clear away the vestiges of his nightmare, sitting up against the headboard.  He laid his hand atop hers, swearing he could feel the beautiful life force that inhabited her slender form.  “Teyla,” he confessed, “If you knew the truth, you might not be so generous…”

Her eyes told him before she spoke, that she was well aware of the part he’d played in her father’s story. “I already know all that I need to know, Stephen.”  His given name upon her lips, spoken without a hint of her usual formality, was a balm against his shame.  “You have paid a heavy penance for your past mistakes; you need punish yourself no longer.”

Stephen breathed deeply and closed his eyes, feeling entirely unworthy of the absolution she was offering.  “Do you understand, Teyla?  Your own father…”

She cupped a hand against his cheek, silencing him with a wise, sweet smile.  “I assure you, Stephen—I understand it all…and I promise you that you are not the man you were in those days.”  He opened his eyes, finding only compassion in her own.  “You have become your best self, through trial and pain.  I swear that you are now the man you were destined to become…but you must forgive yourself--for that will finally free you from this burden of guilt that weighs upon you so.”

Though awestruck by her heart’s true generosity, Stephen suddenly felt tired enough to sleep for a week.  “Yes,” she smiled, relieved on his behalf, “You must rest a while now, and come the day this darkness will fade to naught.”  Come morning he would wonder too, if she’d worked some gentle magic by simple touch alone. 

At her prompting, Stephen slid back down onto his pillow, allowing her to tuck the blanket around him.  He caught her hand in his before she stood up to leave; she didn’t seem surprised.  “You are most welcome, Stephen Strange,” she told him, then headed to his door.

“Just tell me this,” he said, a ghost of his usual cheekiness restored, so that she turned back to him from the doorway, “How are you so young, and yet so wise, Teyla of Hadeeth?”

She raised a brow—quite insouciantly—and he saw in her a bit of Moraine’s regal bearing, as she proudly replied, “I am both my mother’s daughter, and my father’s child as well.  I dare to believe that the best of both of them have found their union in me.”  Teyla gave a little shrug, and left the room—though the surprising smile she left upon Stephen’s face lasted long enough to see him into a more peaceful sleep of his own.  

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buy me a coffee?☕

[alittleofsomethingarts]

So, everyone, I got a story about this picture right here. I will include some pics from the process and there's even a moral at the end.

So the client approached me about it, I sketched it out, standard affair. It was supposed to be a gif image and I imagined her moving side to side while her sword glowed.

Mistake number one I did not plan out the side to side movements. This was the only rough I did before I started rendering it.

"Wow this is going to be so cool" I thought.

"This is going to be a piece of cake"

I wanted to animate it on Clip Studio Paint EX that I got this year specifically so I could do animation there.

I ended up drawing all the assets and I was happy with them. Side note, in pixelated animation it is better to use as little colors as possible, and I ended up having a lot more than 256 colors with the colored lineart here n stuff. That was my mistake number two. I really need to work on that.

I warmed my hands as the program was opening, ready to do some animation, only to come across a very unexpected problem.

In the end I have made a reddit post describing it, but you can basically see the results of it in this test animation

I spent an entire freaking day trying to figure out what to do with the blurring. It seems that it functions as intended, but it would be really nice if CSP didn't do this. I had to go back to photoshop to do the actual animation.

... I couldn't quite do the diagonal movement I wanted. Right, so I settled on this.

I drew like 3 movement frames for the white and blue cape and ended up not using it because it looked awful. And the sleeve movement is so wrong.

This is why you test these things, guys! In sketch phase!

So I made these static gifs, thinking this is probably over now and I did a good job.

Nope. Not even close.

My big brain missed one crucial detail in the initial sketching phase...

IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A BIG BEEFY GLOWING SWORD!

To be fair the initial glow was cool, the client didn't realize what I've been drawing. So we both missed it. Okay, fine. I decided to just redraw the glow, thankfully it didn't take long at all.

... Right we got another problem. How do I animate a sudden burst of energy coming from the sword?

... Oh no.

My head drew a blank.

I felt... I felt... Like a failure. I failed the client. I thought I could do this but it's not right.

I decided to slap a glowing effect and hide the burst under a white screen.

I couldn't imagine anything better.

Despair, utter despair.

In the end the version that looked the best was this one.

Feeling horrible, I decided to make a free quickie for the client to make up for my failures.

I poured my disappointment with myself and my ability to come up with cool animation into this little tiny owl that did nothing wrong. I gave her the most adorable but angry stare I could muster.

She's angry because she's short

... too short for this picture.

The client assured me that my work was fully acceptable from start to finish and that it's all great. That I shouldn't beat myself up.

But I usually get it all from the very beginning, you see. I typically don't do too much revisions. This kind of situation is not common. I wasn't able to see my clients needs and make the kind of gif that was needed from the beginning.

And I've been tipped extra for this picture too.

It's like the money I got was not quite worth the gif I ended up with.

I suppose it covered the extra useless work I did drawing the assets, but... I feel guilty, like I ripped off the client.

If I just needed to draw the static gif with some glow I could've made it cheaper.

Perhaps I undervalue myself and it costs more than I charged for it.

I don't know.

The moral of the story is DO TEST ANIMATIONS IN SKETCH PHASE. ALWAYS. FOR EVERYTHING.

I swear I got it the first time, why make this mistake so many years later? smh...

[hermannsprecursors]

COMMISSIONS OPEN!!

Hey! I'm doing what I've always felt guilty about doing since I started drawing (and was always too afraid to do since I spent so long convincing myself my art wasn't worth anything)--

I'm opening commissions!

I've just recently found myself and my family in need of some extra money, especially when it comes to my father's medical bills, and my application fees for university. I'm currently not employed either because of school and my own disabilities. So, no pressure whatsoever! I just would to have some extra income so I can both be self-sustaining and help my father, because the odd jobs I pick up and the $2-5 tarot readings aren't exactly covering it (said tarot readings are also available, dm if interested!).

Don't worry, my fees are modest :)

Transcript

BUST Lineart - $2, + $2 per additional character Flat color - $5, + $3 per additional character Cell shading - $7, + $5 per additional character Detailed shading - $10, + $5 per additional character

HALF-BODY Lineart - $4, +$2 per additional character Flat color - $7, + $4 per additional character Cell shading - $10, + $7 per additional character Detailed shading - $13, + $7 per additional character

FULL BODY

Lineart - $6, + $4 per additional character Flat color - $10, + $6 per additional character Cell shading - $14, + $10 per additional character Detailed shading - $17, + $10 per additional character

FAKE ANIME SCREENSHOTS $30-60 each, dependent on the desired complexity Any number of characters! I can redraw existing screencaps, or create something entirely new with your guidance.

RENDERED PAINTINGS $60-80 Only so expensive because they take so long (NOT INCLUDED IN REFERENCE PHOTO) please only 1-2 characters for these! Any more and I will charge EXTRA or may deny your commission entirely.

TERMS OF SERVICE

I have the right to deny any commission request

Art will be received within 2-5 days of the commission request

I may post the artwork on my blog for promotional purposes! If you're uncomfortable with this, PLEASE let me know, and I will refrain

I require full payment up front. If, for whatever reason, I deny your commission or cannot get it to you in a timely manner, you will get a full refund

WILL DO

OCs

Canon characters

Ships

Some animals

Mild blood/gore

Mildly suggestive

WILL NOT DO

NSFW

Heavy gore

Mech (can't draw em yet)

Furries (same as above ^)

Proship content

More that 10 characters in one piece

OTHER INFORMATION

As I am a minor and am therefore limited in what my bank will let me do, I can ONLY TAKE PAYMENT THROUGH CASHAPP

My prices are in USD! Since I can only use Cashapp, my commissions are unfortunately limited to only the US and the UK.

Remember that I love you guys so so so much for supporting me <3

You can contact me here or through discord (also hermannsprecursors) if you're interested! Thank you all!

[worriedvision]

I feel like hurting so how about a chara of your choice who joins the fatui after chara betrays them (intentional or not, could be chara used reader for their nation's benefit or even used them only to toss them aside when they're done, I leave my suffering in your capable hands). Extra: chara finds out after fighting some fatuus and see reader appear with backup 👀

-🪦

Picking Gorou for this one lol, gender neutral reader! Angst in case you couldn't tell lol

--

You worked as a spy of sorts for the resistance, leaking any important information to Gorou who would tell Kokomi of the information. Gorou specifically said this was to keep you safe from being found talking to her excellency about this, and he treated you like one of the soldiers. You spent time with him, enjoying the banter you had...

...only to feel betrayed when he suddenly kicks you out during the vision hunt decree, putting you at risk. It just so happened a harbinger came across you, knowing you were working for the resistance. Instead of killing a possible spy of the Fatui, they take you in to be one of them.

--

The Fatui ambush the camp Gorous team were staying in, and you were working in the sidelines giving the Fatui information on their whereabouts. At first you were reluctant, but the Fatui remind you of the doggy general that had so cruelly kicked you out, no safety whatsoever during this war. You should be thankful for the Fatui, you're being told repeatedly.

So, you gave the information, and they don't send in enough people to efficiently render Gorous team useless. Your superior calls for emergency backup, and you sprint in with everyone else.

You see Gorou yelling orders to his fellow soldiers, clearly not seeing you, and he turns to face the enemy. When he locks eyes with you, his gaze hardens. Grip on his bow stronger, he realises that chances are, you had joined the Fatui because of his actions.

"Retreat!" Gorou yells, running with his soldiers and abandoning the materials your team was after. Your superior walks over, patting you on the back for reassurance.

"Good job." They state. "At least you aren't too cowardly to fight a former ally."

[makriiii]

Caught VIII (Arthur Morgan × f!reader)

Word count: 3.5k

Authors notes: Double spaces...

Warnings: 18+, angst, cursing, gun violence, blood & gore.

Ao3 or wattpad!

@thatlittlered

♡

Caught VIII

A final wipe across the veneer on Charles' shotgun rendered it perfectly clean. The least you could do after borrowing it

After getting all that money just days ago you decided that perhaps it was a good time to get your own shotgun again after losing your last one somewhere up in the Grizzlies.

An extra pair of clothes too. Hard to do much with these worn and dirty clothes.

Washing them and having to get naked was out of the question after the creek. Your socks however had gotten a wash, entirely unwarranted, but they did. Courtesy of Arthur.

You shuddered at the thought of Arthur's body so close to you. Absolutely nothing covering him.

God. You shook the thought out of your head, jumping out of your seat to keep your mind on something other than Arthurs bare body.

Charles was sitting up against a tree, his eyes shut out the world. And you didn't want to startle him, or really bother him, so you simply laid his clean gun beside him and continued to your mount.

You hadnt spent any of the money you got two days ago, which would be more than enough to hook yourself up with a shirt that lacked a hole, and pants void of soot.

It'd been a day since you had seen Arthur. Not sure what activities he was off doing, you were just glad you weren't a part of it.

Your horse stood still for only as long as the time you took to bounce on, pulling away from the tie racks towards town once you got your seat.

Come to think of it, you really hadn't had much time to yourself throughout this entire ordeal.

Often, you'd be off on your own, avoiding most of the company that was brought through by Colms indifferent attitude toward any men who wanted to join.

You'd stick to a select few who you resonated with and had more of a long standing membership with, but those days had passed.

Looking down to the hole that grew in size each day on your dirty shirt, revealing your bandage more and more. You wondered just what clothes you'd find in Valentine. Those surface level thoughts growing deeper and deeper.

Was this really it? Just being handed off into a new gang, essentially, and continuing on your merry way? Certainly wasn't accounted for when you first got caught.

More so was constantly considering that man that somehow found himself in your mind every so often. Still baffled that you had let him sleep in a bed with you.

The money was worth it, you had to reason. Logical reasoning, as it was, was the only thing keeping you from thinking too much further on other things that you were certain to never name.

The longer you sat in your thoughts, the more you barely realized just how close you were to town, completely zoned out and not even consciously taking in your surroundings.

It wasn't until you heard a loud argument that you were finally yanked away from the thoughts in your head.

You looked to the cause of the voices that grew into shouting that you recognized someone from the bar.

The man with the bowler hat. Now you had a mighty fun time with him from what you could recall, and felt you should aid him in some way.

Dismounting and hitching, you strode over, hand laid over your revolver like a snake ready to coil itself around its prey.

You couldn't really tell what it was all about, but the man arguing with your pal took to shoving.

You laid your hand on your friend's shoulder, to get both his attention and the one he was bickering with.

"I hope I'm not too much a bother, but we drank together at the bar, and I figured I'd come over and say hello." You patted him with a warm smile, catching the other man off guard.

"Oh, yes." He didn't sound so sure at first, but when he examined your face further, he lit up. "Yes! I remember you. You'll never be too much a bother, I'm sure."

The other man was now silent and confused, staring daggers straight into you.

"You wouldn't mind if you showed me around town?" You could feel the angry man's eyes stare you down so hard you'd think he was trying to kill you with it.

Your friend looked more than delighted, likely mostly that you had stopped the fight.

"I can, I would not mind at all." He nods his head with an awkward laugh and turns around cautiously to the middle of town, making sure you're not far behind.

"Stop." The smile that had been on both your faces hardened into a more nervous glance. The man wasn't so quick to let you both off.

"I don't think you know me. But I know you." His words hit you like rocks, your stomach dropping like one too.

You turned around slowly to look him in the eye. Your hand ready to strangle your gun.

It wasn't an ideal place to have a shoot out, but when was any situation like this ideal?

The most sinister look waved over the man's face, his dark hat and trench coat adding to the shadow that already covered him.

"I think Colm'd love to see you, Miss. I don't forget faces so easy."

Your breath hitched, feeling your face go cold. You couldn't recall seeing this man from anywhere, and it hurt your head to think on it so hard.

Running through all the possibilities, you thought back to the time Arthur let all your ex-members run off.

You could feel your friend's confusion and uncomfortable demeanor as he shifted his weight nervously.

"I'm sorry, I don't know nobody named Colm. I think you got me mistaken." You turned away, but before you could fully walk off with your pal, your wrist was grabbed by somethin fierce.

You twisted back around, staring him straight down.

"Now you let her go." Your buddy demands, between the two of you, trying to push off the man's hold on you, though he wasn't much taller than you, in fact a bit shorter, and didn't seem to have much in terms of muscling the other, much younger man away.

He stumbles back with an angry scoff when he got another hearty shove.

"This isn't your business old man. Fuck off." He snarls, grabbing you tighter in response.

You hadn't come here to get manhandled again, Arthur was your tipping point. You had already had enough of Arthur.

With all the might you could muster into one leg, you landed it straight on his sensitive areas, kneeing his chest as he keeled over with a massive groan.

As soon as he was on the ground, you stood over him with your gun pointed lowly, almost shy with how you tried to hide it from other prying eyes.

"I want no trouble, you hear?" You crouched down next to the seeming O'Driscoll. A name you couldn't associate with yourself anymore.

He was quiet, staring up at you with eyes that burned like a swarm of angry hornets.

You pushed your gun into the underneath of his chin, a disgusted scowl forming on your face.

"There's law right around that corner there." It was less a threat and more a means to keep them off your tail instead.

He squirmed underneath the barrel of your gun. "I'd prefer to spare myself the dirty hands I'd get by killin you here."

This wasn't something youd normally do, but finally having control over your situation eased the anger you still held for Arthur and the way he had disrespected you for weeks.

The O'Driscoll nodded with much angst, his brows still held tightly together, and his hands around his neck to half shield himself.

You dug your gun in deep before you realesed the pressure and shooed him off with your foot.

"Jesus christ." Your friend drawls, rubbing the back of his head, his hat slightly riding up as he does. "I should thank you, I suppose, really."

Your smile returned once your ex gang member scurried off into town somewhere. You knew it was a mistake to let him go.

"Well, I couldn't go and watch the man who paid for my drinks get pushed around." You hook your arm around his, walking him into the main street with you. "What'd he want with you anyway?"

He shrugged, dismissing it as if it happened often. "He was tryna stick me up, but he already did earlier this week."

A sudden cough fires out of you, meant to be a laugh, but you didn't want to do that in front of this poor man.

"Really he did? Out in the middle of town?"

"Yeah. I think they visit town quite often. Doing something, not sure what."

This piqued your interest. Certainly. More O'Driscolls in town, and none the less the ones who saw your face at Six point cabin.

If his words were true - that meant there's many more of them somewhere here. And suddenly, you felt the weight of the world on you. You didn't want to be here anymore.

"Well, what's your name?" He questioned, looking over to you, pulling you out of your thoughts once again, you hadn't even realized you didn't reply to him.

"Y/n L/n." You met his eye expectantly in return.

"It's nice to finally get your name Miss L/n." His hand pats yours kindly. "You can just call me David."

You returned formalities and continued walking slowly with him. He commented on the ever growing hole in your shirt sleeve, which prompted you to tell him the vibrant story of what predicament you found yourself in, and your quest for clothes.

He nodded his head along with your story, glancing around every so often on the lookout for more malicious men.

Once you finished the rundown, he offered to help you, as there wasn't really a place to get clothes here in town.

"I still have clothes at my cabin not far from here, my late wifes' clothing." You could hear the small strain in his voice when he mentioned her, which made you assume she had passed.

"Oh no, you don't have to do anything for me, David. Honest." You did your best to comfort him without bringing any of it up.

He shakes his head, releasing his arm from yours to gather his horse.

"I insist, you saved me. Plus, I have no need for clothes like that, seeing as I don't wear them." The initial glum in his voice disappeared as fast as it came, playing it off with a joke.

You felt bad, but felt bad if you didnt accept.

You mounted your horse not far from him and followed him to his cabin.

The ride lead down a forested path, the breeze whistled through the trees, and chatter from birds calmed your nerves from the O'Driscoll encounter.

All along the way with David, you conversed with him, though this time, actual talking, rather than some drunken slew you both spat out.

-

You were half way out of town now, having ran by the gunsmith for a new shotgun that now laid on your back with clean clothes.

David had told you about his wife, and how you reminded him of her. It was an hour or so you had spent engaging in conversation with him.

The worry of O'Driscolls and Arthurs nagging hadn't crossed your mind the entire time, which left you feeling more even.

He left you with a few different sets of clothes, all that fit you well.

While he gathered them for you, he told you the story of just why he could give you these clothes. You could tell how much he loved her and it broke your heart to hear how she lost her life while out hunting a bounty.

You had left a stark 50$ on his table before you left, knowing he wouldn't have accepted it otherwise. It was a large sum, but he was more than deserving.

As your horse made it further back to camp, the shadows around you grew as the sun's light dimmed behind the horizon.

Which made it more difficult to see who was walking on the side of the road up ahead. You squinted your eyes when you swore you recognized the man.

He turned his head toward the horse and rider approaching him from behind.

That face. Just as clear as the day you first saw him in the mountains. But why on earth was he here and without a horse?

"Arthur?" You kicked your horse into a small trot before you slowed her when you caught up to him. "Why are you walking?"

You could already tell he wasn't in a good mood, his huffing made that clear.

"Horse ran off." He replied shortly, entirely flat.

"Horse ran off." You repeated without hesitation in a mocking snicker, slapping your knee to add to his disdain.

"Shut your mouth, y/n. You always pick the worst times to play your bullshit."

"Oh boy. You're laughable, Arthur." Tears pricked your eyes at the thought of him falling off his horse. The man, as big and tough he liked to be, still fell.

He grumbled something under his breath. His stomping became more apparent with your teasing.

"Get outta here." He tries shooing your horse away with his hands and the clicking of his tongue, but to no avail. She hardly acknowledged it. "Have you got nothing better to do?"

"I just got done with everything I needed to do. The next is making your life more difficult." You snide, relaxing back on your horse to make it apparent that you weren't going to buzz off just yet.

"Right, then you can take me to my horse." Without warning, he jumps on the back of yours, his grimy hands at the sides of your waist.

You slap them away from you and give him a harsh stare from him right behind you.

"I didn't say shit for yes?" You growl, about ready to shove him off. "Now off with you. I don't ferry people around."

His face remained indifferent, not budging an inch from behind you.

"Before dark would be preferable." He returns, completely ignoring your demand.

"Okay, well I suppose I shall just guess what direction your damn horse went?" You snap at him, your playful attitude dissipating in place of irritation.

He points across, slightly in the way you already came, over, and across a hill.

You ask for a trot back in that direction, your mare not too all happy at Arthurs joining on her back. You couldn't agree more with her attitude.

"How'd you fall off?" You question before you hit a steep incline and his hands clamped back down on your sides to keep him from sliding off.

Your brows knit together, but you had done the same with him and didn't feel like fighting him more.

"Raiders popped out the bushes." He remained vague, a small red over his cheeks if you could see right with the every few glances you sent his way.

"That it?" You chuckle in disbelief. He was the only one you could pry like this without feeling annoying. Well, you felt annoying but that was entirely the point for him.

He stays silent for a moment. His discontent so strong you swore the town could feel it from here.

"How'd you get these clothes?" He questions, ignoring you again. Clearly there had to be more that he kept from you.

You hummed as you capped the hill Arthur directed you over, a deep and rich red sun half blinds you, before you adjust and see the colours of the sunset growing into different shades of orange and pink.

"From a friend." You finally respond, having been mesmerized by the day being pushed away by the moon and the stars behind you.

The trail was calm, and as you looked down, you saw a set of fresh hoofprints. Though if from Arthur's horse, you couldn't be sure, but it was worth a ways to walk.

From where the sun set, you had to turn your head all the way over, so you took out your feet from the stirrups and sat sideways on the saddle.

Arthur slid his hands off you as did this, eyeing you with confusion.

You cocked your head to meet his eye. His face graced by the soft colours of the sunset, his eyes reflecting them back. He had a bit of dirt smudged on it, no doubt from his fall, but that didn't change how it looked in the light.

His face just seconds ago had been tense with irritation, now his lips gave way to a soft, albeit, lofty smile.

"What'd I do to earn that look from you?" He quips, his grin splitting his cheeks when you coil back, an eyebrow extending upwards.

Perhaps you hadn't noticed just how long your eyes searched his face. Your lips pursed together, fixing your gaze back on the sunset.

"Letting your imagination run off with you is tricky business, Arthur." You shook your head, wishing to simply just move on from it.

"Oh I know." A feigned look of agreement on his face. "Although, I saw that with my own two eyes, not with my imagination."

"Saw what?" You groan, wondering if he even had a definition for it.

"The way you looked at me."

You hiss air out of your teeth, rolling your eyes at him. "I would trust only a doctor to diagnose me with Stockholm syndrome."

Now you earned a hearty chuckle from him, which made you wanna push him off and just leave him even further from camp.

"Don't think it'd be that if I already let you go."

He simply wouldn't let it go. You were naive to think he would in the first place.

"I can assure you, your face isn't something most want to look at. You just have dirt all over it." You grip at your saddles horn with bitterness, trying to ward off the warmth you felt on your cheeks.

"Keep your eyes lookin for your animal. Before I have you fallin off this horse too." You added a threat to your insult before he could refute any of it.

"Alright, alright." He conceded, finally stopping with the snickering, but his smile that always had you vexed remained.

"You know, I heard there's some O'Driscolls in town. Maybe holed up somewhere." You tried changing the subject, and it worked. His eyes meeting yours with a more serious look.

"They want you that bad huh?" His voice was full of insinuation, which had you sighing with more aggravation.

"It's not because I'm whatever it is you call it - special girl- that bullshit." You wave your hand in front of his face to get him to stop before he started.

BAM!

Your retelling was cut short when a gunshot rang the air around you both, your horse jerking underneath you out of shock.

Arthur was quick to duck down and cover you, his face estranged from the previous joy he had on it.

You kicked your leg back over your saddle and made for a quick lope, Arthur all the while grasping for his shotgun at his back.

"Think those are the O'Driscolls you mentioned." He clamors and with the click of his shotgun, sent off a blast at the three that tailed you.

You hissed out a curse under your breath, dropping the reins around your saddles horn whilst you grabbed for your gun as well.

Shouts and yelling came from the men, and another that you had already regrettably let live.

A shot whizzed right by your face, your blood running cold just from the spot it had grazed you.

"Preferably alive, fools!" He screeches at the one who was already in for Arthurs bullet.

You shoot again, but an unexpected turn from your horse made you miss the men.

You glanced back ahead, a horse who was alarmed at the sudden commotion was up ahead, standing innocently.

By the time you looked back, there were another few men who had gained on you. Replenishing the ones Arthur took out already.

"Goddamnit." He reloads once more. "Hard to aim from back here."

"Well, fret not." You assure with a shout over the yelling from behind you. "I hope you can get on a horse fast."

You were still a ways away, not made any better when the thing started running off in front of you.

Now the ones being pursued, were also pursuing. God, you weren't sure this was going to go well for you.

Another blast rings out, a warmth covering your arm, yet you couldn't tell if it was just Arthurs arm making contact with yours or not.

You looked over for confirmation, but instead met by splattered blood. You nearly felt you had gotten shot again, but Arthurs grunts of pain met your ear instead of your own.