#i want to draw moore though

[angelfoodscake]

goat child (ft some authorities)

[crheativity]

GENERAL LILIA LEARNING HOW TO LOVE!

(love you romantically specifically)

IT IS ILLEGAL THAT HE DOESN'T HAVE ANY FICS IN YOUR MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: Might be OOC ? Unsure. All very cute though! 

COMMENTS: OOOOO I LOVE THIS IDEA!! And I’m sorry it took me so long to get to writing this specifically, but also just anything for Lilia. I love him but the stars were not aligned I suppose. I hope this makes up for it, sorry if it’s short!

You were like the sun to him.

Bright.

So bright that you were almost blinding. You radiated an unfamiliar warmth. You were able to set him on edge so easily - just one glance at you and he’d have to look away.

It was infuriating.

He was the famed General Lilia, the Dragon’s Hand, the Running Rampart of the Verdurous Moor. And yet, you seemed to be the first opponent he’d faced that had beaten him without even drawing a weapon.

You, a human, who was so weak and pathetic, he was willing to bet you couldn’t even lift his Magearm. 

And yet he felt himself drawn to you.

More and more he found it impossible to look away. More and more he found himself dependent on you, on that uncomfortable warmth. 

He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t.

He didn’t understand any of this. He didn’t understand you and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

But when you’d held his hand and compared the sizes, or when he’d watched you serve the most delicious food he’d ever tasted to his men, or even when you’d hide behind him after Baur had been particularly loud, he’d felt this odd feeling in his stomach. Like the frogs or bugs he’d eaten had come alive, although that surely would’ve been impossible. 

He first guessed you had lied about being magicless and that you’d put some kind of spell on him. He ruled that out quickly - he was a Fae, he knew what magic felt like. But then, what was he feeling? And how could he cure it? 

He looked over at you, sitting on the grass, preparing the camp’s food with a smile on your face. The light of the sunset seemed to strike you, basking you in pure light.

His throat felt tight. His heartbeat rang in his ears.

He tore his eyes away, forcing himself to stare at the grass, his hands, anything.

And yet he found himself looking at you again.

Maybe this is what those humans called love…?

He shoved that thought out of his head. He couldn’t love. He was incapable of feeling any love. All he had was positive regard for his allies and hatred for his foes. That’s what drove him. He couldn’t feel that way.

Could he…?

Maybe, he thought, gazing your way, with a whole lot of luck, you can teach me to understand.

But not now.

Not yet.

But one day.

♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥

[sleepyfan-blog]

Adult Conversation

Author’s note: This is the fifth Bully(ing) Cato Sicarius fic series. First. Prev. Next. 

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @i-am-a-dragon34

Warnings: ask me to tag anything that bothers you

Summary: Cato and Titus rush you off to be checked over by the apothecary post assassination attempt. Afterwards, communication happens.

You knew that Astartes were enhanced. That they could move far faster than baseline humans. But you could swear that it took no more than a couple of seconds for the two squads of fully armed and armored Astartes led by Captain Sicarius and Lieutenant Titus to run all the way back to where Macragge's Honor was moored. A pathway had already been cleared for the two squads to thunder up the main gangplank and through the primary cargo bay of the massive ship.

What felt like another handful of moments later, Lieutenant Titus was carefully setting you down on one of the astartes-sized medical cots while one of the on-duty apothecaries walked over. "Are you injured anywhere, miss?" The apothecary asked, looking you over assessingly "Captain Sicarius informed me that you were the subject of an unsuccessful assassination attempt."

"I'm fine. The assassins were unable to get anywhere near me. Captain Sicarius saw to the immediate execution or disarmament before any of them could get within striking distance." You answer honestly as the Ultramarine apothecary moves closer, resisting the temptation to sigh. "I am a little off-put by the suddenness of the attempt, but I am in perfect health." You look up and over to where Sicarius was standing - not that he had gone far from your side. He was standing at the head of the medical cot you'd been set down on, one hand still holding tight to the pommel of the blade, his other hand close to your elbow, his gaze constantly scanning his surroundings - as if there was a chance that an assassin could get onto the flagship of the Ultramarines Chapter without being spotted and watched carefully. Titus was on your other side, one hand on his bolter, the other close to your other elbow. Both Astartes were visibly tense and unhappy. Considering how close you and Lieutenant Titus had become his reaction was understanding… But you were baffled by just how much protective wrath and worry that radiated from Captain Sicarius. You'd been under the impression that he hated you - or barely tolerated your presence as a necessary irritation.

His emotional reaction spoke to that being untrue, despite his outward statements and enjoyment of teasing you at every possible time. You reach out to both of them, squeezing Titus' hand with one of your own, and tentatively touching Sicarius' elbow, unsure as to how the… Mercurial second captain would react to your touch in such a mood. You look back at the Apothecary as you speak, not wanting to deliberately call out both of their emotional states, not wanting to provoke either one of them "As I said before, I am fine, Apothecary."

"There could have been something in those many tiny dishes that our hosts fed to us. Considering the fact that their security was either corrupted to the point of allowing twenty-four would be assassins into the event or incompetent to do the same, I would strongly recommend that you be checked for any poisons or drugs in your system that could compromise you if not caught in time." Sicarius argued, scowling a little, though he leaned into your touch.

You look to Titus, not wanting to take up any more of the Apothecary's time than you already had - you really were fine, after all! Why were the both of them overreacting so much? But the lieutenant only nodded in agreement with Sicarius' words "I agree with the captain. Please, for your own health, for our peace of mind, allow Brother Apothecary Messinius to check you over and draw your blood for testing?"

Part of you wanted to argue that all of this was wholly unnecessary, but the expressions of genuine worry on both of their faces gave you pause… And it was worrying that so many would-be assassins had managed to get into an event that should have had much better security than it did. "I… Fine. If it will put your worries to rest, I'll allow it."

Titus gave you a small smile and Sicarius relaxed a little.

"Thank you." Titus murmured, his voice going warm and gentle, reaching out and tucking a stray lock of your hair that had come undone from the updo you'd put it in while you'd been astartes-sprinted back to Macragge's Honor.

~

Your post assassination attempt check-up did not take long, and Apothecary Captain (why had you been brought directly to the captain of the fourth company for treatment? Surely he had better things to do than to check up on you? But Titus and Sicarius had both insisted that Messinius himself be the one to check you over, and he didn't seem to mind…) Messinius promised to alert you and whichever of the Ultramarines who were going to be guarding you in your room aboard Macragge's honor if there was anything concerning in your bloodwork. You'd wanted to protest that you didn't need guarding while on the ship, but the worried and irritated expressions on Titus and Sicarius' faces brooked no argument.

Somehow, the news that it would be both Sicarius and Titus who were going to be guarding you personally did not surprise you one bit. Nor was the fact that Titus held you carefully in his arms while Sicarius did a thorough sweep of your personal rooms just in case someone had managed to sneak aboard the ship and plant something in your rooms to try and hurt, maim or kill you. Sicarius found nothing objectionable in your room, and Titus carried you over to your bed, kneeling down as he set you down.

Titus pressed his forehead against yours, breathing in deeply before murmuring softly "I'm glad that you are whole and unharmed, my dear." He is still taller than you, despite kneeling before you on your bed, and leans down slightly, to kiss you on the lips.

SIcarius growls "Lieutenant Titus! Control yourself- step away from her!"

Titus looked over at his brother, arching a brow and pressing closer to you "I will not step away from her. Not unless you ask me to, my dear. Why you are being so willfully blind, I do not know, but now is as good a time as any for this conversation."

You blink in abject confusion. What conversation was he talking about? You were about to ask when Sicarius tackled Titus to the floor, dragging him away from you. "You kissed her!" He hisses.

"Yes, I did. I've kissed her before." The lieutenant rumbled unapologetically, resisting the other as he tried to drag him away from you "I love you, my dear. And I'm not the only one in this room who does. Why Cato is being such an ass about it, I do not know."

"He what?" You splutter, your eyes widening in shock. You wanted to dismiss Titus' words as being utterly incorrect. Considering how much Sicarius had bullied you… And in the ways that he…

But Sicarius never did allow anyone else to bully you around. Physically or verbally. He would immediately reprimand anyone else picking on you and drag any other Ultramarine off for a brutal sparring session.

… There was also the fact that Sicarius was not disagreeing with the lieutenant's assessment.

Sicarius had, in fact, gone an interesting shade of red and was scowling at the floor, even as he continued to try and drag Titus away from you "I… That's… That's completely - how dare you… I… Might have… Inappropriate… Feelings… for you, yes. But I have the self-control not to act on them."

Titus snorted, before breaking out into wry laughter "That's not true! You try to occupy as much of her attention as you can! You sulk when she pays attention to our brothers more than you, and you get really grumpy when she and I spend time together without you."

"Considering the last time I found the two of you alone together, you had your tongue down her throat, my concerns about you two spending extended periods of time together is entirely founded. And…" Sicarius hesitated, looking at you with a hard, complicated look on his face "I… May have… More intense feelings for you than… I know what to deal with. You are beautiful and lovely and soft and intelligent and maddening! I want to see you smile, I want to hear you laugh. I want to be the reason why you are happy. I want you to smile at me the way you smile at Titus. I want… I want to hold you close, hear you murmur. Get lost in your sweet scent. Feel your heartbeat against mine. When those fools rushed at you I was… For a moment I worried that they would take you away. Hurt you and send you to a place where I could not follow for long centuries and that terrified me." Sicarius admitted, breaking down as he slumped forward in Titus' hold, tears starting to form in his dark eyes. "So I was vicious and merciless to the fools who thought you take you from me. You have stolen my hearts from me, and I… I find myself… Not… Minding this. I am… Well aware of your…" He swallows hard, looking between yourself and Titus "I know about you and Titus being close and I am jealous that he has… That he can… That you allow him to…" He growls wordlessly, burying his face in his hands, taking in deep, ragged breaths, clearly trying to calm down.

Titus' hold on his captain gentles a little, less restraining and more reassuring. "Captain… You are… Really bad at processing your own feelings."

"Shut it, Titus. I'm… I'm trying!" Sicarius hissed, giving the other marine a half-hearted glower.

You slide off the bed and onto your feet, walking up to both Astartes. Even up on your tiptoes and stretching your arms up as high as they can go, you can barely touch their faces with your fingertips. You care and love Titus very much… But you also can't deny the part of you that is very much attracted to Captain Sicari… No. To Cato, as well. You'd thought that he hated you, which made dealing with your assumed one-sided crush a little bit easier. "I care for you both, very much. I am also very much aware of the fact that directly after an attempt on my life, that doing something potentially… Rash is a bad idea. I also have negotiations to attend to in the morning. We'll need to talk more about what… What each of us might want, now that everyone's feelings are out in the open. For now, all I ask of you both is if you'd like to rest with me. Tonight has been tumultuous at best, and I know I wouldn't be able to sleep at all if I'm by myself."

"One of us needs to stand guard, at least. It's standard protocol, after an assassination attempt." Cato rumbled, shaking his head a little.

"Space marines also require far less sleep than baseline humans do." Titus added, letting go of Cato and kneeling down to be closer to your level. "Would you be content if one of us holds you while you sleep, and the other guards your door? And when it is time for the other to take his rest, we'll switch off? If you're willing to hold her close, Cato."

"That would be acceptable to me." You agree with a warm and gentle smile, glancing over at the second captain, waiting for his response.

"That… That would be acceptable to me." Cato agreed, nodding jerkily.

"Cato should hold you first. He's the one who saw actual combat tonight." Titus hummed "Besides, it's going to take me time to get out of my armor, and Cato's in civies already."

You nod, and watch Cato turn an interesting shade of red. "Sounds good to me! I have a couple of things that should more or less fit both of you, if you don't wanna sleep in what you're wearing now." You'd gotten a couple of pairs of astartes sized sleeping shirts for Titus, after you and he had steadily been close with one another. Sicarius was blushing again as he nodded, not looking at you. It was endearing how flustered he is. You pull out the two large shirts, offering them out for Cato to choose between.

Cato looks at both of the silk shirts, taking the dark blue sleeping shirt with a gruff "Thank you." before heading off to your en-suite bathroom to change. You hum softly as you pull out a set of sleep wear of your own to wear, waiting for him to be done. You wanted to wash your face of the make up you were wearing, and cleaning wipes only did so much. Cato doesn't take long in the bathroom, and steps out, his well-muscled legs on display as he walked over to your bed, settling down on it as you head over to the bathroom.

You quickly finish your nightly ablutions and find that Titus is standing watch at the door. while Cato is still laying down on your bed. You walk over to bed and slide under the covers, curling into Cato's warm, firm chest, a tired yawn leaving you as you cuddle into him, as you mumble out a tired "Thank you."

"… Thank you, my lady." He murmurs back, pressing a kiss to your hair, his large hands pulling you in close, one hand lightly coming to rest on your hip, the other lightly touching the middle of your back as you quickly fall asleep in his arms.

[laurasimonsdaughter]

By the shore there once lived a fisherwoman and her wife. Together they had three children, each as beloved as the other. They were a sweet sight to behold. The eldest had hair the colour of chestnut, that flowed like waves. The middle one had hair the colour of mahogany, that fell down in ringlets. And the youngest had hair like ebony, that curled straight upwards.

All their days their mothers had kept careful watch over them, but one evening, when the fisherwoman had not yet returned from the open sea, her wife received an urgent message calling for her assistance. There was nothing to depend on if not the help of kind neighbours, so the woman called her children inside, drew all the curtains, and told them to stay within for as long as she was gone.

“For it will be a dark night, but a clear one,” she warned. “And you will surely end up elf-shot or pixie-led if you go out in the gloaming.”

All three of them promised faithfully not to set a foot out of doors and their mother quickly set off to be of help to her neighbour.

For a while the three children were content within, but the further the sun sank below the horizon, the more restless they became. At last the eldest could take it no longer.

“I shall only draw back one of the curtains,” he said, and all three of them crowded around the window to look.

Outside the sky had slowly turned to dark velvet and since no moon rose to light it, far before true darkness had come the shimmering pinpricks of stars appeared. The whole world seemed to glisten in soft grey and it was not long before the second of them grew twice as restless as before.

“I will only open the window,” they said, and all three of them leaned against the windowsill to breathe in the night air.

But never had the gentle wind smelled so sweet and it was not long before the youngest could no longer contain herself.

“I will only go and sit on the windowsill,” she said, but no sooner had she let her legs dangle over the side or her siblings came to join her. And once they were all there, staring up at the sky with the wind in their hair and the distant rush of the sea in their ears, it did not take long until they slid off the windowsill and jumped to the ground.

“We shall not go up to the cliffs,” they told each other. “Nor inland towards the moors. We shall only go to see the sea and then straight back again.”

After all, they would be back before their mother ever knew they were gone, and they would have done so without ever setting a foot out the door.

Gaily they ran down to the shore, where the stars hung lower above the waves than they had ever seen. White mist danced above the water, and the sea foam danced as if rising to meet it. Amidst all this splendour, they suddenly heard the soft sound of hooves and from across the starlit beach, a beautiful pony pranced towards them.

The children gasped and cried in delight. They had never seen any animal half as beautiful. Its coat was as dark as the dusk and its eyes were like shimmering pools. And it came towards them quite as if to befriend them.

“I want to ride it!” the middle child exclaimed in raptures and they eagerly rushed forward.

“No, I get to ride it!” the eldest insisted.

“No I want to!” the youngest cried.

“Then you ride behind me,” the middle one said boldly and they caught the pony, as gentle and willing as a steed could possibly be, by its long black manes.

“There will not be room for all of us on its back!” the eldest protested.

But as soon as his sibling had scrambled up the pony’s back, it was clear there was plenty of room for him left. And once he was seated astride behind them, even though it had not seemed like a large animal at all, there was precisely enough room for their little sister to join them.

So laughing and hooting they all climbed onto the pony’s back. “Giddy-up! Giddy-up!” they cried. “Ride on!”

But the pony did not trot down the beach from whence it came. It turned and tossed its manes and galloped straight for the sea.

The children screamed, but no matter how they struggled, they were incapable of dismounting. The animal’s slick coat suddenly stuck like tar and the louder they screamed, the faster it ran. There was no glee in the children now, but all the more in the creature, for kelpies delight in their cruel games. Neighing and whinnying it rushed towards the waves, but with only seven strides away from the foaming tide the youngest of the children cried:

“Your pocket knife! Take your pocket knife!”

And quick as a fox she grabbed her own little knife from her skirt pocket and cut through the cloth so that it ripped and tore and she was free. Her brother and sibling followed suit and one after the other they tumbled off the speeding creature’s back, with only the fabric of their clothes left behind as the kelpie plunged screaming into the waves.

The mist whirled and the sea broiled and then there was nothing left to be seen, but the children did not stand to look. They ran, breathless and wide-eyed, hearts pounding and feet flying, all the way back to their home.

There they found their mother, pale with worry. And so glad was she to see them all safe and sound that she did not even scold them for going out into such a dangerous night, nor for tearing all their pretty clothes.

For the rest of their lives, those three children watched the waves for a sign of the kelpie, but not a trace of it could be found. Not a hoof print in the sand, not a strand of midnight mane, not even a whisper on the cold sea breeze.

[cannedpickledpeaches]

Insert Your Name (3)

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to series masterlist!

Notes and TW: Jade and Reader are finally properly interacting! For the whole chapter, too. This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

The night breeze sweeps over your skin when you step outside Azul’s mansion. The moon illuminates the world tonight, and you can easily see Jade’s car pull up to the driveway. He parks it perfectly, just like everything else he does, and comes to the front door with a smile.

“Looks like everything went well.”

He walks up the steps leading to the door, stopping just one step below you. Even then, his tall figure ensures he’s slightly above eye level. He zeroes in on something on your cheek.

“Indeed,” he says, raising a hand. His bare thumb swipes gently over your cheekbone. “Excuse me. You had something on your face.”

His thumb leaves your face with a hint of something red. Barry Moore’s blood. You must’ve stood too close while Floyd was having his fun.

“Thanks,” you say dismissively.

“No need to thank me. Were you the one who personally took care of the interrogation?”

He’s talking about the physical coercion. The violence. You shake your head.

“Floyd’s doing it right now.”

He lowers his eyes, rubbing the smidge of blood between his thumb and forefinger. The thoughtful pace of the action makes you wonder if he is satisfied with something.

“That’s good to hear.”

“Floyd said the opposite. He said he wanted me to draw blood.”

“Rest assured that he is more than happy to do it instead.” He reaches out for your hand. His bare fingers handle yours like they are made of porcelain. He studies them for the few seconds you allow before pulling your hand back. “You should never have to lift a finger. Just keep making others do your dirty work. There is no need for you to dirty your hands with the blood of filth.”

That implies there are things which are worthy for you to personally dirty your hands with. You choose not to think about it. Jade’s ambiguous wording is purposeful, a habit partially caused by his enjoyment of your tendency to overthink.

You look for a way to change the topic. “I see you’ve made sure to leave your gloves at her place.”

An important plot point that ensures they meet again. A trivial accessory that can easily be replaced, which (Y/N) washes and returns to him when she runs into him again. She will take great care in handwashing the white fabric, and she will keep it with her until she finds their owner. It’s an item created for the story. Because she is sweet, because she is kind, because she is the perfect person.

“Are you upset?” Jade’s eyes curve slightly in amusement. His fingers linger by your jaw. Not quite touching you, yet refusing to pull away. “You are stating an observation which does not need to be said. It feels as though you are searching for something to say.”

“No.” You push his hand away, your bare skin touching briefly. The body temperature of merfolk is naturally lower than humans, and on this warm summer night, he stays as cool as ever against your warm palm. “Maybe you’re just not that good at talking.”

He chuckles, a low timbre that slides through the air like silk. “I will work to meet your expectations, then.”

“The conversation better not be this stilted when you’re talking to (Y/N).”

“I assure you it is not.”

“Of course.” You turn to the door, its frosted windows casting a warm glow over your face from the lights inside. “She’s basically destined to be your partner, so there’s no way you wouldn’t get along.”

“We get along.”

“I know, that’s what I just said.”

“That is not what I meant.” His hand settles on the doorknob before yours. With his chest to your back and one arm reaching around your left side, you are suddenly reminded of how large he is. Towering over you, his body surrounds you on all sides except the front, an enveloping embrace where no parts of you touch. “I was referring to you and I. Ah, unless—” his voice suddenly drips with self-pity and his arm falls away “—I was the only one who felt that way about my dear friend?”

You stare at him. A few seconds pass, and you dissolve into quiet laughter. “Right, right. Feel more sorry for yourself, maybe you’ll start crying.”

“Would you like to see it?” Jade leans into your peripheral vision, a veiled grin tugging at his lips. “I can certainly try. It would come at a price.”

“I’m not that interested, then.” You push open the door. “Let’s go. Azul’s waiting for you to use your Signature Spell on the captive.”

“Ah, the captive.” He follows you into the house. In the sudden flood of light, he seems less intense, more interested in fading into obscurity to any onlookers. Azul’s home has a few trusted employees to keep it spotless. But no matter how trusted they are, Jade dislikes being perceived unless it amuses him. He manages to do it even while being six feet tall. “Where is he being held?”

“In a dingy room in the basement, tied to a chair with a single light overhead.”

Jade chuckles into his hand. “Azul has always had a flair for dramatics.”

“I think even the kidnapping was a bit clichéd. We should’ve just had you use your Signature Spell on him after you beat him up in the alley.”

“It wasn’t mentioned in the story. And I know how much you love to follow the story to the letter.” You don’t need to turn around to know that he has a smarmy smile on his face. “After all, you asked me to lead on your good friend just to stay true to it.”

He is prodding you to observe your reaction. To see if you will get angry, or pensive, or hesitant. You look straight ahead and start descending into the basement.

“My friendship with her or your parents’ life. It’s a pretty clear choice.”

���I am sure they will be happy to hear that once they awaken.”

A pause. The words hang on the tip of your tongue. They are hard to swallow, but also hard to spit out. The latter becomes easier when you don’t think about it.

“Who’s to say? You might end up falling for her eventually.” Every step you take down the stairs feels heavy. “So far, everything in the story has come true. So maybe you really will become madly in love with her.”

Jade’s silence seems to weigh down your steps more than whatever feelings are on your mind. You wonder what expression he has on his face, but you don’t want to turn around—whether it’s for your pride or for dread of seeing something you don’t want to see, you aren’t sure.

“Do you really believe that manuscript is a reflection of things that will certainly come to pass?”

He’s dodging the topic. You hate when he’s like this. He doesn’t want to give a straight answer, so he gives a tangentially related statement or question that can be interpreted to be one. Something that gives a vague answer, but can shield him with deniability when confronted. Even so, his question is not one that can easily be ignored, so it’s hard to stick to your original train of thought.

“I don’t know. It could be a prophecy of sorts. It could be someone from the future writing down what they know happened in the past. It could even be something like a magic pen that will turn anything written with it into reality. But powers like those are, well, powerful, and not easy to find. I don’t understand why it would be used on a silly, badly written love story like that.”

“Could it be that you’re jealous?”

You furrow your brows and spin around to give him a withering glare. His smile is the same as always, but you think it reminds you of when a cat toys with a mouse.

“Don’t smile like that. It’s unpleasant.”

“I’ll do my best to meet your expectations.” He won’t. You’ve already resigned yourself to that.

“Whatever. Besides, what part of anything I just said makes you think I’m jealous?”

“It isn’t what you just said.” Your shoes clack against the floor of the basement, followed by the quiet taps of his footsteps. “You have seemed rather . . . Restless since the story started.”

“There’s a lot to think about.”

“Am I one of those things?”

“You’re the male lead. You’re one of the major things I think about.”

“I see.”

You take a glance behind you again. His smile seems less predatory now, more pleased. Is he looking for attention? Right after you internally commented on his tendency of fading into the background, too.

The truth is not something like jealousy. Or maybe it is, but in a different way than what Jade is insinuating. Something feels missing now that you know you will not talk to (Y/N) again, at least until the story ends. The story takes place from her perspective, and since it never mentions Friend A after the inciting incident, you cannot appear before her for the duration of the plot. You cannot talk to her about the sweets you ate or the cafés you’ve found. You cannot sit in her apartment and talk about nothing in particular. It’s true that you will be very busy for the next while, but you still need to get used to the sudden absence of a good friend even while she is within reach.

You can deal with it, though. Over the years of working with the mafia, you have lost your fair share of friends. At least you know you can still talk to (Y/N) when she gets her happily ever after.

[dr-wormman]

Unnecessarily complex bordering on incomprehensible design for Mooring I cooked up for funsies. I've always wanted (and imagined) his look to be waaay more intricate than I usually draw it but I just don't because. Well. I dont want to draw all that. And also I fear the shadow curse effect takes up alot of space and adding more (like the tattoos) turns it into a mess. Anyways. I'm keeping the long tusks and the coin slot and rest assured even though I am never drawing them again he has tattoos. Just imagine them the next time he’s shirtless. Also keeping that nipple piercing I think it's cool

Ultimately I'm not concerned with making a Technically Good design because I'm just having fun and playing with my dolls but I want to make one that I both like and can recreate easily

[whumplump]

Hi! I love your writings so much

You might be a busy cookie at this moment, but I wanted to request nsfwhump where Whumper chokes Whumpee during an intimate session

But Whumper taking it seriously and nearly killed Whumpee in the process

That's all <333 I love you, mwah!

Hello, anon, thank you so much, both for the compliment and for the ask! I hope you enjoy this piece.

CW: nsfwhump, non con, choking, sadistic whumper, non con drugging

Heavy and thoroughly descriptive. Please, don't read it if you're sensitive.

Plastic Moorings

The first entry was always painful. Whumper didn't mind trying to make things more comfortable. In fact, inflicting pain was part of the game, part of the fun, part of the sadistic pleasure that Whumper got from watching Whumpee scream, cry and shake in pain, discomfort, shame. Above the physical pleasure of intimate contact between bodies, the sadistic psychological pleasure of dominating and overpowering.

Whumper repeated the movement. In and out, in and out. Once, twice, dozens, hundreds of times. They never seemed satisfied. They always took too long, and this, in addition to forcing Whumpee to be under the despair of being forced to do this all this time, also made them feel humiliated. Would they be of no use either for that or for satisfying someone with their body, which is why Whumper always took so long?

It didn't seem like the case, given the words. That evil voice, full of malice. Whumper lowered their voice and spoke between their grunts, the same wicked words.

“You're such a disgusting thing, you know that?”

“That's only what you're good for.”

“Aren't you glad I have any interest in such an ugly body you have here?”

“You're only good on the inside. I'm not talking about your heart, though…”

“Filthy slut.”

Whumpee tried to squirm against the restraints that held their wrists and feet, but even if they were properly conscious, they couldn't. The ropes were tied tightly.

"Ah, look at that." Whumper said, running a hand down Whumpee's bruised, naked body. "Do you want me to let you go, beautiful?”

They ran their hand up from Whumpee's waist, up to their chest, stopping over their collarbone. Whumper's fingers danced agonizingly slow over Whumpee's soft skin, scarred from bites and spanks. The mischievous fingers went up, calmly wrapping themselves around Whumpee's neck. The captive immediately tried to draw air for fear of being suffocated and unable to do so later. But even with the most vivid effort, the drugs that coursed through their veins kept them semi-conscious, unable to speak, except for painful grunts and, however repugnant it may be, moans.

Whumper watched the fear grow in the unfocused eyes of their abused captive, and clenched their fingers. Whumpee squirmed in anticipation of the next move. Whumper grunted and forced themselves harder into that warm body, forcibly given to them. Whumpee was too drugged to cry in pain. Whumper tightened their grip on Whumpee's neck as they murmured continuous vows of lust, punctuating each sentence with a thrust.

Whumper squeezed tighter and tighter, with all their might. Whumpee coughed, desperate, choking. It was no longer enough that they couldn't resist, but now they couldn't even breathe. The brain ordered the lungs to draw air frantically, but it was like shouting at a deaf person with their back turned, they would never hear. The agony was greater than the pain of Whumper's strength.

A few seconds, which seemed like an eternity. That desperate, helpless expression brought Whumper nothing but pleasure. Both their hands and hips showed more strength over the next few seconds. Whumpee could no longer make out the ceiling of the room, their vision was blurred like clear glass, and it kept getting dark. Their consciousness, held by a fragile rope, tearing with each passing second, until it breaks. Just like Whumper's rope, which broke all the way to the apex. They held Whumpee's waist with one hand and kept the other on the captive's neck.

May God take me soon, Whumpee thought. Why was it taking so long? It was agonizing, but the sadistic pleasure was also temporary. Already satisfied, Whumper released them. Whumpee coughed, choking, and it still took them a long time to get air properly. Whumper got off of them and got dressed. They no longer seemed as enchanted with that body as they had been before.

They stared at Whumpee stretched out on the bed, used up and out of breath, tied up. Perfect, but they weren't interested anymore now. They left with determined steps, leaving the captive to drown in their own shame and pain.

[mallorylambart]

my dol pc and sydney!

plus a relationship chart because why not

(none of these are concretely how i think they look, it's just a first draw....i can't even decide how i want to draw sydney's bangs orz)

i am constantly surprised at how much this game has my brain by the reins, but boy howdy, is it definitely my current hyperfixation

pc facts under the cut if you're interested in that

pc and robin have constantly been mistaken for siblings as long as they've known each other (she had the same hair color as him before starting to dye it)

pc has never met black wolf or eden

pc only knows great hawk as "this giant bird that chased me in the moor this one time"

when it comes to whitney, pc dislikes him but also agrees with sydney on the whole "you never know what people are going through" thing. she absolutely believes he hates her, though, due to the extent of his bullying; she doesn't figure out that he actually likes her until speaking to him after saving him at his dismissal event.

pc took the necklace. she did not have any clue what she was getting into, and now blood moons are the most stressful times for her. (generally, she tries to spend them in the meadow near alex's farm.) she feels a lot of remorse for taking it after encountering ivory wraith, so she assists them whenever there's pink mist at the compound.

pc and sydney did the rite of promise

pc is an initiate at the temple; initially she joined because she thought it would provide some relief from her current life situation, but over time she's grown leery of the temple and their hangups on purity while doing...whatever they're doing behind the scenes. she continues to work at the temple for the monthly allowance and for sydney, and doesn't trust jordan.

pc works with landry often, and considers them one of the only people she trusts outside of robin and sydney

pc only hates one person and their name is bailey

pc in winter school clothes with backpack bonus

[bansq]

the water......

Musings abt the cowfrogs below the cut

The new character is called James Aorta. He thinks he's hot shit, but his charm rarely works on people. Newt is just a bit easy. I don't think I would like them to be in an actual relationship though. Their ideal relationships just don't match I guess. Newt is a romantic, Aorta is not ready to settle down and may never get to that point.

In my earlier post I had a little concept thing with the world being like a forest, kind of?? But I don't think I like that anymore since I would miss out on cool rocks and shit. I think I'm just trying to take frog cowboys too seriously. Also not sure if I like replacing horses with lizards. Does it work or not? I don't want to draw horses. (Newt's green lizard would maybe be replaced with a leopard gecko and Scab would ride a rattlesnake. Actually yeah the rattlesnake is too cool to leave out so nvm fuck horses).

Scab was supposed to be a gruff scary big boi but in this he's more of a goof because it just suits better for the tone of the comic. So I guess this is further into his and Newt's relationship. They are enemies to friends. Scab isn't originally interested in friendships, but eventually is worn down and pretends to be reluctant about hanging out with Newt whenever they meet. He thinks the warm feeling in his chest must be allergies or something.

Newt blushes blue because he's a moor frog and apparently the males can turn blue when horny or something. I'm being very liberal abt biology etc because humanoid cowboy frogs are surprisingly NOT very realistic. My research on frog species is just thinking "oh wowie that frog looks nice" and then MAYBE reading the Wikipedia page and picking and choosing facts from there. So if you're super into frog biology, BEWARE.

That being said, Scab is based on a common toad (bufo bufo) and Aorta on a common frog (rana temporaria). If you're wondering about how species work in this world, I'm thinking that the species of the child is determined by the species of the mother. That might change though. Do not ask me how tf evolution worked here. I am constantly in danger of over-thinking this shit. They are frog.

I made a tag for this because I can't be bothered to link back every time, it's "cold-blooded".

[scotianostra]

On February 28th 1638, the Second Covenant was signed in Greyfriars Churchyard.

You will have seen many of my posts regarding battles that came after this date in what eventually led to "The Killing Times" in Battles between those loyal to King Charles II called Royalists and those who that believed in the Covenant, the Covenanters. The whole affair covers from about 1637 to 1688.

When Charles I took the throne of England and Scotland, one of the things he tried to do was make the Scottish kirk more like the English church. He instituted a new Book of Common Prayer without input from the National Assembly. This angered the Scots, and riots broke out against the imposition of what was seen as Charles's English-influenced changes.

You might have heard of Jenny Geddes, who is said to have been the one who started the riots with throwing a stool in St Giles on 23rd July 1637, as she hurled the stool she is reported to have yelled: "De'il gie you colic, the wame o' ye, fause thief; daur ye say Mass in my lug?" meaning "Devil cause you colic in your stomach, false thief: dare you say the Mass in my ear?"

Well all this led to this day in 1638 when a group of nobles met at Greyfriars Kirkyard in Edinburgh and signed an agreement that they called the National Covenant of Scotland. They affirmed their loyalty to the king, but asserted the legality of the kirk and its customs. It was essentially a statement of independence in religious matters and a protest against English influence in church matters.

The Covenant was circulated around the country and those who signed it were called Covenanters. The Covenanters called a National Assembly which gathered in November 1638. The National Assembly abolished the system of bishops imposed by James VI, rejected the Book of Common Prayer, and refused the rest of Charles I's plans for church reform. They also raised an army; which might seem odd considering they made clear their allegiance to the king.

The Covenaters army was under the leadership of Alexander Leslie. Charles promised to meet with the Covenanters if they disbanded their army. They did, but Charles did not keep his word. The Covenanters raised a new army led by James Graham, the Earl of Montrose, and marched into England. The king was forced to meet with them. This time, however, the Covenanters did not trust Charles, and they reached an agreement directly with Parliament, by which terms all of the National Assembly's terms were accepted.

Unfortunately, after these resounding successes, things went sour. The Covenanters quarrelled amongst themselves. some wanted to force the king to abdicate. Others were alarmed because people were being forced to sign the Covenant.

However, the power struggle in the Covenanters army was nothing compared to the struggle in English society; Parliament and King Charles were about to embark on a civil war, and both sides courted the Scots. The Scots saw their chance and demanded a Scottish-style church in England in exchange for their help. Parliament agreed with these terms, and signed the Solemn League and Covenant. The Covenanters army then joined the English Civil War on Parliament's side. The Scots played a leading role in the decisive Royalist victory at the Battle of Marston Moor.

However, though the Covenanters joined Parliament, their erstwhile leader, the Earl of Montrose, could not bring himself to turn against the king. He felt that the Covenanters had gone far beyond the terms of the original Covenant and he joined the Royalist side. With Charles's blessing he returned to Scotland to raise a Royalist army. This he did, drawing heavily on support from the Highland clans, and fighting a guerilla war with small, quick moving forces. His tactics proved a huge success and within a year he had taken almost all of Scotland for the king. He was on his way south to England when he met a Covenanters army under Leslie at Selkirk. The Covenanters won a massive victory, and Montrose was forced to flee.

Charles surrendered to a Covenanting army in England. The Scots were now unsuccessful on several fronts; Charles would not agree to sign the Solemn League and Covenant, and Parliament refused to pay the Scots expenses as promised. The Covenanters finally returned to Scotland, and gave Charles over to the English Parliament after they affirmed that no harm would come to the king. That promise, of course, was not kept, and Charles was eventually executed.

The Earl of Argyll took over control of Scotland. He declared war on England and proclaimed Charles II as king. Even with the support of a Scots army under Argyll, Charles did not trust the Scots. After all, he reasoned, they had handed over his father to Parliament. Charles did not trust the Earl of Montrose, nor did he feel he could sign the Solemn League and Covenant. The Earl of Montrose was betrayed by his enemies and executed in Edinburgh.

Charles II eventually agreed to sign the Covenant, though it seems only as a pretext so he could gain Scottish support in his bid to reclaim the English throne.

Now roles were reversed and the Covenanters in Scotland fought on behalf of a Stuart king. Oliver Cromwell led his Parliamentary army into Scotland and defeated Charles and Covenanters and Charles was forced to flee the country once again.

Finally, in 1660 Charles was restored to the English throne. Now he showed his true colours in regard to Scotland; he declared invalid all laws passed by the parliament since 1633. He replaced the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland with bishops on the English model, and they were placed under control of Parliament. Not unnaturally, Charles's measures were resented and caused more religious turmoil.

The ministers of the church either had to accept the terms or leave there Kirk's, most left rather than be forced out, this led to open air field "conventicles", The Royalists didn't take kindly to this and fines were dished out to those not attending the now near empty churches, the death penalty was imposed for preaching at these outdoor gatherings, torture was used on those captured to give the names of those organising the Coventicles. This went on until King James VII fled to France.

There are monuments scattered around Scotland to the martyrs who died during the killing time, most notably on the spot where many were executed on the Grassmarket in Edinburgh, The Wigtown Martyrs Monument at Stirling and Martyrs' Memorial, Barony North Church, Glasgow.

The pic shows The Signing of the National Covenant in Greyfriars Kirkyard, by the distinguished Scottish historical painter William Allan and a replica Covenanter flag in The National Museum of Scotland, which you can see in the painting.

[trashpidgeon48]

Assassins Goes Wrong

This is a Niche ass Crossover, but I started to think about what if Cornley did Assassins and here we are. Not entirely sure about all these castings so think of it as a rushed rough draft and give me your ideas on how Cornley Assassins should be cast.

Chris- Balladeer/Lee Harvey Oswald

Robert- John Wilkes Booth/The Proprietor

I think these two are the most obvious casts to me, like we got the ongoing rivalry and the two “leading actors” fighting for attention. Like it reflects their real life dynamic to a T and I think their scenes would be so fun to watch.

Max- Samuel Byck

Weird cast but hear me out. I think Max has it in him. Like to add to the goes wrong factor I think Max attempting to be gruff would be hilarious but I also think he could legitimately do the more emotional parts and draw in the audience. As well as god knows he would break during his monologues and that would be funny af.

Dennis- Giuseppe Zangara

Dennis as Zangara to me would be hilarious cause he would also be bad at foreign languages to me. That’s my only reasoning, I feel like it would fit and if we’re casting based on if it went right who would do a good job, I feel like Zangara would be the easiest role for Dennis to not fuck up? Though I know he would.

Jonathan- John Hinkley Jr.

Idk, something about the man who cheated being the lovestruck assassin would be funny to me and if he didn’t make it on for Unworthy of your love, then Vanessa would have to do it all by herself and that would be fun.

Sandra- Charles J. Guiteau

Sandra being the most showy of the Assassins would be fun. Like I feel like she could act and sing this obnoxious little man, though Max Guiteau could also be fun.

Annie- Sara Jane Moore

Annie would be perfect in this role. I feel like she has the comedic chops for Sara and could very much pull her off.

Vanessa- Lynette Fromme

I want more Vanessa + Annie scenes so that’s what we’ve got. I think in a goes wrong sense her trying to be crazy would create some good comedy. Though you could switch her and Sandra for Fromme.

Lucy- Leon Czolgosz

Kinda left field casting but that’s where I ended up. But I do think Lucy could pull him off if given the chance, though she would be tormented by Robert a lot for Comedy’s sake.

Overall, I’m still unsure about this casting but I love the idea of copious amounts of gun fuckups in Cornley Assassins. Like the amount of times gunshots needed is a lot and those would get so messed up. And god knows they would mess up the Sondheim music. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[yeyinde]

Imagine this but with Price on that hospital bed, and you just run to him like that

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMYdSkH9G/

UGH!!! the song choice too??? like please 😭

Imagine if they don't let you see him because, um. You're not family. And you find out that he doesn't have an emergency contact. Never wanted one. Would rather die alone than burden anyone with the tremendous guilt of seeing him break in his weakest moments.

Laswell has to push you into the room after threatening the staff to open his damn door up, and when you see him, he's distant. He doesn't want you in the room right now. Doesn't want you to see him like this.

But the way you try and hold yourself together for him breaks him in a way he'd never wanted to feel. He's the ashlar of the team. The curtain wall. A castle is nothing with its strongest defences, and right now he can barely breathe without feeling as though he's suffocating under the weight of his own ribcage collapsing on lungs.

He tastes ichor in his throat when you reach out, ginger fingers brushing back the matted hair over his forehead, plucking out the blood, grit, and viscera on his beard. You're trying to clean him up because despite the moor he keeps between you, you know. You know him unlike anyone else in his life, and you know how much he hates this. How much your presence in his weakest moment is smothering him. But he also knows that you're not leaving his side. That they'll have to pry you from his bedside, kicking and screaming, before you ever leave him unarmed and defenceless on your own volition.

And then slowly, when your hand curls over his raw cheek, buried under layer of soot and pieces of pulverised metal, wry curls matted with his blood, sweat, he reaches for you. His palm usually scorches your skin, but right now, he's never felt colder. He cups your hand in his, holding it against his face, and gazes at you.

You want to say something. He can see your jaw churn with the words that refuse to unglue themselves from your smog-filled throat. Too many trampling over the other, and none potent enough, strong enough, to break through.

So, he slips his fingers through the spasming brackets of your own, and holds you steady.

"I'll be alrigh', love."

And when you do speak, it's a torrent. Artillery fire. He tastes napalm in the air. "Yeah, you will."

It's equal parts a plea, a bargain, and a threat.

He huffs, and pretends the ruck of his shattered ribs doesn't burn like a wildfire in his nerves.

You notice, anyway.

"John..."

"Come on," he shifts over, bones grinding against each other, loose and rattling inside his battered innards. "Lay down with me."

It's clumsy and awkward, and borders on agony, but having you tucked against his side, keeping him together, holding the galvanised pieces of him in your trembling clutch, is worth every lash of fire that ripples over his being, raw and scorched. You hold him, cauterising the wounds with just the tremulous breaths you take, the hitch you try to hide, buried in his clavicle. John's arms are heavy on you, but you bear the brunt of his weight, and he knows that if you could, you'd siphon the pain from his marrow until all he felt was whole.

"What can I do for you?"

"Jus' stay here, love. S'all I need."

"Yeah?"

Your lachrymose eyes are a battering ram to the last vestiges of his stalwart veneer. He breaks in your hold; crumpled muskeg in the palm of your hand.

He draws you closer despite the searing pain that richochets through him. Lips press to your temple, tasting the cold sweat that gathers against your hairline.

"Always."

[jeudibeudibea]

howdy pardners, allow me to nerd out bigtime for you all.

i finally (mostly) finished the designs of my clone trooper OCs. i present to you Dorn Squad, of the 107th Special Tactics Division!

these guys are based off of old lego clone characters i had growing up :) i started writing a fanfic some time in middle school but sadly permanently deleted it, never to be seen again, so all of their original names and identifications were gone, as well as the tales of their and their Jedi companions' adventures! as far as i remember, they spent most of the war hot on the trail of a mysterious lightsaber-wielding rogue agent, who wanted nothing to do with either the Republic or Separatists, but was considered a threat to the GAR's operations. or, rather, Palpatine's grand plan.

in order from left to right, top to bottom:

officers: Captain Decker (CT-4303), Lieutenant Cooper (CT-3366), Sergeant Moor (CT-7983)

NCOs: Corporal Spring (CT-4937), Corporal Drift (CT-8731)

Troopers: Private Tene (CT-2859), Private Bale (CT-1195), Private Coil (CT-6378), and a basic Teal Company grunt design.

i will follow this up with the additional designs and a lore post for these particular characters soon :)

here is the colour palette so far (minus the greys and blacks):

i know the blue is pretty similar to Howzer's troops from The Bad Batch, and i tried to make it a bit distinct from that. Howzer's blue is a bit more saturated and slightly less green, from what i can tell. overall, though, i like the slightly desaturated accent colours! i think they turned out well and still work great together.

i didn't have much of a reason behind the first designs, which is why some are far simpler than others. i didn't actually start out making these for specific clones, i just was drawing helmets lol, but i revisited them a few days ago and started assigning them to the squad, and changed the designs somewhat to fit their personalities :)

i always liked the endless possibilities of characterising clones through their armour designs ever since i noticed Echo and Fives (RIP my boy) each had little Z-6 rotary cannon drawings with "For Hevy" on their Phase I 501st armour, and Waxer (RIP) had a drawing of Numa on his helmet. the state of their armours kinda say a lot about them individually, and makes it all the more sad when they erase all of it come time of the Empire (and TRAGIC when they regain control of their own minds and start to question Order 66).

idk, i like them so far! i have to actually do another squad from the 107th, Ash Squad of Grek Company (these guys are green lol i like to mismatch my legion colours). and then i will complete the profiles of the helmets, and start working on the armour designs as well!!!

[lunchtimebedamned1997]

Harrow the Ninth real-time reading thoughts + GTN character concept doodles (pt. 1)

| Here | Part two |

Please no spoilers for chapters after #6! (or for book 3... obviously)

Someone on my Gideon concept art post (I've since checked, it was @samgemrus) said they'd like to hear more of my thoughts as I read HTN, so I thought I'd indulge, since I do love a good yap XD

Let's start with the book one stuff! Art! Wanted to draw Palemedes and Camilla next bc they're my babies I adore them!!! (Speedpaint under the cut!)

I don't know why I imagine some characters the way I do but here we are, Cam with the wrong hair and Sextus with what is probably (?) too pretty of a face. I tend to imagine characters I like the personality of to be more personally aesthetically pleasing lmao I do not remember if this man's attractiveness was described or not the main character is so gay and i'm bi so idk... I guess everyone gets to be pretty XD

(Also you might peep the note in the upper left, I'll put the spoilers I got while finishing up the art at the very bottom of the post so that you can avoid them if you wish to!!)

Alright, that's book one housekeeping, let's move on to book two! thoughts and rambles and theories abound from the beginning-chapter six!

Okay! So! The second-person perspective! I still don't like it! But my discomfort with the format aids the story well, and it's been interesting to have dreams of Harrow's being written in third person along the lines of the previous book. I find that it gives off the sense that Harrow only feels moored (even by falsehoods) when she is removed from the truth of her current reality. By using the pronoun 'you' to guide the bulk of the story thus far, it leads the reader to be faced directly with Harrow's discomfort, confusion, and aching wrongness. We are the voice deep inside of her that is screaming for things to be righted and to make different choices as she fumbles along without hearing us at all.

Never would I have guessed in my journey though the GTN that Ianthe Tridentarius was going to be in any way largely important. Let alone that we'd have to spend so much time with that miserable woman.

I imagine that Harrow's false memories/delusions, that her 'forgetfulness' around and about Gideon, is for her own sanity; and perhaps is even an attempt to stop them from merging completely into Lyctor. Some play by Harrow as we once knew her, to try and save Gideon or herself - or them both.

God is weird.

God is... hm. I - he's unsettled me to be honest, but perhaps I'm just scarred by the Dumbledore-type. The ones that seem kindly and wise in their age and appearance of relative normalcy (/averageness). I can't help but feel as though he is somehow secretly very awful. The creation of his power - the way the galaxy died and these monsters were created... surely he must have been some kind of desperate as a mortal man. A man from our time. Wouldn't he be? A man who was... what? Grappling for power? To try and save anything he could? To save someone he loved? To stop someone... he loved? There is the locked tomb to consider. Since we discovered the process of becoming a Lyctor, I couldn't help but suspect, that with sword in hand, that perhaps this girl in the ice is not a lyctor but a Cavalier?

I'm not entirely sure of my reason for thinking that. Some sort of gut sense. 'God' seemed to know exactly what would happen to Harrow if he separated (or attempted to separate) Gideon and Harrow's now-entwined souls. Maybe he'd done it to himself? Maybe the reason he'd be unable to stop her if she reawakened would be because then they would be truly separate and broken? Like - perhaps he's still siphoning from her even now?

Maybe - maybe she's just a body. Maybe her soul is still entwined with his (if I'm even right that those two are connected in this way) and if you were to awaken the body... perhaps it would rend God apart in some unfixable way? Re-seperate the souls? Reverse whatever process granted him his power...

And why does he have more power than a Lyctor? Was he man to begin with at all? Or something else that gave up godhood and then returned to it? I'm excited and terrified to know.

We still no nothing of this other, more ancient Gideon. The one mentioned on the scrap of flimsy in GTN, the one Gideon's mother's body screamed out endlessly upon being called back from the dead.

For a while I thought Gideon must surely be our Gideon's fath- oh - ohhh my GOD is - is 'God' Gideon's father?! Is 'God' that ancient Gideon?! Because - oh fuck - because Gideon - our Gideon, she didn't die from the poison that brought fourth the power for Harrow's conception. Gideon didn't die when Harrow siphioned her for the trial with the box! Didn't someone expressly mention in book one that it seemed impossible that Gideon was alright - Camilla, wasn't it? That Gideon wasn't just alright, but that apart from being tired (and traumatized af lmao) she was completely healthy?!

God also chasitised Mercy for not wanting to share her name with her new sisters (also, I'm assuming 'sister is a religeous endearment like nuns or smth, but if not, marked that as - you know, no. either way mark that down as I'm uncomfy XD) and yet, we don't get to know his name. Most people wouldn't think to ask the name of 'God' would they. A man of a thousand epithets - but surely he has some 'true name' as he phrased it before, right?

Holy fucking fuck. Am I on the right track?! DON'T ANSWER THAT XD

I still don't know how (our) Gideon's mother would have made it to the here-and-now, or... unless she wasn't old? Unless she wasn't from then... Maybe she just worked closely with them on the ship? The ship... the ship he (god) feels sorrowful to leave as if it holds some kind of significant memory? Fuck there's so many loose ends, and I've probably tangled all the wrong threads but... holy fuck, that would be interesting wouldn't it?

Also Mercy is deeply annoying so far XD

Here's the Pam and Cam speedpaint to finish this very long red-string post up XD (Also don't ask how I'm drawing so many concepts this fast bc idk - it's probably the neurodivergencies and the fact that they're sketches lmao)

I wanted to give Cam scars, but I have a feeling girly is about to go through a LOT more bs and I wanna wait until I know more of what she's been through before I decide what scars to give her :3

THE SPOILERS (?) I GOT:

Apparently, Gideon's father's name is John (boring) and Cam gets murdered?! (SAD!!!!) I think I got other ones as well, but IDK if it's just small details I missed/forgot from book one or if some resurrection shenanigans are gonna happen with a couple people from the book one cast??? (Particularly Sextus??? Probably not tho lmao)

[angrelysimpping]

I wonder if you could write about a poly relationship between Kylar, Great Hawk and the pc ? I mean, Great Hawk would love his shy husband alongside his other spouse, Kylar would get to be pampered by two partners, and the pc would be away from the danger of the town but still be living with their loved ones. Everybody win !

Contents: Kylar (he/him); Great Hawk (he/him); Reader (you/your); bit of pregnancy talk and breeding kink; multiple partners

Words: 570

It’s rough going at first.

Kylar doesn’t want to share you, he doesn’t care if the weird birdman is being nice to him and he hates that Great Hawk calls you his spouse! Even if he also calls Kylar his husband, it doesn’t matter! Kylar is supposed to be your husband and only your husband! 

Is somewhat grateful that Great Hawk never forces him to mate. Will go into hysterics if you mate with Great Hawk, though. Even consensually. Especially if consensually. Honestly, will try to attack Great Hawk if he tries anything on you, even if you’re consenting. Kylar has to be on board before anything can truly happen. 

It really helps if you already have Great Hawk’s Stockholm Syndrome. At least then you can kind of act as a mediator between the two. Otherwise, it’ll probably take months for Kylar to warm up to Great Hawk, even after you develop Stockholm Syndrome. 

Kylar comes around so slowly, even he doesn’t fully realize that he no longer hates Great Hawk. 

But, once Kylar starts to soften up to the giant birdman, things start to go much smoother.

One thing is, he never wants you and Great Hawk to have sex without him. He has to be there. Honestly, it’s probably fine by Great Hawk, that just means he gets both of his spouses at once! Is a bit sad if he ever finds you and Kylar having sex without him, though he never states any kind of boundary about it like Kylar does. Kylar is never likely to have sex with Great Hawk without you, even after developing Stalholm Syndrom himself. Only on very rare occasions, such as if Great Hawk has a mating cycle and is clearly in pain from not mating and you won’t be back for a while. 

Great Hawk is pretty much open to anything. Sure, his species usually only have one mate for life but there are exceptions for everything. Now he has two mates for life, who are also mates for life with each other. This especially applies if he scooped you both up at the same time and you didn’t already have Stockholm Syndrome. 

He likes preening you both, but pays special attention to Kylar. The little guy is all dirty when Great Hawk first picks him up and then Kylar is too terrified to bathe for ages in the tower. Even after Kylar becomes more comfortable around Great Hawk and starts bathing in the tower, Great Hawk preens Kylar extra.

You’re getting spoiled, by the way.

Both of your husbands are ready to do anything you ask of them. 

Great Hawk likes bringing you trinkets from the moors. Kylar helps him figure out what would be good things to get and helps decorate you with the gifts Great Hawk brings. 

Great Hwak snatching a sketchbook and pencils for Kylar to draw with, the walls of the tower slowly getting papered with drawings of you, Kylar, and Great Hawk. 

If you can get pregnant, good luck, they both have breeding kinks. 

Kylar has to knock you up first. He has to. Soothes his mind like nothing else. 

Both of them make excellent dads to your offspring, though, regardless of who fathered whom.

Great Hawk is the best dad, and Kylar is doing his best. 

Kylar is so ecstatic and eager to be a father that it kinda makes up for any ineptitude. 

[bardic-tales]

11.27. 24: World-Building

Hello everyone. Today has been a very productive day, even if all I have done was focused on the economy of Blood & Stardust. I count these little world-building snippets as part of outlining my books (fan fiction). It's a big part of fleshing out a world as it sets social classes, and I'm very excited with the direction it is taking.

With that said, more details are under the cut.

Author’s Commentary:

Today, I spent a significant time refining the economic structure within Blood & Stardust. This process involved clarifying how power, privilege, and wealth function in the world, especially as it relates to characters like Sephiroth, Bianca, and, even brief characters that I have mentioned. I focused on drawing distinctions between the lower classes and the elites, examining how their conflicting desires shape their decisions. By exploring this tension, I wanted to give myself a deeper understanding of how wealth and status doesn't always equal contentment.

I also worked on further developing my personal headcanon for Sephiroth and his internal conflict regarding his 'privilege' position at Shinra as the Golden Boy of SOLDIER. This required shifting his perspective to seeing his comfort as chains that keep him tied to very corporation that he is loyal to but is coming to resent. This conflict adds a complexity to his character, allowing me to explore themes of power, corruption, and autonomy in a more nuance way when it comes to such an iconic character.

Finally, I spent time shaping the way Bianca navigates her place within the economy of Blood & Stardust. Her experiences with the CEO Mordecai and the SOLDIER Sephiroth illustrates her own struggle with luxury and instability.

Snippets from Today:

Lower Class: The Lower Class consists of individuals who live paycheck to paycheck or rely on low-wage jobs. While they may not experience the extreme poverty seen in the Least Resources group, they still struggle to afford a comfortable lifestyle and tend to be marginalized, with limited access to upward mobility. They have limited financial resources, often owning their homes or renting, but are unlikely to have significant savings or assets. Their finances usually only cover basic living expenses, leaving little room for luxuries. Housing is typically in older or less desirable neighborhoods, and food is basic, while clothing and personal items are of lower quality compared to higher classes. Though their standard of living may be adequate, it is far from luxurious. Individuals in the Lower Class face challenges such as job insecurity, limited career opportunities, and a lack of access to quality education or healthcare. They may also experience social stigma and discrimination. However, they benefit from strong community ties, with neighbors helping one another, and may have access to government assistance or social services, albeit often limited or inconsistent.

Sephiroth: Sephiroth’s economic background was shaped by Shinra’s investment in him as both a military asset and a propaganda tool. As the face of SOLDIER, he was provided with a luxurious lifestyle to project an image of strength and success that would attract recruits. This included a plush apartment, access to top-tier amenities, and other symbols of privilege. However, these resources were never truly his own; they were part of Shinra’s control and manipulation, tying him to the corporation’s agenda. Despite the outward comforts, Sephiroth grew to resent these amenities, seeing them as gilded chains that reinforced his role as a pawn in Shinra's grand design.

Bianca Moore: Bianca’s economic background was marked by constant instability and hardship. Forced into a life on the run after her family's tragedy, she and David moved frequently, struggling to survive and relying on odd jobs and limited resources. This unstable existence left Bianca with little formal education and a deep-seated drive to forge her own path, ultimately finding success as an author while carrying the emotional scars of her turbulent upbringing.

Bianca’s economic background took a significant turn for the better when she married Mordecai Delacroix, the CEO of Dark Light Publishing. With his wealth and resources, she experienced stability for the first time, living comfortably in a luxurious villa in Tuscany for six years. This period of prosperity marked a stark contrast to her nomadic past, though her journey eventually led her to the world of Final Fantasy VII, where new challenges awaited and those luxuries are ripped away from her.

Lower Middle Class Hojo’s Assistants / Other Scientists

Character Influence: Characters in this class are caught between aspirations of success and the harsh limitations imposed by their economic position. While they are educated and skilled, they are still largely controlled by more powerful figures. Their internal conflict often revolves around ambition versus loyalty, as they may aspire to rise above their station but are constrained by the corrupt systems they work within, like Shinra’s exploitation. Hojo’s assistants, for example, are often faced with ethical dilemmas, knowing the atrocities they are involved in, yet lacking the power or autonomy to escape.

Relationships: Relationships here tend to be transactional and hierarchical. These characters may try to form alliances or friendships based on mutual benefit, but there is always an undercurrent of control and subordination. Their interactions with higher-ups like Hojo or other Shinra officials may be marked by fear or ingratiation, while their relationships with those in the lower classes are often patronizing, seeing them as inferior but necessary to achieving their goals.

Plot Influence: While not directly at the forefront of the plot, this group plays a key role in advancing the story’s exploration of the corrupt corporate and scientific systems. The actions of Hojo’s assistants, for instance, contribute to the experimentation and atrocities that drive much of the plot, and their internal conflict can serve as a way to highlight the moral decay of Shinra’s operations.

Symbolism/Theme: The lower middle class represents the theme of compromise and the loss of autonomy. They are the "middle men" in a corrupt system, trapped between their ambitions and the moral costs of their work. They also embody the theme of exploitation, showing how even educated individuals are often constrained by economic and corporate power.